Page 7 of Xantera
“Did staff report it?” I ask under my breath. This isn’t knowledge that should spread throughout the Healing Center. The factthat Gaia even knows about it is just a testament to her spectacular eavesdropping abilities.
Gaia nods. “The night clerk told the nearest sentries as soon as she noticed he was gone. The Twelve Guardians should have been alerted by now.”
“They got his exit on camera?”
Another nod. “Footage shows him sneaking out the front doors and into the passageway between Complexes 360 and 361. But he never returned to his housing unit, and as far as I know, he’s not showing up on any other cameras after that.”
Missing. My patient is missing, and I’ve never wanted to stitch up a situation as badly as I do now. I must have missed something when I was caring for him yesterday—some sign that the injury to his head damaged his brain, too, because no one in their right mind would risk being thrown over the Wall, fodder for the Monster, for a transgression as perplexing as running away from the Healing Center.
“It’s not your fault, Saskia.”
It would be impolite of me to argue with Gaia, but I can’t help my fingernails from digging into the metal of the bench at her words. Ofcourseit’s my fault. If I had just asked him some more questions…
I pull a deep inhale through my nose and nod. “Thanks for the information, Gaia. Have a good sleep.”
“Saskia.” Motherly concern follows every line of my friend’s face as she registers my formal response. She’s the only person I’ve ever joked with after turning fifteen and leaving my original family unit.
“Really, Gaia. It’s okay. I’m sure the sentries will find him and bring him back to the Healing Center so that we can continue our care.”
Yes, that has to be the bright side I can cling to. The Twelve Guardians wouldn’t throw out someone who is clearly delusional with a bruised and battered face.
I spend the rest of my shift trying to mull it over, but unfortunately, my remaining patients are too curious about the Choosing they had to miss.
“What was it like?”
“Who was picked?”
“Did you see any of them?”
To that one, I pause with my eyes on the young patient’s face. Odette’s been in our neurology wing ever since her parents reported her unconscious on the floor about a week ago. We’re still running tests to figure out what’s wrong.
“Yes,” I answer, watching her little eyes widen at that single word. “I saw one of them.”
“Which one?” she breathes.
I hesitate before blowing out, “The Third one.”
“Oooh. My friend Cheryl has a crush on him.” The girl is practically vibrating with excitement, her heart monitor increasing to 105 bpm. “She thinks he’s the most handsome of the Twelve. Do you think he was just as handsome in person?”
I glance at the monitor. I should probably remind her of the Cardinal List of Rules right about now. Number four:don’t ask unsolicited questions.This type of prying curiosity is stamped out of kids by the time they receive their blue badges.
But I also know a conversation like this is one of the only bits of normalcy she’d be able to have in the Healing Center now that she doesn’t have children her age to trade improper questions with, so I relent with a soothing, “Yes, he was very, very handsome.”
Too handsome, maybe. I don’t think I’ll ever get that perfect face out of my head.
The girl squeals and claps her hands. “Oh, I knew it, I knew it. Cheryl is going todie. Did he notice you? Did he?”
I think of the way the Third Guardian’s eyes flicked to my badge before moving on— how he didn’t even raise his eyes to my face, but how he inhaled after passing every citizen, as if taking note of each of our scents.
“Of course he noticed me,” I whisper. “The Guardians notice everyone.”
They’re always watching, I keep to myself, not daring to glance to the corner of the room where I know a camera is blinking and recording every moment of this interaction.They’re always watching.
So how did Diggory manage to disappear?
After hours of taking vitals, administering medications, and changing bandages, I’m finally tearing off my scrubs and sighing off the day of work.
Sweat has dried all over me like a second skin, and I can’t wait to get back to my housing unit to lather myself in soap under a scalding shower. Usually, I wish the automatic operation was longer than five minutes, but today I’m pretty sure I’ll be grateful for every second until the spray shuts off on me.
