about it, I guess.” I start putting on the clean sheets while the TV drones behind me.
I think he’s sleeping, until he talks again.
“I think they’re talking about rounding them all up and killing them.”
I’ve just finished putting on his pillowcase and I turn, squeezing it hard between my fists. “What?”
“Just … killing them. I think that’s what he said. All of them.”
“Not just the unclaimed? The ones that don’t belong to anyone? All of them?”
“There’s some senator or congressman. He was talking on the TV about it. That guy was with him, that doctor fella.”
“Doctor … Frank? Philip Frank?” He was the one who’d figured out the link between the protein water and the Contaminated. He’d been all over the TV in those first weeks, but I hadn’t heard much about him lately.
“Don’t know his name, but he had on a lab coat, so I’d say he was a doctor. Sure. Said he thought they should all be put away.” The old man nods, head wobbling under its own weight. “But I think
put down
, that’s what he means. Not put them all away. Put them all down.”
The world spins and I have to lean against the end of the bed to keep from letting it push me down. “No.”
“It ain’t right,” the old man whispers. “It just ain’t right. I know what they done. But … hell, Dunwoody from down the hall’s a lot more of a mess, done a lot worse than some of them, and he’s still kicking around. They ain’t all bad, right? Them Connies. They don’t know any better, I guess, just like some of us old farts. Some of them done bad things, but not all of them.”
“No. Not all of them.”
“But they all could,” he says seriously. “They all could.”
I don’t ever want to know if my mom’s done anything bad. She must’ve. Because he’s right. They all could. They all would, if they’re not stopped. No, they don’t all kill people, but they would. There’s nothing left inside them to stop them, unless they’ve had their brains scrambled up like eggs in a frying pan.
“Maybe it’d be the best thing for them,” he says. “It ain’t like they can ever get better.”
He looks around the room and shrugs. “Heck, it might be better if they did it to all of us in here, too.”
I’m so upset by this conversation that I leave the room and push the linen cart to the end of the hall. I tell my boss, Ms. Campbell, that I feel sick to my stomach and that I need to go home early. I must look pretty convincing, because she just nods and waves me on.
Outside, I run again. I’m sweating, I look gross, but I pushmyself harder. Faster. I jump the curb, thinking for one horrible moment I’m going to come down wrong and twist my ankle, break my leg, face-plant on the sidewalk. I catch myself at the last second, arms pinwheeling. It felt for the length of a breath and a heartbeat like I was flying, but then my feet hit the concrete and I’m still firmly anchored to the ground.
I make it to the school before the end of fifth period. That’s when Tony has his free period, and he always gets a pass to hang out in the library. I move through the halls without a pass, not really caring if anyone stops me. What will they do, give me detention? They can’t. Maybe, I think as I pass my locker—empty because I have only one class that needs a book—I’ll just quit. Then I can work full-time. Get my GED sometime later. It’s not like I have college in my future anymore.
The librarian barely looks up as I sign in. She’s supposed to check passes, but she never does. That’s why so many kids come here to hang out when they’re supposed to be studying. It’s kind of like a big party in here some days, but quiet. Being loud will still get you kicked out.
It turns out that kissing isn’t very loud. I know this because when I round the corner into the back section of the library, where the old, outdated computer monitors are, I see Tony making out with some girl who’s not even
I think he’s sleeping, until he talks again.
“I think they’re talking about rounding them all up and killing them.”
I’ve just finished putting on his pillowcase and I turn, squeezing it hard between my fists. “What?”
“Just … killing them. I think that’s what he said. All of them.”
“Not just the unclaimed? The ones that don’t belong to anyone? All of them?”
“There’s some senator or congressman. He was talking on the TV about it. That guy was with him, that doctor fella.”
“Doctor … Frank? Philip Frank?” He was the one who’d figured out the link between the protein water and the Contaminated. He’d been all over the TV in those first weeks, but I hadn’t heard much about him lately.
“Don’t know his name, but he had on a lab coat, so I’d say he was a doctor. Sure. Said he thought they should all be put away.” The old man nods, head wobbling under its own weight. “But I think
put down
, that’s what he means. Not put them all away. Put them all down.”
The world spins and I have to lean against the end of the bed to keep from letting it push me down. “No.”
“It ain’t right,” the old man whispers. “It just ain’t right. I know what they done. But … hell, Dunwoody from down the hall’s a lot more of a mess, done a lot worse than some of them, and he’s still kicking around. They ain’t all bad, right? Them Connies. They don’t know any better, I guess, just like some of us old farts. Some of them done bad things, but not all of them.”
“No. Not all of them.”
“But they all could,” he says seriously. “They all could.”
I don’t ever want to know if my mom’s done anything bad. She must’ve. Because he’s right. They all could. They all would, if they’re not stopped. No, they don’t all kill people, but they would. There’s nothing left inside them to stop them, unless they’ve had their brains scrambled up like eggs in a frying pan.
“Maybe it’d be the best thing for them,” he says. “It ain’t like they can ever get better.”
He looks around the room and shrugs. “Heck, it might be better if they did it to all of us in here, too.”
I’m so upset by this conversation that I leave the room and push the linen cart to the end of the hall. I tell my boss, Ms. Campbell, that I feel sick to my stomach and that I need to go home early. I must look pretty convincing, because she just nods and waves me on.
Outside, I run again. I’m sweating, I look gross, but I pushmyself harder. Faster. I jump the curb, thinking for one horrible moment I’m going to come down wrong and twist my ankle, break my leg, face-plant on the sidewalk. I catch myself at the last second, arms pinwheeling. It felt for the length of a breath and a heartbeat like I was flying, but then my feet hit the concrete and I’m still firmly anchored to the ground.
I make it to the school before the end of fifth period. That’s when Tony has his free period, and he always gets a pass to hang out in the library. I move through the halls without a pass, not really caring if anyone stops me. What will they do, give me detention? They can’t. Maybe, I think as I pass my locker—empty because I have only one class that needs a book—I’ll just quit. Then I can work full-time. Get my GED sometime later. It’s not like I have college in my future anymore.
The librarian barely looks up as I sign in. She’s supposed to check passes, but she never does. That’s why so many kids come here to hang out when they’re supposed to be studying. It’s kind of like a big party in here some days, but quiet. Being loud will still get you kicked out.
It turns out that kissing isn’t very loud. I know this because when I round the corner into the back section of the library, where the old, outdated computer monitors are, I see Tony making out with some girl who’s not even
Similar Books
