Immune

Mistake

When I open my eyes again, it's raining. Isaac stands beside me, watching me. He doesn't say anything to me, which is probably smart, because I feel like a bomb. My hands shake; my face burns.

"Let's go," I say, taking off at a jog.

I realize half way through our run that it is past Hartley's curfew. That's why we haven't run into anyone. There's no busybodies sitting around on the sidewalk, no kids running around on break. The entire compound sleeps, blanketed in ignorance of what's to come.

In the distance, I hear shouting. The voices sound familiar; one of them is Farrah. I turn into an alley between buildings, hoping Isaac is behind me. The stitch in my side burns as I push on, gritting my teeth.

Finally, the Research Facility comes into view.

The building looms over its surroundings, brightly lit windows casting light down on the tents between us and it. It's the only place in the compound that receives electricity at all hours. Dad's excuse is that the medicine needs refrigeration. I've never been inside.

"Have you ever been in there?" Isaac asks, as if reading my mind.

"No," I whisper back, running a hand through my hair, "We aren't allowed."

Isaac nods, poking his head out of the alley and looking both ways. Giving me a thumbs up, he moves onward, tiptoeing through the tents. I follow close behind, glad to be out of the open when we step under the awning.

Isaac pushes Dad's ID card through the scanner, and the automatic doors slide open, a strong wind blowing down from above. We walk in, guns ready in our hands.

Yet, there's no one around.

The entire room before us is empty. There's a desk, but no one sits behind it. All I can hear is the ticking of a clock, the sound of a machine running in the distance, and the door shutting behind us.

"Where is everyone?" Isaac asks, walking forward.

"In bed, maybe?"

After checking the rest of the floor, we discover it's nothing but offices and empty rooms. So, we head up the stairs, to the second floor. The directory posted on the wall outside the door says the second floor is the psych ward, where they keep the severe Mentally Unstable. I scan the directory with a finger. Third floor is medicinal storage and manufacturing. Fourth is research and development.

"We need to go to the fourth floor," I say. Isaac nods, taking off up the stairs quickly. Where he gets his energy I'll never know, because already I'm breathing heavy, struggling to get up the flights.

By the third landing, I have to stop and take a break, clutching my stomach. Isaac stands at the top, holding his gun, looking down at me concerned. Taking a deep breath, I jog up to join him, sucking in air like a vacuum.

As we push open the 4th floor door, cold air hits us like a wall. What looks like fog rolls out of the door onto our feet, pouring down the stairs.

"What in the world?" Isaac mutters, going ahead of me into the hallway.

On either side of the hall are rooms. We can see into the rooms through floor to ceiling windows. Isaac looks at the left rooms; I check out the right. Mainly, it's a bunch of machinery that I don't understand, pipes and wires connected together with electrical interfaces blinking numbers, words and symbols. None of it makes any sense to me.

"Um, Jay?"

I turn to look at Isaac, who has both hands pressed up against a window. The glass is fogging up around his hands. The door to this room stands open, the same white fog pouring out. I shiver. Following Isaac's line of sight, I see what caught his attention.