Godspeed

Chapter 8

There exists a kind of sleep that one only finds when the worst sorts of pain finally begin to subside. It is a slumber that can be experienced no other way, and no alternate can ever be as welcome or as peaceful.

It was that sort of sleep that held me fast; a safe, dreamless rest that continued until the moment I felt the curious sensation of what I was certain was the warmth of someone’s breath upon my face.

My eyes flew open and I gasped. The person hovering over me jumped back, nearly knocking over the table behind him in the process.

It was neither Quinn nor Schuyler; this was a face I had never seen before.

A tall young man shivered and quaked in his boots before me, apparently even more frightened of what he’d seen than I was.

I jolted my body in an attempt to sit upright, surprised by the strength of the motion even as I found my progress impeded by the restraints that Quinn had left on me. He never let me sleep without them unless he was nearby, and not even then if he was particularly tired or distracted. He was too concerned that I would unknowingly reach up and in some half-dream state fatally wound myself by dislodging the wires that facilitated my tenuous connection to life in this world.

I tried to speak to this stranger, but my voice was far too hoarse. As much as my hazy senses would allow, I took note of his appearance.

He had sandy blond hair that hung in long, layered waves almost to his shoulders. His eyes were a bright jade green, and he was wearing simple tan pants and a tailored white shirt. Nowhere near as extravagantly dressed as I’d expect to see Schuyler or even Quinn by this point, but still obviously the boy was well tended and cared for.

He rushed to the door and, in his haste to retreat, his fingers slipped from the knob and it took him three tries to actually grasp hold of and turn it.

He placed a single finger to his lips, and his eyes pled with me not to betray that he had been here. Whoever he was, it was clear that he was harmless, and I had a feeling that it was just as well that I go along with his silent request not to reveal to anyone that I had seen him.

We both gasped with fright as, just as he opened the door, a shadow appeared beyond it.

Schuyler sighed with exasperation and immediately a hand gravitated to one hip. “For God’s sake, what have you done?”

The boy’s head dropped down in shame, and Schuyler reached under his chin and lifted it gently until their eyes met. He regarded the penitent expression upon the boy’s face, and the momentary anger that creased his brow evaporated as quickly as a summer rainstorm. “Well, you’ve finally seen what we’ve been hiding in here. Are you satisfied?”

The boy shook his head up and down once as Schuyler’s eyes moved toward mine. I begged him, in my way, not to be cross with the young man who had caused no injury to me at all.

“Very well.” Schuyler sighed again, a different sort of a sound — one of resignation. “Do not make any more unannounced visits here, and whatever else you do, for Heaven’s sake, do not let Godspeed know you have seen our guest.” He then gave the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a gentle push away from the entrance to the laboratory.

“What is that?” Schuyler asked. He nodded to me as if to say he would be right back and stepped outside with the boy.

My ears barely picked up on exceptionally soft-spoken words, too difficult to make out from my location amidst the ticking clocks and machines that whirred and hummed all around me, even at lowest possible power. Then I heard Schuyler’s reply spoken much more clearly — and the idea of the question that the boy had asked him brought a rising ache to my throat.