The One Safe Place (10 page)

She turned back abruptly to the paper she’d been studying. “You were brought up on a farm.”

He nodded. It seemed the Administrator didn’t ask questions. She just made statements. Perhaps this was because she already knew the answers, Devin thought. Or perhaps she was simply not very interested.

“Remarkable,” she repeated. “It appears you have extremely unusual sense perception. Blending of just two senses is rare, but in your case all five appear to overlap to some degree. This level of synesthesia occurs in only one out of ten million individuals.”

Devin hadn’t eaten breakfast and he was starting to feel faint.

“What’s syn . . . synesthesia?”

The Administrator dipped her fingers into the bowl of marbles on the desk and stirred them with a noise like teeth chattering on a cold night.

“The way I look, for example,” she said. “It causes you to hear a sound.”

“Tight and high,” Devin said automatically. “Like something thin stretched out. But how do you know all this about me?”

She stared at him for a second. Her eyes were the only thing about her face that didn’t shine. They were flat black, and they reflected nothing.

“Your brain was scanned,” she said casually. “In the elevator coming up here.”

“I saw a light. But I didn’t know what it was.”

“Of course not. The Home is designed to look old-fashioned. The furniture, the decor. The same goes for the entertainment. The pony rides, the carousel, the tree houses, the food. No detail has been overlooked for our clients. It’s exactly what they remember.” She lifted her chin proudly. “My father planned it that way.”

“Is your father here?”

She glanced away. “No. My father is a genius,” she announced. “He lives alone and rarely ventures out. His time cannot be wasted on ordinary things. Idle chitchat, the keeping of dates, the dull demands of friends and family—one cannot expect them of a genius. He is above such things, and rightly so.”

Devin was feeling fainter than ever. The curved wall of the room seemed to ripple slightly.

“You said . . . clients,” he said. “Who are they?”

She frowned very slightly. “Visitors” she said. “I meant the Visitors.”

“The old people? I saw some yesterday in the gym.”

The Administrator smiled to herself.

The air prickled and shimmered before Devin’s eyes. He leaned forward, his head down, his breath coming quick and shallow. “Could I just have a glass of water?” he whispered.

She waved her arm. “Yes, all right, go. Get what you need. But remember that you have to eat more. I need you to be healthy, Devin. You’re the most unusual child I have ever come across. I’m saving you for something special.”

The elevator whisked Devin down with a long hiss like the sound of breath being expelled. In the hallway below, he half ran toward the front door, desperate for air. It was early afternoon and very hot. He stood still for a moment or two, leaning against the wall of the tower, trying to catch his breath.

He didn’t know what she’d meant by those last words. Or by anything else she’d said. None of it made sense.

As he stood there, he noticed something by his foot, a tiny scrap, gray and curled. He peered closer and saw it was the body of a baby bird. There was another one not far away and then a third, lying close to the wall, in the shadow of the stone. He looked up. The birds must be nesting in the cracks and crevices of the tower. But there was not enough space there for all the hatchlings. They must jostle and shove in a frantic fight for life, he thought.

The birds were not singing at all. They were shrieking.

Devin turned blindly and ran.

Nine

DEVIN RAN ACROSS THE
courtyard, through an archway, and down a path. He ran fast, thinking only of finding Kit, his breath fighting his throat. A boy was kicking a ball around on the grass, passing it skillfully from foot to foot, flicking it up to bounce against his knee and then his head. Devin recognized him from the day before; Ansel, the boy in the pool with the red water gun.

When he saw Devin coming, he caught the ball neatly and jogged over to the edge of the field. He stopped and gave a friendly smile.

“I’m Ansel,” he said, tucking the ball under his arm. “You’re new, right?”

Devin nodded, still panting.

“You like soccer?”

“I never played before.”

Ansel looked amazed. “For real? I was hoping for some shooting practice.”

“You’re really good,” Devin told him.

Ansel’s face lit up with shy pride. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s the only thing I am good at. I was useless at school. But my dad taught me how to play. In the evenings, you know? Just him and me . . .” He smiled, a little sadly. “If you think I’m good, you should have seen my dad. He could’ve played in front of the world.”

“In front of the world?”

Ansel nodded. “They used to, you know. Can you imagine?”

“Where’s your dad now?”

“He got sick,” Ansel said. “He didn’t have enough money for the medicine . . .” His voice fell away.

“I’m sorry,” Devin said. “Really sorry.”

“Thanks.”

They stood in silence.

“Have you seen Kit?” Devin finally asked. “She’s new too.”

“I don’t know. What does she look like?”

“You saw her yesterday,” Devin said. “At the pool . . .”

A spasm crossed Ansel’s face. He shook his head.

“But you did!” Devin insisted. “You looked right at us. You were standing in the water and you were—”

“I don’t remember!” Ansel burst out. He had flushed a deep red and his hands were clenched into fists. He suddenly looked almost overwhelmed with rage.

“You’re not supposed to look!” he shouted. “You’re not supposed to tell!”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Devin stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

“I just want some shooting practice, that’s all!” Ansel continued furiously. “I just want to play soccer!” He gave the ball a kick so powerful that it flew into the air and smacked against the goalpost with a noise like a gunshot.

“I’m sorry,” Devin repeated. He turned and ran back to the courtyard.

Kit wasn’t in her room. He stood for a second or two, sick with disappointment. Her bed had been slept in but not made up. Half a dozen dresses lay strewn over it. Devin knelt and looked underneath the bed. The box containing her collection of dollhouse raries was still there. That meant she was here too—somewhere. He got to his feet and went to the window. Lunch must be over by now, but maybe she was still in the dining room.

Kit wasn’t in the dining hall or the pool or the gym. Devin hurried along, searching everywhere, his body drenched with sweat. Under the shade of a tree he spotted a small, familiar shape and rushed forward.

“Frisker!”

The puppy raised his head eagerly, already knowing his name. His tiny stump of a tail wagged enthusiastically. Devin scooped him up in his arms.

“Where’s Kit?” he whispered, pressing his face against the puppy’s warm side. “Why did she leave you here?”

He walked on, Frisker trotting by his side. The sun dipped toward late afternoon. At last he found her in a little meadow, sitting by herself in the long grass. She was half-turned away from him, her long red hair falling in a gleaming sheet over the side of her face.

“Kit!”

Frisker whimpered, hesitating. Devin ran forward. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

She held a small mirror in one hand and was staring at herself, lost in concentration.

“Kit?”

She looked up at last, smiling, seeming bewildered. It was her; he knew every freckle on her face. But her eyes were wrong. It wasn’t the color or the shape. He couldn’t find words for what it was, yet somehow it changed the look of her more than any bruise or burn. He took a horrified step backwards.

“Is that your doggy?” she asked, in a soft, dazed voice.

She bent her head without waiting for an answer. Her eyes returned to the mirror and she began running her fingers over her face, slowly, very slowly, as if uncertain of its shape.

Devin had been sitting hunched up by the gates to the large meadow for a long time when Luke found him.

“Hey, buddy, you all right?”

Devin didn’t answer. Luke squatted beside him and shook his head. “Stupid question. Stupid. Saw Kit, didn’t you? That’s why we don’t look . . .”

Devin lifted his head. “What’s going on here, Luke? What’s happening?” His voice rose with panic. “You have to tell me!”

“All I know is they do weird things to kids.” Luke said. “I don’t know why they’re doing it and I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to figure it out.”

“Who’s doing it?”

“Who do you think?”

Devin remembered the sound of the Administrator’s fingers as they stirred the bowl of marbles.

Your brain was scanned in the elevator coming up here.

“Roman’s part of it too,” Luke said. “He goes into the city to find new kids and brings them back here. I hate him almost more than I hate the Administrator.”

He rose to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you something.”

Luke led Devin back past the soccer field, taking the path that ran by the side of the swimming area. The pool was empty of people, the water sparkling in the setting sun. It was quiet. Luke stopped. They were at the path Devin had seen the day before, the one that ran between the low, knotted trees.

“We never go down here,” Luke said, “unless we have to.”

It was darker there, the way shadowed by the trees. Devin had never seen anything like them before; their branches were so interlocked that it was impossible to tell where one tree ended and another began. He followed Luke uncertainly. The path continued for a hundred yards and then opened out onto another courtyard. It was much smaller than the main one and contained a single building.

Luke stopped twenty feet away and stood looking up at it.

“This is where it happens,” he said. “We call it the Place.”

At first glance, the building looked like all the others at the Home. It was made of the same yellow-colored stone, and the same ivy crept over its weathered surface. But there was one difference. Only the third story had windows. Below was simply empty wall, apart from the narrow entrance. It made the place look odd, unfinished, like a face left blank where the nose and cheeks should be.