Blood Day (15 page)

“What will happen to her?” said Sia.

“She will be taken to become a full time donor.”

“A Bleeder?” said Sia. “What has she done?”

“Nothing,” said Mathilde. “That’s the point. She cannot work. She must be worth something.”

Sia moved on, trying not to look at the woman’s face.

“The blood must be purified after it is taken,” Mathilde explained outside of a young girl's window. “Blood day, you see. We take the blood, and then we purify it so the Revenants can use it. Soon it will all be done here in one centralized plant. Isn't that grand? But I digress. This young lady was the subject of an experiment to purify the blood while it still flows through her veins. It was not successful. I apologize, I was not involved in this project, so I do not know the particulars. Perhaps some sort of chemical reaction?” As Mathilde looked into the window at the poor girl, Sia imagined that she considered her nothing more than a lab rat. Sia watched the girl, trying to move her hand to grasp a glass of water. The gray stone of her skin covered her legs, arms and neck. The pebbled skin made her unwieldy and she knocked the cup onto the floor. Sia saw her face crumple as she started to cry. Sia fought the urge to put her hand to the glass.

“Come along,” Mathilde said, moving down the hall. Sia followed, a cold weight in her belly. She didn't look through the windows until Mathilde stopped at one and looked in.

“Two people, one body,” she said, and Sia could hear the smile in her voice. Sia forced herself to look. Thankfully they were sleeping. Two men were connected, their heads on one wide set of shoulders, the scar down the middle of them barely healing. An IV drip ran into each man's one arm.

“You did this?” Sia said.

“Well, not me alone,” said Mathilde. “But the experiment was extremely successful. Twins, you know. Identical. They grew together like they were meant to be that way.”

“But why?” said Sia.

“Well, imagine the amount of blood they will produce,” said Mathilde. “And we wanted to see if we could. Besides, one of them was dying before the procedure. We saved his life by joining him with his brother.”

Sia nodded and tried to smile, but Mathilde was already on her way again. It seemed to Sia that the hall went on forever.
 

They went through a silver set of doors, dotted with rivets and containing a set of padlocks in addition to the main lock. Red letters proclaimed the area
Restricted.
Mathilde drew a second set of keys out of her skirt and opened the padlocks, hanging them on a hook to the right of the door as she opened them. She slid her key back over her head and turned it in the old, iron lock set under a brass doorknob.
 

Mathilde held open the door and motioned for Sia to enter. She took a tentative step inside, looking around. Everything seemed to be made of chrome. There were drains set into the floor and Sia saw a hose hanging coiled, like a thick white snake on the wall. The doors clicked closed behind Mathilde and she brushed past Sia and started down a hall on the other side of the room.

The layout was exactly the same as the surgical wing, with more security. Each door had a thick bolted lock, and the windows were reinforced with thick metal bars that gleamed under the bright lights.
 

Peering through the first barred window, Sia saw that the interior was also metal. The dim light was tinted red, as if for the nocturnal section of a zoo, so that the metal appeared to be the color of blood. She could make out a drain in the center of the room and a hunched shape on the bed. Sia half expected the form to be a large bat.

“What is this place?” Sia said. As the words left her mouth they were followed by a short scream as the hunched shape moved, so fast she barely saw it, and a nightmare face shrieked at her from behind the glass, dragging clawed fingers that were too long against the pane, leaving long, pale marks on the inside of the window. The shriek was soundless and Sia saw an intercom set into the side of the window. The Revenant's teeth were broken and jagged, still too big for his mouth as the sharp edges dug into his bottom lip, sending dark dripping blood down his chin. His head was misshapen on the side, and Sia could make out a ping pong ball sized dent on his temple. He had trailed off with the shrieking and seemed to be sobbing now, the racking moans taking all of his energy as he slid down the window and onto the floor, where he curled into a misshapen ball and cried.

“This is the Revenant wing,” Sia said.

“Yes,” said Mathilde.
 

“What did you do to him?”

“We tried to fix him,” said Mathilde, the cheerfulness gone from her voice. She sounded sad. “His name is Seamus. I knew him...before.”

“What's wrong with him?” said Sia.
 

“He went mad,” said Mathilde. “No one knows why. Perhaps tainted blood, but we do not know for sure. He is like a rabid dog and must be contained.”

“You tried to fix him,” said Sia, watching the hunched form on the floor convulsing.

“Yes,” said Mathilde. “We were obviously unsuccessful. Multiple exploratory brain surgeries only made him worse. We removed his frontal lobe, and that's when he started breaking his own teeth.”

“What's going to happen to him?” said Sia.

“Do you care?” said Mathilde. “After all, he is the enemy, is he not?”

“I suppose I don't,” said Sia. “Someone should put him out of his misery, though. Even a Rev shouldn't suffer this much.”

Mathilde snorted. “Come. We are running late.”

Sia froze at the next window. It looked like something from a horror movie. The Rev was female, and completely naked. She was strapped to a metal contraption, her arms outstretched as though she were being crucified. A vibrant scar ran down her face and up around the side of her hairless head, the ridges glowing in the blood-red light. The Rev's head lolled against her shoulder and she opened her eyes and looked at Sia. Drool glimmered down the front of her, a froth visible between her long teeth. She shuddered and her drooping breasts quivered.

“She volunteered for this,” said Mathilde. “She knew the risks.”

“Volunteered for what?” Sia said.

“To become human,” Mathilde said impatiently. “Now come, Sia.”

“You can do that?” Sia said. “Just turn them human?”

“Not yet,” Mathilde said. “Obviously we have work to do. We were not able to make her body accept the viable organ.”

“What organ?” Sia said. Mathilde sighed. “You promised to answer my questions,” Sia said.

“The brain,” Mathilde said, seeming resigned to being late. “We took out her brain and introduced a human brain. It did not take.”

“You just cut her brain out?”

“It was for science,” Mathilde said mildly.

“Why is she chained to the wall?”

“She is not chained,” Mathilde said, “simply restrained. When she lies on her back, she chokes on her own saliva.”

“You could sit her in a chair,” Sia said.

“We tried that,” Mathilde said. “She ate her own tongue.”

Sia stared at Mathilde, trying to figure out if she was lying or telling a horrible joke. She looked at the Rev again. Her head lolled to the other shoulder, saliva shining in the red light. Sia was sure they had given her some sort of drug. Possibly to numb her pain.

“It is all for a reason, Sia,” said Mathilde. “If we do not try, how will we know how far we can go?”

Sia didn't ask any more questions. She stared at the floor and followed Mathilde down the bright hall. The woman finally stopped in front of her and gestured to a window.
 

“I don't want to look,” Sia said.

“It's nothing to be afraid of,
ma belle
,” said Mathilde, her voice soft and coaxing. “Does this look familiar?”

Sia raised her eyes to the window, bracing herself for a horrific sight. But it was only a tree. A very large tree in a very strange room. The room looked elongated, stretched at the top, as though they had knocked out the ceiling and then coated every surface except the window that Sia looked through with thick, rough metal. It didn't shine like the other rooms, but instead had a dark, dreary, industrial appearance. The light wasn't red like the other rooms either, but was very bright. Like a floodlight. Or a sunlamp.

The tree itself took up the whole room. The roots trailed around the surface of the metal floor like snakes, moving up the walls in corners and starting the climb to the ceiling. The tree no longer had petals on it, but the trunk, a thick, twisted, pained-looking thing, bled a thick black sap that covered the floor directly underneath the trunk.
 

“It looks like it's bleeding,” said Sia.

“It is,” said Mathilde, then she gave a small shrug. “At least, we think it is. It is in so much pain.”

“The tree?” said Sia.

“Do you remember where we found you, Sia?”

Sia thought. She remembered blood.
 

“A bit,” Sia said carefully. “Bits and pieces. The Movers shot me full of drugs.”

“But do you remember anything before that?” Mathilde was looking into Sia, she could feel it. She had lowered her voice, and Sia felt that intense feeling of encroachment. As though Mathilde was poking around inside her head. She didn't like it. Mentally, she shoved Mathilde out of her mind. In front of her, the woman physically gasped and took a step back.

“I'm sorry,” Sia said. “I didn't mean to do that.” But she was really quite pleased with herself. She wasn't sure how she had known how to push her out, but Mathilde inside her head felt dangerous.
 

“Never mind that,” Mathilde said testily. “Look at the tree. Do you know what it is?”

“It's a tree,” said Sia. “I think I saw a tree like this.”

“Yes,” said Mathilde.

“It was breathing,” Sia said, then shook her head. “That can't be right. It must have been the drugs. I was very far gone when they found me.”

“Look closely, Sia,” said Mathilde. “Can you see something in the trunk? A face? Some arms? Legs? Look harder.”

Sia squinted, then stepped back. It was there, she could see it. A flattened face, long arms, legs, torso, its body twisted, as though writhing in pain, tangled in the twisted trunk of the tree.

“It's a Revenant,” Sia said. “But how?”

“Joshua Flynn is how,” said Mathilde. “Bullets, knives, ropes, all are useless against Revenants unless you get very creative. Taking the heart or the head will work, but little else. Flynn is crafty, though. He uses the old ways against us just because we have accepted progress.”

“Us?” said Sia. “We?”

Mathilde laughed. “A slip of the tongue. I mean
them
of course. The Revenants no longer employ the old ways. These methods, primarily used to murder humans, were quickly abandoned. They are so wasteful. To kill a human for a single feeding. But Flynn will not let go. He is so obsessed with preserving the old ways that he is now killing all Revenants who have adopted this improved way of life.”

“Old ways,” said Sia. “You mean when they used to look human?”

“So very long ago,” said Mathilde. “They used to be very fast, so fast you could barely see them. They practiced mind control. Some could turn into animals, I have heard. But no more. They stopped developing these powers and let them go. They take their blood in injections or I.V.s rather than killing. They are more just when it comes to punishment than the humans ever were. No one is killed. Not since the Annex. And it's all because of Ambrose Conrad.”

“The president?” said Sia.

“The same. He swept the world with his ideas. He instilled laws to protect your...our kind. He brought the Revenants to the upper world and showed them how to live in the light. He is very nearly a god.”

“A god,” said Sia, looking at the tree and remembering how warm it had been. The taste of something familiar on her lips. There was something about that night that she couldn't quite reach, she couldn't bring to the surface. She looked at Mathilde. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Oh my dear,” said Mathilde. “Everything.”

“I know you think I know something,” said Sia. “But I can't even remember. I don't see how I can tell you.”

“It's not what you can tell,” said Mathilde. “It is what you can do. What would you do for freedom?”

“From this place?” said Sia.

“From everything. From everyone. What if you were untouchable, even to the Revenants? As a diplomat, you would have complete freedom. No law could touch you, no man, Revenant or beast could hold sway over you. What is that worth to you, Sia?”

“Sounds nice,” said Sia. “But how do I know you're telling the truth?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” said Mathilde.

Yes, constantly,
thought Sia, but she remained silent.
 

“Believe me,” Mathilde continued. “This is real. And you only have to do one thing.”

“Kill Joshua Flynn,” said Sia. “You've said that.”

“But I haven't showed you how,” said Mathilde. She walked down the hall and Sia followed. Big black numbers on the door read
16
. The shade in the window was down.

“What I am about to tell you must never leave your lips to anyone else,” Mathilde said. “Your freedom depends on it. The music depends on it, Sia.”

“Okay,” said Sia, a tremor of excitement running through her.
 

“You are special, Sia. It can only be you with Joshua, do you understand?”

“I'm...not sure.”

“You have some kind of connection with him. He follows you. He has even been seen outside this very hospital, watching you. You will not want to kill him, Sia. But you must. And there is only one way to do it. You must get close. You must play the part. And then you must strike.”

“I wouldn't know the first thing about killing someone.”

“Don't be coy, girl,” said Mathilde, her voice frigid. “You killed a man the night we picked you up. Your husband abused you and disappeared. I do not fault you for these things,
ma belle
. We both know you are no angel. But for this task, you are perfect.”

Sia looked at the woman, her eyes shining through the lace.
 

“What do you want me to do?” she said, not bothering to make her voice sweet. Not bothering to act afraid. She realized she wasn't afraid anymore. Every restored memory gave her another piece of herself, even the bad, bloody bits. And now she remembered her husband. He didn’t wander off as she told people, and he did not kill himself. She now remembered killing him on a summer's night. She remembered shooting him in the gut when he had put his hands on her for the last time, and leaving him there to bleed. And she remembered a shadow nearby, something or someone that wouldn't quite solidify in her mind.