The Immune

7: A Full House

I stare at the side of his head as he looks at anything but me.

"Did Dad do anything for you when you transferred here?" I ask, gently.

"He kept me out of solitary," Isaac laughs dryly. "Really, though, there's nothing that can be done. I take meds to sleep; I stay away from guns. Things have gotten easier since nothing really happens around here, but I'm not out of the water, yet."

I can't think of anything else to say, so we fall into an awkward silence.

"Don't worry. I'm not crazy. I won't hurt you."

When I look up, Isaac's staring at me.

"What?" I shake my head. "I never thought that. MU doesn't equal crazy. I know that better than anyone."

He sighs. "I can hope. Most partners take one look at my title and ask for a job reassignment within a week. No one ever sticks around."

"How many partners have you had?"

Isaac turns to a page in his sketchbook. Over his hands, I see the long lines of a tally.

"Eleven," he finally says, picking the pencil out of his hair and adding another mark. "Twelve, including you."

He looks at me with huge, sad eyes that are so green I think I can see blades of grass in them. Thick black eyelashes line the watery whites, blinking slowly underneath bushy eyebrows. They seem to be pleading. Begging me to stay. Not to desert him. I know that's not something I can promise, but for a moment, I'm moved.

"Listen, Isaac." I reach out and touch his knee. He looks at my fingertips then back at my face. "I'm not going anywhere. Us crazies have to stick together. Don't worry for a second about that."

He smiles— the kind of grin that lingers in your cheeks and pulls your lips into thin lines. His cheeks hold two sister dimples, more adorable than I can possibly explain.

All I can think is: what a pair we are.

Isaac pulls away from me and opens his sketchbook. That's the signal that he's done talking. I didn't get to the important questions, but that feels like pushing it. Digging too much might unearth a monster I can't handle. So, I watch him sketch in silence and listen to the time passing in clicks of my watch.

Several hours later when the sun begins to set, the night guards show up. Isaac helps them shut the door, giving me a soft pat on the back as I point to the bandage on my arm. Instead, I watch.

The difference between night and day guards sticks out as clear as, well, night and day. The late crew is rougher, scruffy in the face with calloused hands and elbows. Isaac looks like a kitten beside them, minus the sleeve tattoos. Also unlike Isaac, our replacements carry guns--one per person, thrown over wide shoulders.

"Want me to walk you home?" Isaac asks as we're packing up our stuff. He dumps everything into the plastic bucket, and I hold the chair awkwardly against my chest.

"Um, no, that's okay." I pass him the chair. "Do you live in a house?"

"Nah. I camp with most of the other residents. My tent's pretty close to the research facility, just in case I have an episode."

I nod. The RF isn't far from my house. At least there he has access to the public showers and bathrooms.

"We're going the same way, then," I say with a smile. "We can just walk that far together."

The idea sounded like a good one at the time, but it quickly grows boring. Isaac doesn't talk. Instead, he keeps his head down and kicks at the sidewalk. So, I do the same thing.