by Sara Etienne
The gravelly voice spoke again, coming from right below me. “Come on, Nurse. I’m effing tired. I need a shower bad and a beer worse.”
A woman with a clipboard frowned up at an enormous guy with a face like mashed-up hamburger. Or the guy from that old horror movie. Freddy Krueger. While one hand shoved a cigarette in and out of his scarred, pockmarked face, the guy’s other hand rested intimidatingly on the neck of a short, pudgy teenager. A cringing boy in handcuffs versus a six-and-a-half-foot-tall bouncer. Yeah, that’s a fair fight.
“I’ve been up for thirty hours watching this one.” Freddy Krueger shook the guy, Zach, making his neck snap forward. Zach seemed to fold into himself, his shoulders slumping, his face going slack. Like he was vacating his body.
The woman, Nurse, fired back with a sharp, nasally voice. “Watson . . . Watson. Here we are. Take him to Room Twenty-one. And I’d better not see any bruises from those handcuffs. We don’t need another cell phone picture fiasco like last year,” Nurse shouted after him as he pushed the boy toward the dorms. “I’m still hearing about how many Cooperatives pulled their kids after that one. Mordoch wants these brats under control, but she doesn’t want to know about it.”
I sat up fast. Dr. Mordoch. The drugs. The fire. Nausea churned through me again and I closed my eyes, steadying myself. The night before was just a blur of darkness and drugged sensations. A shrouded memory, tinged with screams, nudged at my mind. I pushed it away. From what I saw going on in the courtyard, I didn’t want to stick around to remember what it was.
I wasn’t going to get far with bare feet. My boots were lying, still tied together, near the peak of the roof. I studied the hazy campus while I put them on.
In the dawn light, it was easier to get my bearings. It was mostly woods with clumps of solar panels sticking out here and there. In the middle of the sea of trees, the Compass Rose sat on an island of grass. It hung precariously out over the ocean at the bottom of the hill.
I remembered how the water had looked last night. Glittering and dangerous.
A little farther into the woods, another large house poked through the trees. Despite its size, the other building looked plain and shrunken next to the stone towers of the Compass Rose.
The dense trees made it easy to see the boundary of the school grounds. Brutally straight lines sliced off the forest, marking the end of Holbrook’s “refuge” and the beginning of a clear-cut, littered with old stumps. A single road ran through the wasteland, leading to town. The closest edge of the woods was only 100 yards away, on the other side of the dorms. I just had to get past the guards.
A car squealed in the distance, and shouting erupted from the woods leading up to the dorms.
Nurse yelled, “Caretakers report to the incident!”
She and her “caretakers” ran off toward the chaos. A few perimeter guards stayed put, but they were chomping at the bit. They paced, squinting through the trees in the growing light, ready to jump into the fray. This was my chance. I half crawled, half skidded down the roof to the ladder.
Balanced at the top, I remembered my sketchbook back in the dorm room. There were six months’ worth of drawings and notes in there. Six months of me. For a second, I thought about trying to sneak back in through my window. But I’d never make it out again without being spotted. I had to leave it.
Scurrying down, fear rang in my ears. Adrenaline must have dulled the pain, because my bruised body moved quickly down the rungs. But ten feet off the ground, I ran out of steps. There was another section of ladder, which was supposed to slide down, but it was secured with a heavy padlock. Clearly, fire safety was not Holbrook’s main concern.
The noises from the woods were close now. A shrill girl’s voice yelled obscenities with the rhythm and enthusiasm of a cheerleader. Angry shouts followed in its wake.
“Stop!”
“This is your final warning!”
I hurried, sliding my hands down the sides of the ladder, lowering myself until I was dangling from the last step. Suddenly, I was terrified. The fall from last night was still fresh in my mind. My sweaty fingers slipped on the rung as I was bombarded by memories.
The music calling. The frigid waves surging toward me. Drowning in the never-ending darkness. And then, the screaming.
I slammed against the ground. Clinging to the grass in the courtyard, my whole body shook with fear. I have to get out.
That one thought shouted itself over and over in my mind. Out! Out! Out! Pushing myself up, I dove into the woods just as a girl with bright turquoise hair burst into the far side of the courtyard.
“Viva la revolución! You’ll never catch me, bastards!” The girl’s blue hair was spiked into a Mohawk that defied gravity, and she pumped her arm high in the steamy morning air. She flashed a devious smile my direction, and I pulled farther back into the protection of the trees. Then she turned her attention back to the guards. The meat-faced guy, the one I now thought of as Freddy, barreled after her, dripping sweat. On his heels was a ropey, muscular woman, with dragon tattoos on both arms, and an onslaught of guards.
Freddy reached out to grab the girl and missed. Somehow she managed to stay a millisecond ahead, jogging along the sidewalk that circled the courtyard. I wasn’t sure if she was crazy or fearless or just stupid.
“It’s been a tough race, but Nami Fujita’s coming up on the final lap. She’s the long shot, but it looks like she just might make it. Dah-daaah-daah-dah dum-dum.” She was singing “Chariots of Fire.” “Dah-daaah-daah-dah-dum.”
Dragon-tattoo guard put on a spurt of speed, closing in on the girl, who I guessed was Nami, and grabbed her arm. The woman yanked hard enough to cause whiplash. Freddy was right behind them and swung back like he was going to backhand the girl.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Nami shook her finger at the guy, grinning. “No breaking the merchandise.” Her flared skirt swayed as she wiggled her hips.
Wow. I want to be her when I grow up.
Dragon flexed her arm and in a single, blurry movement, Nami was flat on the ground. Then the guard slammed her weight onto Nami, pinning her facedown on the wet grass. Finally, Nurse caught up to them.
“Enough!” Nurse shooed Dragon away and reached down to pull the girl up.
Finally, someone to help. Nurse said something I couldn’t hear, and Nami, her Mohawk crooked, crossed her arms defiantly. Fighting to paste her cocky smile back on. Then Nurse calmly pulled something from her holster and sprayed Nami directly in the face with it. Nami gasped in shock and thrashed on the ground, clawing at her eyes and screaming.
Time to go.
I bolted into the woods, adrenaline flaring through my body. Trees walled me in on every side, all looking exactly the same. My sense of direction abandoned me. The same tree trunk sprang up in front of me again and again. The same pine needles stung my skin. As I barreled downhill, all I knew was that each step was taking me farther from that repulsive scene.
Branches grabbed my already damp T-shirt. Roots shot up, out of the ground, to trip my feet. Trying to keep me at Holbrook. Then I slammed into a chain-link fence.
Tall trees had hidden it from the roof, but now nine feet of fencing knocked the breath out of me, absorbing my momentum in a thunder of wire. The fence ran as far as I could see in both directions, cutting off a rocky, tar-covered beach from the rest of the campus. The smell of the sea made me hungry. A deep-down, in-my-bones kind of hunger to be closer to it. I wanted to feel the water swirling around my legs. The waves gently tugging me away from here. Away from this.
I threaded my fingers through the chain-link, wishing I could get past it. So that’s why there were still trees on Dr. Mordoch’s “historic” estate. Barbed wire was coiled along the top of the fence, making it impossible to get in or out. Somewhere in the distance I heard the rumble of a car.
The road.
I swung around and took off back the way I had come. If I skirted around the dorms, if I managed to keep my sense of direction, I’d eventually hit the roa
d. If not, maybe I’d at least cross the long driveway leading to it.
My legs pounded up and down. My body dodged through brambling bushes and green-painted solar towers and low-hanging branches. Dust coated my mouth with chalky film.
The trees thinned slightly, and I made out the charcoal smudge of the driveway. I smiled as I turned onto it, my feet hitting the gravel. The crunch, crunch, crunch underfoot and the strip of faded gray sky made me feel stronger. In control again.
An engine roared behind me, and I ducked back into the woods just as a white, unmarked van zoomed by. It was getting lighter, and soon I’d be easy to spot among these wide-legged evergreens and shrubby saplings. I put on a burst of speed, picturing myself reaching the twisty island road. Following it away from this place. Following it anywhere. No plan was still better than staying at Holbrook.
Razor wire glimmered up ahead of me. The driveway that had been unblocked last night, welcoming us with open arms, was now shut off by a tall gate. Severing the school from the outside world.
“No!”
I grabbed the chain link and pulled, trying to slide the gate open. It didn’t budge. And there wasn’t just one gate. There were two, with an intercom and car-length space in between, making it impossible to just slip out. There was no way to get over the sharp slices of metal that curved off the top in all directions.
“No.” Even though I was used to fences at home, this one was different. The fence around South Hills made me feel safe. Keeping scroungers out, instead of me in.
The growl of another van hit my ears, and I jumped back into the trees, breathing hard.
Freddy rolled down his window and buzzed the intercom.
“Quittin’ time.” He saluted a camera sitting on top of the fence.
A camera. That I’d been standing right in front of.
The intercom staticked into life, and I didn’t stick around to hear what it said. I heard the van door slam behind me.
“Faye! Faye Robson. There’s no use running.” He was close, his gruff voice booming through the gray dawn.
I dove behind a decaying log, terrorizing an emaciated squirrel who’d been gnawing on a bone, and flattened myself against the dirt. Trying not to make a sound. Trying not to breathe in the stench of damp, rotting leaves.
But Freddy’s brutal arms bulldozed through the trees toward me. A small smirk twitched on his face as his eyes scanned the forest. Terror pushed into my temples, and I thought about Nami’s look of panic right before she was pepper sprayed.
Without thinking, I picked up the bone the squirrel had dropped. It was part of a fibula, maybe from a feral cat or a raccoon. My fingers rubbed the smooth surface of the bleached bone and a calm fell over me. The world went quiet.
I’d collected bones for most of my life. When the oil supplies peaked out and the country’s reserves ran low, Pittsburgh became very dangerous, very fast. So our suburb was one of the first to transform into a Cooperative. Then the Peak War started overseas, bringing more energy restrictions and all kinds of rationing.
Fences went up around South Hills. Guards were hired and cars stopped working. I felt more and more trapped. All those people, all that fear screaming in my brain and I couldn’t get away.
Then I found the river. It wasn’t that far from my house, but no one went there. The water was covered with a greenish sheen, and I held my nose, trying to block the putrid stench of chemicals and sewage mixed with rotting animals. Dead fish and squirrels and who knows what else were scattered everywhere, washed up on the banks. Most of the corpses still buzzed with flies, but one delicate skeleton was just bright white bones. Glaring in the sun.
I gently picked up what used to be a bird and was suddenly wrapped in total, blissful hush. It was such a relief from the pressure of all those people crammed together in the Cooperative, worried about having enough gas, enough money, enough food. Enough.
I took the bird home with me and hid it away in the crawl space in my room. Soon I added others. As the energy shortage went on, the bones were easier to find. The best place was around food storage sheds where they put out poison. They were mostly mice and raccoons, but once I found an owl, which like so many wild animals now was practically extinct.
But I was picky. Only perfect vertebrae. Curved ribs. Fragile wing bones. I cradled them in my hands, meticulously drawing them in my notebook, and then hid them away with the others.
One day in junior high, I came home from school and heard voices coming from my room. I crept upstairs, listening. Mom and Dad were talking in the same careful tones they’d used when my grandfather had died. My throat ratcheted so tight, I couldn’t breathe. I forced myself to turn the corner and I saw my parents sitting on the floor surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of skulls and femurs and tiny skeletons. A gleaming sea of white.
When Mom saw me standing in the doorway, she was startled into looking at me. She stared right into my eyes and shuddered. I didn’t imagine it. She actually shuddered, and her obvious disgust shivered through me too.
Before that moment, I’d only ever sensed strong emotions emanating from people. But that day my mother’s repulsion was so strong that for the first time, a clear word emerged from the murky surface of her thoughts: “Abomination.”
That word rang out again and again inside my head. It was the last time I looked my mom in the eye. In fact, I was careful with everyone after that. Afraid I’d see her verdict confirmed. A couple of weeks later, the first of the Holbrook Academy brochures had shown up.
I dropped the bone. I have to get out of here. From behind the log, my eyes scoured the fence for any way out. A tree branch that reached over the barbed wire. A tiny hole in the chain link. Anything. Even if I have to tunnel out with a cafeteria spoon.
But the fence was immaculate. The trees had been cut away from this side of the barrier, and there was nothing but stumps on the other side. Layers of sparkling razor wire vined through the wire mesh. There was no going up or over this thing.
“Fa-aye!” Freddy paused, muscles braced for the slightest sound, like we were playing a sick game of hide-and-seek. He was so close, I could see the trickle of sweat running down his thick neck now. The shadow of stubble on his chin.
Cicadas shrieked, their pulsing song filling the woods. The other way. Please, go the other way.
Freddy shrugged and swung away from me, moving back toward the drive.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, the humid air heavy in my lungs. Pulling myself up, my mind buzzed, searching for a way to get out of here. I kept low, tiptoeing over fallen branches until I couldn’t stand it anymore and made a run for it.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Freddy’s voice came from right ahead of me now, sounding relaxed, almost playful. Did I get turned around or did he double back?
Changing directions again, I sprinted up a hill. I gained speed, ignoring the cramp squeezing at my lungs. Then, suddenly, I hit the end of the forest. The end of the fence. The end of everything. I slid to a stop just before the ground dropped away, forty feet down, to a nasty finish of sharp rocks and rabid waves.
And beyond those frothing teeth were more waves. And more. All the way out to the smoggy, puce horizon. The hypnotic eternity of ocean was broken by squalling seagulls, generator buoys, a few lumps of islands, and the barrage of tankers teeming around the oil rigs.
Of course, Freddy was relaxed. He didn’t have to race after me. I had nowhere to go.
I looked down into the waves, that hunger growing in me again. Pulling me to it.
No. I thought of Nami and backed away from the roaring ocean and the bare, lichen-covered cliff. She’d run, not because she thought she could escape, but because she didn’t want to make it easy for them. Well, me either.
I pushed deeper into the trees where it was darker. My dread of getting lost among these monsters warred with my dread of getting caught. The forest grew denser and I ran blindly, trying to keep myself from sprawling on the ground.
&n
bsp; I almost crashed straight into her. She’d blended right into the trees. The girl, frozen in mid-scream, panic engraved into her metal face.
Her weathered bronze hands were thrown up in front of her. Her eyes hysterical and huge. The girl reminded me of those statues cast from the ruins of Pompeii. People stuck, for all of eternity, watching everything they loved be consumed by the fires of hell.
Her pain was too much. Too private. I looked away and saw another statue. And another. And another. Black shapes stark on the hill. All that was missing was the bonfire.
Six statues stood in a circle, their mouths stretched in horror. One was turning to run. Another was howling up at the early-morning sky. Each of them in silent agony, trapped in some never-ending nightmare. And I was trapped with them.
5
I LOOKED FOR SIGNS of the fire, but there weren’t any. There was no burned patch on the ground. No charcoal. No ash.
Was it the drugs, then? Did I imagine it? The flames? The music? My chest squeezed as I realized something else.
I counted again. Last night there’d been seven figures around the fire. Now there were only six.
“Sometimes, I think I can hear them screaming.” A soft voice came from right over my shoulder.
I spun around, ready to run. A girl, a real one this time, stared past me at the statues. She wore a white sundress, and her hair was pulled into a long, blond braid running down her back. I guessed that she was my age, maybe a little older. Another student trapped at Holbrook.
“What are they?” I kept my voice quiet, thinking of Freddy still in the woods somewhere.
“The Screamers. Can you hear them too?” Then her gaze shifted toward me, and I saw there was something a little off about her. Even though she was facing me, the girl’s eyes were wild and unfocused.
I just shook my head, afraid to startle this odd girl. On the other side of the clearing, tree branches smashed and Freddy’s swearing traveled through the woods. But the girl just stood there, her expression far away, as if she didn’t hear any of it. It was unnerving.
