Memory Girl (38 page)

I bit my lip, thinking of Lila. “It's too risky for you to go into the lab.”

“Please, Jennza.”

“If you're caught you'll be executed or worse.” I point to his droll clothes. “Do you want to become a droll for realness? They cut into your brain and steal your memories so you can't even remember your name.”

He's quiet for a moment, plucking at the fabric of his stolen clothes. “I'll risk anything for my father,” he finally says.

I can't turn from his pleading gaze.

“It's not safe for you to go,” I say. “I'll get the medicine for you.”

No matter how much I argue, Nate insists on coming with me.

He moves stiffly through the corridor, his gaze as blank as a droll. When we pass a droll leaving the elevator, it's like I'm seeing double—until Nate slants a sly smile my way. We step into the elevator and rise up to the third level. I am firm that Nate must not enter the lab. I take him into a storage closet and won't leave until he hides inside.

“If you want your father to live, you must stay alive,” I say. “It's safer for me to get the pills. What do they look like?”

“They're orange and round, in a bottle with a snake symbol. Please … find them.” Nate's voice cracks. “My father is so weak. I—I can't lose him.”

I flash to a memory of Milly's small hands, clasped in her father's larger hands as he tucked her into bed, bending down to kiss her cheek, his lips cool and soft. “Sleep tight, Silly-Milly,” he whispered, making her feel safe. Loved.

“I'll find the pills,” I promise Nate, with the same determination that pushed me to climb a forbidden fence, explore a hidden cave, and lose my heart to Petal.

I cross my fingers for luck, an old custom of Milly's.

The door shuts behind me without a sound. The hall is eerily quiet too. Taking a deep breath, I go to the lab and punch the entry code on the outside panel. Lila has trusted
me with this code.

Where are pills stored
? I wonder as I peer around the desks—all empty. Even Martyn's desk, which is surprising because he's usually there. Where's Lila? She told me she planned to work in the lab after my party.

But after searching each room in the lab, I don't find Lila—or the snake medicine. I wonder at the lack of experiments and devices. I haven't even seen the operation room I was brought to my first night here. Only the room with the frozen life vials holds anything interesting. Desks, a cold box, and storage shelves don't fit my idea of a fully functioning lab, lacking the soul of experiments and discoveries. And none of the bottles in the storage room has a snake symbol.

Still, I keep searching. I'm opening drawers in a desk when I heard a soft swish of robes. Whirling around, I'm face-to-face with a man in purple and silver.

“What are you doing here?” Scientist Daniel demands in his deep yet oddly calm voice that shivers ice through me.

I slam the drawer shut, staring into accusing black eyes. “I—I … um … I'm looking for a … a medi Lila wants.” Gulping terror at the man who wanted to carve out my brains, I look over his shoulder to the door—my only means of escape.

“What medi does she seek?” he asks.

I think fast, recalling a few days ago when my head ached and Visla brought me a medi. “Caput Achey,” I answer. “But I couldn't find it.”

“How very unobservant of you,” he says with a sly smile. “Why are you backing away? You don't seriously think you have anything to fear from me.”

“Don't I?” I reach back for the desk, feeling for a sharp pen or anything that could become a weapon if he should
grab me.

“I have far more important things to deal with than a youth.” He smiles in a superior manner. “Besides, my sister has convinced me you'll be useful to her as an assistant.”

“Assistant?” I don't correct him.

“Lila and I may appear at cross purposes, but we're both scientists who care deeply about the betterment of ShareHaven. She can be vexing at times, but still, she is my sister, and I can't forget her kindness after my wife died. During that painful time, Lila and I put our professional differences aside, both grieving—until she claimed credit for discoveries that should have been mine. But that's her nature—always trying to prove she's superior to me.”

She is superior
, I think.

“I didn't trust her motives for wanting to bring a youth here,” he adds with a narrowed look at me. “When I found out you were being Returned, I offered to perform the surgery. Nothing personal, my dear,” he adds in a pleasant, almost friendly tone. “But Lila won out, and you're still here. Since then we've come to an agreement, and you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Um … thank you?” I say uncertainly.

He shakes his head at me, then walks to a shelf and reaches for a small bottle. “I believe this is what you're looking for,” he says, offering me the bottle.

I read the label: Caput Achey.

“Hurry back to Lila. I have research to do here and don't want to be interrupted.” He waves his hand, dismissing me.

Holding tight to the bottle, I waste no time scrambling past him to the door.

As I open the door, a thought startles me.
No, that can't
be true,
I tell myself. Yet the possibility spins his words like a cycle in my mind. Impossible. Lila wouldn't do that to me. I'm sick inside, wondering. I have to know ….

“Scientist Daniel,” I call out with forced calm as I turn back toward him.

“What now?” He glances up impatiently from a file.

“You mentioned your wife … and I just wondered …” I clasp my hands tightly around the bottle so they won't shake. “What was her name?”

“Angeleen Dupree Farrow.”

I toss the Caput Achey bottle at Nate as if it's on fire and will engulf me if I hold it for another second.

I'm not able to speak of this. I must talk to Lila first, to find out if it's true.

And I thought being married to Arthur was bad. This is far, far worse.

Nate grasps the bottle, hope shining in his blue eyes for a moment until he looks closely at the label. “But this isn't—”

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “They aren't the right pills. I looked and looked … but I couldn't find a bottle with a snake symbol.”

“You searched everywhere?”

“Yeah, although …” I pause, wondering why only Daniel was in the lab. Where were the other scientists?

“What is it?” Nate raises his brows.

“l'll show you.” I lead him back to the elevator and point to the control panel. “Do you notice anything odd about the numbers?”

He lifts his brows. “One to four. So?”

“There are only three floors. I thought it was an error, but what if there really is a fourth level? It would explain why I can't find Lila and how I've never met Scientist Kataya. I thought Scientist Daniel and Frost were avoiding me, but maybe the fourth level is the
real
lab?”

While I'm excited to realize this possibility, I'm hurt too, because it means Lila and Visla deceived me.

“Let's find out,” Nate says with eagerness.

My hand shakes as I push number four.

When the door slides open, I cringe, expecting to be met by angry scientists or hulking droll guards. No one is there, but I notice the familiar chemical smells of a lab. A door lies ahead, identical to the lab entry on the third floor. I warn Nate to stay back while I touch the panel, trying the third floor level code.

The door falls open—into a tunnel. Milly's thoughts flash fear through me “Maybe we should go ….”

“I'm not turning back,” Nate says firmly.

Swallowing fear, I force my feet to move forward, our footsteps echoing as we go deeper into the tunnel.

At first I think we're going to come out on the other side of the hill, and that this is another way in or out of the compound. But we're going up, not down. Abruptly, the tunnel stops at a door. Like the other door, an electronic panel flashes, awaiting the entry combination.

I hesitate, then tap the same number combination I used before.

The door slides open.

We enter a huge domed room where light streams onto a round table surrounded by a dozen chairs. A discussion room, I guess. Floor to ceiling cabinets line the walls. The
room is empty, but noises murmur from an adjacent room, whines of machines and low rumblings of conversations. I stare at the metal door leading into this room. My pulse races, and my hands clench at my sides. There's nothing special about this door, but I'm jerked back in memory to shackles dragging me forward and sharp cutting tools.

“What's wrong?” Nate whispers, coming up beside me.

“This is the
real
lab,” I whisper. Another voice fights to be heard in my thoughts.
Leave now!
Milly orders.

I back away from the door, fear ripping through me. But instead of turning around and running away, I walk past the lab into a hallway. Nate stays close to me, as if he's protecting me instead of the other way around.

I sniff as the air changes from a chemical smell to something dark, wild, and dank. My stomach churns. The smell intensifies as we near a solid metal door. I try not to breathe too deeply.

“Definitely not the smell of medicines.” Nate pinches his nose with his fingers. “It's familiar, but I'm not sure why.”

The door has no viewing window, and the stench hints of dead things, not bottled medicine. The hairs on my skin prickle. I hurry past this door to the room at the end of the hall. “Let's try the other room first,” I suggest.

Nate follows me to the last door. It has a small window, and peering inside, I see rows of metal shelves. I turn the handle, and the door creaks open. I stare excitedly at shelves crammed with boxes and bottles.

“Medicine!” Nate pushes past me, his expression so animated that no one could mistake him for a droll.

I read labels—cures for itching, aging, soreness, broken bones, sleeplessness, bleeding, and hiccups. Nate
systematically searches too, starting with a top row and working to the bottom. Bottles are organized by ailment, I quickly realize. Head ailments on a top shelf. Stomach pain preventatives on the next shelf. Animal stings, allergies, bites: bottom shelf. My gaze flies fast to a bottle with a snake on the label.

“Graces good!” I cry with triumph. “I found it!”

Nate grasps the bottle, rubbing his finger across the snake. “It's strange to think this small bottle can save my father. How can I thank you, Jennza?”

“Be careful, and don't get killed,” I tell him.

He grins, pocketing the bottle. I check the corridor, and it's empty, so we hurry out of the room. Nate moves quicker, and I remind him I'm supposed to be leading him. He spreads out his arm, inviting me to move ahead. But after I've taken a few steps, I look back. He's not following me. He's staring at the door to the room with the dead-thing odor.

“That smell is familiar.” He sniffs, then gasps. Disbelief and shock show on his face.

Before I can ask what he's remembered, he lunges forward and twists the knob. His mouth falls open, and he reels back in horror. I come up beside him, putting my hand on his arm, and lift my gaze.

I slap my hand over my mouth to bury my own gasp.

From floor to high ceiling, the shadowed room is stacked with dozens—hundreds!—of metal cages full of miniature beasts.

The nearest cage holds a scaled snake with circular rows of teeth and spikes rising across its twisty worm-like body. Above it is a claw so tiny its talons are smaller than my teeth—but sharp like needles. A fanged snake slithers
on the ceiling of his cage, whipping a barbed tail through the bars. Beside this cage, a wolf-like creature howls and grips leathery claws around the bars. These are creatures of nightmares, with wiry fur, barbed skin, and growls. The largest claw in a giantness cage hangs by its massive tail, hissing as its steel claws slash, its demon eyes fixed on us hungrily. The floor of the cage is littered in bones.

“What is this place?” I move closer to Nate, clutching his arm.

“Shhh!” Nate looks furtively in every direction. Grasping my hand, he pulls me farther away from the beasts.

I want to block my senses—the putrid smell; monstrous images sure to torment my nightmares; howling, growling, horrible sounds; the acidic taste of fear; and the foreboding sense of worse horrors to come. My only comfort is touch—Nate's gentle, callused hand on mine.

“They're not even grown beasts—they're youths. Why are they in cages?” I shout into Nate's ear so he'll hear over the chaotic din. “Did the scientists capture them for research or to be destroyed?”

“No.” Nate's face darkens. “This isn't about destroying. It's about creating. It's obvious what's going on here.”

“Not to me.”

“They weren't captured and brought here—they were born here.”