said, “Now that the excitement’s over, why don’t we finish the goddam badminton ga—”
“Hello, girls,” Iris said. “Do you want to come over here?”
Luke looked around. Joe was gone. There were two little blond girls standing where he had been. They were holding hands and wearing identical expressions of dazed terror. Everything about them was identical except for their tee-shirts, one green and one red. Luke thought of Dr. Seuss: Thing One and Thing Two.
“Come on,” Kalisha said. “It’s all right. The trouble’s over.”
If only that were true, Luke thought.
13
At quarter of four that afternoon, Luke was in his room reading more about Vermont lawyers who specialized in the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act. So far, no one had asked him why he was so interested in this particular subject. Nobody had asked him about H. G. Wells’s invisible man, either. Luke supposed he could devise some sort of test to discover if they were monitoring him—googling ways to commit suicide would probably work—and then decided doing that would be nuts. Why kick a sleeping dog? And since it didn’t make a whole lot of difference to life as he was now living it, it was probably better not to know.
There came a brisk rap on the door. It opened before he could call come in. It was a caretaker. She was tall and dark haired, the nametag on her pink top proclaiming her PRISCILLA.
“The eye thing, right?” Luke asked, turning off his laptop.
“Right. Let’s go.” No smile, no chirpy good cheer. After Gladys, Luke found this a relief.
They went back to the elevator, then down to C-Level.
“How deep does this place go?” Luke asked.
Priscilla glanced at him. “None of your business.”
“I was only making con—”
“Well, don’t. Just shut up.”
Luke shut up.
Back in good old Room C-17, Zeke had been replaced by a tech whose nametag said BRANDON. There were also two men in suits present, one with an iPad and one with a clipboard. No nametags for them, so Luke guessed they were doctors. One was extremely tall, with a gut that put Harry Cross’s to shame. He stepped forward and held out his hand.
“Hello, Luke. I’m Dr. Hendricks, Chief of Medical Operations.”
Luke simply looked at the outstretched hand, feeling no urge at all to take it. He was learning all sorts of new behaviors. It was interesting, in a rather horrible way.
Dr. Hendricks gave an odd sort of hee-hawing laugh, half exhaled and half inhaled. “That’s all right, perfectly all right. This is Dr. Evans, in charge of Ophthalmology Operations.” He did the exhale/inhale hee-haw again, so Luke surmised Ophthalmology Operations was doctor humor of some sort.
Dr. Evans, a small man with a fussy mustache, did not laugh at the joke, or even smile. Nor did he offer to shake hands. “So you’re one of our new recruits. Welcome. Have a seat, please.”
Luke did as he was told. Sitting in the chair was certainly better than being bent over it with his bare butt sticking out. Besides, he was pretty sure what this was. He’d had his eyes examined before. In films, the nerdy kid genius always wore thick glasses, but Luke’s vision was 20/20, at least so far. He felt more or less at ease until Hendricks approached him with another hypo. His heart sank at the sight of it.
“Don’t worry, just another quick prick.” Hendricks hee-hawed again, showing buck teeth. “Lots of shots, just like in the Army.”
“Sure, because I’m a conscript,” Luke said.
“Correct, absolutely correct. Hold still.”
Luke took the injection without protesting. There was no flash of heat, but then something else began happening. Something bad. As Priscilla bent to put on one of those Clear Spots, he started to choke. “I can’t . . .” Swallow, was what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His throat locked shut.
“You’re okay,” Hendricks said. “It will pass.” That sounded good, but the other doctor was approaching with a tube, which he apparently meant to jam down Luke’s throat if it became necessary. Hendricks put a hand on his shoulder. “Give him a few seconds.”
Luke stared at them desperately, spit running down his chin, sure they would be the last faces he would see . . . and then his throat unlocked. He whooped in a great gasp of air.
“See?” Hendricks said. “All fine. Jim, no need to intubate.”
“What . . . what did you do to me?”
“Nothing at all. You’re fine.”
Dr. Evans handed the plastic tube to Brandon and took Hendricks’s place. He shone a light