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Chapter Fifty-Seven: The One Where They Assign Value to Lives

  The next morning, I woke with eyes so swollen that I couldn’t for a second trick myself into believing that the previous night had been a bad dream. My ruined dress was lying in a crumbled heap on the floor of my bathroom. I kicked it aside as I rummaged through my medicine cabinet, trying to find the cream that Gretchen ordered for me in the city. I found it and rubbed the cream all over my eyes, cringing against the burning sensation that accompanied the reduction in swelling.

  After a long, hot shower, I dressed in jeans and a thick black sweater. As promised, Captain Alvarez had sent a list of names to my portable communicator. Grabbing the device from my desk, I set off for the Crypto Building.

  Penny was already seated in her usual chair with a large cup of coffee when I arrived. As per usual, Gemma occupied one of the other chairs in the room. Both appeared to be analyzing information on half a dozen computers at the same time. I watched silently as four sets of fingers flew across keyboards as random numbers and letters scrolled downs the screens of each of the individual monitors. I marveled at their ability to process the data simultaneously.

  “Hey,” Penny called without turning around.

  “Morning,” I greeted her. “Hey Gemma,” I said to the other girl. She smiled shyly before returning to her work.

  “You ran out pretty fast last night,” Penny declared, still facing the computers.

  “I was tired,” I replied quietly.

  “So tired that you needed Erik to help you home?” she teased.

  I knew that she was curious, but the last thing that I wanted right then was to rehash my fight with Erik and the accusations leading up to it. Penny would think that I was nuts. I was starting to think that I was a little nuts myself. Last night, I’d felt justified in my actions, but today with no alcohol clouding my judgment, the harsh daylight illuminated just how ridiculous I’d acted. I’d gone into a jealous rage over seeing a guy who wasn’t my boyfriend standing too close to a girl that he’d known longer than he’d known me. Then, when he’d called me on it, I practically bit his head off. I was just this side of sanity. If we didn’t find the spy soon, I was going to end up in a padded cell.

  Penny pressed a key, halting all of the text scrolling across the screens, and swiveled her chair around to face me. Her bright green eyes urged me for more details, but the light dimmed when she saw my distraught expression. Her devilish smile contorted into a sympathetic grimace.

  “What happened, Tal?” she asked gently.

  “Erik didn’t exactly walk me home,” I mumbled, looking at my feet.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “We got in a fight about Donavon and Ursula, and then, somehow, it evolved into something else altogether.”

  Penny studied me intently, almost as if she was willing me to tell her more, but I really didn’t need her confirmation that I was losing it.

  Penny slid a smile into place, but the gesture didn’t reach her worried eyes.

  “So, want to plug this communicator in for me so I can get the info the Captain wants?” I asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.

  “Hand it over.” She held out her hand with mock impatience and an eye roll. I gave her a broad smile and gratefully handed her the electronic device.

  Penny attached my portable communicator to one of the computers not currently being used. Again, I watched in awe as her fingers flew across the keys, entering information too fast for me to follow. Several times, she told me to hold either my thumb or my eye up to a scanner mounted next to the computer. I obediently complied and after what seemed like an excessive amount of typing, she told me that I was all ready to begin.

  Taking a seat in my own swivel chair, I set to work. I spend the next several hours sifting through files on the designated students, downloading and organizing only the pertinent data for each individual. I probably could have just asked Penny, in my special suggestive manner, to do this for me, but I never used my Talents on her. After all, she was the only real friend that I had. My resolve began to waver the longer I stared at the screen.

  “Done!” I announced happily. My eyes ached with fatigue and it took me a minute to uncross my vision.

  “Got everything you need?” Penny asked.

  “Yup, so if you could just disconnect this thing for me, I’ll be on my way.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Penny deftly disconnected my portable communicator and handed it to me.

  “See you at dinner?” she asked.

  “You got it.” I gave a small wave to Gemma and set off.

  My next stop was Medical. I walked through the sliding glass doors and the receptionist on duty waved me back immediately.

  “Room Five, Ms. Lyons,” she said pleasantly. Nodding, I continued on through the double doors to Room Five. The receptionist must have buzzed Dr. Thistler immediately because I’d just managed to jump up on the exam table when she walked through the door.

  “Hi, Natalia. How are we feeling today?”

  I hated when she said “we”, like she was somehow part of me.

  “Same as yesterday,” I mumbled. Sometimes, I wondered why she bothered asking; if I was feeling anything less than “fine” she’d know because I would’ve been whisked into Medical, convulsing. Her only response was a smile. Pulling my sweater over my head, I waited anxiously as she filled the syringe with the thick liquid out of a bottle from her coat pocket. I gritted my teeth as she plunged the tip of the needle into my arm and depressed the plunger.

  The chemicals burned as they entered my bloodstream, and I sighed. The annoyance of receiving daily injections was a small price compared to the calming relief that the medicine provided me. As soon as she removed the injection needle, she replaced it with the one that would draw a sample of my blood. I watched as the syringe filled with my red liquid.

  “All set,” she said, taping a small piece of gauze in the crook of my elbow.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, and eased myself off of the exam table to head for the door.

  “Dr. Thistler?” I asked, hesitating before I crossed the threshold.

  “Hmmm?” she answered distractedly, making notations on her electronic pad.

  “How’s Ernest today?” I asked quietly.

  “Same as yesterday, dear,” she replied without looking up.

  “Oh, okay. Well, thanks.” I wasn’t really sure what I’d expected to hear, but I’d hoped for a more positive response—something like, “he’s great” or “he’s regained his memory.” No such luck.

  In the hallway just outside the door to Room Five, I paused. Closing my eyes, I swallowed my guilt. I had to see him. I had to know if he was really in as bad a shape as Dr. Thistler said. Surely not. I could understand him being confused or dazed, but the way that Dr. Thistler saw it in her mind, Ernest appeared comatose.

  Quickly, I glanced to my left and my right. The hallway was empty. I opened my mind and searched for active brains. I could feel Dr. Thistler’s behind me, but she was busy logging my visit in her files. I could feel activity throughout the entire complex and decided to keep my mind open as I turned and walked to my right.

  Winding my way through the corridors of the Medical facility, I searched in vain for Ernest. I was convinced that I’d be able to track him through his mind, but I couldn’t seem to get a handle on it. Deeper and deeper I traveled into the bowels of the Medical building, scanning my palm at various locations to gain access to the more secure areas. I was definitely leaving a trail behind me—sloppy for a Hunter.

  At last, I reached a door labeled Psychiatric. I took a deep calming breath; I knew that Ernest was behind that door. I still couldn’t feel his mind, but I knew in my heart that he was there. Holding one shaky palm up to the scanner, I waited, a small part of me hoping that I wouldn’t be granted access. The light on the scanner turned green, and I heard the lock on the door disengage. Dread weighed me down like a wet blanket as I pulled the door open and entered the Psychiatric Ward.

  In the first room on my right, I felt an emptiness, a void the size of the Grand Canyon. My feet were forcing me forward before I could register the fact that they were taking me into Ernest’s room. I saw him immediately. He was propped up in a large bed. There was a leather belt secured around his middle, keeping him upright. I was barely able to suppress the gasp that rose in my throat. Tears of shame welled in the corners of my eyes.

  Ernest stared dully in my direction, but his expression was vacant and unfocused. I stood paralyzed in place, the soles of my shoes feeling heavy, as though I’d stepped in wet cement. One of Ernest’s eyes began to twitch, and he made a soft gurgling noise deep in his throat. I swallowed hard and swiped his mind. I didn’t bother to suppress the sob that clawed at my windpipe this time. Ernest’s mind was empty. Not confused, not dazed. Empty. I sunk to my knees, my fists balled at my sides as hot tears ran down my face and splashed the linoleum floor. Wrapping my arms around myself, my body began to shake.

  “Natalia, I told you that this was not a good idea,” Dr. Thistler’s voice sounded behind me.

  Her white lab coat clad form swam when I turned to look up at her. Dr. Thistler grabbed my upper arm and pulled me to my feet with a strength that I hadn’t believed she possessed.

  “Can I put the memories back?” I stammered hopefully. Maybe I could make this right.

  “No, Natalia,” she replied gently. “It’s too much of a risk.”

  “To who?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “To you,” she responded as if the answer were obvious. The answer had been obvious; I’d just needed to hear her say it.

  “I don’t care!” I insisted. “This is all my fault, I’m a monster.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “No, you are not. And you are much too valuable to this organization to risk a memory re-implementation.”

  “What about Ernest? Isn’t he valuable?” I demanded.

  Dr. Thistler gave a weary sigh, and then gently led me from Ernest’s room. Her non-response brought to mind the words that Ian Crane had thrown at me in Nevada, “You have no idea what your Agency does to innocent people,” he’d said. Maybe I hadn’t known then what TOXIC did to innocent people, but I was starting to realize it now.

  Crane had told me that my parents’ deaths were a consequence of war; was Ernest’s condition now a consequence of war, too? Could I be so callous as to accept that notion? Once again, I was left with more questions than answers. Worst of all, I was starting to wonder how much of what Crane told me was true.

  I desperately wanted to go back to my room and pull the blankets over my head, form a barrier against the outside world. Instead, I walked numbly from the Medical building to the Arena to meet Captain Alvarez. I couldn’t erase the image of Ernest and his blank stare from my fragile psyche. Ernest’s condition was considered an acceptable risk of psychic interrogation, but it wasn’t a risk that I wanted to be part of.

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