She gripped the trolley’s metal handle, and the bowls on it clattered as she finally willed herself to take a few steps toward the door at the end of the corridor.

The Hive.

Her stomach contracted with the abrupt realization that it really was a hive. That’s what it had become over the past few weeks. There was a subtle, mysterious buzz of activity about the place, like a diligent insect preparing for metamorphosis. Agnes was sure of it, though she wouldn’t have been able to explain what was happening in there. She hadn’t said a word to anyone, not even the principal: he would have thought she was going mad.

She put her hand in the pocket of her uniform and her fingers found the coarse material of her hood. She took it out and pulled it over her head. A thin veil covered her face and eyes, obscuring the outside world. That was the rule.

She walked in.

The room was completely silent. A few embers from inside the large cast-iron stove near the door were emitting a pleasant warmth. There were forty cots in the room, arranged in four rows of ten. No names to mark them: only numbers.

There were no cries nor calls. Agnes knew what she would have seen if only she’d looked: blank, vacant gazes.

With one exception.

Now that she’d become accustomed to the silence, she could hear him kicking at the far end of the room, building his strength. He was preparing for something, although she couldn’t say what. Maybe she really was insane.

Her footsteps brought her closer to cot number 39.

Unlike the others, this subject was thriving. His eyes, which were so unusual, were alert and darted about following her movements. Agnes knew that the subject was seeking out her eyes behind the veil of her hood, but she kept looking away, embarrassed. Subject 39 shouldn’t have been aware of her presence, and yet . . .

She checked to make sure that no member of staff was looking through the door, and then she extended a finger. The subject bit it, squeezing her flesh tight between its gums. The expression in its eyes was different now, electric. Agnes pulled back, cursing, and it let out a short, anxious moan.

That’s its true nature, she thought. A carnivore.

What happened next convinced her that she could no longer keep her suspicions private: the cots next to number 39 were no longer quiet. The other subjects’ breathing had turned agitated, as if they were responding to a call.

The Hive was buzzing.

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TODAY