Tainted

CHAPTER TWENTY

  I look in the mirror and stare at the bags that have slowly built under my eyes. The lack of sleep and my loss of appetite are beginning to show. My face looks haggard and I touch at my hollow cheeks with concern.

  This week has gone too quickly. Time is going too quickly. It’s already Thursday and the seconds seem to be slipping by faster and faster as my testing on Monday nears.

  I glance down at the pile of books scattered chaotically across the end of my bed. Titles such as, ‘The Quantifiable Effects of the Lysart Asteroid on the Human Genome’ and ‘The ARC: Time of Change’ rest there. I checked them out of the library days ago hoping to find some answers, but they’ve given me no insight into the tainted. I still don’t know nearly enough and, more importantly, have no idea how to fake a blood test.

  It doesn’t help that Quinn keeps shooting nervous glances my way when she thinks I’m not looking. It’s obvious she’s getting anxious, but I can’t let it distract me. Even Gemma’s begun to notice something’s off with me and I’ve had to begin avoiding her at school.

  I look down at my cuff and groan. I’m running late for school again. It should probably worry me, or even just put an extra spring in my step. A few weeks ago it doubtlessly would have. But all I can feel is anxiety, and worry—and an all-encompassing desperation to figure out how to fake my blood test.

  It’s this desperation that pushes me to walk straight past the corridor that will take me to school. It makes me forget any concerns Quinn may have aired about my safety. Instead it drives me towards the closest thing I’ve had to a lead—towards the Aged Care Ward to see Dr. Wilson.

  ‘This is a nice surprise,’ he says, when I walk into his room. ‘I wasn’t expecting any visitors this morning.’ With slow, purposeful movements he folds the corner of the page in his open book. He lowers his glasses from his eyes and wraps the chain they dangle from around them several times before placing them on the table.

  Today he wears his greys, like everyone else, but I notice a pair of old, tatty slippers peaking out from under the cuff of his pants.

  ‘How are you Dr. Wilson?’ I ask, taking a seat at the table across from him.

  ‘Oh you know, plodding along well.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I respond, pleasantly. I sit in silence staring at him, unable to fathom how I’m supposed to ask him the unaskable.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be at school?’ he eventually asks, finally breaking the silence.

  ‘Probably,’ I mutter. Unfortunately school hasn’t been getting too much face time with me over the last couple of weeks. ‘I came today because I wanted to ask you some questions,’ I explain.

  He looks at me warily. ‘Go on…’

  I begin to fidget with my necklace. ‘I wanted to know more about the tainted,’ I say.

  ‘What about them?’ His voice is brusque and I start to feel like maybe this is going to be a waste of time.

  ‘I want to know where they’re taken.’ I keep my voice as steady as possible so it doesn’t reveal my desperation. I hold my breath as I wait for his response, but I can already tell from the guarded look in his eyes he’s not about to tell me what I want to hear.

  ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ he says.

  ‘Please…’

  ‘You know I’m beginning to feel quite tired. I think you should leave.’ He nods his head at the door, but I don’t move. He’s my last chance. He has to help me.

  ‘Fine,’ he says. He leans over towards the large red button that calls for an attendant.

  ‘You said your grandson was taken!’ I blurt out. He stops. With his arm still reached out towards the button he freezes.

  ‘And?’ he slowly turns back and asks.

  ‘I could help you get him back.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because you’re not the only person who’s lost someone.’

  He eases back into his chair and watches me as he deliberates. ‘If you’re not tainted you can’t leave,’ he finally says.

  ‘I can if you help me.’

  He ponders over this for a moment before he continues. ‘I do want him back, but I can’t help you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He turns to stare at the wall, refusing to respond.

  ‘You said yourself the tainted are no threat. The Council has taken so much from all of us and you know as well as anyone how hard it is to let go of the ones you’ve lost. I have nothing left to lose. Can you help me?’

  ‘I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I don’t know where they are taken. The little authority I had over the tainted is gone. Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I can help you.’

  ‘But you know things. There must be something you can do…’

  ‘What I know is that what you want to do is dangerous. You could die.’

  He sounds so certain that I can’t believe that’s all he knows. I obviously don’t want to die—I’m not completely irrational. But I want to find Sebastian. I’m not afraid to face a little danger and to be honest I’d be stupid if I didn’t expect some element of it.

  ‘I accept there are risks,’ I say, my voice sounding more confident than I feel.

  He shakes his head at me. ‘I fear you will regret this.’

  I pause for a moment. Just a second to wonder if I’m jumping in too deep—to consider whether I’m going to be in way over my head. I quickly dismiss the thought. Sebastian is worth the risk.

  ‘What do I have to do?’ I ask.

  ‘Like I said, I don’t know where they go. I’m not sure how I can help.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I respond. ‘I don’t need to know where I’m going. I just need to fake the blood test.’

  ‘Now that, I suppose, I can help you with. It won’t be easy though. You’ll need to get a hold of one of the tainted blood samples. They don’t exactly leave them lying around.’

  ‘Where are they kept?’

  ‘The hospital has storage rooms on the third floor. You’ll find everything you’re looking for there.’

  ‘Third floor. Okay I can do that.’

  ‘You need to make sure you get a sample that’s the right blood type—you do know your blood type?’

  ‘Oh, ah, yes it’s O-positive.’

  ‘The vial you’re after will be in one of the fridges across the far wall of the storage room. It should be labelled with “LyTBS”.’

  ‘Oh-okay. Yes, I can do that.’ I begin to worry as I listen to his instructions. What if I mess up and get the wrong sample?

  He stands and walks over to the bookcase that leans against the far wall. He rummages around through the books before turning back to me, a small piece of paper in his hands.

  ‘I don’t expect you’ll be back, with or without my grandson…’

  ‘Then why are you helping me?’

  ‘I guess partially because I, like you, have nothing left to lose. But also, if you do by some miracle find him, I want you to give him a message.’ He brings the paper over to the table and as he nears I can see it’s a photo. On the back of it he draws a symbol I’ve never seen before.

  ‘Here.’ He passes me a small crinkled picture of a boy about my age. It’s one of the generic shots we all have taken for our ARC user profiles. Across the back of the picture written in black pen is, ‘Aiden, eighteen years old.’ Under it is the strange design he’s drawn: a vertical thick black line with a triangle hanging from the top.

  I safely slide the picture into my pocket.

  ‘Well, whatever your reason for helping me, thank you,’ I say, standing up.

  ‘Good luck,’ he says. ‘Something tells me you’re going to need it.’