Blood Numbers by C.F. Kreitzer

Author:C.F. Kreitzer [Kreitzer, C. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monster Ivy Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

All the things I think I would say in these situations like “Is everything ok, officer?” and “Why what’s wrong?” are all flushed out with nerves and my own speculations of what it all means. I guess when I’ve been cheating the system by washing expensive mind-controlling drugs down the drain, and hacking their database, it’s not so easy to act nonchalant.

I lift my finger, and it feels as if my arm’s a lever squeezing and tightening my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t swallow. They don’t give any explanation; they only lift the portable electronic blood devices that are attached to their belts.

I examine this officer and realize how young he is. Maybe my age. Men fulfilling their inherited duty, following a line of fathers to the military, or boys running from poverty-stricken homes to have a warm blanket on their cot,.Whichever background they emerge from, they all wear the same shaved shiny head and eyebrow-less expressions. This soldier’s lack of eyebrows makes his forehead long, and his blue eyes look pale and pathetic alone on his face. He uncaps the scan hole and gently places my finger over it. The red light appears immediately.

I turn my head and see Gannet turning in a folder at the front desk. He eyes me and then the soldier with a furrowed brow before he stuffs his hands in his pockets and approaches.

“I am this Donor’s technician. Is everything ok here?”

Oh, how grateful I actually am that Gannet is unable to have emotions right now to get in the way. His clear head and calm words allow me to finally breathe, and I look at the young soldier for a response.

“Nothing concerning her donations, technician. There has been a breach of system records. A Lazoolie—”

“Lazuli?” I interject. Scars above but I can’t breathe. I had been so stupidly wrapped up in dreams about a romance that only exists in another time that I completely forgot about my escapades on the miniport. Why had I wasted all my time reading classic romances? I’m sure there were other contraband books full of espionage or how to succeed in the art of deceit. Scars! Does my face give it all away? My cheeks are cold, but my face is wet with perspiration. I’m sure it screams I’m guilty! Arrest me! Torture me now for my crimes against the system!

Flashing across my mind comes a vision of young Lazuli with dark giant curls. Her pinky is entwined with mine, and we spit on the ground after saying, “Friends forever.” Her tiny eight-year-old voice coos through my mind, “We’ll always tell each other everything. Blood doesn’t make our friendship.” What have I done? I should have talked to Lazuli. Why didn’t I think about just asking her? Because she’s a drugged dummy, that’s why. The pressure in my head feels like a buoy on the water keeping me afloat, or maybe it is dragging me under. Scars galore, protect my friend from my stupidity.

The young officer is eyeing my face, which only adds to my panic.

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