“You all really think you’re going to escape through those windows?” I asked.
The girl shrugged. “We don’t know yet. No harm in looking.”
Looking was all Marty was able to do. “No good,” he called down. “The drop’s even father on the outside.”
“No bushes or nothing?”
“Nothing. What should I do now?”
“Do you see anything?”
“Whole bunch of trucks. That’s about it.”
“Climb back down.” said the bossy woman with a sigh. “Dammit.”
As soon as Marty was back on solid ground, the rest of them set to pulling down that goofy tower.
I was real glad when they’d finally stowed all that junk back where they found it. I didn’t want Lou and his buddies to think I’d had anything to do with it. Nutjobs, the lot of them.
As if cops would be kidnapping people and cutting them up! If we were locked in here, I figured it had to be for a good reason. The people in here were just like the people who had lost their heads in our neighborhood and turned tail with no plan. A bunch of scared bunnies.
I looked over at the not-old woman lying on her bunk. She was muttering to herself. Sometimes, she made like she was trying to get up, but every time, she’d only get so far before she flopped back down onto her bed like someone cut all her strings.
Just sick was all.
Like Dad.
I sure wished they’d let me stay with him, but with Lou there, I knew he’d be okay. It was Lou that had dropped me off at the center. He said he’d stay until Dad got settled in. Lou didn’t want Dad sent off to the sick bay either; I guess he knew how Dad was liable to act if he got in a black mood, but I’d told him to come get me if Dad started cutting lose.
It was weird not to have Dad around. Every few minutes, I’d think I should go check on him, then I’d remember he was safe and sound in the infirmary and feel dumb. A few seconds later I’d be thinking I should go check on him all over again. It was like when you wake up thinking you have to go to school, then realize it’s a Saturday. Not that I minded taking care of Dad, but not to have to be the one responsible for him every second of the day was a real relief.
After they finished putting away the pallets, the other folks drifted back to their beds. A few of them slept, but most of them just stared up at the ceiling. There were three little kids in there, and one of the women started reading them a story. I thought maybe I could finally get some sleep, but all that crazy talk had gotten my thoughts stirred up, and I couldn’t relax.
The bossy woman couldn’t chill out either. She kept hopping up totry the doors over and over, like they’d be magically unlocked if she just kept at it long enough.
“For Pete’s sake, give it a rest, Ostrinsky,” snapped an old guy.
The girl I’d talked to earlier wasn’t laying on her bed either. She sat with Mona, the sick lady. Now that Mona had her face turned my way, it was clear that somebody had done a number on her. Her black eyes were worse than mine, and her lip was split and puffy.
There were a million explanations for the marks on her that didn’t involve any bullshit about folks getting tortured, but I guessed it couldn’t do any harm to go over there. If I heard her ranting for myself, I’d know for sure it was bull, and maybe then I’d be able to relax enough to get some sleep.
Miss Snoot didn’t look happy to see me.
“What do you want?”
“Just to see if she’s all right, I guess.”
“She obviously isn’t.”
“Jeez, okay, sister.”
“I’m not your sister. My name is Gracie.”
“Okay, Gracie, I just wanted to see—”
“I bet you have a name too?”
“It’s Brandon. Look. I just wanted to see what she had to say since you all think it’s so important, but if you’re going to be a bitch about it…”
Gracie glared at me. “Ask her then. And don’t call me…that.”
I tried to hide my smirk behind my hand, but she saw it and blushed, still glowering away. What a dork!
“So…how’s it hanging, Mona?”
“They took her. My Stephie,” the woman moaned. She was more messed up than I’d thought. Two of her fingers were red and swollen—broken, I guessed—and thick red welts edged in yellow and purple blossoms of bruising covered what I could see of her legs, where the thin blanket had fallen aside. The bruises on her legs looked too even to be from a fall, and I didn’t like that one bit.
“Are you sure this didn’t happen before she got here?” I asked Gracie.
“I came in with her and her daughter. They took them away when we first got here. She was fine on the bus, but when they brought her back, she was like this.”
“What did the cops say happened to her? What did Lou say?”
“I don’t know any Lou. You mean the guy you came in with? Blond hair?”
“Yup, that’s him.”
“He’s not a regular. They bring people here from all over now. Only Frank, and Jean—who really is a…a bitch, by the way—stay here. The other cops leave. I told you, the suits are running the show. The cops are just here to slop out our food.” She paused, glancing to the doors. “And lock the doors.”
“No way.” I said. “Lou promised he was going to stay with Dad.”
She shrugged. “Just telling you what I know.”
I hopped up off the bed. I was sweating, and not just from the heat of the warehouse. “I need to speak to Lou. He can’t have gone anywhere. Dad can get real wild sometimes, and he needs someone he knows around. He’s been kind of confused lately.”
Gracie looked at me, then down at the ground.
“What?”
“Was he acting kind of sick? Like, out of it and stuff?”
I thought of the way Dad went crazy every time the ships went over, how he seemed not really to be himself when that happened.
“He got a flu or something, that’s what they thought. That’s why they sent him to the sick bay. Just flu.”
“Flu. Right. That’s what they said about Stephie.”
Mona stirred at the sound of her daughter’s name. “They took her!”
“I’m done listening to this,” I told Gracie. “I’m going to talk to Lou and get some straight answers.”
I got up off the bed and stalked over to the double doors. Heads swiveled in my direction. Screw them. Let them all enjoy the show.
I hammered on the doors. “Lou? Hey, Lou, it’s Brandon. Hey, Lou? You there?”
“We tried that,” said the bossy woman, Mrs. Ostrinsky. “They’re not going to let you out.”
“I don’t want letting out, I just want to know where my Dad is.”
“They’ll have to feed us sooner or later,” said the woman who’d been reading the story to the kids. “They will, right?” she added, hopefully, but no one answered her.
I hammered on the door some more. Didn’t even budge. After a while, the people who watched me lay back down again. I went on knocking until my knuckles were red and sore, but no one came.
“Get some sleep, kid,” said Mrs. Ostrinsky. “They’re not gonna leave us here forever.”
I didn’t want it to seem like I was giving up, but it was pointless banging on the doors all night. The cops were probably all sleeping by now anyway. I lay down on my bed and tried to sleep, but my mind was still too jumbled.
I wished that Dad was with me. There was no way Dad would have put up with being locked in like this. Only the girl, Gracie, was still awake. She kind of smiled at me when I looked over, but I ignored her and pulled my blankets up over my head.
I didn’t need her pity.
Brandon
opened my eyes to almost complete darkness. Someone shook my shoulder, and a flashlight beam flickered across my face, making me blink.
“Dad?”
“Brandon, it’s Lou.”
“Ha! She said you’d gone, but I knew you hadn’t. Is it Dad? Is he okay?”
>
“Keep it down. It’s not about him. Listen, you got to be quiet now. We need to get you all out of here, and we need to be real quiet.”
I glanced around the warehouse, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The other cops—Gracie had said their names were Jean and Frank—gently shook people awake, one by one.
One of the kids started to cry and was hushed by about ten different people all at once.
“What are you talking about?” I asked Lou “Where’s Dad? I’m not going anywhere without Dad.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
I grabbed Lou by the front of his shirt.
“No, simmer down, son. There isn’t time. They’re shutting this place down.”
“So they’re going to chuck us out? Big deal. We’ll find someplace else to go.”
“It’s not that simple. Seems that the Military are taking over, and that’s got Treen acting real crazy. He’s been…well, he hasn’t been playing by the rules here. Things could get ugly. That woman, Mona? She’s been blabbing, ain’t she? They thought if they kept her sedated, it would be okay. But the Military Brass are going to ask questions, and now Frank says that Treen’s got it in his head that you all are gonna spill the beans.”
“Wait, who’s Treen?” I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.
“The suit guy with the glasses, right?” whispered Gracie, appearing at Lou’s shoulder. Trust her to butt in on a private conversation.
“That’s him.” Lou nodded.
“We got to get Dad,” I said. “I don’t know what the hell you folks are talking about, but I’m not going anywhere without my dad.”
“I’ll go back in for Carl, Scout’s honor, Brandon, but we got to get you folks out first, while Treen and his buddies are still tucked away in the labs.”
“No offense, Lou, but I want to get him myself. I’m not letting him down again.”
“Brandon, you won’t be able to help him if they—”
“If they what?” Gracie interrupted. “What are they gonna do to us? What about Mona? I don’t know if she can walk.” Her voice came out as a high-pitched squeak.
Scared little bunny.
“Look, kids, there isn’t time for this. Either you go now or you take your chances here. We’re taking the buses and splitting. I’m real sorry, Brandon, I didn’t know what the situation was here. You’ve got to believe me.”
People gathered over by the warehouse loading bay, yawning and rubbing their eyes. The little boy started to cry again, and the lady holding him rocked and shushed him until he simmered down to a soft whine.
I felt like crying too. We were supposed to be safe here. What in the hell was happening?
“You coming?” asked Gracie. She’d fetched a backpack from under her bed, and stuffed extra blankets from the abandoned cots into it.
“My dad is back there. I can’t go until I find him.”
“That cop said they’d go back in for him. You don’t even know where they’re keeping him.”
The woman cop, Jean, unlocked the loading bay doors. Lou was with Mona, trying to haul her to her feet. Other than them, me and Gracie were the only ones not lined up by the doors. Gracie kept looking over there, eager to join them, like a good little girl scout. I didn’t know why she felt she had to stay and bug me. I guessed some people were just born to interfere.
“I can’t,” I told her. “Seriously. If you want to go, go.”
“You’re not going to find him locked up in here,” she said. “At least, let’s get out of the warehouse.”
The cops slid the loading bay doors up slowly so they wouldn’t rattle too much.
The crowd started to file forward, then suddenly surged back. Some people fell, trampled on as the others continued backing up. The people on the floor cried out in pain and the lady cop swore before the silence was torn apart by the roar of gunfire.
The people at the front of the crowd jerked and fell. Others ran back into the warehouse, slipping and sliding in what I realized was blood. Some of them tipped the camp beds over and tried to hide behind them.
Lou let Mona fall to the floor, then drew his service revolver. “Get back!”
The suit guys flooded in though the loading bay doors, the rattle of their guns echoing loudly in the cavernous warehouse. The stink of smoke and blood made me dizzy. Two women darted to the left of me and were cut down by bullets. As I gaped, Lou clipped one of the gunners who fell to the floor with his hand clamped over his arm. Lou fumbled for his belt, reloading his gun. Spent casings dropped to his feet. “Brandon, what are you still doing here—” his sentence was cut in two as a bullet caught him right in the side of the neck, tearing his throat apart. The hot spray of his blood misted my skin, and I gasped, too shocked to summon a scream.
Someone tugged my hand. “Get up! Move!” Gracie’s face was white, and seemed like the only bright thing in that whole warehouse. “We’re gonna stay low. We’re gonna stay by the walls, where it’s dark.”
I stared at her, too numb to understand what she was even saying. She shook her head impatiently, then yanked me off my bed. My ears rang from the shotgun blasts, dulling out the sound of the chaos around me. I tried to focus on Gracie’s back. Just keep going, one foot in front of the other.
A little knot of people slumped up against the wall in front of us. One of them moaned, his arm hanging from a shred of gristle and bone. It was Marty, I realized. The climber. Blood pumped out of his arm onto the floor, like a special effect from a movie.
Even as I walked through Marty’s blood, the carnage didn’t seem real, but I knew that smell. That sick scent of gore made me think of Dad, gutting his deer, chopping it up into pieces for the Beidermanns. My stomach rolled and I bent over, heaving up strings of bile.
Jean had the suits pinned near the door. She was crouched behind a support girder and she shot with steely calm whenever one of them tried to move forward. It felt good to have her between us and them, but I knew it was only a matter of time ‘til she ran out of bullets.
“Stay there,” Gracie snapped shoving me against the wall. She started sneaking out across the open space of the warehouse, staying low, but still a sitting duck if any of the suits happened to look her way. I wanted to tell her to come back, but I couldn’t risk drawing attention to either one of us. She stooped over one of the bodies, and as she turned it over, a badge glinted in the moonlight.
Frank.
Gracie tugged at his belt. What the hell? Was she after the gun? I waited as she crawled back to where I crouched, sure that I’d see bullets rip into her flesh at any second, but the guys in suits had pulled back for now, none of them wanting to risk Jean putting a bullet in their heads, I guessed.
“I got the keys,” hissed Gracie.
I ran behind her along the back wall of the warehouse, expecting a flashlight to find me, to hear the rattle of machine guns, but we made it to the door. Gracie slipped key after key into the lock, trying to find one that would fit. I was beginning to think she’d grabbed the wrong set altogether when the lock finally clicked and we stumbled through into a dark corridor.
“Shit, this is the wrong door,” said Gracie.
“What do you mean ‘the wrong door?’ “ I panted.
“I thought we’d come out near the lobby. I don’t know where we are.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find a way out.”
The walls of the corridor were solid brick. No windows to climb out of. We crept toward a dim light at the far end, stopping every now and then to listen for any people who might be lurking in the shadows.
Gracie grabbed my arm again and gave it a tug, but I pulled myself free.
“You don’t have to drag me along.”
“Fine,” she whispered. “But keep up, okay? If you start freaking out, I’m going to leave you.”
“Suits me,” I told her. She’d gotten lucky so far, but that didn’t mean I needed her help.
The corridor opened out into a
lit stairwell, and in it, there was a big double door, propped open to reveal a sliver of starry sky. The night smelled like grass, and crickets shrilled—a sane, soothing noise to my ringing ears.
“Yes!” whispered Gracie. “There might be more of them out there, so just stick with me and—”
“I already told you I’m not going.”
Gracie’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth like she had something to say, only nothing came out. Then she sighed. “Your dad?”
I would have liked to have walked through those doors, into that sweet-smelling night more than anything else in the whole world, but how could I leave him behind?
“You go,” I whispered. “You saved my life back there, I guess, but he once saved my life too, and that’s the whole reason he’s stuck in this mess. I can’t go without him.”
“How are you going to find him?” she asked. “You don’t even know where they’re keeping them. You don’t know if he’s still alive.”
“I’ll believe he’s dead when I see it with my own eyes,” I told her. But I knew he couldn’t be dead.
I turned my back on the night sky and started up the stairs, forcing my wobbly legs to climb one after the other. I had just turned onto the first landing when Gracie appeared at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Wait. I’m going with you.”
“Go away,” I hissed at her, but she shook her head.
“No way. If you really have to do this, then you’re less likely to get killed with another set of eyes.”
“I don’t need your help no more.”
“You really are an idiot,” she said, then we both froze. The sound of boots clattered up the staircase behind us.
Our eyes met, and then we took off running as quietly as we could up the stairs. The footsteps below us grew louder. As soon as whoever it was turned the next dog-leg of the stairs, they’d surely see us. Gracie crammed key after key into the door on next floor we came to, but the footsteps kept coming, and we had to run up another floor and start over.
We struck lucky with the third key, and I shoved Gracie through the door and shut it softly behind us. Gracie started fumbling with the key again.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
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