Across the Universe - Beth Revis [108]
Empty. What a good way to describe them.
“Heard about you on the wi-com,” Steela says, taking my arm. Her grip on my elbow is strong, belying her gnarled fingers. “Don’t reckon you’re what they said you were.”
“I reckon you’re one of the smartest people on this ship.”
Steela snorts. “Not smart.” She looks up as we reach the doors. “Not smart at all. I’m just scared, is all.” She grips my elbow tighter, somehow finding the thinnest skin to dig her fingernails into. I want to pry her fingers from my arm, but when I look down at her, I can tell that she’s using me as a lifeline, and I’m not going to be the one to let her drown.
“What do you have to be scared of?”
Steela stares blankly ahead. “I’m one of the last.” She glances up at me and sees my confused face. “One of the last of me generation.” The doors slide open and we step inside, but Steela is going slowly, slowly, until she actually stops just a few feet inside the lobby. “No one’s ever come back from here.”
“Don’t be silly.” I laugh. “I left here this morning.”
Steela gazes down at my smooth arm. “I don’t forget. I’ve never forgotten any of them: Sunestra, Everard, me Albie ... all of them dropped off here by their loving, brainless families, and none of them ever came back.”
I bite my lip in worry. “I’ve never seen them,” I say, but I remember not too long ago, the woman who was being checked in. The nurse took her away. But where?
I lead Steela up to the front desk and clear my throat to get the heavyset woman’s attention.
“What?” she asks, staring at Steela with cold, hard eyes.
“Her daughter came to drop her off,” I say.
The nurse nods and starts to come around her desk. “I’ll take her up to the fourth floor.”
“But you haven’t even asked what’s wrong.”
The nurse rolls her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asks Steela.
“Nothing,” Steela says.
“Did your daughter say you were having delusions?”
“She said I was ...” Steela starts, a worried look on her face.
“That’s not so bad,” I say, patting Steela’s hand. “Old people don’t always think straight. It’s nothing to worry about.” I glance at the nurse. “It’s nothing to go to a hospital over. I can take her back home.”
“What kind of delusions?” the nurse asks, bored.
Steela’s face grows dark. I can tell that she is really worried, really scared. “I ... I remember ...” she mutters.
“What do you think you remember?” The nurse doesn’t look up from the floppy she’s typing on.
“The stars,” Steela whispers. My hold on her hand tightens. “Earlier, when Eldest said ...”
Her voice trails off. She does not have to finish.
“But ...”
My full attention is on Steela. I can tell by the way she’s shaking that what she’s trying to say is vitally important to her. The nurse yawns.
“But I can remember that happening before. When I was pregnant with me daughter—”
“Didn’t happen,” the nurse interjects. “Lots of the grays have been saying the same. Just getting the past mixed up with the present.”
Steela bristles. “Don’t tell me what I do and do not remember!”
“Classic delusional case, brought on by age,” the nurse states in a matter of fact way. “Come with me.”
She steps out from behind the desk and reaches for Steela’s arm. Steela holds on to me tighter and refuses to move.
“Where are you taking her?” I ask.
“Fourth floor.”
My mind is racing. I need to relieve Harley from guard duty; I need to focus more on solving the mystery of the killer. But Steela’s fragile hands are shaking. I said I wouldn’t be the one to let her drown. I can afford enough time to be her buoy a little longer. Besides—I want desperately to know what is behind those locked doors.
“I’ll take her up there,” I offer. I can feel Steela sag with relief at the thought.
“I shouldn’t ...”
“I don’t mind.”
“Let me call Doc.” Her hand hovers