I narrowed my eyes, readying myself to yell at him. Why the fuck did he feel the need to tell people shit about me? I sat up in my tent, knocking over my pile of books in the process. The tent wasn’t quite tall enough for me to actually sit up in, so I ended up half-sitting up with a face full of bright yellow fabric. I tried to shove the material aside, but failed, almost knocking down the entire tent instead.
Unsurprisingly, my dad heard my wrestling match. “Oh, I think she’s up.”
“Can’t you people talk on the other side of the room?” I yelled through a mouth full of tent fabric. I threw on some jeans, which was a battle in itself inside the tent, and then wriggled my way out of it. Along the way, my foot caught one of the pole’s ends and snapped it into two. The entire thing collapsed on my head. Apparently, my tent had to get the last word in.
I shoved it off me, throwing it into a defeated pile. I readied a glare for my dad and David, but they had both disappeared. “Geez, how fast can a shuffling guy with a cane go?” I grumbled. I stood up and poured myself a cup of coffee. I could already tell this was going to be a crappy day.
An hour later, I sat next to the remains of my poor tent, still nursing my coffee. When I was younger I never even liked the stuff. Somehow as I grew older, and chicken fryers and tube feedings inserted themselves into my daily routine, I developed a need for a quick caffeine fix. The present situation requires lots of caffeine, I noted, watching as Charles, Julie, and Han ran circles around me.
My mind kept drifting back to the previous night and Matt’s and my shouting match. His last words chucked my self-confidence into a meat grinder. “Fuck that,” I finally mumbled to myself.
I stood and went to find Naomi. My fists were balled at my sides, my strides determined. Naomi and Donna were organizing the food supplies.
“Oh, hi, Sam,” Naomi said absentmindedly. “You’re up early. Want something to eat?” She then noticed the stony features etched on my face. “Are you…okay, honey?”
“Naomi, do we have a butcher knife or something in here?” I asked. “Ice pick maybe? A crowbar? How about a shovel or large spoon?”
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“Do we?”
“I…let me see.” She turned away from me and rummaged inside a box we used to store silverware and utensils. “Here’s a sharp knife. It’s really not that sharp, though.” She poked the edge of the blade lightly and tossed me a wary glance.
“That’s fine.”
She went back to the box. “Soup ladle. Why would there be a crowbar in here?”
“Forget it, I’ll look.” I took the ladle and knife from her, and then shoved her aside gently. I began rummaging through the box myself, pulling out a wooden spoon and an ice pick.
“What on Earth you up to, Sam?”
“Finding a hard way out.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together even tighter. She shared a confused glance with Donna, and her daughter shrugged in response.
I set the box down, satisfied with my findings. “Where’s that garden trowel of yours?” I asked.
“In my bag…”
“Get it for me?”
She searched my face for some sort of revelation as to what was going on in my head then sighed and fetched me the trowel. As she handed it to me she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t do anything you might regret later,” she warned.
My eyes met her concerned gaze, and I reassured her with a quick smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill someone.”
She gave me a weak chuckle. “Okay then, hon.”
“May the Force of the trowel be with me!” I said, raising it up to the ceiling like it was a light saber.
She laughed for real this time.
I left the food pantry with my tools and grabbed my coffee cup. I searched the walls around the room, tools in one arm, cup in the other. I tried to find any loose spots in the stucco with my bare toe. Around the double doors and the metal plate, the walls were sealed shut and completely solid. But in a building as old as this, there had to be a corner where the stucco was deteriorating.
Finally I found it. It was perpendicular to the wall with the double doors. I kicked the corner, and a small white piece of stucco fell on my foot. I sat down on the ground with my tools and went to work.
About two hours later, Naomi appeared behind me. I was so focused on my project, I hadn’t noticed her approaching. She eyed my handiwork. “You know, I think everyone’s scared to come over and find out what the hell you’re up to.”
I stabbed the stucco repeatedly with an ice pick. It was stubborn shit. I’d only managed to get a chunk about the size of lemon out of the wall, and the hole didn’t go all the way through to the other side. Metal piping blocked my way. I was now trying to find a way around the piping. I was covered from head to foot in white powder, and more powder and chunks of stucco littered the floor like the remnants of a winter snowstorm.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked between stabs.
“Trying to break us out of here?”
“Something like that. If people are convinced I can’t do shit, and I can’t take action, and can’t do anything mildly difficu—”
I was cut short as Naomi clamped a hand down on my shoulder forcefully. I stopped stabbing and looked up at her, ice pick in hand.
“You stop right there. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re way too young to be going through this shit.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I raised an eyebrow at her. The hand that held the ice pick shook.
“No. But you’re taking this way outta proportion. Matt was just being an ass.”
“He’s always an ass. That’s nothing new.” I turned away from her and continued stabbing. At least my hand didn’t shake when it had something to do.
She moved her hand off my shoulder. “You sure you’re not a teenager still? Because you sure are acting like one.” She left my side, taking brisk strides. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way across the gym.
I turned my focus back to my project. It was a satisfying feeling, focusing on something so simple and physical. I didn’t have time to think about anything else, just the steady thwack, thwack, thwack of my ice pick. Every now and then I’d switch to the knife. I used the trowel and wooden spoon to dig out stubborn stucco chunks that got in my way.
Eventually, I found the edge of the pipe and continued my way through the wall where it ended. My hand and arm ached. I had tried switching hands, but I was fairly useless with my left hand. The stucco pieces covered me, and I kept sneezing from the dust and debris, but I didn’t stop.
David joined me at some point, asking if he could be of any help. I sent him away. He left easily, without much of a fuss.
Time passed as I stabbed. And scooped. And hacked at the wall. I wasn’t sure how much time. It didn’t really matter—I had no place to go, nothing better to do. My dad brought me a peanut butter sandwich and left it by my side without saying a word. He probably figured I was angry at him, and he was partially right. I was angry, but the portion of me that was angry at him was relatively small. I was angrier with myself.
I ignored the sandwich and kept going. Eventually, it became a peanut butter and stucco sandwich. Simon came and sauntered around me at some point, but I think I frightened him away with all the racket I was making, and he took off shortly after.
Matt appeared behind me some time after Simon left. His feet shuffled noisily. He hadn’t even talked to me since our fight. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” he told me, his voice low. “I was pissed off at being stuck here, and I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I said nothing to him and kept piercing the stucco.
He tried again. “You aren’t chicken shit, Sam. Really.”
He shuffled his feet again, waiting for a response. I refused to offer him one. I guessed that my father had put him up to apologizing.
“Leave me alone,” I said, my voice displaying no emotio
n.
He begrudgingly did so. I heard him shuffle all the way to the other side of the room, wrestle with his tent to get it open, and zip it closed.
After more time passed, the shadows began to deepen around me, and I set down my tools, stretched my aching hand, and stared at my gaping hole. It was a fairly decent size now. I knew I was close to the other side. I had to be. They couldn’t make these walls that thick, could they?
I took a deep breath, rolled my stiff shoulders, and grabbed the trowel. I shoved it into the deepest part of the hole, pushing it with all my strength. I heard a satisfying creak which I assumed meant I had cracked the surface on the other side. What was on the other side? I hoped the hole led to the locker room or showers—somewhere that was safe from the poisonous gases swimming through Frisco’s air, yet a place we could make an escape to. Or start an attack from.
I removed another piece of stucco, and then peered into the hole. A solid white covering of some sort was on the other side of the hole. I banged it with the trowel. A dull thud echoed. The force vibrated through the handle. I took my knife to it, and found that I couldn’t carve into the material at all. It was as smooth as metal, and the knife blade just slid across it like it was an ice rink.
“What the hell is this shit?” I murmured, dropping the knife on the floor with a noisy clatter. I grabbed the ice pick and started jabbing the material with it. Nothing. It didn’t even make a dent. I peered into the hole again.
“What’d you find?” a voice asked. David’s. He tried to look into the hole from behind my shoulder.
I scooted out of the way for him. “It’s this white crap again,” I told him, realizing I was out of breath. I took a few deep breaths and wiped a thin layer of sweat off my brow.
He knelt down to take a closer look. “Yeah, it looks like the same sealant they used to seal the double doors and the metal hatch.”
“How the hell did they know I’d choose this one spot to dig out?” I exclaimed.
“Actually…” He put one slender arm in the hole and felt around. “It seems like there’s a whole sheet of it covering this entire wall. There’s no way we’ll get through this without some serious alien power tools. This stuff’s amazing. We could make a fortune marketing it here on Earth.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Let’s advertise it on the home improvement channel. Do-it-yourself alien goop!” I picked up the trowel and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a thwack, stucco powder flying behind it like smoke from an exhaust.
Naomi was near the wall the trowel flew into. “Sam!” she gasped. “Don’t take your anger out on us! And you are finished with my trowel!” She glared at me, her eyes glinting with fiery anger. She stormed over to the trowel, grabbed it, and stormed back to her bench, where she had been knitting with Donna and some of the other women. “Charles is acting more mature than you are right now!” She shot me one final glare before she went back to her scarf. “And I am not cleaning up that mess of white crap you made!”
I grumbled and then noticed David staring up at me from his kneeling position. “Thanks, David,” I murmured. “You can leave me be. I’ll clean up this…mess.”
He stood up slowly, thumbing his mustache as he searched for words. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “You know,” he said, “it’s okay that you tried this. I’m glad, honestly. Now we further know what we’re up against.” He paused for a moment, eyes still on me. “I had my test of patience. This is yours. What isn’t okay is if you continue shutting everyone out afterward.” He walked away slowly, letting me absorb his words.
Chapter 10
I still hadn’t cleaned up my mess. My back was slumped against the wall in the same spot David had left me. I was surrounded by the pathetic hunks of stucco, and I knew they covered me like ash from a war zone. It was kind of itchy, but I didn’t bother sweeping myself off. It was like being inside a dust storm.
Night had fallen. Shining smudges of lantern light bobbed around the room as my fellow captives went about their business. I could barely see the stucco hunks now, but I still stared at them. I think I expected them to melt.
A lit-up lantern bobbed its way to me in the midst of the shadows and my stucco-storm. I couldn’t tell who it belonged to; all I could see was a silhouette heading toward me. It wasn’t a tall silhouette, and it seemed distinctly feminine somehow. I blinked at it. Maybe I was seeing things.
The silhouette slowly grew features. It held a cardboard box as well as the bobbing lantern. I saw a red sweatshirt with feminine curves flowing underneath. Dark hair and green eyes. I blinked. Kisana.
She stopped in front of me, placing the lantern on the floor between us. “Would you like some soup, Sam?” she asked. A smile played on her lips through the lantern light. It was a warm smile, unafraid.
“Sure,” I said, gazing up at her. Her smile mesmerized me. I blinked again. Why haven’t I noticed it before? “Have a seat?”
She began pushing aside stucco clumps with the toe of one sneaker. “I wish it was something homemade, but it’s just canned minestrone,” she said apologetically.
“I…uh…let me help,” I stammered, shoving away piles of stucco in an attempt to make her a clean spot to sit down in. The stucco clumps that were on my arms and shirt fell onto the clean spot. “Dang, sorry.” I shoved them aside, and then gazed back up at her sheepishly. “Minestrone’s great. Please, join me. Maybe my mess won’t attack you now.”
She laughed softly as she joined me on the ground. Cross-legged, like me. She handed me a steaming bowl from the box she carried then a spoon and a couple small packages of crackers.
I took the soup bowl gratefully and crumbled a few crackers into it. “Thank you so much,” I said. “It may only be from a can, but it sure smells heavenly.”
“Well, you’ve only been over here by yourself all day—I’d imagine anything would.” She rummaged in the box and brought out a couple of candles. She moved the lantern to her side and lit the candles between us. They flickered, lighting up the soft features of her face, including a pair of faint dimples I hadn’t noticed before.
I lowered my eyes in embarrassment. “I guess I had a bad day,” I said, taking a spoonful of soup and blowing on it.
“I can tell,” she said, smiling. “Yesterday didn’t seem the best for you, either. But that’s all right. Bad days are…expected under these circumstances.”
I couldn’t help but return the smile. She had this way of speaking that soothed me, made me forget why I was so pissed off. I deemed the soup cool enough and began eating. I’d been so focused on my stupid anger, I’d neglected to notice how hungry I was. “Mmm, this is great.”
Kisana laughed, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “I had some earlier. It wasn’t that great, but I am pretty picky.” She looked at me shyly all of the sudden, probably wondering if I remembered what she’d said about herself the other day.
“You’re certainly allowed to be; you’re studying to be a chef.” The smile returned to her face as she nodded, the shyness edging away again. She was a shy girl, I could tell, but not as shy as I had originally thought. I’d been yearning to talk with her for weeks now, but I felt uncomfortable approaching with her family nearby. I think I was worried that she thought David, Naomi, Matt, Bruce, and me to be a bunch of crazies. Which we were. At least I was, according to the mess around me.
“So, I have to admit,” I said, “it feels like everyone’s been avoiding me all day. I guess I seemed pretty retarded. But yet, here you are.”
She laughed again. “Not retarded. Just dealing with issues. And why I came over here? It looked like you needed a friend. Most everyone’s either much older or younger than us, so why not get to know one another? You and I haven’t talked much, but I figured now might be a good time. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, though.”
“Thanks, Kisana. I appreciate it.” I smiled. She was receptive. “I really could use a friend. And I’m sure you’ve he
ard all of my troubles already, between my loud-mouthed father, David, and super loud-mouthed Matt.”
“I did hear some parts. Hard not to here. But it seems like your father does care about you, even though his means are…unique.” She reached into her box and pulled out two cans of Coke. She handed me one.
“Where’d those come from?” I exclaimed. “All the mothers and grandmothers were up in arms that we couldn’t have soda because we have so many kids now!”
“I snuck it on the list at the last second and grabbed the six-pack before anyone saw me.” She smiled at me, popping open her can. She raised it to me in a toast. I did the same, and we clinked cans. “To one day finding freedom,” she said.
“To one day finding freedom!” I took a thirsty gulp and then remembered where we were in our conversation. “But yeah, he does care about me, I know. I just lose my patience with him so damn easily. Matt’s just as bad. It pisses me off that he’s even here.”
“Naomi was right about him; he is an ass. But he’s also young. You shouldn’t have let what he said get to you, if you don’t mind me saying. You clearly were in the lead up to that point. But I do sense there’s more to the story.”
I nodded as I finished up my soup. “I don’t know what happened to me, really. It’s like something just shut down inside me. Well, no…” I set my bowl down and frowned. My eyes met hers slowly. “I do know; it’s just a stupid, long story.”
“I’d be interested to hear it if you feel like telling me,” Kisana said. Her voice was almost a whisper. “We have time.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, my father was always kind of stupid when it came to raising daughters. I knew he wished I’d been born a boy. He was an alcoholic, used to talk shit about my mother when he was drunk. He treated her like shit after she went blind, but she didn’t divorce him until I was in high school. I grew up pretty pissed off at him. In high school, I used to tell him how I was planning to go to college and become something great—at the time I wanted to major in geology. He told me that geology was a good specialty for me, and it was good I didn’t choose something like medicine or law because I was of just average intelligence. He always thought he was so smart. My best friend was with us for that conversation, and she was appalled. But for me, you know, that was just normal.”
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