Four

Breakfast consists of some kind of flavorless, gelatinous gunk that feels like petroleum jelly in my mouth, but I force myself to eat it anyway. Swallowing spoonfuls at a time without letting it hit my tongue. This might be the last meal I eat for a long while. At least, that’s what I tell myself each time I have to keep it from coming back up.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Clara on the other side of the table. She seems to be doing the same thing I am, with as much effort. At one point she has to cover her mouth with her hand to keep the stuff from spewing out. When I’m not watching Clara I’m watching for anything out of the ordinary. Like more WALTERs showing up to collect our sorry, rule-breaking asses. Even though I crushed the motion detector in my bracelet, I keep my movements perfect. But they have to know. How can they not? Come on, Clara, where’s the signal? I need to get out of here.

My heart short-circuits, fluttering uncontrollably inside my chest, and I keep scratching my hand so hard I’m surprised I haven’t drawn blood. People notice. The dozen girls sitting at my table stare and whisper under their breaths. Not loud enough to be heard over the clicks and scrapes of spoons in bowls, but enough that I can’t ignore them. Murmurs haven’t spread to the adjoining groups, so that’s good, except it doesn’t stop me from stressing.

The girl to my right nudges my arm. “Are you okay?”

I nod, but I can’t respond. I’m too afraid I’ll puke right here, right now.

The nervous glances from the girls at my table make the tension in the room that much more palpable. The damp air that much thicker. It takes too much effort to breathe when I need to be focused. Relaxed. So I can slip away undetected. How in the hell am I gonna do that?

Clara better know what she’s doing, or we’re both dead.

After an eternity, the bell sounds, and the other girls and I push back from the table. Same as we did last night. Except this time as I line up, Clara scratches her left ear. The motion’s quick, and if her bracelet was working it’d earn her a jolt.

The signal. Shit. This is it.

My gaze shifts to the front of the line, and that’s when I notice. Two WALTERs marching toward us from the hall, and they’re coming for me. Thank God they aren’t the same AIRS as last night, but these two don’t look any friendlier. They stomp in unison, with long, determined strides, their strong metal chests polished to perfection like they mean business.

Sweat trickles from my hairline and slides down my cheek, but I’m not a default skin newb and know not to make any sudden movements, even if it’s to reach up and brush it away. Not when the heat of their stares are scrutinizing my every action.

I tighten my grip on my tray, and my eyes stay glued to Clara as time slows to a trickle. I focus on each step she takes. The way her legs move inside her baggy jumpsuit. Her right foot falters; once than twice. Is that part of her plan?

Her left leg stretches forward, taking a larger step than usual even for her long legs, and then her right quickly catches up and passes, hooking onto the leg of the girl in front of her.

I watch in horror as the tray slides from the girl’s hands and she collapses into the girl in front of her, forcing that girl to stumble and fall. Then one by one they each go down. Unfinished mush splatters everything around. The line of girls behind Clara don’t know what to do. Or what’s going on. Torturous screams fill the room and echo off the walls. The buzz from bracelets doing their job makes me scream, too, even though I’m not being shocked. The WALTERs are getting closer, but now they have to maneuver through a tangled mess of more than a dozen bodies before they get to us.

Holy shit. What have I done?

Clara grabs my arm and yanks me to the side, sending my own tray to the ground with a loud clang.

Focus, Lezah, this is your chance.

I force the sound of agony out of my mind and follow Clara around the corner from where the rotating station we deposit our trays on meets the wall. Clara rams her shoulder into it and a hidden door opens. She’s stronger than she looks.

A gust of wind smacks me in the face, smelling of stale sea air and death. I freeze for a moment and stare into the black abyss. Cobwebs stream from the ceiling, which isn’t much higher than Clara’s head. There could be anything lurking inside.

My stomach gurgles, and it isn’t from the horrible breakfast. I’m not sure if I’d been this scared when they brought me here, and not because I can’t remember that day, but because I’m completely terrified now. Four days. And for Clara only one. That’s all I need to remind myself. Not to mention I’m not supposed to be here, and now I’m gazing into my chance to escape. I need to take it. Another scream from behind makes my skin crawl.

I grab Clara’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Her palm is slick with sweat. “I don’t—”

There’s a loud bang, and the screams turn into cries for help. Whatever’s happening to those girls is not going to happen to us. I can’t let those WALTERs get close. I yank Clara into the dark, slamming the door closed and turning a steel wheel to bolt us inside.

I swat and pull at the sticky silk of spider webs that string along my face and neck, clinging to my hair, but they’re insistent to stay glued to every inch of me. I hate spiders. Why couldn’t they be killed off with the other half of the world’s animal population? It’s not like they’re good for anything. Nothing I care about at least. They’re creepy and can crawl inside your ears and lay eggs. No thank you.

Clara shrieks and rustles next to me. “Lezah,” she whisper-screams, her voice full of fear. The same fear I’m desperately trying to push way, way back in my mind. Nothing says we have to split up now, while we’re in this super-creepy tunnel.

“We are getting out of here.” I squeeze her hand tight so she won’t be able to feel how it’s shaking. Just because I can’t trust her doesn’t mean I don’t want her to trust me.

My eyes slowly adjust. What seemed to be pitch-black nothingness isn’t as dark anymore. A long, cavernous hall stretches out in front of me. An eerie green glow comes from the metal walls, but I still can’t make out the details of Clara’s face yet. And now with the door closed, blocking out the sound from the dining hall, a low growl seems to be reverberating around. Like the walls are alive and angry at us.

I swallow hard, not once but twice, as I pull another web from around my neck and shake it to the ground. Now’s not the time to be scared. There’s too much at stake. I refuse to think about the fact that I could’ve very well sealed our fate by slamming that door. “Give me your wrist.” I muster as much authority into my voice as possible as I pull the needle from my sleeve.

Using the dull tip again, I pry open her bracelet and dig around until the date fades away. My hope is that it kills the power and any chance they have to track us. After pressing her bracelet closed, I drop her hand and do the same to mine. Please let this be enough.

When I’m done I weave the needle back into my sleeve, just in case. “We could…” My eyes focus on the black arachnid that drops from the ceiling on its translucent string. Its beady black eyes locking on me.

“Le…zah…” Clara draws my name out and motions up. My gaze shifts from the disgusting creature, to her hand, to her face, and finally I understand what has her stuttering. Thousands of spiders crawl along the ceiling like a wave of blackness. For a moment, I freeze. One is manageable. Two is too many. So what I’m staring at now is completely petrifying.

I’m not sure who screams louder, me or Clara, but I do know even with her long legs, I run faster. My lungs hurt. My calves burn. Clara keeps a tight grip on my hand as I sprint down the dark hallway, my feet splashing in whatever muck covers the ground.

It feels like I run for miles before my pace slows to a walk, and I’m able to catch my breath. Although the air is cold, I’m sweating so much it’s actually refreshing. No matter what happens, going back is not an option.

Clara’s hand trembles in mine. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. I hate bugs.”

I shudder at the mention of them. Spiders technically aren’t insects, but whatever. “I never want to see anything like that again.”

“You don’t think there’ll be anything worse, do you?” she asks, echoing the same worry inside my head. That maybe this is just the beginning of things to come. But what good would it be to start freaking out about it now? “Do you think they were the poisonous kind?”

That thought makes me gag. Death by spider bite. Yuck. Could there be a more awful way to die? Probably, but… “I don’t want to think about it.” Or any other horrible things that could come our way. I dig my nails into my palm, trying to distract myself.

“Maybe we could talk about something else,” Clara suggests. She must need a distraction, too. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” It’s a strange question to start with. I’d expect she really wants to know what got me locked up here. It’s what I really want to know about her, but since I don’t have an answer, I don’t ask that question and instead respond to hers.

“A little brother.” Saying this leads my mind down paths I’m not ready to explore. Is he okay? Is Mom taking care of him? A heavy thickness clings to my throat. I have to force it away. And while I love my brother to pieces, that feeling of losing someone important is back—someone who I shared secrets and clothes with, dreams and fears—but I don’t tell Clara that. It’s too personal, and we aren’t friends. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Three older sisters. They all got into Educación de Primer Nivel.” The way she says it, it sounds like the best school in CalTes is the worst place in the world. It wasn’t that bad the year I was there, but when we moved, my school changed, too. Secretly, I was glad to be placed in the engineering trade school, and so far, what I learned there has come in handy more often than some “higher education.”

“…so I guess you don’t know what it’s like to be a decepción?”

I might not’ve heard all she said, but I do know what it’s like to be a disappointment. “Sure I do. When my dad…” disappeared. That’s the word that flashes in my mind because that’s how I remember it. Like, one minute he was there, and then he was gone, but I don’t know how to explain that. “…left,” I say instead, “I was the only one my mom and brother could depend on, and well, look where I am now.”

She squeezes my hand in the I’m-sorry-I-totally-get-you kind of way. Maybe Clara isn’t so bad even if we do have some serious differences. “Even though they weren’t always happy with me, I don’t know what it would be like not to have both parents together.”

Something heavy rolls around in my stomach. What would it have been like if Dad had still been there? Maybe none of this would’ve ever happened. But then again, maybe it wasn’t all his fault. “God, it smells bad,” I say, changing the subject.

“I’m trying not to think about it.” She fake gags. “You’re easier to talk to than I thought you’d be.” She doesn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

“And why’s that?” I don’t hide the annoyance in mine, either.

“No offense, but you don’t exactly look like the most approachable person.”

I can’t deny that the girl I’ve seen in the mirror doesn’t exactly fit the way I feel, but does that make me someone who isn’t a nice person? Someone you shouldn’t even try to talk to for three whole months? I have no idea how to respond, so I keep moving forward. “Where’s this supposed to lead us?”

“Um…” Clara draws out, and then she’s quiet. Too quiet. The only sound is our feet sloshing through the stale-smelling water.

“Clara?”

“I don’t know,” she squeaks out.

“You’re kidding me?”

“I thought it’d be some kind of passageway the WALTERs used for a quick escape. But this…” She kicks at a puddle. “I wasn’t expecting this. I’m sorry.” She does sound apologetic, but that doesn’t change anything.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say. Because we have to, but it’s still aggravating. This sucks. If I were a pessimist, I’d say we’re heading toward our death. But I can’t think that way. So I choose to ignore those thoughts and the churning in my stomach, and keep walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Clara’s a step behind me. Her hot breath clings to the back of my neck. Maybe it’s that my feet are aching, or I’m so sick of walking, but I can’t seem to take it anymore.

“Do you have to be so close?” I snap. It’s sharper than I mean it.

“I don’t want to lose you.” The hurt in her voice pierces me in the chest.

“You can’t lose me, you’re holding my hand.” I squeeze it twice to reassure us both.

“That’s another reason I’m walking so close.”

Her arms are as long as her legs, so it should be more than enough room to not keep stepping on my heels. I wish this horrible tunnel was wider so she could walk next to me, but that’d be too easy. I could just let go, but I don’t bring that up as an option. Maybe because holding her hand helps me not be as scared.

The ache in my legs gets stronger the farther we go, and my feet are wet and tired. Not sweaty wet; I’m ankle deep in this sludge and getting deeper. My feet slide against the bottom, making it hard to keep traction. That’s what I’m telling myself—it’s just dirty water—because I don’t think I could handle it if it was anything else. Going barefoot would be a better option, if I could only see what it is I’m trudging through, but it’s dark and thick. Every so often, stuff tangles around my legs that I have to shake free, so I keep the crappy shoes on my feet. They might not be much, but they’re at least protection from whatever could be down there.

The low growling from when I first closed the door gets more and more intense. Clara hums to herself. It’s probably to block out the eerie sound I seem to be leading us straight toward. Her voice goes up and down, getting louder then softer. Maybe if I could recognize the song, it wouldn’t grate my nerves so much. I should ask her to stop, but I don’t. The tune hits a low note, and for a moment the growling noise blares. The sound seems too deep and mechanical to be an animal, but a mechanical beast would be worse by far.

My pounding heart hasn’t slowed once. I’m tense, waiting for anything and everything to jump out at any moment. The eerie sounds, the thick substance I’m walking in, thinking about beasts that want to rip my eyes out. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I wonder how I ever got myself into this mess. Having three disgusting meals a day and my entire life controlled, for what? But I don’t know the answer, so I press forward.

Those images flash through my mind again. Rolls of wire. A soldering gun. My hand reaches toward something inside the back of an open WALTER. Something that shouldn’t be there. He spins around. His strong grasp crushes my wrist. Then there’s a piercing scream.

Except it isn’t in my head. It’s Clara. Her hand slips away from mine and water soaks everything, including me. It happens so fast, by the time I turn around, she’s gone.

The glow from the walls isn’t bright enough to see where she went, either. “Clara… Clara…?” Holy Mother Mary. Where did she go? What happened? I drop to my knees and run my hand through the water, down to the slimy floor, searching for any trace of her. All I come back with is sludge. “Clara!” I yell, desperate for her to respond. I struggle to take each breath. What the hell happened to her? No. She can’t be gone. I can’t fail her like I have everyone else.

Each second takes an eternity. The lights seem dimmer. The darkness, darker. The growling roars in my ears, more deafening than ever. Where the hell is Clara? Oh God. I wish she was still humming that annoying song. If they could just suck her away, what are they going to do to me?

A gasp of air and coughing lets me take a breath of my own. Then Clara’s dark silhouette is there in the distance. “It—got—in—my—mouth.” She gags.

I rush to her side, and my knee lands on something sharp, but I don’t care. She’s here. She isn’t dead, and maybe we can still get out of this tunnel. “What happened?”

She flings something off her hand, and it splashes to my left. “I can’t do this anymore.” She sounds defeated, but we’re too early in this journey to already be quitting.

“We don’t really have much of a choice,” I tell her, even though she has to already know. Her expiration date was sooner than mine, and now, since we left, I’m sure both our dates are up.

“We’ve been walking forever. I’m hungry. It smells. And I’m covered in nasty— I don’t know what. Maybe we should…”

“Maybe we should what? Give up? Turn around? Go back? For what? What do you think they’re gonna do to us if they find us?” This is our only chance. Escape is our only option.

“We should’ve been out of here by now. It wasn’t supposed to take us into the depths of hell.” She sounds angry, and that’s better than defeated.

“It’s too frigid to be hell.” The air has gotten colder and colder, and now that I’m wet, I’m freezing. “We can’t go back.”

“I know.” She sounds sad, almost disappointed. She won’t be when she gets out.

“Here.” I reach my hand toward her.

She grabs it, and together we’re both able to stand. “I’m cold.”

“If we start moving you’ll…”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I stop.

Stop moving.

Stop breathing.

Clara stops, too. Her grip on me tightens.

Now I’m shaking for a completely different reason.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I stand still, not making any sound. Except for the chattering of my teeth, it’s quiet.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Did you hear that?” Clara asks.

Thank God she heard it, too. A voice, then, like someone yelling. And even though I couldn’t make out what they said, it’s the first sound of life that isn’t an angry, growling…whatever. “Let’s go.” It could mean we’re finally coming to the end of this passageway. That there’s an actual chance there’s a way out.

Keeping a tight grip on Clara, I break into a run. It isn’t very fast, since the floor is still slick, and it feels like I’m going uphill. The water—or whatever it is—gets lower and lower until I’m finally back on dry land and there’s a light. In the distance. An actual light ahead of me.

The thump, thump, thumping has stopped, and the growling is getting stronger, but I keep running. Its sound isn’t as menacing. In a strange way, the closer I get it reminds me of the hum of an engine. A sound that calms as much as excites me.

I’m panting hard when we arrive at an old rusty door with a knob. An actual knob, not a keypad or scanner. I’ve only seen pictures of them, never one in real life. Sweat slides down the side of my face. I place my hand on the door. It’s warm and pieces of rust flake off under my fingers. Something about the way it smells…old metal…it stirs something deep inside, a memory of something that’s just out of reach.

Clara pulls my arm. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” she whispers.

“We can’t exactly go back the way we came.” Not to mention that, sooner or later, they’re going to realize we’re gone, if they haven’t figured it out yet already, and they’ll be looking for us. I’m hoping whatever I did to the bracelet is enough to keep them from finding us, but we aren’t safe until I get these awful things off.

She glances behind us. She has to know I’m right.

I reach toward the knob. “I’ll go first.” My fingers close in on their target, and I quickly tap it, making sure it won’t shock the hell out of me. When it doesn’t, I grip it firmly, turn, and push the door open.

The growling gets louder, like this room is the source. It looks almost exactly like the one Clara and I shared for the last three months, with one exception. Sitting in a chair, with a chain attached to her ankle, linking her to the wall, is a girl with bright red hair, slightly sunken cheeks, and lots of freckles that contrast her ghostly white skin.

Number Twelve.

She isn’t dead after all.