by Obert Skye
He heard someone running. There was also the sound of singing as one of the voices patrolled the halls outside his door.
“Go to sleep,” he said again.
Tobias stepped carefully across the dark room to his cot. He couldn’t see anything. He tried not to, but he just couldn’t stop himself from counting his steps.
“… seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”
Tobias wanted to ignore what he knew, but what he knew was that seven steps to the left there was a box under the floorboards filled with answers to questions he wasn’t brave enough to even ask at the moment. He knew he needed to understand, but his brain was treating him like a child.
“Just go to sleep,” he begged himself.
He walked straight back to the light switch and flipped it on. He sat down on the edge of the nearest cot and took off his right shoe. He stood once more. Bending over, he unscrewed one of the cot’s metal legs. It was about twelve inches long and plenty heavy.
“Don’t think about it,” he lectured his brain. “Just do it.”
Tobias lifted the metal leg up and dangled it directly above his naked right foot. He closed his eyes and opened his fingers. The leg hit his foot perfectly. The end of it smacked his toes and sent a jolt of pain shooting through his body like electricity.
Tobias covered his own mouth to muffle his scream. He shook off the pain and tried to catch his breath.
“Ouch!” he said under his breath. That hurt.
His voice now sounded different inside his head. The fog hadn’t completely rolled away, but there were patches of his brain that were connecting properly again.
Tobias bent down and picked up the metal leg. He held it, then dropped it quickly before he could chicken out. This time the metal bar smacked him high on the foot and hit a nerve. His body shook as the pain shot from his foot to his head. His blue eyes practically jumped out of their sockets, and it took much longer to catch his breath. There were still blank spots in his head, but the working pieces were fighting to fill them in.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Tobias could taste the clear thinking and he wanted more. He took off his left shoe and ran to the opposite end of the room. Using the momentum, he kicked his foot into the corner leg of another cot.
Please do not try this at home.
Tobias fell to the ground, softly howling and fighting back tears. He saw stars, and stars surrounded by stars, and stars surrounded by stars that were encircled by shooting stars. As he lay on the dusty floor whimpering, the dam broke inside his head and the hopes and fears he had been previously aware of all began to flood his brain.
He knew who he was.
He knew why he was there.
He knew his father had left them.
He knew they were prisoners.
Tobias moaned.
Sometimes knowing things just isn’t that great.
CHAPTER 5
CHICKEN-FRIED STEAK WITH A SIDE OF …
Ralph Eggers was a man with a mission. His goal was to find out who he was. Ever since he had been found wandering in the desert, his life had been one big unsolved mystery. He was currently living in the YMCA until he could find a job or discover who he had once been. Ralph had no idea that he had lost his wife a while back, or that he was the father of Tobias and Charlotte.
Mr. Eggers didn’t remember a lot, but he did have one thing going for him—his new friend, Sam. Sam was a taxi driver Ralph had met after he had been released from the hospital. Sam was short, with a wide belly and thinning dark hair that he pulled back into a ponytail. He had a nose that had been broken a few times, and eyes set close together. He sometimes looked like a Cyclops. He was friendly in the sense that he talked to everyone. He was also stubborn in the sense that he disagreed with almost everyone. Ralph had hired Sam to drive him out to the desert to meet with the rancher who had found him. The rancher, a man named Donald, had turned out to be no help. But Sam was sympathetic to Ralph’s cause and had agreed to help him discover who he used to be. Sam had even driven Ralph out to the strange reform school on top of the tall mesa. It was another dead end, but a sure sign of how willing Sam was to help Ralph see this through.
Now the two of them were sitting in a diner having dinner and wondering what their next move should be.
“Well, that rancher was no help,” Sam said as he waved the waitress over. “Nobody knows who you are. Maybe you were just dropped off in the desert by aliens. Do you know any strange alien languages?”
“I don’t think so,” Ralph said. “I’m not even great with English.”
The waitress stepped up to their table and smiled a half-sincere smile. She had on a brown dress that looked as stiff as cardboard. Over the dress, she was wearing a dark green apron with at least a dozen stains on it. Her eyes were blue, tiny, and rested directly above her nose. Her nose wasn’t crooked but it was slanted, running like a diagonal line from below her left eye to the right side of her thin upper lip.
“What can I get you two?”
“Just a glass of milk for me,” Ralph said.
The waitress looked disappointed, but she scribbled it down.
“Something fried for me,” Sam spoke. “Chicken-fried steak maybe? Is it any good here?”
“It’s probably our best dish,” she bragged.
“Then I’ll have that and a Coke.”
The waitress walked off and then Sam began to tease Ralph. “A milk? That’s really going to impress the girls. Men order things that are fried.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Okay, so the rancher turned out to be a dead end, and that frightening school gave us both bad dreams. Where should we go now to find out who you are?”
“I have no idea. The only lead we have is the fact that I was saying ‘Martha’ when I was picked up by the rancher. Who’s Martha? My wife?”
“Maybe it’s your dog? No offense, but that’s not much of a clue. You might not have even been saying Martha. Maybe you were just muttering some nonsense, like marfa.”
“The rancher said I was saying Martha, not marfa.”
“I’m just saying. I’ve driven a taxi for years now, and sometimes I hear things wrong. I thought one lady told me to deliver her to the grave. She actually just wanted me to take her to some restaurant called the Grove.”
“I think this is different.”
“Still,” Sam insisted. “Even if you were saying Martha, that’s not much to go on.”
The waitress and her slanted nose came back. She set Sam’s Coke down and handed him a straw. She turned to Ralph. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re out of milk. Is there something else I can get you?”
There was an entire list of things that Ralph would have liked: his memory, his past, his name, and his family—if he had one—just to list a few.
“I guess I’ll have water.”
The waitress smiled as if Ralph had just made a very important decision. She then stepped away to fetch the water.
“Can I tell you something?” Sam asked. He kept talking instead of waiting for an answer. “Maybe it’s an okay thing you can’t remember who you are. We’ve all got baggage we should probably forget. I know it ain’t easy, but I could help you get a cab to drive and you could run your own business here in town for a while. See if any memories come back. If nothing comes back to you, at least you got a new life and a little business.”
“You’ve already been too kind to me.”
Ralph was a tall man, but as he sat hunched over in the diner booth, he seemed small. His dark hair and brown eyes matched the coffee in the cups most of the patrons were sipping. Ralph rubbed his chin and exhaled.
“I’ll tell you when I’ve been too kind,” Sam insisted. “You should settle down and see what settles over you.”
“You’re probably right,” Ralph said. “I just feel like I should search a little more.”
Sam grumbled. “I’m up for adventure, but we haven’t got a place to look. Even if you
called every Martha in the phone book, I doubt that would help. Besides, it might be a Martha who lives in another country, or as I was saying before, maybe Martha’s a dog.”
“I don’t think I would be wandering the desert calling for a dog.”
“I think that’s very possible,” Sam said. “I know a lot of animals I’d rather look for than people.”
The waitress was back. She set a skinny glass of water near Ralph and put a wide platter of food in front of Sam.
“The plate’s very hot,” she announced. “Chicken-fried steak and a side of gravy.”
Ralph gazed at Sam’s food as the waitress walked off. Steam was rising from the meal like clear worms wriggling in the air. Sam picked up the white country gravy and poured it slowly over his chicken-fried steak. Ralph couldn’t take his eyes off the food.
“You want some?” Sam asked. “I’m not happy to share, but I’m willing.”
Ralph blinked twice.
“Seriously, I can cut you off a piece.”
“That’s okay,” Ralph said. “There’s just something about that gravy.”
“Really? Maybe it wasn’t Martha you were saying in the desert.” Sam put a huge piece of gravy-covered meat in his mouth. “Maybeitwahsgravee.”
“What?” Ralph asked.
Sam finished chewing and swallowed. “Maybe it was gravy you were calling for instead of Martha.”
“Gravy,” Ralph said, listening to the word as he said it. “Do you think it could mean something?”
“It means you’re hungry.” Sam cut off part of his fried steak and slid it onto one of the small extra plates on the table. “Here.”
Ralph pulled the plate over and picked up a set of utensils. He took a gravy-covered bite of meat and then stopped to think about it. Sam made no stops to think as he devoured his portion.
“For some reason, this gravy is making me think,” Ralph said.
“I’m pretty sure Einstein always had a big bowl of gravy before he did his best pondering,” Sam said. “It’s just gravy, my friend, or maybe that’s her last name. We should be looking for Martha Gravy.”
“No, but there’s a story about gravy that I think I remember,” Ralph said.
“Hansel and Gravy?” Sam guessed.
“Funny. No, there was something wrong with the gravy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with gravy,” Sam said, licking his lips. “Lumpy or smooth, it’s pretty much the perfect food.”
“Lumpy,” Ralph said. “Something about lumpy.”
“Maybe that’s your name?” Sam suggested. “We still haven’t figured out what it is. Maybe you’re Lumpy.”
Ralph laughed, but he wasn’t really listening any longer. He chewed slowly as he finished the rest of his food in silence and in thought.
CHAPTER 6
THINKING OUTSIDE THE FOG
I don’t want to shock you, but I believe people should think and act for themselves. I know, it’s a crazy idea, but I feel like the best way for someone to go through life is for them to make their own moves. Sure, it might be wise to let the doctor perform the surgery on you instead of you trying to do it yourself. And, yes, it’s probably a good idea to allow actual police officers to pull people over. That’s not your job. But most things in life can be decided upon and carried out by you. Walk to the beach and see the ocean, start a small business that makes clothing for squirrels, draw a watch on your wrist and pretend that it’s real. Go ahead. You’re in control.
It’s a good feeling to think for yourself.
Tobias, however, was not feeling good. His mind was clearing up, but the memories rushing in were difficult to view. He could remember being dropped off at Witherwood in the rain by his own father. He could remember escaping and being dragged back to Witherwood by Sherriff Pidge. He could remember being in the square room with his sister and seeing his father behind the mirror. He could remember his father looking at them like he had no idea who they were.
Tobias could remember a lot of sad things.
He also recalled a few things that were worth thinking about. He could remember some of the secret passages that were hidden behind the walls in Witherwood. He could remember his ability to draw things and pick locks.
He could remember Fiddle.
Fiddle was a direct descendant of Hyrum Withers, the founder of the school. Fiddle was a bit strange, but he was kind and had been the one to show them a way out of the school and off the mesa. Fiddle’s room was also just two doors down from where Tobias now lay.
He breathed in through his nose. With a clear head, his super smelling sense seemed stronger than ever. He could smell the dust in the room and the soap he had used to wash his hands earlier. He could also smell the trees outside.
After going through the papers beneath the loose floorboards a few times, Tobias took a moment to think. He had read every word and studied every drawing he had put there. Out of all the information, what stood out most was something that was written on the last piece of paper.
Find out what’s on the third floor.
He knew something sordid was underfoot. He knew there were things called Catchers that played a role in bringing children to Witherwood. He knew that there were experiments going on. The odd animals that roamed the top of the mesa were the result of some experiments. He knew a lot, but he also understood that what was most important was for him to …
Find out what’s on the third floor.
Tobias tried to use the homemade key he found in the box to open his bedroom door, but it didn’t work.
He vaguely remembered Ms. Gulp changing the locks to keep him and his sister in their place. With his mind operating better, he was much more concerned about Charlotte. She had been taken to the girls’ dorms, and he had no idea if she was okay.
“I’ve got to get out of this room,” he challenged himself.
Not certain about the time of day, Tobias tried to find some hint of light through the cracks between the boards on the window. But the orderlies had covered it so well there wasn’t even a sliver of light peeking through.
He tried the door again, searching for any weakness or way to break the hinges or lock. A thought occurred to him—he had never tried beating his way out. So he stepped across the room to retrieve the metal leg he had previously dropped on his foot. He picked it up and brought it over to the door. Lifting the leg, he prepared to swing at the knob.
“One, two…”
A second before he swung, there was a very soft knock and Tobias looked down to see a yellow piece of paper slip quietly under the door.
Stepping back a couple of feet, he stared at the piece of paper. He set the bar down on the closest cot and cautiously returned to the door. The yellow paper was sticking about six inches into the room. It had some words on it that were small and messy. Tobias bent down and picked it up. The note read,
You are needed in the kitchen, now. Ms. Gulp
Tobias couldn’t remember ever being instructed by note. Ms. Gulp liked to scream her orders, or forcefully knock them into him. Besides, the instructions were extra ridiculous because Tobias was locked in his room. There was no way out and it didn’t seem possible for someone—even someone as crazy as Ms. Gulp—to expect him to beat down the door. Fortunately, being trapped was a problem Tobias didn’t have to worry about for long.
The door clicked and slowly creeped open an inch.
Tobias stepped so far back his backside was almost touching the wooden window on the opposite side of the room. The door was open no more than an inch, and it was eerily silent. All he could see through the gap in the door was darkness. The halls were not lit up like usual. He looked at the note again. He smelled it to see if that would tell him anything. It didn’t. Tobias put his shoes back on and moved toward the door. He folded the note and slipped it into his back pocket. When he reached the door, he flipped off the lights in his room. With them off, the hall looked even darker, but there was a gray hue in the distance.
Tobias wante
d to ignore the note. He wanted to set off and find Fiddle and Charlotte and a way out. But he realized that in order to have an advantage, he needed to pretend he was still under the spell of Marvin’s voice. If it was discovered that he had a clear mind, he would be dragged to the square room and brainwashed again. And if that happened, he would be back in the same useless spot he was in before. Sure, he had found the clues to get out of the spell this time, but there was no guarantee he would figure it out again. And with each talking-to, his brain became dimmer and dimmer.
“Go to the kitchen,” he whispered to himself.
Weary Hall was as unsettling as usual. It was not like Ms. Gulp to ask him to come to the kitchen this way. Tobias knew it wasn’t right, but he had no other course of action to take. His feet stepped noiselessly on the carpet as he walked straight down the middle of the hall. He passed a set of stairs going up to the second floor. Memories of the brief time he and Charlotte had been up there filled his mind. He remembered the orderly walking past them as they hid. He also remembered the familiar song the orderly had been singing.
There is no up, and there’s no down.
The world may stop from spinning round.
Tomorrow there’ll be light, they say,
So rest up now, and we will see.
Tobias whispered the words to himself as he walked. The song was one that his mother had often sung to him and Charlotte before she died. Feelings of sadness washed over him, mixing with his anxiety and fear.
“How can this get any worse?” he whispered to himself.
You should never ask questions that you don’t want the answers to.
Tobias smelled something new behind him. As he spun around, a bag was thrown over his head, turning the dark to darker. He moved to struggle, but there were two people at his sides holding his arms tightly.
“What—?” he tried to ask.
“Sorry,” a voice interrupted.
Tobias felt a blow to his head and the darker turned to darkest.
CHAPTER 7
A GIRL NAMED SUE
Here’s why I don’t like waking up— Well, that list is too long. Here’s why I don’t like sleeping in: I’ve got nothing. Sleeping in is one of the great joys in life. Everything is better if it ends with a good night’s sleep. You traveled to the moon and back? I bet that’s great, but it’s even better if you get to sleep in the next morning. You just became president? Super. Even super-duper if you get to sleep in the next day. You found a cure for every imaginable illness ever? Hooray. Still, such a discovery is much better if you can sleep in on it.