She braced her feet against the wall, ready to push back the panel, but froze when the intercom buzzed.
“Mrs. Mortarri, will you be keeping your massage appointment this morning?”
“Excuse me?” her mother said. “My what?”
“Massage appointment. Under the circumstances, we can reschedule.”
Lexia’s chest grew tight. Her head buzzed, and the sound of it was so loud, she was afraid she’d miss her mother’s next words.
“Yes, of course I’ll keep my appointment,” her mother said. “It’s been a stressful morning.”
And now Lexia couldn’t breathe.
Her mother turned, the spa wrap fluttering across Lexia’s field of vision before vanishing completely.
Where had her mother gone? Her real mother, not the one who had so recently swept from the room, intent on keeping a massage appointment. Where had that woman run to? Because certainly she’d gone somewhere and left Lexia behind, alone with an imposter.
She slipped from under the bed and replaced its panel, then she tore a few more strips from the bottom of her sheet. These she used to tie the blanket to her pack.
At the door, she hesitated, rocking on the balls of her feet. Would it open for her? She had shed the spa wrap, and what she guessed was the tracking device that went with it. She wore old clothes, from Earth—out of fashion, of course—but they were nondescript and sturdy. Lexia shut her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and placed her hand on the console.
The door opened.
She grinned—couldn’t help it. In a way, it made sense. Why engage an override lock on an empty room?
In the corridor, a guard passed her, the same one who had gripped her wrists and left his sweat all over her. The man stared as though he didn’t recognize her. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that was part of the problem with these spas. Everyone was either a guest or a worker—no one was an actual person.
In the pool area, she rushed past the mud baths, the mineral pools, running her fingers along the fogged glass without leaving any streaks. Lexia paused near the cabana where her mother booked all her massages.
The flaps were closed.
She clamped a hand over her mouth and wished she could cry silently like Amie did. Then, she turned toward the vent.
She crawled through the structure’s innards, spilled onto the pebbles outside, and scrambled to her feet. The spa sat behind her, a white blob, its own self-contained bubble in a brilliant green reality. Hills stretched for miles. Lexia ran, haphazardly at first, then with purpose toward the largest tree on the first hill.
On one of the branches, something white flapped in the wind. When she was ten feet away, she recognized it.
A strip from Amie’s turban.
Lexia stood beneath the branch and peered at the path ahead of her. Another glimmer of white, there, in the distance? She slid down the hill, never losing sight of the bit of white. When she reached the second tree, she tugged the strip from the branch and tied it around her wrist. Then she ran toward the next hint of white in the distance, leaving the world of fogged glass behind.
Also by Charity Tahmaseb
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More by Charity Tahmaseb:
GHOST IN THE COFFEE MACHINE
Katy and her grandmother have always used coffee to catch ghosts. It pays the bills and keeps them in high-end beans. But after Katy’s grandmother dies, it’s as if she’s taken all the ghosts with her.
Until Katy discovers there’s a rival ghost hunter in town, one who uses tea—of all things—and one who has stolen all her clients. But when an epic infestation threatens, Katy can’t help but get involved. It will take all her wits—and some excellent Kona blend—to fight the ghost in the coffee machine.
THE TROUBLE WITH PROM
Glass Slipper: What do you do when the boy you’ve known forever dumps you the day before prom with everyone in a packed cafeteria looking on? Stalk him in your pajamas, of course. For Mira, this is only the start of a not-so-Cinderella prom.
Breaking Plans: Constance has plans, ones that include leaving her small town immediately after graduation. Prom isn’t part of her agenda. Constance is proficient at breaking rules. But breaking plans? Never. Except that might be the one thing she needs to do.
Bonus Content: Get a sneak peek of THE FINE ART OF KEEPING QUIET
THE FINE ART OF KEEPING QUIET
Sophomore Jolia does the one thing no one expects from the girl who has perfected the art of keeping quiet.
She joins the speech team.
Jolia can’t confess the real reason—not to her best friend, her new teammates, or even to crush-worthy rival Sam who offers to coach her in secret.
Keeping quiet might be the easy way out, but when what Jolia doesn’t say starts to hurt those around her, it might just cost her a best friend, her spot on the team, and even Sam.
But she isn’t the only one with a secret. It’s going to take words—her words—to make things right.
If only Jolia can find them.
About the Author
Charity Tahmaseb has slung corn on the cob for Green Giant and jumped out of airplanes (but not at the same time). She spent twelve years as a Girl Scout and six in the Army; that she wore a green uniform for both may not be a coincidence. These days, she writes fiction (long and short) and works as a technical writer for a software company in St. Paul.
Her novel, The Geek Girl’s Guide to Cheerleading (written with co-author Darcy Vance), was a YALSA 2012 Popular Paperback pick in the Get Your Geek On category.
Her short speculative fiction has appeared in UFO Publishing’s Unidentified Funny Objects and Coffee anthologies, Kazka Press, Sucker Literary Magazine and Cast of Wonders. She blogs (occasionally) at Writing Wrongs.
Copyright Information
The Maze: Three Stories of the Future
Copyright © 2014 by Charity Tahmaseb
Published by Collins Mark Books
Cover and Layout copyright © 2014 by Collins Mark Books
Cover design by Collins Mark Books
Cover art copyright © Kiselev Andrey Valerevich/Shutterstock
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
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