He stretched a navy blue sweater over his head and pushed his arms through the sleeves. “Is she older or younger than you?”
“Younger.” Candle helped him pull the sweater’s hem down to his waist. “But not by a whole lot.”
After quickly tying his shoes, Timothy reached for the final garment, a heavy collegiate jacket, blue with orange trim. “Is it cold outside?”
“Pretty cold, but no colder than it usually is up here.” Candle flapped his sweatshirt’s long sleeves. “I was comfortable in this.”
Timothy dropped down to the floor again and lifted each leg in turn. They felt heavy, but not too bad. He put on his jacket and smiled at Candle. “Where to now?”
Candle slid his hand into Timothy’s. “To the loading platform. We’ll walk slowly so Mother has time to return before we get there.”
“I would have liked to meet your sister while she was here.”
“She came to your door.” Candle nodded toward the exit. “Didn’t you see her?”
In his mind, Timothy redrew the little girl’s gaunt, scaly face peering around the door frame. “I did see a young girl, but I thought she was a patient here.”
“Well, that was Listener. Mother likes for both of us to come whenever she’s assigned hospital duty.”
“She seems like a friendly girl.” Timothy pressed his lips together. It was probably best not to keep asking about Listener, though her pitiful appearance raised plenty of questions.
As he guided Timothy out the door, Candle smiled and squeezed his hand more tightly. “I hope Valiant can meet you.”
“Why is that?”
“He is my village’s leader.” Candle turned the dial by the door. The lanterns in the hanging fixture winked out. “Valiant was worried that someone without a companion might be altered.”
Timothy looked for Candle’s companion. He caught a glimpse of it floating near his shoulder. “Altered?”
“Yes.” The boy’s dark eyes seemed to dance. “But you’re not one of them. I can tell.”
As they walked down the hallway, Timothy marveled at Candle’s noble innocence, feeling free to walk in public hand-in-hand with an adult male. Was he twelve years old? Thirteen? A few boys his age might hold hands with a father, but probably not with a stranger.
The dim corridor was unlike any hospital he had ever seen—roughly hewn beams instead of tiles for floors, a single hardwood bench serving as a waiting area instead of sofas surrounding a television, no visitors carrying flowers or balloons, no nurses with trays of medicines, and no patients lying in gurneys awaiting transport to the next battery of tests. The place felt more like a rustic log cabin than a hospital.
Passing room after room, all with closed doors, Timothy gazed down the seemingly endless hall. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice echoing.
Candle pushed their clasped hands into a gentle swing. “Mother will meet us on the transport deck. We’re almost there.”
“No. I mean the patients. It feels like we’re alone in here.”
“We are. You’re the only patient, and I’m glad. Now Mother and Listener and I can go back to our farm.”
Timothy looked down the hall behind him. The end seemed at least a hundred yards away. “Such a huge hospital, and I’m the only patient?”
Candle turned into a short hallway that led to a double door. “The last war was almost three years ago, and nearly every room was filled. We even took care of some of the altered tribe.” He pushed open the swinging door. “Here we are.”
A frigid breeze swirled into the hall. The doorway led to a concrete platform that ended abruptly about fifty feet out, a dead end at the cloud-filled sky. There was no apparent driveway up to that level, and the platform was too small for a helicopter to land safely, especially in this wind. The thick overcast made it impossible to see any surrounding buildings, and even the ground below was hidden in a gloomy mist that enveloped everything.
Candle held the door. “Aren’t you going through?”
Timothy zipped up his jacket and stepped out onto the ledge. His fingers immediately stiffened, and his lips dried out. As his teeth chattered, he buried his hands in his pockets and bounced on his toes. “It must be … below zero … out here.”
Candle joined him, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Now his companion was easy to see as a stream of vapor formed around the egg and blew away with the wind. As his black dreadlocks flapped under his cap, he held the bill to keep it in place. “Here comes the transport,” he