The Cage(27)

CORA FOUND LEON SITTING on the movie theater steps, head cradled in his hands. “Leon, you can’t just run off. We need to decide what we’re going to do.”

“We’re going to die, that’s what.”

She paused. She’d seen him angry, and impatient, but never depressed. “We’re not going to die. The Kindred brought us here, which means they can take us back. It’s nonsense, what they said about humans destroying the Earth. Humans have been polluting for centuries. It’ll take aeons before we actually destroy it—if we ever do.”

He tossed a stone from the potted marigolds into the grass. “You remind me of my sister, you know that? She has hair just like yours. She never gives it a rest either—always telling me I run from my problems.”

She sat next to him. “Your sister has blond hair?”

He snorted. “She dyes it. And she’s got about fifty pounds on you, but yeah. Long blond hair. Same annoying way of giving me a hard time.” He tossed a pebble at her foot, not hard enough to hurt. The others’ voices were barely audible from the town square. “I can’t stop thinking about that girl. The dead one. How she and I were supposed to be together . . . or whatever.”

Sweat trickled down his face. He tossed another pebble.

“Do you have a girlfriend at home?” Cora asked softly.

He snorted. “I’m not exactly boyfriend material, sweetheart. Dad’s in prison. My two older brothers too. My little sister, Ellie, made me swear I wouldn’t end up like them. She was the only one who believed I had a chance to do something other than getting locked up.” He glanced at the closest black window. “I guess that’s what happened anyway, eh? How ironic.”

Cora toyed with a pebble. “I’m glad she believed in you.”

“Well, it didn’t do any good. I never listened to her. I dropped out of school and took a job working for my brother. He smuggles electronics from China—among other merchandise. Black market stuff. Just a matter of time before we were both caught.”

The pebble slipped from her fingers. “Oh.”

“I worry about her.” His voice was quieter. “Ellie. If she’s okay.”

Cora’s heart clenched. She liked this side of him, the one that cared about his little sister. She almost told him she’d been locked up too, but stopped. Her father’s voice was too fresh. “We’ll never speak of what happened,” he had said. “Not to the media, not even to each other. You’re not an ex-con, you’re our daughter.”

But she was an ex-con. That’s what they never understood.

She stood and tugged on Leon’s massive arm. “Come on.”

When they returned to the others, Nok was twisting the pink strand of her hair nervously. “You really think we can go back?” she asked.

“Of course we can’t!” Rolf sputtered, pushing at the place where his glasses should reside. “That could be the reason they killed the other girl—for all we know, she was trying to escape. They gave us three rules. That’s all. We should at least try to obey. There might not even be any walls or exits, anyway.”

“There is an exit,” Cora said. “The Caretaker called it a fail-safe.”

Rolf shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They’d just see us through those panels and stop us.”

“Why do you want to stay here so badly?” Cora snapped.

He blinked like she had slapped him. “It isn’t about staying here,” he said. “It’s about staying alive.”

Staying alive. Cora had experience with staying alive. At Bay Pines, girls made makeshift knives out of toothbrushes. Pummeled each other with pillowcases full of loose change. She’d tried to banish such memories, like her father had said, but some things were harder to forget.

Maybe she shouldn’t try so hard to forget.

“I might have an idea,” she said hesitantly. “The Kindred are stronger than us, but not invincible. The Caretaker breathes oxygen, which means he could choke. He had a bump on his nose like it had been broken. He’s not flawless.”

“What are we going to hurt them with?” Rolf asked. “Meat loaf? Every inch of this place has been designed like a padded cell.”

“There are weapons.” She leaned in and dropped her voice. “Remember those toys we saw in the shops? The Caretaker said they were authentic artifacts from Earth. That means they’re real, not soft like everything else. Those croquet mallets could inflict serious damage. We could use the guitar strings as a garrote.”