Vial #127

Chapter 29: Breaking of the Night

The order in the man's voice startles me from my near sleep, causing me to violently and instinctively reach for my gun, but it's not there. "Ma'am, it's all right, I'm just going to have to have you come with me," his tone goes softer.

I turn to Jamie; he's lying on his side, facing me. Through the lighting, I catch a glimpse of his glassy eyes, wide with fear. I mouth to him, "It'll be okay," then get up with the escort.

The officer walks carefully between the beds with kind caution of not waking anyone. He leads me down a hallway. There are various doors on the walls, some with numbers on them, others with names, some with labels. He abruptly stops at a door labeled: Supply Closet #14.

"Are you sure that this is the correct door?" I issue a hand towards the label.

"I'm sure," his tone is annoyed I have asked.

The fear inside of me comes alive like a pouncing lion. What was he going to do with me in there? I take a tiny step backwards, allowing myself a clean get away when he opens the door.

Inside, there aren't any shelves of cleaners nor any mops; no napkins, no toilet paper. Instead it leads to yet another door marked with a key code lock. The officer enters in a four digit combination and the door squeaks open. He takes the lead again, always turning his head to make sure that I follow. Eventually we end up at another doorway. This time the lock needs a number combination and a fingerprint. When the door swings open, like a massive bank vault, I catch a glimpse of what is inside. The floors are tiled white and the walls painted a dull grey. In the middle of the room is a steel table with a chair on either side.

"Please sit down," I follow the order in fear that not obeying will not do me any good. He comes closer, taking my wrist and fastening a hand cuff to the heavy bandaged arm.

"That is not necessary," a clear voice sounds out through the interrogation room. I look towards the door she came through. This must be Eleanor. Her feet are wedged in a wobbly looking pair of black heels, while her body is encased in a business like blue-grey dress.

"Nice to meet you Emma," she introduces herself while taking a seat across from me. Her hair is a deep orange and falls flawlessly in a straight line to frame her face.

"The same to you, I think..." I maintain my composure as the conversation goes on.

"I am so glad that you found us. I know so many lives have been lost outside and now we haven't had an incident in over three months." She looks up at me, the stare somewhat urges me to reply.

"Well, we am grateful for a bed, food and water, and a warm shower." She smiles as I remind her of her life saving offerings we have received.

"I'm so glad your brother came out tonight; I'm sure the others will arrive shortly. Sometimes the monitoring takes hours but sometimes up to five days; so don't worry if you haven't seen the others yet. We just want to make sure that this place stays safe." Her poise is impressive. Her voice smooth is like driving on a newly made road.

I want to scream at her so badly that all of my friends are safe, that they won't hurt anybody, but I hold it all in, knowing that an outburst will damage any relationship she thinks we've made.

"I just wanted to talk to you about one thing," she reaches into her bag, "This," she holds up the missing vial from my case. "I was told that this was for your allergies but I don't think that is correct."

I nod my head; honesty will be my only bet to get out of this situation.

"What is it?" she asks, her voice losing its calm, expecting me to clarify on my own. She puts the vial down, nearly slamming the glass against the table and crushing it.

"It's a cure," I manage to get out quietly. "What?" her voice is confused.
"A cure, you heard me right," her eyes go

wide in astonishment. She obviously was not expecting my answer.

"How?" Eleanor looks up at me after eyeing the vial. All of the secrets are locked away and my voice is the key.

"I don't really understand all of the scientific data," I begin truthfully again, "but I do know that if you've been bit, and you are injected within two hours, you come back. I have a journal that was given to me by the inventor; it has really complex formulas that I am still trying to piece together. Maybe you have somebody who would be able to help me."

Instead of offering assistance, she continues with, "the inventor, is that someone here, in the cells? Where are they?" Her tone is desperate, needing only one thing, answers.

"He didn't make it," I look down, remembering the horrible day of Darryl's death.

"What do you mean?" she asks confused, "you had a cure, why didn't you save him?" She spits at me like a rabid animal.

"It was too late, I couldn't save Darryl," a tear rolls down my face, and Eleanor goes quiet, realizing that she took the questioning too far.

"I am sorry," her eyes look sincere, like those of a mother who has yelled at her child. "I'm sure I can find someone to go through the notebook with you," she now offers.

I nod my head, knowing that if I try to speak, my voice will be too wobbly to understand.

"Why don't you go get some rest and we can work on this in the morning?" she offers, kindness returning to her voice.

All I can do is nod, turn for the door and wait for it to be unlocked. Going back down the hallway, everything seems dark, filled with shadows, like someone had gone back to touch- up an artwork. Creeping down the hallway, I turn corners quietly like a mouse. When I come into sight of my bed, I immediately feel better; the familiarity of the scene lets my heart rate return to normal.

As I lay in the bed, trying yet again to fall asleep, my breathing goes even and I begin to drift away into the rest I so desperately need.