Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next morning, Sam arrives at the infirmary to pick me up for class.  I don’t say anything to him as we head across the quad to our lesson.  Part of it is my body is so tried I am hardly functioning.  Most of that is my own fault. I didn’t slept all night because I was trying to see if the medicine would ever wear off and allow me access to my element.  It had been pointless of course.  It is like a wall is between me and air.  No matter how hard I try to beat it down, it stands strong and firm. 

The other reason we are quiet is because of our previous encounter.  The memory Sam showed me made me uncertain.  Had we done that to his mom?  Had we hurt her?  And if we had, why?  I’ve always thought we were above the Authority—better than them.  What Sam showed me scared me a little.  The more I think about it though, the more I question the memory.  Had it been real?  The emotion was strong.  I’d been in tears for hours after.  That doesn’t mean he didn’t conjure it up.  Can we do that?  Lie to each other through our touch bond?  Of course, even if it is true, it doesn’t mean it was The Truth.  She could have been confused, or lying.  Or maybe she did something that caused my people to retaliate.  Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as Sam had made her out to be. 

My confusion over the whole thing leaves me deep in groggy thought as we slip into the classroom and take seats side by side. 

“Delilah!”

I look up to see Sam staring at me exacerbated.  His eyes are wide as they trace over my face, looking for something.  For what, I’m not sure.

“Huh?”

“I called your name like twenty times.  You were completely zoned out.”

“Oh.”  I don’t know what else to say.  What does he expect?  The shot is staring to kick in full swing now and the haze settled over me as I thought about Mason and his memory.  It is so hard to focus under its influence.

“You okay?”

“Don’t be nice to me,” I shake my head.  I can’t take his kindness.  Not because I don’t deserve it, I just don’t want it.  I want him to be a jerk.  I want to hate him.  Him being nice makes everything I need to do that much harder. 

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

“Afraid you’ll realize you’re wrong about us?” Sam challenges.

“More like I’m afraid I’m going to punch you in your fake nice face.”  It isn’t exactly a stellar comeback, but I don’t have a lot of mental capacity to work with.

“I dare you to try.”  Then he smiles.  I really do think about punching him.  I try to ball my hand up into a fist, but my arms feel like rubber.  A fight is not going to happen right now.

“Sure.  I’ll take you on while I’m drugged up on tryptophan or whatever the hell this stuff is.  That seems like a fair fight.”

“Tryptophan is what’s in a turkey.  What you are on is an inhibitor.  It’s gonna make things tough at first, but we’ll get through it.  The effects will lessen the more you use it.”

The effect will lessen the more I use it? I want to cry.  How long is this farce going to continue?  Do they really think it will work?  Do they really believe I will just fall all over myself to be like them?  That I will forsake my family and everything they stand for?  They have to be insane!

“Whatever.”

“Listen, I just want to say, I’m sorry for shoving that memory at you.  That wasn’t fair.  It was emotional and—“

“Forget it.  It was probably fake anyway. I told you, we don’t just kill for no reason and we definitely don’t torture people.  I don’t buy it.”

Sam stares at me for a long moment.  Subtly he shakes his head and faces forward.  More students are coming into the classroom and when they noticed him sitting there he suddenly had a throng of people around him.  I guess it’s a big deal if Mr. Quarterback switches into your American Lit class. 

We get through the day, but just barely.  By the end of the afternoon, I can hardly walk.  I keep trying to stay focused.  One foot in front of the other.  One foot…

“Whoa there,” Sam says, grabbing me by the waist to keep me from falling.  His voice sounds so far off.  Almost like we are underwater.

“Let go.”

“You almost fell.”

“Then let me fall!”

He does.  I fall flat on my ass and don’t move for a second. 

Sam crouches next to me.  “It’s been a long day,” he says quietly.  “I’m sorry, Delilah.”

I want to say something mean to him, but I can’t muster up the strength.  He wraps his arm around my torso again and helps me back to me feet.  I let my weight rest against him as we start to move again.  When we get to the infirmary, Sam hands me off to the guard.  I feel my limbs go limp and am humiliated at the fact that the guard has to pick me up and carry me inside.

“It’s too strong,” he calls to the guard.

“She’s too strong,” the guard counters.

The discussion ends there.

That night, I sleep from three in the afternoon, until when my alarm goes off the next morning.  My dinner sits cold and congealed on a tray next to my bed.  I had been too out of it to even eat. 

The nurse arrives a few minutes after I wake and quickly gives me my injection.  I start to protest, but it happens so fast I don’t have a chance.  Not that she would have listened.  She is gone without so much as a good morning, I’m gonna stick you with a needle! I hate this place.

I get dressed and try to eat something when the breakfast arrives.  Around eight Sam shows up to escort me to my classes again.  I can walk today, but my mind is a haze still. 

“How do they expect you to learn anything like this?” he asks. 

I blink.  That wasn’t the first thing he said, I realize.  Whatever had been before it was lost to me now.  I can only shrug in response.  His voice keeps going, but I’m not hearing it.  We make it to our first class before anyone else.  I put my head down and close my eyes.

“All night ragger, Dee?” Sandy asked as she comes into the class.

Her voice jars me out of my sort of nap.  I sit up.  “Something like that.”  My throat is dry and scratchy.  I sound sick or hungover.

“I haven’t seen you in days! How’s your grandpa?”

Sam gives me a warning look.  So I guess that means the student body doesn’t know about me.  Should I say something?  Maybe word of mouth would be a message to my mom?  Or maybe the student population would rise up and lynch me despite Professor Ander’s protest. 

In the end, I decide to give her a quick he’s fine and leave it at that.  Let Sam and Professor Anders come up with the excuses. 

Putting my head on my desk, I close my eyes and sleep through class.

I sleep through every class.  I don’t care what the professors have to say. I am just so damn tired.  The injection makes me feel even worse than I did yesterday.  The moment I walk into any class, I lay my head on my desk and don’t lift it up until Sam is shaking my shoulders to move onto the next one. 

The only teacher who cares is hard ass Miss Heather.  She is the economics professor. 

“Miss Valois, you will stay awake during my class,” she says as she slaps a ruler on my desk.  I jolt up.  How very Catholic school of her.

“Sorry,” I mumble, unable to produce a witty retort.

“I don’t care whose daughter you are.  You will not sleep through my lecture.”  Her voice is so low only a few students can probably hear.  While my neighbors probably think I have some rich parents the message is loud and clear to me.  The students may be unaware of who I am, but the teachers are under no such false pretenses.

Sam shoots our teacher a warning look, but Miss Heath ignores him and continues class.  I lean back in my chair and try not to fall asleep.  It proves an impossible task.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Sam says as he wakes me up.  I shift in my chair and stand.  I can hardly walk.  This is ridiculous.  Before I even attempt to stumble forward, Sam sweeps me up into his arms.  I don’t have the energy to protest.  I try to think of Jason as Sam holds me close to his body.  Jason, my boyfriend.  You know, the man I love.  But through the fog and haze, all I can focus on is the man who holds me in his arms and just how nice it feels to be held.

This isn’t good.

#

“The dosage is too high,” Professor Anders says, distraught.  “But I don’t dare risk lowering it.  If Delilah has access to her abilities then she could get free.”

“She’s a zombie,” Sam argues.  “What’s the point of this if she just zones out all day long?”

“Her body will adjust to the dosage,” Chancellor Maynard contends, unperturbed that I am passed out on the couch behind then at three in the afternoon.  Well, pretty much passed out.  I think I am drooling on myself, which is so gross.  Despite my level of sedation, I can still hear everything that is going on.

“What do we hope to accomplish if she can’t function?” Sam asks.

“Nothing will be accomplished with that child.  She is hopeless.  We should hang her up as an example to Abusers everywhere who think they can infiltrate us.”  The chancellor is thirsting to see me swing.  I am just as greedy to have his head on a pike myself, but we don’t always get what we want, especially when Professor Anders is around.

“Stop being absurd,” Anders growls.  She sounds downright feral which is new to me.  “The Council agreed, we should give Delilah a chance.  In time she will see all the lies her mother told her.  We must be more aggressive about it though.  Let her see what is really happening all around us.”

“She can’t do anything comatose.”  Sam again.  I don’t understand why he is even in this meeting with the big kids.  I was never allowed near the meetings my mother held.  I also can’t figure out why he cares so much if I’m Zombie Delilah or not.  I tried to kill him.  I hate everything he stands for.  Connection aside, he should hate me as much as I hated him.  Hate him.  As much as I hate him.  Present tense.

“You’re right, Mr. Mason.  I will have the dosage reworked.  Delilah is strong though.  Stronger than any air user I’ve come into contact with.  If we get this wrong, it could be deadly.”

#

I spend the next three days in lock up, so to speak.  My injections come in the morning like usual, but that is the only thing that is ordinary.  On day one’s injection, I feel air for the first time in days.  It was like breathing again after being under water too long.  I was alive with the rush it gave me. I hadn’t had enough access to the element to cause much damage, but it had put Anders into a frenzy. I was knocked out before I could say overreaction, much? 

The following day my new dosage was back to being high.  I could hardly function.  My morning was a haze and by afternoon I was out like a light. 

By day three they were pretty sure they’d gotten it.  No more access to air, but the sleepiness wasn’t as bad.  It was like being on heavy cough syrup. You could feel drowsiness tug at you, but it wasn’t so bad you couldn’t fight it.  It would have to do.   That was what Anders said anyway.  I still spent the day in isolation, but it was nice to have my brain up and functioning again.

It was day four and Sam came to collect me for classes.  I had missed the weekend and one day of classes, so my arrival was greeted with some enthusiasm from my classmates.  Apparently there had been a story going around that I had pneumonia.  It explained the absence and my passing out in class.  Whatever.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Sandy says as she takes a seat near me in American Literature.  “Wish you would have told me you were getting a single though!  Not that I mind, I could use the extra space, I was just shocked when all your things were gone.”

I give her an apologetic smile, not sure what else to say.  Sam watches me like a freaking hawk, hoping I don’t out myself.  I have no want or need to tell these idiots who I am though so Sam should chill.  At best I would forever have their disdain.  Worst?  They’d find a way to string me up before my mother could break me out of here.  No, I’m cool with the cover story…for now anyway.

Speaking of which.  Now that I can think again, I need to start forming a plan.