The Smaller Evil by Stephanie Kuehn

Author:Stephanie Kuehn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-06-09T17:25:18+00:00

18

“JESUS. YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT.” At the sight of Arman appearing in the cabin doorway, Dale leapt off his cot like he’d sat in a nest of spiders. A gray haze of pot smoke swirled around his head.

Arman didn’t move from where he stood. His brain felt empty. Scraped clean. He didn’t think he wanted to know what Dale had been doing before he’d interrupted him. He didn’t think he wanted to know anything. He just wanted to sleep. “Huh?”

Dale, who was simultaneously grinding a joint out on the dusty floorboards with one of Kira’s high-heeled sandals, waved Arman inside. “Well, sit down or something. Christ. You look like the walking dead. And is that blood? Gross, man.”

Arman stepped inside the cabin. Then he stopped. Stared down at his T-shirt. Sure enough, there was blood streaked across the front of it.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I hit my head.”

Dale came toward him then, removing his sunglasses and inspecting him closely, red-rimmed eyes running from head to toe. “Fuck. Are those stitches? What happened? Who did that?”

“A doctor did it. The stitches, I mean.”

“A doctor did it? That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“His name’s Gary.” Arman took a breath. “Sorry if I’m being spacey. He gave me some kind of painkiller. I can’t think too straight right now.”

“A painkiller, huh? Well, I hope he gave you something good. Like morphine. Or Percocet.” Dale paused. “Did he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you get any more?”

“No.”

Dale sighed. “Well, tell me what you’ve been doing all day then. Kira’s been worried. She thought you’d been Jonestowned or something.”

“And you weren’t worried?”

“Nah. I don’t worry about a lot of things. It’s nothing personal.”

“Where is Kira?” Arman looked around. She definitely wasn’t anywhere in the cabin.

“She’s still down at that stupid meeting. She’s really into it, this whole thing, the whole program, all the denouncing your family—excuse me, your vectors—and finding wellness within. Figures. She’s the one who wanted to come in the first place. Not me. My family’s not worth denouncing. I mean, it’s not like they would care, so what’s the point?”

“But you’re not at Inoculation,” Arman said, which wasn’t a question, but an observation about something that seemed wrong. Everybody was supposed to be at Inoculation.

Right?

“Well, you’re not there either.” Dale lowered his voice. “And just between us, I think it’s all a bunch of bullshit. That Beau guy wasn’t even there today, but it didn’t matter. Those so-called trainers jumped in all eager, leading the speeches, telling us we need to commit to the program or else. Like they were glad he was gone. They bring people here, too, you know. I bet we could if we wanted to. Get paid for our effort. They’re just a bunch of con artists, man. All of them.”

Arman’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“I’m saying it’s a total scam. Everything here. This morning we stayed in that room for hours while they yelled at us. They wouldn’t let us eat. Wouldn’t even let me take a piss.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Apparently bodily functions are against the rules.

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