Hidden (Book 3 of the Immune Series)

Six

Mya

After leaning against the door for about an hour, trying and failing to catch bits of their conversation, we pass the night shut in our room, reading and tossing a rubber band ball back and forth between us. When bedtime rolls around, we change clothes and wait for the lights to click off.

With the papers safe under my mattress, I lay with my hands tucked under my head, staring at the clock as the minutes pass by.

Why won't Mom let us see him? Why is she keeping him locked up like a prisoner? There's no way to break out of this house. Even if she let him come out, he wouldn't have anywhere to go.

Criminal or not, Six is an immune. His very existence baffles me. Surely she understands that we need to speak to him.

She's hiding something from us, and the thought alone sends chills up my spine. After everything we let her do to us, I can't imagine anything worse to hide from us. We've already faced Hell. There's nothing left that could traumatize us.

I fall asleep like that, neck bent at an awkward angle and mouth half open.

In the morning, the alarm wakes me up. I roll over, grimacing against the crick in my neck. My mouth is a desert, and I open and close it a few times to get the moisture back.

Across the room, Finn sleeps with one leg dangled over the edge of the bed and the other tangled in his nest of blanket. I smirk, pushing up and out of bed. I scared him yesterday; I should leave him alone today.

After I shower and get dressed, I lean over him, patting his cheek with care.

"Wake up, Finny," I whisper, tugging at his earlobe. His face twists into confusion, narrowing his eyes as he peels them open.

"What time is it?"

I smirk. It's the same question every morning.

"Seven forty-five," I say. "I'm making breakfast today. Get ready."

He groans, kicking the covers off as I walk away, passing through the hallway towards the kitchen.

My breath catches in my throat, though, at the sight of Mom sitting at the kitchen table. A loaf of steaming bread sits on the table in front of her, paired with a jar of bright red jam. Looking at it makes my mouth water.

"Good morning," Mom says, not looking up from the folder open on the table.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, reaching into the cabinets for two cups.

"It's nice to see you, too, sweetheart."

"That's not what I mean, Mom. You just never come for breakfast."

"I slept on the couch last night. I was working late."

"Oh," I say, setting the two cups of milk onto the kitchen table.

Finn stumbles in the room, shirtless, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hey, Mom," he mumbles, crashing into the chair. It shakes under the impact, but he leans back in it regardless.

"Morning, sleepy head."

I take my seat, eating in silence while Mom continues to work. Finn wakes up, eventually, sitting up to get a better look at what she's writing. Her arm shields the paper from his sight, though.

"Alright, guys," she says, making Finn jump and drop his slice of bread. It rolls off the table, landing on the floor. "I have to get to work. Study hard."

She pushes the chair back, stepping over Finn's piece of bread and heading to the upstairs lab. When the door's shut, Finn picks his bread up, blowing it off and cramming the rest in his mouth.

"We gonna do it this morning?" he asks, around the ball of wet bread. Crumbles tumble out of his mouth, littering the table in front of him.

"Yeah," I say, blowing the crumbs away. "We might as well get it over with."

He nods, downing the rest of his milk as he stands up.

"I'll stand guard outside the door. Let me just get my tablet."

"Why do you need your tablet?" I ask, calling after him.

"That other piece of paper you had. It's a list. I don't know any of the words, but they look like they might be medicine. I want to research them, see if I can find out what they are."

His voice carries from the study, until he reappears, carrying the slim tablet.

"Think it'll be unlocked?" he whispers into my ear as we approach the spare bedroom door. I grip the round door handle in my hand, taking a shaky breath.

"None of the doors have locks," I remind him, "except the one that goes upstairs. Mom's trusting that we won't break the rules."

"Well, aren't we little rebels," Finn says, laughing as I push the door open. "I'll stay here and let you know if I hear any noise from upstairs."

I nod at him, pushing the door to behind me. The gap between the door and the frame is only an inch, but it feels like a canyon. Finn stands miles away from me, on a different planet almost. In the room, I'm alone.

Well, almost.

In the center of the room, a bed sits. The head has been lifted up, and the feet are lowered, making the figure on it look like he is laying on an incline. A heart rate monitor stands at his head beside a drip of the virus. I recognize the glittering blue liquid like it's my own name.

I tiptoe around the room, circling until I can see Six's face.

His mouth rests half open. His bare chest rises and falls in slow motion, causing the rest of his body to shake. Thick black lashes line his closed eyes, matching his overgrown eyebrows. His skin reminds me of coffee the way Mom drinks it, mostly creamer.

Sweat drips from his chin to his neck, running down his chest, and ending its journey at his waist line. The IV needle strains against the fragile skin of his inner elbow, where light purple bruising already appears.

I touch his cheek, not surprised by his fever.

Memories flood my mind, and I clench my eyes shut to prevent myself from crying. Endless hours spent under a virus drip plague my memories. Muscle memory makes me ache just thinking about the fire that started it, replaced quickly with ice and hunger. I know how he feels, crushed under the weight of a elephant, immobilized by his own body.

I pull the end of my shirt up, wiping his face with the soft fabric. His eyes flutter behind his eyelids, and he takes a deep breath.

"I wish I knew your name," I whisper, pressing a hand against his chest.

A groan escapes his lips, floating around the room before it settles on my spine, making me shiver.

"I wish I could help you, Six. No one should have to feel the pain you are right now."

As the words leave my lips, I move towards the sink, pulling a towel from the stack beside it and soaking it in cold water. When I press it against his forehead, careful not to move his already dripping hair, he shivers, moaning faintly under his breath.

The heart monitor pulses wildly, and I move my hand.

Can he hear me?

When Mom puts us under the drip, we're left alone in the lab upstairs. We aren't allowed to see one another during the experiments. Therefore, I wouldn't know if his sense of hearing is working or not. Either way, the desire to comfort him builds up in my chest.

"It's going to be okay," I whisper, dabbing at his neck with the towel.