33. Not Contagious

K ellen woke to movement across the mattress. Forgetting where he was for a moment, he thought at first it was Wolf. But then he was registering the blank wall in front of his face, the far nicer mattress beneath his body, the cold air outside the blanket.

He sat up.

Alexei was sitting at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. The blindfolded boy was leaned forward, face lowered, his arms wrapped around his midsection.

Something was wrong.

Kellen brushed a hand quickly across his eyes. “Alexei?”

Alexei said nothing. Without a sound, he stood up and started for the doorway, arms still gripping his abdomen.

“Alexei―” Kellen quickly threw back the blanket and got off the bed. He nearly tripped over his own shoes, lying where he had left them.

Alexei cut a straight path for the bathroom. He didn’t turn the light on, didn’t close the door behind him. Kellen heard the sound of the toilet seat lifting even before he reached the doorway. Then, quiet retching.

Kellen stopped just outside the bathroom. His hand lifted, reached around slowly, and switched on the bathroom light. For a few seconds longer, he lingered, hand poised over the light switch as he watched the spasms hit Alexei’s body. Shit, are we sick with the same thing? The thought was immediately shut down. Alexei had said his illness was not contagious.

Kellen stepped carefully into the bathroom. He caught Alexei’s shuddering side, then the fabric of the blindfold threatening to hang forward over his shoulder. He waited, watched as Alexei gagged emptily on the last spasms. Then lowered himself to the floor nearby as Alexei sat back.

“You okay?” Kellen whispered.

Alexei brushed the back of his hand slowly across his lips. “Yeah.” Also a whisper.

“You said you had meds somewhere?” Kellen asked quietly.

“Yeah, those pills I showed you,” Alexei responded.

Kellen frowned. “Wait, those general pain pills with the unlabeled bottle?”

“Sometimes, they don’t work,” Alexei whispered.

There was a moment of quiet.

“Alexei, how long has this been going on? The vomiting and whatever else comes with it?”

“Cramps.” Alexei’s voice drained out for several seconds. “I think the vomiting is caused by the cramps. I only throw up when I have cramps. But the nausea is just…on and off all the time, now…I have to wrap my ankles to keep the swelling down. I…I’m…”

“Is it some kind of autoimmune disease?” Kellen asked stiffly. He frowned. “Are you diabetic?”

“I don’t…” A weak smile lifted Alexei’s lips. “I don’t know…I don’t know what it is.”

“You should see a doctor,” Kellen decided immediately. He stood up.

Alexei caught his ankle. “Kellen.” A whisper. “No. I can’t…I can’t see a doctor. You know that. The same way…they didn’t let Blue see one. She was marked.” His hand lifted slowly to his chest, to the place where the barcode tattoo was.

Skyler. And then Kellen’s heart was racing. Throat dry, his lips parted. He drew a small, restricted inhale. “Is this the same thing Skyler had?”

Alexei was silent for five seconds. He moved finally, throat contracting like he was about to say something.

“The thing you said dancers die of? ” Kellen elaborated stiffly. “Are these the same symptoms Skyler had?”

Alexei sat there motionless, silent for almost too long. Then: “I just need to see this deal through.”

Kellen bit his lip so hard, he tasted blood in his mouth. He glanced helplessly around the small bathroom. Lifted his hands, empty. “How—How much time do you have?”

Alexei’s face lowered. His fingers slipped against the fabric of his sweatpants. “The…last bit is pretty awful. People…start scratching their skin off. Have pain…in their bones, they can’t…can’t get rid of. They’re not really lucid. They’re just confused and disoriented and…scared.” He took a small breath. “They die within days after that starts. I have anywhere between a month or two to a few days, I guess.”

“Holy shit, Alexei.” And all Kellen could hear in the seconds of silence that followed was the throbbing of his own heartbeat. “I’ll take you to a doctor today, then.” He turned toward the doorway.

“Kellen, please.” Alexei swiped to catch his ankle again, but fell a few inches short. “Kellen, I can’t. I—I need to see this deal through. Please.” He shook his head, face suddenly strained. “They’ll know if I go to a doctor. I can’t—I can’t risk that.”

“You can finish the deal after extraction,” Kellen said stiffly. “I’ll talk to the guy in charge. You can give them everything else you have after extraction. After you see a doctor.”

“That’s not what I promised. I can’t risk that.” He was still shaking his head.

“Yes, you can.” Kellen started again for the door.

“I said—fucking— no, Kellen, fuck! ” Alexei snapped suddenly. He was sitting there rigid, motionless, when Kellen turned back. “ Fuck—! ” There was almost a sob in his voice, and he abruptly raised a hand to his lips. “God, you’re so fucking stubborn. Look at me. Look at me, Kellen.” His hand dropped back to his side. “It’s not that fucking bad, yet. I have time. Seventy percent of the time, I feel fine. Seventy percent. I can still do this. I can still fucking do this.”

Kellen stared at him for nine seconds. “If I found a doctor who could come to you, undercover as a customer or something, would that work?”

“Good luck finding a doctor who would do that,” Alexei whispered.

Kellen walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He lifted his Glock off the nightstand, checked the clip, then packed it back into his backpack. Ignoring the parade of notifications at the top of the screen, he looked at the time on his phone— 12:49 PM—then put on his shoes.

3 PM was the debrief with Evan.

* * * *

There was a sticky note on the door to Kellen’s motel unit when he returned to Greenroof for a shower and a change of clothes. “Please fucking call” was written in swift pen ink on yellow paper. The note didn’t need a signature.