The Similars (The Similars #1)(76)

When I reach the research building, I’m out of breath. I slink as close as I can to the door, where I spot two figures. One is a large, bulky man—the security guard. The other is petite. It’s Maude, I can tell from the outline of her coat. She’s talking to him. I let out a breath of relief. I haven’t missed them—or my window of opportunity. I move closer.

“I know it’s asking a lot,” Maude says a little too loudly, but likely for my benefit. Her voice is smooth as silk, with a slight Southern twang, her British accent completely gone. “But it’s late. Principal Fleischer wanted me to check in right at midnight. If I go back to get my key…”

I can’t hear what the security guard says, but the next thing I know, the door is opening. He’s letting her in. Heart thumping, I run toward them.

“Wait!” I say breathlessly, but Maude doesn’t turn around. The door closes with a thud behind her as I reach the guard. “Sorry!” I choke out. “I’m supposed to be with her.”

The guard stands in front of the door with his arms crossed.

“Who are you?”

“Emmaline Chance,” I say quickly. “I’m helping Madison with…” I lower my voice, thinking fast. “Well, it’s confidential, of course. We’ve both been ordered by Principal Fleischer not to leak any details. But it’s important. Surely you know what I’m talking about?”

“Of course I do,” the guard says, though I get the distinct sense that he knows nothing and doesn’t want to let on.

“Madison forget her key,” I say, an idea forming. “I grabbed it before I left our dorm. Here. Look.” I pull my key out from under my T-shirt along with Oliver’s. “See? I put hers on before I left. Didn’t want to lose it in the dark. I’m a scatterbrain like that.” Will it work? Will he let me in? “I’d open the door myself, but Maddie’s the one with privileges, and you know I can’t use her key. Wrong DNA.” I flash a smile.

The guard doesn’t move.

“Please,” I plead. “My dad’ll kill me if I get in trouble with Principal Fleischer. You know how scary she is.”

He looks at me for a moment, then shrugs. “Go ahead.” He uses his own key to open the door for me.

“Thanks so much,” I say as I hurry inside. “I owe you one!”

I hustle to the bank of elevators when I hear a door at the end of the hallway close. It happens so fast, I don’t see who did it. My heart pounds. Is someone else here in this building, at midnight? Someone besides me and Maude? Or was that Maude? And if so, what’s she doing on the first floor?

I quickly walk down the hall. I need to know if it was Maude. If it was someone else—Fleischer, for instance—I want to know so that we aren’t ambushed.

This door is solid—there’s no window to see who, or what, is inside. I steel myself, listening at the door for a few minutes. Nothing. I try the door handle. It opens easily. Blood pulsing through my veins, I push it open gingerly, aware that I’m breaking a million rules.

The room is large, not unlike the hologram room, and the lighting is low. The space is virtually bare—except for medical equipment and five chairs all in a row.

Each chair is hefty like an armchair, though these chairs don’t look comfortable. There is a figure in each chair, and each person is hooked up to a bank of wires and IV tubes. I’m immediately reminded of when Pru and I visited her mother during one of her chemotherapy sessions. Is that what this is? A treatment center?

I step inside to get a better look. My eyes focus. And my heart stops.

The people in the chairs are students. And not just any students. The Similars.

I’m stunned. What are they doing here? What is Maude doing here? Why is she here and not in the hologram room as we planned?

My gaze leaps from face to face. Levi is not here.

The more I stare, I realize it’s not a matter of what they’re doing. No, the question is what’s being done to them.

Each Similar is perfectly still and has his or her eyes closed. When I look more carefully, I see that blood runs from them through tubes to the bank of machines and monitors. A light reddish substance runs to them through another series of tubes.

“Maude?” I ask hesitantly as I approach her chair. “Are you awake? Can you hear me? What’s going on?”

She doesn’t respond. Fear courses through my body. “Maude!” I shout this time. “Theodora. Pippa?!” I say, facing the Similars. No answer. They can’t hear me.

Panicked, I back toward the door. My instinct is to free them. To start pulling out those IVs and needles and tubes. But what if I hurt them? What if yanking out a tube is dangerous, even deadly?

“How nice of you to join us.” I whirl, my heart beating in my ears like a metal drum. It’s Fleischer in a white lab coat. She stands in the doorway, not two feet from me.

“Principal Fleischer,” I say. “You have to help! What’s happening? Why are the Similars—? What is—what is this?”

“Nothing of your concern.”

“Is this safe? Are they hurt? What are the tubes for? What is this treatment for? Are they unconscious?”

She replies calmly, “As a matter of fact, they are. One of the tubes is delivering a sleeping injective. You have nothing to worry about, Emmaline. They can’t feel a thing.”