Folsom (End of Men, #1)(19)

“What is going on?”

She stops and puts her hand on my arm, halting my steps. “You don’t know?” She shakes her head and nudges me to keep moving. “Corinne will fill you in. I have to get everything ready for the press conference, like, yesterday. How was he, though? That’s what I’m dying to know. Did he ride you like a horse and then seem worn out?” She grasps my arm. “I hope it worked.”

I scowl at her. “What are you talking about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, keep it to yourself. I will get it out of you.” She motions toward Corinne’s office and backs away, pointing at me. “Lunch. You can’t avoid this. I’m living vicariously through you.”

My mouth hangs open. I want to go back and restart this day—I’m so confused—when Corinne walks out of her office.

“Thank God you’re here. The team is here and we’ll need you to do the MRI soon.” She ushers me past the first two domes and I pause. I typically only work in domes one and two.

“I came in early and didn’t expect to see so many people here.” I barely get the words out when I realize she isn’t listening.

We walk past domes three and four, and around dome five I see women in blue lab coats that I’ve never seen.

“Who are they?” I whisper.

I glance through the open door past them and see a boy. He looks young, a teenager, maybe fifteen or sixteen at most. He’s in bed hooked up to our largest diagnostics machine. He glances up at me and I falter in mid-step. He’s beautiful and afraid. I move toward his door, eager to put him at ease, and Corinne stops me.

“Not him,” she says.

She motions down the hall toward the last dome of the building. I’ve never been in dome six, but I’ve heard the stories. It’s where the most deaths have occurred, where the hardest procedures are conducted. Maybe I haven’t been aware of it since I didn’t know anyone was in dome five either, but to my knowledge, dome six hasn’t been occupied since I came to work at the main branch five years ago.

Dread begins to fully set in, my concern for the boy pushed aside. There’s only one man in the Red Region and it can’t be good if he’s here. I rush toward the next dome and ignore protocol, moving past the doctors attending him.

Folsom lies in the bed, all the color and life I saw in him yesterday now a dulled grey. His skin is damp, his hair wet with perspiration, and every orifice is filled with a tube. Electrodes line his chest. I move to his side, shaky but determined.

“What happened to him?” My voice breaks on the last word, but I look around, demanding an answer.

The doctor closest to me gives me a fleeting glance before turning back to him, tearing off the printout of his heart activity. She takes a long look and then speaks.

“Mr. Donahue suffered a heart attack sometime early this morning. We’re not certain of the exact time because Lottery 607 failed to alert anyone until at least two hours after it happened, maybe longer.” She purses her lips and flips through the printout. “I suppose she was right to be afraid—she’ll serve time for withholding.”

I cover my mouth with my hands and pace the length of the corridor, occasionally glancing into his room. I’m overreacting. I know I’m overreacting. I barely know this man, so why do I feel so sick? The End Men represent hope to all of the Regions, I reassure myself. Of course I’m upset. It makes complete sense. And he isn’t just any End Man—he’s the original, the turning point in which we placed our hope. There are news crews outside and the entire nation is on alert. I calm my breathing and press a hand to the glass that separates me from Folsom. It is our civic duty to care about him: Folsom Donahue is our future. Yes, that is all. My Silverbook hovers and I glance at it distractedly. I turned it on vibrate after I missed Corinne’s messages, but when I see who’s messaging me, I immediately switch it back to idle. Sophia is frantic, wanting me to sneak her into the lab so she can see Folsom. I roll my eyes. She’s acting like…she’s acting like…me. Corinne comes marching down the corridor at that moment and I turn to face her.

“Most of the staff are busy here with him,” she says, jerking her head toward Folsom’s bed. “I need you somewhere else.” We start walking in stride and I resist the urge to look back at him one last time.

“Right,” I say. “Where do you need me?”

She stops abruptly and turns to face me, looking around quickly to make sure no one can hear her.

“This is highly confidential. We have not made the information public…”

I blink at her, unsure of where she’s going with this.

“One of Folsom’s sons is here, the oldest boy…”

I think of the boy I saw this morning and stare at her in shock. The hair, the jaw, the naturally wounded-looking eyes…I’d seen them before on Folsom’s face. In all the commotion I’d forgotten about him.

“One of the five?” I ask, breathless.

She nods. “He was the first male birth the Regions had in twenty years. His mother won’t let us even see him until he comes of age.” She pauses. “And even then she’s tried to hide him. We had to go in and remove him from the home.”

“You kidnapped him?” I ask in disbelief. “He’s just a kid.”