Bam, bam, bam. "Hey, Greggory, let me in," Victor calls through the tiny window in the door. "Those cinnamon rolls aren't for me, they are for everyone. Winifred said you brought them in."
Greggory doesn't open the door but talks through the tiny window in it. "Yeah, I did, man. Go get seconds."
"She won't let me."
"Yes, she will. I wanted you to have more than the rest." My attention keeps splitting between Victor and the little screen that shows 10-year-olds pouring scalding-hot, liquid metal into various molds. The timer says 11:18 minutes left.
"I'll try."
"Good man, Victor." Greggory's smile melts off his face as he turns to me. "The sweet rolls will keep people busy for a little while, but we'll have to get out of here soon. Almost everyone is eating up front right now, but somebody will notice what's on the air eventually. Take a look at the outside window and figure out how we're going to escape when they try to break the door down."
I nod and run to the window. It unlatches easily, and I push the pane all the way up. It's bigger than the laundry chute that Avra and I escaped the complex through. There is a thick black screen covering the opening though. I punch it with my fist, hoping it will rip. It doesn't, my fist bounces back at me in an awkward way. I start scanning the desks around the room for scissors.
Bam, bam, bam. "Greggory, the boss said I have to get back in here. Let me in, man."
"No, Victor. I can't do that. I have to do something."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm showing people what happens every day in the Complex of Undesirables."
"What? You're going to get fired, man."
Greggory smiles through the window. "I'm already fired."
"What? You tricked me. Let me in!"
"No, sorry, man."
"I'm going to get Mr. Fronze."
My brother yells across the room, "Elira! Where is the tape at?"
I run to the little screen on the big machine. "It's the death doctor. He just gave a little kid a lethal injection. It says 6:55."
"Good. Five more minutes, and all the good stuff will have been seen."
Bam, bam, bam. "Greggory, open this door right now," his old boss commands.
"No, sir. I'm trying to make the world a better place for everyone."
"You will be put in solitary for this. Open the door now!" When Greggory quits responding, his old boss calls to Victor, "Call the peace officers. Tell them we have an emergency!"
Greggory's eyes are frantic. "Elira, where is the video now?"
"Henry Ricks just threw a couple of body bags in an unmarked grave. It shows 4:22 on the timer."
"Okay. I think we better go." My brother's voice is overtaken by the sound of something heavy hitting the door. It sounds like a mallet or maybe a small desk. The news anchors quit talking and are looking at us like they don't know what to do.
I give up on scissors and grab a pen to stab the window screen with. I rip a tiny hole with the pen and pull with all my might to make the hole bigger, big enough for us to get out. I grab the two picture frames from the box and jump out the window. When I look back, Greggory is hugging his bag of jerky and looking at me with eyes full of fear. "Come on! It's five feet down; It won't break your toes. Let's go!" The door to the live-feed room bursts open, and Greggory suddenly finds the motivation to fling himself through the window.
We sprint as fast as we can to Greggory's blue car. Peace officer cars with their lights blaring pull into both of the parking lot entrances to block the way as we reach the car. "Greggory! Get us out of here!"
My brother whips out of his parking space, swerves around a peace officer, plows over the landscaping rock and bushes, and flies onto the road. He takes off like the building is crashing down around us, but so does one of the peace officers. He is hot on our trail.
Chapter 19
Greggory starts off on the main road, but as soon as he gets the chance to turn off onto a country road, he does. The peace officer just follows us. Since that didn't work, we turn sharply to get back on the main road a few minutes later. The peace officer almost flips his car, but he stays on our trail. I lean over to check the speedometer. Greggory is going over 100 miles an hour. I have never gone this fast. "Um, Greggory, what if someone pulls out in front of us?" He doesn't answer me. This feels incredibly dangerous. I see the lights of Herrington ahead and when we reach them, he slows down slightly and starts turning in and out of little streets. "I'm scared, Greggory. What are we going to do?"
My brother's face is serious. "I thought this might happen. I know of an old-fashioned car wash that no one ever uses anymore. If I can lose this guy for a minute, I'll pull into there and take you to a secret basement room there where girls and I used to go and-talk."
I'm so nervous, I don't fully comprehend what he's saying. "Okay. I'm so glad you have a plan."
It's around 8:15 in the evening and it's getting dark. We turn down a road in the older part of town. Greggory turns off his headlights, which startles a gasp out of me. "Can you see where you're going?"
"Yeah, no sweat. I know this place like the back of my hand." We pull into an old building with long, black plastic strips hanging in the garage door. I guess this is the car wash that no one uses anymore?
Greggory turns off the car and opens his door. "Be quiet as a mouse and follow me." I shut my door as softly as I can and follow my brother to some dark, creepy-looking steps. When we get to the bottom, Greggory has to use his shoulder to get the old, rusty-hinged door to open.
Darkness and spider webs greet us. I jump as a long string of web lands in my hair. "There is a light switch here somewhere." My brother feels along the wall until he finds it. A dim light bulb hanging from the center of the room gives us just enough light to take in our surroundings. The room that opens up to us is dusty, spider webby, and full of old, mismatched furniture. The rickety wooden table to the right is covered in dusty, glass bottles.
Greggory chuckles to himself. "It looks exactly the same as we left it after our graduation party."
"Who's we?"
"My friend Jack and I used to hang out here all the time. His parents own this place. We'd bring girls, snacks, and-beverages down here after school. His parents didn't care. It looks like they still don't care. We'll be safe here."
I shudder as I look at the footprints my feet left in the dust. "How long should we wait before we go home?"
My brother doesn't look me in the eyes. "Uh, I'm a little bit worried that my bad publicity just got worse. I'll probably have to camp out here for a while."
I wish we had thought this through before now. "What about me? Garth is expecting me. Mom is too, for that matter."
He puts a hand on each of my shoulders. "I bet their house will be swarming with peace officers tonight. We better just spend the night here." He feels my shoulders slump. "I'm sorry, sis. If I hadn't been fired, it would have taken longer for them to realize that it was me who did it."
I sigh as I notice a queen-sized bed in the corner of the room. It's covered in dust, but it looks comfortable enough. "I call the open side of the bed."
"You can have the whole thing. I'll sleep on the couch." Greggory hurries to the bed and pulls off the covers and sheets, revealing a discolored mattress underneath. "I-uh, I mean, you-uh, don't want to sleep on this bedding."
I feel my frustration rising to the surface. "I don't want to sit at the table covered in an inch of dust and beer bottles either, but what choice do I have? This is the ghost of your party days; no surface is clean in here."
My brother takes my hand and forces me to look at him. "Hey, let's take a step back and be thankful that the peace officer didn't just get us. You were this close to going back to the complex tonight." He shows me a tiny space between his thumb and pointer finger. "This used to be a place of-unsavo
ry things, but if we clean it up, it can be quite cozy."
I take a deep breath and let it out. "Is there anything we can clean with, so I can at least sit down without dust sticking to me?"
Greggory nods. "This is a car wash. I'm sure there is a box or two of soap and rags around here somewhere." He walks over to a corner filled with boxes, and rips a few open. "See! Rags, sponges, drop cloths, and what do you know? Gallons of spot-free rinse! If it can get bug guts off cars, it can get dust and grime off things too."
I pull an industrial-sized garbage can to the table and sweep all of the empty glass bottles into it. The clanging and breaking of glass is louder than I expected it to be. "Oops."
Greggory stops my hand from reaching more bottles. "We better keep it quiet. That peace officer will be scouring the neighborhood for a while, I'm sure."
"You're right. Sorry." I place the rest of the bottles into the garbage can one by one. "I'm really thirsty. Is it okay if we open that case of bottled water over there?"
"Go for it. Jack's parents have probably forgotten that this storage room even exists."
I smile for the first time in hours. "Perfect." I rip a bottle of water out of its packaging and guzzle half of it down. It really doesn't taste too bad. I pour the other half of the bottle onto a car-wash-sized rag and sponge. The gallon jug of car soap takes some muscle to open, but I drizzle a little bit of that onto the sponge too. I wash the table and hard wooden chairs down so there isn't a speck of dust or dried-on alcohol anywhere. I move on to the old-fashioned fridge, television, and rocking chair after that.
Greggory has pulled everything off the bed and removed a nasty looking blanket off the couch. "I am going to cover all the soft surfaces with those white drop cloths, and I have a blanket in the back of my car. I'll go get it."
My brother is a pretty resourceful guy. When he comes back, I ask, "Why do you keep a blanket in the back of your car?"
"You never know when you might-need it."
"Do you think this old television works?" I ask as I wipe it off.
"Yeah, at least it did three years ago."
I twist an old-fashioned dial from 'off' to 'on'; the screen lights up, but there's no sound and it's all fuzzy. I fidget with the buttons and knobs until I get the national news station; it must be the one station everyone gets, no matter how poor or old-fashioned they are. I am not surprised to see Greggory's face on the screen. I turn up the volume to hear what they are saying about him.
The news reporter looks distressed. "The interruption in our regular broadcast tonight was perpetrated by this man, a former employee of this news station, Greggory Hamble, who is also the drug addict brother of our newly elected senator, Brock Hamble. John, does all of this seem like a coincidence to you?"
Greggory places two white drop cloths on the dusty couch, so we can sit down as we watch. "No, Phil. I don't think this is a coincidence. Brock Hamble wins his election by the skin of his teeth yesterday, gets sworn in this morning, and tonight his brother, Greggory, puts a video of never-before-seen footage of the inside of the Complex of Undesirables on national news as he is cleaning out his desk. That doesn't seem like a coincidence at all. What about the teenage girl who helped Greggory? Do you have a picture of her? I believe we do, Phil. Yes, here she is. The receptionist said that Hamble claimed she was his cousin, Edith. We have an investigative reporter looking into her. I guess the question is, did Greggory Hamble do this on his own, or is the whole Hamble family plotting something? They did lose a daughter, Elira, to the complex 14 years ago, and she is one of the complex escapees from-wait a minute, Phil, can we bring the picture of Greggory Hamble's accomplice back up? Yes. Here she is, John. You know, she kind of looks like the rest of the Hambles; I'm just going to voice this out loud without thinking about it too much first. Is it possible that the young woman we are looking at is in fact-Elira Hamble, the complex escapee?" The news anchors go silent for a moment; so do Greggory and I.
Greggory pounds a fist onto the arm of the sofa. "This is just great. I don't think we'll be able to go home anytime soon, Elira."
My longing for Garth and Avra is not going to be satisfied tonight. I have calmed down enough to realize what needs to happen. "I guess we should just stay here for a while. I just hope everyone is in the bunker before the peace officers take over our house."
My brother's eyes look far away. "Poor Avra. She can't even walk yet. Now she's going to be trapped in that dark room for who knows how long."
I jump to my feet. "We only have minutes before our parents are under constant surveillance. Is there any way to call them and tell them we're safe and secure?"
Greggory scratches the back of his head in an agitated way. "Yeah. Well, maybe. There used to be an ancient telephone in the roll-top desk over there. If they are still paying the power bill on this place, they might be paying the telephone bill too."
We rush to the little desk and roll the top up. An olive-green telephone with a huge dial full of holes under the receiver looks back at us. I pick the receiver up and listen for a dial-tone. Nothing but silence fills my ear. "Oh no. It doesn't work."
Greggory picks the telephone up and points to the bottom of it. "No cords. It isn't plugged into the wall. Do you see a cord anywhere?"
I frantically stack all the books and papers scattered on the desk into a neat pile on the rocking chair that I just cleaned. When I pick up a spiral-bound notebook that has 'Greggory Hamble, English,' scrawled on the front of it, I find a gray cord wound into a bundle underneath it. "Here's a cord!"
"Yes. This is a phone cord." Greggory plugs one end of the cord into the ancient phone and then traces his hand along the wall behind the desk until he finds a small square hole in it. I hold the receiver to my ear, praying that I'll hear something soon. As soon as he plugs the cord into the wall, I hear a dial tone.
I jump up and down. "Greggory! It works! Help me call home."
"You're lucky that I'm so full of useless information, Elira. Stick your finger in the hole on the dial of the number you want and spin your finger clockwise until it won't go any farther. Pull your finger out once that happens; the dial will spin back to where it started. Then do it again for the next digit in the phone number."
"Okay." My finger shakes as I dial. Greggory places his hand over mine so I don't mess up. Somehow, I get it right on the first try. I hear the phone on the other end ringing.
"Hello?" My mother's voice reveals that has been crying.
I wonder if the peace officers are already there. "Mrs. Hamble, are there extra eyes and ears with you?"
"No. Elira, where are you? Garth said you went with Greggory, and now I'm watching the two of you on the news. Our cover is blown. Two peace officers just pulled up to the house, and I don't think they'll leave anytime soon. Your friends can't leave the bunker, and you better not come home. Are you safe?"
"Yes, Greggory and I are hiding in the storage room of an old car wash. We're safe and secure." I hear a ding dong in the background. Our privacy has just ended for who knows how long.
"I love you both. Good job getting the video on the air. Don't come home; I'll get a hold of you again when it's safe. Take care of yourselves. Bye."
"Bye, Mom. I love you." Click.
I turn to look at my brother. "The peace officers arrived as we were talking. What will they do to them?"
Greggory takes the phone out of my shaking hand and hangs it up. He leads me to the couch and sits me next to him. "They'll be interrogated, but the peace officers won't hurt them. They'll figure out the truth about you whether Mom and Dad talk or not."
"Dad's hands are still healing from the last dumb thing I did. Are you sure they won't hurt him?"
Greggory shakes his head. "They'll be fined and watched 24/7."
"What about my friends?"
"They will have to live in the b
unker now. I just hope they have a bucket in there to pee in."
I cover my face with my hands. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. We were hiding so well."
Greggory's eyebrows crease with frustration. "I know. I'm sorry. It seems like my fault. First the picture of me buying..."
"What we needed to save Avra's life."
He throws his hands in the air. "And then I get fired right as I need people to trust me at the news station."
I shake my head. "It's not your fault; we needed the sheol."
"I shouldn't have taken you with me. Now everyone knows your secret, and Mom and Dad are going to be watched and fined as accomplices to your breakout."
I lean back on the sofa in defeat. "It's like all of our hands got tied at the exact same time. I hope Brock is still able to move things forward alone. I kind of doubt he will do anything without us whispering in his ear though."
Greggory shrugs. "Yeah. He is just the smiling face of this rebellion, after all."
I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I wipe it away before any more can join it. "If we have to live here, I want the floor clean. If you sweep, I'll scrub it with sponges."
"Okay. Deal."
Wetness. My hands and knees are wet with soapy water, my armpits are wet with sweat, and my cheeks are wet with tears. I wish I could enjoy the wetness of a shower when I'm done, but there isn't one in this storage room. I just want to go home to my beautiful shower and soft bed, but I push that thought to the back of my mind as I scrub the nastiness off the floor. "What's in the fridge, Greggory?"
"You don't want to know. I'm throwing all of it away. At least it's cold. I'll scrub it down once I have it empty."
"Thank you."
"You're probably hungry. I'll bring in the bag of jerky from the car. I'll grab it when I'm done."
"Bring the pictures of our family too."
Greggory squeezes my shoulder as he walks past me to the garbage can. "Okay. They will make this place feel a little bit more like home."
The Complex Leader Page 10