Free Thornhill (Hemlock) by Kathleen Peacock Page A

the length of one wall or the two guards—a man and a woman—who watched us with detached boredom.
    The man was tall and lanky with a shock of red hair and pale skin. The woman had a gray crew cut and a body as square as a brick. Both looked like they’d rather be in bed.
    They weren’t the only ones.
    A woman with tortoiseshell glasses and a black blazer covered a yawn before telling us to hold out our left arms. I was so panicked at the thought of another blood test that I was almost relieved when the male guard stepped forward and snapped a three-inch-wide metal cuff around my wrist. A four-digit number was stamped on the front.
    “These ID bracelets are designed to expand and contract when your body shifts,” explained the woman in a voice as dry and uninterested as a desert wind. “Any attempt to remove them will trigger an automatic alert to the warden and security staff.”
    I ran my hand over the cuff. It was thick and there were seams halfway around, like someone had sliced it in two. The seams weren’t welded together, and when I tugged on the top half of the bracelet, I caught a glimpse of another circle of metal nestled inside.
    The glare the woman shot me was so sharp that I flinched. “I was just looking,” I said, quickly letting go. “I wasn’t trying to take it off.”
    She pursed her lips and handed Kyle and me each a clipboard. “Fill out these admission forms in the waiting room.”
    The guards ushered us through the door, down a hall, and into a long, narrow space that looked more like a holding pen than a waiting room. There were three doors—the one we had just come through and two at the far end—and the ceiling was so low that I could have touched it had I reached up and stretched.
    Every surface was painted a dull gray; the only color came from the teens who were sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the walls as they filled out admission forms.
    I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Serena, but she looked less than thrilled to see me. “Tell me she didn’t do what I think she did,” she said as the wolves next to her slid down to make room for Kyle and me.
    “Don’t get him started,” I said, eyeing the guards as they took up positions across the room. I lowered myself to the ground and dropped my gaze to the admission form. Seriously? I thought as I reached for a pen that had been tied to the clipboard. They kidnapped us and they’re worried we’re going to steal office supplies?
    I shook my head and focused on the questions.
    Full Name? Mackenzie . . . I racked my brain for a fake last name and somehow found myself writing down Walsh . Amy’s last name.
    Age? Seventeen.
    How old were you when you became infected? Did you have any health conditions prior to infection? Do you often feel weak and dizzy outside of shifts? How many times a month, on average, do you involuntarily shift?
    For most of the questions, I snuck glances at Kyle’s and Serena’s answers and just put down something in the middle.
    Just as I reached the last question, the woman with the glasses reappeared with the man who had collected our blood samples. They began taking clipboards, pausing a moment to scan each set of answers before moving to the next wolf.
    The woman’s brow creased in a frown as she glanced over Serena’s form.
    Apprehension fluttered in my stomach as she pulled one of the two guards—the man with the red hair—out into the hall.
    A moment later, they were back.
    The woman cleared her throat. “Serena, I need you to come with me.”
    Serena reached for my hand and squeezed so hard it was all I could do not to flinch. “Mac . . .” Her voice was a strained whisper.
    When she didn’t move right away, the guards started forward.
    Kyle pushed himself to his feet and stepped in front of us. “What do you want with her?”
    “We just need to ask her a few more questions,” said the woman with the glasses.
    I peered around Kyle’s legs. The woman’s tone had been