Hidden (Book 3 of the Immune Series)

Catch-22 (Part 1)

Mya

I come to slowly, one limb, breath, moan, and pain at a time. My mind awakens first, and sounds materialize out of the trench of darkness around me. A soft ding. Someone typing on an electronic keypad. The creak of arthritic door hinges.

I feel the moment my back touches the cold metal of a table like I've just been baptized in ice water. That small action wakes up the rest of my sense of touch. Leather straps being pulled across my wrist. The crinkle of a medical sheet under my head. Gentle wind blowing down from an air vent nearby.

I must be in Mom's lab.

It's Monday, and I'm about to undergo yet another experiment. Will it be a numbing solution this time or a chemical that makes me sick for days? Will Finn have to sing me to sleep or hold my hair back while I puke?

Wait. Finn.

The thought of him drives my stomach to nausea, and I let out a deep moan.

Finn's dead. The last experiment killed him. I ran away with Sakir. Infected trapped us in a cave, and I was attacked.

Where am I?

I lift my eyes open one at a time and turn my head to look down at myself.

My left ankle lies half off the table. My pale feet reflect the bright white lights of the room, barefoot and filthy from walking. Black thread lines the swollen and red skin around the bone, piecing me back together like Frankenstein's monster.

Who sewed me up?

A voice rushes back to me, calm and stern. I remember black hair and silver eyes over a light dusting of pale freckles. Her hands were calloused but strong. I feel like I should know her name, but I can't think of it.

"President Ashford?"

A voice cuts through the silence of my paralysis and makes me jump. I swivel around to see, an action which makes my entire head explode in a swirl of dizziness and confusion.

"The Julien girl is in Room 16b, right beside the holding room. Yes, sir, she's awake."

When I open my eyes again, the man holding a phone glances at me. He narrows his eyes before turning away.

"I understand, sir."

He lowers the phone and jabs it into his pocket. Without another word to me, he walks out of the room.

I take the opportunity to inventory the room around me. It looks a lot like Mom's lab, from the machines that line the wall to the sinks and vials on the counter. Yet, there are some obvious differences as well.

First, everything here is spotless. Papers and files coated Mom's counters, and half empty vials of testing solutions scattered themselves across the marble. Whoever works in this lab has taken the tile to straighten up and put away their files. The medicines are grouped by color, in rainbow order, and each of them wears a white sticker like scarves.

From where I lay I can't read the labels. I'm not sure I would want to. Some of them look familiar. How many of them have been injected into Finn or me before?

I turn my head away from the counters and inspect the silver wall to my left. It reflects the room back at me with crystal clarity. It's a mirror, not a wall.

With a groan, I let my head fall back on the table. My entire body aches in a dull sort of way, as if I overworked the muscles during our Physical Activity time. I don't feel tired- not anymore- but the stiffness glues me to the metal table.

Where would I go anyway?

Where is Sakir? Did he leave me again?

I open my mouth to start screaming his name when I hear the beeping of the electronic lock. My head swivels around to see the white door swing open and two people walk in.

The first is a man wearing a pressed gray suit with a white shirt underneath. His white hair gives away his age, matching the white beard that lives on his chin. His black shoes reflect the overhead lights as much as the mirror to my left does.

The person accompanying him takes a quick intake of breath, and her hand clamps over her mouth.

"Mom?" I whisper, relaxing back down into the table.

My mother wears her usual uniform. The white jacket caressed her knees and covers her arms. A silver stethoscope hangs around her neck. Her gray streaked auburn hair sticks out from her messy ponytail. She didn't even brush it. Knowing her, she forgot.

"Mya," she says, taking a step towards me. The man holds his arm out to stop her, though, and she bites her lip.

"Hello, Mya," he says as he lowers his arm. "My name is Nicolas Ashford, but you can just call me President Ashford."

My breath catches in my throat.

I'm in Compound 1.