by Obert Skye
“Wait for an adult to come help us.”
“Good idea.”
Sure, it was a good time to make an escape, but they were not in the right frame of mind.
Tobias folded his arms and sat back on his cot. He looked around the room and closed his eyes. As he opened them, something caught his attention. He stared at the wood floor behind Charlotte’s cot.
“What are you staring at?” Charlotte asked.
“Just some dust. There’s something odd about the dust over there.”
Tobias pointed to where there had been a cot before they had picked it up and charged the window last night. When they had put the cots back in place, they hadn’t lined them up exactly as they had been. Parts of the floor that once were covered by cots were now exposed, and the exposed part behind Charlotte’s current cot had some unusual dust patterns.
Tobias stood.
Normally, something as common as standing is overlooked or not talked about. Most of us stand at different points in our lives. If you have never walked before, standing is a miracle. If you have vertigo and no balance, standing is admirable. Tobias didn’t have vertigo, and he had spent his life walking. So standing usually didn’t seem that impressive. But at the moment, his thoughts were not his own, so standing and moving over to investigate the strange marking in the dirt on the floor was much more impressive than it sounds.
Tobias stared at the floor for two minutes. He could see the patterns and letters on the ground, but he couldn’t mentally digest them. Most of his brain was trying to convince him that he should ignore what he saw. But there was a bit of him—a spot, a dot, a speck—that was pleading with him to pay attention.
The speck and dot and spot combined to make a chunk of his brain that just couldn’t ignore what was written in the dust.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked.
“I think it’s a map.”
“Who drew it?”
“I think I might have.”
Charlotte got up from her cot and stood next to her brother. They both looked down at the floor. There, written in the dust was a rough map of the layout of Witherwood. Some of it had been brushed over during the cot derby, but most of it was still recognizable.
“It’s not that great,” Charlotte said. “Why’d you draw it?”
“I don’t know,” Tobias answered. “Can you see those words beneath it?”
Below the roughly drawn map, there were three words, Look for clues.
Charlotte yawned. “What clues?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
The door to their room swung open and there was Orrin. Tobias spun around and his feet accidentally brushed over part of the dusty map.
Orrin stood in the doorway and looked at them. He was a mess—the human equivalent of a twenty-car pileup. His clothes were ripped, and he had some sort of rough, pointed stick in his hands.
“Good, you’re here. Now stay put until you are instructed. Understand?”
“I saw Archie get lifted,” Tobias said.
“He’s fine,” Orrin lied. “Stay put.”
“The ground shook,” Charlotte spoke up.
Orrin slapped his large forehead. “Just stay put!”
He slammed the door and the lock tumbled, letting them know that they had no choice in the matter.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “I don’t remember a lot of things, but I remember I don’t like him.”
“That would be hard to forget.”
Both the Eggers kids looked down at the floor. Most of the map was still visible, but the words were gone.
“It said ‘look for clues,’” Tobias whispered.
Tobias walked to his cot, and after taking three shallow breaths, he leaned down and flipped over the cot. There, written on the bottom of it, were the words he had ignored earlier. With his brain now sparking a tiny bit, he was better able to process the information. A smile appeared on his lips. What was written was most definitely a clue.
CHAPTER 4
DIVIDED
You seem like a person of high intelligence. I mean look at you, you’ve got a book in your hands and you’re not holding it upside down. I bet people think well of you. You strike me as the sort of person who, when you’re not around, everyone talks good about. Impressive. You can probably piece together puzzles quickly, solve riddles with ease, and decipher codes like nobody’s business. You would be a great help to Tobias and Charlotte, what with your clear mind and amazing abilities. Sadly, you’re here and they are trapped behind the brick walls of Witherwood. So the only assistance you can offer them at the moment is your sympathy.
As it just so happens, they are desperate enough to accept it.
Charlotte stared at the clue. “What does that even mean?”
Tobias studied the bottom of the cot. He traced his finger along the words as he read them aloud. “Twenty-one in, seven over.”
“Twenty-one in what?” Charlotte asked. “We shouldn’t even be thinking about this stuff, Tobias. We should go to sleep, get up, and do as we’re told.”
“Maybe,” Tobias said.
“No maybe. Orrin could come in again.”
Tobias stood there trying to process information with a brain that had been wiped clean and programmed not to process anything.
“We should go to sleep,” Charlotte said with frustration. “I can’t think about anything. My brain hurts.”
“Okay,” Tobias said gently. “You sleep; I’m going to stare at this for a while. I must have written it down because it’s important.”
“No,” she forced herself to say. “I’m not going to sleep. If you’re staring at it, then I’m staring at it too.”
Charlotte stood next to her brother and willed her eyes to look closely at the words. (It was actually a nice moment. Brothers and sisters don’t always support each other, so it’s worth pointing out when some do.) The words on the bottom of the cot were written in black ink.
Twenty-one in, seven over.
“Twenty-one people?” Charlotte tried.
“I don’t think so. Do we even know twenty-one people here?”
“I feel like I don’t know twenty-one people anywhere.”
“Seven over could have something to do with hours or days. Maybe we’ve been in here twenty-one days and seven of them are over,” Tobias wondered.
“Well, what kind of clue is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should leave better clues,” Charlotte said.
“I don’t know why I left any clues at all. I thought we were happy here.”
“We’d be happier without clues and if we went to bed.”
Tobias flipped the cot right side up and sat down on it, and Charlotte rolled into hers. There was still some light screaming and mild chaos happening outside their room, but for the moment they felt safe. Charlotte shut her eyes, and Tobias did the same as he let the weight of a heavy sleep smother him. They were both moments away from snoring when the sound of a key entering the lock could be heard.
The doorknob rattled.
Tobias reluctantly opened his eyes.
Blocking the doorway like a dinged-up refrigerator box in a short skirt was Ms. Gulp. Right behind her stood her sidekick, Orrin. Together they were Box Woman and Bald Boy.
“I told you they were in here,” Orrin said.
“Good for you,” she barked at Orrin. “I’ll make sure you get a glue ribbon.”
Down the hallway, the sound of someone yelling could be heard.
“Let’s hurry,” Orrin suggested. “This is not a good day.”
Ms. Gulp looked at the Eggers children. “Up!”
Both of them began to sit up.
“Not you,” Orrin said, looking at Tobias. “We’re only here for the girl.”
A new kind of fear slowly began to drip down Tobias’s spine.
“Why?” he managed to ask.
“I have no time or need to answer your questions, but if you must know, there has been a sud
den opening in the girls’ dorms,” Ms. Gulp said. “Your sister will be moving. She’ll be Ms. Ratter’s problem now.”
Tobias knew he should be concerned, but he couldn’t get his mouth to say anything. The one constant about Witherwood was the fact that he and Charlotte had always been kept together. As horrible as the school and its mysteries were, they had each other.
“No,” Tobias finally whispered.
“Excuse me?” Ms. Gulp said, placing her fists on her square waist and puffing up her face. “You think you have some say in this situation? This is a temporary room you are in now. Not many students survive—I mean, stay here long. We are moving your sister to a place where she is less apt to get in trouble. Ms. Ratter runs a tight ship. You should be happy for your sister. Understand?”
Tobias nodded.
“Very happy,” Orrin added.
“I’m very happy,” Tobias said.
Ms. Gulp grabbed Charlotte by the arm. “Come on.”
“Okay,” Charlotte said, grabbing her pillow.
“Where did you get that?” Ms. Gulp asked, noticing for the first time that both the children had pillows on their cots. She knew the Eggers kids had barely earned blankets from her, and now they had pillows with ducks printed on them. “I didn’t give you those.”
“They were just here?” Tobias said, almost as confused as she was.
“If I wasn’t so generous, I’d rip them away from you.”
“Those look very familiar,” Orrin said to Ms. Gulp while examining the pillows. “Very familiar. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably not,” Ms. Gulp said. “Your thoughts are concerning.”
“Excuse me,” Orrin said. “I am an integral part of this staff. I have been known to think some real gemlike thoughts. You, on the other hand, work in the kitchen.”
“Well, you’re a short, bald thorn.”
“And you’re a horrible chef,” Orrin said bravely.
Ms. Gulp seethed. “Bite your tongue.”
“It would be better than your cooking.”
Tobias raised his hand to ask a question. Both Orrin and Ms. Gulp momentarily stopped arguing to stare at him.
“Do you think I could go with my sister?” Tobias asked without permission. “She’s younger, and I think we should stay together.”
“What a rude child,” Orrin said. “Interrupting two adults when we’re talking.”
“And no, you may not go with your sister,” Ms. Gulp said. “If a spot opens up in the boys’ dorm, and if you’re … well, if you’re still around, we’ll see about sticking you there.”
“Thank you.”
“Such a dullard,” Ms. Gulp said.
“I find most children to be a bit dim,” Orrin said. “And those children who have listened to Marvin’s voice are the dimmest.”
“So Charlotte’s not coming back?” Tobias asked.
Ms. Gulp jerked her head toward Tobias like she was going to attack. “Witherwood is experiencing some problems at the moment. We’ll take your sister to her new bed, where she’ll wait until things have calmed down. You will be locked in here. There will be no kitchen service or meals at this time. I suggest you do nothing but sleep, because we will work you all the harder tomorrow when things are straightened out.”
Tobias raised his hand. “What if there’s an emergency?”
Ms. Gulp rubbed her eyes. “This whole day is an emergency. Just bang on the door and maybe someone will come to your barbecue.”
Ms. Gulp pulled Charlotte from the room. Before Orrin exited, he turned to say one last thing.
“Stay put,” Orrin insisted. “And don’t think about things that shouldn’t be thought about.”
Orrin left, locking the door behind him.
Tobias sat for a few moments and then stood. Yes, he had been brainwashed, but there were more and more bits of his brain that were starting to question what was happening. It didn’t feel right to have his sister taken away, and that feeling jabbed his brain like a sharp, persistent needle.
Standing alone in the room, he glanced at the wooden window and the two rows of gray cots. His world was so small and confusing. He walked to the door and jiggled the handle to make sure it was locked. He switched off the yellow light and the room was as dark as tar.
Tobias hit the switch again.
Light snapped on like the flash of a bright idea.
“Twenty-one in, seven over,” he said, whispering the clue aloud.
There weren’t twenty-one cots, but there were definitely more than seven. The clue didn’t seem to be connected to the cots. He looked at the walls and the ceiling and the floor. Nothing seemed to fit the clue. Tobias walked to the window. He tugged at the green curtains on the right side and ran his hands over the wood the orderlies had used to cover it up. Tobias couldn’t decide if he should even care about clues. He didn’t have to think for himself or worry, because those were things that Marvin Withers’s voice had washed away. Figuring out clues often led to painful answers.
“I’m going to bed.”
The oldest Eggers child was happy with his decision. It was much easier to not think about things. His bladder, however, wasn’t quite as ready to settle down. He walked to the door and knocked on it for a full five minutes before a grumpy orderly opened it and let him use the bathroom. When he returned to his room, the orderly locked him back in. Tobias walked across the room toward his cot. As he walked, he realized that he was counting his steps.
“… eight, nine…”
Tobias stopped. He looked down at his feet. A bit of déjà vu came over him as he had the impression that he’d counted his footsteps before. He kept walking.
“… ten, eleven, twelve.”
He was in the middle of the room now. He kept going, counting each step up until the magic number.
“… twenty-one.”
Tobias was at the other end of the long room, twenty-one steps from the door and six inches from the wooden window. He couldn’t take another step forward if he wanted to so he turned to his right and took seven. He ended up a few inches away from the wall and almost directly in the southwest corner of the room. He studied the textured red wallpaper on the top half of the wall, and the gray wainscoting on the bottom.
He looked at the floor.
There was nothing special about this spot. Tobias turned and walked seven steps back to the wooden window. He then took seven steps to the left.
Tobias was in the northwest corner of the room. He studied the floor and the wall, but like the other corner, nothing looked out of place.
“Go to bed,” he told himself.
Tobias turned, and as he did, a board beneath his left foot made a low groaning noise. He stopped and held his breath. He shuffled his left foot again and the board shifted slightly beneath him. Tobias looked over at his cot. There was something inside his syrupy brain telling him to forget all this and just go to sleep—forget the clue, forget the creaking board, forget everything.
Tobias remembered that he did not like being told what to do.
He dropped to his knees and carefully felt around the floor. His fingers found a thin ridge and he slid his nails into the crack and lifted up. A small section of board popped loose. He pulled it up and pushed it aside.
“Aaappp” is the sound of someone with a brainwashed brain, gasping.
Under the board there was a shallow rectangular box. Inside the box there were some loose papers, and beneath the papers there was a metal key that appeared homemade and a set of pliers. The papers were all scribbled on. One large piece folded out, and there was a much more detailed map of Witherwood drawn on it. In other notes, he could see words like Marvin, and Catchers, and Gothiks. He had no idea what they meant. To Tobias it felt as if he had always existed in a state of blissful confusion. There was nothing before Witherwood and nothing in the future. This was how things were. Now here were papers written in what looked like his own handwriting, telling him that there were things he needed
to know. There was a separate letter folded and resting at the side of the box. He pulled it out and unfolded it.
Dear Me,
At least I hope it’s me who finds this. Actually, I hope I never need to find this. But if I have, it’s probably because I figured out one of my own clues. There’s something going on here. We were not meant to be at this place. No one is. I have not discovered everything, but I have written down the rooms and things I have seen. There is a second floor. I drew all the details I could remember about that. Study them. There is also a third floor. I don’t know what’s up there, but I think it’s important. Stay away from Marvin Withers. He is in the square room in the middle of the courtyard. He is ugly, and his voice can erase the thoughts and personality of anyone he talks to. You have been talked to before. I found a way to clear my mind. It’s painful, but it seems to work. Take a heavy object and slam it against your foot or hand. It needs to be a real hit. Just falling or getting slapped won’t do. You have to trust me. Do it now! Reading all the words and thoughts in this box will make much more sense if you have a clear mind.
Do it, Tobias! Please.
Sincerely,
You
Tobias didn’t know what to make of the words he had just read. It was a note to himself, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe it. He folded the piece of paper and stuck all the items back in the shallow box beneath the floor. He then returned the floorboard to its rightful spot and covered it. Tobias’s breathing was labored and loud. He didn’t want to know any more. He didn’t want to have to worry about things. He almost wanted to yell for Orrin and show him the box so he would take it away. At the very least, Tobias wanted to sleep so he could forget all about what he had just read. All Tobias had to do was rest his head and forget.
“Forget,” he whispered dreamily.
He shuffled over to his cot and lay down. He let his head rest on the soft pillow. He folded his arms across his chest.
“Go to sleep,” he told himself. “Don’t think about things that shouldn’t be thought about.”
Tobias had forgotten to turn the lights off.
He got back up, walked to the switch, and flipped it.
Blackness ensued.