The Only

Chapter Ten - Karl

Karl looked up from his notebook to the sound of feet slamming down the stairs. Suddenly, Erol appeared, dragging Miranda by her arm. Having made it to the end of the landing, Erol shoved her onto a stool.

"Don't you move!" he yelled and started to pace.

"I am not giving him anything," she spat.

Erol froze. "You will and you'll do it now. The Only's very existence is in jeopardy, and you stupidly just made yourself a suspect in this whole mess. To put yourself in a better light, you better damn well change your attitude and give the kind doctor here whatever he needs."

Miranda huffed and violently crossed her legs. A frenzy of fabric whirled around her.

Karl looked at Erol, to Miranda, and back to Erol. Erol had his hands on his hips, and his eyes were narrowed into thin slits, staring at Miranda. His energy level was higher and his color was less green. He looked better. What happened?

"Get a syringe ready, Karl. The Only has sent you your first sample." Erol gestured toward Miranda.

"Sure." Karl said. "Give me a minute."

Where should he look first? He didn't get much of a chance to get to know the lab. Pulling out drawer after drawer, he clumsily rummaged through each, looking for a supply of needles. They had to be somewhere close. The last thing he wanted to do was call for Monty.

Karl opened the last drawer in the console and was relieved to find the syringes, tubes, and the tourniquet. He grabbed the supplies and put them on the counter.

"Let me see your arms," he said to Miranda, tugging on rubber gloves.

She responded with another huff and turned her head away.

"Show him," Erol said with a growl.

Miranda stubbornly stuck out both arms. Her bluish, green veins were clearly visible on her forearms. Either was acceptable.

"Your left one will be fine." Karl ripped open an alcohol swipe and wiped her arm. He then turned to prepare the needle.

Miranda howled with laughter. "You think that is going to work?" She nodded toward the needle. "What an idiot."

"I have an IQ of two twenty-five. I am not an idiot," Karl said, turning quickly and administering the needle, which promptly snapped in two as he attempted to pierce Miranda's skin.

"Told you," Miranda said, staring at Karl. "Idiot."

Impossible. Karl felt the arm. It didn't seem different. The texture was the same. Color was a bit different. A little more translucent, a direct contrast to Erol's olive-like complexion.

Why would the needle break?

"You really don't know much about us, do you?" Erol walked over to the counter and opened the drawer. "You're going to need at least an eleven-gauge needle or higher." He withdrew one from the drawer. "Our skin is not nearly as fragile as Ordinarys. Miranda is relatively young, so an eleven gauge should work."

"I'm old enough," Miranda said, triumphantly crossing her arms in front of her.

"Shut up and give him your arm," Erol said.

"How...how old are you?" Karl said, taking the needle from Erol's hand.

Miranda huffed and turned her head away.

"Miranda is a young, sprightly six hundred and sixty-eight years of age."

"T-that's young?" Karl stammered.