Glow (8 page)

“I was electrocuted,” she said, not so much questioning as remembering.

“Yes. Your heart and nervous system were affected, and you were burned. You needed immediate attention. That’s partly why we hurried you away.”

“You shot at people,” Waverly said, her brown eyes fixed on the woman’s angular jaw. “My friends.”

The nurse dropped her eyes to Waverly’s knees, and she fidgeted callused fingers. “There was a panic. They had to control the crowd, but the casualties were few.”

“Why should I believe you?”

She thought she saw fear in the woman’s eyes. The room felt menacingly quiet, as if the walls possessed an alien will.

“You have no choice but to trust us,” the nurse said slowly and carefully. There was a message in the way her eyes fixed on Waverly’s, willing her to understand:
You have no choice.

Waverly felt very fragile.

“Have you had your fill of broth?”

Waverly nodded. Her stomach had shrunk as she began to realize what was happening. She might never see her mother again, or Kieran, or Seth, or any of the other people she’d grown up with all her life. She nearly vomited.

“I know what might cheer you up.” With a knowing smile, the nurse left the room but was soon back with Felicity trailing behind her. “This girl must be a friend of yours. She kept asking how you were. Now you two can have a lovely chat.”

Felicity looked haggard, though her pale hair was pulled away from her face in a neat bow. She wore a plain blue dress that brought out the blue of her eyes, and formal slippers on her feet. She sighed when she saw Waverly and sat on the bed.

“We’ve been so worried about you,” she said.

“Are you all right? Are the girls safe?” Waverly asked.

Felicity said with measured voice, “They haven’t hurt any of us.”

Waverly looked over Felicity’s shoulder. The nurse was sitting in a chair by the door, her legs crossed, her pant legs too short so that the tops of her cotton socks showed. She pretended to peruse Waverly’s chart, but she was clearly listening to the girls.

“How long have we been here?” Waverly asked.

“They keep us away from clocks. All I know is I’ve slept twice.”

“Where is the Empyrean?”

Felicity’s bottom lip quivered. “They say they haven’t gotten any communication since we left. They’re looking for wreckage.”

The bed tilted, and for a moment Waverly felt as though she might fall off. Destroyed. Her home. Everyone she’d ever known. Her mother. And Kieran.

No. It was impossible. If she gave in to this, she didn’t know how she could go on living. Waverly gripped Felicity’s hands and waited until their eyes met, then she whispered, “That’s what they
said,
right?”

Felicity sucked in air through her red lips. “Right.”

“Don’t shut down.”

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked distantly.

Waverly knew her friend too well. When Waverly’s father died in the air lock accident, Felicity had pulled away from her in the faintest way. Whenever Waverly talked about her father and how she missed him, she felt that Felicity was trying to listen, trying to say the right thing, but she always managed to change the subject and redirect Waverly’s attention to something cheerier. “I don’t want to cheer up! I
want
be sad!” she’d yelled once, but Felicity didn’t seem to hear. Their friendship changed after that. They were still best friends in name, but they were never really close again. Waverly knew that it wasn’t her fault, that Felicity just wasn’t very strong. But it still hurt.

In this situation, though, the girls had no choice but to be strong.

Waverly reached for Felicity’s hand, held on so firmly that she could feel the girl’s fingers squirm. “I need you to stay brave with me, Felicity. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Felicity said, but she pulled her fingers out of Waverly’s grasp.

A knock sounded at the door. The gray-haired woman, Anne Mather, leaned into the room with a smile. “How’s our patient doing?”

Waverly did not answer.

The woman sat in a chair near the head of the bed. She moved the same weary way the nurse moved, and Waverly could see her face was moist with sweat. “You’re a resilient girl,” Anne Mather observed.

Waverly looked at her own knees. She didn’t like looking at the woman because she found herself being pulled in, persuaded.

“You’ve been through so much, child,” the woman said softly.

Waverly lifted her eyes. “I’m not a child.”

“Oh, dear, that’s right. You’re probably all the way through puberty, is that right?”

This was such a strange question, Waverly could only stare.

“Oh, I’m sorry. We’re very frank about these things aboard the New Horizon. Forty-three years alone in space makes people … comfortable with each other, doesn’t it?”

The nurse snickered but stopped after a cold glance from Anne Mather.

“Waverly,” Mather said, “we’re doing everything we can to search for survivors from the Empyrean. Don’t give up on them yet, all right?”

“Really? You’re trying to help them?”

“That’s right. We’re doing all we can.” Anne Mather put a friendly hand on Waverly’s knee. “Dear, we’re going to count on you to help us with the other girls. Felicity has been wonderful.…”

Felicity’s eyes snapped onto the woman. Anne Mather took no notice, though the girl was standing right next to her.

“We think the girls need reassurance from you, Waverly. Since you’re the oldest.”

Something wasn’t right in the way Anne Mather watched for the tiniest whisper of expression on Waverly’s face.

“What do you mean?” Waverly asked. “Reassurance about what?”

“That they’re in good hands here. That we’ll take care of them. Good care.”

Waverly narrowed her eyes, tried to make out what this woman was really saying.

“They’ve been through so much. And the rescue mission must have been confusing. They’ll trust you to know what’s best, won’t they?” She leaned away primly and waited for Waverly to say something.

She could wait forever if she wanted to. Waverly was too angry to offer cooperation. She needed to think.

Anne Mather spoke again, her voice firmer now. “I know you’ve been through an ordeal, but all the girls have. This is no time for self-pity.”

Rage swept through Waverly. She wished she were strong enough to take this woman’s throat in her hands and squeeze her to death. But what if what she said was true, that the girls had been rescued rather than kidnapped?
Could
it be true?

“There can be no great journey without tribulations,” Anne Mather said, her gray eyes skirting the boundaries of the room. “It will be so much easier if we can work together.”

“And if we can’t?” Waverly asked grimly. “What happens then?”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out,” Anne Mather said. The warmth was gone from her voice. She returned Waverly’s stare and waited until the girl blinked before she spoke again. “We’re just so glad to have you girls aboard,” she said, the honey back in her voice. “It’s such a pleasure to see young faces again, isn’t it, Magda?”

“It’s a good thing we came when we did, that’s all,” the nurse said cheerily. She’d come back to stand behind Felicity, who had shrunk to the foot of Waverly’s bed and was holding on to the railing with white knuckles. The nurse laughed and put her hand on Felicity’s shoulder. The girl seemed to wilt under her touch.

“It’s time you got some sleep, Waverly.” Anne Mather nodded at the nurse, who went to a cabinet. From a drawer she pulled a vial and pierced its membrane with a needle.

“What’s that? What are you doing?” Panic rose like acid in Waverly’s throat. She started to get up, but the nurse pushed the needle into a tube that ran into her arm. She hadn’t noticed it there, all this time.

Were they keeping her drugged? Was that why Waverly felt so weak?

“Sleep now, child,” Anne Mather murmured in her ear. “And when you’re well enough to help us with the other girls, we’ll take you off these medicines and you can join the group. Do you understand?”

“So if I don’t help, you’ll keep me like this?” Waverly asked, her voice already muffled.

No answer came, but she felt dry fingers stroking her cheek. Then they moved down her neck, cupping her larynx for one brief, terror-stricken moment.

Waverly wanted to lift her arms to Felicity, beg the girl to stay with her, but her arms were so heavy. She saw the shadow of Anne Mather next to the nurse, and the two women spoke in whispers. What were they going to do to her once she was asleep and helpless, alone in the dark? She struggled to keep her eyes open, but they felt as though they were filling with sand, and soon they were too full, too heavy not to close. The smallest part of her wandered away into a corner deep inside herself.

All sound and light disappeared, and finally she felt safe.

DORMITORY

When Waverly opened her eyes, she saw the nurse, Magda, standing over her with a syringe. “What time is it?” Waverly said, her voice sluggish.

“Okay, then,” Magda said brightly. “Do you want to join your friends, or do you want to sleep?”

“I want to see my friends,” Waverly said. Her mouth was so dry, her lips stuck together.

Magda put down the syringe and sat on the edge of Waverly’s bed. “Pastor Mather will be glad to hear that.”

Waverly looked with longing at the water jug on the table next to her bed. Magda seemed to understand, and she heaved the jug up, wincing with the weight of it, and poured a glass of water for Waverly. The girl sat up and drank, then poured herself another glass, and another, before finally leaning back against her pillows. The water revived her incredibly. She even felt strong enough to make a demand. “I want to see the other girls right now.”

“Pastor Mather will want to speak with you first.” Magda pressed a button on the table next to Waverly’s bed. “In the meantime, let’s get you bathed and dressed.”

The woman drew a bath for Waverly, gave her a fluffy sponge and some soap that smelled of jasmine, and left the room. The warm water felt soothing against her stiff joints. Her entire right side was still very sore from the shock she’d gotten, but it was starting to feel like a healing soreness. Waverly had to keep her burned hand dry, so washing herself took extra time. Waverly lost herself in the fragrance of the soap, pretending she was home, that her mother might knock on the door any second to nag, “Waverly! Hurry up!” She wanted to hide in the bathroom forever, but she could sense someone on the other side of the door, waiting. So she got out and dried herself with a cotton towel, then slipped into the pink dress that was hanging on a hook in the corner. It was a little girl’s dress, quite unlike the hemp trousers Waverly was used to wearing. It was comfortable, even pretty, but it felt like a costume. It must have been borrowed from a girl aboard the New Horizon, though it looked newly sewn. Waverly combed her heavy wet hair away from her forehead, took a few deep breaths, and opened the bathroom door.

Anne Mather was waiting for her, sitting on the chair next to the hospital bed, writing on a notepad. She smiled when Waverly came in.

“You’re looking much better. How are you feeling?”

Waverly flexed her hand. The edges of her burn pulled and stung a little, but the pain was bearable. “I’m fine.”

“I’m so glad. I wanted to have a chat with you before you rejoin the rest of the girls.” The pastor patted the bed, meaning for Waverly to sit next to her. Waverly sat, but much farther away than the woman had indicated, at the foot of the bed.

“Come closer, dear, I won’t bite.”

Waverly did not move; she looked at the woman, who was staring over the wire rims of her spectacles, eyes locked on hers.

Pastor Mather’s brow hardened, but her voice remained soft and lilting. “Dear, I’m afraid I have terrible news. Our sensors have been unable to find any survivors from the Empyrean.”

Waverly imploded, entered negative space. A gray film moved over her eyes.

But no. This woman was a liar, and Waverly wouldn’t accept anything she said. Kieran and her mother were alive.

Pastor Mather studied Waverly’s blank face. Something clicked behind her gaze, and she said, “You must be in terrible shock.”

“I must be,” Waverly said, her voice breathy.

“Dear, I know this is a blow to you, but we need you to help with the younger girls. They need a familiar authority figure, someone they can trust. Felicity has helped as much as she can, but, well…” Mather smiled warmly. “I fear she doesn’t possess your strength of character.”

Waverly made herself smile humbly at Pastor Mather’s compliment. “Well, I am the oldest,” she said.

“That’s right. And with that comes some responsibilities, right?”

“I’ll try,” Waverly said.

Anne Mather studied her until she seemed satisfied. “Then I’ll let you announce that we’re still sweeping the area, looking for your parents. They’ll like knowing we haven’t given up.” She stood up and took hold of Waverly’s hand. “They’ll be having their breakfast, I suspect. You can make the announcement there.”

Anne Mather led Waverly down a hallway into a large mess hall filled with oblong tables. Mather seemed exhausted and out of breath simply walking down the corridor.
There must have been a sickness here,
Waverly thought.

All one hundred and thirty girls from the Empyrean were sitting at the tables, eating. They were wearing variations on the same frilly pink dress that Waverly wore, and their hair was pulled into pigtails. There was hardly any chatter. Only the clink of silverware against metal trays broke the silence in the room.

Little Briany Beckett looked up from her full plate, saw Waverly, and let out a squeak. The other girls noticed, and there was a general cry as they rushed at Waverly, who was suddenly crushed by the crowd, all reaching, touching, and grabbing, patting her back, yelling questions. She held up her hands. “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

Anne Mather had moved away, but she was sitting to the side where she could watch Waverly’s face. When she caught Waverly’s eye, she raised her eyebrows expectantly.