The Haven: A Novel (7 page)

Some of the Teachers watched her. There was a bad taste on the back of my tongue.

Abigail dropped into her chair.

“Where have you been?”

“I slept in,” she said.

I blinked at her lie. “That’s not true. You were gone before I even got up.”

Abigail wouldn’t look at me, and right then I knew.
She
had met with Gideon last night. Without another word, she trotted off before the breakfast line closed down. Miss Maria waved Abigail over, fingers motioning in the air.

Worry settled in my bones. He couldn’t get me, so Gideon got her. I wouldn’t be able to eat this bacon after all. And no seconds either, no matter how good it tasted.

“What have you done?” I asked as soon as Abigail sat back down.

She looked up from her plate. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” My voice came out more harsh than I meant.

Esther looked over at us. “Arguing? Terminals never argue.”

“No, we’re not,” I said. “We’re discussing.”

Abigail popped a strawberry in her mouth. She was so casual, she confused me. Did I imagine this? Maybe I didn’t remember as well as I thought. Maybe I hadn’t heard Gideon. Last night seemed distant. Almost part of my dream. I couldn’t quite tell the two events apart.

The dining room hummed with the low sound of voices. Ms. Iverson made a movement for Abigail to hurry. Mr. Tremmel carried his tray back to the kitchen, then left with a few males.

Esther and Martha headed off to class. The space near us cleared out, giving me the chance to speak.

“You were with him,” I said.

Abigail just chewed.

“Weren’t you? Last night.”

“With whom?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Abigail.” The room felt too warm.

“Let’s go, girls,” Ms. Iverson said. “We’ve got lots to do in class today.”

I pretended I didn’t hear our Teacher, though my body wanted to respond, to put away my tray, get ready to learn, do what I was supposed to do.

I swallowed the obedience.

“What are you thinking? You know the rules. And you know the consequences.”

Abigail shrugged. She lifted her chin a little. She wasn’t even ashamed. She didn’t even care that she’d broken the rules.

“I wasn’t with Gideon,” she said. She sighed. “Look, Shiloh, it’s okay. I promise.” She shifted closer in her chair. “I’m not the same as before.”

I couldn’t speak.

“I’m different. Changed.”

“Ill?” The word came out strangled.

“New.”

“I don’t want to hear this.” I put my hands on my ears, but Abigail had stopped talking and just ate.

“Abigail. Shiloh. Time to go.” Ms. Iverson motioned for us to follow.

Again I fought to not obey, but my body stood.

“You have to listen.” Abigail’s face went from her normal, calm appearance to one that made my legs feel weak. It was like she had never meant anything more than whatever she might say right now.

I tried to cover my ears again and gather my breakfast things, both at the same time. Only those who couldn’t leave the room without assistance remained.

Ms. Iverson called from the doorway, “Eat in a hurry, Abigail. You have to get your nourishment before studies begin.”

“Listen, Shiloh.” Abigail’s voice was urgent. “Trust Gideon.”

“What?” The glass toppled from my tray and fell to the floor, shattering. Cranberry juice spread like blood. I knelt to pick up the bigger shards of glass. “Why do you have so much faith in him?”

“He knows things, Shiloh,” Abigail said. “He has connections.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” I straightened. “There’s no saving us.”

Ms. Iverson came over. How had she gotten to my side so quick? “Go to class, Shiloh. The Staff will clean up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t even look back when I left the room.

*   *   *

Images of documentaries I’d seen in history played in my head. Jonestown, Waco, Heaven’s Gate. There was that whole city not too far from here. All those Terminals gone. Terminals annihilated because they broke free of the school, went into society, and were wiped out by the Whole who didn’t think Terminals should mix with the free states. And not a thing was done to protect the Terminals.

All of them, murdered.

But

we were safe here.

I closed my eyes.

There were awful things that could happen to us. Yes, what our Illnesses caused. But other stuff, too. Annihilation. I remembered the pictures of the bodies, some facedown, bloated, bleeding, limbs missing on many. Not one had survived. Even the youngest were dead. Flies crawling in their eyes and opened mouths.

Haven Hospital & Halls kept Terminals from being murdered.

I remembered the crowds, the picketing on the other side of the wall.

Did they want us gone, too? Want us dead? Annihilated?

It only made sense they did. Dr. King told us often that the world doesn’t understand Terminals, that we’re protected by Haven Hospital & Halls. That this place is what we call it, a haven from an angry, uneducated world.

I hurried, breaking another rule, leaving Abigail in the lunchroom, the broken glass on the floor, knowing that disobedience was far worse than anything Abigail or Gideon or Daniel could imagine.

*   *   *

“I waited for you.”

The voice came from the curtains. Too familiar, even with me only hearing it once before. Too dangerous.

“You didn’t show up.”

I stopped but didn’t look at the curtains.

“I’m not interested,” I said. “I don’t care what you have to say.” I clenched my hands so that I felt my nails in my palms. I hated this lie. Because I
was
interested. I
was.
And that caused the blood to rush through me, pounding in my ears.

“It’s for you, Shiloh. Abigail wants you to have the gift of knowing.” Gideon’s voice sounded like syrup tastes. “All you have to do is listen. All you have to do is see.” He hesitated and then said, “And I want it for you, too.
I
want
you
to be with us.”

“I
never
want to be with you.”

“I understand.” There was a longer pause before Gideon spoke again. “But ask yourself a few questions, Shiloh. Why do we all dream like we do? Why isn’t the outside world allowed in? Why aren’t we allowed out?”

“We’ll die if—”

“I know
their
answers.” Gideon’s attitude was the same as when he had thrown the chair. Hostile. “I want answers for
us.
For Terminals. For you.”

“We know why we’re here,” I said. My voice was insistent.

“You’re
programmed
to know that, Shiloh. Think past class. Think past what you’ve been taught.”

I swallowed. “I can’t.” I felt the fight in my muscles. I must follow. I must obey. I must not listen to anything that was against our belief system.

“Daniel told her you wouldn’t do it,” he said. “Abigail begged that we include you. She said there’s a part of you that wants to be free of here.”

Something moved in my chest, an unfamiliar part of the struggle. Join them because Daniel said I wouldn’t? I looked away from the curtains. Down the hall I could see the massive fireplace. The chairs where I sometimes went to read.

“He was right,” I said.

Walk on,
I thought.
Go.
But I stood still.

Abigail thought there was a part of me that wanted something different.

“If you change your mind,” Gideon said, “meet us at the entrance to the kitchen. Twelve thirty tonight. Don’t drink the Tonic and you’ll stay awake.”

I marched off down the hall, to my room, where I threw myself on my bed to think. The covers smelled clean. I knew I’d miss class and end up with another dose of Tonic and maybe one-on-one time with Principal Harrison. But I stayed in bed anyway.

*   *   *

That night, the Tonic sat on my bedside table like every night. This is part of Miss Maria’s duty. But I’d never thought of it. Just swallowed the bright red liquid, made with acai juice, to keep myself as healthy as possible. I didn’t ask questions.

Ever.

Thick liquid, sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. Never wondered what the Tonic was for. They told me. I believed. I felt irritated with myself. Food was important to me. Why not the Tonic?

It was habit.

If you had bad dreams, you got an extra bit of Tonic. Why? You needed your sleep.

If you were dizzy when another Terminal got near you, you had to make sure to down that extra drink. Why? To keep you from spreading germs.

Tonic was a directive.

Ask for more if you needed something to settle your stomach.

Terminals could transfer sickness—don’t get too close. The Tonic builds your immunities from being near someone, especially someone of the opposite gender. Stay away from the opposite gender.

I slipped out of my clothes and put on pajamas, crumpling the blue jeans I’d worn, then tossing the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Tomorrow morning, those clothes would be on top of my dresser for me to put away, or hanging in my closet. Who did that? And how did they keep my things separate from everyone else’s?

I’d never wondered.

But tonight was different.

I was different. (Like when Abigail said she was changed?)

My differences made me creep around at night. Lie awake later than the others. Made me remember what I wanted to forget.

Tonight I was different because of Gideon’s actions.
He
had tempted Abigail somehow. And that changed me.

Tonight, my roommates spoke in whispers. Brahms played. I yawned.

Why did I give Gideon so much control? Why was I even thinking of him?

“Drink your Tonic, Shiloh,” I said, looking into the cup.

The lights dimmed.

Sure, I thought Gideon’s speech had merit. I wanted Terminals to get better. Not lose parts. Not die. But Gideon was
breaking
rules. And if we wanted to get free, we had to
follow
the rules. And his words to me. That he
liked
to look at me. Something burned in my skin.

I swirled the Tonic.

This
was why Terminals should stay away from each other. Close association caused anxiety. I could see that. Feel it, too. Whenever I stood side by side with a Terminal, especially a male (which I never did unless it was necessary). When I looked at Gideon. Saw him across the room from me.

I tilted the Tonic toward my lips, tasted the sweetness.

“Good night, everyone,” Elizabeth said.

“Night,” Mary said.

“I hope you sleep better.” Abigail sat up in her bed, watching me.

Wait.

If Gideon was right, and Terminals had to do it themselves,
for
themselves,
should
they follow rules?

“You okay?” Abigail asked. I ignored her.

“I need to use the restroom,” I said, mumbling. Confused, I went into the hall and down to the lavatory. The little cup bent in my hand. The liquid jiggled with each step.

The light came on when I walked into the tiled room. I saw myself in the mirror. My eyes looked too big. My hair seemed too wild. There was red on my top lip.

“Drink it,” I whispered to my reflection.

I went in a stall. Sat down. Tossed the Tonic back. No! I jumped up, spun around, and spit the whole mouthful into the toilet, flushing the red away. I went to the sink and washed my mouth out, twice.

Blood rushed to my face.

“What have I done?” I said. I was crazy! Disobedient! Putting myself at risk!

“It’s just to see.” I rested my forehead against my image’s forehead.

Or … or (should I even think it?) this was to find a cure.

I let out a whimper. “Right.” My voice sounded like I stood in a soup can. “You’re finding a cure in the john.”

I washed my hands, then splashed cool water on my face.

“Are you okay, Shiloh?” Abigail slid from the darkened doorway into the light.

“What are you doing here?” Had she seen me? Did she know what I had done?

Abigail’s lips trembled. “Just checking on you,” she said. Her voice was quiet. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

The room smelled like soap. Who kept this place so clean?

“You do offend, Abigail. I don’t even recognize you,” I said, my mouth taking over. “You won’t let
me
make the decision. Let
me
have a choice. You do things without me, never telling me you’re going to.” I pushed past her, hearing the toilet flush again as I went down the hall. Once I was in our room, I crawled in bed, turning my back to her when Abigail got into her own bed and whispered over to me, “Sorry.”

HAVEN

HOSPITAL&HALLS

Where You Matter

Established 2020

Note to all Staff

Please Watch For:

Change in food consumption

Students being too sleepy or too alert

Sudden mood changes

Laughter

Uncommon sickness (i.e., headache, diarrhea, sweating, shakiness)

Any and all of these (and similar) behaviors MUST be reported to school officials immediately.

9

I couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was because the night music had stopped or because I flushed the evening Tonic or because I was nervous I would miss the twelve thirty rendezvous. After Brahms ended, the bedroom filled with the sounds of sleeping.

Those nighttime sighs, the late hour, and going to bed at 10:00
P.M.
made my eyes heavy. Maybe this one time I would sleep without wanting to, instead of lying awake.

The clock over the fireplace mantel called out the half hour. It had never seemed so loud. Now the tock seemed to boom. How did I not notice it? Or sleep through it? There was the rush of a spring wind blowing around the building, whistling in at what must be a small crack in the window. There was the settling of the beds when someone rolled over and the soft footsteps of Ms. Iverson, who checked rooms before she headed to her own room. Funny how I had never heard her walking on the wooden hall floors before tonight.