Celia laughed out loud. She was going to get out.
Using the heels of her hands she nudged the plate a fraction of an inch at a time until she opened a foot-wide crack. With the sun pouring in, she squeezed her head out and looked around.
The wall of her city loomed, the bottom obscured by tall weeds. Celia looked in the opposite direction. As far as she could see, there was nothing but wilderness—towering trees, rolling hills, rocks, weeds. There was no stream or river like she and Janine had imagined.
Celia hoisted herself out of the hole and collapsed onto her stomach in the weeds, exhausted, dripping wet. She was outside. The outside of the wall was right there, rising on her right. Unbelievable.
When she finally mustered the strength to stand, she got dressed, then turned in a complete circle, scanning the landscape. Which way? She headed downhill, around the edge of the wall to find the gate. There must be a road there.
The world was out there somewhere. Chicago, London, Rio. She needed to find it, and locate Max, who’d know better than her how to get the Detrium.
As she walked along, legs still shaky from her exertion, she thought of Max, pictured his weathered skin, those serene eyes that always made Celia feel that all would be well. Was he close? For Janine’s sake, she hoped he was. Audiences came and watched them break records, then turned around and went home, so it couldn’t be far to civilization.
Before long Celia spotted the gate, and a path with a powder blue rubberized surface that snaked off into the forest.
As Celia approached the first copse of trees, the size of them blew her away. They were huge. Redwoods? Except most had brownish-gray bark, not red. A few had pine needles, but most had leaves. She tried to wrap her arms around one; it would take three of her, linking hands, to circle the thing. Still hugging the tree, she looked up at how the trunk shot straight toward the sky, its branches easily a hundred feet up. It made her dizzy, but in a good way—a wonderful way. She rested her chin on the rough bark and soaked in the feeling. She was free. She felt a twinge of guilt for feeling happy when Janine was lying in that joke of a hospital, but her exhilaration would give her energy. It would keep her moving.
She followed the road into the forest, feeling light enough to be cast into the air on the soft breeze.
#
The silence was beautiful, but unnerving. When the leaves weren’t shushing in the wind, the only sound was the pat of Celia’s shoes on the rubber walk. She broke through dense forest to a rocky clearing overlooking the rolling valley below, and stopped short.
A towering, circular wall sat at the far end of the valley. For an instant Celia thought she’d walked in a circle and ended up back home, because it looked exactly like the wall surrounding Record Village. Except Record Village wasn’t set in a valley. This was some other place.
It was almost too much to take in. What was in there? Another Record Village? A way station for the people who brought them food and supplies? She’d never know, because she wasn’t going anywhere near it. She had to stay focused on her goal. Civilization. Max. Medicine.
She must be going in the wrong direction. Surely the audience didn’t walk this rubber trail for miles just to see a performance.
The audience. If she could blend in with the audience when they left Record Village, they’d lead her right to civilization. There was an event tomorrow—Sondra Gee would try to break the jumping jacks record, plus there was running a mile on all fours, and catching grapes in mouth.
And Celia was going to miss it all. What a shame. Out here in the wild, with Janine’s life on the line, the idea of a grown woman trying to break the record for catching the most grapes in her mouth in one minute seemed beyond absurd.
Celia studied the sun, sitting low in the sky above rolling hills. She was probably better off making the trek back in the morning. Spending the night in the dark forest didn’t appeal to her, so she settled down right there in the clearing overlooking the valley.
As stars began to appear, and the quarter moon rose higher in the sky, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. The darker it grew, the less she felt seventeen and invincible, and the more she felt seven and wanted Janine to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Then she remembered her phone, still sealed in the plastic bag. She had her movies and books. She was too tired to read, but a movie—the sight of other people, the sound of their voices—was just what she needed. She scrolled down her master list, pausing on her favorites, which were highlighted in green. She loved movies about everyday people living in the real world, whether it was the modern world of cell phones and the Internet, or a time before cars or airplanes. She stopped when she got to Clarise.
If Clarise hadn’t been just a character in a movie, Celia could definitely see herself being friends with her. Watching her confidently handle being pregnant at sixteen was just what Celia needed right now. Not that Celia could relate specifically to fears of getting pregnant. No one in Record Village got pregnant. Kids just appeared one morning for their first day of school, and were given a bunk assignment along with their locker combination. Another of those mysteries you didn’t talk about.
As Clarise sat in a convenience store bathroom taking a pregnancy test, Celia realized why she was so drawn to her: Clarise had no problem defying people’s expectations, if their expectations seemed dumb to her. Celia believed strongly in that sentiment.
By the time the credits rolled, Celia felt at peace and ready for sleep. For the first time since Janine had collapsed, it seemed at least possible that everything was going to be okay.
Chapter 7
She was expecting buses, but the audience came on foot, out of the woods and up the hill toward Record Village, their conversation and occasional laughter drifting to Celia’s hiding place behind an outcropping of rocky hills. A town or city must be awfully close if they could walk. Unless they were coming from a train or bus station. Some wore crisp suits or dresses, others wore designer jeans, and clutched Gucci purses. They were so stylish, so worldly. Light-years from the residents of Record Village.
Celia spotted the tall Indian guy who had smiled at her walking alone along the edge of the blue path, a backpack slung across one shoulder, his shoulder-length hair whipping in the breeze. He turned and walked backward for a moment, his neck craned, studying the treetops. She was hoping no one would recognize her if she put the hood of her jacket up and kept her head down, but she should avoid getting too close to her biggest fan.
She smiled at her own joke. It felt good to smile. As far as she knew, she’d accomplished what no one else ever had. Hopefully by tonight she’d be in Max’s living room, the Detrium in hand.
When the last of the audience disappeared through the door, Celia jogged toward the forest. Her plan was to hide behind a tree and slip into line behind the last person when they left.
#
Voices rose in the distance. Celia had been resting against a tree; now she stood and waited up against the tree like a knife-thrower’s target as the audience filed past. When she thought the last of the crowd had passed, she ventured a peek.
Three figures disappeared up the road, one of them carrying a flashlight. Two more passed a few seconds later. Celia watched, waiting as two final stragglers went by.
She counted to ten and, heart racing, ducked onto the road. The figures went on walking and talking. They hadn’t noticed Celia.
Celia slowly, slowly, closed the distance between her and the two figures until she was about ten paces behind.
“I should get an incentive just for sitting next to him,” she heard one of the women say.
“You hear him the other night?” the other answered, glancing over her shoulder. “We should all get—” She spotted Celia and stopped talking.
Celia dropped her head and tried to appear lost in thought.
The woman went on, her voice lower.
Exhaling, Celia relaxed. After a while she picked up her pace, passed
the women and a few others, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets.
They’d walked at least five miles when the people ahead of Celia abruptly veered off the path and headed down concrete steps. At the bottom, she followed everyone through a set of double doors. Above the doors, a towering wall disappeared into the darkness. The sight gave Celia a sick jolt. Another walled town. Were there other towns, with other performances? Surely they weren’t going to some other performance so late. Celia turned around. She’d make her way back out the gates and run.
The gates squealed closed.
She had no choice but to follow the audience down a grimy, dimly-lit hallway that opened into a narrow, high-ceilinged room. The walls were lined with cots stacked floor-to-ceiling. People headed for the cots, waiting in line to climb ladders that led to the ones higher up.
What the hell was going on? Maybe this wasn’t a one-day trip? Maybe the audience stayed here overnight and went home in the morning? But Celia needed to get to civilization now.
Celia headed for an empty cot in a corner of the room. Springs squealed as she perched on the edge, her hood pulled low over her face.
A pair of shins and black hiking boots stopped in front of Celia. “Hey,” a woman’s voice said.
Celia sprung from the cot. “Is this yours? I’m sorry.”
The woman pulled Celia’s head back before Celia could react. Her young, freckled face came into view, framed by the edges of the hood. Celia watched the woman’s expression change from a confused scowl to wide-eyed wonder. “You’re the one who fell down the steps.”
Celia grasped her hand. “Please, don’t say anything—”
The woman turned to the person in the next cot. “Buzz, Look at this. It’s a performer.”
A rough hand yanked her hood off. “Whoa.” A big guy with a red face gawked at her. He grasped her elbow. “They’ll think we snuck her in. We have to get rid of her, right away.”
Celia yanked her arm free. “Come on, help me out here. You have no idea what I went through to get here.” She looked around for somewhere to run, but nothing looked promising.
“I’m telling you, we need to get rid of her,” Buzz said.
Someone pushed into the small mob—someone tall, with long black hair. Celia recognized him immediately. The Indian guy. Her biggest fan.
His dark eyes widened. “You!”
Celia pushed close to him. “Help me. Please.”
He swallowed, nodded.
“I’ll get the bags.” Buzz turned.
“No!” The Indian guy grabbed his sleeve.
“What do you care, Anand? Go back to your bunk and draw some more pictures.”
Covering his mouth with his palm, Anand looked around, then back at Celia. “Stay right here.” He pointed at the cot.
Celia gave him a look. “Where would I go?”
Anand turned to Buzz and freckle-face. “I’m going to get Minnie.”
This froze them in their tracks, and Celia was left to wonder who the heck Minnie was. These people seemed to know each other well—too well to be a bunch of random ticket-buyers. What was this place? It seemed way too shabby to be a hotel, especially for people as well-dressed and groomed as these. In movies, people in expensive clothes stayed in four-star hotels with valets in white suits to park their Mercedes, and bellhops to carry their bags to private rooms. This place looked more like a prison block. But that didn’t make sense; people in prison didn’t wear nice clothes, and didn’t get to go to performances.
By the time Anand returned with a black woman who didn’t even come up to Celia’s shoulder, a dozen people were crowded around, gawking at Celia.
Minnie pushed her way through the circle and looked up at Celia. “What did you do, chew your way out of Record Village?”
The onlookers laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
“Close. I swam. Through a water pipe.” That got a big laugh as well.
Minnie gave her a tight smile. “Seriously, how did you do it?”
“I am serious. I swam under the wall.” Celia didn’t see how telling the truth could hurt her, given the situation. She needed to win these people over.
Minnie put her hands on her hips. “How did you know there’d be a way up on the other side?”
Celia shrugged. “I didn’t.”
Anand sidled closer to Celia, following the conversation intently but silently. He towered over everyone in the growing crowd—even Buzz, although Buzz was a whole lot wider.
“You’ve got guts,” Minnie said. “I guess you have to if you’re going to spend your life getting encased in ice and buried alive.”
“Maybe you didn’t know this, but we do that crap because we’re not given a choice.”
Minnie’s eyes widened. “Crap? Such cynicism. I figured you were all true believers. I mean, how does a woman eat herself to death unless she believes in what she’s doing?”
The words cut Celia like a razor. “She’s not dead. That’s why I’m here, to get medicine for her. And to answer your question, she does it for her team.”
Minnie gave her a skeptical grunt. “Whatever. It’s a shame you went through all that just to end up here. We can’t get caught harboring a performer.” She turned.
“Wait!” Anand pleaded. “Can I talk to you?” He led Minnie away from the crowd, speaking rapidly, his mouth close to her ear. After a brief exchange, Minnie nodded.
Minnie held up a finger as she returned. “You’ve got one day. If you’re not gone tomorrow, you get iced. Till then, keep your head down.”
Celia nodded.
Minnie turned to the crowd. “She’s under my protection for a day. Anybody blows the whistle or ices her, I’ll find out.” She shooed them with a wave of her hand. “Now let the girl get some sleep.”
The crowd dispersed, except for Anand.
“What did you say to her?” Celia asked.
Anand shrugged. “I said I’d give her my next three incentives. She said I’d give her my next ten. I said okay.”
Celia had no idea why this stranger would help her, but she stuck out her hand. “Thank you. Sincerely. If they sent me back, my friend wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Anand tilted his head, ignoring Celia’s outstretched hand. His hair fell away from one side of his face, exposing his scarred neck, the nub of his missing ear. “They weren’t going to send you back.”
Celia frowned. “Then what were they going to do?”
He gave her a dark look. “They were going to beat you to death with bags of ice and stuff you down the trash chute.”
Celia waited for Anand to crack a smile. Instead, he motioned up at the wall of cots. “The vacant cots are always at the top, by the way. You have to fight or buy your way to floor level.”
“Good to know.” Celia scanned the walls of cots, suddenly seeing these people in an utterly different light. The audience—the impeccably-dressed, mysterious audience—beat each other to death with bags of ice. Some were already in bed, others were hanging around in groups, watching Celia. She didn’t like that they were watching her. “Where’s your cot?”
Anand pointed toward the ceiling. “Very top.”
“So what you’re saying is you can’t fight and you’re not rich.”
Anand burst out laughing. “Something like that.” He was amazingly tall. Not anywhere close to all-time record holder Robert Pershing Wadlow’s eight foot eleven, but he had to be six foot seven or eight. He wasn’t as thin as he’d looked from a distance, though. He was wiry, the muscles in his arms well-defined.
“How often do you stay here? And where are you from?” Celia had so many questions.
“What do you mean?” He looked around. “I’m from here.”
For a moment Celia was too startled to speak. “You mean, you live in this place?”
Anand nodded. “Bathrooms are right around the corner.”
Celia dropped her head, and pinched her temples. “I was going to blend in and follow you out
side. I am such an idiot.”
“Come on.” Anand motioned toward a ladder. “You look exhausted. Let’s find you an empty cot.”
“I have to get out of here. You saw what happened to my mother. I need to get to the outside—they have medicine there that could save her life.”
“The gate is locked for the night. Besides, we can’t just walk out any time we like. You have to wait till we leave for an event in the morning, then slip away.” He had such a peculiar expression, his big, dark eyes wide, his lips a tight line.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I—I just can’t believe you’re here.” He turned away. “Come on, we should get you off the floor.”
Celia grasped a rung of the ladder and climbed, with Anand behind her.
“You really swam under that wall?” Anand asked. “I mean, if anyone’s going to do it, it would be you, but still, it’s unbelievable.” Celia had joked to herself that Anand must be her biggest fan, but he sure sounded like her biggest fan.
She passed a round-headed guy with a brown blanket pulled up to his chin who stared at her, wide-eyed. In the berth above him, a skinny woman sat cross-legged on her cot, smoking a cigarette. When they reached an empty cot at the top, Celia sat with her legs dangling over the edge. She scooted over to make room for Anand.
“What do you do when you’re not watching us perform?”
Anand shrugged. “We’re watching others perform. We travel from town to town and sit in the stands and...” He clapped his hands, slowly, sarcastically.
“Cut it out,” someone called.
Anand stopped. “We cheer, we boo, we jump out of our seats and throw our fists in the air, we ‘ooooooooo,’ we do the wave. Every day. Every. Single. Day.”
All this time she’d envied the audience, with their smart outfits, stylish haircuts, manicured nails. She’d imagined them going home to interesting lives, jobs, families. But they were no better off than she was. What was the point, if the audience members weren’t people from outside who bought tickets, if the audience was being forced to be an audience, while they were being forced to perform?
Unbreakable Page 4
