3

Selah and Mari left before Pasha launched into her age-appropriate answer to Dane about Selah’s condition. No matter how gently it was said, Selah didn’t want to hear again how she was going to die or go mad—or both—in less than nine months if they didn’t find the Third Protocol.

The elevator opened. Selah and Mari started to exit on Treva’s floor, but she rushed out of her door and into the car. “We need to get there now while shifts are changing. They’ll be too busy to give us much grief. But Mari, you’ll have to wait outside. I don’t have any kind of clearance for you.”

Mari started to protest. Selah touched her arm. “We’ll be in the MedTech Unit. It’s a fortress. I’ll be safe. We won’t be long.”

They hurried out the living quarters’ main entrance and crossed the courtyard.

Selah marveled at how normal the day seemed out here, with the sun shining, people milling about the courtyard between classes at the Institute for Higher Learning . . .

She stopped and turned toward the sea.

Waves lapped at the shore, and off in the distance, almost to the horizon, sat the geodesic dome housing Petrol City. She had never gone out there to visit Treva when she was teaching classes, but she was drawn to it by a strange feeling of familiarity.

Mari slid her hand onto Selah’s shoulder. “Are you all right? You look far away.”

Selah smiled and patted Mari’s hand, then pulled away from the comfort of her sister’s touch and turned back to the business at hand. Her insides tensed. Her whole world was about to change—again.

“Mari, you’ve got your communicator with you, right?” Treva led them up the stairs to the MTU, stopped at the entrance, and looked back over her shoulder before yanking on the heavy oak door.

“Yes. Do I need to call someone?”

Treva ushered them inside. “Tell Bodhi to meet us, and we’ll be out by the time he gets here.”

“Why are you calling Bodhi when we’re only a dozen yards or so from our quarters?” Selah asked.

“Hopefully it’s just cautionary. I guess we should be mindful of everything we see or hear,” Treva said.

Selah took her by the arm. “What’s the matter?”

“I think we’re being followed.”

Selah and Mari rushed to the door and peered out the glass panels.

“What did you see?” Selah asked. Mari keyed her communicator to Bodhi and spoke in hushed tones.

“There are three men seated on the benches around the tree. I’ve never seen them before, and their boots are caked with mud,” Treva said.

Mari closed her communicator and rejoined the girls. “Bodhi will be here in a few minutes. What’s wrong with having dirty boots?”

“No one who has a reason to be in the Quadrant would be caught dead with dirty shoes, let alone ones caked with mud,” Selah said.

“Let’s finish and get out of here. Mari, stay here by the door, and if anyone asks, tell them you’re waiting for me.” Treva motioned Selah down the cavernous hall.

Selah shrugged off a chill and hurried behind her. The temperature inside the old stone building was at least ten degrees cooler than outside. Unlike her part of the building on the front of the complex, which had been washed away by the tsunami during the Sorrows and then replaced by high-tech glass, these cavernous halls were part of the original stone structure. The only daytime illumination was a floor-to-ceiling window far down at the other end. Their footsteps echoed down the hall.

Selah quivered again, and without warning a starburst flashed before her eyes. She stumbled, grabbing Treva’s sleeve in the process.

Treva moved to steady her. Selah blinked and stretched her eyes open to refocus.

At that moment, a screech filled the space, echoing the length of the hall. The hair stood up on Selah’s arms and at the nape of her neck.

“Now, that’s someone who is not fine. It’s crazy they’re letting him suffer like that.” Selah’s words rushed out as she felt the blood drain from her face.

“In here.” Treva motioned her to a white door on the left. “We can get permission from the healer for access to him.”

The girls stepped into the lab, which was brightly lit by large luminescent panels in the ceiling. The majority of the room contained individual work areas and medical equipment Selah couldn’t identify, so she hoped Treva would take notes.

“Hello, Treva, what can I do for you today?” Brejian, the lead healer, had an imposing six-foot frame, with black hair standing several inches tall like the bristles of a horsehair brush. She had a scar that started at her scalp, moved down the left side of her face, and ended at the corner of her mouth, which caused her lips to barely move when she spoke.

Treva put on her best smile. “Good day, Brejian. We’d like a few minutes with the unfortunate young man before he’s transferred—”

“That is not possible.” Corel, the assistant dressed in a white lab coat like Brejian’s, looked up from his bio-computer and rose so quickly his long legs tangled in the chair. He nearly flung himself across the desk, but recovered quickly and darted to where they stood. Selah bit her lips, stifling a smirk.

“Why can’t we see him? He’s now on my caseload.” Treva, hands on hips, looked at Corel as though she were ready to do battle.

“Because it’s simply not allowed. He has to be prepped for the transfer, and it takes time. Besides, I don’t know why he’d be on your caseload. You’re not even a real doctor.” Corel towered over Treva by a good seven inches or so, his long dark hair tied in an unkempt ponytail at the nape of his neck.

“Easy, Corel.” Brejian glared and raised a hand.

“I assure you I am a medical professional with several bioengineering degrees from the Mountain, including microbiology and genetics, and I’d be glad to recite them if you have about a half hour.” Treva glared at Corel then turned toward Brejian.

“I will vouch for Treva’s credentials. She is the person single-handedly responsible for Glade’s recovery at the Mountain.” Selah spoke lightly so it didn’t appear as though she was trying to intimidate Brejian by mentioning her father’s name.

Brejian turned to Treva. “We need to talk after you’ve seen him. Hurry. The transport squad will be here in an hour.” She tightened her already thin lips. “Corel, take them down to his unit.” She turned to Treva. “Be mindful, he’s very fragile at this juncture.”

Corel stormed to a wall hanger and grabbed a large, old-fashioned key ring. “I think it’s quite useless to waste time when—”

“Corel!” Brejian began to tremble. “No one wants your opinion!”

Corel’s nostrils flared. He stared at Brejian as though they were having a silent conversation, but Selah couldn’t sense any streaming or mind-jumping, and she didn’t know if they were Landers or not.

Corel turned to the door and slapped it with his palm. “Follow me!”

“And wait there with them,” Brejian added.

Selah exchanged grins with Treva as they followed Corel down the hall. Seeing him so perturbed and haughty was amusing.

The rapid pace set by his long legs made them trot to keep up. He loped down the wide corridor to a distant door and fiddled with the metal ring until he found the right key. They traveled through another hall and another door. Selah’s hands grew moist. This maze of hollow-sounding halls brought back memories of the Mountain.

Corel stopped at a metal door and slid open a small rectangular panel to expose a wire mesh–covered glass.

Selah wondered at the extreme nature of the thick metal dressing the door like a lock. Her laugh came out as a nervous croak. “Is this door heavy enough to hold back the boy?”

Corel’s face was blank, but his glaring eyes spoke volumes. “He broke through the last two, so we’re hoping this one holds until they get him out of here tonight.” He peeked in then unlocked the door and motioned them inside.

Selah sucked in a breath and stepped forward but paused at the open door. She had to know what the road ahead could possibly look like.

Corel gestured. “Go on in. The light hurts his . . . um . . . eyes, so we keep it low.”

Subdued lighting created foreboding shadows, and the air smelled sour with sweat. Selah glanced at Treva and shrugged. She wasn’t about to let low light keep her from observing. But was she happier with just wondering about rather than outright knowing the affliction that could become her reality—or, better stated, loss of reality?

They shuffled into the cell. The door slammed shut behind them.

Selah jumped. A surge of lightning zipped through her body. In the last few months she had come to realize her adrenaline rushes caused the lightning. More worrisome, though, was the fact that the surges didn’t seem to bring the same kinetic responses as they did in the beginning. She seemed to get less from each surge.

The key scraped in the lock. It felt final. Her emotions jumbled again.

Selah breathed harder. She couldn’t tell if it was due to the lightning surge or fear of being locked in. At this moment in time they both produced the same effect. When her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw a young man curled in a fetal position on a small, thin mattress substituting for a bed.

Treva moved closer to Selah. “Should we try to mind-jump?”

“No. We don’t know if touching minds with him in this condition will push him into the abyss or not.” Selah pursed her lips. “Maybe try a stream?”

A dense coat bound the young man from his neck to his hips. The sleeves covered his hands and ended in leather straps that wrapped around his body and cinched at the back, thus keeping his arms tightly crossed over his chest. His head rocked back and forth and occasionally banged into a darkened, dried blotch on the wall at the back of the bed.

Treva stumbled back a step. “I tried streaming his thoughts, but they’re so chaotic. He’s gone . . . for good.”

Selah squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to accept that she might become like this if they didn’t find the Third Protocol before her novarium year ended. She moved forward a step at a time. “Hello, my name is Selah.” She turned to Treva. “Did you see his name anywhere?”

Treva looked around the bare room. “Nothing here to identify him. There was no name on my case sheet either, just his designation and a number.”

Selah turned away and slapped her hand on the door several times. “Corel, what is the boy’s name?”

“Katlo,” the muffled response said. “His name is Katlo Seston.”

The boy moaned loudly. Treva backed away from the bed.

“Katlo, can you hear me?” Selah bent over, moving to eye level with the bobbing head. There had to be a part of him they could reach . . . a part of her that would live.

He rocked faster. Treva touched Selah’s shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t get so close. He could be dangerous.”

Selah wondered if people would think the same thing about her several months from now.

The rocking turned into a wail. Selah straightened up as the boy’s head rose. A string of drool snaked from the right side of his mouth and lazily stretched into a clear thread to the bed. With eyes closed and mouth stretched wide, Katlo continued the high-pitched wail.

Selah only flinched, but Treva covered her ears.

She tried again. “Katlo, we’ve come to he—” How could she say help? There was nothing they could do for him. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes flew open—bloodshot with large star-shaped cataracts covering the lenses. Selah gasped and stumbled back. Treva moved in for a closer look.

“This is indicative of a lightning strike. I’ve never seen anything this bad before. But his chart says this is a hematogenic condition.” Treva tried to get a better look. Her movement agitated the boy and he squirmed with renewed vigor.

“This is no time for big words.” Selah backed farther away, trying to pull Treva with her.

Treva wrestled free. “They say he’s got symptoms of a blood disorder. I think I can—”

The boy launched himself off the bed at Treva, knocking her to her knees. She grabbed the leather strap at his waist as he pounced on top of her.

Selah screamed. “Corel! Help!” She grabbed Katlo by the other side of the strap, and the two girls flipped him onto his side.

From the corner of her eye, Selah saw the small panel on the door open and close. Her heart raced as she helped Treva scramble to her feet.

Katlo grunted and rammed Treva headfirst like a charging bull. She threw her arms out to ward him off. Selah tried to throw herself between them, but Katlo back-shouldered her to the mattress. The edge of the metal frame dug into her backside. She winced at the white-hot pain and watched, frozen, as Katlo dislocated his shoulder and wretched his arms up over his head.

He tried to stretch the strap connecting the sleeves around Treva’s neck. Treva grabbed his shoulder and twisted, pulling him down to the floor. They rolled. He pinned her down.

Selah seized the back jacket straps and yanked. Her leg muscles tightened as she tried using her body as leverage to dislodge Katlo from Treva. She was breathing hard now. His strength seemed superhuman, and even Selah with her novarium abilities struggled to control his violent weight.

With his legs free, he kept using his body as a battering ram, continuing to pummel Treva and drag Selah along with him. She sucked in a breath and pulled.

The door crashed open and Corel rushed in. With one hand, he lifted the struggling boy off Treva, bounced him back to the mattress, and jammed a hypo-pen into the side of his neck.

Katlo seemed no worse for wear. He continued to wail, thrashing about and banging his head on the wall, then suddenly went limp.

“I told you it was no use. Now I think you two ought to get out of here before he does serious damage to you. It’s a good thing there was a tranquil dart hypo-pen on the next station or you’d have been in serious trouble.” Corel spit out the words with unmasked contempt.

Selah stared at him, disturbed by his body-speak. He let it happen on purpose. He could have stopped it at the onset, but he wanted to teach us a lesson. She grabbed Treva by the arm and helped her hurry from the room. “Are you all right?”

Treva smoothed her tunic. “More fear than pain. He just knocked the wind out of me.”

Residual fear pressed in on her. Selah felt numb at the hard-core reality staring her in the face—what she would become if they failed. Treva also remained quiet for the length of the first hallway. They clutched each other tightly.

Going through the second door and out into the main hall, Selah sighed, tears in her eyes. She’d never be able to pretend she hadn’t seen that poor boy whose reality would only get worse.

Treva ran a sleeve across her eyes, lifted her head high, and smoothed her tunic with shaky hands as they approached the lab door. She turned to Corel. “Thank you for coming to our aid.”

Corel mumbled something and entered the lab, leaving them alone in the hall.

Selah looked at the ceiling, high and dark above her, and felt that darkness pressing in. “Eliminate them from civilized society. That’s what the Council woman said.” She turned to Treva with a pained expression. “They’re locking them away, hidden from society.”

“There’s not much that can be done until I—or you—find the cure,” Treva said.

Resigned, Selah hugged her. “We’d better get on the road west or else that will be me.” A shudder skittered up her back.

Treva seemed to regain her composure. “I’ve got someplace to start working. I’ve only ever seen that kind of cataract going a full 360 degrees around the eye lens after a lightning strike, and I know this boy was nowhere near lightning when the fracture started.”

“So are you saying it was an energy surge?” Selah turned to look at the lab door.

“I think so. At least I know where to start,” Treva said.

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming with us? We could set up a traveling lab for you to work from.”

Treva patted her hand. “I know you don’t believe me, but I would feel it if Cleon was dead. And I don’t. I loved your brother more than life itself, and I will wait here until my dying day for him to find a way to come back to me.”

Selah wanted to gently remind her that Cleon couldn’t have survived the catastrophic extent of his injuries.

“Besides,” Treva added with a soft smile, “my uncle was still alive . . .”

Selah pulled her lips tight. She just couldn’t bear to cause Treva any more pain by trying to convince her otherwise.

Selah had lost her hair tie in the scuffle, and unlike Treva’s hair, which remained firmly twisted in a knot despite everything, Selah’s disheveled hair hung around her shoulders and in her eyes. She pushed it back behind her ears and then wrapped her arms around Treva’s shoulders. She was feeling worse every minute because she was going to miss this dear friend very much. They’d likely never see each other again.

Treva nodded. “You go on and get ready to leave this place. I’m not so sure Corel helped us as fast as he could have. I want to talk to Brejian.”

Selah gave her a sideways look. “Do you think you could ask her to let me into the Repository for a few minutes?”

The door to the lab opened. Brejian charged toward them.

Selah backed away. Her senses heightened. Had Bodhi gotten to the building yet?

“Are you all right? Corel told me what happened.” Brejian’s concern appeared genuine.

Treva stepped forward. “No thanks to Corel. I’d say you people have some explaining to do about why you’d allow the novarium to come to harm.”

Selah moved up beside her. “I saw Corel look in the viewer. It was a good minute before he came in.”

Brejian shoved her hands into her lab coat pockets. “There is no telling what that idiot was thinking, but I want to make you a proposition.”