8th Day

by Kate Calloway

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Madeline

  Eleven Days Earlier

  On the night of May fourth, Maddie was so excited, she couldn't lie still. She had to pee, but didn't dare get up for fear of waking someone. Everything was in place and now she just had to wait for the snoring to start up. The night before, she'd unscrewed the window latches, and in the morning, after everyone had made their mad dash for roll call, she'd practiced opening it, which was a good thing because the window was rusted shut. But after a few tries, the thing came loose, and though it still made a little noise, with all the snoring, she hoped no one would hear it.

  Two nights earlier, in the dark, she'd fashioned a knapsack out of one of her tee shirts, pinning the sleeves and neck hole together, then stuffing the laden baggies inside. She could use the ace bandage to tie it closed and then loop it over her shoulder once she was free. Getting down was going to be the tricky part, not because she didn't know what to do, but because there was no way to practice ahead of time.

  Now, as the snoring began to fill the room, Maddie reached into the side of her mattress and began pulling her hidden treasures out, careful not to make noise. Luckily her bed was on the top bunk and at the far end of the room, allowing her relative privacy. By now, she knew the objects by their shape, so often had she taken inventory in the dark. One by one, she stuffed them into her knapsack and was pleased with how heavy it felt in her lap. She listened in the dark, staring out her window, waiting.

  After what seemed an impossible exercise in patience, she pulled out the clothes she'd hidden that night under her pillow and quietly slipped them on. She tied her shoe laces in the dark, her hands trembling.

  When once again she was sure that no one was stirring, she sat up and silently slid the end of her ace bandage through a metal hoop on the wooden window frame. She didn't know what the hoop was for, probably used in the old days to open and close the window with a window pole. She only hoped it would be strong enough to bear her weight. She slid the ace bandage through until she had equal lengths on either side, then tied her knapsack to the bottom of one end. Then she lay back and rested, willing her heart to quit racing.

  Finally, she reached up and gently pushed against the window frame. The scraping noise was much worse than she'd feared, and she stopped immediately, afraid it had wakened someone. But the snoring continued, and after what seemed an eternity, Maddie pushed the window wider, breathing the fresh air with excitement. She lifted the ace bandage from her lap and tossed it, knapsack and all, out the window. She held her breath, but it hardly made a thud as it swung against the wall outside.

  The next part was even trickier. She knew the bunk would creak when she stood on it, but she had no choice. Grasping the top of the ace bandage in both hands, Maddie stepped onto the window sill, said a silent prayer, and testing her weight just once to make sure, she stepped off the ledge into nothingness.

  There was nothing to it, though. In seconds, she'd shimmied down her homemade rope and plunked softly onto the ground. Now she hurriedly pulled the ace bandage through the window hoop and rolled it up as she made her way to the machine shop.

  This was the best part of her plan, she knew. She'd worked in the shop long enough to know that Ben left the back windows open at closing time for ventilation. The big machines were hot and the place didn't have air conditioning.

  Maddie kept in the shadows as she made her way to the back of the recreation area. There wasn't a light on anywhere, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't look out a window to gaze at the moon or something. She didn't want to take any chances. She'd come too far.

  She'd already decided the best way over the wall was the big maple tree and when she reached it, she quickly tossed the heavy end of her ace bandage over a branch of the tree and hoisted herself up. She scrambled up to the next limb and peered across the dark playground. Sure enough, the windows were open. Every one of them. To her amazement, so was the back door. Obviously, Ben wasn't expecting anyone to break into the shop. He was probably more worried about kids escaping than breaking in.

  Not believing her good luck, she hopped down from the wall, pulled the bandage down behind her, and tiptoed to the open door. Then it occurred to her. Maybe the door was still open because someone was inside.

  She peeked inside, then looked up at the loft. Sure enough, a dim glow could be seen through the glass panes surrounding the loft. Did Ben sleep up there, she wondered? Or was he working late? Or maybe the lights came from the computers; maybe he left them on all night.

  The problem was, she couldn't afford to take a chance. If he was up there, she'd have to junk her plan to take the boxcar. The sound would wake him for sure. Maddie stood in the doorway, wondering what she should do. She'd planned for so long and been so careful, and now her whole escape was jeopardized because of that stupid light!

  Well, she wasn't going to let a minor setback stop her. She'd just have to walk the tracks, she said to herself bravely. But she didn't have a light. The miner's cap was in her cave. She didn't know if she had the courage to walk through the tunnel in the dark. What if she got lost? She'd never walked that particular stretch of the tunnel before. What if she never found her cave again?

  Don't be ridiculous, she told herself. The tracks lead straight to the mine entrance. Follow the tracks, grab another miner's cap, and back track to the cave. How far could it be, anyway?

  Before she could talk herself out of it, Maddie made a quick dash across the shop floor to where the boxcar was waiting. It would've been so much easier if she could just hop in and press the lever that made it go. She'd seen Ben do it a few times. But she didn't have that luxury. She stood at the ugly yawning mouth of the mine, took a deep breath, and stepped into the darkness.

  It was worse than she remembered. She closed her eyes and couldn't tell the difference from when they were open. The tunnel was black and cold and smelled musty. She heard water trickling from hidden corners and something that sounded like the soft flapping of wings that terrified her more than the horrible groaning sound that rumbled beneath her. She was tempted to turn around and go back the way she'd come. But if she didn't do this now, she never would. Carefully placing one foot after the other on the metal track, Maddie trudged forward into the gathering cold and darkness.

  Even in the pitch black, she could tell when the tunnel veered off in another direction, plunging deep into the mountain. She resolutely stayed on the tracks, knowing that without them she'd never make it out alive. Still, each time she came to an opening on her left, she turned to face it, and reached out to feel for the door that marked her cave. Each time she did so, she cringed, because the air felt different over the entrances, colder, like the bottom had dropped out of them.

  She had no idea how far she'd come. She'd tried counting but kept losing count every time she stopped at a new sound. She'd tried humming, to keep herself brave, but that didn't last long either. Finally, she just plowed ahead, praying under her breath.

  Once again, the tunnel veered and this time, when Maddie turned to examine the entrance, she let out a small cry of relief. Her door! She'd made it to her cave!

  Unless there were other caves with doors on them, she thought, pushing the door gently ajar. What if something was in there? Fear gripped her as she stood on the threshold, listening in the dark. Finally, unable to stand it another second, she slipped off her knapsack and rummaged through the baggies until she found one of the wooden matches. She struck it against the rock floor and cupped her hand over the tiny flame, peering into the cave. Sure enough, off to the rear of the room, she made out the shape of the odious pit toilet. She'd done it! Now all she had to do was get to the stuff she'd stashed, get a light on, a fire going and she was in business. She'd never felt so proud of herself in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was still shaken when I settled down with my laptop and started perusing Ben's files. It wasn't as easy as it sounded, because I had to transfer the files from IBM to Mac
, something my Powerbook was capable of, but which took time. After the first few, I began to understand his filing system. The numbers apparently represented specific manufactured goods. The titles referred to everything else, from billing information to inventory. He even had the student work schedules listed. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for the order of his files, so I went to the file menu and asked it to sort the files by date.

  And there it was! May 25 was right there, up front, big as day. A delivery to someone called CTA was scheduled for ten p.m. So it wasn’t just a matter of the truck rolling in late, I thought.

  But a few other files came up for that date as well. One was fairly innocuous — a note to change Ben's dental appointment. I wondered where he went for it. Not Portsmith Grove! And surely Nurse Beckett didn't include tooth cleaning in her resumed The next entry caught my attention. It was just a meaningless number, but it had an asterisk in front of it and was dated May 25.

  Unlike the previous files which were primarily word-processing — or simple data base-generated, this one was comprised of fairly sophisticated technological renderings of shapes, labeled alphabetically like sewing patterns. I scanned down, wondering what the unidentifiable shapes represented. Obviously, they were the design for parts manufactured in the shop. And given the date of delivery, I had to assume they were what was picked up the night Annie Sisson disappeared. But the parts themselves were unrecognizable.

  Since there was nothing else on that date, I tried the dates just before or after, but didn't find anything illuminating. But that asterisk still intrigued me so I went to the find file and punched in an asterisk. I didn't have any idea if it would work, but I was rewarded with an immediate list of numbered files with asterisks in front of them. I clicked a few open, and found more patterns and labeled shapes. Again, they reminded me of sewing patterns, I thought. Or assembly packages without the instructions. With a little time and luck, I could probably figure out how the parts went together, but it would be easier with directions.

  I need a printer, I thought. I checked my watch. Afternoon classes were due to be over. There were printers in my classroom. I didn't know whether they'd be compatible with my PowerBook so I banked on the disk being compatible with the IBM in the room. If I hurried, I could at least print the file for the night Annie disappeared, and still have time to catch Maddie at the stables.

  Half-way to the classroom, I ran into Ida Evans. She was decked out in riding gear, complete with red cowboy boots, jeans and a denim shirt adorned with gold and red rhinestones. But despite the fancy get-up, she looked a little frazzled, I thought.

  "There you are! Where on earth have you been hiding yourself?" she asked.

  "I've been working on a lesson back at the cabin. I was just headed to my classroom to finish up."

  "Tsk, tsk," she uttered, shaking her head. "All work and no play. I understand you helped rescue poor little Belinda Pitt yesterday. Poor thing has a terrible fracture. I'm afraid she won't be riding horseback for some time now."

  "Is she back?"

  "They just pulled in a while ago. She's resting in the infirmary. As long as she's on the pain medication, Nurse Beckett will keep her there. We'd have sent her home, but her parents are somewhere in Europe and no one seems to know where to reach them. It's just as well, I suppose. From what I understand, she'll get better care here than she would with them. You have any idea how she fell?"

  Yeah, I thought. Someone cut her cinch. But I didn't share that with Ida. I shrugged. "Looked like the saddle slipped right out from under her. What I don't understand is why none of the other kids spotted her. She must've been off by herself." More likely off with someone else, I thought.

  "We tell them not to wander off by themselves. They know the rules. Some people just have to learn the hard way, I guess."

  And someone had helped Belinda learn this particular lesson. I looked at Ida closely, wondering if Doc or Ben had already talked to her about checking up on me. She seemed agitated.

  "Other than Belinda, everything going okay?" I asked.

  Ida's eyes narrowed for a second like she thought it was strange of me to ask. "Everything's just hunky dory," she said. "I'm just on my way out for an afternoon ride. Want to join me?"

  "Maybe I'll catch up with you later. I really want to work on this assignment idea while it's fresh in my mind."

  "All righty, then. But do take time out to enjoy yourself, Cassidy. A little fresh air every day does a body good."

  Off she strode, her red boots clicking on the pavement, her arms swinging out as she walked, whistling a tune from an old musical. It made me wonder if she'd forgotten to take her medication that morning.

  Once inside my classroom, I went straight for the computer. I wasn't familiar with the model, but in a few minutes I had it up and running, the old dot matrix printer grinding noisily away, happily spitting out a continuous stream of shapes and figures. I not only wanted a printout of what was delivered on May 25, but of every file with an asterisk next to it. While it worked, I tried to organize my thoughts. There was no doubt that Ben, Doc and Coach were all involved in the disappearance of Annie Sisson. The problem was, I couldn't prove it. Coach had gotten rid of her car. Had he also gotten rid of her? No, I thought. Whatever had happened to Annie had happened before Coach was involved. Ben had said as much and he wasn't happy that Doc had involved Coach at all. It would give Coach something else to hold over their heads, he said.

  And wasn't that interesting, I thought. What else was Coach holding over their heads? Is that why he got away with things no one else approved of? Like Isolation and the cattle prod? And what did Doc mean about sticking to the basics for a while? Ben said there was a shipment due in August and that he'd have to start soon. Start what? Something beyond the basics, obviously. Something they weren't supposed to be manufacturing in the shop.

  The printer beeped, causing me to jump about a foot. I tore off the last page and folded the considerable stack of papers, resisting the urge to go through them right then and there. I couldn't afford to have someone come in and find me with them. I ejected the disk, wondering where I could hide it. With Ben being suspicious of me, I didn't think my cabin was the best place. It had occurred to me that Ida had been looking for me and that perhaps Ben or Doc had instructed her to keep me busy for a while so that someone could check out my cabin. That would mean that Ida was in on it, too, which I didn't want to believe. But I knew if someone did search my cabin and found my PowerBook, they might be able to surmise from the files on my own hard drive that I was a private investigator. If they knew that, I was dead meat.

  I selected a book from the row of dictionaries on the book shelf and slipped the disk between two pages. In the morning, I'd think of a more permanent hiding place, but for now, the disk should be safe. Next, I pulled out my shirt tail and pressed the sheath of papers flat against my back, then tucked the shirt in, holding the papers in place. I'd grab a jacket from my cabin to better conceal the bulge before I headed for the stables. Finally, I turned off the computer and printer and headed for the door. To my utter dismay, a figure was standing in the doorway watching me. It was Coach.

  "Thought I might find you here," he said. "You trying to impress the brass by working on your day off?"

  "Just finishing up some lesson plans. What's up?"

  Coach had the silly cattle prod looped through a leather holster on his belt. I wanted to ask him if he slept with the thing, but didn't think now was the time to tick him off. I wondered how long he'd been standing there and what he'd seen.

  "Nothing's up," he said, like it was perfectly natural for him to be standing in my classroom doorway. He folded his arms, showing off his biceps. His pale blue eyes regarded me closely.

  “Well, it was nice of you to drop by,” I said, walking toward the door he was essentially blocking.

  "Now that's a brush-off if I ever heard one," he said, not budging.

  "I told Ida I'd meet her for a ride," I said.

/>   "Humph." He unfolded his arms and removed his ball cap, running his hand across his sandy crew cut. "Is it just me, or do you not like guys in general?" he asked.

  I thought about it. "Both," I said. So much for not ticking him off. But to my surprise, he laughed.

  "That's a good one. So you dig chicks, then?"

  "Coach, or whatever your name really is, I am not about to stand here trapped inside this classroom and discuss my love life with you."

  "You feel trapped? Hey, I'm sorry. I just came by to be friendly." He stepped a foot away from the doorway into the hall, raising his hands in the air to show how harmless he was.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "It's cool with me if you're a dyke," he said.

  "You're too kind," I said.

  "Damn, you're touchy. What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

  "I guess I'm not impressed with your behavior-mod methods. The cattle prod seems a bit excessive."

  "This thing?" He whipped out the prod like a gunslinger and twirled it in his right hand. "Shoot, Cassidy. This doesn't hardly hurt at all after a few seconds. It's just to get their attention. Keeps 'em in line. I don't even have to raise my voice with the kids."

  "How nice for you." I walked through the door and locked it behind me. Coach was standing a foot away and I could feel his jolly demeanor slowly giving way to anger. I knew I should cool it, but I didn't.

  "Tell me, Coach. Back in the days when you were just a student here, and no one had thought up Isolation or the behavior mod prod, how did they ever manage to turn kids around?"

  Coach seemed genuinely surprised that I knew he'd been a student at the camp. It took him a minute to recover. Then he started to chuckle. "I like that. Behavior Mod Prod. That's what I'll call it from now on. Long after you're gone, Cassidy James, I'll remember you for that. But to answer your question, I guess they got kids turned around okay. We just do it better now. And quicker."