Splintered

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Observe, Protect and Preserve

 Beyond the train station windows, the utterly urban District Eight waited, without a speck of foliage for miles. There was only stone, brick, and metal as far as the eye could see.

"Dr. Gaul, what a pleasant surprise. We weren't expecting you." Indira politely greeted, nails tap dancing over her forearms.

Gaul traversed the car, gliding her fingers and eyes over the various objects in her path. Checking for soft spots. Prying for vulnerability.

There was something about being in Dr. Gaul's presence that invoked the feeling of exposure, like raw, naked skin beneath the edge of a blade. Or a helpless creature trapped in a tank.

"Is Mr. Trask not returning?" Festus asked a little too hopefully.

"Augustus is currently occupied with his newfound interest in politics. Also, it seems this tour has been quite eventful under his supervision, even with my very clear direction to avoid excessive spectacle. So I took it upon myself to supervise. " Dr. Gaul scanned each person before her like different species of lab rabbits. "But rest assured, Mr. Creed, Augustus will be joining us shortly."

Festus's countenance dimmed.

Finally, after being satisfied with her inspection of the surroundings, Gaul honed in on Hazel, advancing until she was within reach. Stubby fingers surged forward, clasping the victor's medal. Hazel choked down a small gasp of surprise.

Bleach-worn nails dug into the face as if she had the strength to dent it with sheer will and her bare thumb.

A guttural sound filtered out of the terrifying woman. "Lovely, no?"

Hazel nodded as she leaned slightly backward, "Yes, doctor."

Dr. Gaul hummed. "To the untrained eye, one can hardly discern that it is not the original. Placeholders are interesting things, are they not?"

Hazel swallowed as Gaul's fingertips gave up indenting the medallion and instead began to poke out a haphazard rhythm. "Yet, somehow, you can still sense the difference."

Snow cleared his throat.

Dr. Gaul's teeth flashed as she examined their reactions. "Isn't that right, Mr. Snow?"

A sinking sensation weighed on Hazel's chest even heavier than the medal.

Snow perused the thing himself. Clearly, he understood more closely what the mad doctor was referring to. "Don't be modest, Dr. Gaul. This one is better. Even more than the first. More befitting if you ask me."

"An opinion you have quite a bit lately."

Snow ironed his lips together for a moment before evenly saying, "Fact is hardly opinion."

"And theory is not fact. Speaking of, I've a couple that I need to test. You can take the doctor out of the lab and all..." Dr. Gaul's grip squeezed as she zeroed in on Hazel. "How do you feel about a little tour, Miss Marlowe?"

"A tour of what, Doctor?" Hazel stammered, the tightening straps digging into her neck.

Dr. Gaul leaned in, "Let's not ruin the surprise." Releasing her hold, she presented an almost chivalrous elbow to Hazel.

With a shaky breath and a quick rub of her tingling neck muscles, Hazel looped her arm within Gaul's, letting the woman lead her into the train station and then out into the fresh winter air. The rest of the group reluctantly followed.

Hazel swore she heard Snow mutter a curse.

Gaul's astringent nails scraped her forearms even through the layers of her clothing as they walked. The District was mostly gray structures and faded brick buildings in rows beneath a dusky, smog-choked sky. The air carried the nostril-burning scent of dyes, chemicals, and smoke from the many factories. Street blocks were filled with warehouses and mills, their faces caked in a matching slate-toned grime. A perpetual burr sound came from every direction.