PATIENTS AND ANDROIDS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.
She draped the blanket over her forearms and tried to look confident as she walked, wondering what she would say if the androids questioned her. But the med-droids must not have been programmed to deal with healthy people coming into the quarantines; they hardly even noticed her as she passed. She hoped it would be as easy to leave. Perhaps she should have asked Dr. Erland for a pass.
The stench of excrement and rot reached out to her as she stepped into the warehouse. She reeled back, cupping her palm over her nose as her stomach churned, wishing her brain interface could dull odors as easily as it could noise.
Sucking in a breath through her glove and holding it, she forced herself into the warehouse.
It was cooler inside, the concrete floor untouched by the sun. Opaque green plastic covered a thin row of windows near the high ceilings, swathing the building in a dingy haze. Gray lightbulbs hummed overhead, but they did little to dispel the darkness.
Hundreds of beds were lined up between the distant walls, covered in mismatched blankets—donations and scraps. She was glad to have brought a nice one for Peony. Most of the beds sat empty. This quarantine had been hastily constructed in just the past weeks as the sickness crept closer to the city. Still, the flies had already caught on and filled the room with buzzing.
The few patients Cinder passed were sleeping or staring blankly up at the ceiling, their skin covered in a blue-black rash. Those who still had their senses were hunkered over portscreens—their last connection to the outside world. Glossy eyes looked up, following Cinder as she hurried by.
More med-droids moved between the beds, supplying food and water, but none of them stopped Cinder.
She found Peony asleep, tangled in a baby blue blanket. Cinder wasn’t sure she would have recognized her if it hadn’t been for the chestnut curls draped over the pillow. The purplish blotches had spread up her arms. Though she was shivering, her forehead glistened with sweat. She looked like an old woman, just this side of death.
Cinder removed her glove and placed the back of her hand against Peony’s forehead. Warm to the touch and damp. The third stage of letumosis.
She spread the green blanket over Peony, then stood, wondering if she should wake her or if it was better to let her rest. Rocking back on her heels, she looked around. The bed behind her was empty. The one on the opposite side of Peony was occupied by a petite form turned away from her, curled in a fetal position. A child.
Cinder started as she felt a tug on her left wrist. Peony was gripping her steel fingers, squeezing with the little strength she had left. Her eyes watched Cinder, pleading. Afraid. Awed, as if Peony were seeing a ghost.
Cinder swallowed hard and sat down on the bed. It was almost as hard as the floor in her own bedroom.
“Take me home?” Peony said, her voice scratching at the words.
Cinder flinched. She covered Peony’s hand. “I brought you a blanket,” she said, as if it explained her presence.
Peony’s gaze fell from her. Her free hand traced the texture of the brocade. They said nothing for a long time, until a shrill scream reached them. Peony’s hands clenched as Cinder spun around, searching, sure someone was being murdered.
A woman four aisles away was thrashing in her bed, screeching, begging to be left alone as a calm med-droid waited to inject her with a syringe. A minute later, two more androids arrived to hold the woman still, forcing her down on the bed, holding her arm out to receive the shot.
Feeling Peony curl up beside her, Cinder turned back. Peony was shaking.
“I’m being punished for something,” Peony said, shutting her eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cinder said. “The plague, it’s just…it isn’t fair. I know. But you didn’t do anything wrong.”
She patted the girl’s hand.
“Are Mom and Pearl…?”
“Heartbroken,” said Cinder. “We all miss you so much. But they haven’t caught it.”
Peony’s eyes flickered open. She scanned Cinder’s face, her neck. “Where are your spots?”
Lips parting, Cinder rubbed absently at her throat, but Peony didn’t wait for an answer. “You can sleep there, right?” she said, gesturing to the empty bed. “They won’t give you a bed far away?”
Cinder squeezed Peony’s hands. “No, Peony, I’m not…” She looked around but no one was paying them any attention. A med-droid two beds away was helping a patient