“What?” Raj winces, watching me work through things.
But I can’t give away my plan. To find him—whoever he is—and get the secret; and find out how he was able to leave without being dragged back. For now—right now—I’ll have to stay put. Endure this until I’m able to do something about it. But if I’m going to stay, I’ll need to know more about how this whole system works.
“Raj… I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
I draw her in close, whispering into her ear again, “I need you to point out the Clans. Who’re the big players?”
“But you can’t—”
“I’m not going to talk to them. Just want to know who they are.”
“I…”
“You know, don’t you? Tell me. You’ve got to tell me.”
“Um…” her eyes shift nervously before finding mine again. “Okay, but you cannot talk to them. I’m serious. They’re just as bad as the Dofinikes if they feel threatened.”
“Then… think of it as warning me who not to bother.”
“Okay.”
She links her arm in mine as we casually meander. She’s quiet for a few minutes, just as we reach the North Wall and then she leans into my ear with a whisper. “A lot of them aren’t here. They’re mostly in the Maze.”
“Do you see anyone?”
“A few Scouts. Low level.”
We continue around the Auditorium, completing a near lap until we pause by the Southwest wall. Raj motions ahead, keeping her voice to a low mumble. “That’s him.”
“Who?”
She gestures again before turning toward my shoulder, “Straight ahead. Light brown hair. Blue eyes. That’s Tucker—the Rogue’s Leader.”
I follow her gaze and pinpoint the candidate. Tall and muscular, he falls in with everyone else, donning the same well-fitted scratchy blue scrubs. But instead of dancing along with the amorous crowd, he hovers close to the West Wall, arms crossed as he listens to three guys all attempt to explain something at once.
“Rogues,” Raj whispers.
“And you can’t approach them?”
“No!” she squeezes her arm with mine, speaking into my shoulder again. “I told you. It’s suicide. We’re probably being watched right now, watching them. Come on,” she directs us through the entanglement of bodies grinding together around the iridescent trunk in the center of the room. Once we’re through and Tucker and the Rogues are no longer visible, she slows.
“Okay,” I recap, “so no approaching Clans.”
“And oh!” her eyes flare, “same goes for Rox. But, like, a thousand fold.”
“Who’s Rox?”
“The one who’s really in charge. You want your Kingpin, that’s him. Tucker is the Rogues’ Leader, but he reports to Rox.”
“So… is Rox in charge of both Clans?”
Raj shakes her head. “Just the Rogues. But he’s lethal.”
“Okay…well where is he? What does he look like?”
“He’s normally not here during Leisure time. Probably in the Maze.”
“If you find him, point him out.”
“Will do,” she nods, “and with Grisham too. He’s the Kings’ Leader.”
I can’t believe I came to Leisure Time expecting to get an inch of information and came away with the whole damn dictionary. I guess it’s good though. Better. I need to know everything I can. It’s the only way to survive before I can leave again. And I will. Once I find him and I know his secret, I’m gone.
With no other purpose for being down here, I eye the closest stairwell. I’m about to head for it when I stop and turn to Raj. She didn’t have to tell me any of this. I could’ve been lost or barked up the wrong tree on accident. At least I’m somewhat the wiser. “Thanks, Raj.”
Her grin is the last thing I see before I dart up the obsidian steps and over the snaking Gizella roots. I dash past the hovering babeebs, eager to make my way to my bunker. That’s the plan. But once I reach the Courtyard, I slow. Chills race up my spine, my heart thumping in response to the eerie feeling suddenly overwhelming me. I scan the Courtyard. Few linger in conversations, some fondling each other while the rest make their way back for their rooms like me.
Then I see her—the one stagnant in a slow but steady stream. Younger than most—ten, maybe eleven—she clutches a rounded maroon something in her hand as she leans against one of the black tarantula trees. With her pensive hazel eyes locked on mine, she brings the food to her mouth for a deliberate bite, red juice spilling down her chin and onto her fitted blue top.
She wants me to see this.
The girl continually stares as she takes another bite, trying to figure something out. I give her one final look before heading up the fifteen flights to my bunker and once inside, I lock the latch, throwing myself onto the mattress of rags. My mind races itself into a frenzy as I drift away wondering about the taste of that red juice.
***
Rebuilding.
Could it get any worse than this? And with the gate so close… so alluring. I’m tempted. So tempted. But it’s not freedom. It’s a trap. I have to keep telling myself that. Over and over, otherwise, I’m bound to make a go at it.
Who knows how long I’ve been out here. It seems like forever. It could be two minutes. Could be two hours. Time doesn’t pass and I can’t stand the thought of this being the rest of my life. Pushing that thought from my mind, I decide it’s time for a break. I make for the ladder, climb out of the trench and head for the giant metal pole in the center of the lot.
A swarm of people already surround it, in need of a break like me. Its sizable width allows for multiple uses, so rows and rows of shiny blue buttons with small black squares cover the rounded metal surface. The squares dispense a cup and the buttons fill them with water. As I find a clearing and focus on a square close to eye level, a moving, hurried force knocks me off balance.
Him.
Instant relief fills me as all worries about never getting a second chance vanish. A quick dash and I’m at his side, following him back to the Gollops. “Clever.”
It takes a minute but he finally glances over and when he does, he remains silent, merely scanning me. We walk in silence and I wait for him to say something but he never does.
“Want to tell me how you got out there?”
“Not really.”
“Come on.”
His long strides take him far, fast, but I’m tall too. I can keep up. Except then he stops abruptly, leaning in. “Can you keep a secret?”
My heart skips. I mirror his stance, our faces inches apart, “Yes…”
“So can I,” he pulls back, walking away with a teasing grin. It takes a moment to realize he’s not telling me and that I’m still miles from the truth. But at least he’s talking. I’ve just got to keep him going.
“What’s your name?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Like to know who I’m talking to.”
“Or stalking?” he raises a brow.
“You’re the one who keeps knocking into me,” I scoff, “without an apology I might add.”
“Yet here you are.”
“It’s because you’re so dreamy,” I roll my eyes. “Look, I just want to know—”
“Nope.”
The vibrating Gollops sing over the gray ground as a dust cloud skirts past, polluting the air with cover. I’m losing time—I have to get it out of him now. Right now. Racing in front, I force him to stop and, surprisingly, he acquiesces. “You were me once,” I search his eyes for any friendly flame, any trace of humor. “Do yourself a favor.”
There’s no response to this, not even a flinch. It’s like he’s trying to decide what the right reaction should be… and then, the one he wants to give. He makes me wait an insanely long time until resuming livelihood with the start of an optimistic nod. But then, when he opens his mouth to what I hope will be the truth, he walks past me, wordless.
I’m at his side. “Wow, you’r
e hard on yourself.”
“And you’re aiming high. Now really, what do you want?”
“The pleasure of your company. Is that not obvious?”
“It’s not free,” he states as if it were some law I should be aware of. But after a second, when weakness gives way, he flashes me a look. Nothing much, just the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like the seed to an unborn smile. “But I understand the desire.”
“So…” I keep it hopeful, “you could make an exception?”
“I could…” he feigns thinking about it, “but no.”
“I’ll owe you,” I keep pace with him, although he’s making it extremely difficult.
“You can’t afford it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“So you know everything?”
“Pretty much.”
I slow to a stop. “God you’re vain.”
“Not vain,” he abruptly halts as well, crossing his arms, “honest. I’m losing time here, Fallon. Now what can I do for you?”
“So you get my name and I don’t get yours?”
He exhales as though I’m asking the world from him. “Reid,” he confesses after a minute. “You can call me Reid.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You have no idea.”
“Look…” I approach him, “…Reid. Not trying to impose. Just, help me out. I need to get out of here.”
“Yeah, you and everyone else.”
“So…” another step and this time his body goes rigid, “will you tell me?”
He exhales, seriously considering this time. I think I might have broken through his shield but then disappointment flexes in his guilt-stricken features. “Sorry,” he shakes his head, backing away. “Can’t.”
He leaves before I have a chance to respond, making his way for the Gollops with quick, confident strides. Now what am I supposed to do? I continue for the Water Pole, trying to strategize my next move when a shrill, deadening scream slices the air, silencing everything around us to an eerie halt.
Chapter Six: Secrets Revealed
I’ve never heard such a sound.
Like seeing one’s childhood nightmares appear. Watching them come for you, believing in that kind of evil, knowing it still exists. Terror. I know it. The feeling. Being stripped of your voice, of your ability and freedom to fight back. Of everything keeping you alive, keeping you human. But she fought. If only for a second. And we heard it, hanging in her scream, a warning cry to us all.
It’s real. It’s all real...
A dust cloud blows over and everyone has vanished. Even the Water Pole lies hidden beneath waves of the grey ash. They sweep from the trenches, skirting the matted, cracked dirt and separating us in billowing sheets. Footsteps draw nearer, slowly at first, just as silhouettes emerge through the veil. All drawn by instinct to the cry, they narrow their direction to me.
I’m about to tell them they’re mistaken—they’ve got the wrong girl—when a voice croaks behind me and I turn.
On the ground, just feet away, lies a girl no older than Raj, bound by air restraints, paralyzed on the ground. Her wrists lay cuffed on the small of her back, her bare feet just inches apart. So still she could be asleep, it’s the eyes you see first. The eyes that give it away.
They flash panic to each person approaching but no one steps any closer. It’s like a bubble of space has been drawn around her, commanding us to stop at the line. With every person pausing at the sight of her, her fear heightens.
Will no one help?
Finally, she sees me, targeting my face like a magnet. I want to—I want to so badly—but I can’t look away. She begs, pleads with me to help her. To do something. I’m her only chance. But what can I do? I don’t have any power. I’m only one person.
A tear escapes, gliding over her quivering nose and dripping to muddied blonde hair below. She holds my stare until six black talons crash into the dirt by her legs—the landing to a half mile’s thunderous leap. Her screaming eyes swell at the sight as the dust dissipates, revealing him like an illusion before us.
A real Dofinike.
The ones at the gate were so small, scurrying around like tiny bugs on a pole. Even Jeb hinted at their ineffectualness. But up close, just feet away, it’s different. He’s different.
And enormous.
Looming at seven—maybe eight—feet, he towers with wide, hardened shoulders and a jagged wooden staff sharpened at the tip to three metal points. Dark pine, his shelled body plates cover him like impenetrable armor with thin, lizard-like skin stretching over boulder-sized thighs and biceps. Whiskers cascade beneath his snout, under two center slits in his cratered, scaly face, but it’s the eyes you see first. Those yellow eyes that stop you in your tracks.
He glances to the girl before scanning the rest of us, a quickly growing crowd. With the dust gone, more people migrate closer, peaking over each other’s heads, trying to get a better look at the scene. The Dofinike sniffs and nearly everyone backs up, jetting behind one another. He grunts in a low, warning pitch which rolls into a breathy growl as steam pours from his nostrils, playing his whiskers like chimes. He scans us again. Each face. Each new human investigating the scene. There are so many of us but only one of him.
The girl’s terrified eyes find mine once more, begging for a last chance—any possible chance—of help. Can it still exist? She’s found her way here, demanded our attention, willed a crowd to gather at her defense and sent a message so transparent, the hairs on my neck and arms still stand. There’s got to be hope for her. It can’t end like this.
But the Dofinike jerks his hand back, a nearly invisible net springing around her and digging into her skin with semi-reflective cord. Her body tightens; all hope draining from her face. She knows like I do now—it’s futile. There is no help for her. She’s on her own, whatever that may mean.
With a final glare, the Dofinike turns, carving a tunnel through the silenced mob as he drags the girl along the ground and heads for the Castle. We all watch them go, our sights fixated on the pair as they grow smaller in the distance and before long, disappear completely.
“Hey…” Raj is suddenly at my side, joining the sudden circuit of whispers, “what happened to Hinson?”
“No idea.”
“That was strange… it was like she came out of nowhere.”
“From the Castle,” I say, still straining to watch the Dofinike disappear with his prize, “but why? Shouldn’t she have been out here?”
Raj follows my stare, considering the question. Yes, the girl should’ve been out here—I can see it on her face. So why was she dragged back inside?
“Did she try to escape?” I ask.
Another long stare at the disappearing pair. Finally, Raj shakes her head. “No.”
Suddenly, a second Dofinike, also in his natural form, scurries up the open path to the center of the mob, his long custard coat flapping. Smaller than the first, a long gash runs across his left eye, starting from the top of his head and slicing down to his neck. He greets us with a grin, contorting the scar into a sideways smile.
“Ergiloff,” Raj whispers in my ears as he approaches, “one of the scientists.”
All whispers stop as he lifts his hands in the air and speaks in a formal, nearly cautious tone, commanding the crowd.
“My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience,” his words echo, “we believe the girl consumed a very rare but poisonous berry. She was undergoing treatment when the berry poison caused her to spasm and flee the treatment center.”
More whispers are exchanged as all eyes fix on the scientist.
“Please,” he goes on, “don’t let this interfere with Rebuilding—continue on as normal. We will have her healed and back to you as soon as possible.” With this, the second Dofinike scuttles back in the direction he came, his custard coat and whiskers flapping in the breeze.
“Maybe that’s why she’s been throwing up every morning,” R
aj muses to herself, drowning in ponderous thoughts, “…but what kind of poisonous berries are there? I don’t remember seeing any berries in the Market…” she squints, trying to work something out.
I start to replay her words—something of interest sparked a review—but the sight of the scrambling Dofinike takes precedence, especially as the loose dirt his talons have kicked up creates a grey shield behind him.
“I’ll be back.” I start to follow Ergiloff, but Raj snatches my wrist.
“What’re you crazy?” She’s astonished I’d even consider it, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You can’t!”
“It’ll be fine,” I peel her fingers from me.
“But…”
“Real quick.”
I don’t bother waiting for a response, but set off after Ergiloff, hidden in the arms of his dusty trail. He’s fast. Faster than expected, like a lizard skirting across the hot desert floor. But I’m tall and fast as well. I follow him back to the Castle, to the open portcullis and he dashes through, into the Courtyard. Approaching the entrance, I pause, scanning for movement.
Nothing.
Closing my eyes, I clear the shadows in my head and listen. He has talons and everything is marble, stone. Sound is the ally here, not sight. There’ll be clinking. A clanking. Everything stills for a moment until a tat-tat-tat echoes up the stairwell to my immediate right.
Taking off in that direction, I fly up the stairs, leaping on the pads of my toes as quickly and quietly as possible. Up ten flights, my legs burn with each step until the tat-tat-tat grows louder and suddenly, abruptly, halts on the twelfth floor.
I pause, growing rigid. Closing my eyes again, I listen.
A whimper.
Waves of hissing vowels pour, igniting me with newfound fear. Holding my breath, I listen to the sudden snarls viciously launched. And then another whimper—human this time, and stronger. Like waking up again. Panicked breath breaks through and then there’s a scream—the same scream from outside. Only more frightened. More terrified than before.
A ringing shiver courses through me and I’m thankful they can’t hear it. Can’t hear my heart pounding away in my chest, screaming at me to run. To obey my natural instincts and fly from this place. But I’m frozen. Even if I wanted to, my legs wouldn’t allow it. They’re keeping me here, prisoner to the stairwell. The hissing continues with louder, sharper snarls and grunts, bits of human whimpering threading through. I have to know.
Escape from Harrizel Page 7