The Starborn Saga (Books 1, 2, & 3) (9 page)

The entire group lets out moans and grunts at this, angry to know that although none of them have been bitten, all of them must be checked. 

“As for you,” Krindle turns to Aaron. “You will be inspected, then questioned about your team.”

“I suspected as much,” Aaron said.

Krindle turns to leave while Rob instructs the drivers to park the vehicles inside the colony and everyone else to follow him on foot. 

As everyone begins to walk, I can’t get my feet to move forward. I feel like something terrible is about to happen. What does it mean to be inspected? Why won’t they just let me go to Screven on my own? I don’t want Krindle to talk to Jeremiah.

I jump when I feel a pair of strong hands grip my shoulders. I turn to see Connor’s smiling face. 

“Why are you smiling?” I ask.

“Well, for one thing, my brother owes me twenty credits. Another is that it looks like you’ll be sticking around for a little bit.” He pats my right shoulder, but lets his hand stay. I don’t mind, though, because for some reason it’s kind of a comfort. 

“What is an inspection?”

“Like I said before, it’s annoying. But you have nothing to worry about, okay?”

I nod, but I’m not sure I believe him. I think that maybe he’s trying to comfort me, but I won’t feel truly comforted until I’m out of Salem and working toward getting my own colony some protection from the greyskins. 

Connor gives my shoulder a tight squeeze. I don’t know Connor very well, but the feeling of assurance is welcome. “No one is going to hurt you today, I promise. The guards are here to protect us, not hurt us.”

We walk forward past the colony gate as some of the guards give us death stares. We follow the others to a building that seems firmly planted into the colony’s outer wall. Connor tells me this place is called the Vault, but he doesn’t elaborate.  

As we are ushered in, three guards – a woman and two men – standing proud in their black, Screven uniforms, are ready to start the process. The room is large and the walls are covered with various lockers. Everything in this room seems so clean and new as if it is rarely used, but constantly maintained. 

The female guard is the first to speak. “Each of you must take off all your clothes and gear, and leave them in a locker, then step toward the right. 

I stand frozen. A couple of men take off their shirts, but stop when they notice the others looking at me. There is a long, awkward silence. Surely they don’t expect me to just go with this. 

Connor steps in front of me toward the guard. “Sarah,” he says. He motions around the room. “Come on…”

Sarah stands firm for a moment, looking me up and down until she sighs and rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says. “The rest of you, do as I said.” She looks at me. “Girl, follow me.”

I mouth a thank you to Connor and he nods as I leave the room through a door to the left. Sarah closes the door behind us and then leads me through a long hallway until we reach another room. It is empty save for a metal gurney with a small pillow. 

“You can take off your clothes in here,” Sarah snaps. “Someone will be in here in a moment to give you the full inspe Khe Yction.”

There is something about the way she says
full inspection
that makes me shudder. Sarah turns from me and leaves the room, slamming the door shut.

Before doing as I’m told, I look around the room. It’s odd that there’s nothing in here other than the metal gurney. The floors are white and so are the walls. Lights from the ceiling cast bright florescent beams onto me, and it’s almost blinding. 

Having no idea what to expect in the next few minutes, I do what Sarah has instructed. I unstrap my knife from my thigh and take off my clothes, folding them neatly and setting them in my lap as I sit on the cold metal. Even though there is no one in the room, I can’t help but feel completely exposed. Here I am, naked in some strange room with no idea who will come through that door to examine every inch of my body. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t even want to be here.

 The minutes go by. Minutes turn into an hour at least. I don’t actually have any way of telling the time, but it feels like an hour. The room is too cold to be sitting here without any clothes on. I rub my arms and sides, trying to make the goose bumps go away. They don’t. 

I can’t help but jump when the door flies open and two people in masks burst into the room. They look like doctors. They are wearing protective gloves and every inch of their bodies is covered in a thick material. A closer look at their eyes reveals that one is a woman and one is a man. So much for trying to stay modest.

“Can you lay back on the table please?” the woman asks me. Another person walks in with a rolling tray containing all kinds of things I don’t recognize, and some that I do. Most notably, the syringes and a scalpel.

“Is all this really necessary?” I ask. 

“It is,” the man says. “Now please, lie down.”

The assistant who brought in the tray now walks over to me and takes the clothes from my hands. My only bit of covering. I know I’m turning red, partly from embarrassment, partly anger. I lay my back on the bed and my head on the pillow. Each of the doctors picks up a limb and start studying every area of my body, as if they are looking for something.

“How long have you had this cut?” the male doctor asks. 

“Two nights,” I tell him, staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend that I’m just doing stretching exercises as the female doctor lifts my leg in the air to see the backside. “I fell and cut it on a piece of metal.”

“Healing fairly nicely for a two-day-old cut.”

“Great,” I say. He looks to my eyes with sharp eyebrows to let me know he doesn’t appreciate my sarcastic tone. I turn my head, trying to ignore the doctors, but I notice the assistant just staring at me. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t care. It’s disturbing either way. Finally, I decide to close my eyes as the doctors work their way up my torso and head. 

“Might be a good idea to cut your hair shorter,” the female doctor says.

“That’s what my grandma says.”

They ask me to turn over. 

After a few more minutes, they say I’m clear of any bites or scratches, but they want to take a blood sample to be sure because of the cut on my leg.

“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” I ask. 

The female doctor walks to me and rubs some ointment over my stitched cut. This one burns. 

“It costs too much money to do it for everyone,” she says as the other doctor grabs a small canister from the cabinet to his left. Attached to the canister is a thick syringe that he unclips. He pops off the top, pulls o K totor ut my arm, and sticks the large needle into my vein. He draws the blood slowly and pulls out the needle when he has enough. He grabs the cylindrical canister and unscrews the top to reveal a soft, sponge-like material, stabs the needle into it and fills it with my blood. He then screws the metal cap back on top and smiles at me.

“We only do the blood sample on those that have visible scratches or cuts,” he says. He points to a tiny indicator light at the top of the canister. “Now, we wait. Green you’re clean, red you’re dead.” He smiles at this as if he thinks the little rhyme is clever. 

Does he not know that saying something like that is terrifying? That my life depends on a color?

This is another moment where it feels like an eternity, though I’m sure it’s not even a minute. 

Finally, the indicator light shines out from the edge of the cylinder. Green. I’m clean. 

“Very good,” he says as he drops the cylinder into a trash bag on the outside of the tray. “These cylinders can only be used once. You can see why the costs might add up.” He takes off his gloves and places them in the trash. “Do you have any questions before we let you go?”

“Yeah, can I have my clothes back?”

The doctor lets out a chuckle. “Of course.” He turns to the assistant. “Hannah? Her clothes.”

Hannah.

I sigh as Hannah hands me my garments. 

“You can turn right out this door and follow the hallway whenever you’re ready to leave,” the female doctor says.

Again, I am left alone, only this time I’m free to go. I put my clothes back on and strap my knife to my thigh, finally comfortable. Now I feel like I wouldn’t mind staying in here alone away from everyone. But one look around the room again changes my mind very quickly. 

A loud commotion snaps my attention to the other side of the door. When I open it, I see a naked man running toward me yelling. It’s Bret, the driver.

“I won’t!” he screams out. “You’ve got to check it again!”

That’s when I see Rob and two other guards standing in the other doorway opposite of me. Rob is holding up a rifle and lets off a round. I don’t even understand what is happening before Bret’s blood and brains hit me, and his body slams to the floor, lifeless. 

I look down at the dead man, my mouth open and my legs cemented. I can see a few deep scratches on his shoulder that look infected. 

Rob walks up to the body to take one last good look at him, and then looks up at me. 

“Red. He’s dead.”

CHAPTER SIX

I quickly learn that
green you’re clean, red you’re dead
is a fairly common phrase around the Salem colony. At least, this is what Connor tells me when we get to his shack.

The doctors at the Vault had helped to clean me up and make sure no blood or body fluids were mixed with mine. I’m clean. 

“Bret was a good guy,” Connor tells me. 

“I didn’t know anyone was near enough to get scratched by a greyskin,” I say.

“Kind of hard to tell with all the rocks flying and lightning bolts,” he says, leaning back in his chair in the kitchen. I sit comfortably on the couch where Connor stitched my l N totoockeg two nights ago. All I can think about is Bret. 

“It baffles me,” Connor says. 

“What?”

“The rocks, the lightning. I never knew it was possible, that supernatural stuff. I guess I think Aaron should have told me.”

“Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he learned of his ability when he was out there, stuck in the woods.”

“Maybe,” Connor says. He sets his seat on all fours, leans forward and brushes his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe Bret’s gone. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

I wish I could think about something else. My mind drifts to the moment when the doctor put my blood into the cylinder. Fear had gripped me even though I was sure that I had never been touched by a greyskin. I can’t imagine how I would have felt if the light had turned red instead of green. Would I have run away too? Would it be my brains that splattered on someone else?

“I haven’t been able to talk to Aaron alone,” Connor says. “He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

I stand, not sure where I’m going. It’s still early morning, so I don’t expect any answer from Krindle about my village anytime soon. I walk to the window and pull back the curtain only to see Evelyn sitting at the booth in front of her shack.

Only a day ago she had made me breakfast and suddenly turned cold at the end. I can’t help but wonder what it was that made her feel that way. 

“Do you know Evelyn?” I ask Connor.

“Now that’s a strange old bird if there ever was one,” he says as he walks to the window to stand next to me. His shoulder brushes against mine. The subtle scent of sweat actually smells good to me.

“Why do you say that?” I ask, trying to concentrate on what he’s saying and not on the flood of thoughts rushing through my head.

“She and Aaron have spent a lot of time together since our parents were killed,” he says. “I’ve never liked it.”

As we stare out the window, I almost slap the curtain closed when Evelyn turns her head to see us watching her, but I keep my hands firm and my gaze steady. She already knows that I’m looking at her, why try to hide it now? My eyes finally drift away but I’m certain her eyes haven’t moved. 

“This is weird,” Connor says. 

Evelyn looks to her left and then her right, seemingly to make sure no one else is near, and she stands. At first I think she’s going to walk down the road away from us, but this isn’t what happens. She marches in a direct line toward Connor’s shack. 

“Uh, why is she coming here?” Connor asks. 

I have no answer for him, but I know she’s coming to see me, though I don’t know why. Connor doesn’t wait for her to come knocking at the door, instead he opens it and gives a short wave. 

“Can I help you, Evelyn?”

I stand in the doorway behind Connor, but in full view from the outside. Evelyn looks at me and smiles. 

“Just wondering if young Miss Mora would be interested in helping me with something.”

Connor looks back at me with a concerned look etched across his face. I smile at him and nod. “I’d be happy to help you,” I say as I pass through the doorway. “I’ll be back soon,” I tell Connor. 

Connor doesn’t say anything to this but only looks confused. He closes the door behind me, but when I look back, he’s still watching from the window. 

Evelyn and I walk at a steady pace toward the booth in front of her shack. 

“He fancies you,” Evelyn says. S saEvel 

I’m not expecting her to say this and my head jerks toward her sharply. “What makes you say that?” I ask. 

“Out of all the women that fall head over heels for him, not a one of them have seen the inside of his shack,” she says. “He’s never taken an interest to the girls around here for some reason. I can see it in the way he treats you and how he looks at you.” 

I honestly haven’t noticed any kind of romantic passes from him. He has gone out of his way to help me, for sure, but I haven’t interpreted it as anything but courtesy from a stranger. 

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I mean, he’s handsome and all, but I’m not here to pursue romance.”

Evelyn smiles. “Those who pursue romance rarely find it. Those who try to run from it often find themselves blindsided by it.”

“So, what do you need help with?” I ask, changing the subject. 

We walk up to her booth where there are several baskets of vegetables and she picks one up and hands it to me. She then takes one for herself.