Vanquished (15 page)

My dad knows about the pills. What else does he know about? God?

My brain tells me the whole ‘God' thing is a joke. There is no God. How could there be? Does He just sit up in the sky and watch us here on earth, while we starve and fight for our lives? Why doesn't He do something? Why doesn't He stop the evil?

But my heart tells me it's true. It tells me everything Mr. Elders told me is true, and that I'm missing important information.

There have to be answers somewhere. There have to be, and I'm going to find them.

 

 

 

 

26

 

Once I'm back at the market I pause. Where should I go? Before I can change my mind, I head toward the hospital. I want to know if what Mr. Elders said about Mom's chemo is true. Has it been denied? I want to know why Fischer told this man and didn't tell me, and I want to know now.

I charge up the steps two at a time and push through the heavy metal door onto the third floor.

Dr. Lane smiles at me in the hallway, but I don't return the kindness. Instead, I head straight to Fischer, my heart doing double time. “Tell me about the chemo,” I say.

He frowns, glancing around. “What are you talking about?”

I glance around, too, and Dr. Lane has disappeared. We're alone in the hallway. “Mr. Elders said the chemo was denied. Is it true?”

He watches me for a full minute. Finally, he looks down. “Yes. It happened yesterday.”

“Before you saw me, or after?”

He doesn't look up. “Before.”

The breath goes out of me in a rush. I try and gulp in more, but nothing comes. Am I suffocating? Is this what it feels like to die?

Finally, I pull in a breath, but I suck in too much. I cough and sputter, and Fischer comes around his desk to pat my back. It's something Mom used to do when I was little. An odd comfort spreads over me.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I ask, tears filling my eyes.

He looks up at me with a sad, sorrowful face. “I just couldn't. I'm sorry.”

I shake my head, stepping away from him. “I don't understand why you would keep it from me. Were you ever planning on telling me?”

“Yes. It's all I've thought of since I saw it in her chart.” He stops talking again, glancing around like he's just realized he said way too much right out in the open. He steps closer to me. “Listen, we can talk more, later. For now, this isn't safe. But please believe me when I say I'm sorry. Very, very sorry.”

He looks sincere, but I'm still mad at him. “Fine.” I swipe at the tears on my cheeks. “But we are going to talk more, later. We are.”

“I swear.”

I think about going to Mom's room now, but Dad's with her. My eyes are wet with tears, and my heart hasn't slowed down. I don't want to be questioned about my day, or why I'm not at the market, so instead I head home.

My eyes dart around the street, constantly scanning for shadows and movement. I can't shake the feeling I'm being followed. It's irrational, I know, and I wonder if I'll ever feel normal again. Still, I can't help but feel relief when I step into my own house. I stare at the lock, willing myself not to turn it.

My fear wins out as I reach forward and twist it into place. It brings the strangest sense of comfort.

I tinker around the living room for a while, and then head upstairs to clean my bedroom. Everything Mr. Elders said runs through my mind. A God. More Greaters. No chemo.

My anger sparks again at the thought. What gives them the right to choose who lives and who dies? Why should they get to decide who should be Greater, Middle, or Lesser?

Jamie isn't violent or a drain on society. Is she? Is she putting a burden on society just by having a baby if she is going to continue working, as would Easton? What she did was wrong, I know, but I'm angry that she had to be sent away just because she wouldn't kill her own baby.

Every law we have races through my mind, and I question them all.

Why would God let this happen?

Then again, how did the people let this happen? Why didn't anyone fight against it? Is there more to the story?

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I jump when I hear someone banging on the front door.

“Hana? Are you in there?” Dad's voice drifts up to me.

I forgot about the locked door, and I hurry downstairs to let him in.

He stares at me, a frown on his face. “What's gotten into you?”

“Sorry. I just felt nervous about being alone.”

“Since when?” he asks, pushing past me and into the house. He empties his pockets on the counter and turns to me. “She looked good today, better than she has in a while.”

I can see the evidence of this on his face. In his eyes. Instead of a serious, sad face, it's light and happy.

His words lift my spirits, and I put away thoughts of Mr. Elders. For now, anyway.

 

 

 

 

27

 

Light shines in Mom's room as I push through the door the next afternoon. Her large window is open, and a warm breeze stirs the air. It's the first time I've seen her room lit up like this.

She's propped up in bed, nibbling on broccoli.

“Mom, you look great!” My dad was right. She hasn't looked so good in three weeks.

She beams at me and takes another bite. “I feel good today. In fact…”

“Would you like to take a walk with us?” Fischer asks. He pushes through the door to Mom's room, rolling a chair with him. It's the first time I've ever seen a wheelchair, even though I've heard of them.

My gaze darts back to Mom. “You're going out?”

My mom smiles and nods. “That's right, the actual out-of-doors. Dr. Lane approved it when I told her how good I feel today.”

My spirit feels as bright as the sunshine. This is progress. This is good. For the first time since her diagnosis, I allow myself to hope the nutritional diet will actually help Mom.

“Sure I'll come,” I say. I lay my stuff in the chair, and then follow them into the hallway. We head toward the stairs. “Wait, how will you get the wheelchair outside?”

Fischer smiles. “Secret passage.”

I frown, but when he pushes a button—the elevator button—my heart speeds up. “We're riding the elevator?”

“We keep them running for emergencies like a fire. Dr. Lane approved it, so we can ride down. Your mom had to promise not to use the electrical lights in her room for a week.”

“What? That sounds crazy.”

My mom smiles and shakes her head. “No, it's not. It will be worth every moment.”

We step inside the elevator and the doors slide shut. For a moment, I panic. What are we doing in the tiny box? What if we get stuck?

Fischer presses a button marked with a star, and the box jerks and starts moving. I count the dings, one, two. The box stops, and the doors open. The lobby sprawls out before me. I can't believe it.

Fischer wheels Mom out. “Aren't you coming?” he asks.

I snap my open mouth closed and step off. The doors slide shut behind me. I've done it. I've ridden an elevator. “That was great!”

My mom laughs, and we head outside.

The breeze feels like paradise, especially with Mom by my side. It lifts the hair from my neck, cooling me like ice on a steaming hot day.

“Look at those birds,” Mom says. She points to a bird bath. “Can you roll me over there and let me watch?”

“Sure,” Fischer says. “Do you like birds?”

My mom sighs. “I do now. I've learned to appreciate a lot of things since I've been cooped up for so long.”

I know exactly what she means. I can't believe the things I miss—dinners together, evenings with nothing to do, even getting yelled at by Mom. I will never take the simple things for granted again.

A bird lands in the bath and flaps its wings, spraying an arc of water through the air. My mom laughs. The sound is like wedding bells ringing out in joy.

I watch her at first, but I get the feeling someone is looking at me. It's not the same feeling I've had for the past few days, this actually feels like someone is looking at me right this moment. I glance around and see Fischer staring at me. He smiles comfortably, but doesn't look away.

I do. Heat creeps up my neck.

I want to ask him about the honey-haired man and about God. Obviously now is not the time.

“How's Keegan?”

My mom's voice breaks through my musings. “Hmm?”

“Keegan. How is he? I haven't heard you talking about him lately.”

Why is she asking this, and why right now? “I haven't really heard from him, actually. He's only written twice, but he sounds like he's having a good time and learning a lot.”

“Good, I'm so glad. How are his parents?”

I haven't gone more than a day or two in my life without stopping to see Keegan's mom, Margaret, but I haven't talked to her since Mom got sick.

“I—I really don't know. They haven't come to visit, and I haven't had time to see them either. I've been here in my free time.”

An understanding dawns in her eyes as she glances between Fischer and me. “Oh, of course. I hadn't thought of that.”

Does Mom disapprove of an errant glance between me and Fischer? I can't believe she would. Maybe she just wants to know what's going on. She
'
s
from the military training center, after all. She likes to be in control. Do I get that from her, too?

The sun warms my arms and I take a deep breath. This is the first time I've been outside just for the sake of being outside in weeks. My mom living in the hospital is so hard; I'd forgotten all the normal joys in life. Things like hanging out with friends, and taking walks for no reason. Worrying about what to make for supper, instead of making it home from the hospital before curfew. The thought that I have ever lived a normal life is foreign to me.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the park when you were little?” Mom asks.

“Of course. Dad made a kite once.” I can almost see the brown paper soaring in today's cloudless sky.

My mom smiles, staring into the past.

She's beautiful right here in this moment. Her cheeks are sunken, and her hair is limp and thin. She sits in a wheelchair, and her shoulders are slumped. It doesn't matter. Her eyes are alight, and she's beautiful.

All too soon, Fischer says, “I think we'd better head back in.”

My mom nods and sighs. “I'm more tired than I care to admit.”

I'm not ready for this wonderful outing to be over. We roll back to the elevator and step inside. Panic threatens me again, but it's definitely better the second time.

“I think I prefer the stairs,” I say.

Fischer's eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I love the elevators.”

“Do you ride them a lot?”

He chuckles. “No, this is only the third time. I still like them, though.”

We step onto the third floor and wheel Mom back to her room. I help her into bed while Fischer takes the wheelchair out. “I'm so glad I came when I did,” I say. “That was great.”

My mom nods and smiles. “It was. I'm glad you came, too.”

I move to sit down, but she puts her hand on my arm. “Hana, is everything OK with Keegan?” Her eyes have that worried look again.

“It's fine, Mom. You shouldn't be worried about him. I'm not.” I'm surprised to realize I mean it.

My mom drifts off to sleep, and I relax into my chair.

After a while, Fischer brings me a glass of water. Again, I want to know more about him. “What do you really do on your day off?” I ask.

He smiles, his teeth like a fluffy white cloud. “I usually study.”

I almost forget he's still in training. That makes me think of something else. “When do you go to class?”

“I don't have any classes, not exactly anyway. Most of my training is done in the hospital. This is my training.”

“Do you ever relax, or go see your family or friends?” It seems like a stupid question, since I know he's not from my city. I know he's made at least some friends here, though. How else did he learn about God?

He shrugs. “Not too often. There's just not idle time in most of my days.” He checks Mom's fluids and marks something on her chart before grinning at me. “Why? Did you have something in mind?”

I will my cheeks not to turn red. “No.” We couldn't get together and hang out if we wanted to. Single boys and girls don't hang out, and my “group” as it was is gone. I think of Ava, and wonder if she would like to do something with me.

He makes a few final checks and marks his clipboard. He's hanging around longer than usual. Finally, he speaks. “What did you think?”

At first, I'm confused, but then it hits me. He's talking about Mr. Elders. “I want to know more,” I say. And I do. I'm not entirely sure I agree with the concept of God, but I'm willing to learn more.

The door pushes open, and Dr. Bentford steps into the room. “Hello, Hana. How are you?”

I smile on the outside, but inside I'm screaming. I want to have this conversation. Now. “I'm fine, Dr. Bentford. How are you?”

He smiles and begins checking Mom. “Good, thanks. We're going to have a special doctor in tomorrow. Will you be around to meet him?”

A special doctor? My heart soars. After her good day, this has to be a good sign. “I can't, I have school, and afterwards I have to use up our food allowances by the end of the week.” Why didn't I buy food when I went to meet Mr. Elders? “What kind of specialist?” I ask.

“He sees patients around the country with the mutation. He develops personalized plans for them, to give them an optimal outcome. It's usually good to have family present to answer questions.”

My spirits deflate. Maybe I don't have to use up our food allowance.

But I know that would be stupid. If we run out of food next week, we won't get extra allowance. We'll have to starve until the next allowances are issued. Of course, we could always eat out of our garden.