Read Online Viral Nation by Shaunta Grimes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shaunta Grimes
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door start at eighteen and count down to one, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Finally, one of the sets of double doors opened and a tall man in navy blue pinstriped slacks and a white button-up shirt stepped out.
Langston Bennett was about the same age as Clover’s father. Maybe forty, then. His hair was dark on top, going gray on the sides, and cut very short. His most distinctive feature, though, was a series of deep virus scars on either side of his face. Much worse than West’s, or any others that Clover had seen. She couldn’t imagine the kind of sores that left scars like that.
His eyes drifted to her stained dress, but he didn’t say anything about it. “You must be Miss Donovan.”
His voice ricocheted down the cold, marble hallway. Clover took a step back from it. Mango picked up on her anxiety and pressed against her legs. The pressure helped. The man came toward her and Clover forced a breath through her nose.
“Miss Donovan?” He reached for her, and she stepped back again.
“Yes,” she said. This had to be Langston Bennett. And he was looking at her like she was crazy. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett.”
His tight posture relaxed when she said his name. Her brain insisted that she step closer and offer to shake his hand, but her body would not obey. He closed the gap instead and put a hand on her shoulder, to turn her toward the elevator. She barely held back the instinct to yank away from him.
“Right this way,” he said, sweeping his other hand toward the open elevator door.
Clover exhaled slowly through her nose and peered through the open doors. So, an elevator was a box swinging by cables over dead air. So what? She could do this.
“How high are we going?” she asked, after Bennett was in the elevator, while she still stood outside it.
Bennett put a hand out to stop the door from closing and leaving her behind. “What’s that?”
“Which floor is your office on?”
“The eighteenth floor,” Bennett said. “You can see the whole city from my window. Even beyond the wall.”
Eighteen floors. At twelve feet a floor, that was more than two hundred feet above ground level. She stepped into the box.
The elevator wasn’t as bad as she was afraid it would be. The car was big enough to hold fifteen or twenty people. The walls were mirrored, even on the backs of the doors. Dozens of Clovers in yellow dresses with gory red stains and Langston Bennetts in pinstripes stood in infinite rows, riding more than two hundred feet up a narrow shaft, pulled by cables.
What were the chances that the virus had spared someone properly trained to maintain the intricate system of pulleys and brakes that kept them from plummeting to their deaths?
The red digital numbers above the panel of buttons registered each floor. It took less than a minute to reach eighteen. And then the door opened again and it was over. Mango walked beside her as she followed Bennett into a long, silent hallway.
She’d never been higher up than the third floor of the primary school building. Until she stood on solid ground, Clover didn’t realize that she expected to feel a swaying or some kind of instability at this elevation.
On either side of the hallway, large windows looked into offices that in another lifetime had been hotel rooms. The hallway was litfrom above and nearly all the offices had lamps and overhead lights blazing.
“You use a lot of energy in this place,” she said. She and West got only two hours a day. And even that was just enough to run the water heater and a couple of lamps.
Bennett kept moving as he answered. “We do important work at Waverly-Stead. Energy is precious; we have to allocate it to the places it will do the most good.”
“All work is important,” she said, mostly to herself. Bennett stopped walking, but when Clover turned back to him he just started up again and didn’t say anything.
The wall to Clover’s left opened to another elevator bank. She
Langston Bennett was about the same age as Clover’s father. Maybe forty, then. His hair was dark on top, going gray on the sides, and cut very short. His most distinctive feature, though, was a series of deep virus scars on either side of his face. Much worse than West’s, or any others that Clover had seen. She couldn’t imagine the kind of sores that left scars like that.
His eyes drifted to her stained dress, but he didn’t say anything about it. “You must be Miss Donovan.”
His voice ricocheted down the cold, marble hallway. Clover took a step back from it. Mango picked up on her anxiety and pressed against her legs. The pressure helped. The man came toward her and Clover forced a breath through her nose.
“Miss Donovan?” He reached for her, and she stepped back again.
“Yes,” she said. This had to be Langston Bennett. And he was looking at her like she was crazy. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett.”
His tight posture relaxed when she said his name. Her brain insisted that she step closer and offer to shake his hand, but her body would not obey. He closed the gap instead and put a hand on her shoulder, to turn her toward the elevator. She barely held back the instinct to yank away from him.
“Right this way,” he said, sweeping his other hand toward the open elevator door.
Clover exhaled slowly through her nose and peered through the open doors. So, an elevator was a box swinging by cables over dead air. So what? She could do this.
“How high are we going?” she asked, after Bennett was in the elevator, while she still stood outside it.
Bennett put a hand out to stop the door from closing and leaving her behind. “What’s that?”
“Which floor is your office on?”
“The eighteenth floor,” Bennett said. “You can see the whole city from my window. Even beyond the wall.”
Eighteen floors. At twelve feet a floor, that was more than two hundred feet above ground level. She stepped into the box.
The elevator wasn’t as bad as she was afraid it would be. The car was big enough to hold fifteen or twenty people. The walls were mirrored, even on the backs of the doors. Dozens of Clovers in yellow dresses with gory red stains and Langston Bennetts in pinstripes stood in infinite rows, riding more than two hundred feet up a narrow shaft, pulled by cables.
What were the chances that the virus had spared someone properly trained to maintain the intricate system of pulleys and brakes that kept them from plummeting to their deaths?
The red digital numbers above the panel of buttons registered each floor. It took less than a minute to reach eighteen. And then the door opened again and it was over. Mango walked beside her as she followed Bennett into a long, silent hallway.
She’d never been higher up than the third floor of the primary school building. Until she stood on solid ground, Clover didn’t realize that she expected to feel a swaying or some kind of instability at this elevation.
On either side of the hallway, large windows looked into offices that in another lifetime had been hotel rooms. The hallway was litfrom above and nearly all the offices had lamps and overhead lights blazing.
“You use a lot of energy in this place,” she said. She and West got only two hours a day. And even that was just enough to run the water heater and a couple of lamps.
Bennett kept moving as he answered. “We do important work at Waverly-Stead. Energy is precious; we have to allocate it to the places it will do the most good.”
“All work is important,” she said, mostly to herself. Bennett stopped walking, but when Clover turned back to him he just started up again and didn’t say anything.
The wall to Clover’s left opened to another elevator bank. She
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