Escape from Harrizel

by C. G. Coppola

  The bile tries to ambush my throat but I suppress it again, watching the last few strands drag to the end of the ivy shield and out of view. The leaves continue to scrape and crunch but grow dimmer with the distance and after a moment, disappear into the ruins completely.

  My eyes flash to Raj’s captor. He’s panicked and glancing from Reid to Pratt to the two on my left. After a moment, he offers just the slightest of headshakes. Readjusting his lock on Raj, he strengthens his hand on her mouth and looks to Reid for help.

  I can feel his head move. Mostly up and down but a quick jerk creeps in every few seconds. I give up reading the other boy’s face—he’s mostly receiving orders, not giving them—and find Raj’s, willing her to open her eyes. I need my little buddy. I need her here with me, conscious, able to remember and confirm everything that happens here tonight. And then by coincidence—or is it magic, again?—her eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately. As I attempt to communicate, a soothing voice breaks the rigid night air with a gentle whisper.

  “I think it’s best we pop in for a quick rest.”

  “Eyes?” Reid asks.

  “Open,” the man replies, as it if were a silly question to want answered.

  “But how can we trust them?” Raj’s captor hisses. He scans us both, unconvinced. “They might be spies.”

  “Don’t be impolite, Clark,” the man corrects him. “You were them once.”

  “Besides,” an unfamiliar female voice interjects, “they’re not spies… just nosy. We’ll take them back for a quick chat and be done. No harm.”

  “Always harm,” Clark grumbles, disappointed at his defeat.

  I’m lifted, Reid’s arm locked tightly across my stomach, cradling my ribs like a safety strap. He’s strong, deceptively so. Raj is on her feet across from me, just behind Pratt. We’re turned and I finally catch a glimpse of our other two guests before they slink through the trees ahead.

  The woman—in her late thirties—offers us a quick, slightly uninterested glance but the man takes a minute to consider us both. He smiles at Raj, greeting an acquaintance and then stops, taking an interest in me. His smile fades, if only slightly, but is replaced with curiosity. Intrigue. A sense of possibility perhaps? Before I’m able to fully accept the compliment, he dashes into the trees, the woman right behind him. Clark and Raj dart off after them as I feel my own body forced forward.

  Reid’s jaw brushes my brow. “It’s not far.”

  He leads me a few yards to a small clearing where another large tree sits surrounded in a garden of pink and blue tear-dropped flowers. The tree must be old, her belly spilling forward and her rich, plentiful branches extending to her sister trees around her.

  Pratt’s gone, along with the man and woman. Clark’s next, lowering Raj into a similar hidden opening at the base of the trunk. He scrambles in behind her as Reid and I approach. I jump down, Reid right behind me, snapping the trunk firmly into place once he’s inside.

  And then it’s dark.

  I can just make out the shape of the boy ahead, Raj in front of him, feeling her way through the hollow, wooden tunnel. A dim light glows down a ways. Reid goes to secure me again, instinct kicking in, but at the last second his hands drop, flattening to his side.

  “Quickly,” the man ushers.

  We move to a run, called by the promise of light and slipping through another narrow opening, one by one, we each emerge into a wooden hovel, ten times the size of my bunker. It’s roomy and welcoming with benches lining the space, carved directly from the burrow’s wooden walls.

  The woman selects a seat, elbows on knees and her head dipping below her shoulders. Clark sits across from her and Pratt, just down from him. Raj stands, shaking in the center, her eyes lost on an image as Reid sweeps by, hooking toward the right. The man closes the door behind him and immediately, specifically turns to me.

  “You took the tunnel,” he states. “From where?”

  “The Auditorium,” I want to chance a glance at Pratt but decide against it. “We found the door in the wall.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “No.”

  “And did you go anywhere else?” he approaches with a step. “Do anything else?”

  “We were by the ruins. Not more than a few seconds.”

  “And you’re sure no one saw you?” the woman asks. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going. You didn’t tell them about the tunnel?”

  “We didn’t know about it. We just found it tonight.”

  “You followed us,” Reid folds his arms, glancing at Pratt. “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I admit, turning back to the older man, “I followed you. But I was hoping it would lead to the ruins and it did—that’s all.”

  “Why do you want to get there so bad?” Reid narrows his eyes.

  I keep my focus on the older man. Somehow, I know he’s the one to hear this. “It feels familiar.”

  “What?” Clark laughs, filling the wooden room with his echo. “Did you say familiar?”

  I wait for the others to start chuckling but nobody does. If anything, I’ve grabbed their attention. Raj, Pratt and the woman perk up, interested in the response. The man, swiftly gliding toward me asks with genuine curiosity, “What exactly is familiar?”

  Everything.

  I want to tell him I can anticipate the direction of cobblestones in the grass; that I can predict their hidden, meandering paths, if prediction is even the right word. It’s not really predicting when you know something. But how to explain this? How to explain that the flow of each wall is as familiar as the contours of my own body—an instrument, during even the darkest and cloudiest hours, I will always, instinctively recognize. They’d think I was a freak if I said that.

  “It just feels that way.”

  “Fallon, did you say your name was?” the man’s voice is calmer, less distraught.

  “I didn’t… but yes.”

  “I did wish to meet you under more pleasant circumstances. Tonight, unfortunately,” he glances to the others, “will have to do. I’m Sampson.”

  He slips his hand over mine as I try to suppress the squeeze of his calloused palms and fingertips. He’s got kind eyes. I notice that right away. Light blue, like a robin’s egg. I can’t quite tell his age. He seems too young for his body so maybe that’s why his hair hasn’t figured out if it wants to be white or gray yet. He’s tall like Reid, maybe taller and, taking a step back, reveals the rest of the group before me.

  “This is Vix, Clark, Pratt and Reid. And of course, you know Raj.”

  “And how do you know me?”

  “Come now, Fallon,” he offers a playful grin, “you must know by now that there are no secrets on Harrizel.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Clark mumbles to himself in the corner.

  “But truth be told,” Sampson goes on, “I was alerted to your arrival.”

  “By Raj, no doubt…” Clark mumbles again.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she explodes with four very angry steps.

  “Can we have quiet?” Vix asks, “Please. Tonight,” she’s talking to me now, “you said tonight was the first time you used the tunnel?”

  I nod.

  “So you’ve never been here before? You’ve never seen anything like that?”

  “No,” I shake my head, turning back to Sampson. “No, what was that?”

  “Again,” he chuckles to himself with anything but humor, “what a night to make friends. I’m sorry to inform you, Fallon,” he looks up at me with saddened, apologetic eyes, “but your fantasy here on Harrizel might not be all you’d hoped. But then,” he considers me more thoroughly, “you already suspected.”

  “Of course she did,” Reid passes as he saunters about the room, arms folded across his chest.

  “What fantasy? Just tell me—what is going on?”

  “I’m further sorry to say…” Sampson exhales, pacing again, “that we don’t have many answers for you.”

  “So you
guys don’t know either.”

  “We’re working on it,” Clark gripes, “but if we didn’t have to worry about you two,” he makes a face at Raj, “we could’ve followed them and found out.”

  “Sorry for the inconvenience,” I glance from him to Sampson, a bit of pleading in my eyes. “But really? Nothing?”

  “Not nothing,” Reid shifts closer. He takes a breath, his heavy brown eyes flickering between mine, registering their level of trust. My heart stops for a second, caught in their power. “We have someone on the inside.”

  “Reid,” Vix projects.

  Sampson draws a finger in the air, motioning for silence. Reid continues, encouraged by the support. “Our information is extremely limited. Inexistent, almost…. but,” he glances from Sampson to Clark, Vix and Pratt and finally back to me, “they’re planning something. Something big.”

  “Duh.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “Look—they’re doing something. Beshib used to make daily Lectures. Now they’re weekly. He’s leaving the Castle all the time and the guards are constantly upstairs with the scientists. And then incidents like Hinson the other day,” and then, as if remembering suddenly, “and tonight.”

  The image of her cold, blue body flashes, the familiar bile threatening to rise with the memory of those dead eyes staring off into nothing.

  “Well what can we do?” I glance around the room, waiting to hear their plan, their solution to all this. But I see only flat faces and sideways glances, except for Reid, who’s caught me straight in the eye. But there’s nothing there, only questions. Unable to suppress a scoff, I try, “There’s got to be something, right?”

  “Keep putting the clues together,” he shrugs, “like we’ve been.”

  “That’s it?”

  “You think you got something better?” Clark flies to his feet. “We’ve been here a lot longer and…”

  “…Maybe now you’ll start getting some results, I agree.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you know exactly what it means. Sampson,” I turn to him as Clark storms over in a fit, murderous fists clenched at his thighs. Reid jets forward but Sampson flies between us the next second, arms extending to keep us apart.

  “We need everyone’s help,” he looks between us, “the only way we’ll discover the truth is to trust each other and to work together—collaboratively.”

  I see what Raj means about him being a mediator. He looks at Clark as if to say, listen to me or you’re out and with a loud sigh, Clark obeys, dramatically spinning and planting himself on the carved wooden bench again. He flings his arms within each other and slouches to a pout.

  Sampson turns to me. “Fallon, we would appreciate any assistance you might offer. Now tell me, how did you find your way exactly? You were in darkness, yes?”

  I motion to Raj. “She has a Callix.”

  Sampson’s blue eyes light up at the word, a stirring growing within. “I see.”

  “We also followed yours,” I motion to the blossom lying across Pratt’s lap. She’s been silent this whole time and I’d almost forgotten she was here. “And you?” I ask, returning my focus to Sampson. “How’d you know this was here? Or how to get here?”

  Everyone looks to each other. Who’s going to be the one to inform me? And inform me of what, exactly?

  “You can’t tell anyone. I’m serious,” Reid inches closer and for a fleeting moment, my heart stops. The fiery roots in my abdomen enflame again, scorching my organs with a raw, unfamiliar ache. “This is our only advantage. If it gets out, we’ll have nothing.”

  “But…” I blink, still trying to understand, “why go back at all? Why not just stay out here?”

  “We can’t,” Sampson shakes his head, “we have friends inside, friends we want to help, friends we need to take care of. Otherwise you’re right. We would have escaped long ago.”

  Suddenly I understand Reid’s short tone with me earlier. It sparks a seed of guilt. “Does anyone else know?”

  “No one. It’s just us.”

  “And about tonight, with Hinson?”

  “That…” Clark explains, a pompous tone to his voice,“…is something entirely different. Maybe they don’t know what’s happening but people know about the Snatchings.”

  “You mean when the Dofinikes take you for leaving through the gate?”

  “That’s one way. Then you’ve got the Kings to worry about—they snatch you up and you’re gone for good. Multiple ways to disappear here on Harrizel…” he sighs, “anyway, we’ll all probably be ratted on by dawn knowing what she is.” He sneers at Raj, new detest growing in his dull brown eyes.

  “Manners, Clark,” Sampson corrects.

  “What?” he jumps from the wall again. “It’s the truth!”

  Reid’s words come flying back for the second time tonight, Raj’s tailing her. What does that mean? If she’s not working with a Scout and that Callix was a gift from her boyfriend like she said, then what? What is she?

  “I…” Raj starts, all eyes on her.

  “Tell her,” Reid orders, in a casual way that seems natural to him.

  It takes Raj a moment to gather her words. After one minute that felt like ten, she exhales softly, her eyes on her blue slippers which pinch together at the toes. She speaks with quiet, nearly inaudible words, so soft they could break at the weight. “You were my first assignment.”

  “What?”

  “She’s a Kiss,” Reid flinches at the word, circling Raj whose head hangs between her shoulders, “not part of either Clan, they’re their own system.”

  “To do what?”

  “Gather important information.”

  “How is that different from working with a Scout?”

  “For one thing, it takes the danger out,” Reid slows, circling, locking eyes with me, “it’s dangerous to be a Client. People see you talking to the Scouts, they know you’re working for the Clans… know you might be willing to sell them out. Sell out enough people,” he shrugs slightly, “not looking so good.”

  “And the Kisses?”

  “Work directly with the Clans,” Clark jumps in, his glaring eyes still set on Raj. “They’re anonymous, unlike the Scouts. Need to find out something really important? No need to send a Scout and rely on a poor Client when someone cuts through all that.”

  “So…” I think of the word best to describe it, “the elite?”

  “Exactly,” Clark gripes. “And the Clans aren’t going to ship off their gold in any old plastic container. They want that shit air tight and locked. Wouldn’t want to ‘chance the mission.’”

  Reid shoots him a look.

  “So the Kisses risk nothing?” I ask.

  “Pride,” Clark mumbles somewhere in the background.

  “And knowledge,” Reid is circling Raj again. “See, Clients aren’t sure who they’re buying from—the Rogues or the Kings, it makes no difference—just that they get the token they want. A Kiss knows where her payments are coming from,” he slows, centering in on Raj’s face. He’s trying to get her to look him in the eye but her head remains down, her sights plastered below. “And I know the Rogues haven’t bothered with any of you for a while. Which only means…”

  “I’m a Kiss,” Raj cries, her eyes tearing at the confession, “but I don’t know anything about the Snatchings—I swear!”

  “Sure,” Clark nods along, “and I’m here on vacation.”

  “What’s in it for you?” Reid stops, studying her face. He’s trying to read it, whatever it is lurking behind those glassy eyes, whatever is making the fear tick. He only needs to hear her say it.

  “Immunity,” it comes out a whisper.

  “From?”

  “Everything,” she gazes up at him, her nose swelling red, “and everyone.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “But… but…”

  “They’re using you like they do everyone,” Reid meanders back to my
side, “once you’re no longer of value…”

  “So I have to stay valuable,” she steps toward us, tears streaming freely now, “they took him, they took Marshall. I can’t go like him…”

  So much has been said, so much revealed in only the last few minutes. I want to review it all immediately, running over the last exchanges to make sure nothing’s slipped by. To make sure I haven’t missed anything. But I can do all of that tomorrow, play rewind when there’s time to do it, time to dive back into this scene and replay it until I know each question and comment by heart. But now, before all that, I need one thing answered.

  “Were you setting me up to be snatched?”

  She lifts her face, wiping her wet nose and shaking her head. “No.”

  A long moment passes before anyone speaks again. It’s Reid and he’s changed his tone. It’s inquisitive now, less accusing. “What was your assignment?”

  Raj inhales deeply, stifling her cry, which tries to burst up in little bubbled whimpers, “I’m-I’m to find out whatever I can about Fallon and report back to Perry. As a training exercise… t-to make sure I can handle it. They never asked for anything specific, just that they know anything of importance.”

  “And?” Reid urges. “Anything else?”

  Holding her breath briefly, Raj goes on. “I… Perry told me I’m now supposed to push Walker on her. But I don’t know why! That’s all I know—I promise!”

  Reid’s face hardens at the comment, the room silencing as Raj’s last word dies out. With his chin in his hand, he nods, as if reassuring himself of a difficult decision. “Alright, here’s what’s happening. You’re working for me now.”

  “What?” her head snaps up.

  “You’ll act like you’re still working for Perry…” he circles again, stroking his chin and working out the plan as he goes along, “…tell her all the little gossip she wants to hear. Make up stuff—nothing important,” he points, Raj tensing at the abrupt command. Slowly, he resumes his circling, “But whatever gets her off your back. Make her know you’re working for her… but work for me instead.”