A Web of Lies

by Bella Forrest

  We moved along a corridor, passing groups of other young hunters along the way—porcelain white cups in their hands, tablets or laptops beneath their arms—and then stopped outside a set of elevators.

  Here, Dev and the other three guys parted ways—saying that they were going to chill in the pool room—leaving me alone with Marnie.

  The elevator dinged open. We moved in, and I waited for Marnie to press a button. She selected Level Six. There appeared to be eight floors in total in this building.

  As the doors slid closed, Marnie looked at me quizzically. “Aren’t you going to press the floor for your walkway?”

  Press the floor for my walkway.

  My brain went totally blank. I lumbered forward, moving a thumb clumsily against the buttons. Having no idea which to press, I ended up hitting Level Four.

  “Huh?” Marnie wrinkled her nose. “Did you move rooms recently?”

  I racked my brain how to answer, desperately wishing that she would mind her own business.

  Then the universe granted me a small mercy. She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. “You’re back on with Fern, aren’t you?”

  I threw her what I hoped would come off as a guilty grin. She could believe whatever the heck she wanted to believe as long as she left me alone. “Maybe, maybe not,” I replied, assuming a deadpan expression… I had to pray that she would not bump into the real Jude before I left this place.

  We reached Level Four. I was relieved to step out, although I didn’t know what nasty surprises might lie in wait for me up here.

  “I’ll see you around,” Marnie said, waving to me as the elevator doors slid shut.

  Yeah… hopefully not.

  I hoped against hope that uncovering information about “FOEBA” would not be difficult. That it was common knowledge among the hunters.

  I supposed that I could have asked Jude’s friends, but I wanted to say as little to them as possible, in case they saw Jude again this evening.

  I looked up and down the wide hallway I found myself in. It was fairly busy, though less so than the ground floor. I cast my eyes down to the floor and moved to the wall’s edge, where I walked as inconspicuously as possible. It really would be good to have my father’s ability to thin myself about now.

  Then I caught sight of something beautiful. A bathroom sign. I sped up, and thankfully, there was no line outside the men’s door. I pushed it open and stepped inside, emerging in a surprisingly large wall lined with stalls and urinals. I took a left turn, past the couple of guys doing their business by the urinals, and walked right to the end of the aisle before locking myself in one of the cubicles.

  I let out a breath—a long, slow breath. Good. At least I had found a base. Somewhere I could retreat to and keep out of the way. I instinctively glanced up at the ceiling, scanning it for cameras. Would they really install cameras in the bathroom? I certainly wouldn’t put it past the IBSI, but I couldn’t spot any from where I stood.

  I climbed on top of the toilet seat, so that my feet wouldn’t show on the floor, and sat Jude’s butt on the tank.

  Now, I needed to think. Carefully.

  The best thing would be if I could solve this mystery without actually needing to talk to anybody. I had to keep myself hidden as much as I could, and I honestly couldn’t think of a casual way I could ever slip such a specific question about FOEBA to anyone.

  If it was common terminology, however, surely it would be mentioned in writing somewhere. Wouldn’t they have textbooks or manuals for new recruits? Wouldn’t they have a library of resources?

  A library. That was what I needed.

  How do I find one?

  A nerd like Jude couldn’t possibly go round asking for directions to the library without people thinking that he was high on something. But just as there had to be some kind of library here, there had to also be some kind of map. A plan of the premises.

  As excruciating as the wait would be, I decided that my best and safest option would be to camp out in this bathroom for the next few hours, until more people had retired to bed and the corridors had emptied.

  Grace

  I wasn’t wearing a watch, but there was a clock directly outside the men’s bathroom. I kept creeping out when I sensed nobody was around to keep track of the hours passing.

  Once nine o’clock had struck, the corridors were already significantly less busy. I could have waited longer for them to become even emptier, but I didn’t think that I could afford it. It was already killing me to think of the hours I’d wasted so far. Zipping up my hoodie, I left the bathrooms and made a beeline for the elevators. When the doors to one of them slid open, I half expected somebody to be standing behind them, but thankfully, the elevator car was empty. I pushed the button for the ground floor. I cast my eyes fleetingly around the four corners of the ceiling and spotted a camera. I looked down, keeping my eyes on the floor until I reached the ground level.

  Stepping out into the large entrance area, I was able to get a better look at it this time, when I wasn’t distracted by Jude’s friends. There was a reception desk on one end of the room, but currently, nobody was sitting behind it. Perfect. I moved up to it cautiously, and as I reached the counter, I spotted just what I had been looking for. A pile of maps. Plans of the compound, with the various names of buildings clearly marked out, along with a useful key chart. I guessed this was management being considerate of their new recruits. I could see how a person could easily get lost. This place was more sprawling than I’d thought it was. Over twenty buildings, I counted in total. This building—the closest to the compound’s main entrance—as well as the next five along from it were marked as residential areas. And then further toward the back of the premises appeared to be the buildings where the IBSI’s main business went on.

  Library. Library. Where is the library?

  I couldn’t spot any building marked library. However, there was one titled “Archives”. That was the closest thing I could spot to what I needed. It was situated centrally, about seven buildings away. I couldn’t even begin to guess how long it would take me to get there. I had no idea what obstacles I might face along the way. I just hoped that, since the Archives was marked on a map specifically meant for new recruits, I wouldn’t need some special permission to get inside. If there was a locked door protecting it, hopefully I would be able to open it with Jude’s thumbprint.

  The sound of clacking heels emanated from the door behind the reception desk. Folding up the map and stuffing it into the pocket of my hoodie, I moved away and turned my back on the desk.

  After putting some space between myself and the reception area, I took out the map again, and examined it for several more moments. I traced out what would be the best route, and then took a right turn toward the exit of the building. But as I tried to open the doors, they were stuck fast.

  “Hey.” A female voice spoke behind me. “What are you doing?”

  My pulse racing, I turned reluctantly to find myself facing a short, plump woman with straight black hair swept up into a tight bun. A receptionist. She was peering at me curiously through brown, horn-rimmed glasses.

  “I just wanted to get some fresh air,” I replied.

  “It’s after hours,” she replied. “Surely you know that.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I guess I was just trying my luck…”

  “You of all people should not be trying your luck,” she retorted disapprovingly.

  Great. She knows about Jude.

  I shuffled away from the door and headed right back to the elevators. Thankfully one was still down on this level, and I didn’t have to wait beneath her glare before stepping inside. I exhaled as the doors slid shut.

  Okay, it seems to be some kind of policy they’ve instituted to not allow people to roam about outside at night. I guessed that was thanks to what Arwen and I had done to Jude.

  This meant a couple of things for me. First, I wouldn’t be able to return to Arwen tonight, even if I did manage to
discover information about FOEBA in the next several hours. I would have to wait until the morning and hope they’d open up early. I needed to sneak out as soon as I possibly could.

  Second, this meant I had to figure out another way to the “Archives”. I’d wanted to go the outside route, because I’d figured that it would be easier to avoid people. Now, it looked like I would have no choice but to travel along the corridors and walkways linking one building to the other.

  I returned to the fourth floor, and this time when the doors opened, I headed in the opposite direction from the toilets. The hallway twisted and turned several times, leading me around the building. Eventually, I reached the outer glass wall, where the entrance to a walkway came into view. I was feeling grateful that I had not bumped into anybody yet on this floor, and the walkway remained clear as I began hurrying along—not too fast to arouse suspicion, but not too slow either. I tried to keep the pace of a man in awkward need of the bathroom.

  On reaching the end, I stepped into the second building. I spied a group of people walking up ahead of me, heading the same way I needed to go. I waited until they turned a corner before continuing on my way.

  The rest of the journey passed in a blur of angst and nerves. I had to stop several times, dodge down a small corridor or turn into the doorway of an elevator to avoid bumping into anyone, but, finally, I made it to the building that contained the Archives. As I neared the area that was supposed to hold the entrance, I realized how much I had been sweating. It felt like I—Jude—could do with a hot shower after this.

  Assuming there is an after this…

  I reached a pair of white metallic doors, clamped shut. Above them hung a sign, assuring me that I had found the right place. Archives, it said, in round, modern font.

  My eyes fell to the scanner on the right-hand side. Now for the moment of truth… I pressed Jude’s thumb against the glass and waited. Relief washed over me as I heard a soft click. The doors drew noiselessly open. I lost no time in stepping through the doorway and appeared in… a vast room that fit the exact description of a library. Quite an old-fashioned library, filled to the max with aisle upon aisle of tall wooden bookcases. The room even had that slight musty smell of books. There was also a designated area in the center with about twenty computers lined up in a row. Most importantly, it appeared to be empty.

  As the doors closed silently behind me, I was faced with the prospect of… Where to start? I’d been so preoccupied with getting here, but now that I stood in this room, the task before me felt even more daunting.

  On noticing that the aisles were listed alphabetically, I headed straight to the “F” section.

  FOEBA. FOEBA. FOEBA.

  I scanned shelves, hoping to find a whole section of books beginning with that title. But I couldn’t find even one.

  I breathed out and returned my gaze to the computers. They seemed to be the next logical step. I sat down at one of the least exposed computers and nudged the mouse, which cleared the light gray screensaver. It gave way to a square message in the center of the screen. “Verification,” it read, and beneath it was a red square. I assumed that meant it required another thumbprint to gain access.

  Jude’s thumb did the trick again. The message cleared. Now I had access to a desktop. I fished around until I found the most interesting thing I had seen so far.

  An application titled, “Archive Search.”

  Oh, my. Opening up the application, I realized that it was an entire scanned database of books. I even wondered if all the physical books in this room had been input there. The screen informed me that there were over nine thousand books and documents in total. My fingers were trembling slightly as I moved to type “FOEBA”. Swallowing hard, I hit enter and waited as an hourglass turned over on the screen.

  Maybe there are lots of documents to sift through with this name… Lots of information for me to read, I thought hopefully. After about a minute, the hourglass disappeared and was replaced by a depressingly short message: “No results.”

  Oh, no. What now?

  I was still surrounded by countless books, but it seemed like an utterly hopeless endeavor to even start searching through them.

  My despair was interrupted by an unwelcome noise. The soft click of the entrance doors.

  Cursing beneath my breath, I quickly dropped to the floor. Footsteps sounded on the floorboards. It sounded like a single person. Not wearing heels; either a man or woman wearing flat shoes.

  I crawled around the computer table to try to get a better look at whoever had entered. A wiry man of medium height, with a full head of graying hair. He wore dark pants and a maroon sweater, and was carrying a white cup and saucer in his hands. He approached the “S” aisle and disappeared from view.

  I dared draw in a quiet breath. I had to get out of here and find another bathroom to hide in while I considered what to do next.

  The man’s footsteps died away for several moments, as I guessed he stopped by a bookcase. Then they started again. It sounded like he was moving toward the back of the room. Ducking down low, I crawled down the line of computers, my eyes on the exit. Once I reached the last computer station, I had no more cover. I would have to run the rest of the way. Straightening to Jude’s full height slowly, I began to speed-walk toward the door, but as I reached it, I was frozen by the man’s voice behind me.

  “Who’s that?”

  I turned around with trepidation. The man had spotted me from the end of one of the “T” aisles and was now moving toward me, a book tucked beneath his right arm.

  “Jude?” the man asked, narrowing his eyes. It really did seem like everybody in this place knew Jude. Just my luck.

  “Yes,” I said, seeing no choice but to respond.

  The man had a broad chin and a long, Roman nose, set between perceptive, light brown eyes. Surprise played across his expression as he reached me.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked.

  “I was planning to turn in early,” I replied, praying that he had not seen the real Jude this evening, “but I couldn’t sleep.”

  This man wasn’t wearing any badge, so I had no way of knowing who he was exactly, or even his name.

  “I see… What were you reading in here?”

  I hesitated, wondering what could possibly happen if I just told him the truth: that I was searching for information about FOEBA. I was sure that Jude would have noticed the name of the folder containing the encrypted files. He would’ve seen that its title was FOEBA. In which case, would there really be any harm in my mentioning it? Seeing that the hours were slipping through my fingers and I was desperate, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just ask him outright. “I’ve been researching, actually,” I replied. “I’ve been wondering what FOEBA is.”

  The man’s response instantly revealed to me that the term was not unfamiliar to him. He didn’t frown or look confused. Rather, he looked back at me, stoic, his eyes serious.

  Then he cleared his throat, and set down his cup on a nearby table. He looked me in the eye and said, “Jude, that is a topic it’s best you don’t pry into.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It’s classified information, and it’s of no relevance to your work here.”

  “How do you know about it if it’s classified information?”

  The man looked unimpressed. “As a department head, I ought to know.” I wondered which department.

  “But it was obviously of interest to those girls who took me,” I dared go on. “Can you really blame me for being curious as to why they were so keen for me to crack open those files?”

  “No,” he replied. “I can’t blame you, but…” He planted a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “I’m telling you for your own good. Don’t pry.”

  It was clear that I had hit a brick wall with him and I didn’t feel comfortable trying to push him any further. He seemed to have deemed that this conversation was over, too.

  Leaving his teacup on the table, he repositioned
the book beneath his arm and made a move toward the exit. Then, to my surprise, he stopped and addressed me once more. “I do, however, have a document that I believe might be of interest to you. Wait here and I’ll bring it… Give me five or ten minutes.”

  “Uh, OK,” I barely managed to say before he strode to the doors and exited the Archives.

  My brain started cooking up all kinds of speculations as to what the document could possibly be and why he’d want to show it to me. But in spite of being preoccupied, this time when the doors clicked shut, I couldn’t help but notice something different. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but the clicking of the doors seemed louder as they drew together… More final. I hurried to the door myself, but as I tried to open them—both via the scanner and manually—they wouldn’t budge a fraction.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  He’s locked me in.

  Grace

  I continued trying in vain to get out. It was hopeless. Neither Jude’s fingerprints nor brute force would move the doors.

  I began racing around the Archives, looking for some other exit, some kind of back door. I found one near the back aisle that perhaps led into some kind of office. But that too had been locked. It was like the man had triggered some kind of central locking system in the entire place.

  I wished that I could comfort myself with the possibility that he could have somehow locked me in by mistake, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. And, to my horror, my gut instinct turned out to be right.

  When the man returned about ten minutes later and the doors slid open, he wasn’t carrying any book or document. In fact his hands were empty, except for a silver pistol. And by his side were four men. Three of them were tall and muscular—fighters or guards—and carried much heavier-duty guns, and then the fourth man was… Jude.

  The real Jude’s jaw dropped open, and as the group stepped inside the room, I imagined that my own expression was mirroring his.