He hands her the protein bar, and she shoves it into her mouth. Her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk as she chews.
“We haven’t had anything to eat for two days,” he says. His hands go to his stomach, and he rubs it as his eyes fall to the floor. He kicks dirt around with his bare feet.
My eyes water, but I blink back the tears. How many more children are starving in the Hole? Then the little girl grabs her brother, and he hands her the last protein bar. As she stretches out, her torn sleeve slides up her thin, pale arm.
My heart breaks into pieces when I see the perfect, dark circle marking her. My chest tightens, and my hands ball into fists. Oh my God. She’s younger than Alyssa.
“When did you get that?” I blurt. I point at her arm, and she retracts it as quickly as she extended it. Her eyes flash a warning, and her brother puts his arm around her protectively.
“Lexi,” Cole says. I fight the urge to wrap her in my arms as Cole pulls me back. He gives me a warning look.
She can’t be saved.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I … ”
The boy squints. He examines me for a minute and then drops his arm from around his sister.
“She got that vaccine thing this morning,” he says. “At least she won’t get sick.”
I want to die when he says those words. Because that’s what they told Amber. Part of me wants to scream out loud. I do my best to mask my emotions, but my facial muscles twitch as I try to keep from crying.
Oh my God, please let us get these records out … He’s still killing children.
“It’s time,” Bill says.
The boy pulls his sister’s hand, their faces instantly turning grim and serious. Dahlia coughs, and I see her cringe.
I know what she’s about to go through, and I fight the images of her screaming in pain like Amber.
“Take your sister and go straight home; it’s not safe out here,” Bruno says. His voice cracks a little. He bends down with all his equipment on. “Be brave, okay? And don’t tell anyone what happened here. It’s our little secret.”
The boy nods. “Okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
Outside, someone calls their names. The boy flips his head to the side, his shaggy hair lying across his forehead, then he runs down the street, holding Dahlia’s hand. She looks back once, and we catch eyes, but then I tear mine away. I can’t breathe. My heart can’t take much more; soon, it’s going to combust.
Bruno helps Grace get up, and I see tears in her eyes. She wipes her hands on her pants and gives me a weak smile. I can only guess what she’s thinking. These could be her children. This could be their future, if we don’t stop it.
“Come,” Bill says. He runs his hand through his wild hair.
I’m thankful for the interruption because I don’t want to go to pieces right here. It’s time to focus on finding the medical records.
Bill steps out of the building, checks around, and runs down the street, stopping and waiting for the rest of us to catch up. My equipment feels like a load of boulders on my back, and I lean to compensate for the weight. The dark silhouette of the hospital grows closer with each step. Dahlia’s small face flashes before me, but I put her in a tiny compartment of my brain and push it away for now.
I concentrate on steadying my breathing and staying alert. The faint fingertips of the sun stretch over the horizon, and things become clearer with the pink of early morning. I see the dilapidated structures people live in, the cement and faded fabric decoupage that makes up so much of the Hole. The gray buildings, dirt streets, and the abandoned and burned-out cars along the road remind me of the people who still live here. Most of the cars have blown-out windows, missing rims, and black, bare-tread tires with scuff marks.
It’s not long before the siren wails loud and clear. I look up, staring into the sky, and see birds sitting on the loudspeakers mounted on the walls of the buildings. They don’t bother moving. In fact, they fight over spots to perch. Probably looking for fresh pickings after last night’s fights.
Four blocks from the hospital, Bill leads us into a tiny, one-room shack. He scans it and then says, “Clear.”
My shoulders throb, and every muscle in my back aches. Following his cue, I pull off my backpack and relax my shoulders. He puts a finger over his mouth and sits down.
As we settle down, our knees and legs bump into each other, and our equipment bangs together. I pray no one hears it. Then Zeus sits in my lap, completely obstructing my view of everyone else. I groan as his paws dig into my thighs. His head sits way above mine; he’s so darn big.
“We wait here,” Bill says. “Tonight, we’ll enter the hospital.”
“How do you know someone doesn’t live here?” Bruno asks.