Escape from Harrizel (9 page)

“So obvious?”

Her voice lowers. “They
want
us to
see.”

Shit
.

So escape may not be the best plan. Not yet
at least. But I can’t live here. I can’t let this be my life. This
isn’t
my life. But him—that boy. He got out of here and
returned. They haven’t taken him so it’s possible that I could do
the same. I’ll just never come back.

“What?” Raj winces, watching me work through
things.

But I can’t give away my plan. To find
him—whoever he is—and get the secret; and find out how he was able
to leave without being dragged back. For now—
right
now—I’ll
have to stay put. Endure this until I’m able to do something about
it. But if I’m going to stay, I’ll need to know more about how this
whole system works.

“Raj… I need you to do something for
me.”

“What?”

I draw her in close, whispering into her ear
again, “I need you to point out the Clans. Who’re the big
players?”

“But you can’t—”

“I’m not going to
talk
to them. Just
want to know who they are.”

“I…”

“You know, don’t you? Tell me. You’ve
got
to tell me.”

“Um…” her eyes shift nervously before
finding mine again. “Okay, but you
cannot
talk to them. I’m
serious. They’re just as bad as the Dofinikes if they feel
threatened.”

“Then… think of it as warning me who
not
to bother.”

“Okay.”

She links her arm in mine as we casually
meander. She’s quiet for a few minutes, just as we reach the North
Wall and then she leans into my ear with a whisper. “A lot of them
aren’t here. They’re mostly in the Maze.”

“Do you see
anyone
?”

“A few Scouts. Low level.”

We continue around the Auditorium,
completing a near lap until we pause by the Southwest wall. Raj
motions ahead, keeping her voice to a low mumble. “That’s him.”

“Who?”

She gestures again before turning toward my
shoulder, “Straight ahead. Light brown hair. Blue eyes. That’s
Tucker—the Rogue’s Leader.”

I follow her gaze and pinpoint the
candidate. Tall and muscular, he falls in with everyone else,
donning the same well-fitted scratchy blue scrubs. But instead of
dancing along with the amorous crowd, he hovers close to the West
Wall, arms crossed as he listens to three guys all attempt to
explain something at once.

“Rogues,” Raj whispers.

“And you can’t approach them?”

“No!” she squeezes her arm with mine,
speaking into my shoulder again. “I told you. It’s suicide. We’re
probably being watched right now, watching them. Come on,” she
directs us through the entanglement of bodies grinding together
around the iridescent trunk in the center of the room. Once we’re
through and Tucker and the Rogues are no longer visible, she
slows.

“Okay,” I recap, “so no approaching
Clans.”

“And oh!” her eyes flare, “same goes for
Rox. But, like, a
thousand
fold.”

“Who’s Rox?”

“The one who’s
really
in charge. You
want your Kingpin, that’s him. Tucker is the Rogues’ Leader, but he
reports
to Rox.”

“So… is Rox in charge of both Clans?”

Raj shakes her head. “Just the Rogues. But
he’s
lethal
.”

“Okay…well where is he? What does he look
like?”

“He’s normally not here during Leisure time.
Probably in the Maze.”

“If you find him, point him out.”

“Will do,” she nods, “and with Grisham too.
He’s the Kings’ Leader.”

I can’t believe I came to Leisure Time
expecting to get an inch of information and came away with the
whole damn dictionary. I guess it’s good though. Better. I need to
know everything I can. It’s the only way to survive before I can
leave again. And I will. Once I find him and I know his secret, I’m
gone.

With no other purpose for being down here, I
eye the closest stairwell. I’m about to head for it when I stop and
turn to Raj. She didn’t have to tell me any of this. I could’ve
been lost or barked up the wrong tree on accident. At least I’m
somewhat the wiser. “Thanks, Raj.”

Her grin is the last thing I see before I
dart up the obsidian steps and over the snaking Gizella roots. I
dash past the hovering babeebs, eager to make my way to my bunker.
That’s the plan. But once I reach the Courtyard, I slow. Chills
race up my spine, my heart thumping in response to the eerie
feeling suddenly overwhelming me. I scan the Courtyard. Few linger
in conversations, some fondling each other while the rest make
their way back for their rooms like me.

Then I see her—the one stagnant in a slow
but steady stream. Younger than most—ten, maybe eleven—she clutches
a rounded maroon something in her hand as she leans against one of
the black tarantula trees. With her pensive hazel eyes locked on
mine, she brings the food to her mouth for a deliberate bite, red
juice spilling down her chin and onto her fitted blue top.

She wants me to see this.

The girl continually stares as she takes
another bite, trying to figure something out. I give her one final
look before heading up the fifteen flights to my bunker and once
inside, I lock the latch, throwing myself onto the mattress of
rags. My mind races itself into a frenzy as I drift away wondering
about the taste of that red juice.

***

Rebuilding.

Could it get any worse than this? And with
the gate so close… so alluring. I’m tempted.
So
tempted. But
it’s not freedom. It’s a trap. I have to keep telling myself that.
Over and over, otherwise, I’m bound to make a go at it.

Who knows how long I’ve been out here. It
seems like forever. It could be two minutes. Could be two hours.
Time doesn’t pass and I can’t stand the thought of this being the
rest of my life. Pushing that thought from my mind, I decide it’s
time for a break. I make for the ladder, climb out of the trench
and head for the giant metal pole in the center of the lot.

A swarm of people already surround it, in
need of a break like me. Its sizable width allows for multiple
uses, so rows and rows of shiny blue buttons with small black
squares cover the rounded metal surface. The squares dispense a cup
and the buttons fill them with water. As I find a clearing and
focus on a square close to eye level, a moving, hurried force
knocks me off balance.

Him
.

Instant relief fills me as all worries about
never getting a second chance vanish. A quick dash and I’m at his
side, following him back to the Gollops. “Clever.”

It takes a minute but he finally glances
over and when he does, he remains silent, merely scanning me. We
walk in silence and I wait for him to say something but he never
does.

“Want to tell me how you got out there?”

“Not really.”

“Come on.”

His long strides take him far, fast, but I’m
tall too. I can keep up. Except then he stops abruptly, leaning in.
“Can you keep a secret?”

My heart skips. I mirror his stance, our
faces inches apart, “Yes…”

“So can I,” he pulls back, walking away with
a teasing grin. It takes a moment to realize he’s not telling me
and that I’m still miles from the truth. But at least he’s talking.
I’ve just got to keep him going.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Like to know who I’m talking to.”

“Or stalking?” he raises a brow.

“
You’re
the one who keeps knocking
into me,” I scoff, “without an apology I might add.”

“Yet here you are.”

“It’s because you’re
so
dreamy,” I
roll my eyes. “Look, I just want to know—”

“Nope.”

The vibrating Gollops sing over the gray
ground as a dust cloud skirts past, polluting the air with cover.
I’m losing time—I have to get it out of him now.
Right
now.
Racing in front, I force him to stop and, surprisingly, he
acquiesces. “You were me once,” I search his eyes for any friendly
flame, any trace of humor. “Do yourself a favor.”

There’s no response to this, not even a
flinch. It’s like he’s trying to decide what the right reaction
should be… and then, the one he wants to give. He makes me wait an
insanely long time until resuming livelihood with the start of an
optimistic nod. But then, when he opens his mouth to what I hope
will be the truth, he walks past me, wordless.

I’m at his side. “Wow, you’re hard on
yourself.”

“And you’re aiming high. Now really, what do
you want?”

“The pleasure of your company. Is that not
obvious?”

“It’s not free,” he states as if it were
some law I should be aware of. But after a second, when weakness
gives way, he flashes me a look. Nothing much, just the tiniest
twitch at the corner of his mouth, like the seed to an unborn
smile. “But I understand the desire.”

“So…” I keep it hopeful, “you could make an
exception?”

“I could…” he feigns thinking about it, “but
no.”

“I’ll owe you,” I keep pace with him,
although he’s making it extremely difficult.

“You can’t afford it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“So you know everything?”

“Pretty much.”

I slow to a stop. “God you’re vain.”

“Not vain,” he abruptly halts as well,
crossing his arms, “honest. I’m losing time here, Fallon. Now what
can I do for you?”

“So you get my name and I don’t get
yours?”

He exhales as though I’m asking the world
from him. “Reid,” he confesses after a minute. “You can call me
Reid.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You have no idea.”

“Look…” I approach him, “…
Reid
. Not
trying to impose. Just, help me out. I need to get out of
here.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else.”

“So…” another step and this time his body
goes rigid, “will you tell me?”

He exhales, seriously considering this time.
I think I might have broken through his shield but then
disappointment flexes in his guilt-stricken features. “Sorry,” he
shakes his head, backing away. “Can’t.”

He leaves before I have a chance to respond,
making his way for the Gollops with quick, confident strides. Now
what am I supposed to do? I continue for the Water Pole, trying to
strategize my next move when a shrill, deadening scream slices the
air, silencing everything around us to an eerie halt.

I’ve never heard such a sound.

Like seeing one’s childhood nightmares
appear. Watching them come for you, believing in that kind of evil,
knowing it still exists.
Terror
. I know it. The feeling.
Being stripped of your voice, of your ability and freedom to fight
back. Of everything keeping you alive, keeping you human. But she
fought. If only for a second. And we heard it, hanging in her
scream, a warning cry to us all.

It’s real. It’s all real...

A dust cloud blows over and everyone has
vanished. Even the Water Pole lies hidden beneath waves of the grey
ash. They sweep from the trenches, skirting the matted, cracked
dirt and separating us in billowing sheets. Footsteps draw nearer,
slowly at first, just as silhouettes emerge through the veil. All
drawn by instinct to the cry, they narrow their direction to
me.

I’m about to tell them they’re
mistaken—they’ve got the wrong girl—when a voice croaks behind me
and I turn.

On the ground, just feet away, lies a girl
no older than Raj, bound by air restraints, paralyzed on the
ground. Her wrists lay cuffed on the small of her back, her bare
feet just inches apart. So still she could be asleep, it’s the eyes
you see first. The eyes that give it away.

They flash panic to each person approaching
but no one steps any closer. It’s like a bubble of space has been
drawn around her, commanding us to stop at the line. With every
person pausing at the sight of her, her fear heightens.

Will no one help?

Finally, she sees me, targeting my face like
a magnet. I want to—I want to
so
badly—but I can’t look
away. She begs,
pleads
with me to help her. To do something.
I’m her only chance. But what can I do? I don’t have any power. I’m
only one person.

A tear escapes, gliding over her quivering
nose and dripping to muddied blonde hair below. She holds my stare
until six black talons crash into the dirt by her legs—the landing
to a half mile’s thunderous leap. Her screaming eyes swell at the
sight as the dust dissipates, revealing him like an illusion before
us.

A
real
Dofinike.

The ones at the gate were so small,
scurrying around like tiny bugs on a pole. Even Jeb hinted at their
ineffectualness. But up close, just feet away, it’s different.
He’s
different.

And enormous.

Looming at seven—maybe eight—feet, he towers
with wide, hardened shoulders and a jagged wooden staff sharpened
at the tip to three metal points. Dark pine, his shelled body
plates cover him like impenetrable armor with thin, lizard-like
skin stretching over boulder-sized thighs and biceps. Whiskers
cascade beneath his snout, under two center slits in his cratered,
scaly face, but it’s the eyes you see first. Those yellow eyes that
stop you in your tracks.

He glances to the girl before scanning the
rest of us, a quickly growing crowd. With the dust gone, more
people migrate closer, peaking over each other’s heads, trying to
get a better look at the scene. The Dofinike sniffs and nearly
everyone backs up, jetting behind one another. He grunts in a low,
warning pitch which rolls into a breathy growl as steam pours from
his nostrils, playing his whiskers like chimes. He scans us again.
Each face. Each new human investigating the scene. There are so
many of us but only one of him.