The Haven: A Novel (16 page)

The desk was large. So big, it seemed to take up the width of the room. Pictures of the Whole, all smiling, lined one wall. Bookshelves lined another.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

Gideon shrugged, tried a few desk drawers, but came up empty-handed. “Maybe this is a consultation room,” he said. “Maybe people come here after they’ve seen us and talk about making their own Genetic Copies.”

There was nothing to say.

19

If Gideon and I were caught, what would happen?

Isolation for sure.

Anything more?

Would they use us up? Give our parts away to the highest bidder? I wouldn’t think of that. I’d just walk without sound, hoping we’d get what we needed so we could meet up with Abigail and Daniel.

Abigail.

For some reason I missed her.

We stepped into the hall that glowed with almost-not-there lighting. Gideon snapped off the flashlight.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked in case we want to crawl back out that window.” Gideon stood so close, I could smell the soap he used to wash with. “Can I still touch you, Shiloh?”

“Yes.” My voice came out a whisper, a sudden thrill running all over my body. “Yes, sure,” I said, louder. “I’m okay with that.”

Gideon took my hand in his and gave me a real smile—the first I had ever seen from him, then led me down the hall.

His hand was different from Abigail’s. Not as soft. Not as tiny.

I felt his skin under my fingertips.

“Look,” he said.

Up ahead was light, a thin strip. Like when I first saw the place I would meet Gideon and Abigail. How long ago had I thought I’d teach them a thing or two? Three days? Three weeks? It felt like years.

“Do they work all night, too?”

He turned to me, but didn’t lose my hand. “What do you remember about your operation?”

“What do you mean?”

Gideon crept forward, letting the blind flashlight lead the way. “Anything you can recall.”

I remembered. “There were people.”

“Doctors? Nurses?”

I nodded. Maybe. “Someone put the mask over my face.” The memory was foggy, not as clear as my dreams.

“Was the operation at night?”

I closed my eyes.

“The room was bright.”

The light ahead was unchanging.

“I’ve seen Dr. King enter the building on the north side,” Gideon said. His fingers laced with mine. “Maybe that’s where the operating rooms are.”

“This is where they operate on us?”

“Yes, Shiloh.”

“Who?”

“Who operates? Dr. King, mostly. He has a few assistants. Maybe there’s someone we know here.”

I cleared my throat. “Are you thinking of Elizabeth? Or Isaac?”

Gideon looked at me. “We don’t know what all goes on in this building. Or who’s here. For sure there’s the Infirmary. Like I said, they do operations here. Adam told me that. And anyone can look at the outside and see it’s huge. I just wanted to see for myself.”

“That’s dangerous,” I said.

“Sure,” Gideon said, “what we’re doing is deadly. But doing nothing kills us, too. Maybe when we get out of here we can use your memory, and you can tell everyone what’s going on in here. We know your family connections will help.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, I knew Gideon was right.

“I asked Dr. King about this building,” Gideon said. “Asked him what goes on here. He told me it’s just the Infirmary and a few offices. But then he made me take a triple dose of Tonic. That was a long time ago.”

“Why are we here?” I asked.

“Because he thinks we’re stupid.”

I didn’t answer.

Ahead were double doors. The kind that swing both ways.

Gideon stopped, his head lowered.

He didn’t move, just stood with his head bowed, my hand loose in his. “I miss Adam,” he said.

I understood it now, that missing someone. The ache of it. That loss.

He let out a sigh. “Let’s just hurry. We can’t stand around talking.” He pulled me closer and I bumped into him. The strip of light grew brighter as we neared.

Was Dr. King behind the door up ahead? Did he know we were in the building? Did he watch us?

“I can’t hear anything.” Gideon looked at me. In the dimness of that hall his eyes seemed warm. What if I put my arms around him? If I put my lips to his? Touched his cheek with a fingertip? I shouldn’t think any of this.

“Your eyes might be too blue,” I said. I took a step forward.

“Are they?” Gideon tugged me closer.

“Maybe.”

“The Whole think the eyes are the window to the soul.”

I touched my throat, and my fingertips were cold as bullets. “But we don’t…”

Gideon nodded. “I know.”

This time when I touched his palm the warmth there soothed me. Gideon’s hand wrapped around mine and it was like he pulled all the air from my body.

I had never been touched like this. I mean, yes. He had touched me. And I had yelled at him. And Abigail, too. But this was different. I’d never felt this way. Not ever that I could remember.

“Ready?”

He stood close now. So close that when I looked up at him, I knew I’d look right into his eyes. If he had a soul, would I see it? And what was it that Ms. Iverson had done? Stood on tiptoe to get closer to Mr. Tremmel.

“Ready.” My answer was a whisper.

Gideon pushed with his shoulder against the door, opening it until he could see into the room beyond. “It’s an empty hall,” he said.

All that worry for nothing?

I clasped his hand in both of mine, brought it to my mouth, warming my fingers some in his.

No wonder they never wanted us to touch. Terminals would fight to know this feeling.

We crept into the hall that was lit by a cord of light that ran near the baseboard. There was a reflection of creamy yellow in the polished floor. Both walls were lined with windowless doors. Beads of light, just drops really, hung from the ceiling.

“What is this?”

“Look and see,” my mouth said, and I wasn’t even sure where those words had come from. Was I curious? No! Curiosity killed the Terminal. I wanted to hurry and get out of here. I wasn’t interested in anything but climbing back in bed and pulling the covers over my head.

And in holding Gideon’s warm hand. In standing near him.

Gideon grabbed the first doorknob we came to. I walked so close, I was almost on his heels. I could have tripped over him. He pushed the door open.

The space was dark. Pitch-black.

“Hold on,” Gideon said, slipping into the room and pulling me behind him. “Don’t let the door shut or we may get locked in here.”

That wouldn’t do. “Okay,” I said. I stayed by the entrance.

The flashlight snapped on. Stainless-steel refrigerators ran along one wall. Cabinets and countertops were on the opposite side of the room. Was this a kitchen? Where was the stove?

Gideon did something with the doorknob, and allowed the door to close all the way.

“Wait!” I said, the word coming out in a panic.

“It’s okay. I made sure we could get out. Find a light switch. And let’s be quick about this.”

I ran a slow hand over the wall next to the entrance and found two switches. “Got it,” I said.

“Turn it on.”

“I … I don’t want to.”

“Shiloh.” Gideon sounded frustrated. “We have to hurry.”

“I know. But I’m scared.”

Gideon put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me closer. “Me, too,” he said, whispering. The words went into my hair. I heard him swallow. Saw him squeeze his eyes closed. “But we need this information for the outside world. And we need to get back to Abigail and Daniel.”

“Right.” Still I hesitated. Then I flipped on the light. I peeked out at the room. Only the countertops were illuminated.

The refrigerators gleamed in the semidarkness. Not one fingerprint. The fronts seemed to have been buffed. I followed Gideon, raised my hand, and opened the first appliance. A strong, almost sour smell rushed out with the cold air, turning my stomach.

I saw trays. Large and small trays. Covered with plastic wrap.

“Parts.” Gideon’s voice came from far away, somewhere near the ceiling.

I recognized the hands first.

Two in each small tray.

Colorless.

Were those noses? Skin? What was that? Three jars of eyes?

“Leftover pieces,” he said. “To be disposed of. Maybe. Or used in some kind of research.”

In slow motion, I turned. Gideon stood right there beside me.

How could he float? And then the words
leftover pieces.
I heard the opening and closing of doors.

“These
all
hold parts. Tissue. Joints and limbs. Organs. Maybe the Recipients to these parts are dead.” Gideon sounded shaky.

“Why do you say that?” My mouth was doing that moving-on-its-own thing. How had the words come from me? I could taste the smell from the fridge.

Gideon peered over my shoulder, then pulled me back so he could shut the door. The room fell into semidarkness again. His grip was too tight.

“I don’t know. But I would think you’d have to keep transplant tissue alive in some way. Not cold like this.”

I swallowed. His eyes were as blue as the painful sky had been today.

“Who is it? Who are they?” A swarm of bees tumbled in my chest. “Could this be Elizabeth? Or Isaac?”

“You can’t ask that,” Gideon said. “Let’s go.”

“Could it?” My heart battered at my ribs. I pulled the refrigerator door open. Was she in here? My roommate? I heaved and clasped my hand over my mouth.

“You can’t think that, Shiloh. We have to leave. Now.”

Nothing looked familiar in these parts. Nothing looked like Elizabeth. I pushed the door shut. Stepped to the next refrigerator, opened it.

“No,” I said. “No.”

There were several jugs labeled
COMPOST.
Gallon jugs. The kind I fed plants from.

Were these? Were these bits and pieces? Ground-up parts?

Gideon pushed the refrigerator shut. “We’re going.”

We flipped off the lights, opened the door leading to the hall, then went to the next room. Again, it was dark. Again Gideon ran the flashlight around the room.

Body parts.

Elizabeth.

Don’t think of her.

Isaac.

Ground into fertilizer.

In the next room, the walls were almost bare, but this time, in the middle, was a bed with rails on one side. There was equipment everywhere—a large light was centered over the bed, with a neck that allowed the bulb to move closer to or farther away from whatever might be lying there.

Pain hit me like a bat, like when I tried to clean the Tonic from my body. I dropped to one knee. “Ow ow ow.”

“What Shiloh?”

“The headache. It’s back.”

He cupped my face, but the pain was so bad, I could hardly feel his touch.

“Shiloh,” he said.

I couldn’t move.

“Look at me.”

“Can’t.”

“Pay attention to what I tell you.”

I tried to concentrate on Gideon. I felt the warmth of his palms on my cheeks. “It’s a memory,” he said. “It’s happened to me a couple times when I wind up in places I shouldn’t be. Knocked me on my back. Do you hear me? It’s only a memory.”

A memory.

Yes.

I scrunched my forehead. “I’ve been here,” I said. “I’ve been on that table.”

I’ve changed my mind.

She looks too much like my daughter.

For Victoria.

Gideon wrapped his arm around me, pulled me to my feet. He held me so close, I felt his body all down the side of my body. My head pounded.

I was exhausted from what I had seen. From what I remembered.

“There’s a basement exit,” Gideon said as we rushed to get back to everyone else. “I noticed it the other day.”

I could almost not see. I stumbled as he flicked out the light.

We prowled around, my eyes blurred more than normal in the dark, until we found an
EXIT
sign and stairs leading down a floor. The farther we moved from the room, from the memory, the less intense the headache became, until all the pain was gone.

“More rooms to explore here,” I said.

Gideon slowed. “Are you up to it?”

“I don’t want to ever come back here,” I said. “Let’s do it now. Get it over with.” Where was Elizabeth? Had my heart failed me?

They were recovery rooms. That’s what a posted sign said. One door stood open. Thin light fell out into the hall.

“We’ll check there,” Gideon said.

He caught my hand again. My skin felt almost hot from his touch. Too many thoughts ran through my head. Dr. King and Elizabeth. Mr. Tremmel and Ms. Iverson. Abigail pressing her lips to Daniel’s. And I would dream forever of those body parts.

“Hurry,” I said. The hairs on my arms stood up. Panic swirled through me.

In the dimness of the hall, I saw Gideon nod. We crept to the door. Peeked in.

I saw someone, an older male, lying on the bed, tubes and wires, monitors and machines hooked up to him.

Gideon took a step forward, dropping my hand. He motioned me back. My pulse quickened. Three steps into the room. Pause. Turn. Back away. Silence roared in my ears.

I could see the form on the bed clearly now. I staggered. An older Gideon.

My Gideon stepped back next to me. He moved so fast, I thought for sure my arm would be separated from my shoulder.

Down the hall. Down another set of stairs. Farther away. Farther.

“Wait,” I said. My lips tingled. “Slow down. Please.”

Ahead of us, the way out.

“Wait,” I said, “that was you.”

Gideon shook his head. “No,” he said. “It was Adam.” Tears streamed down his face.

“That was you.” I was panting. “An older you.”

But Gideon never stopped.

HAVEN

HOSPITAL&HALLS

Where You Matter

Established 2020

Note to all Staff

We are getting closer to the problem. Thanks to those who have stepped forward and helped in this investigation. You will be compensated.

Please be aware of unusual movement at night.