The Key

Nurse Lena was small, kind, and smelled of vanilla lotion. She was the only staff member who looked Elian in the eye when she changed his IV bag.

Betraying her felt like swallowing glass.

It was Tuesday night. The storm had intensified, battering the windows with sheets of rain. The power grid flickered intermittently, a side effect of the atmospheric pressure that Elian had been counting on.

He sat in the corridor of Ward 4, feigning a malfunction with his chair’s battery.

"Elian?" Lena hurried over, her face creased with worry. "Are you stuck?"

"I think the motor burned out," Elian lied, infusing his voice with the tremor of helplessness that he knew worked on her. "I’m stuck, Lena. I can't get back to my room."

"Oh, honey, it’s okay," she soothed, kneeling to check the panel on his wheel. "Let me call maintenance."

"No!" Elian said, too quickly. He softened his tone. "Please, don't. They’ll just give me a manual chair. I hate those. Can you just... help me reset it? There’s a manual override switch on the back."

"Of course," she said. She moved behind him, leaning over the back of the chair to find the switch.

She was close. Vulnerable.

Silas stepped out of the shadows of the linen closet. He held a syringe—stolen from the pharmacy cart—in his hand.

Elian saw Lena’s reflection in the window glass. She was frowning in concentration, trying to help him.

"I’m sorry, Lena," Elian whispered.

"What did you say?" she asked, turning her head.

Silas moved. He didn't hesitate. He jammed the needle into her neck, depressing the plunger.

Lena gasped, her eyes going wide. She slumped forward, draping over Elian’s shoulder like a ragdoll.

"Catch her," Silas hissed.

Elian grabbed her arms to keep her from sliding to the floor. Her body was warm. Her heart fluttered against his back like a trapped bird.

"Is she...?"

"She’s sleeping," Silas said coldly. He pulled a portable retinal scanner from his pocket—another piece of Elian’s tech. He prioritized the scan. He pried Lena’s eyelid open.

The scanner beeped. *Access Granted.*

Silas grinned. It was a terrifying look—pure, unadulterated triumph. He didn't look at Lena. He didn't care about the woman who had brought him extra dessert on Tuesdays.

"We have the key," Silas said. "Let’s go."

Elian looked at Lena’s unconscious form as Silas dragged her into the linen closet and propped her up against the towels.

"We’re monsters," Elian whispered.

Silas grabbed the handles of Elian’s chair. "We’re survivors, Elian. Don't confuse the two."