Linked

Twenty-Nine : Blood

There's blood on my shirt. Warm and damp, seeping through the pale blue fabric. With alarm, I wonder why my breasts are bleeding. Then it clicks. It's not my blood. It's Corin's blood. The wounds from the cougar incident have opened again.

"What's wrong with you two?" Petra suddenly spits, her tiny chin jutting out in disgust. "That sure ain't normal." Her cheery disposition has all but vanished.

My fists curl and my body goes tight with rage, re-energised. Pulling away from Corin, I advance on the freckled girl and her heap of spinach. "And Linking is? Normal?" I seethe. "You're normal?" I stop a few inches from her face, sweeping my arm around to indicate the rest of the room. "They're all normal, too? Then why are they here, locked away underground?" Petra doesn't reply. Her face is stony. "That's what I thought."

"Benna..." Corin gently tries to take my arm. Faces are staring at us from all around. Frowning, muttering, white with shock and fear. "Just leave it."

"No," I say, turning to address the Commonspace, not just Petra. "I didn't come all the way here to continue to keep secrets. I've had enough of hiding." I raise my voice, letting it soar confidently across the room. "If you haven't formally met us yet, I am Benna Denman, and this is Corin Elhart. Yes, we are Linked. Yes, as you just witnessed, our Link is physical as well as mental. It is what it is. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you get over it. We have."

I wish I had added something inspirational, some line about how we are all Linkers and need to support each other, blah blah, the way my father does when he addresses a crowd. But I am interrupted by my mother, barging over to hustle me away. I catch a glimpse of Petra's scowling face as Corin and I are led to the door. Call me petty, but it pleases me Petra is much less pretty when scowling. And taking her annoyance out on the poor innocent spinach, hacking it into bits.

Mom must have spotted the pattern of blood decorating Corin's shirt, too. We march through the labyrinthine corridors in her wake, heading for the Medic Room. Our boots echo on the concrete. We barely pass anyone on our way, but those we do see greet us with brief smiles, unaware of what just went down in the Commonspace. I have a feeling that their ignorance will not last long. Finally, we come to a metal door marked with a faded white cross. It's open a crack, but my mother knocks and announces our presence before swinging it wide and entering anyway.

"Hello again, roomies." Zeth greets us. He seems busy, rummaging through an open wall-mounted cupboard full of small boxes and glass jars.

"Er - we're looking for the doctor." I reply, taking a moment to scope out the room. It's small, barely fitting an old desk and an examination bed horrifyingly similar to Dr. Frenchwood's, right down to the white cotton sheet. There's a lightbulb dangling from the ceiling in addition to the lamps fixed to the walls, so the room is blindingly bright in comparison with the dim maze of corridors. Opposite the door we entered is a door leading elsewhere - my guess would be a ward of some sort.

"You're looking at him," Zeth says with a toothy grin. "Here," he grabs a stethoscope from the desk and drapes it around his shoulders, "Do I seem more the part, now?"

Before I can reply, mom touches my shoulder. "I'm going to see to that laundry, sweetheart. Think you two can find your way back?"

"Sure," I say. "We'll see you later."

Mom thanks Zeth, then disappears, leaving us in the good hands of Doctor Tarzan. "So, what can I do for you this morning?" He asks, shutting the cupboard and sauntering over. "You look like you've been bleeding a bit, buddy."

Corin explains what happened in the forest and, after sanitizing his hands, Zeth gets him to recline on the bed. I perch on the edge of the mattress beside him. Corin takes my hand in his, resting his other behind his head. He sighs deeply, turning his head to look at me with a weak smile. I smile back, crossing my eyes to make him laugh. It works.