Tribe (Tribe 1) Read Online Free

instructed us to use, in the case of an emergency.
    “Should I call 911? Or is there someone else here at the event who I can call?”
    “No! No, uh, that’s not necessary. If I called an ambulance every time my blood sugar got too high or low, my parents would be in the poorhouse.” I chuckled. Then I leaned more heavily against the wall, for emphasis. “I just need to get to the bathroom so I can inject my insulin. I’d rather not embarrass myself any more by collapsing, or having to do it here in the hallway. Could you just help me into the bathroom, so I can have some privacy? I’m a little woozy.”
    “Of course. Poor thing.” The woman put her arm around me, and led me to the bathroom she had just left moments before. “My sister has diabetes, it’s a real pain. She has to take insulin twice a day.”
    “Tell me about it,” I said. “I don’t even like telling people. I feel like an oddball. Speaking of which, is there a way to lock the door? I would never live it down if someone walked in on me while I had my skirt up, injecting myself.”
    “Um…” she eyed the door, probably wondering if she’d get into trouble. “Sure, as long as we’re quick. I’d hate for people to complain. I mean, they’d be complaining to me, anyway, since I’m the kitchen manager, but it’s a charity event, so I want to make sure things run smoothly for them.” She walked over and turned the lock on the door.
    “Can anyone else unlock it from the outside?”
    She shook her head. “Only me and the site manager, and he’s not here for evening events.”
    “Good.” I took a step toward the sinks, and then faked a stumble. The woman reached out to catch me.
    “Wow, I guess I’m worse than I thought. I really shouldn’t have had that punch.”
    I laid my hand on the woman’s shoulder, and talked in a soothing voice, making direct eye contact. “Thank you so much for helping me. You’re a kind woman. You look a little sleepy. You should sit down for a moment.”
    The woman straightened, releasing my elbow, her eyes glassy. “I should?” All expression melted away from her face, leaving only a blank stare.
    “Yes, you look like you might faint. Sit down over here, you’ll feel good if you sit down.” My voice was peaceful and melodic, and the woman cooperated. I led her to a scuffed wooden chair in the corner of the run-down bathroom, and eased her into a sitting position.
    I knelt before the woman and opened my purse, pulling out what looked like an insulin kit. But it contained a small scalpel inside a hard plastic case, a crisp white handkerchief, some Band-Aids, some sealed gauze pads, and several packets of sanitizing wipes. I took out the handkerchief and spread it on the floor beside me, then removed the scalpel from its case, setting the lid and the case on the handkerchief, alongside the faux insulin kit.
    “Let me see your hand,” I said gently to the woman.
    “My hand?” The woman’s voice was soft and dreamy.
    I could feel her state of complete relaxation, and that eased my own anxiety. But I could hear each beat of her heart, and the rushing of her blood in my ears.
    Saliva pooled in my mouth.
    “Yes, your hand. I’m going to check your pulse, to make sure you’re feeling better.” I took the woman’s hand as it was offered, and held it, palm up. I held my free hand over the woman’s wrist for a few seconds, giving her a short blast of energy to minimize the pain I was about to inflict.
    The hand holding the scalpel shook. It was hard to believe that as weak as I felt, I was still a danger to so many people. But I knew not to let the trembling fool me into thinking that I wouldn’t transform into the monster that lurked within. Not after all the stories Mom had told me.
    I steeled my nerves, steadying my hand and reminding myself not to lose control. Losing control meant the death of dozens of innocent people.
    I am in control. I take only what I need. I am in control…
    I held my