Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.
I reached the glitch.
It shimmered and flickered, but I could see it for what it was. A single rustic cabin sat in these endless woods. Judging by how it behaved like a tear in the fabric of this construct, I knew it wasn’t supposed to be here.
The door refused to budge, so I moved to the window.
The tiny building had a single-room interior with a cozy sitting area and quaint kitchen. Even odder than the cabin-that-shouldn’t-exist was the door-that-shouldn’t-exist. A solid steel door stood in the middle of the room, connected to nothing.
It defied gravity. Its matte, industrial metal contrasted with everything else in this reality. It looked exactly like the exit in our first construct.
It was my way out, hard-coded and ever-present, just like Lena and her team had promised. The door was part of Lena’s construct. The cabin wasn’t.
Someone had put it in this precise spot to hide the exit.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out another cool metal breadcrumb. I would have one—maybe two—seconds to explain this development.
As I dropped the breadcrumb, I shoved as many words as possible into one breath. “Glitch is a cabin. Exit—”
“Recording captured,” the robotic voice interrupted.
That would have to be enough. I had one breadcrumb left, and I needed to save it for something important.
Inside the cabin, a worn wooden table stood near the window, adorned with mismatched chairs. Faded paintings of forests and animals decorated the walls, along with framed photos of families of numerous races with too-perfect features that could only have been AI-generated.
The kitchen was a throwback to days I’d only heard about, with its hand-pump sink, stovetop teakettle, and hanging copper pots that gleamed as if freshly shined. In complete contrast to all that, a HyperOven sat on the counter.
The curved outer shell of the high-tech cooker wore a glossy, mirrored look with a broad base that narrowed to the top. An oval-shaped glass door took up most of the front, with a slight blue tint that gave it a futuristic look.
According to the ads, which I’d seen a hundred times, it could cook a compressed meal pod for a family of eight in less than three minutes.
“Hot and fresh in a fraction, HyperOven perfection in rapid action,” I muttered, quoting its advertisements.
The cabin had no doors except the front one and the steel one floating in the center. That meant no bedroom, no bathroom—just a bizarrely detailed living space.
I tried the door again, but it clicked against the lock.
“Come on!” I rattled the handle.
An orb-like drone zipped across my eyeline and hovered above, graceful as a hummingbird.
If I remembered correctly from its advertisements, this was a surveillance drone—an expensive one. Why would Lena need surveillance inside her construct?
This cabin didn’t mesh with what I knew of her. She was all about realism and attention to detail. She wouldn’t create this place with no bathroom or bedroom, with a HyperOven next to a pump-action sink, a random door in the middle, and a fancy drone outside.
Maybe a member of her team built it as a bad joke.
“Hilarious.” I stuck my middle finger up at the drone.
I slammed my elbow into the window. Pain throbbed up my arm, but the glass didn’t give. Not even a crack.
The effort left me gasping. I bent at the waist and put my hands on my knees. My walk couldn’t have been more than an hour, yet I felt utterly drained. The breeze chilled my forehead, already damp with sweat.
I let myself collapse to the earth.
My body wouldn’t be this tired from just walking, but this wasn’t my body. This was some virtual version of me walking around an imaginary forest-scape CyberCorp had built inside my head.
If I didn’t escape this place, Harlan would be inconsolable.
Worse, Ellen would send him to the meat market.
I shoved to my feet, fighting against fatigue that pressed me down like a lead weight on every limb. My life could depend on getting inside this cabin.
The windows on this side had no locks, no latches. They hadn’t been designed to open. Trees pressed against the structure’s outer walls, so I’d have to squeeze past them to get to the back.
Branches scratched and clawed as I shoved them aside until I reached the opposite side. Two more windows marked the back of the cabin. Like the ones in front, these had no latches.
They offered a different view of the interior. Against the wall beside the front door stood a massive wood-burning oven, large enough to fit an entire hog. A stack of logs sat beside it, piled almost to the ceiling.
The surveillance drone buzzed close to my face, and I swatted. It zoomed out of reach but hovered nearby. I turned back to the window.
Across the cabin, the front door slammed open, and Harlan stumbled through.
Someone strode through behind him and snuffed out my hope just as quickly.
The other person’s leather-like skin was taut over sharp cheekbones and a long nose. Wispy strands of white hair framed a thin face. Narrow eye slits, filled with malice, emanated a cold so great I shivered, even from a window away.
The hag shoved him forward, and he tumbled to the ground. His forehead hit the floor with a thud that made me cringe. I slammed my palm against the window, but neither looked up.
Rope kept his hands locked in front of him.
“Look what you made me do.” Her voice was nails scratching a chalkboard.
As he struggled to stand, she shoved him with her foot. He toppled to the side. He scrambled to a sitting position and scooted backward until he hit the couch.
“Harlan!” I slammed a fist against the window and screamed.
Neither of them noticed. I could hear them but not the other way around.
The witch hummed a discordant tune as she screeched open the door to the giant wood-burning oven and tossed in a log.
“Please, listen to me.” Harlan’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what you want, but Lena Hayes will give it to you if you let me go.”
The hag threw more logs into the fire. Her wild tune grew louder with each toss.
Harlan scrambled to his feet.
The witch spun on him. When she touched his chest and shoved, Harlan’s form flickered where they touched. His face contorted. His horrific scream flickered in and out like an audio device on the fritz.
I slammed both fists against the window, but my voice dried up. A silent scream caught the salt tears streaming down my face.
“Stop it!” I shouted. I slammed my elbow against the glass, and pain shot through my arm. I howled.
Harlan’s body twisted and distorted beneath the witch’s touch. All the while, she caught my eye and her gaze skewered me.
The doors and windows were locked and unbreakable, at least as far as I was concerned. Harlan couldn’t hear me … but the witch could. This cabin was her construct.
I ripped my final breadcrumb from my pocket. The metal cooled my hot fingertips and my nerves.
If I used it, my recording needed to be perfect. None of my other breadcrumbs had saved us. If Lena and her team received my messages, the content I’d given them hadn’t been enough to set Harlan and me free.
This one had to be better.
I rubbed the metal between my fingertips.
“Time’s up,” the witch screeched in a voice that could sear metal. “The CyberCorp Princess doesn’t care about your life.”
The witch grabbed and shoved him toward the oven. Fire roared upward like a rocket. I couldn’t feel the heat from my spot outside, but the air shimmered as it met the cooler temperature of the cabin.
A scream grappled up my throat and hurled itself into the air.
Despite his trembling, Harlan’s eyes went wild. He clawed at the witch’s face, but her grip was unbreakable. The orange light of the fire reflected off the HyperOven only feet away.
The HyperOven. That was it!
“HyperOven interference,” I shouted as I let my final breadcrumb slip from my fingers and drop to the dirt.
“Recording captured,” came the electronic voice.