FLOOR 21

by Jason Luthor

  None of that was the point, though, and seriously, talking about Mom makes me depressed. My point was that my parents always told me that because I’m pretty smart, I’m supposed to end up working a smart job, too. The reason why is if you land a low job, like Security or Cleanup, they can move you down a floor. Or several. It doesn’t happen too often, but you hear about it once in a while. Allison’s family would’ve moved down if not for her Mom, ’cause that lady’s a Morale officer. Once in a while, she gives the Reception instead of Receiver Garry. Eh, she’s pretty good at it. Anyway, yeah, if I landed a low job, I’d have to get used to a smaller apartment and less food. So, Science is the department for me.

  I do think about scavenging, though. A lot. Like, badly. I want it so hard the little vein over my eyebrow pops when I think about it. But, whatever. People from Floor 4 and higher don’t get to scavenge.

  Actually, I take that back. There’s actually one guy that scavenges that was born on Floor 2. So, naturally, you’d think the guy would’ve been a Morale officer, right? Maybe a Receiver? But no, instead, he gets to scavenge, and he gets to keep his apartment on Floor 2. Sweet gig. Guy’s name is Judas Abbott, and as cool as it is that he’s a Scavenger from a high floor, the dude’s a total toolbox. I mean, I know he’s smart and strong and all that, but who cares if you’re just gonna walk around acting like you’re better than everyone else? Scavengers are supposed to inspire people. Not like Abbott has to, since it’s not like Floor 2 comes out to support the games or anything. Bunch of posers. Whatever. I guess that’s why Abbott doesn’t care about being friendly or inspiring. He’s just trying to hold onto his apartment. I said hello to him the other day, and you want to know what he said to me?

  “Felicitous greetings, citizen.”

  What the hell?

  Like I said.

  Toolbox.

  The worst part is that he’s a commander. He’s been doing this for years, doesn’t care about his score, and is an all-around prat. Whenever they announce his name at the games, the whole room gets depressed, as if you’ve just told everyone they’ve got three days to live. People get quiet for just as long as it takes to get Abbott’s name out of the way, then everyone immediately gets back to screaming as soon as the next Scavenger’s up.

  I hate Judas Abbott.

  You know who everyone really loves? Talk about a real commander. Vick McGill. Everyone loves Vick. Dude’s a few inches over six feet tall, actually not that built, but, you know, still pretty fit, plus it’s nice to find a guy that knows how to rock the bald look. He’s a little darker than me, but we’ve both got the same type of eyes. You know what I mean. Dark, like chocolate. Speaking of which, you know what’d be real nice of them to find on the next Scavenging? Some colored contact lenses.

  God. Yes, please.

  What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Vick. Now that’s a guy you want to scavenge with. I mean, right? Guy’s a hero. Nah, I take that back. Guy’s a legend. So get this. He was born on Floor 16. Sixteen. That’s, like, totally unbelievable. I mean, what? First of all, by that deep in the Tower, you’re pretty much ankle-deep in the Creep. That’s when you start getting daily hallucinations, so people that live that far down have to get used to seeing shadow men and Demons. Vick’s family was a tough bunch, though. All of them were Security members that made weekly rounds cleaning up the Creep, so even when he was young, Vick was used to being around that stuff.

  Which is why everyone says he’s mentally a tough egg. Word is that Vick doesn’t crack. He never panics and doesn’t hallucinate since he’s been raised in one of the most infested parts of the Tower. Since he couldn’t get a decent education, obviously, since all the classrooms are in the upper floors, he taught himself using whatever books and videos he could find. Tower Authority doesn’t give out as many treats to the lower levels, so even when he was young, Vick was scavenging to find stuff to educate himself with. Books, videos, whatever, if he could find a way to use it, he would. Life was hard for him, but he made a way. Living in the Creep, without enough food and not much to entertain himself with, I mean, of course, he wanted to become a Scavenger.

  Most people don’t volunteer for it in the first place, ’cause, I mean, it’s dangerous, duh. But the Creep’s a lot more intense on the lower levels, so obviously that’s why he joined, and he’s been doing it for six years now. Six. He’s going to be the first person to go seven years actively scavenging on a scavenging team. That’s amazing. That’s why he’s a commander. I mean, compare him to Abbott. Abbott’s been scavenging for ten years now, but you know how often he actually scavenges? Like, maybe twice a year. He prefers to “lead,” whatever that means. I guess Abbott thinks it’s his job to tell other Scavengers what to do while he stays safe.

  Whatever.

  Not Vick. Vick takes risks, and he’s always near the top of the scores. There are only three things guaranteed in the Tower: Death, the Creep, and Vick McGill. Guy’s sharp like a knife, too. Throw out some math problem, and he’ll pound it out like a hammer. Wow. That’s a real Scavenger.

  So, guess who led the last scavenging team? I’ll let you guess whether it was Abbott or McGill.

  If you guessed Abbott . . . dude, pay more attention.

  Who’s listening to this recording again?

  Recording Fifteen

  Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

  No. No. I’m not going to talk about this today.

  Recording Sixteen

  Okay, look, I have to say something about it. I’m going to go nuts if I don’t, and word is that Security’s cracking down on anyone talking about it, so I need to at least record it.

  Phew. Okay.

  Look.

  I’m just saying. All right, here’s how it happened.

  No. You know what? Screw it. I’ll just spit it out.

  Word is that someone on Floor 7 saw an Angel.

  I can’t . . . I’m going to freak out, man.

  Everyone knows about the Creep and the Darkness. You can’t get away from that stuff. Go down a few floors, and bam, there you go. Creep. Take a turn on rooftop duty and look over the edge. What do you see? Darkness, everywhere you go. Nobody in Tower Authority is trying to hide that stuff. They can’t. It’s there. We all know that. They’re a little less tolerant when people talk about Demons. I mean, what else are you supposed to call those things you see when you’re hallucinating off the Creep? Shadow people is the only other name I know, but whatevs, call them whatever you want. Point is, you know why you see them, and it’s because the Creep makes you see them. It’s toxic. It makes you trip. I can deal with that.

  But I can’t deal with Angels. I can’t. I can’t.

  I’m freaking out, man!

  Okay. Context. Talk it out, Jackie, you’re cool. You’re cool!

  I am not cool.

  I’ve never told anyone about this. You shouldn’t. You’re not supposed to. You’re just supposed to bury it deep down until you feel it pushing up out of your pores. If someone tries to talk to you about it, you ignore them. I mean, Security comes after anyone that says they saw an Angel. They come after anyone that even talks about them! So, even if you weren’t the one that saw one, you’re supposed to just ignore anyone that says they did.

  I think I’m calming down a bit. Deep breath, girl.

  Okay. I’d just turned sixteen. I was on Floor 5. It was . . . late. Not after curfew, but a lot of people’d already gone to bed.

  Jackie, why are you lying to your recorder?

  Okay. It was after curfew. Sue me. See, lots of people like to think the floors we live on are all super-secure, but I know better. There are plenty of vents that go all through the tower. How far down they go, I don’t know. I’ve always been a little afraid to find out. Anyway, I just thought I’d do some everyday stalking. You know, see what goes on after hours. So I get out of the vents on Floor 8.

  Yeah. Floor 8. Not Floor 5. Fine. I admit it. I was creeping Mike. Sue me.

  Anyway, I’m on Floor 8, and it’s dark
. It’s always dark in the halls after hours. Now, I expect if I see anyone, it’ll be Security. They’re hard to miss. I mean, we’re talking about guys walking around in bulky vests with helmets and stuff. After hours, I mean. They leave the helmets off during normal hours. But at night? Imagine looking down a long hallway and seeing a beefy seven-foot dude, wearing a mask and swinging a rifle, heading your way. No thanks, especially when it’s so late that you haven’t seen anyone else in the halls for a while.

  Yeah, it’s not exactly something you’re hoping to see. So I’m walking, and there’s nobody around. No Security, no people. Nothing. At first I’m bored. I don’t really know where Mike’s apartment is. I’m just searching, you know. Then I start walking farther and farther down the halls.

  Thing is, the Tower’s big, you know? Real big. Some of these halls go on a long time, and it’s not too hard to get lost. Okay, so yeah, I got lost. Real lost. At that point I was just turning corners trying to make my way back. I’m not sure how long this goes on, but I know I find my way into some real distant parts of the floor. I’m talking about places where nobody lives. You can always tell when someone lives in an apartment, ’cause they’ve got that green light on the outside keycard swipe. If nobody lives in the apartment, the light’s red.

  Well, I turn one hall, and all the lights are red. Every single one of them, on both sides of the hall, are shining like a road to hell. It extends forever into a blackness I don’t have the brass to try and enter, so I try doubling back around. As I head back into the maze behind me, at some point I make a wrong turn. Again, lost. Then I make another, and another mistake. Soon every hallway is lit up in red. At every intersection I stop at, every direction is glowing crimson, like the walls have been painted in blood. So I do what everyone knows you’re supposed to do, and I start just taking every left I reach. Left, left, left, left, left. All red lights on the doors. No noise. The only thing I hear is my footsteps echoing down the hallway. That, and the sound of my heart as it plays the drums against my chest. Soon even my breathing is picking up, like I’m choking. It doesn’t help that the lights are so dim, since it’s after hours. Then I turn one corner, and I see the endless hallways, with all their doors, come to a stop. It’s a dead end.

  But I see someone there, dressed in all white. They’ve got their back to me, and it looks like they’re messing with something in the wall. I freeze, the hairs on my arm standing up as my teeth clench together. All at once my body locks up and my breathing stops, so that the only sound left is my heart. It just goes bump bump as I stare at this person for what feels like an hour. Was really more of a second, but, damn, I don’t know. It was like forever. Whatever she’s wearing is skintight, but the worst part is when she suddenly looks up from whatever she’s doing. She’s noticed me. Then she turns.

  I run, or at least I try to. I flip around and start to haul out of there with maximum effort. Bloodred hues whish by me as I super-speed to the opposite end of the hall. Only to see her standing there. Watching me. I juke, my ankles almost breaking as I turn around and sprint away. I hit the juncture and make a right, and there she is again, staring at me from down the hallway. I can’t cope with it, man. I just can’t. She’s everywhere I turn, and I just can’t get away from her, so I give up. I just look at her for a second and blink.

  Then she’s gone.

  I’m not going to talk about this again. Security’d come for me if they knew I’d recorded this.

  Angels don’t exist.

  Recording Seventeen

  It’s been more than two weeks, and the Scavengers still aren’t back. This hasn’t happened before. They must be having to go deeper and deeper into the Tower to find supplies. Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I heard the morning speaker announce, “Day nineteen of the Scavenging has begun.” That was so weird. New things don’t happen in the Tower.

  But this? A Scavenging going on more than two weeks?

  This is new.

  I don’t know why I bothered asking Dad since he just said not to worry. “They’ll be back soon,” he said, like nothing bad could happen. As if. He plays everything so cool, like everything’s okay in the world. I mean, I guess being able to ignore everything happening is a mildly useful skill to have in the apocalypse, but sometimes I really need someone that’s going to soak in my freak-out. Mom’s practically a panicked version of me that’s dialed up ten levels higher, so trying to complain to her is no good.

  What is it about life that sometimes you just want somebody to listen? Why do I feel like I need that?

  Whatever.

  So, about the Scavenging.

  No.

  To be real . . . About Mike.

  I don’t think I’d really started to notice how much Mom and Dad had changed until I was sixteen. They’d always been these, like, comforting towers of genius. Then I got older, and they seemed so . . . I don’t know. Something else. Not good. Dad got distant. Mom went nuts.

  What bothered me most was I felt like what I remembered about them was gone. They weren’t the people I’d known, and I couldn’t figure out why. Speaking with them became impossible, and I can’t talk to Allison about this stuff. I know we’ve made up and I love her to death. I’d freaking rip someone’s arm out if it meant saving her, but she’s okay with living here. With not knowing what’s going on.

  I’m not.

  So for a long time, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Nobody to listen to my questions and just say, “Hey, Jackie, you’re not completely entirely psycho.” I don’t need you to hand me tissues. I just need to know that I’m on someone’s mind.

  I don’t know why. I just want to know I exist.

  I guess that’s why I latched onto Mike so hard-core. Dude’s older than me, and I get that. But you know that feeling you get when you’re dying of thirst and you finally grab a glass of water? Like you’ve been working out all day, and you’re finally able to get a drink? That’s Mike. He’s a tall glass of cold water. Maybe mixed with some cherry flavoring to make him delicious.

  It was last year when he came by the classroom. He didn’t need to be there, I mean, he was eighteen. He’d graduated. I was up to my normal shenanigans, trying to look through the library we keep to see if anything new’d been put on the shelves. Anyway, I don’t notice this joker coming up to me until he says, “Hey.”

  I nearly flip out of my clothes, which would probably have been the most absolutely inappropriate thing to do at that moment. After I manage to find where my breath went, I took exactly one step back, locked up like I was standing in military salute, and said, “Hey.”

  “What’ve you got going on here?”

  “Oh, the reg, you know. Looking for some cool action stories or something. Hopefully a book with lots of killing and bloody violence, for my inner killer and all,” I say as I lean against the shelf. Of course, I forget that there’s nothing holding the books from sliding off the other side, and I cringe as I hear a pile of them unceremoniously colliding onto the floor. Mike just laughs as he heads around.

  “Here,” he says, “let me get those.”

  “Not by yourself. I’m not some damsel in distress.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he says as I trail him into the next aisle. He leans down to grab some. “I’m just being a friend.”

  “Is that right?” I ask as I join him, snatching a few off the ground and stacking them back on the shelves.

  “Well, I figure, right? Been what? Four years we’ve known each other?”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t really been friends. I didn’t think. I mean, you know.” I cluck my tongue. “Age and everything.”

  “It’s just four years, Jack. Going on five soon.”

  “But you’re also cool guy Mike! I’m . . . loner girl Jackie.”

  “Psh. Who cares?”

  “Peo . . . ple?”

  “And why do I care about those people?”

  See, that’s why he’s cool guy Mike. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I mean, I don’t care, eithe
r. I mean, look at me. Psh. I don’t even bother combing my hair.” Stupid. “Apparently.”

  He finishes picking up the last of the books and stuffs them onto the shelf before settling onto the ground. It’s weird to just sit there with him. And he doesn’t say anything, so I’m like . . . am I supposed to do something in this situation?

  “So, uh. Mike?”

  “Hm?”

  “What brings you down to the library?”

  “I was looking for you. Figured you’d be here.”

  Okay, well, at least he’s direct. “Want to know more about the Creep? I haven’t been anywhere, like, exciting or anything. Not recently, although I was thinking about heading all the way down to Floor 21 to see if I could find those Creep abusers. You know, the guys that like to trip off of the hallucinations?”

  “Nah, Jackie, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, we’re always talking about the Tower. When’s the last time we just talked? About how you’re doing?”

  “Just, you know, for the record? That’s not really my fault. You’re the one who only comes around to ask me if I’ve managed to piss off more Security. That’s on you, buddy.”

  “Hey, it’s not like I have this all figured out,” he says, shrugging it off like he does so much about life. “Yeah, we had a kind of weird kickoff to the friendship, seeing as I had to keep you from catching heat from Security. But we get along well enough, right? We both want to know what’s out there. Both want to know what’s up on Floor 1 or why we’re trapped in here.”

  “Right. Not exactly like there’s a lot of inquisitive minds we live with.”

  “Exactly. I just figured it was time to, you know, be a bit real. I mean, no sense pretending like I don’t like your company. I mean, yeah, sure, I like talking to you about what’s going on around here. Just figured it was worth trying to see if you’d like to talk about other things once in a while. Stuff.”