Mapmaker

  Dr. Preston punched a code into the keypad, and the door slid open. I followed her into another small chamber—more of a real elevator, a steel box. When the door closed behind us, I heard the hum of machinery. I couldn’t tell if we were moving up or down. I told myself to stay calm. But it was impossible. Creeping terror took hold. My breathing became labored. They don’t even need to kill me, I realized. I’ve already been erased from existence. Cleo and Gretchen were the only two people who knew I was here. If they were dead—and there was only so much denial I could indulge—then I’d have to figure out a way to escape. Most likely I would die trying.

  “Tanya, are you all right?” Dr. Preston asked.

  I glared at her. The door opened onto a nondescript hall.

  “Try to relax,” she said, her voice businesslike. “You aren’t in any danger.” She led me up a stairwell to an adjoining identical hallway. I furiously concentrated on my inner compass. I was pretty certain this hall faced north … no, northeast. But because it was impossible to tell if we had gone up or down in the elevators, I was disoriented.

  We came to a door, and I glanced wildly up, down, and sideways, hoping to feel that invisible tug. I didn’t, but for the first time I spotted tiny black orbs in the lighting fixtures: surveillance cameras.

  Dr. Preston swiped her card through the door handle. My lips parted slightly. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised; maybe I’d been expecting to be escorted to an interrogation cell. This was more like a living room spread from some glitzy real-estate website. White sofas ringed a pale blue rug; huge windows looked out to the sea.

  “This could be where you live,” said Dr. Preston. “Isn’t it spectacular?”

  My body went cold. I shivered again, wrapping the heavy lead jacket around me, tucking my hands into the sleeves.

  “I’ll show you where you’ll work alongside your father,” she added.

  She moved to another door inside the house. It was made of gorgeous pine, and it didn’t require a swipe card—there was just a regular brass knob. Just like a real home. She turned it, revealing a high-tech office. It was as large as the renovated third floor at MapOut, only there were no cubicles. The desks were all empty, except for one. My father occupied it, sitting in front of two monitors, his back to me. The air was filled with a strange sound, pumped seemingly from every direction: a drumbeat, then a whoosh like a wave, then another drumbeat. On the screen was a shaky black-and-white image, moving in time with the rhythm.

  “What is that?” I asked Dr. Preston.

  Similar images played from the hundreds of high-definition monitors around the room. The sound was so familiar, yet I couldn’t place it.

  “Why don’t you ask your father?” she encouraged gently. “Go on. He’s waiting.”

  I walked over to him, my legs shaky. I almost hesitated when I reached for his shoulder. It was a reflex from home; he hated being disturbed when he worked. He looked up and smiled before I could make contact.

  “Tanya, sit down. I’m anxious to show you what we’re making here.”

  I slumped down in the empty chair behind him. Only when I exhaled did I notice I’d been holding my breath.

  “This is a heart,” he said. “Did you know that everyone has a unique heartbeat? Think of it as an aural fingerprint. A signature in sound. The heart is always sending a message to the world.”

  I couldn’t follow him. The shock still hadn’t worn off. “I … don’t know what you mean, Dad,” I stammered.

  “What I mean is, unlike fingerprints, the heart can always be heard. We are finding a way to track everyone by his or her heartbeat, starting at birth. In a way, we’ll be mapping humanity itself.”

  His tone was genial, robotic. He sounded like a telemarketer. Reaching forward, he switched the image on the monitor; it flashed to an aerial view of the room we were in now. We seemed to be sitting closer together than I’d realized. He typed in the words: heartbeat detection Michael Barrett. The computer flashed an image of my father in real time facing the screen. He typed in the word: track Michael Barrett.

  “We won’t need surveillance cameras anymore,” he said. “Just satellites in the sky. This is what I mean, Tanya. No living creature will ever be lost again.”

  In the reflection of the computer screen I saw Dr. Preston standing behind us.

  “Did you show Tanya the beach?” he asked. “The water and fresh air are so nice.”

  “Not yet,” replied Dr. Preston coldly. “We have some business to attend to first. Come with me, Tanya.”

  “Bye, sweetheart,” my dad said in the same distant voice. His fingers were already typing again; the monitor flashed to a satellite image of the Earth.

  I couldn’t say goodbye.

  “Would you like to see the beach?” Dr. Preston asked.

  At this point, if she’d pointed a gun at my head and asked if I wanted to die, I would have agreed. I would have agreed to anything. Maybe this was how they’d turned my father into this zombie. Not through pills, but through the certain knowledge that he would never be leaving, ever. He was dead.

  “Why not?” I said.

  She led me back into the house, then downstairs to another nondescript hallway. This one wasn’t silent, however. The sounds of seagulls and waves grew louder with each step we took toward the door at the hall’s end. “Mapmakers don’t like dead-ends,” my father had been fond of saying; now dead ends were his only option. Again she swiped the key card; again the door slid open. We stepped onto a concrete floor with concrete walls. A second set of doors slid open and I winced at a blast of sunshine.

  A moment later, I stepped onto pale, fine sand. Clear blue water slopped down into a large pool, and soft waves rolled in. I felt sick. There were children here. Two boys, maybe nine or ten—they must have been twins—batted around a beach ball. A girl of about six played with a toy mermaid at the edge of the water. The walls looked like a real sky, with moving clouds, a hot sun. A teenage lifeguard was perched in a chair, complete with sunblock on his nose. I guessed if you were a child you would think this was real. Maybe for the children it was better than real. Maybe they’d never known anything else. In that way, it was real. This was my dad’s real life now, too. And mine.

  The girl playing with her mermaid doll glanced up at me. I could see a red scar on her chest, right over her bathing suit. The boys had the scar, too, in the same spot: slightly to the left. So did the lifeguard. My father’s words reverberated in my mind: “No living creature will ever be lost again.” And all the heartbeats in that room. A sickening thought formed. Like my father, these people were all being tracked. He probably had the same scar, too.

  I scanned the walls, the water. My father had mentioned the water, the air, that it came from outside. Somewhere behind these walls there must be air shafts and huge water pipes. Which meant there might be a way out.

  “Take off your shoes,” Dr. Preston encouraged. “Make yourself at home.”

  I did as she said. The sand was real, hot from the fake sun. I dipped my feet in the water as it softly lapped toward the shore. Only then did I catch a faint whiff of chlorine mixed with the smell of salt water.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Dr. Preston said.

  I tried to hide any emotion. “It feels real.”

  “It feels better,” she said. “There’s no danger here. No sharks or undertow. The children can play freely. If they start to struggle, they would not drown. If you live here and work for us, you can use this beach whenever you want.” She took a deep breath and her tone shifted. “Now let me show you where you’ll live if you don’t cooperate.”

  After pulling my shoes and socks back on, I followed her into the cold concrete antechamber. The door closed behind us, and the fluorescent overhead lights popped on. Once again, I heard that faint hum. Again, I couldn’t tell if we’d moved. But we must have moved, because when the door opened again, it wasn’t to the same hall through which we’d entered.

  There was a rancid smell in the air
. The lights were different here: blue and dim. A machine-gun-wielding guard, dressed in the same plain black uniform as the guard I’d seen before, wandered up and down the narrow corridor. It was lined with metal doors that stretched for at least a hundred yards.

  Then I heard a muted scream.

  This was a prison. Dr. Preston nudged me forward. We passed the guard, who seemed to study my face intently. I peeked through the tiny windows of each cell as we passed, expecting to see some kind of torture scene, but the cells were all empty, devoid even of furniture.

  Dr. Preston stopped outside one, seemingly at random. Through the thick bulletproof glass I could see a bare mattress, someone hunched over in pain. Dr. Preston rapped on the window. The person started, whirling to stare at us with wide eyes. His face was bruised, swollen. At first I didn’t recognize him.

  “Connor?” My voice wavered unsurely.

  The door swung open. He looked at me but didn’t speak. He didn’t move from his place on the floor. His eyes were filled with fear.

  He looked broken. I wanted to reach out to him. I turned to Dr. Preston. “What have you done to him?”

  “He was uncooperative. We’re hoping he’ll change his mind.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  She waved the guard over. “Of course. That’s why I brought you here.” Then she smiled down at Connor. “Young man? You have a visitor.”

  I didn’t hear the door close behind me or the electronic click of the lock. Connor sat on a mattress, gaping up at me like a frightened child. He’d been so badly beaten. I wondered if his cheekbones or nose were broken. His left arm was in a cast. I stepped toward him. Before I knew it, he was sweeping me into his arms.

  I hugged him as tightly as I could. His skin felt hot, but he was shivering. He rested his head on mine and I could feel his body shake with silent sobs. As much as it pained me, I hadn’t realized how much I craved human contact until this moment. This place was inhuman.

  “What did they do to you?” I murmured.

  “Look up,” he whispered as we held each other. Slowly I lifted my eyes.

  Surveillance cameras were mounted in all four corners of the cell. Of course they were. Could they hear us, too? Even if we stood this close whispering? He withdrew from my embrace and took my wrist, opening my hand. We locked eyes. I knew exactly what he meant to do. In that instant, we were little children again. With his shaky forefinger, he started tracing letters in the palm of my hand.

  E

  S

  C

  A

  P

  E

  I took his hand and returned his fearful gaze, mimicking what he’d done. There was only one option and I knew it was time. I would risk my life now. If I failed, I would die and I would be forgotten, erased. If I succeeded, if by some miracle I managed to get us out of here, I would tell the world about this awful place. I traced out the letters:

  G

  U

  N

  I touched my forearm, felt the slim strip of the weapon Cleo had given me. I slipped the cylinder from inside my sleeve to my wrist. His eyes flashed to it and then back to mine again. I knew he understood. It was hidden from the guards and Dr. Preston, concealed by my jacket sleeve. I felt for the screen on the side, touching my thumb to it once. What would it do exactly? I wished I’d asked Cleo to explain it better to me. Laser meant nothing. All I could think of was Star Wars.

  The door slid open.

  “It’s time to say goodbye to Connor,” Dr. Preston announced. She stepped into the cell. The guard stood behind her in the hallway.

  “I can’t!” I cried. I swept him into a tight hug. “You take the doctor,” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll get the guard.”

  “Enough, get ahold of yourself.” She whirled to the guard. “Separate them,” she ordered.

  The guard strode into the cell. Gripping the weapon, I whirled and aimed, pressing my thumb to the screen again. Nothing. Nothing emanated from the end, neither light nor sound. He lunged at me, pushing me roughly to the door. Why wasn’t it working? I pointed it at him again, holding my thumb down, aiming at his right eye.

  All of a sudden he froze, solid. It was as if he’d transformed into a statue. His right eye turned black. The pupil and iris disappeared. For a second I thought I might vomit. He fell backward against the cinder block wall and tumbled to the floor.

  Without hesitating, Connor took the key card from the guard and the gun from his holster. Dr. Preston dashed into the hallway.

  “Help!” she barked.

  I chased after her. The moment she turned back to me, I pointed the laser at her left eye and pressed the button. Her body stiffened in the same way, her pupil dilating like a spreading stain of black ink. This time I didn’t feel the slightest bit queasy. I watched as she hit the floor, her head smashing against the concrete. I felt nothing.

  I grabbed Connor, pulling him down the hall. He shoved the key card in my hand. Maybe he was worried that he was too shaky. But I was no better. I swiped the key card; the prison doors slid open. We were in a corridor I didn’t recognize, also lined with doors. I tried one. It didn’t open. Neither did the second or third. I was frantic, desperate for a place to hide, when I realized all the doors were phony. Like so much of this place, they were part of an elaborate mirage.

  Sirens blared.

  Connor looked at me, eyes wide.

  “My dad said the air and water come from outside,” I said, searching for any possible escape. “He was trying to tell me something. There must be a way out through the vents or water tunnels.”

  “They would be inside the walls,” he whispered.

  At the end of the hall, a door opened. Two guards ran out. Again, Connor didn’t hesitate. He fired. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, nearly deafening me. My ears stung and rang. But he succeeded in scaring them off. Crouching low, the guards quickly ducked through another door to the side. The moment their escape route closed, Connor ran past it and through the door from which they’d entered. I was fast on his heels. The doors shut and we were back on one of the elevators.

  I swiped my key card, and the light overhead turned on, along with the hum. Maybe twenty seconds later, it opened on the widest hall I’d encountered yet, with a marble floor. It was lined with carved wooden doors, beautiful and elegant, like I’d seen inside the “house.” My ringing ears perked up; I could hear the crash of waves. We were near the beach. I worked on one side of the hall, pulling open every door, identical lush room after identical lush room—until I opened up on a room with a view of the ocean. There was nowhere to hide. None of the doors had locks. It looked as though you could open the window and run on the beach for miles.

  I felt the “window” where the air was coming through, the large thin screen displaying 3-D images of a virtual outside world. I knew it must be connected to an electrical source behind the wall.

  Without a word, Connor nodded. Together we tore it down, using the butt of the machine gun to smash the bolts. As it collapsed to the floor, it revealed a narrow space full of electrical wires, vents, and pipes.

  We climbed inside. There was only one right direction to go: up.

  The only option was to the left or right. I chose left, as it would take us back toward the elevator. The elevators went up; that I knew for certain. We hit another intersection; I chose left again. As quietly as I could, I scrambled through the mass of wires, Connor at my feet, farther and farther from the hole in the wall.

  All around us were muffled voices and sirens. The narrow duct grew darker. My head struck a wall. We’d come to a dead end. In the pitch-darkness we were trapped at the end of a tunnel.

  But I felt a breeze overhead. I felt with my fingers and they brushed over a metal grate. “I think there’s something above us.” It was embedded in the surrounding concrete. I punched it but it didn’t budge. I punched it again and again until my hand was bleeding. I looked down into the darkness. The alarms sounded from within echoing inside the walls of t
he underground compound.

  “Give me the laser,” Connor said. “Your weapon.”

  It took some maneuvering in the cramped space even to hand it to him. I was sweating now. Connor aimed the laser gun at the edges where the metal was sealed to the concrete. A brilliant spot of white light began to sizzle right overhead, followed by a cascade of dust and rubble. I coughed and held my breath, then tugged. It was loose, but not enough. He aimed again and again, until it finally fell on top of my head.

  I didn’t even feel the pain. My eyes were greeted by the sweetest sight I’d ever seen: a sixty-three-foot ladder, ending in another grate. And beyond that grate was grey sky. Real sky. I shoved the grate against the dead end.

  This must have been where the fresh air was being pumped in through the ventilation system. The sound of machinery hummed from outside. I could smell the cold, feel it against my skin. Wild hope coursed through my exhausted body. I started up the ladder. Connor was right behind me.

  Blood from the gash in my forehead dripped into my eyes. I could feel the sting, but it distracted me from the numbness of my fingers as we clawed our way toward those Arctic clouds. Just seven more feet …

  “Are you okay?” Connor whispered below me.

  “Hand me the laser.”

  Once again, I burned away the grate bolts. I didn’t look down; I didn’t want to have a flash of vertigo and take Connor down with me. The moment the grate was loose, I shoved it out of the way and clambered out into the frozen wilderness. I gave Connor a hand as I scanned the area, panting, my breath coming in icy bursts. An uneven pile of boulders surrounded us on three sides. There was no person in sight; the house was nowhere to be seen, and the only distinguishable sound was the river. The air smelled of damp earth and sweet flowers.

  “Can you run?” I gasped at him.

  I must have looked as awful as he did because he replied, “Can you?”

  “Of course.” I stepped out from behind the boulders—clearly they’d been placed to hide the grate—and spotted the river, the mountains in the background. Between us and the river was a slope of green-and-brown tundra, a patch of pink flowers growing alongside the riverbank. In a flash, I knew exactly where I was and where I needed to go.