by Corrie Wang
Outside the cafeteria I find myself in the usual endless charcoal-gray hallway. Except this one leads in three different directions. As I debate where to go, a door opens on my right. A boy with blue eyes, somewhere around the Tens, steps out. With a finger to his lips, he points farther down the hall. Breaker has a gift. It can’t be good. Just a little moment, I hear Sway sing.
Right. Whatever awfulness Breaker has in store, it won’t last forever.
I jog ahead. Another boy around Motor’s age is waiting at the next corner. He gestures for me to make a left. At the next corner is yet another boy. He holds out a hand to me. Wait. Together, we peer around the corner as a guard and a Little come out of a room. The Little is sobbing, his pants thoroughly soaked at the crotch.
“Hush, Crusher,” the guard says in a much softer voice than I’d expect. “Megatron didn’t mean to spill his drink, and we have more pairs of pants.”
“But these are my favorites,” the Little wails.
Doctor immediately appears on the wall next to them. The Little cries harder.
“Honor with a Little, Doc,” the guard says. “Going to the restroom to clean up.”
Maybe it’s the name or the fluidity of his voice or that his ponytail looks identical to Liyan’s, but for a split second, I can’t help thinking, That guard is a fee.
“All right,” Doctor replies. “Proceed.”
When the guard and Little turn the far corner, the doctor’s image disappears. I’m waved on. The door to the room the guard left is still cracked open. Inside, it’s painted a sunshine yellow. Overflowing toy chests, books, and games are stacked against the walls. Farther in, two long tables are surrounded by the Littles eating dinner. A Sixteen I recognize from Breaker’s crew walks around and helps them cut their food. On dirty plates in a tub by the door, I glimpse a few bites of broccoli and something that looks like a nut cake.
At least the Littles get to eat real food.
I’m about to push open the door when another male comes out of the room directly across the hall. Freckles pepper his nose. He waves me to him. After a brief hesitation he puts his lips to my ear.
“We gotta help them watch the Littles. It’s too much for one guard.” Then he gestures to the room he just left. “You got eight minutes. Doc can’t go there. I’ll knock.”
The room I step into is steeped in darkness and isn’t finished like the others. The walls are only beams. Plastic covers the windows. Yet it’s the most fantastic room I have ever been in, because there, at the heart of it, working on a puzzle on the concrete floor, is Two Five.
“Hey, little cricket,” I whisper.
He startles. “Glori, is that really you?”
Then he’s standing up and I’m kneeling down, and a moment later he launches himself into my arms. I scoop him up and swing him around. I didn’t know joy and love could ever feel painful, but I’m having a hard time breathing through them as Twofer and I simultaneously laugh and cry with relief. I’ll never let Twofer out of my sight again.
“I can’t breathe,” he squeaks, but then hugs me tighter.
I kiss his head. Too many times to count. Finally, we sit. He stays in my lap the way he hasn’t done since he was a toddler. There’s so much we need to discuss, but for a minute I simply thrill in his voice and smell and warmth and chatter and him.
“You look like Su!” He pats my shaved head. “But why’s it yellow? And how’d you get here? Do you want to know how I got here? First, masks came to get me and I was scared. I called for you. But they said you were coming. And I said, ‘Oh, okay.’ Then they gave me something called candy. It hurt my teeth but made me really excited. Then we went in a boat. Well, first we went in a car. Then we went in a boat. And then they had an argument about who was going to kill me.”
I put a hand to my mouth, but Twofer simply continues to tick off his memories as nonchalantly as he lists objects in that game I made up called Everything I Can See.
“Finally, Pig said it would do it. Then Pig and I ran and got in another car, and Pig said it was only joking about that killing stuff, it was actually taking me to a place called the Fortress that was like something called camp. But I already knew what one was, because remember? We used to build them in the living room? And did you see? I drew a picture of it on the window.”
“I did. That was very smart, Twosie. It helped me find you.” He smiles, happy I’m impressed. “Did you happen to see who Pig was under the mask he wore? Like did he have any tattoos or special markings?”
“No, Pig didn’t like when I looked at it. But its voice was real deep. Did you know they have different books here than the ones we used to read? Everyone in them is a beast! Isn’t that so weird? I can’t wait for you to meet my roommate. Her name is Hercules.”
“His name, Twofer.”
The pronouns would take him a minute to learn, too.
“Oh, okay.” But then he is suddenly serious and whispers, “Glori, I have to tell you something. Don’t get mad. But they let me have a real name here. I’m Mouse Scooter! Isn’t that great? I don’t have to be a number anymore.”
My eyes tear up. How could I have thought his name never bothered him? Like as much as I loved him, a little part of me still thought he was less human than me somehow. I feel sick.
“Mouse Scooter, huh? That’s a great name. Did you pick it?”
He nods proudly. “Mouse just like Mickey. Scooter ’cause Bicycle was already taken. It’s my name, but it’s two names!”
“That is very green.” There’s a Band-Aid on the crook of his arm. “What happened here?”
“Oh, I got a shot this morning. Honor told me it was just for me and all the big boys. It’s called a vaccine. Don’t worry. It didn’t hurt. And guess who went first?”
“Your roommate, Hercules?”
He cackles. “I said only the big boys got shots. No, it was me! But then Hercules cried ’cause she felt left out. And one of the Sixteens felt bad and he gave her—I mean, him—one, too. Isn’t that great?”
This is not my favorite information, but before I can ask him if he knows what they were vaccinating against, there’s a knock on the door. My time can’t already be up. That was barely a couple of minutes. I hoist Twofer—Mouse—into my arms. Yet when the door opens I immediately put him down and shove him behind me.
It’s not the freckled boy.
“Seems like we meet again, Walk-In.”
It’s Breaker. With a flat smile, he locks the door behind him.
My personal wing chung fighting stance is not impressive—standing sideways, knees bent, arms at the ready in front of my chest. For this confrontation, I borrow Itami’s stance instead. A low side lunge, my hands balled into fists, one over my head and the other out in front of me. Following my lead, Mouse raises two little fists in front of him.
“What game’s this one?” my brother asks, laughing.
Breaker rubs his balding head. Dandruff flies everywhere. He looks behind him. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Getting ready to fight,” I say. “What are you doing?”
“My memory ain’t great, Walk-In, but if it serves me right, in the yard I was merely approaching you the way I am now. You went violent. No hard feelings, though, or feelings of any kind. This is the Fortress.”
His shoulders silently shake up and down. He opens his mouth. Except no sound comes out. Wait. Did Breaker just make a joke?
“That’s how he laughs,” Mouse whispers. “It’s so Doc don’t hear him.”
“It’s so Doc doesn’t hear him. Breaker, why did you bring me here?”
“Little here’s been telling us when you came for him, you’d escape.”
“You knew I was coming for you?” I spin on Mouse and put a hand on his head.
“Of course,” he says brightly, then nods encouragingly at me with big serious eyes. “Go ahead, tell him. Breaker watches us at breakfast. He’s fun. Except for his weird laughing thing.”
“Mouse, don’t be r
ude,” I scold. “Manners.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Glori. Beasts don’t have any. Isn’t it great?”
Ever so slightly, Breaker smiles at Mouse. With his hands held up in an I-won’t-hurt-you style, he nods toward the window. Thick opaque plastic sheeting is stapled over it, yet a faint outside glow manages to permeate. When we get to the window, Breaker leans into the diffuse light.
“Yes,” I whisper, though I don’t need to in here. “We’re leaving.”
“How?” Breaker asks.
There’s a knock on the door. Freckles pokes his head in.
“Five minutes.”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t got much further than stealing Motor’s keycard. I also have to get my friend Sway. Motor thinks he’s downstairs.”
Breaker lightly touches the perimeter of his bandaged nose, then nods. Not like Sway does, as if in time to a beat that no one else can hear. Just once.
“Walk-In, your friend is downstairs. I ain’t seen him, but I heard him plenty.”
“You didn’t see him,” I automatically correct. “Oh my mother.”
Mouse pats my leg consolingly.
“What I mean is,” Breaker continues, “he was screaming—loudly—in pain.”
“Yes, thank you, Breaker. That was clear the first time.”
Doctor told me if I stepped out of line, he’d hurt someone I cared about. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t done one single thing wrong. Well, except for being here right now. And plotting to escape. And smashing Breaker’s nose. But other than that, I’d followed his rules. But he’d hurt Sway anyway. My nails bite my palms until Mouse takes hold of my pointer finger and shakes my hand out, making me relax.
There’s another knock on the door.
More urgently: “Three minutes, Break.”
“It never used to be like this. Doctor’s just doing what’s necessary to manage everyone.”
“By putting sedatives in your milk?”
It’s a guess, but Breaker nods.
“It calms us, makes us feel… happy. But over the years, we kinda, like, found that cooperation is the only dependable thing. If you try to escape alone, you will get caught. If you trust us, we can help you get your friend and your brother, and you will leave here alive. But you gotta, like, do exactly what we say.”
I look to Mouse. He nods at me. As if it’s that simple, trusting this strange male.
“Why are you helping us?”
Breaker palms his head again.
“What else we got to do?”
I take a deep breath. “All right. What’s the plan?”
Considering he’s had years to formulate a getaway, Breaker’s plan is much better than mine. In an hour, when everyone goes to sleep—guards included—I’m going to swipe Motor’s card. Go down six flights of stairs, into something called the Room with the Pants, and free Sway. Meanwhile, Breaker will take Mouse to the cafeteria. Once I have Sway we’ll meet up, then use Maximum’s employee keycard to let ourselves out the loading dock.
That was it. Keep quiet. Rescue my friend. Then leave.
“Wait. Maximum has a keycard that lets him outside?”
“Yes. So the elders don’t have to haul heavy trash bags. I’m unsure what to do, though, if a guard stops any of us.”
“Breaker, you do know there’s a lot more of you than there are them, right? And wait, if Maximum can leave, why are any of you still here?”
Breaker shrugs. “Most of us have never even seen the outside. We kinda, like, didn’t know there was even anywhere else to go. Here. I drew you a map.”
He hands me sheets of construction paper. Each one has a floor plan of the Fortress traced on it in crayon. One per level, marking all the hallways, bedrooms, and common spaces with tiny boxes and lines. I commit them to memory and hand them back. The plan’s simple enough. Except it means leaving Mouse.
“Mouse, you think you can keep all this a secret until I see you again?”
Hearing me say his new name makes him smile. He gives a thumbs-up.
When we follow Breaker back out into the hall, Mouse happily skips ahead.
“Thirty seconds,” Freckles murmurs, mild concern flashing across his features.
Breaker and I both look down the hall. He seems to hear it, too. The distant soft sound of shoes on carpet. The guard and the Little are coming back. The guard is quietly humming “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.” Still, I give Mouse one last quick hug.
“Glori, can I bring something with me?” he wetly whispers against my ear.
“As long as it travels well, Mouse.”
“Oh, it definitely does.”
Rejoining the other Littles, he shouts, “I’m back, guys!” which helps make the fact I’m leaving him again only slightly less awful.
As the chimes sound indicating the end of dinner, Breaker tugs on my sleeve. Silently—reluctantly—I jog down the hall after him, away from the returning guard.
“Breaker,” I whisper after we turn the corner. “Seriously. Why are you helping us?”
“Many moons ago, it was told that a walk-in would come and set us free.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “Really?”
“No,” he says as his shoulders move up and down. For a male that’s had his personality corrected, Breaker is actually pretty funny. “But I kinda hoped if you got out, you’d maybe send someone back to help the rest of us.”
When we get back to the cafeteria he squints inside, then sets a timer of his own. It floats on the wall above him. It’s a quarter of the size of Motor’s and green, but it keeps the same time. He wants me to send help. If I get out of here, who exactly would I send back? No fee could come to their aid, even if they wanted to. (Which I’m sure most wouldn’t.) Meanwhile, Chia and/or Rage run this place. They want these males locked up.
I can hear Sway sigh with exasperation. Breaker and I had a plan. It would work. I just needed to stick to it. You can’t save everyone. But shouldn’t you at least try?
“How you aiming to do it?” Breaker asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Do what?”
“Dispose of Motor.”
According to Breaker, the Butler system was only capable of recognizing the keycards the males held, not individual voices. Any words it picked up were transmitted back to the doctor as a text message along with the cardholder’s ID. Which meant as long as I could passably fake the way Motor spoke, if Doctor appeared and asked me why I was going downstairs when I should be sleeping, I could say I needed a Band-Aid and be by Sway’s side five minutes later.
“Think you can talk like Motor, Walk-In?” Breaker had asked.
To which I’d replied, “Duh.”
We’d both had a good silent creepy non-laugh laugh over that one.
Now I say, “I figured I’d tie him up and leave him in the bathroom.”
“Tie him up with what?” Breaker asks.
“I don’t know. Bedsheets?”
My room didn’t have any, but Motor and I were both recent additions to the space. Surely other rooms had bedsheets. But Breaker shakes his head.
“Ain’t any. Not since Excelente hanged himself up with them.”
“All right, then I’ll knock Motor out.”
“How long’s that last?”
“Well, I can’t be sure, Breaker. Last time I concussed someone I didn’t exactly stick around to time it.”
His eyebrows lightly furrow, yet somehow his expression manages to convey a disappointment far greater than one of Grand’s ten-minute-long guilt trips about the importance of upcycling.
“What are you suggesting,” I ask, “that I kill him?”
I laugh. Breaker merely blinks.
“Oh my mother,” I say, incredulously. “That is what you’re suggesting.”
All too seriously he says, “You aim to leave here, right, Walk-In? And you aim to do that under Doctor’s nose with your friend and brother? Doc always says it only takes one loose thread to unravel a sweater. And Motor is as loud and unt
rustworthy as a loose thread comes. Ask me? You gotta remember what’s at stake.”
We both stare into the cafeteria, where Motor sits with his back to us. From the hunch of his shoulders and his swift side-to-side glances, it’s clear he’s plotting how he’ll take down the whole lot of them.
I sigh. “I’m sure I can think of something other than murder. Either way, wish me luck.”
Breaker spits on the floor. “Don’t believe in it. What’d luck ever do but land me here?”
A moment later, when I hurry back into the cafeteria, Motor is literally on the edge of his seat waiting for me. He’s changed his clothes but clearly didn’t bother to wash. His scalp looks tacky, and his face and arms glisten with dried milk and meal. He’s also starting to smell. Like rotting fish. His mood is just as foul.
“Geez,” he wheezes in his raspy voice. “Where’d you go? We’re almost at third chime.”
“I had to use the bathroom. Meal ran straight through me.”
“Well, next time at least leave me a murmur.”
When we get back to his bedroom, the wall is now a deep midnight blue and offers just enough illumination for us to get to our beds without bumping into anything. It also makes the timer more blinding than the sun on a rare cloudless day.
2:51:15. 2:51:14. 2:51:13.
Breaker said to wait until the even two-hour mark to make sure everyone’s asleep. He said the milk helps with that. I’d rather go now. I wonder how close my “friend” actually is. Regardless, I tell myself two hours is plenty of time to execute our plan. I might even be able to shut my eyes for thirty minutes. Yet after I lie down I immediately feel a light depression on my mattress. Motor has crawled over his baseboard and is sitting at the foot of my bed. Doctor gave all the males sedatives to drink, but Motor dumped his. No wonder Motor is so… Motor. I sit up. He holds up a hand in a silent wave.
It unleashes a new flood of pickled funk into the room.
“Doesn’t the Fortress have showers?” I whisper.
“Right across the hall.” He nods as he pushes his glasses up. “But I hardly ever use them. It’s not like I get dirty in here. They’re too hot, anyway.”
