“How?”
“You’ll run assignments.”
Raj sniffles slightly, “Like a Scout?”
“Mostly. Except you’ll be working for me, not the Rogues.”
“I thought you…” I start and Reid looks at me in that way he does, choking up the words that were so easy to say a moment ago. I’ve got his attention and suddenly, I’m unsure I want it.
“Were a Rogue? No,” he shakes his head with a wide, humorless grin, “not anymore. Alright,” he rubs his hands together, glancing from Pratt, to Vix, Clark, Sampson and then Raj. He wants to change the subject, and quick. “I think it’s time.”
“For?” Clark gripes from his corner.
“The stowaways to think on all they’ve heard… back at the Castle,” Reid casts a contemplative frown over me. Without breaking our stare, he speaks over his shoulder. “Pratt, go with them.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve finally made it out here,” I gesture to the exit, “and you want me to go back? After everything you’ve just told me?”
“What do you expect to do?” Reid motions to the same exit, “live in the jungle?”
“Yeah—if that’s what it takes.”
“So you’re going to leave everyone?” Reid raises a brow. “Just desert them back there?”
He’s waiting for me to argue but I don’t know what to say to that. Maybe he’s right. It’d be selfish to save ourselves when there’s a whole Castle of innocent people. It wouldn’t be right to abandon them, not to the unclear fate the Dofinikes have in store for us.
Nodding, I finally acquiesce. “I can figure out my way back.”
“Doubtful. Pratt,” he motions to Raj and I. She jumps to her feet, hanging between us and the little wooden door behind her.
“It’s incredible, really,” Sampson redirects my attention with his smooth, calming voice, “that you were able to navigate your way down here. With all the tunnels…”
“How many are there?”
“Oh…” he smiles rather mischievously, “there are several.”
“Like this one?” Raj glances about the wooden room. She’s stopped crying but peers around with swollen red glass spheres.
Sampson nods, “So it’s probably best to heed Reid’s suggestion and let Pratt assist you. Can get rather… confusing down here.”
I don’t want to give in—how hard can it be to find my way back?—but with Sampson’s urging and Reid’s unyielding stare, there’s nothing to be done. “Fine.”
“Remember,” he approaches, my chest drumming at his proximity, “not a word. Camp is our only advantage. If it gets out, we’ll have nothing. And I mean nothing. Not even food.” He’s looking for some sort of response, some sort of confirmation to know that this secret will still be safe tomorrow.
“Not a word,” I agree.
He nods, backing up, but before Pratt’s able to dart into the tunnel outside, Reid points at Raj. “And this thing with Walker stops now.”
She nods fervently, confirming his meaning completely. She casts a second’s glance my way before scrambling behind Pratt, who is already climbing out the door. I’m just behind them, casting one last look at the four but they’re already engaged in their own discussion.
I emerge into the black tunnel after the girls, Pratt leading us away as she holds her own Callix ahead of her. We walk in silence for a bit, Pratt repeatedly glancing at Raj, who keeps up only enough to not get left behind. A million questions buzz in my head, a million explanations needing to come out. But I ask none of them, carrying on in silence until Raj’s voice breaks the silence.
“I’m so sorry, Fallon.”
I don’t respond at first, listening instead to the sound of my slippers pounding the compact dirt. What am I supposed to say—it’s all right? Has she been reporting on me since the first day? And for what exactly? That’s still unclear. Without a response, she goes on.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Sure you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have accepted.” The words sting as I say them but with everything that’s happened tonight, it’s best that that’s all she’s getting from me.
“But it didn’t start out like this. I just wanted…” she struggles, looking for an explanation I could understand, “…to be in it rather than watch helplessly from the side. Wondering if it’d be me they took next…”
“Because of Marshall?” Pratt chimes in, veering us left.
Raj only nods. She might not owe Pratt anything but I decide it’s well within my right, so I ask. “Who’s Marshall?”
“He…” she takes a moment, “…he was the one who gave me the Callix. He…”
A long silent minute passes before Pratt asks, “When did you find out?”
“Right after they took him. We were supposed to meet at Leisure Time but he never showed. I saw him talking with a Scout earlier—he’d done it a hundred times before—but…”
“Do you know which Scout?” I’m not sure why but I want to know.
“One of the Kings. I don’t know who,” she shakes her head, “I would’ve suggested one of Rox’s… but I didn’t know much back then.”
“He would’ve helped you,” Pratt nods along, “any of the Rogues would’ve.”
“But again, what did I know? What do any of us know? It’s so hush, hush. You don’t know if you’re working for the good guys or the bad.”
“So what happened?” I ask.
“I guess he ran too many errands for them. He first started bringing me Gupples. Then Rublies and then other kinds of food. Fresh, bizarre kinds,” she stops to think about it, “and then the Callix… but too many people caught on and he became invaluable. They wouldn’t trust him and then, he already knew too much.”
“Did he ever tell you what he was doing?” I ask.
“No, that was the one rule. Never ask. Sure I noticed the disappearances but how could I bring it up when he’s bringing me Gupples every day?” She sniffles, “It’s too late now.”
“And you figured the Kisses could help you?”
“I figured it was a shield. They’d get the assignments and then Perry would just tell me what to do. I’d get food regularly, the kind of food I’d grown used to, and I wouldn’t be on the outside anymore.”
“And me…”
“You were my shot. The newest arrival I could practice on. If you were doing anything—meeting with a Scout, with anyone important—I had to let them know first. If I didn’t and they found out through somebody else, I’d be out.”
“So the Clans never sent you?”
“No, Perry did. As a trial,” she sniffles again, “I’m so sorry, Fallon.”
Again, what’s there to say? There’s still so much I want to know. So much to be answered. I offer her a slight shrug.
“Well, you’re working for Reid now,” I offer as the shining light to a storm I still don’t fully understand. But then I turn to Pratt with a suddenly burning question. “Why isn’t he with the Rogues anymore?”
“His choice. Tucker won’t stop trying to get him back in but…” and at this she tosses a glance in Raj’s direction, who mirrors the same uneasy frown, before returning it to me, “…something happened. A long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
I take it as the final word on the matter and we move along in silence again. A few minutes pass before Raj’s fragile voice breaks through again, “So, what’s going to happen now?”
“With what?”
“All this. What the Dofinikes are planning.”
“Is there much we can do?” I trudge on, deeper into the tunnel’s black mouth, “except push when they give us an inch.”
“How?” Raj and Pratt both ask at once.
When I figure it out, I’ll let them know.
Chapter Nine: Challenge
“A few Gupples, some Marowines,” Pratt places an odd assortment of fruit on my food dispenser, returning to hand me a strand of tiny red beads, “and this one’s a Rublie. Reid th
ought you might like it. Here.”
Every night, Pratt has been stopping by long after Leisure Time and dropping off a few pieces of food. She never stays more than a couple minutes, just long enough to deliver the gatherings for the night and comment on at least one menu choice, always careful to make note that Reid selected it or Reid found it or Reid thought I might like it, as if I might forget who he was.
“Go on, try it,” she insists, watching as I bring the food to my nose to investigate. “They’re high on demand in the Market.”
Biting into the red bead, the flavor sings on my tongue. Mostly sweet but a pinch of tartness makes it a delectable combination and just the right amount in that one serving. This is… delicious.
“Wonderful,” I say before diving into the next bead, mentally declaring this my new favorite food.
“I know...” Pratt grins coyly. “That’s why Reid wanted you to have it.”
Warmth spreads through me, igniting the small fireball inside. “Tell him…uh… thank you, for me. Will you?”
“Definitely!” she jumps for the door, excited to deliver the message when I call her name. “Yeah?”
“Um…” I gulp, trying to remain as impassive as possible. But every day he stays away, making it hard to thank him myself. “I’ve tried talking to him, you know, at like, Leisure Time and he never…”
“He’s busy,” Pratt cuts me off, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. And then, as if knowing I expect a bit more of a reason, “There’ve been more Snatchings lately. Rogues need his help stopping them.”
“Tell me about them,” I request, sitting on my bed and tucking my arms around my knees, “please.”
“Which?”
“Either. Both,” I shrug, hoping she’ll just tell me everything she knows.
“Well, can’t say much about the Rogues—Reid’ll kill me. But the Snatchings…”
“Yeah?”
She looks to me, her heavy eyes filled with fear. “They’re happening more than you think.”
“When?”
“All the time,” she exhales, the weight of her words in her tone, “sometimes at Rebuilding, but mostly during Leisure Time. Sometimes the common hours.”
“How?” I tuck my knees closer to my chest.
“Clients mostly. Every once in a while a Kiss,” she shrugs, “no one’s really sure. We find out after they go missing.”
“So, just so I understand… the Dofinikes take anyone who tries to escape?”
Pratt nods.
“And the Kings also ‘Snatch’ people?”
Again, Pratt nods.
“Why?”
“Who knows? But they’re doing it for the Dofinikes—I can tell you that much. And the Rogues are trying to stop it…” Pratt’s face turns down, a solemn expression suggesting personal involvement. She needs a new topic.
“And you guys gather every night?” I ask, even though she’s told me this countless times.
“Yup.”
“And you’re sure he won’t let me come with you? To help bring food back? It’ll be like I’m paying off my own.”
“No. He says he doesn’t want you to come,” she cringes at the sound of her words, spinning for the door. “Anyway, I got to go. I’ll tell him you say thanks.”
Once she’s gone, I glance at the collection of fruit on the dispenser. I’ve been well-fed for a couple of days but I still don’t understand. If I’m forbidden to gather with them at night, why even bother supplying me at all? Is it to buy my silence or to keep me from going out there alone?
And why has Reid been avoiding me, yet sends Pratt to bring me mention of his name every night? Or is that just her doing? There are too many things to sort out, but with the pace this is going, I’ll never know. Launching myself back onto the pile of rags, I give way, losing myself to the slumber that my ticking brain so desperately needs.
***
Got to keep busy.
Keep busy or Tetlak will drift by.
He’s been known to do that. Stalk those who seem less than enthused at a day of Rebuilding. Take a break for more than ten minutes and he’s in your face, grunting and signaling to the job. He won’t speak English, although I’m told to believe he does, but instead, gestures to the trenches, Gollop or Transport with his wooden staff.
He won’t physically force you, but looming over eight feet, with that weapon in hand and, to be honest, that crazed look in his eye—like he’s looking for an excuse to do it—no one wants to tempt him. You can see it. The way he challenges you. He wants to do more than intimidate. He wants to make an example of someone. He’s aching for it. He just needs that one strike of rebellion. And no one wants to be it.
It’s a good day though. Tetlak’s not really patrolling my end of the trench so I relax a little on the digging. I toss the Senz into the bucket and climb out, my shoulders loosening from their monotonous overuse. With a studying scan, I understand why everyone here is in the shape they’re in. All tight, muscular bodies. But with the way the nights heat up, you’d think there’d be a dozen pregnant bellies.
But I haven’t seen a single one.
If the Dofinikes are so eager for us to reproduce , where are all the pregnancies? And what about the babies? And the toddlers and kids? Why doesn’t—
Something flutters past.
Black wings and flapping furiously, it’s gone. It was here but then disappeared, appearing solely to vanish a moment later. It was just a bug, most likely. Another strange creature of Harrizel wildlife venturing beyond the lush, damp jungle.
That’s all.
Heading for the Water Pole, I pass the Gollops on my right. Reid’s busy lifting and lowering the giant silver dome, Blondie and his two friends manning the other three corners of the Gollop with him. Blondie gestures to his partner. The two focus back on Reid, waiting for an answer but he seems lost in thought. Suddenly Blondie glances my way—directly my way—and pauses.
My heart skips a beat.
He cracks an amused smile and continues talking. A second later, Reid looks up, his eyes flying to mine. It’s the first time he’s actually acknowledged me since the other night and the stare sets me ablaze.
“Excuse me,” Erglioff’s thunderous voice booms overhead. The Gollops stop vibrating and the clup-clup of the digging halts as we all look up, toward the black stone walls of the Castle, where the voice projects. “I’m sure there’s a more civilized way to do this but as the news is already circulating, I believe you’re owed the truth. For over a week, we worked diligently, doing all we could to save her but… sadly, it was not enough. I’m sorry to inform you that one of your own—Hinson—has passed on.”
Whispers erupt all around, quick words exchanged in low tones.
“An unfortunate discovery in what had started as mere curiosity and a serious case of poor judgment,” Ergiloff continues, “we thought we could help, if not save her, but in the end, the toxic berry juice stopped her heart and there was nothing to be done.” His voice grows stronger now, with a tinge of threat. “Do not venture away. It is dangerous outside this gate, and in the jungle, it is deadly. Stay at the Castle—you’re safe here with us. And remember what’s most important for the human race.”
We all watch, standing silent and still, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen next. This is the first time they’ve admitted to any sort of human casualty, at least since I’ve been here. People go missing all the time and there’s no mention of that. Still, it’s the first time any attention has been brought to losing one of our own. How are we to respond as a species trying to rebuild itself?
Ergiloff answers with a simple reminder. “You may carry on with the Rebuilding.”
Is that it, then? With Tetlak scanning the lines for rebellion, I continue forward, hating myself for being so willingly obedient. First it’s Hinson, but who will be next? Raj? Pratt? How many more will come running out of the Castle, screaming for help? I’ve already decided not to abandon them. I made it to the jungle and return
ed. And now—right now—I feel like pushing back. This is their inch, their way of testing us and up until now, no one’s countered. No one’s pushed back.
Someone’s got to be the first.
I remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s logical. I just want to grieve a friend’s death in peace. Surely that’s a cross-cultural thing—can they stop me for it? With my heart pounding, I reset my course and head for the Castle.
People notice immediately. They stop working and watch as I head for the Castle, out and in the obvious open. I hear a shift of movement behind me as a chorus of whispers erupts. I’m the first to leave the digging lines without being dismissed. It’s only a matter of seconds before Tetlak launches himself at me, waving his staff like a caveman and gesturing me back to my place. But what will he do if I don’t go? They just announced the death of the member of a dying species. Is he bold enough to kill another? I don’t have time to wonder.
A giant force flashes ahead. It knocks me off balance for only a minute but I steady myself, registering what I expected. Tetlak, confusion and disbelief bubbling in his yellow reptilian eyes, points his staff in the usual direction of the trenches.
Here’s where it gets tricky.
Normally, when Tetlak finally acknowledges you, he’ll gesture toward the lines, expecting his presence to be the final warning and at this point, everyone submits and returns. No one has ever attempted to reason or argue or refuse—no one has even tried. But this is the first time they’ve admitted a human death.
He continues motioning toward the lines as I follow his stare, glancing over my shoulder at the awed eyes of the flabbergasted behind me. They all want to know the same thing—will I be the first to try something new? Or will I just be another curious soul, looking to test my own limits and fears? Tetlak snarls in a warning pitch and I look back, his yellow eyes narrowing to slits as steam pours through his whiskers.
“I’m going to collect some of Hinson’s things,” I keep my feet planted. “I want to give her a burial.”
Escape from Harrizel Page 11
