CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

The monitors were showing people alone in tiny cells. They all looked haunted, bored, and dead inside. I forced myself to keep looking at them. I had to help them. “The next step is to make Boone and Grace work together somehow. They need to be in danger, and they need to have a way to save themselves that involves working together.”

Bartholomew was behind me. “That’s quite inventive. I’m impressed.”

I kept my eyes on the monitors. “It worked for Jason and me.”

“Using your own experience. Even better.”

I gestured at the monitors casually. “Are they just outside, in the other rooms on the hall?”

He laughed. “Are those images bothering you?”

I shrugged. “I was only curious. I never hear anything, so either they aren’t close to me, or they’re all very quiet.”

“Oh,” said Bartholomew. “Actually, the walls are just lined with soundproof material. There are two hallways like the one you’re on. It’s where we keep all the isolated immortals. General population is at the bottom of it all, in the basement.”

I pretended not to be interested in the information he was feeding me. “Well, keeping out the sound was a good idea. You’re smart to have thought of it.”

He smiled. “Otherwise, they’d know they weren’t actually alone. That would defeat the purpose of isolation, wouldn’t it? It also allows us to be relatively compact. Most of the operation is underground, except for some offices above.” He pointed at the ceiling. “It’s best if we aren’t too conspicuous.”

Oh, yeah, Bartholomew. Keep talking. Tell me everything. “Then you do a good job keeping everything hidden. I guess this is a remote location as well.”

He shrugged. “Not so remote. We wouldn’t want to be entirely cut off from the world, would we? We do rely heavily on solar power and generators, however. It would be hard to explain the amounts of power we use here if anyone came looking and there were records. It was useful in the blackout after the solar flare as well.”

The blackout? He’d just let me know that we were on the east coast. I was almost giddy with the amount of things he’d revealed to me, but I did my best not to let it show.

“Boone and Grace,” he said.

Dammit. “Yes?”

“I thought you’d be interested to know that they’ve been much more cordial to each other since last night’s incident. They don’t seem to be actively avoiding each other anymore. That’s very good news.”

I forced myself to smile. “It is.”

“I’ll get started on working out a scenario like the one you’ve described,” he said. “I assume you’ll want to observe it as well?”

Did I? What if this actually did work, and I ended up with a six-camera view of two kids bumping uglies for the first time? Did I want to see that? “Of course I’ll want to observe.” If I said no, I lost the ability to try to get information. Which I needed.

* * *

Bartholomew didn’t come back for two days, and when he did, he didn’t take me to the control room. Instead, he was just in my room when I woke up, standing at the foot of my bed. “Good morning,” he said.

I threw my feet over the side of the bed. “Where have you been?”

He clasped his hands together. “I must say that we’ve had a bit of an issue trying to implement the scenario that you suggested. I ran it by some of the others that I work with, and they feel they need more information from you about it. They’d like to ask you some questions. I’m going to take you with me to meet them. Upstairs.”

My eyes widened. I was going to see more of this place? That could only help my escape plans. “Fine with me.”

“I assumed you wouldn’t mind,” he said. “However, they don’t trust you.” He sat down on the bed with me. “You have to understand that you are technically a prisoner here, and they worry that you aren’t working to help us. Of course I told them that I thought you were doing a first rate job, and that you even seemed to be enjoying it, but they weren’t convinced. They demanded that I take precautions.”

Precautions? What did that mean?

“I’m very sorry,” he said, grabbing me by either side of my face.

“What are you doing?”

He wrenched my head sideways. I heard a snapping noise.

* * *

I awoke in a heap on the floor of my room. Bartholomew helped me to my feet, and he offered me a small glass of blood. “Drink this, just to be sure you’re all right.”

I took the glass. “What did you do?”

“I had to kill you.” He put his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “I’m sincerely sorry. But the others felt it was the only way we could be sure of you. You see, now you must have the blood at least once a month if you want to stay alive.” He gestured to the glass. “Go on. Drink up.”

I didn’t. “What do you mean, kill me? I’m not dead.”

“No,” he said. “I killed you with the immortal blood in your system. So, you aren’t dead. But you will be in a month if you don’t get more blood. That’s the way it works, I’m afraid. Don’t worry too deeply about it, my dear. I’ve died before myself. It’s only worrisome if you don’t have a supply of blood, and we have plenty here.”

I stared at the glass of blood. I was dead ? If I didn’t drink this stuff, I’d cease to exist? “I can’t leave.”

“No,” he said. “You’re dependent upon us. This helps them trust you a bit more, you see?”

So, if I got away from this place, I’d never be able to go for more than a month without drinking blood. I was just like the monsters who kept us here. They had turned me into one of them.

“Drink,” he said.

I didn’t.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he said. “Nothing’s changed. Not really. Look at the bright side. You’ll never age.”

I wanted to dash the glass of blood against the concrete floor, shatter it into a million pieces. But instead, with shaky hands, I raised it to my mouth and downed it. The most perverse thing about it all, I realized, was that I was actually starting to like the taste.

* * *

“You won’t have to stay down here anymore,” said Bartholomew. “So that’s a positive, isn’t it?” He was leading me down the hall in the opposite direction of the control room. He hadn’t bothered to handcuff me.

I felt numb. So I wasn’t going to be locked up. Did I care?

He reached into his pocket and took out a ring of keys as he walked. “I think you’ll find you’re quite happy here, after you’ve had a few decades to adjust.” He stopped walking at the end of the hall.

A few decades? I wouldn’t be here that long. I had to get out of here. Get us all out of here. I could do that, even if it meant I didn’t survive once I was out. I wouldn’t let them keep Jason locked up here.

Bartholomew stuck one of his keys into a slot on the wall, and the wall (which looked like a typical dead end) slid aside like a sliding glass door. Behind it was an elevator, the door opening for us. He ushered me onto the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor.

“Does this elevator go down to general population?” I asked, my throat dry.

“Why yes, of course,” said Bartholomew. “After a bit of time, perhaps you can even assist us when we go down to draw blood. You are quite handy with a gun, as we saw.”

I would never do that. Never. But I was realizing that this turn of events was working to my advantage, and I needed to make sure he couldn’t tell that I was going to use all my newfound freedom to get the hell out of this place. I touched my greasy hair. “Bartholomew?”

“Yes?”

“Does this mean I’ll get to take a shower?”

He laughed. “Certainly, my dear. In fact, I’ll let you do that before we go to see the others.” He punched the button for the fourth floor, and the elevator lurched to a stop.

We got out on a hallway that looked quite similar to the others I’d seen. However, there were framed pictures on the gray walls and the doors were spaced further apart. He opened a door to our right.

I stepped inside a studio apartment. There was a kitchenette tucked in one corner, a living area with a couch and chair, and a full-sized bed against the far wall. Bartholomew padded over the carpet and opened a door. “The bathroom is in here,” he said, showing me a room with a stand-up shower and toilet. “There’s a closet right here.” He opened a door. “You should find clothing that will fit you there.”

I looked around. “No cameras?”

He patted me affectionately on the arm. “No cameras.” He started out. “I’ll be waiting for you. Try not to shower for too long. They are waiting for us.”

* * *

I met Bartholomew in the hall in about fifteen minutes. My hair was still wet, and I was wearing black slacks and a black shirt, the uniform of the armed men, and fearfully reminiscent of the Sons. I was amazed that the doorknob turned easily in my hands. “You aren’t going to keep me locked up in here?”

“There’s no need for that,” said Bartholomew. “Of course, you won’t be able to simply leave. You need a key for the elevator.” He jingled his keychain at me.

Part of me wanted to tackle him right then, wrestle the thing out of his hands, and make a run for it. Jason , I told myself. Wait until you can get to Jason. I fingered the hem of my shirt. “Why all black?”

“You’d prefer something sunnier? Bright yellow, perhaps?” He stepped back inside the elevator, and I followed suit.

“Well, no, it’s only that the similarity to the Sons of the Rising Sun is a little eerie. And you had Moretti’s book, too. There’s some kind of connection.”

“The book was a dead end,” said Bartholomew. “If it had been important, I wouldn’t have put it in the general population library.”

“Dead end?” I said.

But the elevator stopped, and Bartholomew ignored my question as we stepped out into a large room where the sun poured in.

The sun. I hadn’t seen natural daylight in so long. I looked around. It appeared that I was in a normal office building. We were standing in the foyer. The door to the outdoors was only three feet from me. Certainly, I could take Bartholomew down and get there. It wouldn’t prove much of an obstacle, even if it was locked. It was made of glass. I gaped at it.

He touched my arm. “Perhaps someday soon, we can go for a walk. Would that please you?”

He was talking to me like I was a small child and he was a doting grandfather, offering a desired toy. I squared my shoulders. “I’m only surprised. The security in the rest of the building is so much more... thorough.”

“Well, no one comes up here who’s a threat,” said Bartholomew. “Come along.” He took me by the arm and led me to a large room, flanked by windows on either side. There was a long table in the center, and several men—also wearing black—sat there. Bartholomew pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit. He sat down next to me. “Well,” he said to the men, “I’ve brought her.”

The men all looked at me as if they could see through my clothes, and I realized they’d probably all watched me have sex with Jason. Heat rushed to my face. I set my hands on the table. “Bartholomew says you wanted some clarification on my idea.”

One of the men leered at me. “I’m not sure what the point is of making it so complicated. The agent seems to work just fine.”

“I still don’t know why we’re not artificially inseminating,” said another man. “I know that the argument’s been made that it requires a certain amount of distasteful ‘hands-on’ activity on our parts, but I think the results would be much more favorable.”

“You gonna jack ‘em off, Foster?” asked another man.

I curled my lips in distaste.

Foster clenched his jaw but was silent.

“She’s worked wonders thus far,” said Bartholomew. “I think we need to give her idea a shot.”

“The truth is, Bartholomew,” said Foster, “you’re far too invested in the immortals. You find general population entertaining. This is all some kind of warped little game you want to play because you’re too old to think of anything more exciting to do.”

Bartholomew wasn’t fazed by this criticism. “Oh, perhaps so. Does it matter what my motives are?”

“It matters if you’re wasting our time making us think up scenarios for the immortals,” said another man.

One of the men looked at me. “Thing is, we’re limited in the kinds of things we can make happen down there. You want them in danger, and you want them to work together to save themselves. How do you propose we do something like that?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I hadn’t really thought through the logistics of my idea. Bartholomew seemed so pleased with it that I thought it was good enough as a concept. “Well, maybe we should start by listing the kinds of dangers they could be in down there.”

“That’s just it,” said Foster. “We don’t want them hurt. We need them intact.”

“You had no problem depriving us water for days,” I said, glaring at him.

“Your little stunt with the cameras pissed me off,” he said, glaring right back.

“But that was different anyway,” spoke up someone else. “That was a consequence for actions. If they end up in danger for no reason, I highly doubt it’s going to have the desired effect. They’ll be too caught up in wondering why we’re fucking with them.”

That was true. We’d have to find some other way to make this work. I had to admit I enjoyed trying to figure this out. “What if they thought it was an accident?”

“Aha!” said Bartholomew. “You see? I told you she was genius.”

“She’s still one of them,” said Foster.

I flinched. “I’m not. You had me killed. Now I’m one of you, whether I like it or not.” I didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“What kind of accident?” asked one of the men, bringing us back to the topic at hand.

“I don’t know,” I said, searching for something to say. “Something that could happen and they wouldn’t suspect we were behind it. Like the power going out?” I realized belatedly that I had said “we” instead of “you.” I felt guilty about all of this. Was I being an idiot? I knew where the door was. Should I be running away? I could get help and come back? No. I wasn’t leaving without Jason. I had to figure out how to get him out. Once I did that, I’d leave. Until then, I had to play the game.

“We could cut the power,” said someone, “but that would mean that we couldn’t see what was going on. The cameras would be dead.”

“The lights could be out and the cameras could still be running,” I said. “They wouldn’t know the cameras were on.” I bit my lip. “Of course, I guess if it was dark, we wouldn’t be able to see anything.”

“The cameras are equipped with night vision,” said another man.

“I still don’t see what would make them think losing power was an accident,” said Foster. “They’ll think we’re screwing with their heads.”

“They will if we tell them it is,” I said.

“What?” Foster threw me a withering glance. “How would that work?”

“We send down a note with the food,” I said. “It says that the power’s going to go out for a few hours and that they shouldn’t be alarmed. That all the doors will be unlocked and the temperature control will be completely off. Then we turn off the lights, lock them in, and blast cold air on them.”

A man raised a finger, grinning. “I like it. Dark and cold. They’re going to want to be close.”

Bartholomew nodded. “Yes, that’s a nice touch.” He considered. “But you said they should work together to save themselves. How can they do that in this scenario?”

Crap. I’d completely forgotten about that. “Can we have them locked in the main room again? Same drill as before with Emma?”

“Certainly,” said Bartholomew.

“Well, we’ll tell them in the note that if anything goes wrong, the food shaft will still detect if something goes in it. We’ll give them a pen and paper, and tell them they should let us know if there are problems that way, since the cameras are off.”

“They’ll think we aren’t watching them,” said one of the men. “She is genius.”

Despite myself, I felt a little proud. “Then we make sure the food shaft is electrified. They’ve got to get their message to us in that shaft while it’s juiced up and shocking them.”

Bartholomew gave me a slow smile. “Very nice.”

Foster shook his head. “You actually think this is going to work?”

“I do,” I said. I was kind of sure of it. “But I wouldn’t expect it happen during the danger. It’ll happen after they’re safe. It’s the kind of thing people do to affirm that they’re alive after something harrowing.” I couldn’t help but think of Jason and me in a hotel room, after he’d shot the Sons and rescued us. This would work, and I wasn’t sure if I could forgive myself for doing it.

* * *

Foster was outside my door. “Bartholomew doesn’t think that anyone needs to keep an eye on you, but I don’t agree.”

“Good for you.” I started to close the door in his face.

He wedged his foot in it. “Aren’t you going to be polite and ask me in?”

“If I don’t invite you, are you banned forever?” I said. “We are vampires, aren’t we?”

He shoved the door open and stepped inside. “You’re very funny, Miss Jones.”

“I guess there’s no way to make you leave?”

He shut the door.

I sighed. I went over to the couch and threw myself down on it. “Please don’t get comfortable. I don’t want you around.”

He sat down on the chair. “You’re playing Bartholomew, but I see right through you.”

“Do you?” I said. I actually regretted being rude to him suddenly. Maybe he was going to get me thrown back in a cell. But he hadn’t been very polite to me earlier. It would have also looked suspicious if I’d pretended to be his best friend.

“You’re trying to get out of here,” he said.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of anything to say without giving myself away.

“I guess you don’t recognize me.”

I looked at him sharply. I hadn’t expected that. “Should I?”

“Maybe if I were bowing,” he said. “The last time I saw you, you and your boyfriend were in Italy, and I was pledging to protect him with my life.”

I furrowed my brow.

“I infiltrated the Sons for Bartholomew,” he said. “I was looking for a book that Professor Moretti had. About King Arthur. I saw you recognize it in the library.”

I sat up straight. “Bartholomew said the book was a dead end.”

“Oh, it was. Bartholomew thought that the line of King Arthur was a line of immortals. He thought we’d be able to use the book to track them down. It turned out that the blood was too diluted by this point to make much difference. The descendents of Arthur had to mate with someone who also had immortal blood for their children actually to be immortals themselves.” He shrugged. “I did find your boyfriend’s brother, however. I shot him, and he didn’t die. So I brought him back here.”

“So you have nothing to do with the Sons,” I said.

“Other than posing as a member for a while, no,” he said. “I did like the way they dressed, I guess.” He smiled.

“Why are you here?”

“Keeping an eye on you, like I said,” he said. “Bartholomew’s an idiot. They brought the two of you in here even though I told him it was a bad idea. I knew who you were. After all the propaganda I got fed when I was pretending to be in the Sons, I watched you and Jason. You’re bad news.”

I shrugged. “Bartholomew snapped my neck. I can’t go anywhere or else I’ll die in a month.”

“Whatever you are, you’ve probably got some way around that,” said Foster.

“No,” I said. “The power we had is gone.”

He smirked. “Sure it is.”

“Why else would we still be here?” I said.

He appeared to consider that. “Maybe you’re telling the truth. Maybe you aren’t. No matter what, I don’t trust you.” He settled in the chair, looking me over. “Why are you playing games with the kids downstairs?”

What was I supposed to say? “You ever been locked in a room for a month with no human contact?”

He shook his head.

“Well, it was either that or help Bartholomew.” I picked at the arm of the couch. “And there is the blood.”

“Yeah,” he said. “The blood is pretty great.” He leaned forward. “But you wouldn’t betray your boyfriend for that, would you?”

“I already have,” I said, and I didn’t have to fake the amount of shame that crept into my tone. It was true. I was doing this to try to save us, but I was crossing a lot of lines. That seemed to be the way my life worked. Nothing was easy. And I wasn’t ever going to be some kind of saint.

He smirked. “I almost believe you.”

“I couldn’t care less what you think,” I said. “I don’t want to go back to that room. I like the shower here.”

“Oh, you care what I think,” he said. “Because Bartholomew’s belief in you will only take you so far. So if you really don’t want back in that room, you better not slip up. And I’m watching you.”

“Good for you,” I said again. “I guess that’s what you folks like to do around here, isn’t it? Watch?”

He got up and sat down next to me on the couch. “Oh, I’ve been watching you since you got here.” He leaned in close. “I’ve seen everything.”

I stood up.

He did too. He brushed my hair away from my neck and whispered in my ear, “That was quite a show you put on down there. You’re very... athletic.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

He just laughed.

* * *

Foster took me to the control room later that evening. He had keys to the elevator. I assumed everyone did except for me. Maybe I’d get some eventually, but I didn’t know if I could wait that long. I needed to figure out how to get someone’s keys. And I needed to find out where Jason was and how to get him out of his room. Near as I could tell, the keys only worked on the elevator. The locks on the doors were electronic, controlled by the computer.

Bartholomew was already inside, along with the men from the meeting earlier today. “So lovely to see you, my dear,” he said, leading me to a seat.

“Is it a good idea to put her near a keyboard, Bartholomew?” said Foster.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” said Bartholomew. He gestured to the monitors. “As you can see, they’ve already found the note we sent down. They’ve read it, and they look concerned.”

I directed my attention to Boone’s and Grace’s confused faces. They were talking about how nothing like this had ever happened before.

Bartholomew turned to me. “So, when do we kill the lights and start everything?”

“Does Emma know about this?” Grace said. “Maybe we should find her.”

“Now,” I said. We couldn’t have Emma there. It would screw everything up.

“You heard her, boys,” said Bartholomew.

There was a clatter of keys being struck as the men typed into various consoles. The monitors went black, and Grace screamed.

After a second, the cameras adjusted, and now we could see them again, although they looked strange and green, with oddly gleaming eyes. I was familiar with the way night vision looked from enough mockumentary horror films that I wasn’t surprised.

“Boone?” Grace was saying, reaching out in the darkness. “Where are you?”

Boone’s hands brushed Grace’s, and he grabbed them. “Gotcha.”

“Well,” said Boone, “they said the power would go out.”

“Why do you think they’re doing this?” she said, huddling close to him.

“Routine maintenance?” He squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe Jason, Jude, and Azazel aren’t dead, and they’re causing trouble up there for them.”

“Do you think so?” There was so much hope in her voice. It broke my heart. I was alive, but I wasn’t causing trouble for our captors. I was doing that to Grace and Boone.

“Maybe,” he said. “Look, they said the doors wouldn’t be locked. I can help you find your room.”

“You’re going to leave me alone?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“What’s wrong? You scared of the dark?”

“No.” Grace drew herself up, even though Boone couldn’t see her.

Boone was feeling around for the door.

“Boone, do you think it’s getting colder in here?”

“Maybe a little,” he said. “But they said the temperature control would be off, so—”

“Shh,” she said.

A second of silence.

“Why am I being quiet?”

“Do you hear that? There’s air coming through the vents. They’re on.”

Boone had found his way to the door. “Weird. Maybe they’ll go off later?” He turned the door handle. “Shit.”

“What?”

“The door’s locked,” he said.

“Why...?”

“The air’s still on, the doors are locked,” he said. “Something’s not right.”

Grace chewed on her lip. “They said the doors would be unlocked.”

“And that the temperature control would be off.”

“So whatever’s going on up there, it’s not going the way they said it would,” said Grace. She hugged herself. “That air coming through the vents is really cold.”

“Yeah,” said Boone. “It is. Look, the note said that if things went wrong, the food shaft would work.”

“You think we should try to send them up a note, like they said?”

Boone shrugged. “I don’t know. They’ve never done anything like this before. They’ve never given us a way to communicate with them.”

“It must mean that they didn’t anticipate this going well. Whatever’s happening, they expected issues,” said Grace.

“Okay,” said Boone. “Let’s write the note.” He closed his hand around Grace’s again and together, they felt their way back across the room until they found the paper and pen we’d sent them.

Grace felt around the edges of the paper. “I can’t see. How am I supposed to write?”

“Do the best you can,” said Boone. “And keep it simple. Just write, ‘Doors locked. Air on.’”

“Okay,” Grace said. She began to write. We could see that her note was little more than an illegible scribble. Foster and some of the other men laughed. I started to join them, and then felt as if I were betraying the two of them. They didn’t know all of this was a setup. They were worried. “Done.”

“Cool,” said Boone.

“So, I’m just going to put it in the food door,” she said. The two were close to it. Grace ran her fingers over the wall until she touched the metal door. It shocked her. She screamed and fell backwards.

“Grace?” said Boone. He knelt down on the ground and crawled to her inert body. “Grace, are you okay?” He shook her. “Wake up!” I could hear the worry in his voice. He really did care about her. He rocked back on his heels, and drew a hand over his face. “You’re going to be okay,” he said more to himself than her. “You’re going to wake up in just a minute.”

The minutes dragged by. Neither Boone nor Grace moved. He had taken her hand, and he was squeezing it tightly.

She looked so small and helpless down there. I didn’t like it. Why was I doing this? For a monster like Bartholomew? I had to find a way out and soon.

Grace gasped and sat up.

Boone put his arm around her to support her. “It’s electrified.”

“No shit.” She clutched her chest.

“You okay?” he said.

“I’m... yeah. I think so. Give me a second.”

He pulled her close. “You scared the hell out of me. Maybe you should let me try to get to the door.”

Grace didn’t seem to mind having Boone hug her like that. She smiled a small, satisfied smile that only we could see. “You can’t get to it. It’ll shock you.”

“Maybe if we used something that didn’t conduct electricity,” he said.

“Like what? Our tennis shoes? Oh, I forgot, we don’t have any.”

Boone was thinking.

“The table tops are wood,” Grace said. “Maybe that might work. We could slide one over and push the note down it?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do anything at all,” said Boone.

“What?”

“The power’s out,” he said. “The cameras aren’t working. They can’t see us. This is our chance to try to get out of here.”

“How?” she said. “The doors are locked.”

Boone was on his feet, stumbling through the darkness. “I don’t know. But I bet Jason would have an idea.”

Grace felt in the blackness. “Where are you?”

“Here.” He’d found a table. He turned it over onto its side so that he could roll it. “What do you think would happen if I hurled this table at the door? You think it might break it down?”

“I don’t know.” Grace was wandering towards the sound of Boone’s voice.

I heard the sound of Foster chuckling above me. “This isn’t working at all how you planned, Miss Jones. Didn’t you think they’d try escaping?”

“They can’t,” I said, “so I don’t see how it matters much. Can you make it colder in there?”

“Lower the temperature,” said Bartholomew.

Boone did roll the table at the door, to little effect. He picked it up and hurled it at the door, but it bounced off. By the time he was done, they were both shivering.

“It’s really cold,” said Grace, her teeth chattering.

Boone felt his way over to her. “Jesus. Your hands are like ice.”

“The j-jumpsuits aren’t very warm,” she said.

He wrapped his arms around her and began rubbing her back. “No, they’re not.”

We all watched as Grace tentatively put her arms around Boone.

He stopped her. “Here, fold them against your chest. They’ll get warmer.” But he wasn’t scolding. His voice held definite tenderness.

She did what he said. The two stood that way, huddled close, for several minutes.

“Are you warmer?” Boone murmured.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“We’re not going to get out of here. We need to send them a note upstairs, tell them what’s going on.” He pulled back. “You think you can help me with the table? We’ll try your idea.”

“Uh huh,” said Grace.

The two rolled the table over to the food shaft and set it against the door. Blindly, Grace set the note on it, and they tipped the table up. The note bounced against the door and fell to the ground.

“Did it work?” Grace was shivering again.

“I don’t think so,” said Boone. “I can’t hear the shaft moving.”

“The food door probably isn’t even open,” said Grace. “We have to lift it somehow.”

Boone knelt down and felt around. “I’ve got the note. It’s on the floor.”

“Damn it.”

“Let’s try using the table to open the door, okay?” said Boone. “Get on the other side and help me lift it.”

Wedging the table against the food door, the two managed to pry it open. With the door open, they tried sliding the note inside. This time it went in. They shut the door, put the table down, and sat down on the floor, out of breath.

“The shaft’s moving,” said Grace.

“Good,” said Boone.

Bartholomew looked at me. “Do we end the scenario now?”

“Give it a few minutes,” I said. “They’ll assume it’s taking us awhile to fix the issue.”

Grace and Boone were quiet, both with their faces raised upwards.

“Nothing’s happening,” said Grace.

“Maybe they can’t fix it right away,” said Boone.

“M-maybe,” she said. Her teeth were chattering again.

“You still cold?”

“Aren’t you?”

He reached for her. “Come here.”

She went gratefully into his arms.

Neither spoke for a while. They clung to each other and were quiet.

Boone finally broke the silence, but his voice was a low rumble, barely audible. “You know, I lied.”

“About what?”

“When I said I only kissed you because you were there.”

She laughed a little. “I thought you did.” She tilted her face up, even though she couldn’t see him.

His hand moved from her back to the nape of her neck. He dipped his head down, lower to hers.

Their noses collided.

Grace giggled. “Your nose is cold.”

“Your nose is a freaking popsicle,” he said.

“Maybe if they’re closer, they’ll warm up.”

He laughed.

And then, their lips met.

In the control room, we all watched them kiss, and Bartholomew applauded. “Very good. Excellent.”

“Not bad,” Foster said. “It’s only a kiss, though.”

“Well, it’s not the appropriate time in the girl’s cycle anyway,” said Bartholomew. “We’re laying groundwork here, Foster.” He turned to me. “Should we bring up the lights now?”

I grinned, feeling proud of myself. I knew they’d kiss. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“You heard the woman,” said Bartholomew.

On the monitors, the lights came up and the cameras switched back to normal view. Grace and Boone broke apart, looking around. Grace went to one of the doors. “It’s still locked.”

Bartholomew gestured to one of the keyboards. “Would you like to do the honors, my dear?”

“Unlock the doors?” I said.

“Are you crazy, Bartholomew?” said Foster.

“It’s a simple code,” said Bartholomew. “Hit ‘O’ for open, the number of the floor, followed by the door number, or in this case, the numbers of all of the doors you want open.” He pointed to a piece of paper taped to the desk. “There’s a handy reference map here for all the door numbers.”

I keyed in the sequence.

“Great,” said Boone. He went to the door to his wing. “Something must still be wrong.” He tried the door. It opened. “Huh. Maybe it took a few seconds?”

“Maybe,” said Grace. She turned the knob of the door to her wing. “I guess we should, um, go back to not talking, huh?”

Boone looked at the floor. “What the hell,” he muttered. He walked over to Grace and grabbed her hand. He stared down into her eyes. “We gotta stick together, right? We’re all we have.”

She smiled. “We do.”

He kissed her again. She clung to him. I was grinning like an idiot. Those two were good together. They were. I’d made them see it, and that wasn’t a bad thing, was it?

Boone slung a casual arm around her, leading her out of the main room. “So, you’re not lying about being fourteen, right?”

She shoved him. “You cocksucker.”

He didn’t let her go. “You know, I’m kissing you now. I think it’s about time you stopped calling me names.”

“Dumbass.” But she lifted her face, and he kissed her again.

In the control room, Bartholomew clasped his hands together. “Oh, this is quite promising. Quite promising. Miss Jones thinks that if we preserve the family unit, it might make reproduction more viable, so perhaps we’ll experiment with that once we get going.”

I blanched, but I hid it as best I could.

Foster had his hands shoved in his pockets. “How ‘bout I take Miss Jones back to her room before you go crazy and hand over your elevator keys there, Bartholomew? She’s our prisoner, you idiot. She’s not your pet.”

“Yes, certainly, take her back to her room,” said Bartholomew, ignoring Foster’s ridicule. He took my hands. “You’ve done an excellent job. I’m very impressed.”

Foster clenched his fist around my forearm and dragged me out of the control room. As we went up the elevator, I noticed that the control room was on level two. My new room was on level four. I knew how to open the doors in the control room now. I was certain I could get out of the main door. There was only one thing I needed, and Foster had been kind enough to point it out. An elevator key. With that, I could save everyone and get us all out of this hell hole.

But how was I going to get one?

Given enough time, I was sure Bartholomew would trust me enough to give me a key. He was incredibly trusting, or possibly just full of himself. But Foster would fight him on that. Foster saw me a tad more clearly. There was a possibility I could overpower Bartholomew and take his key. I could try it. But I’d only get one shot at that. I was pretty sure that if I failed, I’d never get out of a cell again.

Bartholomew wasn’t the only one with a key, of course. Foster had one.

Maybe I could overpower Foster. I sized him up as we stepped out of the elevator onto my new hallway. Maybe not. I’d have surprise on my side, but he was stronger than I was and bigger. It would be easier if I had a weapon.

Foster opened the door to my room and threw me inside. He followed me and shut the door behind him.

I turned to tell him to get out but bit my tongue just in time. I was having an idea.

“You think you’ve got us all fooled, don’t you?” he said. “I know what you’re up to.”

It was a really icky idea. If I did this, I was going to have nightmares for months. But I couldn’t really afford to wait. Jason and Jude had been in solitary long enough, and they were pushing Boone and Grace to have sex, and as cute as it might be to watch them kiss, Grace really was too young. I was going to have to try it. I took a deep breath. “This your idea of flirting, Foster?”

He looked taken aback.

I walked past him and over to the closet, which was large enough for me to stand inside. Earlier, when I’d been putting on my all-black uniform, I’d noticed that there was a robe in there. It wasn’t a really sexy robe or anything, but I could make it work. Maybe. I disappeared into the closet, feeling sick. I didn’t even know if I could pull this off. I’d never been particularly good at being... seductive.

I tossed my black shirt out of the closet. “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

“What the hell are you doing?” He appeared in the doorway.

Damn it. I hadn’t even had time to get into the robe. And I was half-dressed. But that was the idea, right? I gulped. And then I turned to face him slowly. “You made it pretty clear you were interested earlier. I guess you must get lonely if all you have is girls you can watch on camera. Must make you want the real thing.”

Foster wasn’t looking at my face. “You’re trying to trick me. It’s not going to work.”

Okay, I really was bad at this. Should I keep trying? I took two steps toward him, unbuttoning my pants. “How long has it been?”

He pulled me out of the closet, slamming me against the bathroom door. “I don’t play games.”

“Who says it’s a game?” I said. But he’d hurt me a little, and I had a hard time not letting it show. What was I getting myself into here? Keys! I need his goddamned keys.

Foster took me by the shoulders and whipped me around so that he was pressed against my back. One of his hands slipped down, pushing my black slacks down. Then he jammed me into the bathroom sink, pressing my face down against the cold porcelain.

His hot breath was on my neck, and I heard the whisper of his zipper.

It had happened so fast.

Not like this. Not like this. My plan was not to get forced against my will while bent over a sink. But if Foster was insisting on making things more difficult, then fine.

I shoved my elbow into Foster’s ribs.

He made a surprised noise at the impact and jumped a little, but he didn’t loosen his grip on me. If anything, his hand tightened around my neck. His free arm came around my torso, pinning my arms against my sides. “I’m not the kind of man you want to tease.”