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Authors: Carol Lynch Williams
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room, I crawled in bed, turning my back to her when Abigail got into her own bed and whispered over to me, “Sorry.”
HAVEN
HOSPITAL&HALLS
Where You Matter
Established 2020
Note to all Staff
Please Watch For:
Change in food consumption
Students being too sleepy or too alert
Sudden mood changes
Laughter
Uncommon sickness (i.e., headache, diarrhea, sweating, shakiness)
Any and all of these (and similar) behaviors MUST be reported to school officials immediately.
9
I couldn’t sleep.
Maybe it was because the night music had stopped or because I flushed the evening Tonic or because I was nervous I would miss the twelve thirty rendezvous. After Brahms ended, the bedroom filled with the sounds of sleeping.
Those nighttime sighs, the late hour, and going to bed at 10:00 P.M. made my eyes heavy. Maybe this one time I would sleep without wanting to, instead of lying awake.
The clock over the fireplace mantel called out the half hour. It had never seemed so loud. Now the tock seemed to boom. How did I not notice it? Or sleep through it? There was the rush of a spring wind blowing around the building, whistling in at what must be a small crack in the window. There was the settling of the beds when someone rolled over and the soft footsteps of Ms. Iverson, who checked rooms before she headed to her own room. Funny how I had never heard her walking on the wooden hall floors before tonight.
And then there were the voices of men, talking about cleaning.
A cleaning crew. I had a vague recollection of a group of individuals (were they Terminal or Whole? I didn’t know) who I sort of heard other late nights.
I blinked, eyes hot.
Keep awake.
Did this group do the laundry, too?
I flopped over and stared at the ceiling.
Sleep, my mind told me. You need your rest. Disobedience equals death.
I couldn’t believe I would run the risk of Isolation—and all for Abigail.
I was sure Gideon had beguiled her. Like Jim Jones had deceived the residents of Jonestown and convinced them to commit suicide. Or how the People had turned against the innocent during the Terminal Massacres.
Tonight I would break the rules and convince Abigail not to follow Gideon. I would convince them both.
The clock donging twelve times jarred me awake. I sat, sick to my stomach. I had slept and not meant to.
After throwing off the covers, I moved on tiptoe from my bed. To the dresser. Put on sweats. Sweatshirt. A rubber band to pull my hair back. Socks. No shoes.
I went to the window.
What was left of the snow glowed. But there was no one out there. I mean, Gideon wasn’t out there. The night was still.
Sneaking to the door, I peered down the hall. The clock said it was 12:10. 12:10! Still another twenty minutes to wait. No wonder Abigail was late for breakfast this morning. She’d been exhausted.
I walked back to my bed and sat down. Closed my eyes. Opened them. Hummed. Recited the Pledge three times. “We are one. All colors make up who we are. We are the same. The Terminal. We help the Whole. We benefit the World. We will make a difference.”
We will make a difference.
Like Gideon said.
I propped myself in the sitting position and leaned against the headboard. I would close my eyes to the count of three. It wouldn’t hurt.
Not even five minutes later Gideon spoke. “Shiloh. You’re late.”
I awoke. Gideon stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette.
“Are you meeting with me and Abigail or not? We’ve been waiting for you. Every second out in view puts us at risk.”
“I’m coming,” I said. I’d show him. Tell them both how I felt.
“Hurry,” Gideon said. He pressed his finger to his lips. Motioned with his head and said, “People are working. Ms. Iverson is up with the cleaning crew.” Then he was gone, slipping away like a ghost.
“Gideon.” I kept my voice soft. The sound caught in the walls, in the curtains, in other Terminals’ sleeping quarters. I hurried along faster than normal. My sweatshirt made me
HAVEN
HOSPITAL&HALLS
Where You Matter
Established 2020
Note to all Staff
Please Watch For:
Change in food consumption
Students being too sleepy or too alert
Sudden mood changes
Laughter
Uncommon sickness (i.e., headache, diarrhea, sweating, shakiness)
Any and all of these (and similar) behaviors MUST be reported to school officials immediately.
9
I couldn’t sleep.
Maybe it was because the night music had stopped or because I flushed the evening Tonic or because I was nervous I would miss the twelve thirty rendezvous. After Brahms ended, the bedroom filled with the sounds of sleeping.
Those nighttime sighs, the late hour, and going to bed at 10:00 P.M. made my eyes heavy. Maybe this one time I would sleep without wanting to, instead of lying awake.
The clock over the fireplace mantel called out the half hour. It had never seemed so loud. Now the tock seemed to boom. How did I not notice it? Or sleep through it? There was the rush of a spring wind blowing around the building, whistling in at what must be a small crack in the window. There was the settling of the beds when someone rolled over and the soft footsteps of Ms. Iverson, who checked rooms before she headed to her own room. Funny how I had never heard her walking on the wooden hall floors before tonight.
And then there were the voices of men, talking about cleaning.
A cleaning crew. I had a vague recollection of a group of individuals (were they Terminal or Whole? I didn’t know) who I sort of heard other late nights.
I blinked, eyes hot.
Keep awake.
Did this group do the laundry, too?
I flopped over and stared at the ceiling.
Sleep, my mind told me. You need your rest. Disobedience equals death.
I couldn’t believe I would run the risk of Isolation—and all for Abigail.
I was sure Gideon had beguiled her. Like Jim Jones had deceived the residents of Jonestown and convinced them to commit suicide. Or how the People had turned against the innocent during the Terminal Massacres.
Tonight I would break the rules and convince Abigail not to follow Gideon. I would convince them both.
The clock donging twelve times jarred me awake. I sat, sick to my stomach. I had slept and not meant to.
After throwing off the covers, I moved on tiptoe from my bed. To the dresser. Put on sweats. Sweatshirt. A rubber band to pull my hair back. Socks. No shoes.
I went to the window.
What was left of the snow glowed. But there was no one out there. I mean, Gideon wasn’t out there. The night was still.
Sneaking to the door, I peered down the hall. The clock said it was 12:10. 12:10! Still another twenty minutes to wait. No wonder Abigail was late for breakfast this morning. She’d been exhausted.
I walked back to my bed and sat down. Closed my eyes. Opened them. Hummed. Recited the Pledge three times. “We are one. All colors make up who we are. We are the same. The Terminal. We help the Whole. We benefit the World. We will make a difference.”
We will make a difference.
Like Gideon said.
I propped myself in the sitting position and leaned against the headboard. I would close my eyes to the count of three. It wouldn’t hurt.
Not even five minutes later Gideon spoke. “Shiloh. You’re late.”
I awoke. Gideon stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette.
“Are you meeting with me and Abigail or not? We’ve been waiting for you. Every second out in view puts us at risk.”
“I’m coming,” I said. I’d show him. Tell them both how I felt.
“Hurry,” Gideon said. He pressed his finger to his lips. Motioned with his head and said, “People are working. Ms. Iverson is up with the cleaning crew.” Then he was gone, slipping away like a ghost.
“Gideon.” I kept my voice soft. The sound caught in the walls, in the curtains, in other Terminals’ sleeping quarters. I hurried along faster than normal. My sweatshirt made me
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