by J. A. Rock
I thought she would stop and force me out of the car, and then I would be alone in the middle of the road with the world spreading in all directions and no one to tell me ever again that I was wicked or strange or unwanted.
But Auntie Bletch kept driving, her jaw tight, and my panic turned to a delirium. My underarms sweated and tears dripped from my jaw. I shivered and jerked, and Auntie Bletch reached over and dug her pointy purple nails into my knee like claws. I screeched and pushed my face against the window, sobbing. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go.”
And soon I had no capacity for words, only a terror worse than nightmares. I don’t remember reaching Rock Point. I don’t remember saying good-bye to the Bletch, if that even happened. I remember the shock of cold water and rearing up like something freed from an enchanted lamp, swinging my fists and screaming.
The next thing I remember is waking in the solitary room, morning pouring in through the window. I stared out beyond the gates at the freedom I felt sure I’d never have again. I checked my pocket for the bottle of painkillers, but I didn’t even have a coat anymore. I was in a drab gray jumpsuit.
And then Riley Denson came in.
Security Staff Report: Officer Molly Grenwat
T Ballard, #11305094, has been missing since early this morning. We suspect she has RUN AWAY. Van Narr and me are searching the grounds now. ANY information anyone has is appreciated.
Rollins’s Note: Denson claims not to have seen her at all this morning. Bessie, the night monitor, saw Thera in her bed last night at lights out.
Rec Report: Glenna Formas
Rec not the same today without #11305094. Between losing her and the blond girl, the non-wiener contingent is fast dissolving. I will help look for this girl if it means a soccer game where somebody actually scores a damn goal.
Bessie Holmes’s Note: Yes, T Ballard was in bed last night. i was been unclear how she escaped, as i am always watching that hall.
Van Narr’s Note: Except when you fall asleep.
Officer Grenwat’s Note: Except when most kids here are SMARTER than you, Bessie. Wouldn’t be surprised if these children are running off just to get away from YOU. Also, no one has mentioned the single clue: A purple unicorn was left outside of L Beecham’s room.
Van Narr’s Note: It was pink.
Bessie Holmes’s Note: i know what you think of me. Stupid ugly woman & i’m not good with the kids & i’m in a pathetic choir. But i’d like to tell you something. i used to have a little girl. i know this will surprise you, but i was been a good mother & i loved her very much.
i had considerible mental difficulties in this time & my husband thought i wasn’t fit to be a mother, but my baby was my joy i told him. Over & over i told him.
i hadn’t gone out of the house in months. i was been home every day with the baby. i wanted to go to the cinema & asked my husband if he could stay with the baby for 2 hours but he said no. So i took my little girl with me.
She slept in my arms for the first ten minutes of a spectacular film—Crudzie’s Ovation. You might remember it. it had splendid dancing and the font on the title cards was exessivly lovely. My daughter began to be fussing quietly. i rocked her but she cried louder. People was starting to look over but still i rocked her. i hadn’t been out in so long & i was enjoying the film so very much.
Someone finally said get that baby out of there because people are trying to enjoy the film. i said she’ll stop fussing in a minute just be patient. But then more people started telling me to leave. i didn’t leave. i wanted to see how the movie ended. i just shushed my little girl & held her close & prayed she would sleep again.
i could barely enjoy it anymore because of what people said. They were been making more noise than my baby! Someone yelled you stupid cow, that babys unhappy in here. Go away. i was so embarrassed i started crying.
i got up & ran out of the theater & called my husband to pick me up. My skin was hot as fever. As soon as we was out in the lobby, my baby stopped crying.
i don’t know why i stayed in a cinema when she was crying. I don’t know why i was having been so stupid sometimes but after that my psy mental debilitations was such that my husband left & he took the baby. A judge said that was only right since i was unwell. if you think i don’t regret that, your wrong. if you think i don’t care for the girls here, your wrong. i am being haunted each day & i only want the best for people. You all make fun of my dog & my hobbies but nightly i pray for happiness for all of you.
Officer Grenwat’s Note: Somebody call DuMorg in.
Van Narr’s Note: DuMorg is a youth specialist. I don’t know what she could do about a case of the Old ’N’ Batties.
Rollins’s Note: Bessie, we are very grateful for the work you do here. I do not doubt your compassion or your good intentions. I hope you’ll join me in my office after three today. I have some new tea my uncle sent. Anyone else is welcome too if you are not on duty at that time.
It was a month before I was found. In that time, I lived fairly comfortably on a thief’s salary, stealing what I needed from the shops in town. I slept in the shed across the field from the pub. It was a mess of broken glass and rotting wood and spiders, but nobody bothered me there. I still sometimes felt a wonderful quiet, a sense that my rage was a surface disease that crawled on my skin, rather than a consuming, permanent thing. But mostly I was lonely and tremendously bored.
I turned eighteen. I found myself increasingly able to deal with Bitsy’s death, though I didn’t lose my desire for revenge. I walked Main Street many times, looking for those two officers. I staked out the police department, hoping for a glimpse of them. But I never saw them.
It was Alle who occupied my mind, and to stave off thoughts of her I concentrated on opening my mind to the beast. My dreams became darker and darker still. I was ready to know her. I was ready to be her. I became convinced that the labyrinth was my destiny, the beast my mirror, and that once I was inside the maze everything would make sense.
I awoke one night to a tapping on the shed’s broken window. I got up, grabbing a steak knife I’d snatched from the pub’s kitchen weeks ago. I went outside and called, “Who’s there?”
“Awf, you loon.” Kenna crushed me in a hug so hard I dropped the knife. “You stupid thing. Why’d you run off? Denson’s ready to call in the military for a search.”
My stomach clenched at the mention of Denson. I backed up. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. We’ve left the dungeon, both of us.”
“Both of . . .?”
Alle stepped forward. We stared at each other for a moment, saying nothing. She appeared distant, almost blank. Something in me twisted when I looked at her.
“Can we come in?” Kenna pushed past me into the shed. “God, Thera, you don’t know what a ruckus you caused.”
I followed her in and listened to Alle’s footsteps behind me. “I was ready to get out. I just went a few weeks early.”
“Well, happy eighteenth, anyway.” Kenna glanced around my lair. “My, you’re a slob.”
“I just had to get out of there. After Bitsy . . . and Denson was on my case . . .” I still felt sick every time I thought of Denson. I’d hoped that would fade, the same way the edges of Bitsy’s death had dulled over the weeks. But my guilt over what I’d done to Denson didn’t lose its sharpness.
Kenna pulled me aside suddenly into the shadows. She jerked her head toward Alle. “I told Miss B. what a shitty thing she did to you. Claiming to be your friend, but then bailing when the going got tough. I mean, I could see it, after Bitsy. She barely spoke to you, and I know she thinks we’re crooks and all. But when I told her I was gonna look for you, she wanted to come.” Kenna rocked back on her heels and shrugged. “I thought you should know she’s been worried about you.”
And I’d thought about her every day since I’d left Rock Point. But it didn’t matter. “I really don’t care. Right now, I’m concerned about one thing. Which is getting e
nough money to live off.”
“Got any grand plans?”
“As a matter of fact, one.” My heartbeat felt soft and erratic, like the flickering of a candle.
“Awright. What, then?”
“We steal the treasure from the labyrinth.”
Kenna’s mouth opened for a moment, then lifted in a grin. “You’re getting as bad as I am, the way you lay out your horse patties with a straight face.”
“I’m not joking. I mean to go into the labyrinth. And come out with the treasure.”
“Okay,” Kenna said slowly. “And you do know there’s a beast in there with the head of a bull who eats people?”
I smiled. “I’ve heard something to that effect.” She will not eat me. She knows I am coming. She knows I’m meant to be there. “Are you in or not?”
Kenna looked at me and said, very solemnly, “Back when I was fighting in a global war—7th Cavalry Division, basic soldier, first class—I had a commanding officer who told me something.”
“Kenna. Please. You never fought—”
“Shh.” She put a finger to my lips and stared at me. “He said, ‘Private Murphy. If you don’t take these risks, someone else will. And that someone will chow forever on glory that should have been yours.’”
“Beautiful.”
“I’m in.” She kicked a piece of glass across the floor and into a corner. “But what if the beast wakes and finds us thieving?”
“Then we kill her.” I said it decisively, and my heartbeat became stronger, more even. In truth I couldn’t imagine killing her, didn’t know whether she was my enemy.
“Right, right. The two of us against a beast. Or is it three?” Kenna looked over her shoulder. “Miss B.? Thera has a proposal.”
Alle came toward us cautiously. I tried not to look at her, tried to turn her into a shadow. I told her the plan, sure the news would send her scurrying back to Rock Point. But she nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
I lifted my head and gazed at her, unable to help myself. She seemed older than Kenna and me. Even holed up in this broken place, in her stained yellow shawl and secondhand clothes, her hair full of twigs—she looked worthy of a crown.
I shared some of my tinned food with Kenna and Alle, and Kenna offered a stream of tales from Rock Point, most of which I knew were horse patties.
After dinner, Kenna went outside to “answer nature’s call,” leaving Alle and me alone and silent.
“You’ll really go with us?” I asked her.
She nodded.
I noticed she held something in her lap. Rocky Bottom’s ball of thread. She saw me staring at it and drew back, a hand hovering almost protectively over the ball. “Because of Aaron McInroe?” I asked.
She glanced up in surprise.
“I’ve read your history.”
She stiffened. “How?”
“Kenna and I looked at our files, and Bitsy’s. I read yours too.”
“So what?” Her voice was cold. “Now you know I’m a murderess.”
“I know you were brave.”
Another bout of silence so long it set my teeth on edge. How could she feel like such a stranger to me? At last she spoke, her voice less harsh. “Rocky Bottom says he thinks Aaron McInroe went to the labyrinth several weeks ago.”
“So that’s it. Why you talk to him?” All around us, night creatures whirred, and out the window of the shack, tall weeds rustled. “But isn’t that a good thing? He’s beast food now.”
“I want to do it myself.”
I stared at her. “There’s no prize for slaying,” she’d told me. “But if she’s already done it . . .”
“She hasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitated. “He’s in my dreams. All the time, he’s there. I know he’s alive. I don’t care if you think I’m crazy.”
“No.” McInroe was in her dreams, same as the beast was in mine. I understood, and I wanted her to do what she was meant to do.
“If we’re going to the labyrinth for different reasons, we might . . .” I didn’t know how to say it. We’d be separated. Her quest might compromise mine, and vice versa.
“We’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
She held my gaze. “I know you’re not going for the treasure. You’re going because you want to kill the beast.”
I sat there in the dark and listened to Kenna humming outside. Was it true? I had no idea anymore. What did she imagine would happen? That we’d enter the maze, go our separate ways, then meet up again once she’d killed McInroe and I’d slain the Minotaur and Kenna had grabbed us a sack of gold?
The whole idea seemed doomed, and yet I didn’t care. Did it matter why each of us went? Together, we stood a chance of facing whatever waited for us in the labyrinth. Of not becoming lost forever in the maze. I curled my toes, then stretched them, feeling the grit of the floor.
“You know what they told me?” Alle asked quietly. “That I had one chance at Rock Point. And if I did anything to hurt anybody, they’d send me to jail.”
“Who said that?”
“Bessie Holmes. DuMorg. Shit, Thera, I started to like it there. I started to think I could have a life, that I didn’t need revenge at all. Like more killing wasn’t gonna do a damn thing. But then I . . . when I started talking to Rocky Bottom, I remembered.”
I was silent.
“There’s something I’m supposed to do.” She shook her head. “Only reason I don’t want to kill him is I’m afraid once won’t be enough.”
Kenna came inside then. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Alle. I didn’t know what to think, what to say. I finally turned from her and said loudly, “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn for Rock Point.”
“Rock Point?” Kenna’s face looked slack, dull in the shadows and moonlight.
“It would take hours to walk to the promontory. It’s a gamble to ask for a lift in town—most people won’t go anywhere near the labyrinth, and some might turn us in if we’ve been reported missing. If we go to Rock Point, we can hide on the grounds and stow away in the back of the prison truck when it comes.”
Kenna clapped. “You are a madness.”
“It won’t work,” Alle said. “We’d be caught.”
“Listen, you weasel-stomping baby doll.” Kenna walked over to us. “This is Miss Ballard’s waltz. If she says we’re going in the prison truck, we’re going in the prison truck.”
I glanced at Alle, daring her to protest. She was silent.
“Well, then.” I made a mock bow. “Friends. I say we pay a visit to the beast.”
I would have liked us to march on the labyrinth’s gates, throw open the doors, and step inside as though I were coming home. As it was, we returned to the outskirts of Rock Points Girls’ Home with our limited food. We stayed in the woods and kept an eye on the prison. Kenna and I took turns sneaking inside and pilfering from the kitchen as needed. More often than not I volunteered to go, as it was hard for me to be around Alle without Kenna there. Finally one evening the truck showed up to the prison to collect tributes. We saw it coming up the gravel road and hurried toward the fence, grateful for the lack of moon.
We went under the fence and sneaked toward the prison.
The truck stopped in front of the prison’s gate, and one of the men got out to open it. We stayed crouched in the shadows. My heart was pounding, but more with excitement than fear. The truck drove through and stopped, and before the second man could close the gate, Kenna threw a rock. It hit one of the truck’s wooden slats with a crack, and the man near the gate whipped his head around.
The driver leaned out the window. “The hell was that?”
While both men were distracted, Kenna, Alle, and I slipped through the gate and huddled along the fence.
It was more frightening now—the prison yard was wide open, and we could see a light in the guard hut. We pressed against the chain-link, and I was certain one of the men would spot us. But the driver pulled his head back throug
h the window, and the passenger closed the gate and got back in the truck without so much as a glance in our direction. They drove up to the front of the prison.
We were familiar enough with the routine from watching the prisoner loading and unloading over the years. Both men jumped out. One opened the back of the truck to get cuffs and chains out. The men were armed with long rifles, and the passenger had what looked like a silver charm around his neck that flashed briefly in the glare of the truck’s lights. They went inside to collect the prisoners.
While they were gone, we went to the back of the truck and climbed in. There were sheets of burlap covering bales of straw. A rubbery tarp on the floor and loose straw that pricked our feet through our flimsy shoes. Kenna and Alle crouched behind a straw bale in the far corner and I threw some burlap over them. Then I climbed in beside them.
“D’you think the guard saw?” Kenna whispered.
“Shut up. If he did, he’d be here.”
“I just want you to know . . .” Kenna poked me. “That I’ve never done anything exciting. I was never lost in a desert.”
“I know.”
“I never killed a zebra.”
“I know. Would you can it?”
“This will be my first time doing anything noteworthy. So thank you.”
I held Kenna’s hand, and wished I were holding Alle’s. Eventually we heard voices. The clank of chains. The shuffle of feet on gravel. The truck rocked slightly as the prisoners were loaded. Their chains banged against the floor. One man was protesting, and I realized I knew the voice.
Rocky Bottom.
“You can’t do this to me, man,” he said. “I don’t wanna go there. Man, you can just kill me here. You getting me? You can kill me here.”
“Shut up,” the driver muttered. The prisoners took a seat on two of the straw bales in the middle of the truck. I could see a pair of legs through a gap in the burlap.