by Jodie Kobe
~~~
The assembly ends and Mr. Welds calls us three volunteers to the stage.
I trail behind Fox and Rian as they walk. Hundreds of eyeballs are directed at us as we struggle to squeeze past the aisles and chairs. Once we reach the front of the room, we climb the short staircase and arrive right on the stage.
The room starts to spin as I look down at the audience. My fingers fight with each other.
Fox waves at the silent crowd and Rian just stands there, arms crossed and his back stiff. I'm the shortest one on the stage. Fox and Rian tower over me by a lot.
Mr. Welds puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “These are our three lovely people.”
Lovely?
“Give them a round of applause.”
Everyone does.
Once it's quiet again, Mr. Welds calls, “Thank you for attending. Have a good rest of your day.”
The audience stands up, but I'm not able to see what happens after that because Rian, Fox, and I are ushered out a door. Mr. Welds and Janelle are the ones guiding us through.
The door slides closed behind us, and we're in a new room.
I look around.
There are a few containers (a little taller than me) that are placed in rows around the whole room, creating aisles. Mr. Welds leads all three of us to the other side of the room. Janelle trails right behind us.
We stop in front of a container, and I take a good look at what’s inside.
I'm expecting people, but there are no. There only seem to be suits in each of the containers. In fact, they resemble the suits in the picture back at the assembly. These must be the suits we will wear.
Mr. Welds taps the glass a suit is encased in. “These, my dear friends, are the suits you will be wearing.” He gestures around the room. “As you see here, we’ve made quite a few. Many of them were a disaster. We still keep our failures.”
Fox speaks up. “How are we supposed to know which is whose? Isn’t there a certain size?” He points to me. “She’s really short and there’s no way she’ll fit—”
“Mr. Manson,” Mr. Welds cuts in. We do have sizes made especially for each of you. Come.”
We follow him, but we don’t even go that far. All it takes us are a few more steps to reach another container. This one has the same suit inside, but I notice there’s number printed across the chest.
39-245.
Fox whistles and I have no idea why he’s impressed. “Sweet,” he says. “It’s mine.”
I look at him. “How can you tell?”
Fox frowns and points to the suit in the container. “My classification number’s on there. See?” He leans against the glass casually and says to Mr. Welds, “Will we get to try them on today?”
Mr. Welds opens his mouth to answer but Janelle cuts in.
“No, Fox. You will put them on the day of your mission. I assure you, they fit perfectly.” She glances at Mr. Welds and mutters to him, “Sorry, sir, for interrupting.”
Mr. Welds dismisses her apology with a wave of his hand. He asks Rian and me, “Would you like to take a look at your suits?”
I shrug while Rian says, “Yes.”
A couple of steps to the right and we’re standing in front of another container. This one has a suit as well. The number 42-2 is printed across the chest this time. I step closer to my suit and stare at it. Fox is right—it is pretty sweet to see a suit you know is made for your size. It looks smaller than Fox’s. I almost want to try it on.
“What does that number mean?” I ask, indicating to the number 42-2 on the suit’s chest area.
Janelle says, “It’s a classification number. Didn’t someone tell you this already?”
I shrug. “Yes, but why do we have them? Can’t you just use our regular names instead?”
“Well,” Janelle begins, “there can be people with the exact same name as you and we want to know which Vivian was brought back to life first. This number helps us do that. The smaller the number, the longer you’ve been staying here.”
Could that mean someone has the number one? “Is there someone with the exact name as mine living here?” I ask.
Janelle shakes her head.
We move on to Rian’s suit. It’s labeled with the number 41-5. Seeing this suits makes me excited. Just a few more days until we can finally head outside.
We don’t spend too long looking at Rian’s suit. But after we finish, Mr. Welds and Janelle lead us to yet another door.
We enter a small room.
This building has the most complex turns, doors, and rooms I have seen.
This small room is filled with so many objects that there’s actually barely any room to move around. If I want to stand anywhere, I’d have to be careful not to bump into any tables or step on anything scattered across the floor. And even though this room is not very organized at all, Mr. Welds knows exactly where the thing he's looking for is located. He walks over to a small table in the corner and picks up an object. He spins around to face us and brings the object to our faces.
At first, it looks to be some sort of calculator, but as I squint at it longer, I see it’s not. Mr. Welds flips it over so we can see the screen. There are plain letters at the top, saying: GPS.
Oh.
“Is that the—” Fox starts to say.
Mr. Welds interrupts him. “It’s the GPS that should help you find your way to the proper location to plant the machine. This isn’t the exact one. We assigned the GPS to Mr. Callum.” He drops the small device into Rian’s hands and everyone watches Rian as he stares at the screen.
“I’ve seen this before,” he says.
Mr. Welds nods. “Indeed, you have.”
He reviews the plan with us yet again, making sure we understand it. In the middle of his presentation, Janelle leaves, telling us she has to answer a call. I’m not sure where the phone she’s talking into is but I catch a few of her words as she heads toward the door.
“Dr. Janelle here. Oh...what do you need?” The door closes behind her.
After Mr. Welds explains a few more things, he leaves all three of us alone with the last words of “Get to know each other. Ask questions. I’ll be back in a few.”
He leaves us in the disorganized room while Fox pulls a chair out from one of the tables to sit on.
He cracks his knuckles and opens his mouth. “Well, well, well...what do we have here? The people I shall be working with?”
Rian snorts but doesn’t say anything.
Fox turns to me. “So...little girl—uh—how long have you been alive?”
Little girl? That’s who he thinks I am?
I’m about to say something but he interrupts.
“Your name was mentioned countless times, but I completely forgot it.”
“It’s Vi—” I start.
Fox interrupts again. “Just kidding. I know your name. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He grins.
I’m about to reply but he says, “Just kidding, just kidding. You’re not that special.”
I shut my mouth and stay silent. That’s how he wants this conversation to go?
“So,” Rian says. “Who will carry the machine?”
“You mean drag it?” Fox asks, pulling another chair out to throw his feet on. “You heard what Jack said. It’s too heavy for just one person to carry.”
“Then two people can carry it,” Rian answers.
Fox points a finger at me. “Give her something light, like the chip. That should be easy to carry.”
“Hey!” I exclaim. “I can carry heavier—”
Fox cuts me off. “Yeah, right. I really doubt you’ll be able to carry more than ten pounds.” He gestures at me. “I mean, look at you. You’re so scrawny and short.”
I cross my arms and shrink back. I can’t believe I’m letting his words get to me. I'm twenty-one.
“Oh, and you might lose it,” Fox adds. “So someone else should carry it—”
“Fox, that's enough,” Rian snaps, kicking the c
hair away from underneath Fox’s feet. “I’ll take the GPS. You take the machine. Vivian takes the chip. We’ll help you carry the machine.”
“That—” I try to say.
“Vivian,” Rian says. “Stop. Just calm down. It’ll be fine.”
I decide it will be better not to comment, so I find a random chair to sit down in. Fox starts tapping his foot on the floor, and Rian plays with the GPS.
“Ahem,” Fox says, breaking the silence. “Uh...don’t you guys think it’s cool that we have our own suits with our own sizes?”
I let Rian answer this. “Not really,” he says. “It’s kind of like wearing normal clothes that fit your size. There’s nothing special about that.”
Fox just shrugs and reaches for a random object on the table next to him. It’s a spring. He tosses it back and forth in his hands and I avert my eyes, deciding to look at my hands instead.
No one talks for the next couple of minutes. Finally, Mr. Welds comes back. Janelle follows behind him.
I stand up from my chair as they enter. Fox remains seated in his chair. Rian never sat down.
“Hello again,” Mr. Welds greet us. He clears his throat and looks at me for a few seconds. “Ms. Clancy, something unexpected came up.”
I don’t know what to say. Has the mission been canceled?
“W-what’s wrong?” I ask him.
Mr. Welds’ eyes shift away from mine for a second. “Um, Mr. Robin Garmin has requested to speak with you.”
I freeze.
I’m not going to him. All these days have passed, and I have not heard from him. Now he wants to talk? He must have planned something out.
“He’s in a cell,” Mr. Welds interrupts my thoughts. “So there shouldn’t be any worries. Dr. Janelle will accompany you the whole time. Robin said it’ll only take a second. Would you be willing to visit him?”
No.
I take a deep breath and nod my head quickly. “Yeah, sure,” I whisper, wiping my hands on my jeans. I cast a glance at Rian and Fox to see how they’re reacting to this.
Fox looks like he’s waiting for us to leave while Rian asks, “Could we go with her?”
Fox brightens up. “I agree with that. We should come see Rob with her. You heard what he wanted to do. The more people protecting her the better, right?”
Mr. Welds shakes his head. “No need. He’s locked up. Come, Vivian.” He gestures for me to follow him. “We’ll be back soon,” he tells Rian and Fox as we pass through the doorway.
I’m not exactly sure where they are keeping Rob. Mr. Welds said in a cell. There are cells here?
We’re back in that vast, white hallway again. I’m walking behind Janelle and Mr. Welds, wondering why Rob wants to see me.
We pass through another door and this time, enter a narrow, white hallway. Except this isn’t just a regular hallway. On each side of the walls, there are cells. Regular prison cells containing living people. The prisoners stare at me as I enter, but I try not to pay too much attention to them. My stomach twists. Are these people locked up because they committed crimes?
Mr. Welds says, “Dr. Janelle will take it from here. Rob is a few cells away, so you’ll find him.”
He leaves me with Janelle.
A familiar voice calls out, “Dr. Janelle? Dara!”
A hand squeezes through the bars of a cell not too far away from me. Rob.
Janelle gently pushes me forward, toward Rob. As we near his cell, he stares at me, not saying a word.
I clench and unclench my sweaty hands a couple of times, then wipe them on my jeans. Rob’s eyes switch first to Janelle, then to me. Then back and forth again.
Janelle sighs with annoyance. “She’s here, Robin. Now talk.”