The Haven: A Novel (12 page)

two …

three …

four …

What was wrong with me? I would lose us all if I didn’t speed up.

five …

six …

seven …

“Don’t worry,” Abigail said. Her face was pale. “Don’t worry.”

I couldn’t let her voice in my head. It must be the headache’s fault. Because I wasn’t taking the Tonic.

You should take it!

No! Count!

ten …

eleven …

twelve …

Just make it to fifty before they say the name. You don’t have to go to a hundred. Get to fifty.

“Whatever you do, Shiloh, whoever it is, don’t make a sound.”

Focusing on Abigail’s face was difficult, but I nodded at her words.

sixteen …

seventeen …

eighteen …

nineteen …

“We have reports back now for…”

Hopelessness crashed through me. I wouldn’t make the countdown. I wouldn’t even get as far as usual and maybe, because of me, someone I knew …

No one made a sound.

twenty …

“… for Elizabeth.”

I gasped. Elizabeth?

Our
Elizabeth?

She startled. Dropped her spoon, still holding tomato basil soup, and it pinged against the table, splashing on her shirt. Her face went red and I saw that her black hair had been pulled back in a perfect braid. There were tiny pink ribbons at the bottom and top of her hair.

“I don’t want to go,” Elizabeth said to me and Abigail. “I want to stay here. I don’t want to go.”

“Of course you do,” Principal Harrison said. How had he heard her? “There’s something wrong and we must take care of it. Ms. Iverson, please help Elizabeth get her prepared bag.”

Ms. Iverson hesitated, then nodded once. She pushed back her chair. “It’ll be okay,” Ms. Iverson said. “Elizabeth, finish your lunch. I’ll go get your things.”

Abigail didn’t look at me. The whole Dining Hall seemed to grow smaller, tighter.

“Don’t make eye contact with her.” The words floated over to me. Had Dr. King heard that
?
Abigail ate a bit of wilted spinach. Her hands shook.

A lie! A lie! Aliealiealiealiealie …
My mind didn’t want to stop. Pain thumped with the words. Aliealiealie.

Elizabeth turned to her food. She ate in slow motion. Now only two splotches of rose colored her cheekbones.

“Get back to lunch,” Dr. King said. “Eat up.” Then he looked at me as though he could see my missing parts.

I swallowed. Would I break eye contact if I drank my morning Tonic. Maybe I wouldn’t? I forced myself to eat. To not look back up. I devoured the lean lamb and the new lettuce (like some I had helped plant), along with the tiny grilled eggplant that was not even three inches long yet.

“Whatever you do, Shiloh…” Abigail spoke through the food in her mouth. She ate large bites. Her eyes were squinty. “—remember to be like everyone else. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Be like them.” She gestured with her chin at the rest of the Terminals.

They all ate. Some slower than others. Maybe Elizabeth’s being chosen had unsettled them. Or relieved them? But the rest of the lunchroom of Terminals ate with little talking. They were all intent on getting every last bit cleaned off their plates.

Like I had been.

“I don’t want to go,” Elizabeth said. Her plate was empty.

Ms. Iverson came up behind Elizabeth. I hadn’t seen her reenter the Dining Hall. “Ready, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth shook her head no, but she stood, back straight. Her braid went all the way to the pale blue belt at her hips.

I wanted to say good-bye, wanted to say anything, but I ate the eggplant that tasted almost too bitter to swallow.

14

The day went on forever. I was haunted by Dr. King’s stare, by Elizabeth’s straight back, by her not wanting to go. All day a lump the size of a fist sat in my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

And the pain. I couldn’t get away from it. No matter how I tried, it was there. In every part of my body, places I hadn’t even known I had before. All of it hurt.

That night, when it was time to get ready for bed, I walked in slow motion to the shower. Cupping the Tonic in both hands, I tried to keep the medicine steady and not spill it. Never had I wanted to drink the nighttime Tonic more.

Even though I’d showered this morning, I had to again. Sweat seemed to pour off me. My shirt was damp. I’d thrown up three times. Even the soles of my feet hurt.

In the shower, I knelt. My body
wanted
to give up. I was so compelled to drink that my hands trembled as cool water splashed around me.

“Do it,” I said. “Do it.” Water ran in my mouth as I whispered. My eyes felt swollen.

At last, I tipped the drink out of the cup and watched it swirl away, thinning to pink as it went.

The water pounded on my chest. My scalp was so sensitive, I didn’t think I could stand even a drop to hit my head.

“You’ll be better soon.” But I wasn’t sure. There were too many things I suffered from to just “get better.”

Like that, I felt the scream from my dreams tearing up from inside, from below my stomach. I bit my lip to stop the sound. I bit till a chunk of flesh came off and blood seeped into my mouth. I spit over and over, watching the red wash away like the Tonic had.

I kept seeing Elizabeth’s ribboned braid. Hearing her voice, that she didn’t want to go. Seeing her stand so tall.

The lump in my throat grew bigger.

I remembered them all, the Terminals who had left, one by one. Sometimes straight-backed like Isaac had gone. Others not wanting to leave, like Elizabeth.

All had been afraid.

I stayed on the tile until my knees ached. When I knew I couldn’t wait any longer, I got up. Gentle as I could, I washed my hair, almost not touching my head. The soapy water ran over my body, over my scar.

All of them being called out. James and Madeleine and Chloe. Bartholomew and Marte and then three males, all in a row—Seth, Jacob, and Peter. There was Damaris and Leah and me and Abigail. Mark, Edna, Lydia, Ruth, Miriam. Claudia. Isaac. Elizabeth.

Sometimes they came back.

Sometimes …

Worry coursed through me.

I wanted to run, escape, try to get away, even with this massive headache.

Their eyes. Their faces.

I had been terrified.

Don’t think of that.

Think obedience.

The voice was dimmer. Not so strong.

One step at a time. Just one at a time. I faced the water, let it hit my cheekbones. I could do this.

Rinse.

Get out of the shower.

Dry off.

No running.

Get dressed for bed.

Make it through the next day.

Abigail and Gideon and Daniel were right. We had to fight. Had to free those who couldn’t free themselves. We might be able to stop innocent Terminals from dying.

If I had the courage.

Even if I had this headache the rest of my life.

I turned the water to cold, hoping the water would beat the unsteadiness from my body, then tried to follow my own commands.

*   *   *

The room felt empty with Elizabeth gone.

I couldn’t swallow at all now.

When the lights went out, I crawled from my bed. The muscles in my neck were so tight, I couldn’t relax. No wonder everyone met at night. They couldn’t sleep. I went to the window and checked the gazebo. Overhead, the moon was so full, it looked like it might pop. The thought made my stomach turn over.

A warm wind had blown through that morning and all traces of snow had melted. Spring was here. And the promise? Hard to say anything about promise when I felt like this. And with Elizabeth gone.

“Just a few more hours, Shiloh,” Abigail said from her bed. “It’s a pretty quick detox from whatever they give us. Turns out they can’t operate while the drugs are in our system.”

“What are you talking about?”

Abigail came to where I stood. She had folded up the flannel of her pajama arm where part of her body was missing and pinned the cloth together. Who taught her to do that?

“When we donate,” she said, “if there are any traces of the Tonic in our systems, they can’t give the parts to the Recipient. You’ll be better by tomorrow afternoon. I promise. That’s about how long it took me.”

I groaned. Tomorrow afternoon? I looked out the window again. Nothing. No one. I went to bed at last, Elizabeth’s braid and those perfectly tied ribbons the last things I remembered.

*   *   *

In the morning, my eyes buzzed. They jittered in my skull.

The pain was so intense, I couldn’t open them all the way.

Mary moved around the room. Her bare feet on the carpet sounded amplified.

“What is it, Shiloh?” Mary asked, from where she brushed back her short hair.

I pressed my hands to my forehead, tried to relieve the searing pain. If I could sit up, I’d drink the Tonic. I would. I didn’t care what I had thought in the shower last night. This was awful. Horrible!

“Do you need meds?” Abigail asked. She sat on her made bed, legs crossed, book resting in her lap. Everything in the room was underwater blurry.

“No.” I’m not sure how I got the word out. “I’m okay.”

She was to my side before I could say anything else. I was so confused, I thought she had gone to the Dining Hall already. Her face seemed too large as she bent near. Was this a dream? Why did her face grow and shrink like that?

“It’s almost over,” she said. And then, she sneaked the Tonic away from my bedside table. If I’d had the energy, I would have fought her for it. “Remember you want to choose.”

“I can’t do this,” I said.

“I’ll tell Ms. Iverson if you want me to, Shiloh,” Mary said. She stood next to Elizabeth’s bed, her hand on the pillow. Then, “I miss Elizabeth.”

A jolt ran through me.

“I better”—Mary hesitated—“I better go get some extra Tonic.”

Abigail seemed far away and then too close.

“We’ve got to get you dressed,” she said. Her hand was cool on my face. “You have the fever. You’ll be better soon. I promise.”

One-handed, Abigail helped me faster than I could have dressed myself.

“If you’ve taken more Tonic, it’ll take longer to get it out of your system.”

“I haven’t.” I gagged with the words.

The hardest part was doing my hair. It was so curly, so long and thick, Abigail couldn’t pull the brush through with one hand. And my scalp. It felt like my scalp was being ripped away. Like it bled.

“Have I ever told you I love your hair, Shiloh?” Abigail asked.

“No.” Bile rose to the back of my throat.

“I have this stick-straight hair. And yours is so full and big.” The brush tugged at my tangles. “After I came off the Tonic, I saw how pretty you are.” She spoke in tones that reminded me of chocolate. “Remember how you played Nurse in
Romeo and Juliet
?” I couldn’t nod. “
This
is the biggest role you’ll ever play. As sick as you are, as sick as you get, you have to act normal. Otherwise someone will find us out.”

I tried not to think of Elizabeth. Could we save her? Or would we be too late?

All the way down the hallway, slower Terminals around us, Abigail sent me words of encouragement.

“You can do it.”

“Just a little longer.”

“I swear breakfast will help.”

“
We
did it.”

“Think about getting out of here.”

“Think of Elizabeth.”

And always, always, “Act normal.”

But what was normal?—I could only remember the pounding in my brain.

The smell of vegan sausages made my mouth water and my stomach heave at the same time.

“Eat,” Abigail said.

“Fill your plate, Shiloh,” Ms. Iverson said. All around the dining room, the sounds of forks and knives clinking against china were so loud, it felt like a giant ate at my brain.

In the line, my appetite came back. I was starving. Ravenous. I filled my plate with rye waffles and fresh strawberries. When I poured milk from the glass pitcher, I had to use both hands.

At the table I sat across from Abigail, who raised her eyebrows at me.

“We’re meeting tonight,” she said. “Same time.” She ate like she wasn’t talking.

I nodded, almost not moving my neck, and pain shot down my back to my heels. The muscles around my spine contracted. This is how I felt after surgery. Cramps everywhere, burning in my skin, pain with every shallow breath. Fire. Ice.

So so sick. I’d forgotten that till right now.

“Okay.” Would my face explode on the table? The thought was a bit satisfying. A Replicant with no face. What good would I be to them then?

Was this what the Tonic suppressed? Were these emotions real? If only the pain would go away, maybe I could understand and act as a normal Terminal.

I waded through classes. Each step agonizing. Each breath like fingernails clawing at my lung. Could the other Terminals see me sweating? Or the Teachers? Or Ms. Iverson, who seemed to watch me side-eyed?

Then, just like that, not long after lunch as I walked to Study Hall, I was better.

One minute my head was about to blow up. The next, the pain was gone. I could see. I could hear. My heart wasn’t jumping out of my chest. My face still felt tender, and I couldn’t turn my head without my neck sending pain everywhere, but the headache, the nausea, the agony in every step were gone.

I could think. And I noticed what Abigail meant by wanting me to act the same as before.

All the Terminals were slow, hesitant. Their faces were tense. Their movements were deliberate. One step at a time. Teachers walked with confidence, heads held high. When they spoke, their mouths didn’t sound full of marbles.

But everyone else walked as a group, like geese flying in formation or a school of fish veering off in the same direction.

The difference between the Whole and Terminals was clear. The Tonic had kept shades over my eyes so I couldn’t see.