Dawn of Fog and Glass

Chapter Fifteen: Dawn of Fog and Glass

"It's important to differentiate the two."

The voices are quiet but sharp. My brain, groggy with sleep, misses a few words.

"Her first instincts are to protect." The voice belongs to Adams. Even with my eyes closed, I can distinguish the raspy lilt of her voice. "In the Marksberg Lab, she thought she was a Crawler and tried to escape for the safety of her friends, whether or not the choice was conscious. When Orion Townsend fell, she caught him. When the Crawlers got to Draco, she killed them to save him. It's a classic blue case behaviour."

"Killing hundreds of people is not classic blue case behaviour."

"Simulated people."

"What does that matter? What if they were real?"

"But they weren't, and she knew that." Adams's voice wavers.

"March...," the second voice trails off. There are a rustle and the tinkling of something small and metal, like keys.

I keep my eyes squeezed shut, relax my limbs, even out my breathing so as to not draw attention to myself. If there's any chance I have to find out more, it's now.

"Do we still have eyes on Orion Townsend?" A third voice asks, a man's this time. "Dr. Raymond hasn't given us any new updates."

I don't notice I'm holding my breath until my lungs begin to burn. I slowly exhale, hoping no one notices.

Adams grunts. "As far as I know, his reports are normal. I mean, his blood pressure and iron levels are critically low and dropping further, but apparently, that's normal. He's not exhibiting any Crawler or Morph symptoms."

I should be happy he's still normal. He's still Orion.

Instead, I feel anger. Anger because he's getting sicker, which means he's not taking care of his dysautonomia. I try to redirect my anger to Hera, to Caleb, but at the end of the day, it's up to Orion to get healthier.

It's only been a couple of days, I think. How bad could he have gotten? Is that even possible?

Orion listens to me, and me alone. And without me to boss him around, he's suffering. I wish he was here right now so I could shake him. I couldn't bear it if he fell back to that time where it was the worst, where he couldn't do classwork for more than a few hours before his body practically shut down. He'd lie in his room with the lights off, skin pale, groaning because everything hurt too much. I'd sit at the edge of his bed, brush the hair out of his eyes. Sometimes I'd lie down with him, just to remind him he's not alone.

Sometimes he'd cry. Those were the worst times, when the pain was so awful and his brain got so clouded, he just broke down and cried.

I can't let him go back to those times. I can't let him hurt like that again.

I can't do anything to stop it, either. That's the worst part about all of this. He's a few mere miles away, but if I tried to leave the institute's protective force field, I'd be ripped to shreds.

You'll never get out.

"So, she's a silver case with blue intentions?" The third voice asks. "I'm confused."

"She's a blue case," Adams replies. "I'd bet my taser gun on it."

"She's a silver case," the second voice corrects her. "Blue cases don't kill."

Adams inhales sharply. "Okay, then, I guess we'll have to see after the tests."

Tests?

A fourth voice speaks, slick like oil. Headmaster Crawley. "Head Officer Adams is right. We'll have to collect new information, preferably with our...special testers. It's too early to tell with the information we currently possess."