Elixir (15 page)

“Sounds like you're going to be locking up the place again,” Mr. Mercer said.

“I do it so often I think they should be hiring me to be a security guard,” he joked. “I'd best be off.” He bowed slightly from the waist and then pushed through the doors.

“Ruthie,”
my mother said softly and then chuckled. “He always calls you Ruthie.”

“I know.”

“Funny, but I know of only two people who ever called you Ruthie. My mother, when you were just a baby, and of course, your father.”

I hadn't even thought about that, but she was right. It
was
what he'd called me sometimes. That made me feel happy and sad all at once. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“So, are you going to the washroom?” my mother asked.

“Yes. I won't be long. I'll be right back.” I started away.

“Where are you going?” my mother called after me.

I stopped. “To the washroom.”

“But there's one much closer in that direction,” she said, pointing down another corridor.

“I know, but I like this one better.” I turned and started away again before she could say anything more. I shook my head. If that wasn't the stupidest lie I'd ever told, I didn't know what was.

I came up to the door and glanced back over my shoulder. The corridor was deserted. I pulled the putty out of my pocket and stopped. If I did this, Melissa would sneak in here tonight. Was I right to do it? I had to think it through.… No, I didn't have time to think. And maybe it would be better if I didn't think. If I were a soldier in battle, I would just go with my gut, just do what was right. Wasn't that what heroes did?

I opened the door ever so slightly. I removed the putty from my pocket and jammed it into the door catch. I pushed it in place until it filled the entire space. Would this even work? Quietly I let the door fall closed. Then I pushed against it and it opened … it wasn't locked. I started to hurry back to where my mother was waiting but then stopped. Now I really
did
need to go to the washroom!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I STARED UP
at the fan slowly spinning on the ceiling above my bed. It wasn't cooling anything, but at least it provided a kind of steamy breeze. I listened to the whooshing sound and watched the blades spinning. Usually it was like counting sheep, with the sound and the motion putting me to sleep, but tonight it wasn't working. Tonight I couldn't sleep a wink. Instead of focusing on the rhythmic drone of the fan, my mind was on the faint tick … tick … tick coming from the clock in the living room. And the longer I listened, the louder it seemed to get.

I rolled up my pillow and flipped onto my other side. I was facing the wall and squeezed my eyelids tightly closed. But of course that didn't stop me from hearing the clock. Or thinking about what time it was and what was happening right now … or
could
be happening right now.

I turned back around and opened my eyes. With my eyes closed, all I could see were the unwelcome pictures inside my mind. Images of the dogs—I hadn't been able to get rid of those—and another image … Emma.

Painfully thin, just skin stretched over bones, brittle, patchy hair, leaning in and smelling the brownie I held in my hand. And when I'd stood so close, I couldn't help but smell her breath. It was so foul. I shuddered.

It was all so awful. I wished she'd never come into the building. I wished I hadn't talked to her. I wished she wasn't dying. I wished I could just get her out of my mind.

I then thought about her father. Imagine travelling all the way from Boston just to find out a little bit more information about what Dr. Banting was doing because he'd heard “encouraging” things. Dr. Banting had used that same word before. Encouraging … what exactly did that mean? Did Mr. Rogers really think that Dr. Banting and Mr. Best were going to find the answer? Those two working in that little hot, smelly lab, not even sterilizing their equipment correctly? What was the chance of them being the ones to find a treatment for diabetes when nobody else could? Mr. Rogers had dragged Emma all this way to chase something that had practically no chance of succeeding. Practically no chance … but he had no choice.

I'd talked to my mother about Emma and Mr. Rogers. She said she understood completely, but that I wouldn't understand until I had children of my own. She said the only thing possibly worse than being Emma was being
her mother or father, waiting, watching, desperate to save the life of your child. She said she would have
walked
from Boston if it meant there was even the smallest chance in the world that coming would save the life of
her
child. There was a difference here, though, a difference she didn't know about. Sometime during this night Melissa and the others would go into the building and take those dogs and there would be
no
chance that Dr. Banting was going to discover anything. There would be no chance that Emma was going to be saved. She was going to … going to …

I sat up. I needed to know what time it was. I climbed out of bed and padded out into the living room, moving slowly, careful not to bump into anything that might wake my mother. Actually, there wasn't much chance of that. She frequently had trouble sleeping and the doctor had prescribed a sleeping powder for her. She mixed a spoonful of the powder with water most nights and drank down the murky substance. Soon after drinking it she'd be sound asleep, a low whistling sound coming out of her nose, and she wouldn't rouse until the morning. Sometimes I even had to wake her up so we wouldn't be late for school. I could hear the sound of her nose whistling right now. It never bothered me. It just meant she was there, close by.

I picked up the clock from the table and brought it right up to my face to try to read the dial. It was a few minutes before one in the morning. I headed back to bed, climbing in and pulling up the covers. It was a long
time till morning. It wasn't even the middle of the night yet … when exactly was the middle of the night? It had to be later than one o'clock. Maybe two in the morning, or even three. That's when Melissa said they were going to come and get the dogs—which meant they hadn't gone yet. The dogs were still there. It would have been better if they'd already gone into the building and taken them. At least it would have been over and done with … over and done with. And whatever small chance Emma had would be over and done with as well. And I would have played a big part in destroying that chance.

“Just stop it!” I hissed. I needed to get to sleep. Maybe I could take one of those sleeping powders and get away from my thoughts. Only I'd wake up tomorrow and the thoughts would still be there … but the dogs wouldn't.

It wasn't right what he was doing with those dogs. It wasn't. They were living things with feelings. Dr. Banting even admitted they had feelings. But Emma had feelings too. Oh, why hadn't I just minded my own business? Why hadn't somebody been there by the door so I couldn't put the putty in the catch? Maybe before he'd left Mr. Mercer had done his rounds through the building, checked the doors, discovered the putty, and removed it. I knew there was really no chance of that. There was no way his poor old legs could have taken him that far. The putty was there and the door was unlocked, waiting for Melissa to walk in and take the dogs. Unless someone went and removed the putty first.

I sat back up and threw my feet over the side of the bed. I knew what I had to do. The university wasn't far. It was a fifteen-minute walk—much quicker if I ran. I could get there, take out the putty from the catch, and run back. My mother would never know. Melissa wouldn't know either. I could just tell her that I put it there and someone must have taken it.

Then it struck me what I was contemplating. I was going to get up, leave behind my bed, get dressed, sneak out of my house, and in the dead of night go all the way to the university. I had the sudden urge to lie back down and pull the covers over my head. Or better yet, climb under the bed and hide there until daybreak. I couldn't really go outside, could I? It was dark and dangerous, and what if my mother awoke and found me missing? She'd be terrified. And angry. And that terrified me.

Maybe it would be better if I just woke my mother up and told her why I needed to go to the university so she could come with me and … no, that wouldn't work. She'd be just as mad as if she found me missing. If I just left and returned on my own, there was a chance she wouldn't know—a chance she'd
never
know. A chance that no one would ever know what I had done.

I climbed out of bed and took my clothes from the back of a chair. I started to slip them on over top of my nightgown. My fingers fumbled with the buttons and hooks. My hands were shaking. I went to put on my shoes and thought better of it. For now I would move
more silently in bare feet, and I could put my shoes on once I was safely outside. Safely outside … that certainly sounded like a contradiction.

I walked across the bedroom, the wooden floor creaking eerily underfoot. If my mother did awake and discover me now I could just say I was going to the bathroom … in my clothes and carrying my shoes. Better to hope she didn't wake.

I unlocked the front door and the bolt clicked ominously. I held my breath and listened. I heard that faint whistling sound coming from my mother's bedroom. I stepped out and slowly, silently, closed the door behind me. I'd have to leave it unlocked so that I could get back in. I sat down on the steps and pulled on my shoes. It was time to go.

It was dark, but not as dark as I'd thought it would be. The street lamps each threw out a halo of light. They looked like stepping stones leading me into the night. I'd never even been awake this late, let alone outside. It was a very strange feeling.

I took a deep breath. It felt good, soothing. The air was still hot but much cooler than during the day.

Up ahead I could see where our little street ended at the bigger road. Occasionally a burst of bright lights would streak past as a car rumbled by. I hadn't thought about there being cars and people about. I'd never imagined that anyone would even be awake this time of night.

I came up to the intersection. I tried to stay in the shadow of a building at the corner, partially hidden behind some crates piled at its side. I looked in one direction and then the other. I waited while a lone car, still well in the distance, came closer and closer and then passed. The road was now deserted and I ran across. The asphalt was still hot and radiated heat stored from the daytime. I didn't stop running until I got well clear of the road, crossed the sidewalk, and ran across a patch of grass and into a stand of trees at the perimeter of the university grounds.

The trees spread out, stretched alongside a footpath— the footpath that led to the medical research building, the path my mother and I usually travelled on the way to work. I took a step out of the stand of trees and then stopped. I knew the footpath would be faster, but somehow it seemed safer to stay within the shield of the trees. There'd be less chance of me bumping into someone if I stayed off the path. Of course, being in the trees meant that I was more likely to run into something else. Something else like an animal. I tried to think what sort of animals would be in the city. There certainly wouldn't be any big animals, like bears or wolves. At least I was pretty sure they never came into the city. But I'd heard about skunks and raccoons. Bumping into one of those wouldn't be as bad as a bear, but it would still be pretty startling. In fact if any animal bigger than a mouse jumped out at me, I thought I might die of shock.

I angled out of the trees until I was on the grass but still within their shadow. Without the sound of rustling leaves or snappy twigs beneath my feet I started to move faster and more quietly. I did notice that my feet were becoming damp from the dew-soaked grass.

I stopped as I came to the open square that sat in front of the medical research building. Rather than walk through the middle of the square I moved along the outside. Passing by the darkened windows of the buildings I had the eerie feeling that I was being watched, even though I knew no one was there. At least no one I could see. I picked up my pace.

I reached the building and started up the steps leading to the main door. Then I stopped and froze mid-stair. Force of habit had just pushed me in this direction, even though it was the wrong one. So I trotted back down and ran to the side of the building. I came up to the patch of bushes and dropped down to my hands and knees, crawling through the opening. I stood up halfway and tried to catch my breath. The run and the anticipation had utterly winded me. I was so nervous I think I'd forgotten to breathe.

Still bent over, I looked at the door. It was the reason I was there. Why did they even have to put a door back there when they constructed the building? It wasn't necessary. I straightened up and took the last few steps. I reached out and grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened. I'd expected that, but it still surprised me. I dug my fingers into the catch and began to remove the
putty. It had gone in as one big piece but it was coming out in smaller fragments. I had to make sure I got enough of it to allow the door to lock. I fumbled around, feeling for what I couldn't really see in the dim light. I did have enough of it, I was pretty sure. I'd close the door and then try to open it. That would be the test. If it locked I could rush back home and no one would be the wiser. Melissa wouldn't be able to get in and the dogs would be safe.

Unless of course they'd already been there. If I just left, I wouldn't know until morning. No, not morning, not for two days! Today was Friday, so I'd have to wonder until Mother took me to work on Monday morning. It would be awful, waiting, not knowing. I had only one choice—I had to go upstairs and check.

I pulled the door back open, slipped inside, and let it close behind me. There was a solid, metallic click as the throw settled into the catch and the door locked. I pushed against the door, without touching the bar that opened it. It was locked now. That felt good. But looking down the darkened hall stretching out in front of me, I realized that that was the
only
thing that felt good.