sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s okay,” Dolore said, pouring some water from a pitcher by a deep sink and handing me a glass. “No big deal.”
“I saw...” I killed the sentence before it could escape. I had sworn not to tell anyone else where I was from.
“It’s all right,” she said. “No harm done. You sure you feel okay?”
I sipped the water. “I’m fine, really.”
“Looked like the start of a panic attack,” said the man’s voice. He was in the doorway. He had short brown hair that covered his ears and a large mouth full of straight teeth. But he didn’t wear a doctor’s coat and seemed young to have graduated from medical school. Almost my age. Maybe a year or two older at best.
“Panic attack?” I asked.
“Dolore, maybe you’d better stick around,” he said, and the woman nodded, sitting next to me on the bench.
“What did you see when you went through the door?” he asked. He stayed in the threshold. “You saw something. What was it?”
I didn’t answer. I hadn’t thought about the doctor being a man. All the medical staffers on the Line were female nurses. The guards and the managers were men and gawked at you with their beady, leery eyes, but it was the women who took care of you. In their distant, cold sort of way. But nevertheless, aside from taxi drivers, Benny the bartender, a couple of marketplace workers and the three men who’d chased me my first day out, he was the only guy who’d spoken to me outside of the Line.
I didn’t know why it bothered me so much.
Maybe it was because he was so...handsome.
Besides, if I told him what I saw, he’d know where I was from.
He saw my hesitation. He watched me intently as he entered the room, trying to read me. He put a tablet on the counter by the sink and washed his thin hands with some foul-smelling soap.
“What did you see?” he asked again.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
Dolore patted my leg. “It might, dear.”
I couldn’t help it but I jumped at her touch and dropped my drink. The glass shattered, and water splashed all over the black tile floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Dolore got to her feet. “Don’t you worry,” she exclaimed. “I’ll clean this right up.” She got up to retrieve a broom and a dust pan from behind the door. But the man didn’t move from the sink. He turned his head to the side and studied me.
The intensity of his eyes made me squirm.
“What did you see?” he asked again. He was completely calm and looked me square in the eye, which irritated me even more.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” I sighed. “I said it doesn’t matter.”
He obviously disagreed. “I can’t say whether or not it matters unless you tell me what you saw.”
My frustration boiled over. “All right! I saw the infirmary, okay? I’m from the Line. And I saw the infirmary. But it doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with why I’m here. Can we just get this over with?”
“We’d better take her to my office, Dolore,” he said.
She set down the broom and the dustpan and walked to me, gently taking my elbow. “Come on, dear.”
“Wait, where are you taking me?”
Dolore ushered me down the hall, farther into the building. I tried to take my arm back, but she held tight.
“Wait a second. Where are we going? Let me go.” I pulled against her, but she didn’t release her grip.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” she said, as sweet as honey. “You’ll see. Just stay calm.”
“Hey! Let me go!” I dragged my feet and tried to grab something to stop us. I ripped a puppy poster right off the wall, and it landed with a crash. But Dolore didn’t stop, pulling me down the hall.
My sneakers slid across the floor as if it were ice.
“No! Stop it! Let me go!”
Chapter Seven
I tried to yank free, but the doctor was following right behind us, blocking my escape. Dolore dragged me to a black swinging door at the end of the
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson