Robison Wells - Variant

Mason pulled a sweater on, getting dressed for the party. “I barely remember the teams. It’s been too long, I guess.”

I rolled onto my side. I need medicine.

“I’m not going to be here long enough to forget,” I said, more to myself than to him.

I tried to sleep, but it just wasn’t coming. I hurt too much to get comfortable, and my brain kept replaying my escape attempt, trying to think of a new solution to getting over the wall. I could make a rope. It wouldn’t be hard to use the bedsheets. For the first time ever I could see how that movie cliche got started—it was by far the easiest substitute for rope I could think of. But then what would I do with it? The brick wall was fairly smooth—there wouldn’t be anything for a grappling hook to hold on to, even if I could make one.

I could chop down a tree, maybe. Lean it against the wall and climb it like a ladder. That’d be easier with more people, but no one seemed to be stepping up to the plate to help me, even the V’s.

Maybe I could dig under the wall. The groundskeeping sheds had to have shovels. But then I’d have to persuade Havoc to help me. Or break in.

I got out of bed. There was no use trying to sleep anymore. I moved to the window and checked my watch in the pale moonlight. It was just after three o’clock.

There was haze out in the forest, just enough to blur the trees and hills. I wanted it to be smoke. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and where there’s fire there’re people. I thought I’d seen smoke when I was up in the tree—maybe there really was someone out there.

But tonight it was impossible to tell. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all—just the darkness and a dirty window.

Mason was sleeping soundly in the top bunk, snoring enough that I could tell he wasn’t aware I was up. He’d come back an hour ago. I’d heard all the V’s come back from the party, laughing and happy, but there hadn’t been any sounds for the last thirty minutes.

I checked the closets to see if anything had been delivered, but nothing had changed. My paint—splattered sweats still sat on the floor, and my rumpled shirts were on the hangers.

My fingers ran along the edge of the closet, trying to feel where the permanent wall ended and the elevator began. There was a tiny gap, and I thought I almost felt a little breeze. It might have been my imagination.

One thing I hadn’t done yet was try to leave the dorms at night. I’d checked the rules and there was nothing in there saying we weren’t allowed to, but I wondered whether the door would even unlock for me. Like all the other doors, each dorm room had a sensor and a deadbolt.

My room door has to be unlocked, I reasoned. In case we need to go to the bathroom.

Sure enough, the knob turned in my hand, and the cooler air of the corridor swept in as I peeked outside. The only light I could see, other than from the window at the end of the hall, was the narrow glowing crack coming from the bottom of the bathroom door.

I left my room, wearing just a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt. The hardwood was like ice under my feet, but my cautious footsteps were silent—the wood didn’t creak or groan at all under my weight.

There were no sounds other than the hiss of a radiator and the occasional snore that was loud enough to be heard all the way out here.

Pausing at the junction where the Society and Havoc hallways branched off the main one, I listened for any others who might be awake, but heard nothing. In the dark, I could barely make out the clutter that hung from Havoc’s ceiling.

I shouldn’t be out here alone. The thought kept nagging me, but I pushed it away. The other gangs didn’t like me, but they were all sleeping.

There was a noise on the Society’s side—nothing loud, just a little click. No lights were on under their doors.

I continued down the hallway, passing dozens of empty dorm rooms. They were closed, but not locked. I entered one and walked to its window to see what the view was like. It looked down on the front side of the building. The narrow road through the woods looked black against the surrounding grass. I couldn’t see the moon from where I was, but the stars were brilliant, just as they’d been the night before.

Not that a beautiful sky makes up for anything.

I left the window and went back into the hallway.

Something about being out at night felt good. It was what I used to do to get away—go out, walk the streets, be alone. I wished I could go outside now. I couldn’t even open the window.

I was almost to the door that left the dorm when I heard the familiar buzz and click. But the sound wasn’t coming from just that door—it was loud, coming from every door, all at once. I grabbed the nearest doorknob. Locked.

Voices were coming from back down the corridor—angry voices that were trying unsuccessfully to be quiet.

I ran the last few yards to the exit door, but it didn’t unlock for me. I was trapped, everything locked all around me. Except…

The room I’d just been in was still open—I hadn’t shut the door, so it couldn’t have locked. I ran back, my bare feet silent on the solid floor. I darted inside and swung the door almost closed—but held it open an inch, so that it couldn’t lock with me inside. Then I listened.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” a voice called, playful and evil.

It was still far away. Someone must have heard me. Oakland wanted revenge, and he knew I was alone.

There were more voices now—muffled shouts. People were pounding on their walls. Oakland couldn’t lock all these doors. No one could do it remotely like this.

No one except the school.

The voices weren’t getting any closer. I opened the door a little wider and peeked into the hallway.

I could see dark silhouettes at the junction.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.” I knew the voice. I’d heard it before. Was it Skiver? Oakland?

The shadows were coming out of the Society’s side and going down Havoc’s side.

“Open up, Walnut,” the voice said. It was Dylan. The Society was going after Havoc in the middle of the night. And the school had locked all the doors.

I wanted to get closer to see what was going on, but I didn’t dare.

The pounding sounded like an earthquake now, as Havoc tried to break out of their rooms.

“Wallace Jackson,” a new voice said. Isaiah. His words were loud and emotionless. “You have broken the rules, and we are here to collect you for detention. We have orders from the school.”

Someone screamed something, but I couldn’t make it out—it was probably Walnut behind his door.

“We are simply fulfilling our contract,” Isaiah continued. “You knew the rules, you knew the consequences, and you chose to disobey. This is not personal.”

“You bet it isn’t,” Dylan cackled gleefully. “I won’t enjoy it at all.”

Half a dozen kids were laughing, gloating about whatever would happen to Walnut.

There were more muffled shouts, and now I could barely even understand Isaiah over the pounding.

With fingers shaking from fear, I examined the door I was hiding behind. It was heavy, thick wood with steel deadbolts and large brass hinges. These things were like prison bars—they were made to trap people in their rooms. Walnut was on his own—his was probably the only one unlocked.

I wanted to run out there and stop them, to punch in Dylan’s laughing teeth and smash Isaiah’s head against the wall. We were all prisoners together—why couldn’t they realize that?

It was impossible to tell what was going on now. There was too much noise, too much yelling, too much pounding. I listened and watched, but couldn’t see anything.

And then there was a crash, and Walnut’s voice was loud and angry. He swore and screamed. Someone was with him—his roommate, whoever that was—and he was shrieking, too. But there were only the two of them, and I’d seen at least a dozen shadows in the hall. The Society had more than thirty members, and I bet all the guys were there now, helping to subdue Walnut.