The One Safe Place (11 page)

“What happens here?” Devin asked.

“It’s hard to explain,” Luke said. “Karen came to see you this morning, right?”

Devin nodded.

“You had to see the Administrator. That’s because you’re new. Normally when you get the message, you have to come here. Inside it’s all modern, and it’s set up like some sort of lab. There’s a big chair and you have to sit in it and they give you an injection. I don’t know what it is, but it’s terrible. It hurts, Devin. Your whole body hurts. You’re in pain and you dream and all your dreams are bad ones. Really bad ones.”

Luke’s whole body had become completely still, tensed up as if caught in a single massive twitch.

“Horrible dreams that you can’t really describe or explain why they were so bad, even though you—” he broke off abruptly.

“I shouldn’t think about them, I shouldn’t think about them. But my mind gets into a loop, you know? Everything gets scrambled.”

“Can’t you wake yourself up?” Devin said.

“No, it feels like you can’t. Everyone else can see that you’re acting strangely, but you don’t know what you’re doing. While it lasts, there is no ‘you.’ You can’t remember who you are.” He broke off again, shaking his head in frustration.

“I can’t describe it, there’s no use trying.”

“Is that what was happening to Malloy yesterday?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. He was in the Dream. You saw how weird he was. Ansel was the same way when we saw him in the pool. That’s why we don’t look. Kids who are in the Dream act strange, and you don’t want to see them; it reminds you of being that way yourself. And nobody wants to know what crazy stuff they did, so nobody tells.”

“Kit?” Devin whispered.

Luke nodded. “They got her fast. I was surprised.”

“How long will she . . . How long does it last?”

“Two days,” Luke said. “It’s never longer than two days. She’ll be back to normal then.”

“But why? What’s it for?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. I think it’s some kind of experiment they’re doing on us. Something to do with the cognitive sciences, certainly behavioral in some way, although I’ve never heard of any method that—”

Devin wasn’t listening to Luke anymore. He was staring up at one of the windows at the top of the Place. The sun had dipped below the level of the roof, and with the glare gone, he could make out the details of brick and glass more clearly. He grabbed Luke’s wiry arm.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“Where?”

“I saw something, in the window. Up there, the one in the middle . . .”

Luke shaded his eyes and peered. “I don’t see anything. What was it?”

“Something moved,” Devin said. “I saw it for a second.”

“What?”

Devin didn’t answer. The truth was, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d seen. It had been small and thin, not pressed completely flat against the glass but slightly bent. Had it been a claw?

He pushed the thought away.

“Probably just a trick of the light or something.” he said.

It was growing dark as they made their way back to the courtyard and their rooms. Devin had many more questions, but he could see that talking about the Place and what went on there had upset Luke. His nerves seemed frayed to snapping.

A pale moon showed itself above the treetops. It shone on the horses quietly grazing, the neat pathways, and the ivy-covered walls with a peaceful, steady light. From the dining hall came the faint clatter of dishes, ordinary and comforting.

“It all looks so . . . normal,” Devin said.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “You’d never guess it was anything but a paradise. But every inch is wired, Devin. They’ve got sensors, devices everywhere, keeping track of us. The whole place is fake, like that wall of books in the Administrator’s office. I was there once and I saw part of it slide back. There’s a control panel behind it. Some alarm had gone off—it wasn’t anything but a glitch, I guess. She told me to leave, but just before the elevator door closed I saw her switch the alarm off from that panel.

“The books are fake?” Devin was surprised. “All one thousand and ninety three?”

Luke looked startled. “You counted them? You must have been there a long time.”

Devin shook his head. “They were right in front of me.”

Luke went back to his room and Devin went to eat supper. As he ate, a great weariness came over him. He longed for sleep, his mind almost overwhelmed with the events of the day. He had left the dining room and was just about to enter his dorm when he saw Roman coming across the courtyard. Megs was trotting behind him like a ghost, her dress and hair turned to gray in the moonlight.

Devin stopped, and Megs immediately ran to him. “Did you find me a match? Roman’s got a lighter, but he won’t let me hold it. He keeps it in his pocket.”

Devin stared at Roman in silence.

“I trusted you,” he said at last.

Roman’s eyes were as pale as river pebbles washed by endless flow. He held Devin’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I’m good at that.”

Ten

DEVIN CAUGHT SIGHT OF
Malloy next morning in the dining room. Malloy was cramming his mouth with scrambled egg, little flecks of it spraying in all directions. His eyes were closed as if he was in a kind of rapture. There was a mountain of egg on his plate, smothered with lashings of maple syrup and dollops of chocolate sauce.

He was still in the Dream, as Luke had called it. Devin looked away, feeling slightly sick.

After breakfast he wandered the grounds of the Home. The toys and entertainment no longer filled him with wonder or even enthusiasm, and he understood why there were so few children actually playing. Knowing you were part of some painful experiment made it hard to enjoy anything much. For all its novelty, a stifling air of sameness hung over the Gabriel H. Penn Home for Childhood. The same heaps of food in the dining room, the same sort of clothes worn by everyone, the same tinkling notes carried on the breeze.

Dumdee, dumdee, dum dum dum . . .

He saw Mrs. Babbage, hurrying along with a pile of bed linens in her arms. She stopped when she saw him.

“You’re ever so pale, Devin dear,” she said. “You need a treat! Go get yourself something from the ice-cream truck. You can hear it now.”

“Is that what that music is?”

Mrs. Babbage’s lips tightened into a smile.

“Yankee Doodle! It’s such a popular tune, they play it over and over.”

“Mrs. Babbage?” Devin said, finding hope in her friendly tone.

“What is it, dear?”

“This place . . . ,” he began, his words tumbling out in distress. “The Administrator . . .”

“You’ll have been to see her by now,” Mrs. Babbage said. “Doesn’t she do a wonderful job? She keeps it all ever so perfect, doesn’t she? Oh yes, everything has to be just right.

“You’d think Mr. Penn would have come to admire it,” she continued. “He built the Home, you know. The whole thing was all his idea. But he’s not been back, not even once. I find that very strange, I must say.”

“I’m worried,” Devin said. “I’m worried about Kit.”

Mrs. Babbage tilted her head to one side. “Oh, you mustn’t worry. Kit is perfectly fine! I’m sure of it. She’s such a pretty little thing. I’m sure she’ll get adopted very, very soon.”

“Adopted?”

Mrs. Babbage seemed surprised by his question. “Didn’t anyone tell you?” she asked. “From time to time the children here get adopted. By lovely people, Devin. People who adore children. Wealthy people.”

“Who are they?”

“Why, the Visitors of course! That’s what they’re here for!”

Devin remembered how the eyes of the old people had traveled from one child to another in the gym, and how the kids had suddenly perked up and started playing when the Visitors were there.

“Run along to the common room—it’s next door to the dining room—and you’ll see pictures of all the kids who’ve been adopted. Why, I don’t think it will be long before you’ll be joining them. And Kit too. Perhaps together! Wouldn’t that be something?”

Devin nodded, a little bewildered by this news.

“Run along now and take a look,” Mrs. Babbage urged him.

The common room was a large, comfortable space, full of deep sofas and shelves loaded with books and jigsaw puzzles. A girl was sitting reading in one corner, her legs carefully crossed at the ankles. A fly buzzed drowsily against the window. On one wall there was a large corkboard, almost entirely covered by photographs.

The photos were all of children and old people together. The old people didn’t look particularly frail. They were the sort of elderly types whose faces still looked pretty much the same as when they were young, only more wrinkled. His grandfather had been like that, Devin thought, and tears rose in his eyes. He took a deep breath, blinked them away, and turned back to the corkboard. The children in the photos were all smiling. Some were hugging their adopted parents, while others played with kittens or held wonderful-looking toys, such as miniature cars and big, round, brightly colored hoops. One was standing on a stretch of sand in the sunshine, holding a large shell toward the camera while an older couple clapped and beamed.

Devin looked from one picture to another. After what Luke had told him the day before, he’d wondered why the children in the Home didn’t rebel. Now he knew. They were hoping to be adopted, to find a family and a home.

His thoughts were interrupted by the girl sitting reading.

“You don’t look special,” she said abruptly, giving him a scornful glance.

“What do you mean?”

She licked her finger very delicately and turned the page of her book. “She thinks you are for some reason.”

“Who? The Administrator?”

“Roman’s back on her good side for finding you. That’s what I heard.”

Devin stared at her. She was about thirteen, with long, dark hair that hung in odd-shaped curls around her face and lay completely flat everywhere else. Her nails were red. Devin could see the scribbly lines of the marker pen she had used to paint them.

“I’m Devin,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And you’ve made friends with Luke, haven’t you? I’d be careful about that. He’s nearly Spoiled, you know.”

“You mean because he used to be rich?”

She rolled her eyes again. “No. Spoiled. Don’t you know anything?”

He shook his head.

“It’s not good to be Spoiled,” the girl said with a smug look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Devin said. “I have to go. I have to be somewhere . . .”

Back outside, Ansel was on the soccer field again, kicking his ball around, despite the heat. There was something almost robotic in the way he charged to and fro, but he came panting up to Devin the minute he caught sight of him.

“Hey, friend,” he said in his straightforward way. “No hard feelings about yesterday?”

He wiped his hand on his jeans and held it out. Devin took it and they shook solemnly.

“No hard feelings,” Devin agreed. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t understand about . . .”

“It’s okay. I find it helps to exercise after I’ve been in the Dream. You know, run around a bit. It used to be I could take the edge off after an hour or two, but recently . . .” He broke off, his face creased with worry. “Recently it’s been harder. I’ve been forgetting things. Not just during, but after, when I’m back to normal. An hour can go by and I don’t know what happened. I just don’t know. Does that ever happen to you?”