Rite of Rejection (Acceptance Book 1) (10 page)

Eleven

After lunch Elizabeth and Molly head off to search for materials, leaving me with the boys.

“So what now? What are we supposed to do all day?” Other than eating disgusting food and collecting garbage a few nights a week, I have no idea what goes on inside the PIT. I doubt the Cardinal hosts monthly social gatherings.

“Whatever we want, really.” Daniel takes off across the courtyard, and with nowhere else to go, Eric and I follow. “If you have a job, you go to it. If not, you do something else. I’d say the only rule around here is don’t kill anyone, but that’s not true. They couldn’t care less if we killed each other.”

“Then why don’t they?”

Daniel stops walking to face me. “Why don’t they what?”

I look away so I can voice the thought that’s been sitting in the back of my head since I got here. “Why don’t they just kill us?”

Eric stiffens beside me, but Daniel only nods.

“Because the Cardinal needs us.” He motions to our pitiful surroundings. “You’ve got guards, administrators, and the laborers. Not to mention the manpower needed for the logistics of transporting spoiled food and donated clothes. The PIT is a mini city, employing who knows how many men. With so many jobs becoming automated, the Cardinal needs us alive. But just barely.”

As if I needed more motivation to get out of here. “What are you going to do today?”

“I’m heading out to my secret lair to see if I can find some accessories for the fun new toy you brought me. You’re welcome to come with me.”

“We’d love to see your secret lair.” Eric threads his arm through mine, but it feels more possessive than romantic.

Daniel looks like he regrets the invitation, but it’s too late now. “Come on, then. Just try not to draw any attention. A secret lair isn’t a secret if the whole PIT knows about it.”

Daniel leads us through a part of the compound where the buildings are packed one right next to the other until we reach an outer area where the buildings are older and more spread apart.

My feet are throbbing and I’m about to suggest a break, but he stops and gestures around us. “This is the southern edge of the PIT. And that,” he points straight ahead, “is the fence.”

I’ve never seen anything like it. A steel, chain-link fence at least two stories high, towers above us. I shade my eyes from the sun and peer up at the top. Even if someone managed to climb up, the five foot overhang would require impressive acrobatic moves in order to avoid a twenty-foot free-fall and several broken bones. Getting to the overhang would be a challenge by itself considering the amount of barbed wire crisscrossing the last several feet of fence. No wonder there are hardly any guards. With a fence like this, the Cardinal doesn’t need them.

Outside the fence is nothing but an endless open plain as far as the eye can see. On the very edge of the western horizon miniature mountains dot the landscape. I stare out and imagine running through the waist-high grass until I’m nothing more than a tiny dot in the distance.

“You okay?” Daniel’s hand on my arm pulls me out of the fantasy.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I’m not, but there isn’t anything more Daniel can do. I won’t be okay until we get out of here.

“Let’s keep going. We’re almost there.”

We walk past a few more abandoned buildings and Daniel stops in front of one that stands out a bit. The roof is metal instead of rotted wood like the others. I don’t know anything about architecture, but this building looks sturdier than the ones around it, like someone put a bit more effort into it. Daniel pushes open the door, his hand just below the circle of olive branches still visible against the faded red paint.

“This is an Admin building,” Eric says pausing outside the threshold.

“It was, though it hasn’t seen a red uniform in decades.” Daniel holds the door open and waves his empty hand. “It’s safe, I promise.”

It’s dark inside, but dirt-filtered sunlight from the windows provides enough light to walk around without tripping on anything. The one-room building looks almost exactly like the Technology room I broke into last night. The only difference is dozens of monitors lining the walls here.

“What is this place?” I ask, running my finger across a desk and removing a thick layer of dust.

“The old security building.” Daniel is beaming. This room is a techno-savvy dreamland. “Back when all the cameras around the PIT were still active, this is where the guards monitored everyone’s movements. When the cameras went offline, they abandoned the room and left their equipment behind.”

“So just like that, they gave up watching us?” It doesn’t make sense.

“This was a while ago. Back then the PIT was smaller, easier to control. As the population grew it became harder and harder to watch what was going on.” Daniel runs a hand over his short, dark hair. “It required too many guards to monitor the cameras. The Cardinal needed those resources elsewhere.”

“Why? What did he need them for?”

A thunderous crash pulls my attention away from Daniel. I spin around to find Eric standing in a pile of boxes and a cloud of dust.

“Too bad all they left behind is a bunch of outdated garbage.” Eric picks up a cable that’s split down the seam, its colored wires spilling out.

“Outdated, yes. Garbage, only to the untrained eye.” Daniel takes the ruined cable from Eric. “There are gemstones hidden in here and it’s my job to find them.”

This place looks like a cemetery for hardware. Empty shells of computers cover most of the workspace and one corner has been taken over by a family of rodents.

“So what are we looking for, exactly?” Not that I have any idea what any of this is, but I can at least pretend to be helpful.

Daniel holds out a hand and counts off his wish list on his fingers. “A network chip, connection cables, a storage drive and a card reader.”

“What are you going to do with all that?” Eric asks, sifting through the contents of a drawer.

“That’s what I need to hack into the Cardinal’s system.”

I giggle, a tiny burst of mirth that gets cut short. He’s serious. “What? You can’t…how will you…what?”

“Unless we plan on living in the woods and eating tree bark, we’ll need new identities once we escape.” Daniel pockets a gadget and flashes me an unsettling grin. “I promise it sounds much more complicated that it really is.”

Sure, nothing at all complicated about breaking into what has to be the most secure network in the world. So much for our simple boat ride to freedom.

***

The darkened Admin building gives me the chills. Even though the cameras aren’t working, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m under constant surveillance. I swipe my card across the reader and the doors swish open to my first night of work.

A guard stands by the main desk, a Noteboard in hand. He doesn’t look up at me, but he must be the one I get my assignment from.

“Hi, my name is Rebecca—”

His right hand shoots up and cuffs me on the side of my head. Bright spots of light flash behind my eyelids.

“What in the Cardinal’s name makes you think I care what your name is?” He grabs the card dangling on my makeshift necklace and drags me closer. A beep sounds from the computer and he pushes me back a step. “Sixth floor. Put the can back in the hall when you’re done and hurry up about it. Think I want to be here all night waiting on you lazy swine?”

I’m still a little dizzy from the hit to my head, but I rush to the stairwell door. The overhead lights are out, leaving only the emergency lights and exit signs to guide me up the stuffy stairs. Apparently PIT workers aren’t worth the energy to leave the lights on. No doubt we’re not worth the energy to heat it, either. Thank goodness we’ll be long gone before I have to work in the cold of winter.

As promised, Elizabeth pulled out a dusty bag from under one of the mattresses when we all got back to the bunkhouse. It looks like someone’s dog used it as a chew toy, but Molly sewed up all the big holes. Anything the group would find the least bit useful will be tucked away inside and turned over to Elizabeth after my shift. She’s coordinating supplies for the escape. Of course, food won’t make it back. According to her, walking around the PIT with food is like asking to be attacked.

After another sub-par dinner, food is what I’m dreaming about. Only a week ago I would have been disgusted by the idea of eating someone’s half-eaten lunch from the garbage can. Not tonight.

Pushing the large, wheeled can down the thin rows, I empty desk cans and look for hidden treasures. Daniel gave me tips on things to look out for. Food is at the top of the list, along with paper and writing instruments. I’m also supposed to keep an eye out for any discarded clothing, especially outerwear like gloves or scarves. I doubt I’ll find anything like that given the warm spring weather, but you never know.

His last suggestion was to look for things that can be made into weapons. Letter openers, scissors, paperweights; anything sharp or heavy. But nothing from the desks. Daniel was adamant about it. Other workers might steal from the desks, but according to him, “we don’t.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes when he gave me the speech, but I couldn’t agree with him more. We aren’t criminals, and just because we live with them doesn’t mean we have to act like them. The makeshift weapons are only a last resort if something happens during the escape. We don’t plan to use them to build a reign of terror in the PIT. I’ve never even held a weapon, but after everything I’ve seen in here, having one would be nice.

A few rows in, I fall into a rhythm. Stop at the desk, empty the contents of the can onto the ground. Look for food first and eat it right away. Then sort through the rest, tucking anything useful into the bag and tossing the rest into the can. Elizabeth drilled home the point that I have to do a good job of cleaning up the mess. If I leave any garbage on the floor, even a little, I might lose the job and all the perks that come with it.

By the time I’m done with the floor, I have a decent bag of loot. Several scraps of paper and two broken pencils join a discarded headset and a plastic knife. I’m not sure the plastic knife is worth saving, but I don’t want to risk Elizabeth yelling at me for leaving it behind.

The large can I push back toward the stairwell is mostly full of empty food containers and pencil shavings. Everything from candy wrappers to dehydrated-noodle cups combine to create a collage titled “Food I don’t get to eat.” I reach in to check the inside of a candy wrapper one last time, but freeze at the swish of the stairwell door.

The guard in the lobby didn’t mention anyone else working this floor, and there was only one can waiting on the landing. There’s no reason for another worker to come in here. Moving as quickly and silently as possible, I half crawl, half wiggle to the nearest cubicle and duck down under the desk. I hold my breath and listen for footsteps on the industrial-grey carpet. Either no one is moving and I imagined the door opening, or whoever is out there moves with stealth.

I count out one hundred deep breaths, but there are no other indications that anyone is there. Someone must have been confused about the floors and realized their mistake when they opened the door. I uncurl myself from the tight ball under the desk. When I stand up my shoulder bumps into the desk and knocks over a picture frame. It’s a photo of his wife and two young children sitting outside, smiling up at the camera, happy to know that all the criminals are locked away.

The last thing I need is trouble on my first day. Thankfully, the frame isn’t broken. It only takes a second to set the photo back in its spot. I turn to leave and spin right into a firm, warm chest.

I scream as loud as I can, arms flailing at my attacker. Strong arms wrap around my torso, pinning my arms to my side. The only free part of me is my legs, so I kick at his shins and stomp on his feet. Anything to get away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Massive hands push me into the desk, knocking picture frames everywhere. Fingers weave into my close-cropped hair, jerking my head back and throwing me onto the floor. I don’t get a chance to see my attacker’s face before his knee digs into my spine, pinning me to the sterile grey carpet.

He grabs the bag from my shoulder and everything I’ve collected tonight dumps on to the floor.

“Where’s the food?” His heavy knee digs harder into my back, pushing my trembling torso into the floor. Any second my ribs are going to crack.

“There isn’t any.” I can’t get enough air into my lungs and my shaky voice comes out as barely a whisper.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, grinding the side of my face down until my cheekbone is about to cave in.

“Not lying.” I shake my head a fraction of an inch, the carpet burning my skin. “Food is gone.”

The weight lifts from my back and he throws the burlap bag at my face. “Next time, you better have something better than pencils.” His worn shoe connects with my elbow, but I bite my tongue against the pain stabbing up my arm.

I’m frozen in place as the door whooshes open and closed behind me. Tears I’ve been holding back choke out of my throat. Huge sobs shake my shoulders, adding to the pain in my arm, chest and face.

“Becca?”

I spring like a cat back under the desk, clawing to get away from whoever is here to hurt me again.