“VELVET, CAN YOU HEAR ME? BLINK ONCE FOR yes, twice for no.”
My eyes are open, I realize. And I can see. Blurred shapes, outlined by glowing edges. The stench of burning still coats my nose and mouth. I cough and spit.
“Velvet, it’s Dr. Billings. You’re fine now. I’ve given you some pain medication that should send you to sleep. Okay?”
Or kill me. That’s what he said before, I’m sure of it. They gave me too much medicine before, too much could kill me, I could go to sleep and never wake up. So I won’t go to sleep.
I blink, more than once or twice, over and over again, until Dr. Billings’s face swims into view. Dr. Donna’s next to him, and at least she’s not smiling smugly. She looks genuinely concerned.
“Incredible,” she says. “My God, Arthur. She can’t possibly still be conscious.”
Dr. Billings puts his hand on my forehead. “Velvet, I need you to let go, okay? Go to sleep. You’ll feel so much better if you sleep.”
But I don’t want to slip into darkness. I might not come out of it. I tense my muscles, checking for pain … they all hurt. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, directly between the eyes. Blinking hurts, but since everything else does, too, I keep doing it.
“Come on. Let’s get the collar on her and connected before she starts to struggle again.”
Something tightens around my throat, and I can’t cough it away. Dr. Donna’s face is once again so close to me, I could bite off her nose, if only I could make my jaw cooperate. I would do it, if I could. Instead, my teeth snap shut against themselves.
She looks at me, startled. “Velvet?”
I don’t answer.
She straightens, her fingers working at my throat. I hear a clicking whirr, and then that smell of burning again. Fainter, this time. Another pulse of color, though it’s faded. Then Dr. Donna looks pleased.
“There,” she says. “You’re all set.”
I don’t feel any different, other than the slowly fading ache in my eye sockets and the constriction at my throat. I can’t see the lights, but I hope they’re blinking all a steady green. I swallow and find the collar doesn’t restrict that. I turn my head from side to side and discover I can move without trouble, too. The collar doesn’t seem to be keeping me from anything, but it’s impossible not to know that it’s there.
I close my eyes then. Tears burn, stinging in the spots where she’d slid needles only minutes ago. I hate for her to see me cry, but I can’t stop myself.
“No tears,” Dr. Donna says. “Just sleep. When you wake up, I promise you, Velvet, all of this will seem better. And you’ll be a better girl for it.”
I shake and shake and shake.
Dr. Donna’s voice is soft against my ear. “My daughter’s name is Alaina. She was beautiful, but no matter how many times I told her so, she didn’t believe me. Oh, how we struggled with her. Diet pills, hospitals. She wouldn’t eat. Do you know how many times I almost lost her?”
I want to tell her I don’t care, but nothing comes out of me but a hiss of air.
“I thought ThinPro was a godsend. She lost weight without starving herself. She seemed to be back on track, getting healthy.” There’s a deep, shuddering breath from Dr. Donna, and I open my eyes to stare into hers. They are bright with tears, and her mouth is twisted. No more smug smile. No more predatory grin. “Now my beautiful daughter sits in a puddle of her own waste and doesn’t know her own name, much less who I am. Instead of trying to kill herself, she killed four people. She should’ve been put down, but instead I managed to get her into a StayCalm collar. Just like this one. And I will do anything, Velvet. Anything, anything at all, to find a way to fix her. Do you understand me?”
I don’t want to have pity for her, but something twists inside me. Whatever it is, it must show on my face, because Dr. Donna’s cold sneer comes back in an instant. She jerks away from me like I spit on her.
“Put her to sleep.”
“Velvet. You’ll be fine. This is to help you.” Dr. Billings puts his hand on my shoulder.
I’d roll away from him if I could move, but with my wrists and ankles still bound, the best I can do is to turn my face. I don’t want to look at him. He’s not my friend, no matter what he’s ever said.
“Okay. Let’s leave her for now.”
He hesitates. His fingers squeeze my shoulder. “I should stay with her for a bit, Donna. Just to make sure she’s all right. Cody, you can go, too.”
Left alone with me, Dr. Billings pulls the chair up next to the bed and holds my hand while I cry. I hate him, maybe especially because he’s trying to be so nice now. I can’t wipe my nose, so he does it for me. The snot dripping down my throat tastes like the medicine Dr. Donna squirted up to numb my head.
“I need a drink,” I croak.
He brings me water in a plastic cup, with a straw. I sip greedily, then let myself fall back onto the pillows. Dr. Billings pats my arm.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “I tried to talk her out of the collar. But Donna’s my superior. She’s the one in charge. And she used to be … better. I’ve worked with her for years, and you won’t believe me, but it’s true. Donna was one of the most compassionate researchers I’ve ever known.”
I don’t answer him. For one, it hurts my throat to talk. For another, I don’t have anything to say.
“You’re special, Velvet. You don’t know how much. And sometimes, people who are special have to do things they don’t want to do. For the greater good. Sacrifices must be made. I know it’s hard to believe. And right now I’m sure you hate us all. Maybe even me.” He gives me a half-hopeful smile, like he wants me to deny it. When I don’t, when I say nothing but turn my face away again, Dr. Billings sighs. “But you have to understand, Velvet. All of this is going to help people. I promise you that. I wouldn’t be doing any of this if I didn’t think we could figure out a way to really make a difference.”
I believe he means it. I just can’t bring myself to care. There is a collar around my neck that is sending wireless pulses of energy into my brains to keep me from caring. If I try too hard, it will batter my brain with more electricity until it kills me.
“I know you don’t understand. But you will.” He takes my hand again, offering me comfort I don’t want from him. “I barely understand it myself, but that’s the beauty of science, Velvet. Discovery. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together, making it all fit. You know, I wanted to be a researcher my whole life, ever since I was a kid. I used to do science experiments in my room with beakers and chemicals. My parents hated it.”
I want him to go away.
He stands to do something to the collar. I feel the pressure of it on my throat for a second, then release. “There. That should be better. You know, Velvet, so much of research is hard work, brutal dedication, the grind of experimentation. Over and over, changing the smallest variables to get a different result, trying to figure out what you want to achieve and how to get it. But sometimes … oh, lots of times, no matter how much work you do, how careful you are, how precise … it’s all just a matter of luck.”
He sits again, leaning forward to look into my eyes. Something wet is trickling out of them, and he snags a tissue from the box on the nightstand. It comes away stained crimson, and I’m not surprised to find I’m weeping blood.
“Luck was finding you, Velvet Ellis. Because out of all the people we’ve been testing, you are unique. Now, we thought there might be a chance, given your mother’s rather remarkable recovery—”
“My mother?” The words are slurred, but he understands me.
Dr. Billings nods. “Yes. In all the test subjects, less than one percent of them ever showed any signs of recovery once they’d succumbed to the full effects of the Contamination. Those who’d suffered lesser gradations of Contamination naturally responded much better to the StayCalm collar, and of course the ones who’d been totally destroyed by the progression of their disease didn’t have such a positive reaction. But invariably, all those fitted with the collars were able to control their reactions. Well”—he chuckles a little self-consciously—“not control them, really. Of course you know how the collar works. They’re merely unable to continue reacting negatively to stimuli because the collar prevents it. But less than one percent ever showed any signs of improvement after being fitted with a collar. But your mother … her records showed that she was initially one of the worst hit with the disease. Her brain, simply riddled with holes. Just decimated.”
I try to breathe, rasping harshly in my throat. “You had my mother’s records?”
“Yes. Of course. She was released to the kennel. We do keep records on all the Contamination victims who were reunited with their families. Obviously, we didn’t know her name or history when she was first … um … intercepted. But after you claimed her, we were able to retroactively cross-reference all the previous testing we’d done on her. And when we brought you both here …”
“She’s still here.”
I close my eyes. “She’s alive.”
“Oh … Velvet. Yes. She’s alive.” He sounds a little sad. “I’d have told you if she’d passed.”
“Is she all right? You said remarkable recovery.” Each word is like spitting out pebbles.
“Others tried to take the collars off, you know. And it never worked. They all died. All of them.”
Even in my boggled state, I know there’s no way they can possibly know for sure that’s true. There could’ve been any number of people who never reported taking off the collars, who’d been just fine.
“But your mother … not only did she not die from the removal, but she actually seemed to recover once it had been taken off. Right?”
“Yes. She got better.”
“Unfortunately, of course, the improvement was sporadic and not quantifiable, and she had a lot of regression. Though not to the point she’d been at her worst. The brain is an amazing organ. There’ve been many cases of stroke victims or patients with brain damage, sometimes even catastrophic injuries, recovering many motor functions that should’ve been lost forever. And there’ve been people who get what seems to have been a relatively minor bump on the head who experience complete personality changes, become incapable of the simplest tasks. Forget who they are. And we don’t really know anything about why some people are able to adapt and others can’t. But your mom, she definitely did.”
I force myself to look at him. More wetness slides down my face, and he leans again to dab it. This time, the tissue’s dabbed with pinkish yellow fluid, totally disgusting.
“And now?”
“Now,” Dr. Billings says, and lets out a sigh. “Well, now I’m afraid she’s not doing very well at all. She’s quiet. That’s the best way I can describe her. Your father, on the other hand—”
“Arthur.” Dr. Donna’s harsh voice cuts him off from the doorway. “I think it’s time you left Velvet alone. Cody can sit with her. You should go home and get some rest.”
Reluctantly, Dr. Billings stands, his hand still holding mine. He looks into my eyes, searching them. I close them to keep him from finding whatever it is he’s trying to find, and after a few minutes, he goes away.