Grace Feckterhight

Chapter Six

I stumbled down the dark hallway, Dixter leaned against me. Alka clutched my arm out of fright. She was overly afraid, especially for a nine-year-old. I suppose being an orphan in Kistra would do that to children.

"It's okay," I reassured her in French. She looked up at me with her scared eyes. They had a deeper look to them, like this was more than fear. She was scared of trusting anyone. "We'll get you cleaned up."

At the end of the hallway, Dix collapsed. Alka and I stumbled, but kept our feet on the ground. I managed to reach out an arm to type in the passcode, the red dot flickering to green. The wall folded into itself, revealing our broken bodies to the B.L.A.D.E. guards. They each took a step forward, alarmed.

"Agents," I stumbled. "We need some assistance."

They rushed forward, helping Dixter to his feet. Once he was supported by one agent, the other offered to help me into the elevator. I accepted, then turned back towards the poor girl.

"This way, Alka." I offered my hand, and she took it. She looked uncertain of the strange men. She took steps back, evidently not easily trusting.

"Ça va, Alka," It's okay. I nodded to the agent. He let me go, and I stood on my own unsteadily. I carefully kneeled and looked her in the eye, just like the first time. I spoke softly to her in French. "They're here to help. I promise, no one here will hurt you."

The pain in the broken nine-year-old's eyes tore at my heart. She took my hand, the agent once again helped me to my feet, and we slowly made our way towards the elevator.

Once everyone was in, the agent holding Dix pressed the button for level 4, the medical floor. The agent supporting me took out his communicator and called for two new guards. The other agent took out his comm and alerted Chief about our condition.

The doors opened, and the blinding lights of level 4 overwhelmed me. I almost stumbled. Am I really that hurt? I felt like I was about to faint.

When I looked up again, I could see the white walls, the rows of beds, the medical equipment, the cabinets of supplies. Worried nurses watched us pass as we staggered our way over to the beds.

Dixter crashed onto one and closed his eyes, falling unconscious. I fell onto a bed and closed my eyes, Alka at my bedside. My vision darkened, the lights fading into nothingness.

The next thing I knew, Chief was sitting on my bed. Her warm caramel eyes looked me over with concern, her hair cascading down her shoulder like a waterfall. The bags under her eyes seemed worse.

I moved a little and realized that I had been changed into white hospital clothes. It was odd, how the medical floor was so opposite of the dark theme of HQ.

She stared at my face, her brows knit in a concerned way. I opened my eyes fully, getting used to the bright lights. The first thing I did was look for Dixter. I turned my head to the right, seeing him to the bed next to me.

He looked pale, but okay. He'd also been changed into the white medical clothes. His chest moved regularly. I breathed a sigh of relief, just glad to see him alive.

Alka stood to my left, clean and in fresh clothes. Her hair looked brushed and wet, as if she'd just showered. She looked different. Better.

She had a light in her eyes, a shine in their youth. But there was something else in her new appearance. She looked alive. Like being abandoned wasn't how she was supposed to be. But then again, who was born to be forgotten?

She placed a hand on my arm, her youth shining. Her words were soft and gentle, as caring as a younger sister. "Comment ça va, Feckter?" How are you?