Escape from Harrizel (57 page)

Many have chosen not to sleep in their
rooms, a testament to their new found freedom. They stay with
others in their bunkers or, as most are, down in the Auditorium,
like its one massive sleepover. I’m not in the mood to be with
anyone and even though my room has been my prison cell here this
whole time, it’s still
mine
. Heading down the corridor for
my bunk, I stop.

Reid’s there, outside the door, waiting. My
heart pauses, all air gone. Are we doing this
now
? Can’t it
wait a night? Like everything else? I reason that it’s probably
better to get it over with faster. Reaching the door I stop and
force a smile.“No sirolla?”

He pulls it from his pocket, holding the
marble-sized sphere between two fingers. “Didn’t want to be
rude.”

“So you’re learning?”

“Guess it’s never too late, right?” his
mouth curves into the grin that melts me. He glances down, eyeing
the bandage. “How’s your arm
really
?” he steps closer,
igniting the familiar heat, “and don’t give me a Pratt answer. I’m
serious.”

“Hurts like a bitch,” I find myself
laughing. I try to calm the real pain raging through my veins. Does
he know what it’s doing to me? Being this close and not being able
to touch him? “I’ll survive.”

“I’m sure you will.”

What’s taking so long? Just do it
already. Tell me you choose
her
. Tell me.

“Anyway…” he clears his throat. “You can
always put some more Vilbrees on it.”

“I did.”

“But…” and now he’s stalling, “it can only
do so much. Pratt was right—you’re lucky it didn’t slice off your
arm. It’s going to leave a nasty scar.”

“Well…” I search for an appropriate
response, “thanks for cheering me up.”

Do it. Just do it already.

“Fallon…” he leans closer.

“Please just… I can’t,” I inhale, doing
everything in my system not to break down.

His brows furrow at my response as he shifts
just inches closer—my heart threatening to explode from this agony.
Can’t we make this quick? As painless as possible? Why is he
dragging it out? He shifts closer but I put a hand up to stop him,
panicked.

“Let me…”

“Please…” I whisper, aching. “Just…”

“This is impossible to understand,” he runs
his hands through his hair. “You’ve got to give me… time to figure
it out.”

What does
that
mean?

“You need…
time
?” I ask. Something
about that sounds hopeful but the look in his eye says
otherwise.

“To adjust. Everything’s just so fresh right
now, like it was yesterday. There’s that life,” he gestures to me,
“and there’s this one.”

A painful spark of possibility emerges.

“Can you do that?” he continues, his eyes
cast downward. “Can you give me some time?”

“For what?”

He wants to explain but doesn’t. Instead, he
reaches into his pocket and my eyes drop to the Callix he’s
withdrawing. He leans in and my heart stops, my body growing rigid.
He slips the Callix into my hand and lightly brushes his lips
against my cheek with the softest of kisses. I’m melting, my legs
weak beneath me. Moving his mouth over my ear, he whispers in a
language I don’t know, but somehow, deeply recognize.

“
Maya vu saplora.”

I want to turn and kiss him but I can’t. I
can’t even move. Reid closes my hand around the Callix and without
another word, pulls away, leaving me in silence.

He walks down the corridor without turning
around. Not when he gets to the stairs, nor as he descends,
disappearing below. I gulp, opening my hand to his Callix, my heart
thundering at its sight. Leaning back on my door, I replay the
whole thing, the intimacy of his touch, his words and this—this
token. But I don’t understand. He told me he can’t… and now he’s
giving me his Callix? Does that mean he’s staying? Or needs time to
decide
if
he’s staying?

It’s too much to digest right now, too much
to think about after everything that’s happened. The only thing I
can handle is sleep, drifting away from this place where the
suffocating squeeze in my chest will fade and in its absence,
hopefully will be peace.

Bringing Reid’s Callix with me into bed, I
climb beneath the covers, blacking out the moment my head hits the
pillow.

***

We’ve been working all morning and finally,
now, in the early afternoon, we’re finished with it—the death
count. Honestly, it’s better than I expected: one hundred and
thirty-two humans dead, thirty-five Dofinikes in total. But like
Vix, some people are still missing. Like Walker and Able. Their
bodies haven’t been accounted for and they’re definitely
not
around here so…have they escaped somehow? And to where?

We give the numbers to Sampson and Clarence
who have everyone gathered in the Auditorium. Most people arrive
fresh from the Bathing Bubble, taking advantage of it as often as
possible now. After a morning of moving bodies, the stench of death
clings to your clothes and no one wants to carry that scent into
the afternoon.

There’s a little less than three hundred
people here, some bandaged, while others hobble to one another with
makeshift canes. Reid stands with the Rogues and Scouts,
surrounding the glowing trunk, the other survivors just behind
them. Clarence and Sampson stand amongst the glowing green, back to
their human form.

“Please,” Sampson says, his voice echoing
through the hall as everyone grows silent. “I want to thank you all
for your hard work. I’m sure these past few days have not been the
easiest you’ve had to deal with. But you fought well and in that
fight you persisted. And here we are, at the other side, the moment
many of you have been eagerly awaiting—when you find out about
going home.”

It’s as if he’s said the magic phrase
because the room inhales in one simultaneous breath.

“You’ll be returned to the exact moment you
were taken—the moment just before Clarence appeared. You will have
no recollection of him or of anything here. It’ll be as if…”

“…as if it never happened,” Clarence
continues. “No memories whatsoever. You’ll be there in that last
moment and you’ll start again, continuing on as usual, without the
slightest idea anything happened. Once we take you back,” Clarence
inhales, locking eyes as he scans the crowd. “Harrizel will cease
to exist for you, forever.”

Whispers erupt as Sampson and Clarence
retreat, just enough room for Tucker who suddenly appears atop the
trunk with them.

“I’m sure by now you’ve all made your mind
up about going home. But for those still unsure or for the other
five percents out there, let me assure you—you have a place here.
We have a small human guild which will continue on with the Arizals
and we welcome anyone interested.”

He nods to the other two before jumping down
to the Rogues again.

“We ask that you spend one more night here
at which time tomorrow, Clarence and I will begin retuning you
home. We’ll go by names—
real
last names—and it shouldn’t
take more than a day’s time,” he begins to pace, cuffing his wrists
at the small of his back. “Your clothes will be returned to you
this afternoon, along with any former possessions still intact. Be
ready when it’s your turn—we’re starting early, before sunrise with
A-C,” he says, as I detect an excited smile quickly sweeping
Clark’s face, “If you intend to go home, please be on time.”

I pass the rest of the day between the
solitude of my bunker and strolling the jungle’s edge to peek past
the net of ivy. Back and forth, back and forth, for hours and
hours, peering into the lush fauna, to all the things this jungle’s
been to me. An escape. A nightmare. And most recently, a
warzone.

I’m tempted to venture back, but I don’t.
Sampson says there will be plenty of time for that later, when
we’ve finished returning the humans home. Once we’re back on
schedule with the Arizals, we’ll be able to leave at our will, once
Blovid sends his secured location. Until then—everyone needs to
stay at the Castle or risk going missing.

“Who knows what’s still out there lurking,”
he says, “besides, we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

I do as he says, always wishing for Ellae’s
comforting arms to protect me as my left hand softly grazes the
closest strands of foliage—tips of the giant tongue-sized leaves. I
barely feel them.

Can you do that? Can you give me some
time?

If all he needs is time, that should mean
he’s staying. Or that he needs time to choose. Her or me. That life
or this one. Andrew… or Reid?

How is this all going to turn out? Where do
we go from here? There are too many things to have answered and all
I want to do is escape into Ellae. I need something comfortable and
soothingly familiar and Granny Ruth isn’t here to make it better.
And I need her. Even as Fallon, I need her. Trailing outside the
jungle’s barrier—the best I can do—I wait. And wonder.

***

The next day is here and I awake on my own.
I’ve been half awake for hours, unable to drift into the sleep I’m
still so eagerly craving. Just too anxious about the day I guess,
about the weight it’ll bring as I watch each of the ninety-five
percent leave one by one. By the end of the day, the Castle will be
lighter by more than half of its human population —who knows, maybe
more.

The small window in my bunker still shines
with star-light. It’s probably just before dawn, when they said
they’d be starting. A shuffle of feet scurry outside my door and I
know they’re heading outside, the first lot to bid the rest of this
place farewell forever.

I’m not sure why, but I have to see. To
escape this pretend sleep and face the day. Going to join the
shuffle outside, I realize I never changed back into my other
clothes. Out of habit, or, due largely to the exhausted stupor that
was last night, I slinked back into my scrubs by mistake. Throwing
them off with near malice—as if it stings to the touch—the garments
fly to the floor, discarded. I grab my gray and black baseball tee
and pull it on over my head. I step into my jeans and put my
Converse on next. Tying my laces in rapid haste, I jump up and head
out, joining the skinny herd of travelers.
Not going to watch
all day
, I tell myself,
just the first few.

I’m not expecting a large crowd, but when I
find around thirty bodies in the lot, I’m taken aback. These can’t
all be people with last names A-C. I do a quick scan and find Pratt
hugging a girl to the far right as Clark rolls on his heels not too
far away. He’s watching Clarence and Sampson with dedicated focus.
The rest stand huddled, grouped together in their own clothing
which vary from pajamas, school clothes and work uniforms.

I feel I should go over and say something to
Clark—goodbye, probably—but I don’t. My feet remain planted and I
realize that I don’t want to say goodbye. I’d rather leave it on
the last note, as if we could pick up again, whenever we like.

With the sky still a deep bluish-black and
the pink warmth of the sun mere minutes away, I find refuge in the
familiar stroll from yesterday. Crossing everyone, I leave the
gate, keeping to the jungle’s edge, following it. A protective coat
of solitude forms, separating me from the others but still, I
watch.

At Clarence’s command, everyone lines
themselves up eagerly. Sampson motions for Pratt’s friend to step
closer and offering Pratt a final squeeze, she complies. After
taking in the sight of the Castle one final time, she turns,
obeying Sampson. Grasping hands, the pair shoot into the sky so
quickly I think I’ve missed it. Clarence motions an eager Clark
closer and the two grab hands as well. I take a breath, watching
the elation on Clark’s face until they spring up, disappearing from
sight.

He’s gone.

I pace for a few hours, from one end of the
Castle to the other, watching the departures leave one by one.
Always the same excited face, the instant flight up and then the
five minute lapse until Sampson or Clarence returns alone.

I was only going to watch the first few but
there’s something addictive about it. About the unmasked jubilance
as each person steps up and offers their hand. As if seeing the
elation on each leaving face will make it bearable when the time
comes to watch him go.

The sun’s hanging on the opposite side of
the sky and they’re finishing with the P’s. Clarence and Sampson
just took a break about twenty minutes ago so they’ll move right
along without interruption. Nearly onto the R’s, my eyes find Reid
immediately, over by the Water Pole, standing with Tucker. I’ve
kept him in my view since this morning when he emerged just minutes
after me. He knows where I am as well, having snuck a few glances
my way when he hoped I’d be watching the departures.

Sampson addresses the humble crowd as he
does with every letter, pronouncing it loud enough so everyone can
hear. “And now for the
R’s
, please.”

My heart races, my eyes flying to Reid
again.

This is it.

But he remains where he is, standing next to
Tucker, his arms folded over his chest and watching the others step
forward. The R’s line themselves up and for a quick second, my
thoughts turn to Raj. A rush of guilt pours over me knowing that if
I could’ve helped her—could’ve
saved
her—she’d be here too,
waiting to go home. But Raj’s parents will never see her again.
They’ll never know what actually happened to her.

One by one, each of the R’s are taken back,
the line growing shorter and shorter. My heart thumps rapidly—the
worse pain ever—as only a handful remain. Maybe Reid is saving
himself for last, paying the final compliment to let others go
before him. Clutching his Callix in my hand like a lifesaver, I
hold my breath and watch as the last person flies into the sky with
Clarence.