Part 22 (1/2)
After a moment of focusing on him, the film cut out. A hand held up a sign that read: SUBJECT 005.
Back in the same cla.s.sroom sat a small boy. He was younger than the previous subject, no more than six years old. He was cross-legged on the floor, his hair a mop, his face covered in freckles. His eyes were growing hazy around the edges, just like Dante's.
”How old are you?” Dr. Newhaus asked.
The boy thought about it, sucking on his finger. ”Twenty,” he said finally, his voice boisterous.
”I see. That's quite old for such a small person.”
The boy didn't answer.
”How many years have you been in school?”
The boy thought. ”Ten.”
”Can you tell me why it's bad to kiss people on the mouth?”
The boy looked at him as if he were confused.
”Is it bad to take someone else's soul?”
The boy didn't seem to register the question. ”I'm hungry,” he said instead.
”I don't think I have any food here except for a few b.u.t.ter biscuits. Would you like one of those?”
The boy hesitated. Without warning, he sprang up toward the camera, his limbs thras.h.i.+ng as he leapt toward Dr. Newhaus. Someone screamed. The camera trembled and then fell to the ground, focusing on the legs of a chair. Loud voices. A chair scuffing against the floor, and then an abrupt crash.
Two pairs of legs swathed in stockings crossed the frame. And then someone-presumably Dr. Newhaus-picked up the camera and steadied it, focusing on two nurses who were restraining the boy in the chair, while he kicked at them. They held him until he calmed, and remained by his side when silence resumed.
After a long pause, Dr. Newhaus said, ”Why did you do that?”
The boy remained still.
”Why did you do that?”
His eyes darted quickly to the left.
”Look at me,” Dr. Newhaus said, his voice sharp.
Before Dr. Newhaus could ask him another question, the boy kicked out of his seat, pus.h.i.+ng the chair over as he lashed out at the nurse to the left. Setting the camera down, Dr. Newhaus jumped into the screen and pinned the boy to the floor.
”Okay, that's enough,” Dr. Newhaus said, only his legs visible as he threw his suit coat on the floor and bent over the boy. ”Let's get him back to his room.”
The clip ended, and a hand held up another sign: subject 067. A girl sat in front of us. She was prim and obedient-looking, like an elder sister. She sat on the edge of her seat with her knees together.
She gazed out the window, focusing on something far in the distance. ”I still can't believe that I did it.”
”What did you do?” asked Dr. Newhaus.
”I did what they asked me to do.”
”Which is what?”
”I killed someone.”
There was a long pause.
”Whom did you kill?”
”I killed a boy, a small boy.”
”How did you do it?”
”I followed him, and then I captured him, and then I buried him.” She blinked.
”Does what you did bother you?”
”Monitoring is my job,” she said.
”But does it bother you?”
”I've been training to be a Monitor for my entire life. This is what I'm supposed to do.”
”What are you looking at?” Dr. Newhaus asked, his voice gentle.
She looked at her knees, where her hands were clasped in a tight knot. ”I'm not looking at anything.”
”Could I ask you to look at the camera?”
”I'd rather not.”
The film cut out again. We watched several more, the change of light in between each new subject making me wince. In the shadows I could see the whites of Noah's eyes as they traveled over me. I met his gaze. For the briefest moment, he held it, and then looked away, the projector humming behind us until the film turned white. Dr. Newhaus's voice boomed out from the darkness as if he were still offscreen. ”I showed you this because you have to understand what you're being asked to do. You have to understand who you are.
”What can we glean from these interviews?” he asked, turning on the lights.
”Why were their eyes like that?” Brett asked. ”I've met Undead before and they weren't like that.”
Dr. Newhaus rewound the projector to the second Undead boy, paused it, and approached the screen. ”You mean this?” he said, pointing to his irises, which had just begun to blur into the whites of his eyes. Just like Dante's. ”As the Undead age, they decay and lose their senses. In other words, he is going blind.”
”What?” I murmured, though only Anya could hear me. Dante was going blind? He hadn't told me.
Dr. Newhaus motioned to the image of the Undead boy. ”As you'll remember, he had been in school for ten years at that point. But still, he had no idea what I was talking about when I asked him why it was bad to take someone's soul. This is why the very young Undead are so dangerous. When a child dies and reanimates before he reaches the maturity level to fully understand right and wrong, he will never be capable of learning the difference. This boy was six years old when he died. He will always remain six mentally, regardless of how many years he remains on earth. These Undead children are wild, unteachable, amoral. They take what they want without shame or guilt. And as you witnessed, they're agile.”
The conversation wandered from the boy to the Monitor girl who had just completed her first burial. ”She's just like us,” everyone kept saying. But I wasn't interested in her.
Quietly, I raised my hand. Through everyone's voices, Dr. Newhaus called on me.
”Yes, Renee?”
The cla.s.s grew still.