Slated

Chapter 29

I want to run.

Waves of panic rise up, inside; increasing the closer we get to the hospital. The traffic isn't so bad, today; Mum is trying a different way. She said it is further to drive but might be quicker. In, out; in, out: I concentrate on breathing, and the roads. Memorising the grid, laying it out in my mind to distract myself from thinking about Dr Lysander.

She sees all. If I don't volunteer something of interest, she will probe until she finds a scab I'd rather wasn't picked. But today it isn't just my concerns I need to protect, but more: Mac. Ben. Lucy, too: me/Lucy a separate being inside I want to shelter from inquisition, but she is here. A shadow, a ghost; following along next to me, matching my steps.

Soon we're approaching from the other side, new to my eyes but the hospital looks much the same: high fences. Guard towers at regular intervals. I automatically chart the dimensions, the numbers. The exits, and gates. A delivery van is waved through one as we pass; we carry on around the perimeter to the same gate we've used before.

We wait in a queue; they are looking under cars with mirrors, having everyone get out and scanned while cars are searched.

"There must be an alert," Mum says, and I jump. She's been silent most of the way today, leaving my thoughts to fester as they will. I study her: there are shadows under her eyes. She looks tired, and drawn. The phone rang last night I remember now. Very late but I'd been awake; heard her steps above me, the murmur of her voice.

"Is everything all right?" I ask.

She half smiles. "I should be asking you that, shouldn't I?"

We move up another space as a car ahead gets through: two more to go.

"I asked first," I say.

"You did. But this isn't the place to discuss it. On the way home, all right?"

Another space forward. So something is wrong, and she is going to tell me about it, but in front of Lorders isn't the place.

"Don't tell me any secrets," I say in a rush. "I'm not sure I can keep them."

She laughs. "I'll keep that in mind."

Forward, again. We're not waved through this time; now it is our turn. There is a swarm of Lorders about, more than I've seen in one place before. In black for operations, not grey suits; with vests, and weapons. Tense. Not that they ever look relaxed exactly, but today, tension radiates off them.

We get out of the car and are scanned, head to toe, while a few others quickly go over the car. Again I can't help my reaction, the fear that floods through me with their proximity. But they don't seem to notice. We get pushed back into the car and are through.

"What is all that about?" I ask.

"Don't worry, Kyla. There is probably some concern about an attack, but they'll handle things. They always do."

I study her face. The way she said that didn't sound right. Like Lorders always handling things isn't good, but something else, entirely.

Imagination, Kyla. Get a grip.

"Come!" Dr Lysander calls out. Her voice is familiar, clear without being loud. She doesn't have to raise it: she is used to being obeyed without question.

As usual mine is the only occupied seat in her waiting area, with Mum off for tea with a nurse she knows. I stand and go through the door, glad to escape: two Lorders are standing in the hall.

"Good morning, Kyla," she says. Dr Lysander, unlike Mum and the Lorders – me too, for that matter – looks unruffled. Calm. Her usual self as she always is, and always will be. Her dark eyes are analytical, but not unkind; she is detached, yet in the moment.