Coop, Jeffery, and I looked one another in the eye for half a second before we headed for Isaac.
“Hold up,” said Kia, dropping out of sight.
Paige and Madeline huddled together at the end of the girls’ cubicles.
“Are you coming?” I asked, reaching out my hand.
Madeline stuck her nose in the air. “Into the boys’ rooms? No way.”
“Won’t we get in trouble?” Paige twisted her fingers together.
“Are you kidding? No one’s going to notice with everything else that’s going on right now.”
She smiled and raced to catch up with us.
After plowing a path through several hundred spaceships and aliens on the floor and shoving Isaac’s table to one side, the six of us lined up at his big window.
“It looks like a SWAT team,” said Kia. “What in the world would they be doing here?”
My heart thumped hard and fast in my chest. Only one thing I knew of would cause a crackdown on the workhouse. Paige gave my arm a quick squeeze. She thought so too. Somehow that little first-floor girl had gotten our flash drive into the hands of someone who could do something about it. Every nerve in my body tingled. This was it. We’d done it! We’d stopped Honey Lady. She wouldn’t be able to hurt the lower-floor kids anymore, and maybe someone would fix the mess she’d made of our accounts.
“Nothing’s happening,” said Jeffery. My breath caught in the back of my throat. He was right. Something was wrong down there. “They’re standing around—they’re armed and ready, but no one’s coming inside.”
“Miss Smoot must be putting up a fight.” Coop blurted out a laugh. “Can’t you just see her and that receptionist lady hunkered down behind a sofa in the lobby?”
“Maybe the SWAT team will have to laser-blast their way inside,” said Isaac, bouncing on his toes at the thought.
I didn’t even crack a smile at their jokes.
“I’m going down.” I made for the door before the last of my words came out. “I can sneak them inside through the emergency exit, if nothing else.”
Kia and Isaac stayed at the window, waiting for the SWAT team to break out the laser guns, I guess. Paige sprinted for her bedroom to retrieve her butane candle lighter and met up with me, Coop, and Jeffery in the elevator hallway a few seconds later. I’d just crumpled a piece of paper and lifted it up for Paige to touch with the flame when we heard the ding of the elevator. No! Not now when we’re only seconds away from slipping into the stairwell! The click-click of high heels against the hard floor boomed so loudly through the closed space that I wanted to cover my ears.
The clicks stopped, and a gravelly voice spoke. “Just the four people I need.”
Crab Woman? She stood at the end of the hallway, her reading glasses swaying from the chain around her neck, holding a—whoa!—gun in her hand. My arms shot straight out at my sides in a wimpy attempt to shield Paige and Jeffery.
“All right, come along,” she said.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see when we get there. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I won’t unless you force me to.”
I tried to stall. “But why . . .”
“No more questions. Move!” She twitched the gun, directing us into the elevator.
Obediently, the four of us shuffled inside and huddled together in one corner. Crab Woman took some sort of remote out of her pocket and pressed a button that started our descent. She hadn’t said a word.
Coop was silent too, for once in his life. Paige and Jeffery both clung to my arms, trembling enough to register on the Richter scale.
When the doors swooshed open, we found ourselves looking at a much larger space than the hallways we were used to on the other floors.
“Out,” said Crab Woman.
Tripping over one another’s feet, we moved out of the elevator.
“Basement,” said Coop. He had to be right. We walked through a dim space full of exposed pipes and wires lining the unfinished ceiling and walls.
“Stop here.” Keeping the gun trained on us, Crab Woman circled around from behind and stepped up to a closed door. She entered a number code into a keypad and held still for an eye scan. The door swished open, and she nodded us through. It turned out to be some sort of windowless storage room, full of electronic equipment. This, at least, was well lit. Before we had the chance to get a good look around us, the door slid shut. Crab Woman settled herself at the one small table and chair in a corner by the door.
“Have a seat,” she said. “We’re going to be here for a while.”
The four of us twisted around, trying to spot another chair or bench or something.
“On the floor,” said Crab Woman, flicking a pointed finger toward the far side of the room. “Against that wall. No one’s going to get hurt if you just sit there quiet.”
The room was about the size of one of our bedrooms upstairs. Three long rows of freestanding, open-sided metal shelves full of computers, monitors, and all sorts of other wire-dripping equipment took up much of the space. When we slumped down on the floor, we had a clear view of Crab Woman but were far enough away to be able to talk softly amongst ourselves without her overhearing.
Keeping her eyes on us, she stood up and pulled a laptop off a nearby shelf.
“What do you think is going on?” asked Jeffery.
“This has to be about the flash drive. The SWAT team, the blanking out computers—it’s all related.” I thunked the back of my head softly and repeatedly against the wall behind me.
“She’s in on it with Smoot.” Coop spoke quietly to us, then louder to Crab Woman. “Aren’t you? You and Smoot are together on this whole scheme.”
Crab Woman didn’t have to say a word for me to know Coop was right. I should have figured her into my calculations when she brought Honey Lady the wiped laptop that day in the First Floors’ room. She probably helped her destroy all the files.
“Who else?” I asked her. “Are the guards in on it too?”
Crab Woman’s eyes were focused on her laptop. “Splitting the money two ways is hard enough. We have a good security team here—every one of them does exactly what he’s told without questions.”
“Maybe there’s hope,” I whispered. “Maybe one of the guards will come down here and find us.”
“What would bring one of them down here?” asked Jeffery.
Coop slumped deeper into his slouch on the floor. “Hate to burst your bubble, bro, but I’m not holding my breath for that one.”
“Why go to the trouble of locking us down here at all?” asked Paige, her eyes wet. “What’s the point?”
None of us could answer.
Crab Woman sat at the table, the gun lying next to the open laptop. We couldn’t see the screen, but she had the sound turned up really loud. When my friends and I were quiet, we could hear the audio from the laptop. Interesting that she had wireless Internet down in the basement. The building must have zones, blocking cell phone and unscreened Internet access in all areas where kids might use it and allowing it everywhere else. Crab Woman settled on a news feed, sitting back in her chair and frowning at the screen.
“Kent Kearsley, reporting live from outside the Midwest Federal Debt Rehabilitation Agency workhouse,” came the slightly crackled-with-static voice from the laptop.
“He’s outside, dude,” whispered Coop. “Right here. Right now.”
The rest of us shushed him. We wanted to listen.
“Shockwaves are still rippling through the country,” continued Kent Kearsley, “as the people of this nation ask the question: Are abuses occurring in a place the government billed to us as ‘a safe home-away-from-home where children can become a great asset to their families and the community at large’? The answer is still unclear at this time. At this very moment authorities are waiting to gain access to the building and find out whether the children inside are victims—or if some of those very children have played an elaborate hoax on us all.”
&nb
sp; “Hoax? What is he talking about?”
I shushed Jeffery and leaned forward, straining to catch every one of Kent Kearsley’s words.
“As you can imagine, with all the children in residence, authorities are proceeding with extreme caution. The word I’ve received is that the director of this facility, Sharlene Smoot, will gladly allow them in as soon as she has accounted for and can assure the safety of each and every one of the children under her care.”
“Uh, yoo-hoo!” Coop raised one long arm over his head. “I think she missed four of us.”
Crab Woman shot him a crusty glare, while I elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“Quiet! Don’t make her mad.” Paige’s soft words mixed with her muffled sobs.
“While we’re waiting, let me recap,” said Kent Kearsley. “Twelve-year-old Jessica Richards of Ravenna, Ohio, smuggled allegedly condemning information on a flash drive out of this very workhouse just over one week ago. She then passed the flash drive to Nicole Hopkins—a sales representative for Great Lakes Organics—in the restroom of the Speedy Spot convenience store off Interstate 94. Unaware of what she possessed, Ms. Hopkins let the flash drive sit in her purse until yesterday afternoon, when she took a look at the files. Ms. Hopkins immediately turned the flash drive over to authorities.”
Unbelievable. Jessica had handed the flash drive to the first non-FDRA person she met. It could have easily gotten lost or destroyed or forgotten. I couldn’t dwell on the huge risk I’d taken by trusting Jessica, because Kent Kearsley wasn’t taking a break.
“Now, we have not been informed what specific incriminating evidence the flash drive contains, nor are we clear about the exact nature of the abuses allegedly committed against the children of the Midwest FDRA workhouse. What’s more, when first contacted earlier today, Ms. Smoot insisted the contents of the flash drive are fabrications—completely untrue and created by a group of highly intelligent children who live in this facility. As you can see from the security team surrounding the building behind me, authorities are prepared for whichever scenario turns out to be correct. As soon as permission is given, a team will enter the building and begin an inspection of files and interviews with the children in residence.”
The turned-off light on my ankle monitor caught my eye. Oh. I got it now. It all made sense.
“No interviewers are going to make it to the basement, are they?” I called across the room to Crab Woman. “Nobody will know we’re hidden away down here. We’re the only people in the workhouse who know the truth. You’re not going to give us the chance to defend ourselves.”
The four of us had decided not to tell the other Top Floors the truth about the workhouse until we learned whether the flash drive got out or not. We couldn’t see the point in getting Kia, Madeline, and Isaac all angry and excited unless something was actually going to come of it. That had been a mistake. A big one.
“Hey,” said Coop, catching on now too. “Miss Smoot is going to convince the good-guy dudes that we’re a bunch of punk pranksters, setting out to cause a country-wide jaw-dropper by making up the stuff on that flash drive. That’s totally fried, man!”
“Shh!” Paige’s mouse voice squeaked with anxiety. “You guys. She has a gun!”
Crab Woman didn’t say anything. She just sat, tight-lipped, staring at her computer.
“What are you going to do with us once everyone leaves?” I asked, digging the tips of my fingers into the hard cement floor beneath me. “You won’t be able to let us stay in the workhouse, since we’d tell the other kids the truth. You’re planning to ship us off somewhere, aren’t you—to some juvenile detention center where everyone will think every word we speak is a lie.”
“That’s not fair!” said Jeffery.
Paige cried more loudly next to me.
“I bet they’ll split us up, too,” I said. “They’ll keep us in solitary confinement for a while, until they break us down so hard we won’t dare try to get our story out.”
“Dude, that’s so twisted!”
“That’s the best-case scenario. What do you bet a couple of us never make it to that juvie center?” I was getting so mad, the horror of what I was saying didn’t even register. “While we’re traveling there, one or more of us will be involved in some sort of tragic accident.”
The way Crab Woman sat watching her computer and completely ignoring us made me even angrier.
“No.” Paige’s soft voice came out surprisingly calm. “All they have to do is force us to stare at the lower-floor computers.”
Crab Woman shot a quick glance at us, shifted slightly in her seat, and then refocused her attention on her computer. A wave of ice water gushed through my body. Paige was right. Crab Woman and Honey Lady planned to turn us into living zombies. We’d end up like Brock Reginald.
Looking up at Crab Woman, I slowly shook my head from side to side.
She sneaked another look at us. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to turn out just fine.”
“Fine for you, maybe!” I yelled. “But what about us?” The muscles in my legs tensed. It was all I could do to keep myself from launching across the room and attacking her.
She’d picked up the gun, though, and held it pointed at us. “Just sit still. Be quiet. All of you!”
Frustration ate me up from the inside. Help stood only a few dozen feet away, on the front lawn of this building, yet we were powerless to do anything other than sit and wait for our brains to get turned into mush.
CRAB WOMAN TURNED BACK TO THE laptop screen, her fingers remaining tightly curled around the gun—although she lowered it to her lap.
She tapped a few buttons to turn up the volume of Kent Kearsley’s voice. “You’re with us live as authorities are entering the building. What we’re showing you now is the director of this facility, Sharlene Smoot, as she is opening the front doors and letting a small group of investigators inside.”
Let the lying begin. Honey Lady could do it too. She’d sweet-talk the investigators onto her side within minutes.
“And now the doors slide shut,” said Kent Kearsley. “We will keep you informed of any further developments the instant they happen.”
Long minutes ticked away with no new reported developments. Crab Woman continued to watch, her eyes beginning to glaze over and her mouth stretching into a wide yawn every so often. Coop shoulder-nudged me. We sat silently, watching as her head sank forward and then jerked back up fast. Clearing her throat, Crab Woman adjusted herself to sit up straight in her chair. With the gun lying across her thighs, she turned to the laptop. She must have brought up some sort of card game, because she kept mouthing words like “red ace” and “black seven.”
The game couldn’t have been much of a challenge. Her eyes began to droop. Fall asleep! Come on! Her head slid forward until her chin rested on her chest. I rolled onto the balls of my feet, in a crouch, ready to spring across the room and knock that gun out of her lap. Crab Woman’s head jerked up again. Still holding the gun, she popped out of the chair, shaking her head and wiggling her arms. In one sharp movement she turned to the shelves of overflow technology. Her eyes scanned them and fixed on a box on a middle shelf. A wide smile spread across her face. She reached into the box and brought out a squat tube with a mouthpiece, just like an asthma inhaler except . . . Oh, no. Not that! She pressed a few buttons, adjusting the dosage, brought the tube to her mouth, and sucked in a deep breath. It was a caffeine inhaler. I sank back down the couple of inches to the floor. Figures the workhouse would keep a supply of caffeine inhalers on-site. I didn’t think any of the adults here ever slept.
Crab Woman stretched and smiled even more broadly. She’d never fall asleep now. We had about two minutes before the caffeine kicked in. Two minutes before she became so totally aware and alert that we’d never be able to pull anything over on her.
“Paige,” I whispered. “Go tell her you need to use the bathroom. Make it sound like an emergency.”
“She’s got a gun!” Paige’s wobbly voice
whispered back.
“No, look. She just set it down on the table. Start talking before you even get up. But get close to her. Just do it. You’ll be fine.”
Without questioning me further, Paige rose to her feet, using my shoulder to push herself up.
“Excuse me?” said Paige, barely loud enough for Crab Woman to hear. “I hate to bother you, but I really need a restroom.”
Coop spoke close to my ear. “What’s up, bro?”
“We’re the kings of the distraction technique. Remember?” I got my legs under me.
Crab Woman watched Paige closely as she inched toward the little table in the corner. “You can hold it,” her gravelly voice said.
“No, I can’t,” said Paige.
“What’s the plan?” asked Jeffery.
“There is no plan,” I whispered. “We’re just going to go.”
“Sit back down,” said Crab Woman to Paige. Without getting up Coop, Jeffery, and I slid toward the shelves.
“You don’t understand.” Paige stood within a few feet of Crab Woman now, crossing her legs and bouncing up and down. “I drank three big cups of orange juice for breakfast.”
Paige was a good actress. I found myself feeling bad for her.
Crab Woman’s lips crinkled. I could tell she was perplexed. She couldn’t let Paige out, but she also didn’t want a smelly mess locked up with us in this storage room for who knew how many more hours. Crab Woman’s attention was completely focused on Paige. That made us boys invisible. Staying as low to the floor as possible, Coop, Jeffery, and I darted around the first row of shelves. We crawled toward the other end of the room, where Paige stood with Crab Woman. At the end of the row, we slowly climbed to our feet. Coop carefully pulled a long green extension cord off a shelf, flashing me his goofy smile as he unwound it in his hands.
“Please! I’ll only be a minute.” Paige sounded desperate. “I’ll come right back. I promise. You can even come with me, if you want.”
“I can’t leave the others . . . hey!” Crab Woman had noticed. She’d probably looked to where we’d been sitting when she mentioned us. We jumped on the fleeting moment of surprise. Jeffery reached through the open shelf and pushed a clunky monitor off the other side. Crab Woman screeched as shattered glass skittered across the floor. Coop and I sprang out from around the end of the shelf in time to see Paige knock the gun across the table an instant before Crab Woman grabbed it. Paige let out little erps and squeals as she pushed the gun as far from Crab Woman as possible, first with her hand and then across the floor with her foot.
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