A bright light flashed in Jonas' eyes.
"He's been unconscious for almost a day," a voice said in a hushed tone.
"So we still don't know what he was doing?" said another voice.
"No, but we can guess."
Jonas' eyes opened to the sterile white of a hospital room. The two doctors standing beside his bed looked down at him with their dark eyes. They wore on their white coats the insignia of the community.
"No—" Jonas gasped.
"Ah," one of the doctors said. "Awake at last."
"What am I doing here?" Jonas asked, panic rising in his throat.
"You were found unconscious just on the other side of the bridge, your bike beside you," the second doctors said. Her nametag read, "Alice".
"We would like to know what you were doing there at night with a bike and the newchild," the other one, "Jeremy", said.
"It can't be," Jonas said slowly. "It can't be... I got away... I was all the way to Elsewhere..."
An intercom buzzed. Alice crossed to it and pressed the button. "Yes?"
"Bring the Receiver of Memory to the Justice Department," the voice on the intercom said.
"Yes, Sir," Alice replied. She and Jeremy lifted Jonas to his feet. One hand firmly on each elbow, he was escorted down the hall. As they turned a corner, Jonas saw a sign on the wall with an arrow pointing down the left-hand corridor, bearing the legend "Release".
"You'll be seeing this hall again soon, I'd imagine," Jeremy said. Jonas' blood ran cold—and then, he heard a high-pitched wail.
"Gabe!" Jonas wrenched his arms from their grasp and ran down the hall toward the Releasing Room. He could hear Gabriel crying. "No! Gabe!" The two doctors were running after him. He skidded to a stop by the door and flung it open. Gabriel lay on the table, a doctor bent over him with a needle. The doctor turned—it was his father.
"Father! Don't!"
"Wave bye-bye, Gabe," his father said, smiling at Jonas. Then he stuck the needle in Gabriel's forehead—
A hand grabbed Jonas' shoulder and shook him. "Jonas! Wake up!"
Jonas said up in the darkness and grabbed at them.
"Ouch!" Charity said as his fingers closed hard on her forearm. "Jonas, you're hurting me!"
Jonas let go. "I apologize for hurting you," he said automatically. His chest was heaving, and he was covered in a cold sweat. He buried his face in his hands.
Charity flicked on the lamp, and he felt her sit down on the edge of the bed beside him. "Are you alright?"
"They were going to kill him. Gabe. That's why I ran away." He drew a shuddering breath. "He couldn't sleep at night, and they were going to kill him. It was my father's job. I watched him murder a newborn—a twin. Just because he was the smaller of the two. I couldn't let them take Gabriel—"
His words were lost in sobs. After such a confession of the horrors of his people, Jonas expected to feel Charity shrink away, expected to hear a gasp of disgust. Instead, with shock he felt her arms go around him, drawing his head down onto her shoulder, holding him close and safe just as he held Gabriel in the cold. He clung to her and wept all the fear of his flight, all the loneliness, all the grief. After awhile, Charity pulled back. "Come with me," she said.
She helped him to his feet, slipping her arm around his waist to steady him. They went out into the hall and Charity opened the door at the end. Stepping inside, she turned on a lamp. And there, on a mattress on the floor, swaddled in blankets, lay Gabe, fast asleep.
"He's safe, Jonas. You both are."
They stood there, watching Gabriel sleep the deep sleep of a child, until Jonas began to sag against Charity.
"Back to bed," she said softly, with a little chuckle.
Back in Jonas' room, she sat down in the armchair and picked up her book.
"You're not going back to bed?" Jonas asked her, pulling the blankets up to his chin.
"I will, then," she said, curling up on the seat. "But I'll stay until you're asleep."
"Thank you," Jonas said. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed were that her feet on the seat of the armchair were bare. Jonas smiled in the dark.