For Gabi it was like losing Gram all over again, watching her brother wave his Bible and thunder hallelujahs in his dark wool suit. She couldn’t bear it. Though she was in the front row of the innermost circle, the crowd was standing and swaying like aspens in a gale, and no one noticed Gabi leave. The double doors to the sanctuary had remained open so that those attending the memorial could filter in and out. One never knew how long these things might go on, especially when messages began to come through. With only her thin dress coat to shield her from the wind shearing across the plaza, Gabi pushed through the outer doors of the temple and struck out for the Care Center on the other side. For Gram, working at the Care Center had been the ultimate form of worship, and more than anything, Gabi needed to feel closer to her grandmother. The icy gusts were at her back, and she ran with her arms hugged around her as the wind propelled her forward. Why had she always been so afraid to run?
“Hi, Gabriela, is everything okay? Is the memorial service over already?” Officer Katz was on duty as always, reading a book behind the reception desk and taking cursory glances at the monitors on the wall. Gabi hadn’t really thought about how she might explain herself to the security guard. The urge to be closer to Gram had been such a biological necessity that she hadn’t questioned it or paused to consider that anyone else might.
“I started feeling sick. There are so many people in the temple. I think yesterday just caught up with me.”
“Of course,” Officer Katz cooed. “Your grandmother was a fine woman. I sure am going to miss her quirky sense of humor and that apple cake on Fridays.” Katz squinted at Gabi over her reading glasses. “Your color is a bit high. Do you want me to call up for a doctor?”
Gabi’s hand flew to her cheek. Her color had never been anywhere near “high,” but when she looked in the mirror that morning, her pallor did seem to have gone from skim milk to whole. She felt like she was slowly becoming real, like the story from her childhood about a rabbit who was loved so much that he came to life. Maybe sadness could do that too?
“No!” Gabi blurted as Officer Katz reached for the Call button. The guard’s rust-colored eyebrows crawled up toward her hairline. “I mean no thank you. I just needed to get away from everything, walk around a little, but it’s so cold outside. Do you think I could hang out here for a bit? Just until the service is over?”
Katz looked around the empty lobby and at the ice-lacquered plaza through the doors. The monitors showed quiet corridors, with a few Minders pushing patients in wheelchairs and an orderly dozing at the ninth-floor nurses’ station.
“Well, I suppose that would be fine. We’ve got some back-issue bulletins over there, and they’ve just finished the new mural in the cafeteria if you’d like to go have a peek. Stick to the main floor, though. It took quite a while to get things settled down after all the commotion yesterday. Long night for everybody around here.”
Gabi nodded and smiled her thanks before turning the corner toward the cafeteria. She had little interest in the mural, but there was another reason her feet had carried her to the Care Center.
The orderly was still asleep at the nurses’ station on the ninth floor when she got off the elevator, and though she could hear murmurs from the doctors’ lounge and a couple of the patient rooms, the hallway branching off toward D Wing was clear. The ninth floor was for those Returned just back from the coasts—a place where they could get stronger before graduating to the rehabilitation floor. Gram had always called what happened on Ninth “the sleeping cure.” Even the staff found its drowsy energy hard to resist. The lights were dimmer, the voices hushed, and no machines whirred or beeped from the rooms. Gabi was lulled by the nursery-like atmosphere as well, but this was no time for a nap.
She edged up to the sliding doors that led to D Wing, grateful she had thought to bring her father’s passcard along rather than returning it as she’d intended. Noticing the card reader to the right of the doors, she offered silent thanks to Gram for her foresight. Her grandmother must have known that Gabi’s powerful curiosity would overcome her fear. Gabi paused with the passcard poised at the top of the scanner. Her father had the highest clearance on the council, but she had no idea if that applied to the entire complex or only the temple. What if she swiped and an alarm went off or the swipe was tracked and recorded somewhere? Before her resolve could weaken, Gabi slid the passcard through, and the doors opened. She kept her eyes trained on the slumbering orderly as she stepped backward over the threshold into D Wing.
Immediately Gabi gagged on a lungful of fetid air. It wasn’t an odor exactly, but more like a distorted transparency laid over everything. It reminded her of stale urine and things unwashed, the musk of frightened animals and the copper burn of extreme pain. Head swimming, Gabi bent over and braced her hands on her knees until the floor stopped bucking beneath her. The corridor was silent and unlit except for the glowing Exit signs at either end, yet every micron of space was infused with terror. It only grew stronger as Gabi advanced, hugging the wall to her left as she inched forward. She checked each door until she found one with a sign
