by Jen Guberman
“You lied to me about dinner, broke into my room, stole my stuff, and ran off!” I said, half angry, half laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation as Zane helped me down the long hallway.
Zane rubbed at the back of his neck with his other hand.
“You’re not going to try to lie to me again, at least it seems,” I said more seriously, looking forward again.
“Eos, I’m sorry. I read the papers over your shoulder when we found them, and I had heard rumors of the Skeleton Key when I was little. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” His voice sounded genuine.
“You’re ‘sorry?’”
“I didn’t realize they meant that much to you. I didn’t think you’d actually go looking for the Key!”
“Well I did! That’s beside the point! You went through my stuff again and you stole from me!”
“I’m sorry! What else do you want me to say? That I owe you for busting me out of here? Because I do. I know! But making me feel like crap for a mistake isn’t going to help anyone.”
“It certainly makes me feel better.”
“Does it really?”
“No,” I said, defeated.
“E, I’m sorry. I mean it. I normally wouldn’t have gone through your stuff again but I saw what those papers were and I had to see for myself. I didn’t know you were going to use them to actually look for the Key.”
“It’s fine,” I said plainly, dismissing the matter.
By the time we made it out, I had regained my balance and Zane no longer had to support me. We made our way out of Nortown, running along the edges of buildings to stay out of the light from the street lamps. When we neared the gate, we listened for the guards, peering through the gate for them. When the coast was clear, Zane scrambled over the gate with me lagging behind, shrouded still by the darkness.
We kept running until we reached a new patch of destroyed land from the war, without looking back. In the ruins, we looked around, inspecting the buildings for a place to stay, and we took shelter in one of the only buildings in the area that was still standing. It was a small brick home, with a crumbling ceiling that revealed patches of the starry night sky. There were a few pieces of furniture, such as an old maroon velvet couch, that were still intact, albeit with singed holes and soot stains.
“I guess this will do,” I said as we walked into the house, looking up at the holes in the ceiling. I set my bag on the couch hesitantly, glancing at Zane.
“I’m not going to steal anything,” Zane reassured me. “I promise.”
I doubted him as I set my bag on the couch, taking out the blanket. I looked to Zane, hands in his pockets as he stood looking up through one of the larger holes in the ceiling at the stars. A cold breeze came gusting in through the shattered windows, chilling the room. I watched as Zane drew his arms in closer to his sides, keeping his hands in his pockets. I opened my bag and withdrew the loaf of bread. Taking out two slices, I walked up to Zane.
“Here,” I said softly, holding out a slice. “Eat.”
He looked at me, tentative at first. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I have enough.” He took the bread from me, one of his ice-cold hands brushing against mine as he reached for it. Within seconds the slice was gone.
“Thank you, Eos.”
I nodded, moving back toward the couch. I put my bag on the ground and laid on the burnt velvet couch, spreading the blanket over myself. For a while, I just laid there, looking across the room with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Zane tiptoed over, a few feet from the couch, and lay on the ashy floor. After a few moments, I spoke up.
“Goodnight, Zane.”
“Goodnight, E,” he said, rolling over with his back to me.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek for a moment, feeling sorry for Zane. I stood up, gathering my blanket in my arms, and I sat behind Zane, throwing the blanket over both of our feet. He turned, startled.
“What are you doing?” he asked in disbelief.
“It’s cold in here, and I can’t let you freeze to death—” I started.
“I’ll manage,” he interrupted.
“Let me finish,” I said with a grin. “I can’t let you freeze to death because if you die, I have to take the Avid key from your dead body. That’s gross.”
He laughed as he rolled over to face me, propping his head up on his hand.
“How about this,” I proposed. “We can get the keys together, and share the Skeleton Key? I mean, I doubt either of us will really need it every day. The papers said it will unlock anything, but how often do either of us really need to unlock things?”
“Really?” he asked, a sparkle in his coffee eyes, the corner of his mouth turned up in a playful smile. “You really trust me after I stole the papers?”
“I mean, I saved you from Nortown, after all,” I giggled. “You owe me! You wouldn’t turn your back on me!”
Zane laughed. “Alright. Deal.”
I lay on my back, looking up at the stars through the holes in the ceiling, and Zane mirrored my movements.
“Zane?”
“Yeah?”
“Why were you exiled?” I asked innocently.
“I was stealing a lot and got sloppy with it,” he admitted.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” I probed. “What did you steal?”
“When I got caught? Jewelry. But I had been a thief for a while before I was arrested. I turned into a criminal a long time ago—I had to. It’s okay though, I got used to that life. My family and I lived in Eastmeade, and when I was a boy, my older brother got really sick. My parents worked hard to pay for his medicine, but there was only so much they could afford. Eventually they couldn’t afford to keep food on the table, to buy us new clothes when we wore through our old ones—so I stole. I took food—just the basics—bread, milk, eggs, vegetables... Never more than we needed. But over time, I grew to like the rush I got when I took things, and I grew up stealing. Eventually, I did it for fun, pilfering jewelry for my mother, books for my brother… I acted like they were gifts I had worked for, but really they were just the products of my habit,” he spoke, dreamily gazing at the stars as he reflected. “When I got caught, I was stealing jewelry from a small shop about a block away from my house. I was reaching for a necklace just as the lights turned on, but I managed to hide a bracelet in my bag.”
“Oh,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
“Are you going to tell me your story?” he asked, his eyes turning to me.
After I told him how I ended up at Avid, I rolled onto my side with my back to him, trying to get some sleep. Arms behind his head like a pillow, Zane closed his eyes, falling asleep on his back. With the warmth of the sun gone, the cold night wind continued to gush through the broken windows, making the dark house even more frigid. I began to shiver involuntarily, and my teeth chattered, the clicking sounds piercing the silence. Suddenly, I felt Zane’s arm slide across my waist, pulling me close.
“For warmth,” he said with an airy chuckle.
I smiled to myself as my shivering began to fade. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dawn brought beams of warm sunlight through the gaps in the ceiling. I woke up, squinting in the light as I stretched on the floor. As I rolled onto my back, I realized Zane was gone. Instinctively, I looked for my bag, spotting it immediately, still where I left it. I jumped up, frantically digging through my bag, keeping a mental checklist of my belongings, finding the Skeleton Key papers.
“You okay?” I heard Zane ask, standing in the doorway, squinting at me. “I found something you might like!” He smiled, holding out a small bundle, wrapped loosely in burnt fabric shreds.
I unraveled the blackened cloth, revealing a sharp silver dagger in a worn leather sheath, the hilt simple, with the carving of a serpent coiled around it. The eyes of the serpent were studded with tiny emeralds.
“Oh my gosh, Zane,” I gasped. “Where did you find th
is?”
“I was wandering through the ruins a bit—I woke up early—and I found a couple of skeletons with some supplies on them. I found this one, and one for me. I hope we don’t have to use them, but just in case.” He pulled out his dagger to show me. It, too, was slipped into a leather case, but the hilt of his was coated in a golden material, with a sapphire-eyed eagle carved into it, wings spread across the length of the handle.
“Thank you, these are incredible,” I said in awe, turning my dagger over in my hands. It was light and fit nicely inside one of my hidden jacket pockets.
After a light breakfast, Zane and I cleared out of the house and made our way toward Delaisse. With how soon I had made it to Nortown from my path to Delaisse, I recalculated the length of our trip—if we could resist stopping for breaks, we could make it in only a matter of hours. Along the way, Zane and I joked about our friends back at Avid, pondering what they could be saying about our absences. We came up with a variety of games to play while walking, and we asked each other about our lives before being exiled. When we had finally reached the gates to Delaisse, it felt like we had known each other for years.
“Umm,” I hesitated, looking at the vast exile town before us. “Any ideas on how we’re supposed to find the Delaisse key?”
“Not a one,” he said, looking up at the massive industrial buildings. These buildings were drastically wider than the ones in Avid, and more numerous. Unlike Avid, these buildings were constructed with burgundy bricks, rather than plain grey concrete. I remember learning that Delaisse used to be one of the largest manufacturing sites during the war, and for the most part, the town remained intact, but the factories were no longer functioning.
In front of us was a simple chain link fence that stretched to about three times my height. Beyond that were the immense, seemingly abandoned factories. The only reason we knew we had reached Delaisse was a small, crooked wooden sign near the gate with the word “Delaisse” painted in neat black paint. The ground here seemed to change, transitioning from the soft sand into hard dirt and areas of asphalt.
“Is this the only security they have?” Zane asked skeptically.
“I guess so,” I answered, poking the fence tentatively, half expecting to be shocked.
“Huh,” Zane muttered.
“Give me a boost,” I asked Zane, situating my bag so it would sit on my back as I grabbed at the fence.
“E, I think we really should come up with a plan first,” he said, eyeballing me as I tried to pull myself higher on the fence with no luck.
“Our biggest obstacle right now is getting over this fence,” I argued.
“Well, we’ve never been here before. We don’t know the layout—so we can’t plan based on that. We don’t know where the box is hidden, so it isn’t like we can go straight for it. We don’t know anyone here, so we can’t get help,” he rationalized.
I sighed. “Fine.”
“Do you see that bridge?” He pointed through one of the gaps in the fence.
“No.”
“Look a little more to your right,” he said, touching my waist gently to turn me, sending a shiver down my spine.
“What about it?” I asked.
“If you look close enough, it looks like there’s an intersecting road that goes under it. I bet if we got over the fence, we could make it there quickly and hide under there until we figure out our next move. It’ll give us a quick glimpse inside the town, without us straight up running around aimlessly.”
“Fair enough. Where is everyone though?” I asked. “We’ve been standing here a little while now and I haven’t seen a single person.”
“I don’t know, and frankly I don’t want to find out,” he said, bending down a bit and stretching out his hands to help me up.
I stuck my right foot in his hands as he pushed, helping me a couple extra feet off the ground. The fence clanged and rattled as we worked our way over it. Zane seemed to scramble over the fence significantly faster than me, flipping his legs over the top before I was even halfway across.
“How are you doing that so fast?” I asked in disbelief, clinging tight to the thin metal, feeling like I was swaying more the higher I climbed.
“I guess I’m just better at climbing than you.” He chuckled as he began to climb down on the inside of the fence.
I looked up at the top of the fence, groaning as I stretched my arm up to pull myself further. I gasped. Zane had climbed right in front of me on the other side of the fence, surprising me in my focus. His white teeth grinned mischievously at me through the chain link fence.
“What?” I hissed a bit impatiently, keeping my voice down so we wouldn’t attract attention, should there be anyone nearby.
“Are you ticklish?” His deep eyes narrowed on mine, his smile never fading.
“No! No, no!” I squeaked quietly at him, panicked. “You’ll make me fall! Don’t!”
He poked a few of his fingers through the fence in a wiggling motion near my side, and I hurriedly pulled myself higher, sending my feet kicking into the fence as I nearly ran to the top, with Zane scuttling to follow me from his side of the fence. Once at the top, I worked my way down the other side, Zane moving sideways, occasionally wiggling his fingers teasingly at me when he got close. I went to put my foot on the next section of fence below me, but was surprised when it met compacted sand.
“Oh,” I said, releasing myself from the fence.
“You climb faster than you think—” he started.
“Because you were going to make me fall!”
“Eos, I would never let you fall,” he said, his smile fading.
“I wouldn’t put it past you—you can be a real jerk sometimes! You were going to tickle me and let me fall!” I argued.
“No, I wasn’t. But you thought I was going to, which was the point.”
“So, you did it to make me go faster?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
“All hail Eos, Climber of Fences,” he said as if announcing my entrance, bowing dramatically before me as I rolled my eyes with a grin.
“Dork,” I said, shaking my head.
“Nerd,” he poked me and smiled.
We began to head through Delaisse, jogging the narrow road, but keeping close to the buildings while we tried to get a feel for the town and where the Delaisse Box might be hidden. The further into the town we went, the more colorful it got, and I mean that in the most literal way. The walls of the decrepit factories and other industrial buildings were covered in bright graffiti. One minute I’d be looking at a complex painting of what looked like a man’s face, melting into a puddle of water with fish, the next, I’d be looking at bursts of painted birds taking flight along the brick. The street began to slope down a bit, leading us underground, beneath the asphalt bridge Zane pointed out from the fence. Under the bridge, hidden to my left, I noticed a wide concrete sewage pipe, tall enough to walk through without crouching.
“Maybe it’s in there?” I said, motioning to the pipe. “I mean, I don’t want to go in there, but it looks like a good hiding place. It’s our best bet right now. Plus—no one will see us down here.”
Zane nodded, leading the way. The ground was covered in a thin layer of muddy water that made wet squelching sounds as we made our way into the tunnel. A few steps into the pipe, Zane stopped dead in his tracks, causing me to bump abruptly into him.
I waited behind him, looking at him confusedly. Gazing toward the opening of an intersecting pipe, without saying a word, he pointed to a piece of graffiti. I squinted in the dim light, making out a beautiful painting of a very human-looking marionette puppet, its eyes glassy and sunken in. The work looked as if a hand was stretching out from the wall, holding strings to force the puppet into a limp salute. Above the hand, the words, “Who holds your strings?” were painted in blockish white text.
I stood there behind Zane for a moment, looking over the graffiti, realizing the entire tube was full of stunning works of art.
; “It’s kind of beautiful, in a way,” he said, dazed.
“Yeah,” I said softly, still looking around.
Suddenly, the sound of slow, splashing footsteps echoed from the intersecting tube, interrupting our trances.
“Get down,” Zane hissed under his breath to me, pushing me down as he squatted into a wide stance in front of me.
“How goes it, my friends?” said a nasally male voice. “It’s too nice out today to be hanging around in the pipes, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I could say the same to you,” replied Zane defensively.
“Woah, buddy, just making small talk,” the voice sniggered. “No need to get defensive. You admiring my work?”
“You did all this?” Zane questioned.
“You bet your over-gelled hair I did.”
Zane ran his fingers over his styled hair involuntarily.
“Do you and your friend, hiding back there, want to get something to drink at my place? I’m harmless,” he insisted, assuming Zane’s decline. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re in Delaisse—we aren’t exactly violent people,” he laughed.
“No, thank you,” Zane replied coolly.
“Please, I insist,” the man pushed, force in his voice.
Suddenly, I felt a prick in my back. I yelped, turning my head to see a dark figure behind me, flashing both a knife and a snarky grin at me. In response to the noise, Zane looked and saw the man behind us.
“Fine,” Zane submitted. “But keep your hands off of her,” he threatened.
Zane kept his eyes on the man, who stood with his arms crossed as Zane offered a hesitant hand behind himself to help me up.
When I was on my feet, I was finally able to see the source of the voice. The man was lanky, with an oversized, unbuttoned flannel shirt, dirty jeans, a flashlight illuminating the tunnel, and a green spray paint can in the other. His hair was shaggy and straw-colored, grease matting it to his forehead, a few strands dangling right above his piercing blue eyes. His cheeks and chin were covered in thick stubble. He smiled at me, revealing yellowing, chipped teeth.