by Jason Letts
Judging her depth within the ship, she seemed to be right above and beside the engine room, meaning the ventilation shaft would extend into the secret room from the exterior and drop down right above Arent and his generator. If they could make it to this hallway, then surely she could just make a cut in the wall and bust through. But there had to be a way inside, and that’s when Aoi realized it was right under the captain’s quarters.
Struggling to imagine how this doorless room was connected to the captain’s private room above, Aoi went upstairs to check it out. What if they cut their way through only to get themselves caught straight away. After all the time and work they’d put into this plan, having it get ruined so close to the end seemed an abhorrent waste.
Returning to the door to the captain’s chamber, which was now shut, she put her hand on the lever to open it, but it pulled itself open as soon as she started to turn it. Suddenly yanked forward, the saw clanked against the metallic doorframe. Stunned, she looked up to see Crimshaw with his hand on the other side of the door.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
After spending so much time in the nearly empty ship, it never crossed her mind that she might run into someone.
“I heard…there was a problem…in here.” She fumbled for another lie but came up with nothing. Behind him she could see the same desk and the mirror, and she saw Crimshaw standing on the edge of a rug.
“No, no problem. What are you doing with that saw?” His looming figure and interrogating voice made Aoi gawk. She took a step back, almost falling over as she tripped against the bottom lip of the doorway.
“Bunk beds,” she stammered.
“Get back down there and finish ’em!” he ordered. “And don’t let me catch you wandering around again.”
Aoi swallowed and skittered away from the door. It had been bad enough she’d run into him after he punished her, but getting caught holding a saw after she’d cut her way through one of the middle decks made her queasy. Feeling more than a little sorry for how things had turned out, she spent the rest of the day working diligently just as she was told, constantly worrying Crimshaw would come find her in a huffing rage.
But what was done was done, and there’d be no way she could change it now. Before the workday had ended, she stashed the saw in the front window room in case they needed it. When they were called off the job, one of the guards made a comment about how all of the major construction was done. The only thing left was to put it in the water, load it up, and wave goodbye as it made off with months of hard work, every scrap of food from the farm, and their one chance of ever regaining their freedom.
When Aoi made it back to her tent, she explained what had happened to her friends. At every moment, she kept expecting Vern to show his disdain or accuse her of failing, but he just listened passively. Hearing about the doorless room under Crimshaw’s chamber made Mira sigh and stare longingly at her plans. Telling them she’d been caught left Chucky sinking his head into his hands as if he would cry.
“This is hopeless,” Chucky moaned. “We’re never going to make it. Might as well just stay here and eat leaves.”
“Please don’t give up on me,” Mira urged, shuddering. “I just want to see my family again, and this is the only way that’s ever going to happen. We’ll find a way. All we need to do is give it a chance to work.”
While both Mira and Chucky were wrought with tension, Vern looked much more relaxed. He leaned back, smiling almost.
“I don’t see what the big problem here is,” he declared. “Aoi told us everything we need to know to go through with it. We don’t need to worry about running into Crimshaw or sneaking into his room. If there’s a grate against the rear exterior, we can get to it from the outside. I hope you haven’t started to underestimate me. We’ll just walk there. It’ll be a snap.”
“You wouldn’t be able to carry us all from the front window, but if we made it to the back one you might be able to walk us around. It’s definitely an option, just as long as nobody falls into the propeller,” Mira considered.
“So we’d be shimmying through a metal tube right under Crimshaw’s nose? How do you expect us to do that without making any noise?” Chucky asked him.
“We’ll figure it out. We don’t have a choice,” Mira gulped. “Let’s focus on getting ourselves into the ship. We need to make sure Aoi knows which crates we’re in so she can put us in the right room. We’ve only got one shot at this. There can’t be any mistakes.”
They all looked at each other. The time for action was drawing dangerously close.
“That’s too bad,” Chucky said. “Because I bet we’ll find a way to make plenty of them.”
Chapter 12: The Laugh Riot
Grit dug under Roselyn’s fingernails as she dragged a grimy rag over the temple’s dirty floor. She had been pushing the mushy sludge around the hard, slick surface for over an hour, waiting the whole time for a chance to use the charcoal in her pocket on the statue looming over her. But the fear of being caught defacing their object of worship did not make her reluctant to set their escape in motion; Roselyn instead could not bring herself to look upon the one who brought her so close to death’s edge that her most prized possession had fallen over.
In all the time she lived at the mountain camp, Roselyn had never been able to look at the stone statue of Arent. The scars on her neck from when he held her up with the intention to extinguish her had yet to fade, and so often since then she had wondered what it meant that she had survived through such a capricious and callous form of luck. When Mira fired her rockets at him, they could have never known how narrowly they would save her life.
Wiping and washing, her eyes down at the floorboards, she could feel him looking at her through the statue. But what was he looking at? Even though she had discovered her gift expressed itself through more than just her voice, she still didn’t feel like a whole person. There were so many things she’d wanted to say but couldn’t, and it had been beaten into her head that most of the time things would go on fine if she didn’t say anything. Therefore her ideas really didn’t matter in the first place.
But this was her idea, and it would finally get them out as long as she could bring herself to face her enemy and Will could hold out until everyone assembled in the temple for prayer. She began to wonder what she would do if they were able to escape but Will had been lost. Her swiping with the rag slowed to a stop and she froze on all fours in deep contemplation. There would be no reason to go, no reason to run if he were not with her.
If he perished at Gloria’s toxic hands, she would happily become her next victim in a suit to avenge him. Roselyn wasn’t ready to admit to herself she loved him, but she had no choice but to accept she was with him nonetheless. And if Gloria desired to tear from her those last shreds of happiness, then there would be no limit to the fury she would wreak upon her. As Roselyn had grown to think herself closer to Will, Gloria’s affections and now her bitter spite became more and more offensive.
Reaching into her pocket, she took the strip of charcoal from her waistband and held it in her hand. Roselyn had two enemies, Arent and Gloria, and she steeled herself to the idea of simultaneously striking a blow against both of them. The pressure of her squeezing made the charcoal grow warm, almost as if it had some of its former fire still within it, and she shut her eyes hard.
Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet and turned to the statue with her head still listing to the side much as it had after he had made her limp. Turning her neck forward felt like grinding her face against gravel, but Roselyn was tired of being afraid, of feeling sorry for herself, of waiting passively for things to get better. Forcing her blue eyes onto those of her destroyer, lifeless in both material and expression, her retinas seemed to burn.
She would mark him with the essence at the bottom of her spirit. Though it spoke so much of the anger, resentment, and injustice he put around her neck, she sought to overcome those feelings just as much as she wanted t
o transcend her fear of looking at him. He had caused so much pain to so many, and in her way she would reclaim him, remaking him into a part of herself.
Holding the charcoal lightly in her hand, she let it drift across his lips, blackening and emboldening them. She stared into his face, one so bereft of comfort and so unmistakably forlorn, chalking his lips until they were laughably distorted. One stroke after another, she drew long eyelashes and rosy cheeks. A thick dot found its way onto the end of his nose. Roselyn traced along his hairline, making his scraggly and charred hair appear to be nothing more than an absurd wig. She drew and drew until the charcoal whittled down to flakes that slipped through her fingers.
When she had finished, Roselyn took a step back to admire her creation. He made a ghoulish clown, all in black, but in her mind she could see the rainbow of colors composing his makeup and costume. After a stilted breath, she even found his impression silly enough to make her smile, and she hoped it would be enough to flood the grounds with cheer in spite of the camp’s intolerance of anything of the kind.
Hearing approaching voices, Roselyn dove back to her bucket to resume her scrubbing. Mindless chatter preceded Roselyn’s usual tormenters, the matron and her silver-haired companion, who had come to ring the bell. Roselyn prayed they would do so without noticing her artistry. Then all the camp, Will and Mary included, would gather inside, leaving no one else to impede their escape.
Roselyn watched them come around the side of the temple out of the corner of her eye. There was nothing left to do but wait now, and being unoccupied led to fidgeting and heavy breathing. As the pair ducked under the roof and out of the sun, Roselyn turned her head to watch them climb up the steps.
“Put that bucket away now, Garbage Girl. How you manage to spend so much time cleaning here and only make the place dirtier is beyond me!” the matron bellowed.
Complying, Roselyn got up, grabbed the bucket, and started for the shed beyond them. She wondered what sort of hazing they would subject her too, but she walked right by them without a word. The pair instead peered through the woods and toward the mine at something, though they couldn’t see or hear anything from there.
“Alright, get to the bell now. We’ll see lunch the sooner these prayers are over,” the matron commanded her companion, who left the stairs and started toward the back of the temple.
Reaching into the creaky shed, Roselyn dropped the empty bucket inside just as she heard a chuckle coming from the temple. The clanging made her doubt her ears, and she stood still with her hand on the wooden door and waited for more. Sure enough, a healthy giggle drifted down from inside, and Roselyn spun in a fright to see the reason for it.
“What are you hyucking about now?” the matron asked, turning around and catching her peer loitering in the center of the temple. She started toward her, just as Roselyn did from much farther away.
The girl leaned to the side, snickers escaping her hand-covered mouth. The matron took hold of her shoulder and made sure she had the girl’s attention.
“Didn’t I just tell you to do something? Don’t get it into your head you can disobey me. There’ll be consequences for that. Now get to it!” she ordered, pushing the girl on. She took a few awkward steps before turning to give the matron a scornful glance as she marched to her task.
The matron started looking about for where the amusement came from. The prayer books were in order. Nothing out of the ordinary was on the ceiling. She twisted to glance back at the statue when Roselyn tapped her urgently on the shoulder.
“What is it now?” the exasperated woman growled.
Roselyn stood there holding the rag in her hands. She held it out, gesturing though she didn’t have a purpose in mind. The older woman scrunched up her face.
“Just put it away and stop being such a pest! I know you’ve got nothing to tell me.”
But Roselyn continued to dangle the rag for another moment, and then the blessed sound of the ringing bell echoed out around them. Roselyn couldn’t hide her relieved sigh, knowing that at any moment everyone would arrive. She pointed outside and then dragged the matron away from the statue.
“Get your hands off me. I can walk better’n you can talk,” she sniped, brushing off Roselyn’s hand but following her to the steps. “Now what’s so important you gotta show me?”
Holding onto the end of the rag, Roselyn slapped it against the woman’s face, leaving a grimy streak across her cheek and nose. Roselyn laughed openly as a steaming, vengeful look marred her counterpart, who poised herself to retaliate.
Will stumbled backward, trying desperately to keep his distance from Gloria, whose slow and steady advancement aligned with her despicably loving demeanor. They were just outside the mines and the bell had started to ring. Though people nearby began moving toward the temple, Mary watched from back near the woodpile.
“Can you just stop following me?” Will huffed, exasperated.
“No, I can’t do that,” Gloria said. “I’ve got to see it all, all this life even though you’re already dead.”
She had been stalking him all morning, at first peeking from behind buildings while he worked and then becoming bolder and more brazen. Every time he tried to get her to leave him alone, she would say something about savoring the anticipation. It made Will sick to his stomach, and each moment dragged on with the same persistent obstinacy. He knew now she had begun sauntering toward him she would never stop until she had him.
Even as he started for the temple and what he hoped would be their chance to escape, he could never take his eyes off her. As calm as she looked, he expected at each moment for her to charge at him with her gooey hands outstretched. She was already hunting him, but there was still hope she would fall in their trap before the final chase began.
“Have you ever killed anyone, Will? There’s really no other action that compares. One moment you’re alive and everything’s working, and the next…not,” she grinned.
“Yeah, I killed someone,” Will replied. Crouching, he felt back for a stump and backed around it. There was still some ways down the hill until they made it to the temple. He considered just running for it, planning for his getaway as soon as he hopped down a small ledge. Quickly darting his eyes, he saw Mary creeping toward them from the right.
“Yeah, but that wasn’t you. That was a knife. You didn’t mean to. It’s different when to kill is who you are. There’s no other purpose for this poisonous mush, the blood that flows through my veins. It comes from my heart and bleeds through wounds in my hands that will never heal. I tried so hard to fit in but there’s no denying this is just who I am.”
“No, it’s the same. I’ll never forget those faces. They haunt me,” Will said, slinking back.
“I used to think it drove people away, that I could never be close to anyone, but now I realize it’s the opposite. This is what brings us closer. Right now, you and I are together, Will. And from now on we’ll always be linked,” she gazed, gliding over the grass on deliberate, paced steps. She held her hands together, and the green waste dripped onto the grass. Things were so quiet Will could hear the drops burning up the grass.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” he sniped before quickly swiveling his head and catching his first glimpse of the temple through the trees. Strangely, most people were waiting outside, and something seemed to be going on.
“Of course I do. Just think of it, Will. The last person you ever see will be me. My touch will be the last that you feel. And if you look back on your life as a whole, it will all lead up to that one moment when we’re together. That’s how I’ll have all of you, forever,” she said, smiling and demurely lowering her eyes.
“You’re crazy!” Will shouted, looking behind himself for the approaching ledge. He could start to hear sounds of a scuffle and murmurings from the crowd.
“Really? You’ll have to let me know if I’m wrong,” she threatened, picking up speed.
Will couldn’t wait another moment. Spinning around, he took a few lo
ng strides to the ledge and then hoped down. Once he had cleared the trees and was in the air, he got a full view of the temple and the fight in progress. Roselyn fought the matron on top of the stairs. Before he dropped into the back of the crowd, he saw Roselyn kick her sandal against the woman’s shin.
Still wary of Gloria behind him, he ducked into the crowd of slaves. This fight was keeping them all from going inside. What was Roselyn doing? Working his way to the front, he kept jerking his head over his shoulder to see if Gloria was behind him. He didn’t see her though, and eventually he elbowed his way through to the front. The matron had a hold of Roselyn’s arm, and she squeezed with all her might. Swiveling his head, he saw Mary running closer from one end of the temple.
“Will, look out!” she yelled.
Jerking his head the opposite way, he saw Gloria rushing toward him. He took a step back toward Mary but collided with something hard in the open air. Stumbling around it, the space became darker and he quickly realized he’d knocked into Neeko. The pale boy in the dark uniform had his hands on his hips and was waiting for Gloria at the foot of the temple stairs. Up above, Roselyn thumped her opponent in the cheek with the butt of her hand.
“Can you take care of this?” Neeko whined to Gloria. “We’re supposed to have already started by now.”
Gloria slowed to a halt, her contentment degenerating into something altogether more growling and sour.
“Ugh. Why don’t you do it yourself? This is ridiculous,” she moaned, finally turning her attention to the top of the stairs. “Stop or I’ll kill you both!”
The pair froze instantly and looked down at everyone assembled below. Will had slunk off to the side, joining Mary at the very edge of the crowd.