The Haven: A Novel (8 page)

And then there were the voices of men, talking about cleaning.

A cleaning crew. I had a vague recollection of a group of individuals (were they Terminal or Whole? I didn’t know) who I sort of heard other late nights.

I blinked, eyes hot.

Keep awake.

Did this group do the laundry, too?

I flopped over and stared at the ceiling.

Sleep,
my mind told me.
You need your rest. Disobedience equals death.

I couldn’t believe I would run the risk of Isolation—and all for Abigail.

I was sure Gideon had beguiled her. Like Jim Jones had deceived the residents of Jonestown and convinced them to commit suicide. Or how the People had turned against the innocent during the Terminal Massacres.

Tonight I would break the rules and convince Abigail not to follow Gideon. I would convince them both.

The clock donging twelve times jarred me awake. I sat, sick to my stomach. I had slept and not meant to.

After throwing off the covers, I moved on tiptoe from my bed. To the dresser. Put on sweats. Sweatshirt. A rubber band to pull my hair back. Socks. No shoes.

I went to the window.

What was left of the snow glowed. But there was no one out there. I mean, Gideon wasn’t out there. The night was still.

Sneaking to the door, I peered down the hall. The clock said it was 12:10. 12:10! Still another twenty minutes to wait. No wonder Abigail was late for breakfast this morning. She’d been exhausted.

I walked back to my bed and sat down. Closed my eyes. Opened them. Hummed. Recited the Pledge three times. “We are one. All colors make up who we are. We are the same. The Terminal. We help the Whole. We benefit the World. We will make a difference.”

We will make a difference.

Like Gideon said.

I propped myself in the sitting position and leaned against the headboard. I would close my eyes to the count of three. It wouldn’t hurt.

Not even five minutes later Gideon spoke. “Shiloh. You’re late.”

I awoke. Gideon stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette.

“Are you meeting with me and Abigail or not? We’ve been waiting for you. Every second out in view puts us at risk.”

“I’m coming,” I said. I’d show him. Tell them both how I felt.

“Hurry,” Gideon said. He pressed his finger to his lips. Motioned with his head and said, “People are working. Ms. Iverson is up with the cleaning crew.” Then he was gone, slipping away like a ghost.

“Gideon.” I kept my voice soft. The sound caught in the walls, in the curtains, in other Terminals’ sleeping quarters. I hurried along faster than normal. My sweatshirt made me so hot, I wondered if I could bear it. I flapped the front, letting cool air up against my skin.

If you go outside, you’ll be cold,
I thought.
If you sneak to the gazebo.
Go to the wall. Peek over. The people with signs, eyes bloodred, flashed in my memory.

No, I
wouldn’t
sneak to the gazebo, wouldn’t climb the wall. I would follow the rules, except this once, and I would fix what was broken with Abigail and Gideon. I would convince them meetings like this were wrong. I would tell Abigail not to trust that Gideon could save any Terminal at all. Logic told me that was impossible. It should tell her the same thing.

He rounded the corner up ahead.

I ran after him. “Gideon,” I called. My voice echoed. Why was it so loud? “I want to talk to you.”

“Shhh,” he said. “Shhh, Shiloh. They’ll hear us.”

At last, I caught up with him. His back was to me. His hair looked green in the light of the
EXIT
sign. I grabbed his shoulder, pulled hard to turn him around, my stomach somersaulting. I would tell him how I felt about Abigail being with him at night. Before we got to her.

His whole arm and a chunk of his shoulder came off in my hand. Blood sprayed in the air, splashed on the floor. I felt it, warm, under my feet. Felt the blood run over my fingers, down my hand.

“Look what you did, Shiloh,” Gideon said. He shook his head at me, his eyes glowing. “How can I save the Terminals if I bleed out?”

His eyebrows disappeared. Then his mouth, nose, and eyes, and then his whole face was gone. There was nothing but a black hole where he had once been. His shoulder and arm were heavy in my hands. Warm. Wet. I dropped it to the floor. It hit the ground with a
thunk.

“No.”

The fingers reached for my ankle, then clawed at the floor, trying to get to me, but I stepped back.

“No!”

My own voice woke me, my eyes flying open.

It was another dream. A crazy, crazy dream. I clutched at the covers. Swallowed again and again. I should have taken the Tonic.

It took some time to not think of that arm coming loose. The way it had torn. The weight of it. I shivered. I could still see the hand reaching for me. Could feel the warmth of the blood on my feet.

I needed to go. Get this whole thing over with though the dream felt like a warning or an omen.

My head and stomach felt just like that, topsy-turvy, upside-down. I steadied myself by touching the bed. Then in slow motion I went to the door, so I could see the time.

Had I overslept?

It was 12:25.

Time to go.

If I had the courage.

*   *   *

I was sent to Isolation the morning after Abigail and I snuck to the kitchen.

I’d written a note on the whiteboard there, a poem about wanting more food and finding everything locked away.

Terminals need nourishment past sup

Give us something because we’re up.

Abigail and I’d given each other the nod of approval, then headed out and done more exploring and, later, gone to bed.

The next day, when our teacher, Mrs. Galloway (who’s been here forever and works with ten-year-olds), asked who had graffitied the whiteboard outside the kitchen, I didn’t even hesitate. I confessed. I
felt
the urge to tell the truth and so I did. I spent twenty-four hours in Isolation, going out only for sips of water and to use the restroom.

I never told on myself again. Even when the urge to expose incidents turned fierce, I kept my mouth shut. If I had to bite confessions off, chew them up, and swallow them, I kept my bad behaviors to myself.

There was plenty to tell: nightmares, sneaking out, and now this running to meet a male.

I wouldn’t confess saving Abigail and Gideon, either. There was no reason to make it hard on anyone.

But if it was necessary, I might disclose information on Gideon to save
him.
To stop him from ending up like Romeo, dead from staying in Isolation and having no water. Ever. It happened. We read that in books.

Isolation was its own nightmare: no bed to sleep on, no pillow or comforter, not even a place to use the restroom. Nothing to eat—
nothing!
—and little to drink. Then there was the steady whine of words that filled the mind and blocked out everything else, the stark walls and no one else at all.

If I had to, I would save Gideon from himself. Like Juliet tried to save Romeo and then died in the process.

I whispered the last line of
Romeo and Juliet,
“For never was a story of more woe/ Than this of Juliet and defiant Romeo,” and stepped into the hall. Ms. Iverson, I was sure, was long asleep. Still, I felt nervous. What if I found Gideon? What if his arm was gone? Or came off in my own hand?

My stomach tightened. Maybe if I counted.
Onetwothreefourfi—

No! I could talk my way out of the worry.

“None of those things will happen, Shiloh,” I said. “Please, please don’t let that happen.” I kept my voice quiet, but in the dark hall the words felt like they floated near the doorways, waiting for someone to follow behind and collect what I’d said.

Tonight, I was on my own and my dream did not help at all. In the shadowed corners, I saw that hole of a face. The curtains looked like Dr. King in his lab coat. A severed head swung near the ceiling. The fireplace seemed to yawn wide. I clutched my sweatshirt close and edged along the halls.

“What in the world are you doing, Shiloh?” I felt like a crazed Terminal. Tonight was nothing like exploring before. Tonight was dangerous.

I walked down the corridor to the open expanse of the great hall that connected all the wings of Haven Hospital & Halls.

And then I saw it.

Something real, not just my imagination. Ahead of me. I thought I might swallow my tongue.
Let this be another dream.
I squeezed my eyes shut. No arms. No shoulders. Why didn’t I take the nighttime Tonic? I could be safe in bed, sleeping. What had I been thinking?…

I opened my eyes. Pulled in air. Squeezed my hands together. There it was again! Farther away this time.

Unable to move I stopped. If I had wanted, I’m not sure I could have gone on.

What should I do? I couldn’t even answer my own question. What if I screamed? How would I explain what I was doing awake, fully dressed at this late hour if the Teacher on duty saw my offensive behavior? If I didn’t move at all, maybe whatever that was wouldn’t see me. I could go right back to bed. I
would
go back and—

The figure slunk away, moving with speed and with a low
shhhh
sound. The hair rose all over my body. A cold sweat broke out down my back and under my arms.

It turned the corner in the direction I was to go, then disappeared from my sight.

Move, Shiloh.
But I couldn’t. I was melted ice.

“Shiloh, are you coming?”

My voice came out a squeak. “Abigail? Please be real,” I said. “Please don’t let me break off your only arm.”

“Break off my arm? What are you talking about?”

And there she was. Stepping out of the darkness.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft as the night. I felt my eyes burn, I was that relieved.

My legs were no longer tied to the floor. I could move, though my kneecaps felt like they might pop off.

“Abigail,” I said. “Oh, Abigail. I’m so…” I couldn’t think of a word to describe it, the way I felt, the nerves that ran through me. “… jumpy.”

She came up close. “Come on. We’ve got work to do and I’ve got things to show you.” She gestured and I followed her, relief warming the coldest parts of my body.

All around us the school seemed alive. Flickering shadows. Sounds, as though the walls breathed. I wanted to run, but I knew I’d not get far. Abigail slunk
down the hall,
making no noise at all. She blended in with the darkness. Were those shapes Terminals moving from corner to corner like Abigail did?

“I want to go back to bed, Abigail,” I said. My mouth felt dry but words squeezed out. “This is bad. You know what will happen if our blood pressure goes up. We can be called out during lunch. Neither of us wants that.”

Abigail didn’t answer. Just kept walking. I had no choice but to follow—or go back to our room alone. Then, when would I tell her and Gideon to stop meeting? I might throw up right this second. Instead, I followed after Abigail, who seemed to know how to disappear into the night.

10

Abigail walked longer than forever. When I tried to talk to her, she shushed me. Down stairs, down more stairs, down we went. The hallways growing colder, then colder still, until far ahead I saw a thin strip of light, the color of warmth. Like a fire burning.

“We’re almost there,” Abigail said. Without warning, she came to a halt and I almost ran into her. My already upset stomach turned over and I had to think positive thoughts to keep what was left of dinner down.

“What is it?” I asked. What did she see? Someone coming to get us? The Thing?

Abigail faced me. “This is all going to sound unusual, Shiloh. What you hear tonight will make you feel as though you are deceitful.” I heard her swallow. “But I want you to
really
listen.”

I nodded even though I knew she couldn’t see me that well. I was here to save
her.
I could listen to what Gideon had to say.

“Okay.”

Abigail didn’t move. My unsettled guts twisted.

“This could mean our lives, Shiloh. Yours and mine and Gideon’s and…”

In the dark Abigail looked ghostlike, half there.

“… and the rest of the Terminals.”

An odd emotion bubbled up in my chest. “
He’s
said that, Abigail,” I said. I pulled courage from somewhere near my toes, where it had hidden, during the walk. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Abigail said, “Promise me you’ll listen. Promise me, Shiloh. With your head and heart. Promise to hear Gideon out.”

Her tone, her intensity, alarmed me.

“Okay,” I said. “I will.”

She gave a quick nod. “Let’s go.”

I followed her though my body, my head (maybe even my heart—as she said?) didn’t want to.

I heard the low mumble of voices.

Pain pounded behind my eyes.

“Ready?”

Nodding once, I followed her into a room so small, it wasn’t more than a closet.

“Took you long enough.” There was Daniel. I saw the tiny TV he stared at reflected in his glasses.

“You, too, Daniel?”

He sighed like he was tired of me already. “Yes, Shiloh. I’m here for the Cause. Just like you.”

Pictures flashed through my head. Waco burning, smoke pluming into the sky. Photos of Terminals’ parted-out bodies slumped in filth and squalor. Lines of families, dead. The Whole and Terminals alike had stood for causes.
With
causes. I shuddered.

“I passed you in the hallway,” Daniel said. “Followed you awhile, then slid by. Made sure you didn’t tell.”

“How were
you
going to stop me? Run over me?” It felt like ants crawled around in my stomach.

Abigail let out a sound I had never heard anyone but the Teachers make. Her voice lilted up almost too high, the sharp sound cackling from her.

I covered my ears. “Stop!”

“She’s laughing, Shiloh,” Gideon said. “It’s something you can’t do, because of the Tonic.”

“What are you talking about?”