Bloodhearts

Chapter nine: Pokémon Cards.

I don't bother to answer on the walkie when the transport comes to pick me and I just head straight down to them and let them take me to the center.

The first thing they do is to screen me and have me turn in my weapons before letting me inside. The atmosphere is thicker here. It makes me sad because I'm reminded of who I was before I got infected, before I died. I think about a younger me who didn't have to grow up so fast and who didn't feel as numb as I do now. A younger me who was so in love with Cory and couldn't imagine a life without him. I still don't know if I can.

Two guards escort me inside the cage I'm supposed to be in and the inhabitants there all give me suspicious looks, staying as far away from me as possible. It's as if I'm contagious to them and it's vital to stay as far away from me as possible. Like I'm the virus in the pod.

I catch the eye of a younger guy. He's the only one who dares to acknowledge me. He's skinny and has dark locks sticking out everywhere and it looks a bit like someone's put him in a stretching machine and pulled it to its limit; he's really tall. It looks like he can hardly hold his pants up with the home-made belt he has. Still, he looks pretty healthy for someone who's technically died. My guess is that he is a few years younger than me.

He staggers over to me with legs as stiff as mine used to be. At least, I've made some progress in that department.

"Looks like you're someone important," he says, watching me with interest. "Should I know you?"

He more or less invades my personal space, checking to see if I am actually as 'non-dead' as my presence here would suggest. He examines me closely like I'm some kind of lab specimen - which I guess is not far off, since I used to be Sadie's guinea pig.

I raise an eyebrow and try to keep up while the guy in front of me speed talks about a hundred different things. It occurs to him that he knows exactly who I am and ends with the very question I was expecting.

"What are you doing in here if you aren't on medication any longer?" he asks with a confused expression.

I shrug. "My dad thought it would be good for me," I lie. "I've had a bit of tough time lately."

"Well..." the skinny guy in front of me considers me for a moment. "I'm Samir. I'll give you a tour of the place. Not that it's big. It's just a hole in the ground, really. But you know, it's home for now..."

Samir doesn't seem to think twice about my lie and doesn't seem to mind that everyone else is keeping their distance. I learn that no one really talks to each other here, which my new tour guide thinks is rude. He's happy to finally have someone to talk to.

"Did you know, they won't trade Pokémon cards with me? I don't get it. I have some really good ones, and they're only slightly worn..." Apparently, a few guys here have cards, too, and are apprehensive about letting Samir into the club.

Samir drones on about the cards and I try to pretend like I'm listening. Really, I'm taking a good look around. There are about ten other returned in here. Some of them look like they're about to finish their treatment. Some look a little paler and have trouble with simple tasks like eating. There are staff here trying to help those who still have trouble with motoric skills. I have to force myself to look at every single one of them despite the discomfort I feel and the memories that keep popping up in my mind. It feels very much like looking into a mirror I'd rather smash into a million pieces.

Staring at the physical therapy sessions going on around me, it ends up being a very long day and nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening. Nobody is showing any suspicious behavior and I end up spending the entire first day with the ever-talking Samir.