I walk to the paneless opening. The Lost City shines under the gas lanterns’ luminescence. Clusters of boys gather, laughing and chasing one another in a friendly game of tag. Another group kicks a football around. It is then that I see it, the one thing that identifies the sick from the healthy.
“The gloves,” I say. At least a third of the boys wear one glove; some wear two.
Doc smiles. “The Immune is quite perceptive.”
For the first time, the nickname strikes me as almost a compliment. I may have failed as a sister, breaking promises to never grow up, and I may have failed as a guardian, but this new identity—this is something I can only fail by refusing to help.
Pete scans the crowd of boys. “There’s so many. How come I never noticed?”
“Perhaps intelligence is also a trait of being an Immune,” Doc says, smugly.
Pete whirls and grabs Doc’s shirt, pulling him close to his face. “I am the leader of the Lost City. Why didn’t you tell me that the boys were suffering, too? First my sister. Now this family? You continue to let the people I care about die!”
“You know that wasn’t my fault. Gabrielle was beyond my help,” Doc says. “I loved her and did everything I could to save her. Everything!”
“Stop it!” I yell. I try to pull Pete off Doc, but he refuses to release his grip.
“You should have told me about the Lost Boys!” Pete says with a sneer.
“I tried. You wouldn’t listen to me. You’re so blinded with bitterness about what happened to your sister, you wouldn’t have seen their decaying bodies even if I’d pointed them out to you,” Doc spits.
“I ought to dismember you, wrap your body parts in a rubbish bag, and personally deliver you on Hook’s doorstep to feed to his pet crocodiles,” Pete says, his voice seething with fury.
“Enough!” I shout. “Can you two knock it off for just a minute so we can figure out what to do?”
Pete loosens his grip on Doc and gives him a shove. Doc straightens his shirt and waistcoat, not taking his glowering eyes off Pete. I stand in between the boys, hoping they don’t resort to throwing punches.
“Do you really think everyone could die?” I ask.
“Yes, everyone but you,” Doc says. “That’s where this virus appears to be heading.”
“If I am the only Immune, then my antibodies could potentially help not only Bella but all of the Lost Boys.”
“That is correct,” Doc says with a nod. “At least that’s my theory.”
“Let’s get on with it, then,” I say with a sigh. Removing a stack of books from a cot, I rest my head on the pillow. “Take as much as you need. How much is that? A pint?” I ask, trying my best to be brave, but the quiver in my voice betrays me. I close my eyes tight.
“A pint is hardly anything, but that amount won’t be necessary,” Doc says, digging through his medicine bag. “I won’t be taking much of your blood. Right now Bella is the worst of the sick. She will be the one receiving treatment. If the treatment proves successful, we will take care of the others. For now, we need to test you to see if you do carry the antibodies to cure the virus.”
Doc rummages through his medicine bag again, turning from us, but I see the tightness in his jaw. “Besides, you will need your strength to travel to Everland. No sense in draining all of your blood and weakening you right before your journey, especially when we have no idea if you even carry the cure. Since I will be joining you, we will need only a small sample. Just enough to start Bella’s treatment. If we need more, we’ll deal with it later.”
“I’ve already told you that you’re not coming with us,” Pete growls.
“Is that so?” Doc says. “So tell me this, who will be giving Bella her injections? Certainly not you? While I think it’s fantastic you’ve so generously offered your own antibodies to help Bella up until this point, let me remind you, fearless leader, you faint at the sight of needles.” Doc pulls out a long needle from his bag. My heart quickens and I feel a little dizzy. I have never seen a needle so large.
“Now, I’m guessing you have some things to do before venturing into Everland?” Doc says with a wide smirk.
Pete’s face turns pale and he averts his gaze. “I have to check on Blade and Stock to see if they’ve got our stuff together anyway.” He turns to me; his hardened expression fades. “Thank you, Gwen. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
He faces Doc. “Make it quick. We’re leaving before sunset.” Pete marches to the door and slams it behind him, rattling the glass jars lined on the shelves.
“I thought you said you didn’t need much blood,” I say, eyeing the large needle.
Doc snickers as he puts the needle back in his bag. “Don’t worry. This needle is not for you. I took it out to spook Pete. Gets him every time. One of the Scavengers brought this needle back from a farm thinking I could use it. It is a horse’s needle, but I like to keep it as a souvenir. Also, it keeps blokes like him out of my hair.”
Relieved, my shoulders relax and I melt into the cot, suddenly exhausted.