Part 3 (1/2)

And the reason Leech even knew a retro word like turtleneck turtleneck was because he was a Cryo. He'd been frozen during the Great Rise and put safely inside EdenWest by his parents, who couldn't afford to move in themselves. After things settled down, the Cryos were awakened in batches. He and the others lived at Cryo House, which was like a foster home over in the main EdenWest city. All the Cryos came to camp, but then the rest of the kids here were apparently normal, the grandchildren of EdenWest's original inhabitants, and so this was just another part of their life of luxury. Not that I blamed them for that. It wasn't their fault they'd grown up in here. They couldn't be expected to know what it was like outside, to treat the sun like an enemy, to never have tasted spinach. was because he was a Cryo. He'd been frozen during the Great Rise and put safely inside EdenWest by his parents, who couldn't afford to move in themselves. After things settled down, the Cryos were awakened in batches. He and the others lived at Cryo House, which was like a foster home over in the main EdenWest city. All the Cryos came to camp, but then the rest of the kids here were apparently normal, the grandchildren of EdenWest's original inhabitants, and so this was just another part of their life of luxury. Not that I blamed them for that. It wasn't their fault they'd grown up in here. They couldn't be expected to know what it was like outside, to treat the sun like an enemy, to never have tasted spinach.

I ate that first dinner quietly, thinking, Great, twenty-nine days left and I've already been identified, categorized, and labeled Great, twenty-nine days left and I've already been identified, categorized, and labeled. And things only got worse as dinner went on. I sat there mostly quiet except when Todd would ask me a question, and watched as friends.h.i.+ps formed around me, everyone gravitating to one another, the natural thing that people did, except for me, a satellite off in my own orbit. It was just like so often back at school, and I never knew how it happened, how you did that magic thing where you became part of a group, and it seemed like, once again, it was already too late before it even started.

There were ten of us in the cabin. We'd gotten the basics out of the way the first night: Leech, Jalen, and Xane were the Cryos. Mike, Carl, Wesley, Bunsen, and Beaker lived with their families in EdenWest. Noah and I were the outsiders. He was from Dallas Beach, along the Texas coastline. It was kind of like Hub: a little satellite state of the ACF, which basically meant that, other than the military units that came and went to escort supplies, it was on its own. You'd think that would have made us natural friends, but Noah had already made his intention clear to join Jalen and Mike as one of Leech's minions. I suppose I could have done the same, but it never really occurred to me, and it had been obvious even by the end of dinner that first night that no more invitations for the Leech club were going to be available. Also, I was pretty sure I didn't like him from the first moment I met him.

Leech and Jalen had immediately started bonding by referencing ancient TV shows and comic books and junk from way back in pre-Rise, talking in code and making the rest of us feel inferior. When Leech had started tossing out nicknames at dinner, Jalen was the only one who laughed. Xane got the jokes but didn't really join in. He was the one who'd told me what Turtle meant, later.

”What happened to your neck?” asked Beaker as I reached the ladder to my bunk. He had the bed below mine. Leech had two cubbies, even though we were only supposed to take one each, and so all of Beaker's clothes and shoes were stuffed under his bed.

Just the mention of my neck made the slow itching seem to get stronger.

I was about to answer when Leech's voice boomed across the room. ”Beaker! I thought I told you: no speaking!”

Beaker sighed quietly and his shoulders slumped.

”Good Beaker,” said Leech.

It had been established that Bunsen and Beaker were on the lowest rung of the cabin food chain, where everything you did made you a target. I seemed to be up on the second level, where you were more just invisible, enough so that you could drown without anyone noticing.

”You can talk if you want to,” said Bunsen quietly to Beaker. He was lying on the next bunk over, typing up a letter on a computer pad, the blue light reflecting on his big round gla.s.ses. The cabin only had one computer. You weren't allowed to bring your own, to preserve the experience. But you could write a letter home on the cabin pad, and then the camp would send the letters out over the gamma link each night.

”Hey, bed wetter!” Noah snapped, looking up from an old board game called Stratego that he was playing with Mike. He was talking to Bunsen. Jalen claimed that he'd seen Bunsen crying and changing his sheets in the middle of the night. No one could confirm this, but Leech and his gang had decided it was fun to believe it, and so it was. ”Shut up and try not to p.i.s.s yourself!”

”You-,” Bunsen began.

”Careful, bed wetter,” warned Leech.

I climbed up into my bunk and lay down, staring at the ceiling. My neck was starting to really burn. I rubbed at the bandages with my knuckles.

”All right, guys.” Todd appeared in the doorway. ”Time to head to the dining hall.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and started out.

I sat up but then felt a wave of dizziness and lay back down. The itching rose like a wave.

”Owen, how you feeling?” asked Todd.

”I don't know,” I said.

”Dr. Maria said you might need to rest. If you want to skip dinner, that's fine with me.”

”Okay, yeah.”

”We'll bring you back some food.”

”Thanks.”

I listened to them leave, a commotion of shuffling footsteps, jostling shoulders, and laughing and shouts. It faded. The insect drone seeped through the window, the cabin now silent and still.

I fell asleep for a little while, but the burning in my neck woke me up. I needed a distraction, so I grabbed the computer pad and lay back down. I started a letter to Dad: Hey Dad, Things are okay here. Guess you heard about my swimming accident but I'm mostly okay.

I stopped, not knowing what else to report. I didn't want to tell him about my neck. Not because of Lilly's warning not to tell anyone, but because I didn't want him to worry. I wondered if I should tell him that things were basically terrible in my cabin? That would probably make him worry, too.

It's Tuesday. How was work? How was the game?

I tried to think of more to write, like maybe ask him what he had for dinner. Thinking about Dad and how he'd manage on his own made me think of how Mom always made fun of him for not liking to cook. She used to say that he'd be lost without her. Except she didn't seem to think about that when she left.

The itching was getting worse, so much so that I could barely think straight.

Okay, write back soon.Owen I sent the message and put the pad down. I lay back, trying to keep my hands off the bandages. Maybe if I thought about Lilly, about her lips on my ear as she whispered to me, about the closeness of her leaning over me and the view I'd had of her bathing-suited figure-and that made things start to burn in other places.... But even that couldn't compete with the searing in my neck.

I ran my fingers over the bandages. Hotter. And I was starting to have this weird urge. I didn't get what it was, I just knew that I couldn't lie there anymore. I had to get up. Had to do something. It was almost like I wasn't in control of myself.

I climbed down off my bunk, wincing now, gasping at the pain, and started pulling off my clothes, while at the same time wondering, What are you doing? What are you doing?

Don't worry, said a new technician in a bright-red jumpsuit. You want this itching to stop, right? You want this itching to stop, right?

Yes, that was what I wanted. So badly.

Okay, he said as he busily a.s.sembled a new monitor screen, then just do this. then just do this.

I stripped down, grabbed my towel from my cubby, wrapped it around my waist, and headed for the bathroom.

I turned on the shower, cold water only. Dr. Maria had given me explicit instructions: stay out of the water. But I wasn't thinking about that. Or anything, really.

Keep going, the new technician advised.

The water hissed out of the showerhead. I got in. The second the stream hit my chest, I felt this huge s.h.i.+ver, and then a rush of calm. Like everything was relaxing. My wounds still itched, but less.

Don't touch them. That was Dr. Maria's other warning. But instead I started clawing at the tape that held the bandages on. I peeled it up and unwound the fabric. At the end, the last few layers resisted, stretching away and then finally breaking their dried-blood bonds with snaps of pain. The burning surged. I leaned out, tossed the crusted bandages into a sink, then dunked my head into the shower spray. That was Dr. Maria's other warning. But instead I started clawing at the tape that held the bandages on. I peeled it up and unwound the fabric. At the end, the last few layers resisted, stretching away and then finally breaking their dried-blood bonds with snaps of pain. The burning surged. I leaned out, tossed the crusted bandages into a sink, then dunked my head into the shower spray.

Water poured over me, down over the wounds, and the itching suddenly ceased. Like my nerves had been shut off. Relief spread through me.

There we go, said the new technician.

I reached back up to the wounds. My fingers came away with thick crimson blots. Drops of water dabbed the blood away. But the wounds didn't hurt. They didn't itch. And the blood wasn't bothering me. Not since the water had starting falling on me. There was blood and water and wounds, and yet I felt calm, that strange sense of peace like I'd had on the lake floor, returning.

Other technicians were shrugging. I can't explain it, sir I can't explain it, sir, said one.

None of this made sense except the undeniable relief. Okay Okay, I told myself, think like a normal person think like a normal person. If the wounds don't hurt, then this blood is just 'cause the bandages pulled off some scabs on the surface, or something. The wounds must be almost healed. Fine. If the wounds don't hurt, then this blood is just 'cause the bandages pulled off some scabs on the surface, or something. The wounds must be almost healed. Fine. So we rinse them off and cover them up again. So we rinse them off and cover them up again. I stuck my head back into the shower stream and turned to the side, exposing the wounds. Water hit them directly and the calm feeling increased, the pain barely a memory. I stuck my head back into the shower stream and turned to the side, exposing the wounds. Water hit them directly and the calm feeling increased, the pain barely a memory.

Then I coughed. Took a breath but coughed again. Wait-there was a weird feeling, like water in my throat. Tightness in the back of my windpipe. I couldn't breathe.

I lurched away from the stream of water and slapped at the dial. The water stopped, but my balance was off. Spots bloomed in my vision, and I tripped and fell sideways, tearing down the shower curtain and landing on the cement floor.

I lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling with its single naked lightbulb, trying to breathe, but I couldn't, like nothing worked. Everything stuck.