

Reunion at Walnut Cherryville

By

Lauren Salem

**Reunion at Walnut Cherryville**

Lauren Salem

Copyright 2013 by Lauren Salem

Smashwords Edition

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Johnny

Chapter 2: Vincent

Chapter 3: Laura

Chapter 4: Collins

Chapter 5: Johnny

Chapter 6: Vincent

Chapter 7: Laura

Chapter 8: Collins

Chapter 9: Johnny

Chapter 10: Vincent

Chapter 11: Laura

Chapter 12: Johnny

Chapter 13: Laura

Chapter 14: Collins

Chapter 15: Vincent

Chapter 16: Collins

Chapter 17: Johnny

Chapter 18: Laura

Chapter 19: Collins

Chapter 20: Johnny
Chapter 21: Vincent
Chapter 22: Johnny

Chapter 23: Collins

Chapter 24: Laura

Chapter 25: Collins

Chapter 26: Vincent

Chapter 27: Laura

Chapter 28: Johnny

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my sister, Julia Salem, for always enthusiastically volunteering to be the first person to read my stories. She is a great listener and contributed many of her own ideas to this book, which made it what it is today. Her editing and marketing efforts are much appreciated.

I also want to give a special thanks to my friends: Anne Janecek, for bringing Walnut Cherryville to life with her spectacular illustrations, as well as Linda Rutledge and Erin Teeple for being my constructive critics and editors.

Lastly, I thank my parents for their patience, support, and encouragement.

#

Chapter 1: Johnny

Counselor Hank was a persistent man invested in correcting the lives of troubled teenagers. Behind his black, rectangle-rimmed glasses, fancy suit, and British accent, he was just a multiple choice test asking me the same question in different ways twenty million times. When he invited my friends and me to a late lunch, I felt like it was a trap to continue our counseling sessions, but we agreed to it under one condition: he must bring a lady friend from the other side of the fence. I would do anything to get out of Sonoran Correctional High School, a boarding school for juvenile delinquents, who otherwise would have faced jail time for their crimes. When I was ten years old, I murdered someone, and then my biological parents got divorced. Shortly after the murder, my father died, but I didn't think about that too much anymore.

"I wonder who he's gonna bring," Collins mumbled while brushing his teeth. "She better be hot. I hope he brings that girl with the dark eyeliner, the one who always presses her boobs up against the fence at lunchtime."

Everyone looked forward to lunchtime, not because we got to eat or because we didn't have to sit (sleep) through boring lectures, but because this was the only time of day we got to see any girls. The school was divided by gender with the correctional school for girls on the other side of the fence. Every day we had a choice to eat either inside or outside. I know for a fact that about 99.9 percent of us chose to eat outside so we could watch the girls eat in very suggestive ways. Laura, the girl Collins was in love with, would press her boobs up against the fence and let us touch them for five dollars a feel. Many girls would let us kiss them if we gave them three dollars, or they would kiss or feel each other, but I just preferred to watch whatever I could see from a distance. Sometimes, if the boys got too close without paying, the girls yelled at them and stopped the show until they paid. Those girls would run my pockets dry, so I chose my seat carefully. An arm's length distance from the fence, also known as front row, cost two dollars for guys who were just watching. Second-class seats were at the tables, and those were free. Rain or shine, the show always went on at lunchtime while the teachers were bitching about us in the teacher's lounge.

"I think I know that girl from somewhere," Vincent added as he applied a heavy layer of black eyeliner. Vincent was the Goth of the group who always dressed in tight black clothes, which contrasted against his frail, pale-skinned body and blue eyes. He used coal-colored dye for his root touch-ups every Sunday, so no one would notice that he really had blonde hair.

"Did you bang her?" Collins asked.

"No."

"How could you know her and not bang her?"

Vincent rolled his eyes, but I laughed as I slicked back my brown hair. There was no better way to say "nice to meet you" to a nice girl than a pair of washed-out, holy jeans; a wife-beater; and a red flannel shirt.

"Collins, hurry up. We have to meet the driver in five minutes," I said.

Collins grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt from his locker and quickly dressed. When he was done, we ran to the front of the school to meet up with Counselor Hank, singing "Girls, Girls, Girls." Collins opened the car door, and there she was, the girl he was hoping for: a beautiful stallion with baby blues surrounded by dark eyeliner, choppy blonde hair, and curves like a rollercoaster.

I could imagine a mini toy truck riding those curves as she was lying down sideways on the bed. The engine would struggle up her thigh, then stop at her hip for a rest before the deep drop down her waistline.

"Look at you all: tall, chocolate, and handsome," she said. "I'm Laura and you are?"

"Co-co-co—"

"Collins," I said, "get in the van." I nudged him; he snapped out of it and got in the van. I got in next, followed by Vincent who closed the door.

The driver took us to a café a few blocks from the school. We all sat around a table outside on the patio under a rainbow umbrella. The café patio was fenced in and decorated with live cacti and southwestern pottery. The waitress handed us our menus and took our drink orders.

"A pitcher of mango tango smoothie for the table, please," Counselor Hank said.

Once the waitress left, silence brewed like a strong cup of moonshine while we stared at our menus. I didn't know what to talk about with Laura and apparently neither did Collins or Vincent. Hey, I'm Johnny, I said slickly in my mind. How awkward is this...ha...ha...ha.

"Thank you all for coming," Counselor Hank said. "Though you did not have a choice in the matter, I appreciate that you did not cause a ruckus in front of the other students."

"Why do you think we'd make a ruckus? You payin' for lunch, right?" Collins asked as he pointed at the counselor. "If you ain't, I'll dine and dash!"

"There will be no need for that, Collins. I'm perfectly capable of paying for your lunch," the counselor responded. "I brought you here because I just want you to relax and think about your future."

"Not this again," I complained. "How many counseling sessions are you going to waste, talking about what I'm going do after high school?"

"As many as it takes, Johnny. You all are high school seniors now and will be graduating very soon. Now please, no more talking until I give you permission."

"Free will needs no permission," Vincent added.

"Let's begin," the counselor said as he took out a notepad and pen from his bag. "Where do you see yourself next year? In your vision, what are you doing?"

"Swimming in the cash that I make from the brothel in Las Vegas," Laura answered cheerfully. "I'm gonna be legal next year!"

"Pro-NBA basketball player," Collins added.

"I will not conform to be another worker bee in society," Vincent said.

"I don't know," I said. "This just doesn't seem important."

The waitress brought the pitcher of mango tango smoothie. "Are we ready to order?"

"Just a few more minutes," the counselor said. "This will be the most important decision of your life..."

I poured myself a glass and passed it on as the counselor blabbed nonstop about making choices. The creamy cold mango and banana flavors danced on my tongue as my mind drifted into a better place: a field of deer grass with dandelions whipping around in the wind. I kicked my shoes off, threw my socks away, and ran barefoot across the field...sometimes doing cartwheels...in my boxers. The best feeling in the world was as simple as the earth between my toes. Toward the end of the smoothie, my vision of the real world became blurry, and my eyelids couldn't stay open for even another second. My body became limp, the smoothie shattered on the ground, and my head smacked against the table. In my mind, I felt sick and started throwing up as I hovered over the deer grass. After relieving myself of the poison, I lay down on my back, gazing at the clouds in the sky, when I heard a voice from beyond the fields.

"They all look pretty out to me," a man's voice said.

I sat up and looked around, but there was no one else in the field except me. Hello? The ground began to tilt, causing me to roll down the hill. As I fell down a steep drop alongside the grassy hill, I saw a rocky creek at the bottom of the drop. Two thousand feet until collision: my eyes widened, and my heart jumped in fear. One thousand five hundred feet until collision: I was trying to snatch the grass, but it kept slipping through my hands. One thousand feet until collision: I held on to two handfuls of grass for dear life. Sweat dripped down my face as my heart fluttered. I got to take a few deep breaths before the earth began shifting again. The grassy ground now hung over my dangling body, and the sky was beneath my feet. The grass slowly broke from its roots. What would happen when I hit the sky?

"OK, just tie their hands, and throw them in," the voice said before the last few blades of grass broke off. The wind whipped through my hair and clothes as I fell a few thousand feet. The clouds separated between my fingers, and, no, they did not feel like cotton balls. This was unfortunate. Before I realized what was coming ahead, my body fell on a transparent glass, and I got a quick glimpse of the world beyond the field.

"Shit, his eyes—"

"Shhhhh," another man whispered with his finger over his mouth. The shadowy men stepped back, letting the sun shine brightly into the glass. Darkness began to consume the light from two opposite ends of the glass until all the light had vanished.

"What was that? You don't think he saw us, do you?"

"Nah, it's just a reaction. He won't remember what he saw when he wakes up."

Chapter 2: Vincent

I knew the mango tango smoothie was contaminated before I drank it. Someone put a sedative in the drink before it went into the blender but didn't grind it up properly. The white, crumbly pill was still evident in the smoothie when the waitress served it to us, but I was the only person who didn't drink it. For Johnny, the glass became half-empty fairly quickly, even though he sipped it through a straw. Collins ditched his straw, threw it on the floor, and chugged it, "like a man," with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Laura used her straw like a spoon and occasionally mixed the smoothie. Counselor Hank finished his last because he was more focused on the conversation. He only took a few sips between sentences when he talked so much his mouth became dry. No one was listening to him. Johnny seemed to stare up into the umbrella's undercarriage for quite a long time. He was probably daydreaming. When Collins finished chugging the smoothie, he coddled his head in his arms from the agonizing brain freeze. I gazed at Laura, which made her feel uncomfortable. She'd smile at first and then bounce around in her chair, trying to avoid my never-ending eye contact.

No one noticed the danger that was right in front of them because they were all too distracted by something else. Who contaminated the smoothie? I thought it was either the waitress or Counselor Hank, but why would he drink it if he knew it was contaminated? Everyone was facedown on the table within a few minutes. I pushed the smoothie aside. Out of nowhere, a dart flew into my neck, and I fell asleep like the rest of them. At that point it was doubtful that Counselor Hank had anything to do with this...unless he was crazy enough to drug himself and pretend he was just like one of us. What about the waitress? She never came back to take our order. Hmm...

I gazed at the counselor, who lay on his belly, sleeping with his hands tied behind his back like the rest of us. The cargo truck hit a bump on the road, causing a large box to fall on the sleeping hostage. The counselor groaned and struggled to roll the box off his back. I noticed the tape was peeling off the box, and I was curious about what could be inside. Maybe the contents of the box would give me a clue about who abducted us or where we were going. I used the wall to help push myself on my feet before I kneeled next to the counselor, grasped the tape with my teeth, and pulled the box open. About fifty packages of blueberries marked with a "WCV" label were packed away in that box. This didn't really help. The label didn't mean anything to me.

"Where are we?" Laura asked. "Why are my hands tied behind my back?"

"I had the strangest dream ever," Johnny added.

"Someone get this box off me!"

"Which one of you mother-fudgers did it?" Collins demanded. "It was the counselor all along! I knew he had an ulterior motive for taking us out to lunch. I shouldn't have fallen for it."

"We were all abducted," I said.

Everyone gasped and started to panic.

"Everyone calm down," Johnny interrupted. "As soon as this truck stops, we're going to get out of here. We just need a plan."

Everyone became silent.

"Enlighten us, Johnny," I said.

"I'm sure if we just talk to them everything will be OK," the counselor suggested.

"They don't look like they wanna talk. I mean, they abducted us and all," Collins argued. "Don't you think if they wanted to talk they would have been a little friendlier?"

"I have a plan," Johnny interjected. "We should hide behind these boxes, so when they move the boxes they'll be surprised when we kick them in the face."

"Violence is not the answer," the counselor said. "Adults handle situations by reasoning with one another. Johnny, you don't know anything about the situation. Kicking the people in the face will probably make our situation worse."

"I think the counselor is right," I added. "Since we don't have the use of our hands, there isn't much we can do to hurt them without getting ourselves into more trouble. We would only be able to run away if we knocked them out. We don't know how many of them are out there, or if they're armed. Actually, I do know they have tranquilizer guns. I got shot after you guys drank your smoothies."

The truck came to a stop, and everyone hushed. Our heads turned to stare at the door with wide eyes. The lock clicked open, and the door rolled up into the truck.

"Y'all look like you saw a ghost," a man in a black uniform said. "I'm Herb, and I'll be escorting you to your final destination, so—"

Collins shrieked in fear. "Did you hear what he said, you guys? 'Final destination'...You know what that means? We're all gonna die at the end!"

"Son, you watch far too many movies," Herb replied. "This is nothing like Final Destination, but it can be, if you like."

"I'm not sure if you're trying to make me feel better or worse."

Four other men in black uniforms approached the truck.

"Everybody out," Herb said.

As I got out of the truck, I noticed each man wore the same logo I found on the box of blueberries. The circular patches were plainly designed and said WCV above the words "Herb" and "Guard." Herb grabbed the rope, tied my hands together, pressed what felt like a gun against my back, and told me to walk.

"What's that?" I asked.

"You don't want to find out. Now do what I say."

"Who are you people?" Collins shouted.

"Start walking now!"

My feet shuffled through the sand as the strong sun blazed in my eyes. The guards closed and locked the gate behind us. There was nothing but sand and gates around us, and it seemed like we were walking in the middle of nowhere. My foot hooked on something, causing me to fall to my knees, where I was suddenly ambushed by a skeleton that popped out from beneath the sand. Sand flew into my eyes from the skeleton's eye sockets, and I blinked several times to try to get it out. Herb quickly pulled me up and pushed me to continue walking. I walked the rest of the way in the dark with my eyes closed. A few minutes later, I couldn't feel the sun on my face anymore, and the temperature felt cooler. A door closed and locked behind me.

"Someone push his hands through the bars so I can untie him."

My arms were pressed up against the cold metal bars, and my hands were freed.

"Have some water," the guards said before they walked away.

"Vincent, are you OK?" Johnny asked. "Sit down. The guards are gone."

"I feel like I have a million cuts in my eyes," I responded as I slowly sat down on the cement floor.

"I'm right behind you. Lie down into my lap. I'm going to flush your eyes out with water."

Once I was lying in his lap, he held my eyelids open and dripped water into my eyes. I blinked a few times in an attempt to restore my vision. We were surrounded by black bars and brick walls. Everyone looked exhausted and sweaty.

"Drink your water," Johnny said as he handed me the bottle.

"I think I'll pass. It's probably poisoned."

"The bottle was sealed. I think it's fine. If you don't drink, you'll dehydrate."

"Fine," I said before I gulped down all the water.

"Do you think anyone's looking for us?" Laura asked.

"If the office notices you didn't check back into school by the end of the day, then they'll be looking for us," the counselor said. He took out his cell phone. "I'm not getting any service." He stuck his arm through the bars, reaching his phone into the hall. "Still no service."

I moved to the darkest corner of the cell and sat by myself while everyone else was engaged in pointless conversation. They were all afraid and wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay and find out what this strange place was all about. There was no point in going back to the school because soon enough I'd graduate and have to go back home where I wasn't wanted. During a Christmas party almost eighteen years ago, two senators (one Democrat, the other Republican) took a drunken roll in the hay, resulting in me, the mistake that created the "family values" campaign. My parents made decisions based on how negatively something would affect their image and campaign, so naturally when the press found out Mom was pregnant, she had to get married. Growing up in such an unconventional family with no siblings was rough. All the media attention, cameras flashing, nagging reporters, and press conferences, not to mention all the fighting...I got tired of keeping up my parents' image. I wanted to be myself, and this life wouldn't let me do that, so I jumped. I casually walked into a five-story building, took the staircase up to the roof, and jumped. As I fell, the cameras were still flashing, and reporters were still gathered around, filming my every move. It all ended once I hit the ground.

The EMTs rushed me to the hospital, where I stayed for several months, sleeping in a coma as my body mended several broken bones. When I woke up, I had a whole new life. To save face, my parents enrolled me in Sonoran Correctional High School.

Chapter 3: Laura

Without a bed, sheets, or pillows, I had to fall asleep last night on a cold concrete floor trapped in a prison cell with a bunch of dogs. After an afternoon of panic, everyone calmed down by the evening as we all ran low on energy from no food. Yesterday was incredibly hot, and there was no water left by sundown. We didn't know we had to conserve our water or that no one would be around to bring us anything. Did they forget we were in here? Not a soul walked by after the guards locked us up. The night was freezing cold, and I could have used a blanket...Instead, I got spooned by Collins. I don't spoon for free, so he's going to pay for that. When I woke up, Collins was still asleep, so it was easy for me to slip into his pockets for spare change. Unfortunately, a single dollar bill was the only money he had among a chewed wad of gum, lint balls, and pencil erasers. What a cheapskate. I slipped the dollar into my pocket and threw the rest of his crap on the ground. All of a sudden, cold water splashed against my back, and I froze in panic.

"I love doing that to the newcomers," a guard laughed. He threw another bucket of water into the cell, and everyone woke up. "You lucky it ain't pee."

"All right, that's enough," a young Mexican woman said as she walked in with a tray of food in her hand.

The guard put the key in the lock and began to twist it. "Don't think you can run away now. I still have electric volts on my belt, and you're all wet, so it wouldn't be wise of you to try anything smart."

The door opened, and the short lady handed me a plate of eggs, toast, and mixed fruit with a pint of orange juice. I began to stuff my face, forgetting my ladylike manners.

"Hi, I'm Veronica," she said.

I heard her, but I didn't want to stop eating to respond. This was probably going to add an inch to my waistline. Speaking of waistlines, the orange jumpsuit didn't do Veronica's any justice. After a few seconds of silence, she moved on to Johnny.

"Thank you, Veronica, I'm Johnny."

"It's nice to meet you," she responded.

"We have a lot of questions. Do you think you can answer them for us?"

"I'm just the food server. Kenneth will be by soon to give you a tour. It's better if he answers your questions. Sorry about Barley; he's my stupid brother."

"Hey, that's not nice," the guard responded as he locked the door.

"Enjoy your meal," Veronica said as she and Barley walked away.

When every last bite of food was cleaned off my plate, I belched loudly—by accident, of course. Despite the fact that it was an accident, everyone turned to look my way.

"I've never seen one of you do that before," Collins said.

I didn't know what to say. Was it really that surprising that a lady could burp? We did it all the time in front of each other but usually not in front of the men, our lunch clients.

"Considering the circumstances, I'm not really myself right now," I said.

At this point, there was nothing I wouldn't do for a bubble bath and some alone time. My body ached, and I felt like everyone was judging me before they got to know me. Lunchtime was the only time I acted in that perfect way that turned men on: polite, silent, and sexy. I couldn't imagine how much money I'd lose if I burped in a man's face during a session.

* * *

When the bell rang, releasing us to fifth period, I was finally able to relieve myself since the girls didn't care what we did in front of each other. The teacher for fifth period was always five to ten minutes late to class, which gave us enough time to count our money and record what we earned that day. By the end of lunch, I got money stuffed in my bra, pockets, panties, and shoes. Random teachers who walked past me in the halls gave me strange looks because they noticed that the size of my boobs and butt had plumped up instantly. After I spilled my money out on the desk, counted it, and organized it into neat piles of ones and fives, Tammy recorded what I earned in her notebook.

At the end of class, Tammy awarded the top five earners with a golden star sticker that got bestowed upon each girl's forehead. I always got a star. Behavior meant everything at lunchtime. The unmannerly girls never made enough earnings to get a star. This may not have been important to all the girls at school, but it was important to me. After all, how else was I supposed to raise enough money to support myself after I graduated? I needed enough money to get to Vegas and find a place to live. I couldn't go back home. My parents didn't want a "whorish home wrecker" living in their house.

* * *

I heard footsteps approaching, and shivers traveled down my spine. I grabbed the bars and leaned my head against them. Could this get any worse? A young man with a neatly ironed, black Armani suit and matching Prada pressed-leather loafers strutted down the prison catwalk. He stopped in front of our cell, gave me a piercing glare with his powerful emerald eyes, and placed the laundry bag he held on the floor. He was definitely fierce and had an amazing bone structure...one of the best I'd seen.

"I've been expecting you," he said to the group.

"They keep sending one goon after another," Johnny said. "I'm tired of all this nonsense. What's going on here?"

"I'm Kenneth Quinton, the soon-to-be governor of Walnut Cherryville Village."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"This is where you will start your new life. A better life than the one you led before," Kenneth replied. "I have a lot of information to go over, so no more questions until after the tour."

Kenneth pulled out folded orange jumpsuits from his bag and handed each of us one through the bars. It was the most wretched piece of clothing I'd ever seen: a one-piece jumpsuit that buttoned up with long sleeves that was all orange, except for the white nametag on the right breast pocket that said "Laura" and "Gatherer" in black stitching. The Walnut Cherryville oval logo that read WCV was printed on the back. Beautiful man—why would you make me wear these rags?

"Excuse me," I said, holding up the ugly jumpsuit. "What is this for?"

"You're going to wear that to work every day."

"Work?"

"Well, don't tell me, princess, that you've never gotten your hands dirty before."

I had, but mostly with the neighbor's unborn children. It was a living that paid better than working at my father's restaurant as a dishwasher.

"These are for your head so you don't get sunburned," Kenneth said, while handing us all blue patterned bandanas.

What the hell...was I working outside?

"And finally, your black sneakers in all the correct sizes," Kenneth said as he slipped them through the bars.

Ick...This outfit kept getting uglier by the minute.

"Please change into your uniform now, and discard the clothes you're wearing into this bag."

The boys began undressing, but I hesitated.

"What's wrong, princess?" Kenneth asked.

"Well, first of all, you calling me 'princess,' second, stripping in front of you, and lastly, this hideous outfit!"

The immature boys laughed.

"I strongly advise you to put on the uniform."

"And if I don't put this on, what are you going to do to me?"

"The uniform is for your own safety. The village, myself included, will be very insulted if you don't like the appointed community attire," Kenneth said.

"You're a pig," I said as I lifted my shirt over my head. They hooted and whistled at me while I undressed, but the minute I put on the jumpsuit, they all stopped. I was forced to hand in my Hollister Skinny Jeans and my spaghetti-strap tank top with the lace trims for a baggy jumpsuit that left much to the imagination. No one would ever know how hot I was in a baggy jumpsuit that made me look like a fat girl. At least I got to keep my Miraculous Push-Up Bra from Victoria's Secret.

"It seems like, based on your choice of thong, I interrupted the plans you had for tonight," Kenneth said.

"You could say that," I replied.

"Laura!" Counselor Hank shouted. "I can't believe what I'm hearing...and seeing."

"Can we please get on with the tour? Why can't you guys talk about me behind my back like normal people instead of in my face?"

Kenneth opened the cell, and everyone walked out. "This way," he said as he led us back into the sandy village. "Walnut Cherryville Village is the safest place on earth. We do not have any crime because we eliminate all temptations. All citizens of Walnut Cherryville are equal and live carefree lives unconcerned about their monetary status. We take the stress out of your life by making decisions for you. We work for the community, and it works for us. I think you'll really enjoy your new home. Walnut Cherryville offers only the best quality of life. This is where you'll be staying during your off time and at night. We call it the glass house."

Kenneth stopped in front of a skyscraper made of glass and scanned his key to unlock the doors, and we walked into the lobby. My mind was overwhelmed. I could see everything everyone was doing in all the neighboring rooms and on the floors above me because the ceiling, floors, and walls were made out of glass.

"There is no privacy in this building to protect your safety and the safety of others. The logic is simple: people are less likely to commit crimes when other people are watching. Everything is glass, so there are no secrets kept from the community. There are several guards on each of the forty floors of this building, not to mention security cameras. Here are your keys." Kenneth handed each of us a plastic scan key. "You will need to use these to unlock the doors. They will let you enter and exit only authorized buildings. Our computer system knows which buildings and rooms you're authorized for and which ones you're not. If you're caught in an unauthorized room, there will be a penalty." Kenneth pushed the up button on the elevator.

A second later, the glass elevator arrived, the door opened, and we were on our way to the fifth floor. When we arrived, Kenneth took us to glass room K.

"There are five of you and three rooms. The rooms are a simple living space, so there can only be two people per room. Each room is already equipped with a pillow and a sleeping bag for your comfort. You—"

"Excuse me," I interrupted. "The glass is hard, and a sleeping bag won't be enough to keep us comfortable."

"Well, if you'd like, you may go back outside and sleep in your cell if that was more comfortable. Every citizen of Walnut Cherryville has the same accommodations because it's important that everyone is treated equally and no one owns something more valuable than someone else."

"No thanks, here will be just fine."

"Anyway, rooms K, L, and M are yours. Pick the person you would like to bunk with, and scan your key to mark your room."

The counselor scanned in for room M.

"Laura, do you want to—" Collins began, but I walked away before he could finish his sentence.

I saw Vincent scan room K, so I scanned it, too. Vincent glanced at Collins and shrugged with disbelief. Like I said before, I don't spoon for free.

"Collins," Johnny said with open arms, "would you like to be bunk buddies?"

"Sure," Collins said, disappointed. Johnny and Collins scanned into room L.

"Now that you know where you'll be sleeping, let me show you the restroom facilities," Kenneth continued.

We walked down the hall and stopped at the entrance to the restrooms.

"Men's facility is on the right, women's to the left. You don't need to scan your key to enter the restroom. You do, however, need to insert a golden coin into the water dispenser to use the shower. When you insert the coin, water will run for exactly ten minutes. Golden coins are only given to those who do good work and follow the rules of the village. The rules are simple: follow the instructions given by your superiors, and never abandon your community. If you follow those two simple rules, you will be rewarded with shower coins. If you don't follow the rules, you will be punished. Ask any resident of Walnut Cherryville, and they'll tell you how severe punishment can get. This village takes community service very seriously. Now let's go down to the cafeteria."

We took the elevator back down to the first floor. Across from the elevator was the entrance to the cafeteria.

"This is where you will meet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You may only enter the cafeteria during designated mealtimes that include: breakfast from six to nine, lunch from twelve to one, and dinner from five to eight. You can eat at the tables here if you want, eat outside, or eat in your room. As long as you start your work on time, we don't care where you eat. At the end of the hall is an entertainment room. You may enter that room only when you are on breaks or at night. The room closes for the night at eleven thirty, and we expect that you are back in your rooms by midnight. You will be able to watch TV in here and play a variety of card and board games. We also have a great selection of books you can borrow if you'd like to read on your downtime. We do not have resident computers, Internet, phones, or video games, because these technologies will corrupt your mind and complicate your life. If there is ever a medical emergency and you need immediate attention, press the red button connected to your key ring. The medical team will come to you right away. Well, that concludes the tour of this building. You will begin work tomorrow, and your supervisor will give you individual tours of your work space and responsibilities. They are expecting each of you to meet them on the first floor by the key scanner tomorrow morning at nine. Please be on time. On behalf of the village, welcome to Walnut Cherryville." Kenneth began to turn and walk away.

"Why are we here?" Johnny asked.

Kenneth stopped in his tracks, turned back around, and stood across from Johnny. "You're here because this is where you're supposed to be," Kenneth answered. "The events in your life led you here to help us."

"Why do you think we can help you?"

Kenneth looked away for a moment. "Each of you has valuable skills that our village desperately needs. Only you guys can do the job."

"How come you couldn't just ask us to come here instead of abducting us?"

"We couldn't risk you saying no."

"Will we ever get to go home?" I asked, looking into Kenneth's eyes. I could see the rage stirring as his eyebrows constantly twitched, and his hands formed fists. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and released his fists. Somehow he turned down the flame on a pot that looked like it was about to boil over. Why was he getting so distressed over the questions we asked?

"I hope that someday you will say that this is your home. I know we haven't treated you very hospitably, but we have to take certain precautions for the safety of our people. I promise you that we will never treat you like that again. Once you finish the tasks ahead of you and you still don't want to stay...I will let you go. Now excuse me, I must get back to my work." He quickly turned and walked away.

"He's got some serious repressed anger issues," Vincent commented. "There's something going on here that he's not telling us."

"What are we going to do?" Collins asked.

"Just sit tight, and see how this plays out," Johnny said.

"Find out as much information as you possibly can without looking suspicious," Vincent added. "There are still many questions that need answers."

Chapter 4: Collins

Despite everything that was strange about this place, my glass room had a great view of the night sky. Last night there was a full moon that shone brightly among the stars. Nestled tightly in our sleeping bags, Johnny and I gazed at the stars, like we used to do on that one night a year when Sonoran Correctional High School would let us go camping. Johnny was an avid camper—me...not so much. Whenever it started to rain, he'd stay outside the tent while I crawled back into it. Sometimes camping was canceled early due to a thunderstorm. When this occurred, Vincent and I loved to watch the teachers drag Johnny back inside. It was hilarious because the teachers literally dragged him. Johnny never left willingly. I always imagined that he'd be some kind of a storm chaser or forest ranger when he grew up. At least when we "camped" in the glass house, he wouldn't be able to throw bugs on me. Even though I'm a man, I hate bugs; they make me scream like a girl.

The next morning, I woke up and caught Laura changing into her uniform next door. Vincent was a lucky bastard and didn't even take advantage of it. How could he still be sleeping through all this? I got out of my sleeping bag and unfolded my orange jumpsuit. Mine said "Collins" and "Janitor." I hoped that didn't mean what I thought it meant. I didn't want to miss senior year to be a janitor for some stupidly lame community.

All last year, I missed out on a ton of fun shit. Instead, I had my nose to the grindstone, so I could raise my GPA in time for senior year. My team had a lot of upcoming games scheduled this year that I couldn't miss. After I was placed at the correctional school by the court, the high school basketball team became my family, and I had never let them down. What would they think if I missed a game? Plus the college recruiters would be there. If I wasn't there for the college recruiters, I couldn't get the scholarship I desperately needed, and I would never be able to have a career in professional basketball. I thought I was gonna be sick...

I bolted out the door, ran to the restroom, and threw up in the sink. Two minutes later, I saw Johnny in the mirror, standing behind me.

"Are you OK?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"I just started thinking about things again," I said and began to wash my face with cold water to hide the fact that I was crying. "This was the worst possible time of my life for someone to abduct me and take me to some strange psychotic village."

"Well, there's never a good time for that," Johnny laughed.

"Plus, on top of it, my uniform says I'm a janitor, which is completely racist."

"It seems like I didn't do much better. Mine says laundry services."

"Was my ability to clean things the valuable skill that Walnut Cherryville desperately needed? Everyone knows how to clean things, and I'm not even a professional housekeeper."

"I don't know what's going on here, but trust me, we're going to find out soon." Johnny eased over to me and whispered, "Don't worry, I promise we're going to get out of here."

I turned off the water and dried my face with a paper towel. "I hope so. If something that's beyond my control alters my life again for the third time, I will probably murder somebody and succeed this time."

"Trust me; you don't want to do that. You're lucky your grandma didn't die when you switched her sugar for rat poison. I shot someone, and they actually died. I will never understand what happened that night, and I am always trying to forget what I did. Now let's stop talking about murdering people and go get breakfast."

Johnny and I met Vincent and Laura at the cafeteria. I felt like I was in a prison cafeteria, because everyone was walking around in their orange jumpsuits. We each grabbed a tray and waited in line to get our food from the buffet.

"How was everyone's night?" Johnny asked.

"Awful," Laura complained. "Can't wait to sleep in a normal bed again. Sleeping on the floor makes my hips hurt."

"I slept on the street once," Vincent added. "Compared to that, sleeping on glass is quite comfortable."

"You're weird."

"Did you catch that view of the moon last night?" Johnny asked. "Wasn't that amazing? It was the best—"

"Hold it," I interrupted. "Let's not get distracted from our mission here."

"What's our mission?" Vincent asked.

I stacked fried eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and pancakes onto my plate. Now this was what I was talking about: a hearty and delicious breakfast. When I reached the end of the line, I grabbed a carton of orange juice.

"Wow, looks like you're feeding an army. You must be really hungry," Veronica said.

I turned and saw Veronica replacing the almost-empty tray of pancakes with a fresh batch. "Good morning," I replied.

"Are you sure eating that much is not going to make you tired?" she asked. "Today is your first day of work."

I didn't really care about work. How hard is it to be a janitor, anyway?

"I'm really hungry from not eating much yesterday. See you around," I said before leaving to find my group an empty table. I claimed our table, sat down, and folded over the edge of my napkin into my uniform collar. I poured maple syrup all over everything on the plate. With a fork in the left hand and a knife in my right, I was ready to indulge in a giant feast of fatty foods. Right before I took my first bite, Vincent had to interrupt.

"So you were saying something about a mission?"

Laura sat down, but Johnny was caught in the buffet line, talking to Veronica.

"Well, don't you want to get out of here and go home?" I asked.

"I want to get out of here and go to Las Vegas," Laura said.

Vincent shrugged and never verbally responded to my question.

"At least the food is decent," Laura commented.

All she had on her plate was yogurt and fruit. That's not breakfast; that's torture.

"Looks like you're on a diet, Laura."

"Looks like you're going to have a heart attack, Collins."

Johnny sat down at the table after finishing what appeared like a long conversation with Veronica.

"What were you guys talking about?" I asked.

"Nothing really," Johnny replied.

When I finished eating, I stood up from the table and rubbed my belly. "What a load."

"You're disgusting," Laura commented.

You're a hot, annoying bitch I wanted to say, but somehow managed to keep my mouth shut. The more I got to know her, the less I wanted to sleep with her. I was glad she was Vincent's problem and not mine. I started walking away from the table when Johnny called my name.

"Collins, you didn't take your tray."

I stopped and turned to Johnny. I didn't take it because I decided to leave it there.

"Don't make Veronica's job harder than it already is; now come take your tray," he added.

I didn't care how hard Veronica's job was, all I cared about was getting home! I grabbed the napkin from my collar, tossed it on the floor, and walked away. I waited by the key scanner like Kenneth said a few minutes before nine. I got there first, and eventually Johnny, Vincent, and Laura came to wait with me.

"Collins," an old East Indian man appeared and called out, "come with me."

The walk to the janitor's closet was slow and tragic. The man held a mop in his right hand and used it as a walker. It took five minutes to walk down half a hallway with him. When we reached the janitor's closet, he attempted to scan his key, but the barcode reader couldn't read it because his arm trembled terribly.

After ten minutes, this made me frustrated enough to take the key from him and scan it myself. The man shot me a funny look...I think, but it was hard to tell behind all the wrinkly flaps of skin on his face.

"Sorry," I said, while handing his keys back to him.

Behind the door was a giant closet filled with gallon-sized bottles of cleaning solutions stacked on every shelf in a variety of colors. Every bottle was written on with permanent marker: blue "toilets/showers," pink "floors," green "sinks/counter tops," and yellow "windows/mirrors."

"This room is just for cleaning solutions," he said. "I don't want to find anything else in this closet. Every day you will take the amount of solution you need in a smaller container or spray bottle and leave the gallon bottle in here."

He began to unlock the next closet door, and I decided to just wait for him this time. He pulled out a pushcart from the closet. "Here is your state-of-the-art janitor's pushcart where you will keep all your equipment during the day. When your shift is over, you will return your cart to this closet. If you need any extra supplies, like a new duster, paper towels, or any supplies besides cleaning solutions, you get those from this closet. With this newfangled contraption they gave us, you can fit or attach all the equipment you need to your cart. This cart has everything you need on it to start cleaning, so enjoy. Oh, and here is your cleaning schedule. You will repeat this schedule every week. Your scan key has been authorized to enter and clean only the rooms on your schedule during the allotted time. If I were you, I'd start by cleaning the public rooms first, since the governor lets you spend only two hours in each public room at a time. You can take as long as you want in the bathrooms, so I'd do those last."

I glanced at the schedule. "I don't know where any of these rooms are."

"You're young and strappy; you'll figure it out," he said as he began to slowly walk away.

First on the schedule: the game room. Time for a little fun! I wondered if this pimped-out cleaning cart could double as a scooter. I got a running head start, and when the cart rolled down the hall fast enough, I hopped on the edge. Might as well have a little fun in hell if we were gonna be here for a while. "Watch out," I yelled out to pedestrians.

They screamed, dropped what they were holding, and ran out of the way.

I even passed my supervisor, and he had a head start!

"Somebody stop that man!"

"No one can stop me," I yelled. "I'm cart-o-roller!"

Yeah, no one can stop me except the wall...oh shit. My eyes widened right before the crash. I slammed against the wall, causing bottles of cleaning solution to explode and fly everywhere. When I hopped off, I was circled by guards and an audience that stood at a distance.

"Stop right there," they said with their guns pointed at me.

I raised my hands over my head to surrender.

"Put your hands on the wall!"

Really? You guys are more or less mall cops, pretending to be the real thing. I put my hands on the wall and looked over at the cart that I destroyed. The vacuum was completely smashed, and, besides the bottles, everything else looked like it survived. One of the guards pulled out a digital camera and started taking pictures of the accident. What was this—a crime scene now? Another guard pulled out a notepad and started writing something. I rolled my eyes and chuckled at them.

"Quiet!"

I stopped.

"Hands behind your back," a guard ordered.

They tightened handcuffs around my wrists and told me to start walking.

"It's time to be judged for your crimes."

They walked me to a place that wasn't shown to me on Kenneth's tour, the courtroom. As we walked out of the glass building into the sandy village, the citizens gazed at me with their blank faces. Being pushed around in handcuffs by the guards was like a train wreck; everyone had to look. After walking across the village, we stopped in front of a small, dome-shaped building made out of red clay. The clay had pictures of stick people carved into it, but I didn't get a chance to observe them. The guards quickly scanned their key and pushed me into the dome, which looked smaller on the outside than it did on the inside. I was confused. Where did all the clay go? I wanted to reach out and touch the walls to confirm that the clay had disappeared, but I couldn't because the guards trapped me in their circle.

The windowless walls now looked white and narrow but reached far into the sky. Together, they formed a perfect square that was connected by a dome-shaped skylight, a giant glass window serving as a roof. The guards took a number, they walked me down the red carpet, and we sat down on a bench. The sun beamed through the skylight on to a beautiful African queen with purple lips and long, braided hair, wearing a black silk robe. A frail white man stood before her, surrounded by guards.

"Approach the bench," she said. "State your name."

The guards brought the man forward, and the man said his name was Ben White. Another woman, who I assume was her assistant, brought her Ben White's file from another room behind the desk where the African queen sat. When the assistant brought the file to the queen, she took a two-second glance at it.

"What are his crimes?"

"Stealing shower coins, Your Honor," a guard said. "May I approach the bench with my evidence?"

"Proceed."

The guard handed over his camera and notepad to the judge. I could hear the camera click as she flipped through the pictures. She connected the camera to her computer and printed the pictures.

"This man is guilty as charged." She wrote something in Ben's folder before she added the pictures and the guard's notes to his file. "This is his second offense, so his case will proceed to Chair Trials."

"No, Your Honor, please," Ben cried, falling to his knees.

"Take him away," she ordered.

"I'll never do it again, I promise," Ben continued, as the guards dragged him out of the courtroom.

"Number 232," she called.

The guards walked me up to the yellow line where the red carpet ended.

"Approach the bench, and state your name."

The guards walked me up to the bench. "Collins Greene."

The queen's assistant brought the queen my file. As she began to look through it, my funny bone stopped tingling, and I became slightly nervous. I felt that everything I learned about this place was ridiculous and funny until now. What did my file say about me? Why was that man freaking out so much that his case was going to Chair Trials? What the hell was Chair Trials? It could be anything...The people here were freaking nuts!

"What are his crimes?"

"Vandalism of Walnut Cherryville property, public disturbance, and being absent from work."

"I wasn't absent from work," I refuted.

"Your Honor, may I show you my evidence?"

"Proceed. And for the record, Collins, you will not speak unless spoken to."

One guard handed over both the notes and the camera. She flipped through the pictures, printed them, and placed the evidence in my file along with her notes.

"This man is guilty as charged on all counts. Since you are very new to our village and a first-time offender, I will let you off with a warning. If I ever see you in my courtroom again, you will receive a serious punishment. Do you understand?"

"No," I responded. "I'm very confused, and I'm not familiar with any of your laws."

The queen pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to me. "This is a list and explanation of all Walnut Cherryville's current laws. Please keep this as a reference. Usually, the governor will notify the village if there are any changes to the laws."

"OK," I said.

"Have a nice day, Collins, and be a good citizen, all right?" she said.

I nodded as the guards escorted me out the courtroom and unlocked my handcuffs. They dropped me in the sand and began to walk away.

"Wait," I yelled out.

They stopped in their tracks and turned toward me.

"The dome...why is it bigger on the inside?"

The guards glanced at each other before deciding to kick sand in my face. They walked away without answering my question...bastards. I stood up from the sand, wiped my face on my sleeve, and scanned my key. Access Denied...damn. I strolled around the dome, observing the stick-man pictures as I ran my hand against them. It looked like the pictures were supposed to tell a story, but I didn't know what they meant.

Maybe these were not supposed to mean anything relevant to nowadays. They were probably really old, but the inside of the building looked new. A guard approached me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said it was time to get back to work, so I walked back to the glass house. Since it was almost lunchtime, I sat by the cafeteria doors and began to read the laws of the land.

As a citizen of Walnut Cherryville Village, you are forbidden to do the following:

1. Abandon Walnut Cherryville Village: any citizen that walks beyond the confines of the village will be charged with abandonment, a serious crime punishable by death. Village limits are marked by gates and fences that are under constant surveillance.

My interpretation: whoever made this law must be so undesirable and lonely that they had to make up their own village and force people to live in it. This might put a damper on our escape plans.

2. Refuse to Work: any citizen who skips work or refuses to work their assigned job will be charged with absence from work, which is a crime punishable by appearing in Chair Trials after the citizen is judged. The only time it is acceptable for a citizen not to work is during a medical emergency.

My interpretation: this was a communist village with no free will. The only way to get a break from scrubbing windows was to fake a medical emergency. I had to practice my fainting and become an expert fainter.

3. Vandalize Walnut Cherryville Property: everything within the confines of the gates and fences is Walnut Cherryville property. Citizens who destroy Walnut Cherryville property will be judged based on the value of the property. The punishment for vandalism could be a warning or appearance in Chair Trials.

My interpretation: citizens couldn't own anything, and a citizen was the property of Walnut Cherryville. If I ever got out of here, I was going to drop an atomic bomb on this place...How was that for vandalism?

4. Disturb the Peace: citizens who behave aggressively will be charged with disturbing the peace, which is a crime punishable by a warning or an appearance on Chair Trials.

My interpretation: no one here had any fun! I mean, come on...I wasn't behaving aggressively by using my cleaning cart as a scooter. OK, I admit, I probably freaked out some people when I rolled past them but only because they were all brainwashed and forgot how to have fun. I bet there was at least one person who saw me and who was like, "Whoa...that dude is awesome!"

5. Assault: a citizen who physically injures or rapes another citizen will be charged with assault, a serious crime punishable by appearing in Chair Trials after the citizen is judged. In a situation where the victim uses physical violence against their attacker, the victim will receive the same punishment as the attacker.

My interpretation: if someone tried to hurt me, I couldn't defend myself without taking heat for it.

6. Steal, Bribe, or Trade: citizens must earn everything they need by working and following the laws of Walnut Cherryville Village. Those who obtain or sell physical objects or bias marks on work reports by stealing, bribing, or trading will be punished by appearing in Chair Trials after they are judged.

My interpretation: there was no place in Walnut Cherryville for a good deal. No wonder Ben White was stealing shower coins; he probably wasn't good enough at his job to earn any. I was no Cinderella, so I hoped Johnny liked his roommates stinky.

Chapter 5: Johnny

After waiting by the key scanner for a few minutes, a hulky woman with short, curly brown hair called my name. Hearing her deep voice say "Johnny" through those thin, red lips made me quiver.

"Come on, son, it's time to get domesticated," she said. "I'm going to make such an honest man out of you, your lady friend will be impressed!"

Laura giggled and wished me good luck on my first day of work. I walked toward the manly lady with my tail between my legs, feeling emasculated. When I reached her, she harshly patted my back and then put her arm around me. Right now, I couldn't have thought of anything more disturbing, but, unfortunately, it got worse. She walked with her arm around me all the way to the laundry room. When someone passed by, she'd tell them that I was her new boyfriend, and they congratulated her. Sometimes she pulled me in really close like she was going to kiss me, and I almost suffocated in her boobs.

"I have many boyfriends, Johnny, so you're going to have to share," she said before unlocking the laundry room.

"What do I call you?"

"You can call me Mama."

"Is there anything else I can call you?"

She slammed me up against the door with her brute strength, grabbed me by my uniform, and lifted me off the ground with one hand. With her face only about an inch away from mine, she said, "Am I not good enough to be your mama?"

"I'm sure you're a perfectly good mama, but I already have a mama," I said shakily.

"I'm your mama now," she said before she released me.

I took a few deep breaths to try to calm down.

"Now that that's all cleared up, let's start our tour," she said.

We walked into the laundry room, which was a huge room full of lined-up washers on the left and dryers on the right.

"As you can see, you have your washers on the left and dryers on the right. Straight ahead is the dry cleaning station. Over there, we have detergents, softeners, stain stick, you name it. And lastly, on the other side, we have the ironing and sewing stations. As members of laundry services, we pride ourselves on giving everyone a crisp, clean uniform. You, my love, will be responsible for collecting all the dirty laundry in the entire building and delivering the clean laundry back to its owners. But wait, that's not all...You are also responsible for sorting the dirty laundry. For example," she paused, grabbed a dirty uniform out of the pile, and put it on a hanger, "when I receive a naughty uniform, I hang it up on this rack and observe what's wrong with it. Are there stains or holes in it? If there are stains, rub some stain stick on it, and throw it in the pile to be washed. If there are holes, it goes in a separate washing pile, which is then given to the sewers after it's dry. All the orange uniforms, towels, and bedding get washed and dried, but everything else gets dry cleaned. Your job is very important, Johnny, so if you screw up, we all screw up, and you'll take the heat for it. It's all about sorting things into the right piles so we know what to do with it and picking up and dropping off laundry on time. Do you have any questions?"

"Do people have more than one uniform?"

"Yes, and you'll be delivering the second uniform to the new arrivals later today. I also want to let you know that every morning you will start your day by collecting everyone's dirty birdies, then you will sort, and two hours before closing, you will deliver the clean beans. People will let you know they have dirty birdies by leaving their laundry outside their doors. When you return their clean beans, you will leave the laundry on the floor, folded up in a bag. If you have any more questions, I will be sitting at my desk."

She finally left me alone, so I began sorting the dirty laundry into piles. That lady was repulsive, possibly more repulsive than the strong smell of body odor that came from these dirty uniforms. With each uniform I took off the pile, the smell got stronger, and fanning the uniforms out on a rack made it worse. I could feel my breakfast coming up on me, so I stepped away from the pile and went over by the dryers where the air was cleaner.

"She's a piece of work, right?" the man next to me said as he loaded the dryer. "You look a little green. Are you feeling all right?"

"The smell and her," I said, putting my hands over my nose and mouth.

"Yeah, every newbie gets like that on their first day. After a while, you'll get used to the smell, but I can't say you'll ever get used to her. Do a bad job, she'll spank you naked. Do a good job, she'll eventually marry you. Half the guys in here are her husband, not by choice, of course. She got like about forty of them, and fifteen were forced to consummate their marriage."

For the first time, I realized that everyone around me was a man, and now I understood why. This lady was hoarding men of all different ages and making them do laundry (among other dirty things). I was seventeen; I didn't want to be married anytime soon, especially to that horrifying woman, who was probably twenty years older than me. What if I was forced to lose my virginity to her? I didn't know if I should try to do my job well or purposely be bad at it.

"Are you married to her?" I asked.

"No, we're just engaged, see," he said as he held out his hand. He wore a simple ring made from copper wire that was twisted together.

"What if you say 'no' to her?"

"Oh, you don't want to do that. She'll kill you. She'll also kill you if she catches you with another woman."

"Excuse me," I said before walking away. "I'm going to pick up the dirty laundry, Mama," I shouted.

"OK, don't forget to take the rolling laundry hamper unless you want to carry it all with your bare hands," she responded.

I quickly grabbed a laundry hamper and rushed out the door. I stopped by the cafeteria to pick up the kitchen's dirty birdies, and I saw Veronica wiping tables. I pulled out a chair at the table behind her, sat down, and sighed.

"Hey Johnny, how's your first day of work?" she asked.

"Not so good," I responded. "I came here to get a break from it."

Veronica sat down next to me and smiled, which was the first time I noticed the gap between her two front teeth. "The first few days are tough for everyone, but after you get used to what you're supposed to do, it's not so bad."

She twisted her long, dark-brown hair around her finger as I gazed into her eyes like a summer moth attracted to a nightlight. At first glance, her eyes were brown, but a closer look revealed the honey pigments that helped her eyes glow beneath thick eyebrows. There was nothing artificial about Veronica; she glistened brightly with natural beauty untouched by makeup.

"Do you really believe that, or are you just telling me that to make me feel better? I don't think I'll ever get used to Mama as my supervisor."

"I believe that you just have to make do with what you're given until you have the opportunity to make it better."

"Are you happy here?"

"Not particularly, but I can't think of anything else I'd be doing with my life if I wasn't captured and taken into Walnut Cherryville."

"Why do you say that? There is a lot you could do with your life; the only problem is deciding what to do with it. I wouldn't say that I have anything mapped out for mine, but I sure as hell wouldn't be spending it here by choice."

"You're right," Veronica chuckled. "Look at me: I wipe tables, serve food for a living, and somehow convince myself that I'm satisfied. When I was thirteen, my family fled from Mexico, trying to enter the United States. Everyone, except my brother and me, was shot down by border patrol," she explained. "We were then captured and brought here to work. I've lost my roots, my family, everything, except my faith in the Lord." She reached beneath her collar and pulled out a golden cross. "I snuck this in my bra when I found out they confiscated your clothing. Where would you be if you weren't here?"

"I'd be in Phoenix, Arizona, finishing my last year of correctional high school or possibly repeating it," I answered. "My grades were barely passing."

"At least you got to go to high school. I haven't been in school since I was thirteen, so I never got to experience it. I read a lot of books about people who went to high school, and it sounds fun."

I laughed. "High school is filled with drama."

"And this place isn't?"

"You're right; this place is full of drama, too."

"Hey, we should ditch this place and go to the library."

"You mean the entertainment room?"

"No, the Quinton family has a secret library where they keep all their banned books; it's really cool. You should see it, come on," she said, jumping out of her chair excitedly. She grabbed my hand, pulled me out of my chair, and raced to the door.

"Wait, I need the laundry hamper," I said, and she let go. After I grabbed the cart, she led me to the elevator and pressed the up button. When the doors opened, we stepped in, and she entered a code into the keypad. The doors closed, and we began traveling up.

"Did you know that there is a forty-first floor on this building? I bet Kenneth didn't tell you that on the tour."

"No, he didn't."

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped into a room full of books. The bookshelves formed a maze lit by the sun beaming in from the skylight. I followed Veronica into the maze.

"Stay close, the maze is so long you could get lost and not be able to find your way out," Veronica mentioned.

"How did you know about this place?"

"I have a friend; actually he's more like a brother to me. Better than my flesh-and-blood brother whom you met yesterday. When I first arrived in Walnut Cherryville, I didn't know any English, and I didn't understand anyone when they were speaking to me. Most people got frustrated with trying to communicate with me, so they kept me out of their conversations, but Alejandro didn't. He knew Spanish because like me, he is also a Native Mexican. He showed me this place because there are books in here that could help me learn English, so I wouldn't get in trouble so much."

I followed her into the next aisle.

"I love this section of the library," she said, twirling around before she took a deep breath. "All the classics are in this section, and you can tell because this is where that musty book smell is the strongest. Some people judge books by their covers, but I judge books by their smell. There isn't a scent any mustier than The Quinton Journals."

At the end of the aisle, a locked glass case concealed three closed journals on display. The first was a leather-bound book filled with parchment paper that was placed near a steel nib with a wooden mount. The cover read James Quinton: Journey to Western Frontier. The second journal, titled William Quinton: World War Veteran, had a gray fabric cover with a spiral binding and rested next to a fountain pen. The last journal was a beige blood-stained hardcover book, titled Robert Quinton: The Business of Depression, accompanied by a ballpoint pen.

Veronica hovered over the glass case, nearly drooling on it. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a tiny silver key, and tested the lock, but it wasn't the right fit. "Ever since I discovered that these journals were here, I've been collecting keys. One day I hope I find the right one, so I can open the case and read what these journals are about, but in a place like this, keys that don't have barcodes are difficult to find."

"The fact that someone locked up history this way probably means that person doesn't want it falling into the wrong hands. It's unlikely you'd just find the key floating around somewhere," I said.

"I know," she replied. "That's why I'm trying to find a way to steal the keys, but I don't know exactly who has them, so I steal from everyone. You can borrow any book in the library as long as no one notices that any of the books are missing. I should return some of the books I already read; they're just piling up in my sleeping bag, and it's getting uncomfortable."

I laughed, and Veronica's giggle chimed in. "You're funny," I said. "Have you ever tried to escape?"

"When I first got here, I tried to escape, but I didn't really plan it out. I didn't make it past the fence, and I'm lucky I didn't, because I would have been executed. The punishment for escaping the village is harsh."

"It won't be if we're successful. My friends and I are thinking about escaping. You should come with us."

"Johnny, please don't do something you'll regret later."

"But think about it, Veronica; you know a lot about this place, and that could be really helpful in developing an escape plan. Besides, do you want to live the rest of your life here in Walnut Cherryville without getting a chance to see what else is out there?"

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere you want," I said. "I promised my friends we'd get out of here."

"I will think about it and get back to you," she said as she smiled. Veronica looked at the clock on the wall. "We should hurry up; I don't want our supervisors to notice we're missing."

"But I haven't found a book yet."

"I think I know just the right book for you," she said as she hustled through the maze.

I followed her into the environmental section. The book she picked out for me was sticking out slightly from the others on the shelf.

"Take it and hide it in your uniform until you get to your room," she said as she handed me a book titled Survival in the Desert. I stuffed it under my uniform before we went back into the elevator.

"Thanks for today, Veronica," I said. "It was fun. See you later." I walked out on the fortieth floor, looked back at her, and waved before the elevator started to close.

She smiled back at me and said "until tomorrow" before the elevator closed completely.

Before I started collecting dirty laundry, I took out the book from my uniform and read the back cover.

Explore the deserts of the world through colorful descriptions and lifelike photography. Survival in the Desert examines how all living organisms, from plants to humans, survive in the harsh desert environment.

I stuffed it back into my uniform. That looked like a good read and would be useful if we escaped from Walnut Cherryville successfully. Once we got out, we would have to face a whole new challenge of surviving in the desert until we found civilization.

* * *

There was a time in my life when my mom and I lived like modern nomads on the open road. After I shot that man when I was ten, my father and I returned home to our trailer with bags full of treasures. When my mom found out what he did, she was furious, and my parents got into the most gruesome fight I ever saw. They yelled at each other for forty minutes and threw dishes and chairs, all while I was watching a rerun of Looney Tunes.

Eventually, Mom pulled me away from the television and said, "Pack up, we're leaving," but I didn't know what she meant at the time.

She packed up our suitcases, and on our way out to the car, my dad pleaded, "Come on, baby, don't do this."

With a firm grip on my hand, she walked right past him, dragging me along to the car. I looked back at my crying father, never knowing that this would be the last time I'd see him before he died.

My mom and I drove off into the night and were forced to become modern nomads because we had nowhere else to go, and the police were looking for me. After driving for a little while, she pulled over to the side of the road, and we slept in the car. The next morning, we drove into town in search of food. Mom's money ran out fast, so we eventually went from eating fast food to eating out of the trash. Every morning Mom would drive into a town so we could eat, but at night she drove back to the outskirts so we could park the car and sleep. We never went into the same town twice because in the towns, it was more likely that the police would find us. If we were in the country areas when it rained, we put our paper cups on the roof to collect drinking water while we stood outside naked, letting the rain wash off our bodies.

I lived this way for about a month until the police found us. Mom was arrested for child abuse, and she spent a few years in jail. Sometimes I got to visit her in prison when my adopted family allowed it. I was fortunate enough to get adopted by the first foster family I was placed with, and we lived together for two years. They were pretty nice, and for the first time, I had a lot of brothers and sisters. In the summer my adopted parents would break the kids up into two teams of five to play football in their giant yard. I still remember those beautiful, hot summer days when my adopted mother made her famous homemade lemonade with tiny triangle sandwiches. We drank and ate during half time while the two teams talked about their game plan. I loved it there and almost never wanted to leave because it felt like a never-ending sleepover, but, at the same time, I missed my mother.

At some point, all good things have to come to an end. When I was twelve, my adopted parents adopted this new teenager who was severely troubled. The kid constantly framed me for injuries he inflicted on himself. He was really good at making it look like I did it, and I hated him for that. Eventually, my adopted parents believed his stories and thought I was aggressive, so they enrolled me in Sonoran Correctional High School, where I lived and went to school for six years.

* * *

Within two hours, I had picked up everyone's dirty laundry in the glass building, so I returned with dread to the laundry room.

"Johnny, you're back," Mama said. "Took you a little long. Let's try to pick up the pace next time because you still got a lot of work to do today." She looked around the room. "Jack, I'm going to need you to help Johnny sort dirty birdies today so we don't run behind."

Only thirty minutes until lunchtime. Come on, Johnny, you can do this!

Chapter 6: Vincent

Everyone who lived on Hillsdale Court had a mysterious, but secret, life that only I could see. Before I decided to end my life at sixteen, I was the unofficial neighborhood watchman, recording every interaction between neighbors in my journal. The entire street was rigged with Nightvision Outdoor Wi-Fi IP cameras hidden in trees and connected to street lights. The wireless cameras fed back to my computer in my room where I watched everything on a divided screen. As I observed the neighbors meet up for parties, make shady exchanges, leave, and come home from work, I made a timeline of events for each character. The only problem was that there were gaps in all the characters' timelines, because I couldn't see everything that went on inside their homes. I quickly found out that only having cameras on the outside wasn't good enough; I needed to put them inside, too.

When my parents campaigned around the neighborhood, they each made me walk with them separately as they went door to door, passing out flyers, and persuading the neighbors to vote. This was a tedious, repetitive process that they had made me do right before every election, but it had its advantages. For assisting my parents with their campaigns and being such a good sport, they gave me a credit card with no limit.

Before I got the credit card, I used to watch the neighbors through my window with binoculars, but I couldn't see very much. After doing some research on spy cameras, I decided to buy ten Nightvision Outdoor Wi-Fi IP cameras for $239 a pop. When my parents saw the credit card bill that month, they asked me why I spent so much money on cameras. I told them I wanted to do something with my reward that mattered, instead of blowing it on something that would eventually collect dust. I lied and said I bought the cameras to donate to the neighborhood watch, so Hillsdale Court could be safer for children. My parents were very proud of me because they didn't know I was using the cameras for my personal use.

Usually, I found that when Mom or Dad made the rounds of the neighborhood, the neighbors were really friendly. After a neighbor answered the door, Mom or Dad would give a speech and a flyer, and the neighbor would invite us in to talk over coffee.

One year, determined to fill the gaps in my characters' stories, I brought a backpack full of nanny cameras to plant in each neighbor's house. While they were distracted by my mom or dad's conversation, I snuck around the house, planting the cameras, and surprisingly, I never got caught. When the next bill came, I told my parents that I was donating nanny cameras to the neighborhood watch because parents were becoming increasingly concerned about what the nannies were doing when left alone in the house. Again, my parents were very proud of my community service.

After several weeks of watching each neighbor through both types of cameras, I realized most of the straight husbands were cheating on their wives with the same two women. One of them was fifty-year-old Elda, a dentist who prostituted in her spare time. Hillsdale Court was her territory before Laura, a kinky teenager, started stealing her customers. According to their customers, many of them switched to Laura because she cost less, had no wrinkles, and had no limitations. The conflict between these two characters quickly became one of my favorite stories to follow. The men would come home at random times during the day, and I'd watch as each of them was seduced by Laura or Elda.

As Elda lost customers, she became increasingly angry, so she began threatening Laura by vandalizing her house in the middle of the night. One night Elda threw a bucket of blood on Laura's white front door, another night she broke her parents' car windows, and on a different night she egged Laura's house. I was curious as to how Elda collected that much blood. Was it human blood? I always imagined it was blood collected from her dental work patients, but I never knew for sure. Laura's parents had no idea who was doing this or why, but Laura was not concerned. As far as I knew, Laura's parents didn't even know Laura was a prostitute.

It didn't take long for Laura's family to expose Elda. Her parents were so afraid that they bought a top-notch security system that caught Elda in her next act and had her sent to jail. Right before the police took Elda away, she told Laura's parents that Laura was prostituting, but they didn't believe her.

Laura owned Hillsdale Court for two years before she was caught in the act with Tom Burks, the husband of Linda Burks. When Linda told Laura's parents about Laura's little business, they believed it. Laura was sent away, and I never saw her again until one day at lunchtime in Sonoran Correctional High School.

* * *

As I was zoning out by the key scanner, a heavy black man with a bald head approached our group. "Vincent," he called out. I followed him out of the glass building and into the village, where he led me to the packaging station.

The packaging station, which was a series of open-air tents, was located by the fence that separated Walnut Cherryville Village from the rest of the desert. As we approached I saw trucks parked behind the tents, being loaded with boxes. From afar, the boxes looked the same as the ones I found in the truck when my friends and I were abducted.

"This is the packaging station," the supervisor said. "This is where we receive, pack, and ship out all our Walnut Cherryville products. Walnut Cherryville is the largest local producer of mangos, berries, nuts, and many other assorted fruits."

We walked into a tent decorated with picnic tables, stacks of plastic containers, cardboard boxes, and tabletop produce scales.

"Now, I'm going to take you through the fruit immigration process, so pay attention. This is where all the fruit enters the packing station," he said as he tapped the picnic table. "You will be working here as a progress tracker. Workers from the greenhouse, forest, and fields will be bringing you baskets of produce, and it is your job to collect it from them. When—"

"Excuse me, did you say forest and fields? How is that possible in a desert?" I interrupted.

"That's beside the point. All you need to know is that it's possible."

"But how?"

"Do you mind? I'm trying to give you a tour here!"

"I'm sorry for interrupting; please continue."

"Anyway, when the workers bring the produce they collected, it is your responsibility to weigh it and record on your clipboard how much weight each worker brought in every day. At the end of the day, you will return your clipboard to me, and I will give it to the governor. That is all you really have to do for now. From here, the fruit gets inspected for quality, placed in plastic packaging, and then packed into boxes that are loaded onto the trucks. Now, do you have any questions only related to what you have to do at work?"

"No, I got it. The concept is pretty simple."

"Good, now get to work. You have a line waiting for your attention!"

I sat down at the picnic table and began to weigh the workers' fruit while I kept a close eye on the trucks. I wanted to know where they were going or if they'd show me the way out. Once the trucks were full, the workers closed and locked the sliding doors. A driver got into each truck; it seemed like every truck only had one driver. The trucks started their engines and pulled out one at a time before they waited in line. One by one, they made a right turn and followed the perimeter of the fence for a long time. I almost began to lose track of them. The trucks were so far away, they looked like tiny ants crawling to their destination. Suddenly, I saw the ant-sized trucks make a left turn. Was this the way out of the village? It must be, because somehow these trucks found us in Phoenix. So I found a way out, but there must be some other complications that would make escaping more difficult than it seemed. From what I heard, this village took abandonment pretty seriously, so they must have been watching us somehow.

After I took care of the last worker in line, I got up to walk around and search for cameras.

"Where are you going?" my supervisor asked.

"I got up to stretch my legs and walk around," I said. "I took care of the line."

"Stay in this area. Don't wander around."

"OK."

This area was the only area I needed to examine. I walked along where the trucks were parked and looked for evidence of cameras. Who watched this place at night once everyone returned to the glass house? A new truck arrived and honked at me to get out of the way. I moved aside, and it drove past me. Once the truck was parked, the driver got out and opened the trunk. The truck was empty, so I walked just close enough to get a good view of the inside without looking suspicious. As far as I could tell, I didn't see any cameras inside the truck, but there were dome surveillance cameras on the overhang of the tents, watching the workers load the trucks.

I walked back to my table and continued to weigh fruit as I thought about the situation. I would imagine whoever was watching the feed from these cameras was probably watching pretty closely. Smashing the cameras would attract too much attention. Depending on the amount of light there was at night, it would be best to be invisible and sneak around in the shadows.

What happened to the trucks at night? Were they locked? If so, who held the key? Were they full of boxes for us to hide in, or were they empty? Did the trucks sit here overnight, or did they arrive in the morning? How would everyone make sure their supervisors didn't notice they were gone? I might have found a way out, but a way with lots of risks and unknowns. Should I tell the others about it? Collins seemed pretty desperate to get out of here before he even knew what this place was about. I was intrigued by this place, and I wanted to learn more. There was so much to uncover.

I could only imagine what would happen if I told the others about this too soon. Collins would overreact and put a lot of pressure on everyone to plan the escape quickly. Johnny would plan an escape that he thought was logical, but it would be sloppy and full of holes and risks. Laura wouldn't do anything to help, and if we got caught, she'd seduce the punisher in exchange for her own freedom. That would be a disaster. The best escape plans were the ones that were well thought out and examined every possible obstacle. To make a feasible plan, everyone had to continue to act like normal citizens, so we could gather more information without attracting any unwanted attention. For the safety of my friends, I was not going to tell them about this until the time was right. We might only have one shot at escaping, and I didn't want them to mess it up.

Spending the entire day weighing fruit was fairly boring, so I tried to find ways to make it more interesting. During my downtime, I drummed on the table with my pencil and doodled on the back of the papers and then erased it. Toward the end of the day, a strange young Asian woman came up to me with fifty pounds of mangos. Up until now, no one had brought in this much fruit. The woman was petite and thin and looked as if she herself only weighed one hundred pounds. Her uniform and hands were bloody, but I didn't spot any wounds.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

She first looked at me as if she didn't know why I'd be asking her that.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just a few cuts, that's all."

The amount of blood on her hands and the spots on her uniform looked like more than a few cuts.

"What's your name?"

"Amy Chang."

I searched the list for her name and recorded that she brought in fifty pounds of mangos.

"OK, you're all set," I said. "You should wash those cuts before they get infected."

"I will. Thank you. Have a good day," she responded before she walked away with her basket.

I glanced at the rest of the list and noticed Laura was on it. At five minutes to five, she still hadn't brought in any fruit, while everyone else brought in at least one basket. I wondered what could have happened to her. Hopefully she hadn't already gotten herself into trouble.

"What happens when a worker doesn't bring in any fruit?" I asked my supervisor.

"You record that they didn't bring in any weight."

"What happens to the worker who doesn't bring in any weight?"

"Well, it depends on how many times they're slacking," he explained. "In all divisions, every time a worker in all divisions doesn't perform their job up to standards, they don't receive shower coins at the end of the day. You get one coin per day. If the worker slacks on their work more than three times, the supervisor must evaluate why the worker isn't doing well and write a report to the government. The government will decide the worker's fate based on their supervisor's report. Some workers try really hard and physically can't do the task chosen for them, so the government places them at a new job. Others who refuse to work or purposely do their work poorly face further punishment decided by the court."

"There is a legal system here?"

"Vincent, think about Walnut Cherryville the same way you think about anywhere else you've ever been. Everywhere you go, there is a government that makes laws you must follow and citizens working to support their economy. Citizens don't work to support themselves here; they work to support their economy, which is why the government doesn't like when a worker isn't pulling their weight. Any money Walnut Cherryville makes is used to buy supplies, pay bills, and upgrade our living conditions. So the more weight in fruit the workers bring in, the more money the village gets, which could turn into an extra pillow for every citizen or something like that."

"That's very interesting."

"Well, it's five o'clock, time for everyone to start closing up," he said, before he walked away.

I gave him my clipboard, but unfortunately Laura never showed up. At least all she'd miss was a shower for now. I stayed at my post to watch the workers during closing time. They finished packing their last box, taped it up, and loaded it onto the truck. It looked like some trucks had more boxes in them than others, so that could be a problem if the truck we hid in didn't have enough boxes for us to hide behind. After the trucks were locked up, the workers returned the keys to my supervisor. All the trucks looked the same, as did all the keys, so if I were to steal one, I wouldn't be able to tell which truck I was getting, or how many boxes were in that truck until we found out which truck that key opened. The fact that we'd have to go from truck to truck, trying to figure out which truck that key opened would add extra risk of us being seen by the cameras. How did the workers know which key belonged to which truck? There must have been a label I wasn't seeing from here. Everyone started to clear the area and walk back to the glass house, so I tagged along with them. I could do more investigating tomorrow.

Chapter 7: Laura

Ever since I was a little girl living on Hillsdale Court, my father always told me that nothing in life was free. His favorite example was the story of my grandparents, his mother and father, who immigrated to America from Norway with only twenty dollars in their pockets. They both worked in the restaurant industry for years, starting as dishwashers and eventually becoming chefs at a New York City Italian restaurant. Neither of them ever went to college, and they learned all the tricks of the trade by working at that restaurant. After years and years of hard work, they earned enough money to move out west and open up their own restaurant, called Little Italy. Little Italy, now owned by my father, was the most popular Italian restaurant in Phoenix.

My grandparents started a tradition of strong work ethics that pulsed through my family. Being a Hansen meant that we never accepted any handouts and that we had always worked for what we had. When my father was twelve years old, his parents put him to work as a dishwasher at Little Italy and paid him a dollar an hour. To follow the tradition, my parents put me to work when I was twelve years old, washing dishes for three dollars an hour. Once I became a working girl, my parents paid only for the food I ate and the roof over my head. They expected that I'd pay for everything else I wanted or needed with my three-dollar-an-hour salary. They must have forgotten about inflation.

Since I was so busy with school and activities, I didn't have much time to work during the week, so I mostly worked on the weekends. I never understood why I needed to work at such a young age when my family made tons of money off the restaurant. Dad was always extremely cheap when it came to buying things the family needed, such as appliances that functioned properly.

One time he bought a used washer from a garage sale that ripped up my new Jorie tank from Abercrombie & Fitch. I had just bought that tank with my own money and I only got to wear it once. There was fifty dollars of my weekly salary torn to shreds by a secondhand washer. When I told Dad about what his washer did to my tank top, he said, "Shit happens," and "Go get yourself a new one." Disappointed by his lack of compassion, I complained to Mom. If there was anyone who understood how annoying Dad's cheapness was better than me, it was Mom. Mom was a high-maintenance woman, a master of seduction and persuasion and a woman who knew how to get what she wanted. She was so good, she somehow persuaded Dad to buy a $500,000 house on Hillsdale Court. Once I complained to Mom, the secondhand washer was replaced with a brand-spanking-new one the next day.

I always knew Mom married Dad for his money, so who knows if they actually loved each other. Mom never worked a day in her life, and I didn't know how that was possible until she gave me "the talk." Usually teenagers dread the talk, but the talk I got had very little to do with my period. Instead, she taught me how to be a woman that gets what she wants. She showed me how to dress in a tempting way without being too revealing. She taught me how to play hard-to-get and when to walk away from useless relationships. She gave me lessons on how to keep all my potential suitors interested until I found one worth marrying. She explained that a man worth marrying is one who keeps in shape, has a high-paying job, and is willing to do anything for me.

By the time I was fourteen, I was sick of being the only person in school who didn't have a cell phone, an iPod, or even a computer. I had to find some way to make more money but still have enough time to wash dishes at the restaurant. That was when I decided to test Mom's theories on the boys at school, and, surprisingly, everything she said worked. Boys would buy me a computer or iPod just for making out with them, flashing them my breasts, and giving them some dirty pictures.

The cell phone, on the other hand, was a little more of a challenge. I actually had to get into a real relationship for that one, which felt really awkward. His name was Randy, he was sixteen, and he wanted to talk all the time, which was why he bought me a cell phone. While I was technically Randy's girl, I continued to see other people because I knew I could do better. Eventually, when I was fifteen, I did find something better in Ron, the freshman college student I lost my virginity to for a credit card in his name.

* * *

"Laura," a tiny man called out.

My mind snapped back to Walnut Cherryville reality...or maybe not...unless I was really seeing a tiny midget with a fiery–red, receding hairline. Orange was not a good color on him. He tied his blue bandana on his head before he led me out of the glass building.

"Good morning, Laura," he said. "My name is Tim and welcome to the gatherers. It's a fairly long walk to the forest, so bear with me as I entertain you with my lovely singing voice. Feel free to sing along if you'd like."

Tiny Tim started singing what sounded like Irish music, which was confirmed when I saw him occasionally walk like he was in Riverdance. By the time we reached the forest, I had all his moves memorized. It wasn't until I saw the massive trees towering over us that I realized when he said forest, he actually meant a real forest.

At the entrance to the forest sat a pile of baskets. He held out a basket to me, but I hardly noticed because I was so entranced by the trees. The line between desert and forest was so abrupt. I reached down, grabbed a handful of sand, and then touched the tree that was two steps in front of me.

"Laura, please take the basket; my arm is getting tired."

"Oh, sorry," I said, taking the basket.

"The entrance to the forest is marked by these baskets. Every day you will take a basket or two and venture out into the wonderful world of trees. Your assignment is to collect as many almost-ripe mangos as you can. If you're unsure of what we're looking for, there is a picture of an almost-ripe mango in your basket, so look for mangos that look like your picture. Just so you know, mangos grow on trees, so you might have to do a little climbing. When you've filled your basket, you need to check it in at the packaging station, which you can find by following all the footprints that lead out of the forest. You will repeat this process until the sun goes down. After that, your day is over, and you may return to the glass building. Any questions?"

"No," I said before he walked away.

I stepped into the forest and started looking for mango trees. Every tree I found had someone else picking off it, so I chose a tree at random.

"Hey, I claimed this tree—get off!" a man yelled out.

To avoid an argument, I walked away from the tree and continued searching for one that wasn't claimed by someone else. It took a long time, but I eventually found the perfect tree in an area secluded from other gatherers. I walked around and underneath the tree, collecting all the mangos I could reach. I dropped them on the ground until I was done collecting, and then I placed them in the basket.

There were still several mangos up on the higher branches, so I climbed the tree, which was difficult and made my muscles ache. I rested on a branch for a few minutes before I continued to drop mangos down to the ground. All of a sudden, I heard footsteps approaching, so I looked around. A young Asian woman grabbed my basket of mangos, but I stopped her before she could get away.

"Hey," I yelled as I fell from the tree and toppled on the girl, making her drop the basket. I sat on her back and moved the basket out of her reach.

"Get off me," she cried. "You're hurting me!"

"Why do you want to steal my basket?" I yelled. "Why do you want to steal my basket?"

She didn't answer, and her crying stopped. As a matter of fact, it felt like she wasn't breathing. I got off her, flipped her on to her back, and poked her a bit. Her eyes were closed.

"Are you OK?"

Out of nowhere, her eyes shot open, and she jammed a spork shiv into my cheek followed by a swift open-palm punch to the nose. I fell onto my back—it's on, bitch! As she stood up, I quickly reached into my basket and threw a mango at her boob. I got back on my feet and smeared the blood that dripped from my nose on my uniform sleeve. I gave her the look of death—the same look I gave girls at school who wore the same outfit as me—while she rubbed her boob in pain. She came at me with a dozen Kung Fu moves and blocked all my attacks. She kicked me to the ground and took my basket of mangos with her bloody hands. I grabbed a handful of dirt as she turned away.

"Hey, bitch," I said to get her attention. First, provide a distraction. When she turned, I threw dirt in her eyes, so I could beat her up American-style. Second, make her lose control. I grabbed her by the hair, pulled her down, and forced her to eat the dirt. Third, finish her! I rolled onto her and punched her in the face repeatedly like a cowboy in those old Western films. Unfortunately for me, that girl was flexible enough to kick me behind the head and knock me out. As my world turned black, I fell to the ground and ate the dirt. It was OK, she might have won this battle, but I wouldn't let her defeat me again. I would find a way to get back at her. Laura out...

* * *

When I woke up a few hours later, I had no clue where I was. It made me slightly happy to find out that somebody was nice enough to take me out of the forest and put me in a bed. The bed was similar to those I found in medical offices that are lined with paper and have paper blankets. Beneath my paper blanket, I wore a white cotton robe that tied in the back. This wasn't what I was wearing when I passed out. I sat up and looked around the room. No one else was in here but me. Two rows of five beds were surrounded by blank walls. Suddenly, the door opened, and a man wearing a white Walnut Cherryville jumpsuit walked in with a stethoscope around his neck and a file in his hands.

"Ah, Laura, you're finally up," he said.

"Where am I?"

"Don't be alarmed; you're in the medical wing."

I was confused. "How did anyone know I needed help?"

"Someone must have seen you pass out, and they pressed your red button. We tracked your location in the forest and brought you here. The nurses cleaned you up and changed your clothes. How are you feeling?"

"I have a headache, and I feel tired. My nose hurts."

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"I was picking mangos, and someone tried to steal them. We got into a fight."

"Were there any witnesses?"

"Not that I could tell, no."

"When that person was attacking you, did you fight back physically?"

"Well, yeah, I had to defend myself."

"You're lucky the guards didn't see you. If that person tries to attack you again, press your medical button, and try to move somewhere where there are a lot of people around. Walnut Cherryville has a very strict no-violence policy, so next time don't fight back, and only the attacker will be punished in court instead of both of you."

"Am I in trouble?"

"You're not, as long as no one witnessed the fight and there is no visual evidence like pictures or film from the security cameras. Unfortunately, despite all the efforts the Quintons made to get people to stop fighting, none of it has helped. The highest volume of patients we get in the medical wing come from people who have injuries from physical violence. I'd say if someone hasn't opened a case by next week, then no one saw the fight, and you're in the clear."

I sighed as I lay back down. "The girl made a shiv out of a spork! Now my cheek will be scarred for life."

"I think after a few months the scar will hardly be noticeable. We did a full examination on you while you were unconscious, and we found no broken bones. Your nose and eyes will appear bruised for a while, but that should go away in a few weeks. We also did a blood test and found that you have an HIV infection. Were you already aware of this?"

My eyes started to water as I lay in silence. I purposely never got tested for STDs before because I'd rather live my life in ignorant bliss. The less I knew about what was going on in my body, the better I felt. I never really thought much about how my promiscuous sexual activity could give me a life-changing disease. Since hardly anyone had HIV anymore, I always thought that something this serious could never happen to me...Apparently I was wrong.

"No," I replied. "How is this possible? I don't feel sick at all."

"Many people do not develop symptoms after getting infected with HIV," he explained. "Some people have a flu-like illness within several days to several weeks after exposure to the virus, but these symptoms go away in a few weeks. You could even live for ten years without showing any symptoms."

"What do I do now?"

"Try not to stress about it too much and just live your life. If for any reason you feel sick, just press the red button. We will help you ease the pain in any way possible."

"How much time do I have left to live?"

"Well, right now you only have the HIV infection, which has not developed into AIDS yet. I'd say you still have several years, but I can't give you an exact number, since there isn't a known way for me to figure that out."

A nurse knocked on the door and let herself in. "Laundry services delivered you a clean uniform and biohazard bags. From now on, you will need to put all your dirty laundry in the biohazard bags instead of in regular ones, so laundry services will know to separate your items from the rest." She handed me a bunch of bags and a clean uniform.

"Why don't you get changed and meet me out in the hall, so I can show you the way out," the doctor said before he and the nurse left the room.

I took off the white cotton gown and returned to my orange jumpsuit. This couldn't be happening to me. Part of me didn't want to believe the doctor even though I knew he was right. He said live your life...How was I supposed to enjoy living my life when I knew I was going to die? I might not even make it past thirty-seven years old. What was there to enjoy about my life? When I was admitted into the correctional school, I lost all the personal belongings I worked for. Not to mention the fact that I was here, in Walnut Cherryville, with no personal belongings at all, and I worked a crappy job for free. If I ever got out of Walnut Cherryville, how would I live my life differently from before?

I walked out of the room, and the doctor directed me to the cafeteria, where I met up with Johnny, Collins, and Vincent for dinner. Once we were settled at a table with our roast beef, potato, and green bean dinner, we hashed out the details of our first day at work.

"Laura, what happened to your face?" Vincent asked.

"Someone stole my mangos."

"Was it an Asian woman named Amy Chang?"

"Fits the description."

"What did she do to you? It looks pretty bad."

"She beat me up, but that wasn't even the worst part of my day."

I wasn't sure if I should tell them that I had HIV. Maybe if I didn't tell them right away, it would feel like less of a reality. Besides, I couldn't handle any more emotional stress right now. The normal me would focus on getting revenge on Amy and act like there wasn't anything else wrong.

"I was wondering where you were because I saw you on my list," Vincent said. "You were the only one who didn't bring in any fruit."

"I didn't bring in any fruit because that bitch stole it from me! Are you the person I'm supposed to bring my fruit to?"

"Yep, you give me the fruit, and I record the weight."

"Well, that works out," I said. "Could you do me a huge favor? Would it be possible for you to fudge the numbers...you know, 'cook the books?'"

"I don't know if that would be the best idea, Laura," Vincent said. "It might hinder our chances of getting out of here."

"So does this mean you're on board with helping us escape from Walnut Hellville?" Collins asked.

"I never said I wasn't," Vincent responded.

"Vincent, I really need you to do this for me," I insisted.

"Nothing you need him to do is more important than everyone getting out of here, Laura," Collins said.

"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't be saying that if this happened to your face!"

"Everyone calm down," Johnny shouted. "I know we're all frustrated, but I have good news. Veronica said she might help us get out of here."

"I'm sorry; why is that good news?" Collins asked.

"Veronica has been working here for years, and she hates it," Johnny replied. "She's very knowledgeable about Walnut Cherryville, so we can all put our heads together and come up with a realistic escape plan."

"But how do we know we can trust her?" Collins demanded. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his uniform and slapped it on the table. "This is a list of laws and punishments for breaking those laws. The punishment for abandoning the village is death. We only have one shot at escaping, and if we don't make it, we die!"

"Which is exactly why we need Veronica on our team," Johnny added. "She showed me the Quintons' secret library and gave me a book about how to survive in the desert."

"I don't know," Collins responded. "Vincent, Laura, what do you think about Veronica knowing our escape plan?"

"Doesn't matter what we think anymore because she already knows," Vincent replied. "We just have to hope she won't tell anyone else."

"I feel we can trust her," Johnny said.

"I hope you're right," I added. "Changing the subject; if you knew you only had a few years left to live, what would you do with yourselves?"

"I would backpack around the world," Johnny said. "Fall off the radar."

"Go to college," Collins added. "I hear people say their college years are the best years of their lives. Besides all those fun classes you have to take, there are hot girls, parties, and basketball."

"I don't really like to make plans for my life, so whatever happens, happens," Vincent said. "Are you having second thoughts about what you want to do with your life?"

"You could say that," I responded.

"Hmm...I wonder what caused the sudden change of heart."

"You know, Vincent, I really think switching me and Amy's numbers will do no harm. It's not like you're making the numbers up; you're just switching them."

"Are you just saying that because you're mad that she beat you up or because you really want a shower?"

"Both."

Vincent pulled out a shower coin from his pocket and handed it to me. "Here, you can have my shower coin."

"Wow, thank you, at least a nice shower will temporarily make me feel better," I said. "And what are you going to do about Amy beating me up?"

"I will switch the numbers if I find that doing so provides no risks to our escape," Vincent responded. "But you have to work harder to bring in some weight. I can't save your butt every time. If you get a bad evaluation from your supervisor, it puts us all at risk."

"Yeah, I've already accomplished that," Collins added. "I had to go to court today for using my cleaning cart as a scooter and breaking their vacuum."

"What the hell, Collins?" Laura shouted. "You're so childish."

"That was totally uncalled for, Laura; you're not the only one who had a bad day," Collins responded. "I didn't get a shower coin either, and you don't see me begging for one. Johnny, did you get a shower coin?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I did, but I'm not giving it up because I have to wash the Mama off me."

"The what?"

"I'd rather not talk about it; I'm scared for my life."

"Well, in other news, my day was kind of normal considering where we are," Vincent added.

Johnny, Collins, and I all looked at Vincent with a disapproving glare.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said anything."

Chapter 8: Collins

On my second day of work as a janitor, I got a little further in the cleaning process than I did on my first day, but apparently not far enough. After I refilled my bottles with cleaners and attached a new vacuum to my cart, I started to clean the entertainment room. I picked up the mess people left from last night, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the carpet. This was the first room I cleaned today, and I was already tired before I even cleaned the windows. At breakfast, Veronica warned me again not to eat such a big meal before work, but I didn't listen because the pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon, French toast, hash browns, and waffles loaded with maple syrup were far too appetizing. I suffered the consequences of that delicious meal. After I came down from the sugar high, I became really tired and needed a rest, so I sat on the couch for a few minutes, rubbing the food baby in my stomach. Somehow, I must have fallen asleep.

Two hours later, the guards woke me up, cuffed my hands behind my back, and escorted me to court. Apparently, sleeping on the job was a crime, too, even though it was not written on the sheet of laws. I sat on a bench until the judge called my number.

"Approach the bench," she said. "State your name."

"Collins Greene," I said as the guards walked me up to the bench.

The judge's assistant brought the judge my file, and she glanced at it for a few seconds before realizing I was here yesterday.

"Collins, back again so soon?" the judge asked.

"I really missed you, Your Honor," I joked, "I just needed to see you again."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't joke with me. What are his crimes?"

"Absent from work, Your Honor; he was sleeping on the job," a guard said. "May I approach the bench with my evidence?"

"Proceed."

The guard handed over his camera and notepad to the judge. She connected the camera to her computer and printed the pictures. "You're quite a drooler," she said. "This man is guilty as charged." She wrote something in my folder before she added the pictures and the guard's notes to my file. "This is his second offense, so his case will proceed to Chair Trials. Collins, did you read the paper I gave you yesterday?"

"Yes, I did," I replied.

"In my entire ten years of being a judge at Walnut Cherryville, I have never, not once, seen the same person come in here two days in a row," she said. "If you survive, I hope you can learn what you're doing wrong and correct it before it's too late. Good luck with your Chair Trials."

"What do you mean 'if I survive?' What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"You know exactly what it means."

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I had a feeling that she was indicating I might die. In many situations, people used the word survive very loosely.

"Well, if it means what I think it means, can I ask you something? You know, just in case I never see you or anyone else again?"

"Fine, you can ask me a question, but I might not be able to answer it."

"Why is this room bigger on the inside than it is on the outside?"

"Perception filters. Now you must go. Guards take—"

"Wait," I interrupted. "I'm not finished!"

"Collins, I have a job to do. There are people waiting!"

"One more question, just one, I promise!"

"What is it?"

"What do the pictures of the stick people on the outside of the dome mean?"

"I don't know."

"Thank you," I said as the guards dragged me away from the bench and out the door. "Do you guys really have to drag me? I can walk from here."

"Walk then," a guard said before he pushed me.

We walked a short distance through the village before stopping at the back door of a building that had a pyramid structure and was textured like a cheese grater with sharp grooves on its metallic metal surface. Unless there were perception filters around, the building was only two stories high, and I saw a satellite next to the building. There was a sign on the back door that read "Chair Trials Studio: Participant Entrance." Were they taking me into a television studio? I had always wanted to be on television; how did I look? I glanced at my reflection on the building as a guard scanned his key into the key scanner. I wondered what show I was participating in...I hoped it was a reality show; those were always entertaining.

They quickly pushed me in through the backdoor where we entered a long hallway full of jail cells.

Why was Walnut Cherryville obsessed with jail cells? Couldn't they just have waiting rooms like normal people? The cells in this building were much darker than the ones we stayed in the first night we were here because these were totally closed off from the outside. As I walked down the hall, I heard whispers, cries, and coughs, but there wasn't enough light to see much of anything. The lights that hung from the ceiling were weak and flickered a lot.

"Put him in this one," a guard said. They pushed me in the cell, locked the door, and walked away.

I sat in the cell for what felt like hours, thinking about my life. If I could make one phone call before I died, I'd call my grandma in the nursing home and tell her how sorry I was about trying to poison her. Ever since that day I switched her sugar for rat poison when I was fifteen, she never wanted to see me again. When I visited her at the nursing home during the holidays, she wouldn't stop screaming for security to come take me away. Since she was so frightened around me, I was only allowed to visit her while security was in the room. I always brought her fresh flowers and replaced the old ones with new ones. She only remembered me as her murderer, not her grandson, which was unfortunate because she was the only family I had left after my parents died. The doctors diagnosed her with dementia and said she was losing her memory. It was interesting how she forgot how I took care of her for all those years and only remembered that I poisoned her.

I moved in with my grandma when I was twelve because my parents died in a car accident. Grandma was paralyzed from the waist down, so she couldn't do much on her own. During the week, while I was in school, a nurse stayed with Grandma to help her shower and get dressed and to keep her company. Every weekend, we'd take the bus into the nice part of town to go shopping for groceries (and sometimes sundresses) at Wal-Mart. There wasn't anything she loved more than shopping for sundresses at a discount store. As she rolled through the aisles, I followed closely behind, prepared to catch anything she might throw in the basket. Bright, floral patterns were her weakness. When we were done shopping, we'd catch the bus back home, and I would put the groceries away. The remainder of the afternoon was spent watching one of her old flicks from her vast video collection. This was how I spent my weekends every week.

Every waking minute that I wasn't in school, I spent with my grandma getting her everything she needed. Collins, would you fetch me the remote? Collins, make me some tea. Collins, fold up the laundry and put it away. Collins, clean this, clean that...Before I knew it, I was making a fresh dinner for her every night because she hated frozen meals. I cleaned one room every day, so her messes wouldn't get out of hand. I spent so much time on the weekends and after school doing everything she asked that I didn't have enough time for myself. I really wanted to join some afterschool clubs, shoot some hoops in the park, or hang out with friends on the weekends, but Grandma would never let me do anything on my own. She always wanted me to stay in the house just in case she needed something she couldn't do or get on her own. This was frustrating...frustrating enough to put two tablespoons of rat poison into her tea instead of sugar.

Even though what I did was wrong, I didn't totally regret it. Instead of continuing my dreadful life as her maid, I got to go to Sonoran Correctional High School and live out my lost years. Grandma was sent to a nursing home where she finally got the help she needed. Though a lot of good came out of that situation, something equally as bad did, too. My relationship with my grandma was severed forever and could never be repaired.

The guards unlocked the door, pulled me out of my cell, and led me on to the set. Well, I was right about one thing: it was a television studio. The stage was lit brightly and decorated with six chairs and a green screen. Five of the chairs were simple plastic chairs lined up next to each other, facing the camera. The sixth chair was an electric chair that sat in the corner, which made me wonder nervously if that was how I was going to die. What would it feel like to have electric currents running through my body? Would it be a quick death? I didn't know, but I hoped I wouldn't find out.

The guards tied me down to a regular plastic chair, along with four other Walnut Cherryville citizens. Kenneth, who wore a fancy gray suit, walked on to the set, testing his clip-on microphone.

I peered out into the dark auditorium in front of me and saw a theatre full of empty seats. My body twitched uncontrollably, sending me mixed signals of excitement for the fact that I was on a reality television show and fear that I might die. The spotlights above the stage were so hot, they made my forehead sweat. A few minutes later, someone came around and clipped a microphone on to my breast pocket.

"We're on in five, four, three, two, one, action!" a man called out.

"Welcome back to another thrilling episode of Chair Trials," Kenneth said, facing the cameraman. "I'm your host, Kenneth Quinton. Behind me are five criminals who have broken the laws of Walnut Cherryville, and tonight you're going to hear their stories about what they did and why they did it. At the end of the show, you, the viewers in the glass building, get to decide who gets the chair. You will have thirty minutes to place your vote with ComCon at the end of the show. When the thirty minutes are up, we will share the results. Now, let's begin! Our first contestant is Hank from maintenance services. He was charged with vandalism of Walnut Cherryville property. Hank, tell us your story."

The cameraman rolled the camera closer to Hank and zoomed in on his face. It appeared like the studio only had one camera, so the cameraman was constantly maneuvering the camera to get a shot of every contestant from multiple angles.

"Well, maintenance got a call from a woman who claimed the water pressure on one of the showers was weaker than normal, so they put me on the job to fix it. I was assigned to this job despite the fact that I have no repair experience at all. I asked some of the other maintenance guys for help, but they said they were too busy, so I had to fix it the best I could. After playing around with the showerhead, I turned the water on and saw that it was fixed. Later on that day, another woman complained that the pressure was so hard it gave her bruises. I went back and tried to turn the pressure back down, but the adjuster was stuck. I didn't vandalize any property; the shower is still usable."

Hey, look who it was; it was Counselor Hank! I saw him two days ago when Kenneth gave us the tour of the glass building. I was surprised to see him on Chair Trials so soon. This must have been the judge's lucky day...Now she could say for the second time in ten years, she saw the same man in her courtroom two days in a row. I'm glad we put some spice in her life. I'd high five the counselor, but it looked like he was about to become Kenneth's personal punching bag.

"Is it?" Kenneth asked in a stern voice. "Is it still usable?" Kenneth circled around Hank, softly running his hands over Hank's chest. "This," he said softly, "is a gentle stream of water running over your body. After a hard day's work, you've finally earned that shower coin, and you're ready to take a relaxing shower. You crave that soft, crystal caress that gently washes away the dirt and grime of the day." Kenneth stopped behind Hank and started giving him a shoulder massage. "You want your skin to feel as smooth as an apple and let your body unwind at the same time. You never know where your mind will go when the water pressure is just right. I personally can't think of anything better than a summer's mist touching every crevice so playfully that it tickles my soft spots. Only a shower can do that for a person, don't you think? But wait...you still think the shower is usable." Kenneth's tone of voice became increasingly aggressive. "How would you like it if that trickling water you're expecting came down like hail the size of golf balls!" Kenneth repeatedly slapped Hank on the chest, mocking the water pressure. "Bruising your skin, hurting your soft spots, and forcefully pushing you down to the floor!" Kenneth dramatically pushed Hank's plastic chair, causing Hank to fall and hit his head on the wood floor. "You want it to stop! Who took the joy of taking a shower away from you? I know who! It was the maintenance man!" Kenneth pulled Hank's chair upright into sitting position. "It was...Hank," Kenneth said, letting his voice trail off.

Hank's eyes closed, and his head limped to one side.

Hank, are you still there, buddy? I called out in my mind. Hank didn't look so good. As the show went on, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his skin turned pale. He might have had a concussion. I wanted to yell out for help, but if I made a sound, who knew what that douchebag would do to me. He seemed like the type of person who would hide a mini saw in his swanky suit, or possibly some lethal injections. Whatever it might be, I didn't want to find out.

"Contestant number two, Kara from food services, was charged with stealing," Kenneth announced. "Kara, tell us your story."

Kara, an obese freckly woman with braided hair, cried for two minutes straight before she said anything. "I was helping the chefs make dinner one night, and I ate some of the food before dinnertime. I was really hungry, and I could feel my blood sugar dropping, so if I didn't eat, I could have fainted. It's really difficult to stand on your feet all day constantly looking at food and not eat any of it. I never really took that much, just a scrap of food here and there. There was always more than enough food for the citizens at mealtimes. The kitchen usually throws the leftovers away, and if they're going to do that, I might as well eat them."

"Kara, besides stealing, that is completely unsanitary," Kenneth said. "It's like spitting in everyone's food! How do you know you're not getting any chewed-up pieces from your mouth into the food you're serving, huh? Guards, bring me a slice of bread!"

The guards brought out a plate with a single slice of white bread on it. Kenneth tore the bread in half and put one half on his plate and the other in his mouth. He chewed it up real good, spit it out on the other slice, and rolled it up like a burrito. He kneeled down next to Kara and held the chewed-up bread burrito to her mouth. "Open your mouth; it's time to eat."

Kara began crying again as she shook her head from side to side.

Eww...That was so gross, but I guessed I had seen worse.

"Well, if you won't eat this, then I guess I'll have to make it a little more appetizing. Guards, bring out the worms!"

OK, now I felt like I was on Fear Factor, the version where you didn't get $50,000. The guards unraveled the burrito, stuffed the worms inside, and rolled it back up. Kenneth wasn't such a fan of worms either, since he didn't touch it. He forced the guards to feed it to her. I didn't know if it was the worms or the fear of what was coming for me, but my stomach started churning.

"This is your last warning," Kenneth said. "Open your mouth willingly, or we will open it for you!"

Kara refused, so the guards pried her mouth open with their bare hands and stuffed the whole burrito in her mouth. As soon as the guards stepped aside, she spit it out.

"Should we make her eat it again?" a guard asked.

"No, let's move on to the next contestant," Kenneth replied. "Contestant number three, Dave from gathering services, was charged with assault. Dave, tell us your story."

"I didn't assault the girl; she agreed to have sex with me, so we did it in the forest."

"If this was true, then she wouldn't have pushed her medical button. The medical wing said that Donna, the girl you raped, had severe bruising on her thighs and internal bleeding in her vagina and anus. She denies agreeing to have sex with you."

"Well, she lied to you."

"I'm sure she wouldn't lie about that," Kenneth replied before he snapped his fingers at the guards.

Three guards approached Dave with a baseball bat, forcefully separated his legs and rammed the tip of the bat into his balls! The guards performed this horrific act with straight faces.

Never in my life have I seen a man kick another man in the balls and not feel sympathy pain. Every man knows how bad that hurts, so I'd never expect a guy to hurt another guy in the balls...only girls do that.

"Contestant number four, Roy from laundry services, was absent from work," Kenneth said. "Roy, tell us your story."

"I showed up for work every day, loaded the washer, and cleaned the clothes like I was supposed to, until one day, Mama, my supervisor, said she wanted to get married. I refused to marry her, so she made up a story about me not showing up for work."

"Roy, you must listen to everything your supervisor says and do everything she asks."

"But marrying her has nothing to do with cleaning laundry," Roy debated.

"I know, but those are the rules, and you must follow them. If you are not the audience choice for tonight's Chair Trials, then you will marry Mama."

What??? Kenneth actually let a contestant go without doing anything horrible to them? Maybe I will be this lucky. Mama was the reason why I couldn't have Johnny's shower coin. What the hell goes on in laundry services that's so bad?

"And finally, last but not least, contestant number five," Kenneth said. "Collins from janitorial services was charged with absence from work. Collins, tell us your story."

The camera was right up in my face front and center.

"There isn't much of a story to tell," I said.

"I doubt that," Kenneth replied as the cameraman turned to film Kenneth's response. "If you're on Chair Trials, then there's a reason why you're here. What's your reason?"

The cameraman got a wide shot of all the contestants sitting together.

"I fell asleep while cleaning the entertainment room, that's all."

"Can you believe that?" Kenneth spoke as he jumped into the wide shot. "This lazy janitor was sleeping while everyone else was hard at work! How do you feel about that, Walnut Cherryville citizens?"

A voice-recorded booing sound filled the room.

"You're exactly right; I feel the same way," Kenneth said. "Collins, why did you sleep on the job?"

"Because I was tired."

"Did you hear that?" Kenneth spoke as he pointed at the camera. He continued ranting as he slowly walked toward the camera, causing the cameraman to walk backward in order to keep up. "He quit cleaning because he was tired. Your entertainment room is a filthy mess because Collins, the janitor, was too tired to clean it. He didn't care enough about other Walnut Cherryville citizens to make sure they had a clean and comfortable room to watch the show. Just to show you how much we appreciate your heartless laziness, I have concocted a special surprise for you."

Kenneth stepped out of the picture as the guards brought in a metal garbage pail full of stinky garbage from backstage. Whoever threw this garbage away didn't even use a bag. The cameraman wheeled closer and filmed the guards dumping the trash out over my head.

Rotten banana peels, meat scraps, dirty napkins...the smell was wretched. It felt like slimy bugs were crawling on me, so I tried to shake the garbage off by wobbling in my chair without screaming. Normally, screaming like a girl was what I'd usually do, but not today. Today, I was going to be tough and not give Kenneth the satisfaction of hearing my fear. I held in my scream so well that it only let out a peep, which no one noticed. I wanted to show the viewers that Collins was cool, and he could take punishment as well as Kenneth could dish it!

"Now it's time for you to vote," Kenneth announced. "Which one of these five criminals least deserves another chance to live among us? Cast your vote with ComCon, and we'll see you back here in thirty minutes. Happy voting!"

"Cut," a man yelled out. "That's a wrap!"

Chapter 9: Johnny

My objective today was to be invisible, so I could avoid confrontations with Mama. I figured maybe if she couldn't see me, she'd forget about me and go hug somebody else, but that wasn't the case. When I came into work this morning, she had all of us line up in a single file to kiss her at her desk. OK, what could be grosser than Mama? Mama after she kissed half the men in laundry services. I coughed, sneezed, and even threw up a little bit of my breakfast to try to get out of it.

"I'm sorry Mama, I'm sick, and I don't want you to catch this bad flu I have," I said.

"That's OK, you can kiss me on the cheek," Mama replied.

It was difficult enough for me to even do that! My body froze for two minutes before I found the energy to inch my lips to her cheek and give her a peck.

She giggled like a little school girl and blushed with her hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Johnny, that was beautiful. Do you want to go out on a date with me tonight after work?"

Was I allowed to say no? "I think I'm just going to cuddle up in my sleeping bag and fall asleep after work. I'm really not feeling well. I think it's the stomach flu, and I may throw up a few times. Tonight isn't really the best night for a date."

"Eating together in the cafeteria would make you feel better," she responded.

I highly doubted it. She was the last person I would want to watch eat in the cafeteria. She'd probably force me to play footsies with her under the table or hold her hand. I bet she was one of those people who would reach their fork across the table and take my food without asking. I could imagine sitting across from her, watching her scarf down three plates of food in large bites. In my mind, she didn't close her mouth while she chewed, but even worse, she talked with her mouth full and spit all over me. Going on a dinner date with her would mentally scar me for life...if that hadn't already happened yet.

"I'll think about it," I said before she moved on to the next guy.

During the time I wasn't collecting or dropping off laundry, I hid behind the dirty uniforms that hung on the rack, quietly rubbing out the stains with stain stick. I went on mostly unnoticed, except for once, when Mama came over to tell me how excited she was for our date. That was the last straw. There was no way I was going out on a date with Mama, in public, where all my friends could see. Sorry, lady, you're getting stood up!

Normally, I'd feel bad about standing a lady up on a date, but I'm going to make an exception with this one. I had a girlfriend once when I was fourteen. We met up every day for three weeks during lunch and had a conversation through the fence. It wasn't really a conversation, more like me listening to her bitch about her roommates while I nodded occasionally and agreed with her accusations. I didn't even know what she was talking about more than half the time. When I did comprehend what she was saying, she was always comparing how she looked to the other girls and complaining how she wasn't pretty enough. Sure, her face was rounder than the other girls, her hair frizzed easier, and she had a little more junk in the trunk, but I didn't really care about that. At the end of lunch, she'd kiss me on the lips for free because she liked that I listened to her talk. I never really got to say much, so I didn't know if she actually liked me. When she was feeling bad about how she looked, I picked the yellow and purple weeds from the ground and gave them to her to show her that she was beautiful just the way she was. That always cheered her up.

By the third week, she had gotten so used to me listening to her talk by the gate that she expected me to do it every day. The one day I didn't do it, she thought I was standing her up, but I wasn't because I was literally a short distance away, talking to my friends. I tried to explain this to her, but she broke up with me the next day. Now that I've learned how mad girls get when men stand them up, this might signal Mama to back off.

I visited Veronica while I was dropping off the clean rags to the kitchen at the end of the day. She agreed to help us escape, so we planned a group meeting in my room after dinner. I told her to bring me some dinner since I wasn't going to show up for Mama's date in the cafeteria.

Later that night Veronica, Laura, Vincent, and I met up in my room. Veronica brought me a plate of chicken parmesan, mixed vegetables, and spaghetti.

"Thanks for the food, Veronica," I said with my mouth full. "Has anyone seen Collins?"

Everyone seemed clueless about the whereabouts of Collins.

"The fact that none of us know where he is can't be good," Vincent said. "I hope he's not in trouble again."

"He's going to ruin it for all of us," Laura complained.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said. "We'll discuss the escape, and I'll tell him the plan later."

"OK, so I'll start," Veronica said as she handed everyone a pen. She folded and then neatly tore a sheet of paper up into six pieces and distributed them. "This extra paper is for Collins," she said before setting it down on the glass floor.

"Do we need to take notes?" Laura asked.

"I wouldn't take too many notes and don't write in complete sentences. If you lose this piece of paper, you don't want anyone to read it and know what it means. Only write what you can't remember," Veronica said.

"Are you sure this is a safe place to talk about this?" Vincent asked. "I see security cameras."

"This is the safest place," Veronica responded. "The cameras can't hear what we're saying; they only see what we're doing. Workers meet up to chat all the time, so security won't find it suspicious. Just keep your voices down because guards might pass by in the hallway. Now, first, before we think about how we're going to...you know...we need to prepare for how we will survive in the desert. Johnny is reading the book I gave him, which will help us with that."

"I'm going to read from the book a list of items that we will need at bare minimum, so let me know if you think you have access to these items at work," I said before I opened the book and began to read.

Veronica volunteered to steal a knife (to cut open cactus in case we ran out of water), matches, food such as instant soup and trail mix, and water jugs from the kitchen. Laura volunteered to steal tweezers (to remove cactus needles), mosquito repellent, sanitation wipes, and a first aid kit from the medical wing. She also said she'd collect wood (to burn for warmth in case we got stranded at night) while she picked mangos. I would collect plastic bags (to carry essentials and collect water from plants and trees). Unclaimed items: water purification tablets, flashlight, spare batteries, compass, map, and a large piece of white sheeting (to protect us from the sun while resting during the day). These items weren't claimed because we didn't know where to find them, so Veronica said she'd look into how we could get them.

"Everyone needs to hide the items they collect in their sleeping bags," I said, "unless they are too big; then we will have to collect them right before we...you know. Also, everyone will need to bring their sleeping bags."

"OK, so what are we planning to do? Are we just going to walk out the gate with all this stuff?" Laura asked. "I don't think that will work."

"We don't really have a plan yet," I said. "No matter what our plan ends up being, we will need this stuff because we're traveling through the desert. If we don't have it, it won't matter if we get out of here because we won't survive out there."

"I have a plan," Vincent said. "When we were abducted, they put us in a produce truck. I work in packaging services, where the produce trucks are loaded with boxes of fruit before they ride off into the sunset. I think those trucks are our way out, but I don't know how we would get in them without being seen. There are security cameras watching the loading area."

"Can't we just break them?" Laura asked.

"No, because that would probably sound an alert and cause the guards to secure the packaging area more than usual," Vincent responded.

"He's right," Veronica said. "We would have to get into the trucks at a time when everyone is distracted or possibly even make a distraction of our own."

I was peering outside on the sandy village below, when the glass pane suddenly burst into colors. Startled, I fell back onto Veronica's lap with wide eyes, unsure of what I would see next. Kenneth's image appeared on the glass, which operated like a television.

"Good evening, Walnut Cherryville citizens. A new episode of Chair Trials will air in five minutes," Kenneth said through the screen. "Please stop what you're doing, and return to the glass building to view the show. The guards will begin their perimeter sweep now."

The motion picture faded and returned to clear glass.

"What was that?" I asked, still frightened by the glass.

"Don't worry, Johnny; could you get off my leg," Veronica said. "You gave it pins and needles."

"Sorry," I said as I sat up and touched the glass.

"Jonathan Cockit-Gilbertson, how may I help you?" the glass pane asked me in a robotic woman's voice.

"Whoa," I said in awe.

"I'm sorry, I do not understand 'whoa,'" she said.

"This...is...amazing," Vincent said as he stood up and touched the glass.

"Vincent Henderson-Smith, how may I help you?"

"Do you know what this is, guys?" Vincent said excitedly while Laura and I looked confused. "It's an interactive, photovoltaic, LCD, frameless design, damage-resistant, weather-resistant, thermally durable, tough, electro-optic, large-pane, display glass!"

"You are correct," the glass said.

"Why does Walnut Cherryville have this?" Laura asked. "It doesn't exist yet."

"If it didn't exist yet, Laura, then you wouldn't be looking at it," Vincent replied.

"This is Walnut Cherryville's communication system," Veronica explained. "It's mostly used to air Chair Trials and send messages to people in the village. If you do use it, be careful what you say because messages are monitored by the government. It also can give you information like the time, daily weather, what's being served in the cafeteria, you know, stuff like that."

"Best...device...ever," Vincent said, still in awe.

"Don't get too attached, Vincent, you're going to have to leave her," Laura said.

The guards stormed the hallways of the glass building, and citizens piled into their rooms for the show. About a minute later, the glass lit up with colors again, and I heard people cheering and applauding on the show and in other neighboring rooms. The screen turned red with yellow writing that said, "Chair Trials will begin in five, four, three, two, one..." Kenneth appeared on the screen again, standing in front of a theatrical red curtain.

"Welcome back to another thrilling episode of Chair Trials. I'm your host, Kenneth Quinton. Behind me are five criminals that have broken the laws of Walnut Cherryville, and tonight you're going to hear their stories about what they did and why they did it. At the end of the show, you, the viewers in the glass building, get to decide who gets the chair. You will have thirty minutes to place your vote with ComCon at the end of the show. When the thirty minutes are up, we will share the results. Now, let's begin!" The red curtain opened, and the camera took a wide shot of the contestants tied to chairs before it zoomed in on Hank. "Our first contestant is Hank from maintenance services. He was charged with vandalism of Walnut Cherryville property. Hank, tell us your story."

"Did I just see...Collins?" I asked.

"I saw him, too," Vincent said. "He's on the far right. What is he doing on this show?"

"Looks like he got his second strike," Veronica said. "This is bad."

"How bad?" I asked.

"If he gets the most votes...he'll die in the electric chair."

Chair Trials lasted for thirty minutes and was by far the most horrifying show I ever saw. Kenneth was a crazy pervert who seemed to get off on watching people suffer. The worst part about it was hearing that the only time citizens of Walnut Cherryville got a choice about something was when they were voting for who died on Chair Trials. So I couldn't choose where I wanted to work or what I wanted to wear, but I could choose who died on some stupid show where the host over-exaggerated the severity of citizen's crimes? That was just messed up! Some of those people didn't even commit real crimes that would be punishable in America. Were we even still in America? I had no idea how a place like this could exist within driving distance of Phoenix. Maybe when they knocked us out with their poison, they put us in a truck, flew us somewhere, and then put us in another truck. What if we were in another country? We needed to find a map pronto.

"I know this may sound bad," Veronica said. "But we have to vote for someone to divert the votes away from Collins as much as possible."

"No, it's not our right to decide who lives and who dies," Laura argued. "That's morally wrong and unfair. Every one of those contestants is a person just living their life. How would—"

"Laura, Collins is my best friend," I interrupted. "Besides Counselor Hank, whom I feel very sorry for, I don't know anyone else up there. Are you telling me that you purposely won't divert the vote away from Collins because you feel bad about voting?"

"And you don't?"

"I feel that it's wrong, too, but I'd do it to save my best friend. Who would you do it for?" Laura went silent and stopped arguing with me. I think I got my point across. "No one vote for Collins or Hank. We should all vote for the same person."

"We should vote for Dave," Veronica said. "He's the only one up there that actually committed a real crime, and yes, he really rapes people."

"It's settled, then," I said. "We're all voting for Dave. Veronica, what is ComCon?"

"It's the Communications Connect system that you guys were playing with earlier," Veronica replied. Veronica touched the glass.

"Veronica Rodriguez, how may I help you?"

"I would like to vote for tonight's Chair Trials."

"Retrieving content now...Content is now available."

Veronica pressed on Dave's picture on the touch screen and then selected submit. The rest of us did the same.

"We're horrible people," Laura commented.

The thirty minutes I had to wait for the Chair Trials results felt like the longest thirty minutes of my life. Fortunately, diverting the vote worked, and Collins was saved. I was angry he got himself in trouble again but was relieved that he was alive. Dave earned 65 percent of the vote, which made Veronica happy that the rapist wouldn't be around to rape any more.

The guards unraveled Dave from his plastic chair and strapped him into the electric chair. Laura threw my sleeping bag over her head so she couldn't see it. They wet a sponge and placed it on Dave's head before the electric current started pulsing though his body. It was a terrible sight to watch. When it was over, the glass turned clear, and we sat in silence for ten minutes.

"I know what the distraction is now," Veronica said, breaking the silence. "Chair Trials. Since everyone is forced to watch it, the people watching what's recorded by the security cameras should be paying less attention. We also need a disguise."

"I can get you guys guard uniforms from laundry services," I said.

"Good thinking," Veronica said. "Dressing up as guards and doing a perimeter sweep of the packaging area would clear the area of any witnesses. Once we lead the workers back to the glass house, we can pick up our stuff, put it in the truck behind the boxes, and hide out there until the truck drives away."

"Everyone in the truck needs to get rid of their medical button," Laura said. "It's got a GPS in it. How do we get rid of the driver's medical button?"

"The driver should be one of us," I said. "I can get a driver's uniform as well."

"That's going to be more difficult," Vincent said. "Drivers have to get a key from my supervisor before they drive the trucks. If we're stealing a truck driver's identity, we have to choose someone who looks similar to one of us. I'll scope out the truck drivers tomorrow and see if there are any possible matches. If I get a match, then I will tell Johnny to steal that person's uniform a day or so before we leave."

"What about the truck driver?" Laura asked. "He's still going to show up for work. How do we get one of us in the driver's seat instead of him?"

"Well, that's easy for you, Laura; you're a pretty lady, and all the truck drivers are men," Vincent said.

"Excuse me," Laura said. "Are you trying to suggest that I seduce him?"

"However you want to do it is up to you," he responded. "All we need is his scan key and for him to be out of the picture for like a day. Knock him out, tie him to a tree, bury the body, whatever. Just keep him out of the way."

"I don't do that anymore," Laura replied, "Things have changed."

"You don't have to seduce anybody," Veronica said. "Just lead him on, get him to follow you into the forest, then knock him out, and tie him to a tree. Nothing sexual involved. Once he's knocked out, steal his key and bring it back."

"OK, I guess I can do that," Laura hesitantly agreed.

"When Chair Trials ends, our truck driver impersonator will drive us away when the rest of the trucks are ready to leave," Veronica said.

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

Chapter 10: Vincent

From the moment I met ComCon, I realized that there was no one in my life that could be more perfect. ComCon had abstract beauty, intelligence, and availability. She found pleasure in pursuing my requests, her words were unbiased, and she was reliable. At bedtime, I discovered exactly how deeply a man and a fem-bot could connect. I tried to push her to her limits, but she didn't have any. She could do everything I imagined.

"ComCon, wake me up at seven o'clock in the morning every day," I said, lying down nestled in my sleeping bag next to her large-pane display glass.

"Vincent, I will certainly do that for you," ComCon said.

"What would you do to wake me up?"

"For you, I will play smooth jazz."

"Wow, she doesn't waste any time," I said, looking at Laura.

"Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" Laura asked. "She's a robot; what exactly do you think she can do to you?"

"Nothing physically, but she stimulates me intellectually, which is more powerful than anything physical," I replied. "She has no flaws or human errors, which is incredibly sexy."

"Look, I don't really care; just stop playing with it because it's driving me insane," Laura complained. "I'm trying to sleep here, and I'm not going to fall asleep listening to you get freaky with that robotic voice."

"I think her voice is lovely."

"Yeah, try a real woman," she muttered as she turned around in her sleeping bag.

"Like you?"

"What? No!" Laura said, bolting up into sitting position.

"That's what I thought," I replied. "A woman like you would never go out with a guy like me, and frankly, I'm not interested. Finding a real woman that possesses similar qualities to ComCon is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There are a lot of you out there, Laura, but there's not a lot of her."

"Why do you keep bashing me?" Laura said, surprised. "We barely even know each other."

"I'm not saying that to try to hurt you. I'm just making a realistic comparison."

"Comparing me or any real woman to a robot is not very realistic," Laura argued. "And I don't like the way you just assumed that I'd seduce the truck driver. You don't know me, so you shouldn't be saying these things about me! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Actually, I know you very well. I've watched you for many years. I know that you're not upset with me; you're upset about something that happened yesterday. Whatever happened, I can tell that it made you seriously rethink your career in prostitution—"

Laura zipped down her sleeping bag, slid toward me, and started kicking me aggressively. She kicked hard for a girl, but I still managed to stop her by grabbing her ankles and pulling her toward me. I held her legs together by her knees, thinking that she'd stop, but instead, she started slapping me.

"Laura, stop," I said, grabbing her wrist. She started crying, so I released her, but she didn't retreat back to her sleeping bag. I wrapped her up in my arms, giving her a hug as she cried on my chest. "What happened yesterday?"

Johnny knocked on the glass between our rooms and mouthed something that I couldn't hear. I looked confused, so he sent me a message through ComCon that asked me if everything was all right. I used ComCon's voice recognition to send a reply message.

"Trying to figure out what's wrong," I said.

ComCon repeated the message back to me before she sent it.

"Don't tell them," Laura said out of the blue. "I probably shouldn't even tell you."

"Eventually I'll find out, Laura," I said. "It's very difficult to hide things from me. Like, I noticed your laundry bags have a biohazard sign on them, and you offered to collect items from the medical wing, but you don't work there. This tells me that you're familiar with the medical wing because you've been there before. You also said that you didn't bring in any weight the other day because Amy beat you up. This is what caused you to go to the medical wing in the first place, which is where you got the biohazard bags. You probably got the biohazard bag because they want to separate your uniform from everyone else's when it gets washed. The only reason to do that is to prevent fluid transmission in the washers. But instead of giving you just one biohazard bag, they gave you several, which indicates that the medical wing thought the uniform could get contaminated multiple times. What fluid would stain your uniform multiple times...ah, I know...blood. Your menstrual cycle would stain your uniform monthly. After you got beat up by Amy, the fluid that was on your uniform was blood. For some reason, your blood concerns the doctors," I explained.

"No, it's just procedural to give a biohazard bag to anyone who gets blood on their uniform," Laura said, looking afraid. "There's nothing...wrong with my blood."

"Yes, there is, and you just confirmed it with your facial expression," I said. "You paused when you said there was nothing wrong, which means you're lying to me. Also, if Walnut Cherryville was concerned about workers washing bloody uniforms with regular ones, then they would have given us all biohazard bags and told us to separate them. I could also ask Johnny, since he works in laundry services...You know with ComCon, I could send him a message right now." I reached out to the glass pane and was about to touch it, when Laura pulled my arm back.

"No, please don't do that," she requested.

"You know what I think," I said. "I think you have a sexually transmitted disease, and you just found out about it yesterday."

"You're wrong."

"I can't be wrong. I watched you seduce men for years. You never used protection unless the man asked you to, and you rarely saw a doctor when you lived with your parents. Also, those yearly checkups the correctional school requires don't do blood tests, so naturally you wouldn't have found out about the disease until you got here."

"That's disgusting," Laura commented as she pulled away and wiped her tears. "How do you know all this? What do you mean, you watched me?"

"We were neighbors on Hillsdale Court."

"OK," Laura said while taking a pause. "How come I don't remember you?"

"I wasn't one of your customers."

"Were you stalking me?"

I had to take a moment to think about the answer I should give Laura. Given our current situation, telling her the truth might jeopardize our escape plan. She was already upset about having an STD, so finding out that I saw everything she'd done that was supposed to be private could make her furious.

"No, I just heard what you do from the other neighbors and people at school," I replied. "And sometimes you didn't close the blinds."

Laura sat silently for several minutes with her hands covering her face.

"Do you not want to see me right now?" I asked.

She chuckled from behind her hands. "You are a little disturbing," she said, revealing her face again. "All this stuff is a lot to process."

"Don't think about it anymore," I said to keep her calm. "Go to sleep; we both have a big job to do tomorrow."

After a short night's rest, I reported to the packaging station at nine in the morning. Mornings were slow because the gatherers usually didn't start bringing in any fruit until an hour before lunch. Since I had to wait so long to do my own job, my supervisor gave me a short list of things I could do to help out the packers and truck drivers. My first task was to hand out a six-pack of water bottles to each truck driver before they left. This was a good opportunity to evaluate the truck drivers to see if I could find a match. The line of trucks was so long that I lost count after thirty. Truck one driver: Bobby. Color: white. Height: 5′8″. Hair color: brown. Eye color: brown. Build: a little overweight. Defining features: receding hairline. Match: No. Truck two driver: Sam. Color: white. Height: 6′0″. Hair color: gray plugs? Eye color: blue. Build: average. Defining features: wide honker. Match: no...I evaluated twenty-five truck drivers before I found a fairly good match. Truck twenty-six driver: Darnell. Color: black. Height: 6′0″. Hair color: black. Eye color: undetermined due to sunglasses. Build: athletic. Defining features: young-looking skin. Match: Collins. I kindly gave Darnell his water, he thanked me, and I moved on.

I evaluated everyone on the line, but no one came as close as Darnell and Collins. This was unfortunate, because I didn't know if Collins could handle this much responsibility without getting caught. Collins's face was recognizable to people now because he was on Chair Trials, although Darnell wore sunglasses like prescription glasses. Without seeing Collins's eyes, maybe people wouldn't be able to recognize him. I sat at the bench and weighed fruit occasionally as I watched Darnell talk to the truck driver next to him. He never took his sunglasses off. I wondered why. Were his eyes sensitive to sunlight? Did he have a visible deformity under those sunglasses? He could be wearing them because it was sunny out, but I noticed that most people who worked outside didn't wear sunglasses. Hmm...interesting.

If I let Collins do this, my biggest concern was that he wouldn't act normal, which would attract a lot of attention and possibly cause Collins to be put on Chair Trials again. Darnell talked slow; he was cool, calm, collected, and relaxed. When I spoke to him, I got this vibe that he was content with his job. He smiled a lot. Collins was the complete opposite. He was always freaking out about something. He worried a lot. He was really competitive when he played basketball. The only time Collins resembled the qualities of Darnell was when Collins tried to pick up girls from the other side of the fence. When Collins sat at the tables with us for lunch, he was his normal self, but when he stood over by the fence, he was a total player. Collins could be quite erratic, so I guessed I would just have to see what everyone else thought about him playing such an important role in our escape plan. I would have preferred Johnny to be the truck driver because he had a better ability to stay calm during serious situations. I also would have offered to be the truck driver, but I couldn't because I worked in packaging services, so my supervisor would recognize that I wasn't a truck driver.

"Excuse me," a voice said, while someone knocked on the wood table.

I snapped out of my thoughts and saw Amy Chang with a full basket of mangos in front of her feet.

"Sorry about that," I said. "You're Amy Chang, right?" I knew it was her, but I just had to confirm it.

"Yes," she replied.

"All right, let's hop that basket onto the scale," I said as we both bent down to reach for the basket, but she grabbed it first. "Do you need any help with that? It looks heavy."

She laughed, picked up the basket, and placed it on the scale effortlessly.

"I guess not," I said. "Today you brought in sixty pounds." I recorded her weight on my clipboard before I attempted to move the basket. I grabbed the basket by the handle on both sides and struggled to lift it off the scale. I must have made a silly grunt or something because she started giggling again. "What?"

"Do you need help with that?" Amy asked.

"No, I got it," I said. Since I couldn't lift the basket off the scale, I pushed it, but she stopped me before the basket fell off.

"Don't do that; you'll break the scale," she said as she quickly picked up the basket and set it down at the other end of the table for inspection. On her way back, she said, "You have to lift the basket because if you let the mangos fall on the table, you'll bruise the fruit, and it won't pass inspection."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll be sure to lift next time."

"Do some push-ups; you're weak like a little girl," she said before she turned and skipped away.

Well, no one told me this job required heavy lifting. Amy was quite rude; no wonder Laura didn't like her. She didn't have any blood on her uniform today, so whoever she stole those mangos from didn't put up much of a fight. A few minutes later, Laura approached me with her first basket of mangos. She set it on the scale.

"Only fifteen pounds? That's half the amount people usually bring in," I said. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Laura replied. "I just decided to bring them over here before somebody steals them...you know who...So what did she bring in today?"

I looked around to make sure no one was standing close enough to hear our conversation. "Sixty pounds. My sheet says the minimum amount of weight you should be bringing in per day is thirty pounds."

"Well, I'm not going to get that today because after lunch I'm going to raid the medical wing," she responded.

"You have to get thirty pounds, or your supervisor will give you a bad review, and you won't get any shower coins. I want a shower tonight, so you're not getting my coin this time."

"Can't you help me out a little? Make up a number for me, or switch Amy's with mine to teach her a lesson. You owe me, pervert."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Fine, I'll do it because you won't stop being a nag."

"Well, it's better than a perv."

"Get out of here before I change my mind."

"I won't leave until I see you do it."

I erased Amy's sixty and wrote fifteen and erased Laura's fifteen and wrote sixty. I casually set the clipboard on the table where Laura could see that I made the changes.

"Good and you better keep it that way," Laura said. "If I don't get a shower coin tonight, I'll know you changed it." Laura walked away.

I should never have told Laura even an ounce of truth about what I saw her do in the past. Now she thought I was a pervert and expected me to make it up to her. Sometimes I forgot that people overreact when they find out someone's watching them.

A few years ago, I used to be really interested in this girl named Kat, who went to my high school and lived on Hillsdale Court. She was about 5′8″ and looked like she weighed only 130 lbs. Every day she'd come to school dressed in all-black clothing: fishnet stockings, knee-high boots, tiny skirts, and leather jackets. She even had long, flowing black hair with a curved barbell pierced through the bridge of her nose and a second through the middle of her lower lip. Didn't seem to matter what the weather was like: she wore the same thing whether it was sunny or wet outside. Most of the time, I didn't fall for human girls, but Kat was nearly perfect for me. She was an outcast punk like me, and we hung out together in the same wolf pack, smoking cigarettes by the coffee shop after school. Something about her made me OK with missing the footage from the cameras I planted around the neighborhood.

As I paid more attention to her, the gaps in my other characters' stories grew, and at one point, she became the only one I was watching. I was obsessed; every night that I wasn't with her, I was watching her through the cameras I planted throughout her house. There was at least one camera in every room, with the exception of her bedroom and the bathroom, which had two. My favorite one was the nanny cam hidden in the shower. Without that one, I would have never discovered the red dragon tattoo on her back. I always knew what she ate every day, when she took her smoke breaks, and even personal things like the time of the month she menstruated. I always knew the right things to say to her, and she never knew why. I could feel she was interested in me, too, but the only problem was that she already had a boyfriend.

One night, on the second night of her period, she was arguing with her boyfriend on the phone, and I heard them break up. I thought that was my chance to swoop in and impress her, so I texted her a few minutes later.

Me: Are u coming 2 see Don's band play 2NTE

Kat: No SRY dont feel like it

Me: What's wrong?

Kat: Mehh...BF <3

Me: OMG SRY ): Y?

Kat: He cheated. Need 2 vent...L2K over?

Me: BRT

I had never been so excited to hear a girl complain about her ex-boyfriend until then. Kat was emotional and vulnerable, which meant I might get lucky that night, so I had better be prepared. I left the computer with the camera feeds running to go take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and put on a pair of fresh clothes. When I was almost ready, I checked the camera feeds and saw that Kat was still reclining on her bed and crying into her pillow in between texting her friends. I combed my damp hair back, drew on some black eyeliner, and slipped a condom in my pocket before I walked over to her house.

Me: I'm here

Kat: Door is open in my room

I entered her house and closed the door behind me. It was nice to be invited into her house without the rest of the wolf pack. I had never gotten the chance to spend time alone with her, and I really wanted to for a long time. I knocked on her bedroom door, and she greeted me with a big sobbing hug.

"Aww...it's OK, don't cry," I said, holding her close. I got a waft of her perfume...She smelled so tempting. "You're too good for him."

"I can't believe he cheated on me."

I led her to the bed, and we sat down, far apart from each other.

"He's such an asshole to accuse me of cheating first, and I did no such thing. I loved him...How could he do this to me? Did you know anything about this?"

"You know me and Drake were never really that close."

"Yeah, that's true. For some reason he didn't like you."

"I didn't know anything about him cheating...I'm really surprised that he'd need anything more than you." I scooted closer to shorten the distance between us, pulled a tissue out of the box, and dried her eyes.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," I responded, hoping that she'd ask me to hook up with her.

"Why do men cheat?"

OK, maybe she wasn't ready yet...I could wait. "I don't know, honestly...I've never cheated on anyone before."

"Vincent, you're such a good friend for listening to me sob like this while everyone else is out watching the band play. I'm sorry I made you miss it...I feel bad."

Oh no! The friend zone...once I was put in the friend zone, she would never want to hook up with me. Somehow I had to show her my intentions without being too forward. I moved right next to her and gave her a hug. "I'll always be here for you whenever you need me," I whispered into her ear. "Don't feel sorry; I'd rather be here with you."

"He never visited me in rehab because he was with her! This whole time...ooooo...I could just run over him with my car, put that shit in reverse, and run over him again!"

"Don't worry; he'll get what's coming to him."

"He just makes me so angry—"

I went in for the kiss, and she looked shocked when our lips met. It seemed awkward, so I backed away, embarrassed. Bad timing was the worst...Why did I do that? She gave me the deer in the headlights face...That couldn't be good. "I'm sorry. I better go," I said, getting up. As I started to walk away, she grabbed my hand.

"Wait. Don't go."

I turned to face her and silence became the loudest sound in the room as we gazed into each other's eyes. My heart pounded, and my palms became sweaty from the realization that she could be my first. I hope she didn't notice my inexperience...Maybe I should have done a few practice rounds before attempting to pleasure her. Stop talking to yourself! She likes you; just be in the moment. "Are you sure you're OK with this?" I asked.

She reclined on the bed, pulling me toward her, and I fell onto her body where I returned to first base. "I'm OK with it for now," she responded as she wrapped her legs around me.

What did that mean: she was 'OK with it for now?' If I did her now, was she planning on being upset about it later? Who cared why she suddenly wanted me now, all that mattered was that she wanted me, so I wasn't going to ruin this night by over-analyzing her motives. I kissed her passionately as I reached my hand under her blouse and squeezed her breast. Second base...Now let's try to make this a home run. I knew Kat was an experienced girl because I used to watch her fuck Drake, who was her first. I wasn't sure how I would impress Kat, so I stole some of Drake's moves to keep her excited. This was hands down the best night of my life, but unfortunately, Kat didn't feel the same.

Kat: Last nte was a mistake...I was  about BF <3 so hope you dnt get the wrong idea. IDK what I was thinking. Want 2 stay BFFs w/ u. SRY

Me:  IDTS

Kat: dont want things 2 b awkward between us

Me: IYQ...a lot 4 LT. U were dating Drake so I nvr asked you out...wish I did. IU if u dont <333 me right now, but I eventually want 2 b more than just BFFs.

Kat: Maybe...

Two months later, Kat and I were an official couple, but sadly the relationship only lasted two weeks. It ended when she saw the camera feed of her house on my computer. I would never let anyone in my room unsupervised, especially Kat. She came over one day by surprise, and my mom told her to wait in my room. I was in the shower. When I got out, I saw Kat was about to destroy my computer with a cup of coffee. The only way to save my computer before it drowned in hazelnut coffee and to save my secret as the unofficial neighborhood watchman was to make a deal with her. She made me take down all the cameras in her house, so I couldn't watch her anymore, but I would still owe her another favor.

Chapter 11: Laura

Instead of eating lunch with the boys in the cafeteria, I decided to eat lunch outside. I was hoping to get a little privacy, which was a scarce commodity in Walnut Cherryville. Everywhere I turned, there was always an ugly, orange jumpsuit in sight. Today for lunch, the cafeteria served turkey sandwiches with chips and an apple. After I served myself, I left the glass building to find a remote place to eat lunch. Nowhere was really that remote, so I settled for a spot next to the glass building with a nice view of the village. It was interesting how a village so diverse with unique architecture made their citizens wear such ugly clothing. Bright orange was the color of criminals and construction sites. No one in their right mind would wear that color. I associated the jumpsuits with criminals, farmers, and factory workers. Maybe the Walnut Cherryville executives enforced everyone to wear jumpsuits because farmers and factory workers were exactly who we were in this place. There was nothing drearier than Walnut Cherryville's lack of fashion and self-expression. Even the Walnut Cherryville logo was bland. Because everyone wore the same uniform, with the exception of guards and doctors, the citizens here lost their identities and became just another number.

I reached into my breast pocket and took out a pen and paper (the paper I used to write the list of items I needed to steal from the medical wing). On the blank side, I started to sketch a woman who wore leggings under a pleated miniskirt and a vest over a close-fitting, long-sleeve undershirt. Since I didn't have any coloring materials with me, I imagined that the vest and the skirt would be in colors that contrasted with the undershirt and leggings. The undershirt and leggings would be available in light colors, like pastel versions of pink, lavender, blue, yellow, and green to reflect the sun and keep the woman cool while she worked. The vest and pleated miniskirt might come in earthy colors like cloud white, ocean blue, forest green, or tree-bark brown. In a village where everyone had to wear a uniform, they should be able to mix and match these colors and be as crazy as they want. Vests with patterns on them would also be trendy as well. The outfit was appealing because it showcased the woman without revealing skin, which was a great idea for a fashionable version of the Walnut Cherryville uniform. They could even embroider a Walnut Cherryville logo and all that other information they put on the uniforms on the breast pocket of the vest.

"May I join you?" Johnny said.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked.

"I always eat outside for lunch," Johnny replied. "You're sitting in my usual spot."

"I'm sorry; do you want me to move?"

"No, it's OK," Johnny said as he sat down next to me. "The air is just as fresh no matter where you sit out here. After being cooped up in a laundry room all day, I could really use the fresh air. You're lucky you get to work outside."

I chuckled.

"What's that?" Johnny said while looking over my shoulder.

"Oh, it's just a drawing," I said before I folded it up and placed the paper back into my breast pocket.

"It looks nice."

"Thank you."

"So I hear Vincent found a match."

"Really, who?"

"Darnell and Collins."

I laughed. "This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? Are you serious? Collins couldn't keep himself out of trouble for two days; he'll blow our cover."

"Well, you've got to believe in him; he's our only choice," Johnny said. "I've known Collins for a long time, and he's not a royal screw up all the time. I think he's just stressed, so if we can get him to calm down, I think he can do it."

"Stressed...we're all stressed. We'll be even more stressed if our plan doesn't work."

"We'll be dead if our plan doesn't work. Death by someone who plays with his food before he kills it in the electric chair."

Workers started pouring out of the glass building.

"Must be time to go back to work," I said as I got up.

"I can take your tray and trash back inside for you, since it's on my way back to work," Johnny offered.

"OK, thanks, catch you later."

I walked back into the forest and searched for a secluded spot where I couldn't see anybody watching. When the coast was clear, I rolled up my sleeve and rubbed my arm against the tree until it started bleeding. Since I couldn't remember exactly where the medical wing was located, I pushed the red button. Within several minutes, the white coats found me in the forest and escorted me out. The medical wing was located on the first floor of the glass building. How stupid was I not to notice it before? The white coats took me to a small examination room that had white walls and mostly white furniture.

"Wait in here," a woman said. "The doctor will be in shortly." She closed the door.

While I was waiting, I searched the countertops and cabinets. I needed tweezers, mosquito repellent, sanitation wipes, a first-aid kit, or at least Band-Aids, antiseptic cream, adhesive tape, and some elastic bandage. I found individually wrapped sanitation wipes in a jar on the countertop, so I grabbed a handful of those and stuffed them into my bra. I didn't have time to look much further because I heard footsteps in the hallway, nearing my room. I quickly closed up my uniform and sat on the patient's bed before the doctor entered.

"Laura, you're back," the doctor said. "What brings you in today?" He set his clipboard down on the counter and put on latex gloves.

"I got scratched pretty badly by a tree. I think I might have gotten a splinter or two."

He held my arm and examined the scratches. "I can't see any splinters, but let me get my magnifying glass and some tweezers. I'll be right back."

He left the room for a brief moment, about two minutes, which wasn't enough time for me to continue raiding the room. When he came back, he looked at my arm under the magnifying glass and took out two splinters. I washed the scratches with cold water before he cleaned it with a sanitation wipe. That stung pretty bad...ouch.

"I don't have a Band-Aid this big, so I'm just going to wrap it up with some elastic bandage after I apply the antiseptic cream," the doctor said.

Finding these items couldn't be easier, so hopefully it was as easy to steal them as it was to find them. After the doctor applied the antiseptic cream, wrapped my arm in elastic bandage, and taped it secure, he put all the items on the counter. Dammit...I still needed mosquito repellent.

"OK, you're all set, Laura," the doctor said. "Be careful when you go back to work."

"I have a question," I said right as the doctor was about to leave. "Since I have HIV, shouldn't I have something to protect me against mosquito bites? If a mosquito bites me and then bites someone else, wouldn't they contract my disease?"

"No, that can't happen because when an insect bites a person, it does not inject its own, or a previously bitten person's blood, into the next person bitten. It actually injects saliva that acts as a lubricant, so the insect can feed efficiently," the doctor replied.

"What if someone smashed a mosquito that has bitten me, and the blood got on their skin?"

"HIV lives for only a short time inside an insect, and, unlike diseases that are transmitted through insect bites, HIV does not reproduce, so it does not survive in insects. If you are worried about mosquito bites, I suggest you keep your sleeves down. Your uniform will protect you against bug bites if you wear it correctly. Do you have any further questions?"

"No," I said, feeling defeated. Stupid doctor, just give me some bug spray!

"OK, then I'll show you the way out."

"Could I spend a few minutes in here?" I asked. "It's so hot outside, and I feel weak from heat exhaustion."

"You can stay in here for five minutes," the doctor said. "I will send someone in to get you when the time is up. Sorry to rush you, but this room needs to be sterilized before someone else uses it. We only have five examination rooms, and sometimes that's not enough."

"I understand," I said. "Thanks for your help."

When the doctor left the room, I gathered up the remaining supplies and hid them in my panties, except for the tweezers, which went into my bra with the wipes. I failed at getting the bug repellent, but at least I got everything else.

After my five minutes were up, a white coat escorted me out of the medical wing. I walked like a penguin, trying not to make any sudden movements that would knock the supplies in my panties out of place. When I got to my room, I grabbed a biohazard bag and went to the restroom. Everything I collected got put in a doubled biohazard bag, so the cameras couldn't see what it was. Before returning to work, I nestled the medical supplies inside my sleeping bag. One job down, one to go. Pretending to seduce a truck driver was not a job I was looking forward to. This would be the last time I did anything like that. When I escaped from Walnut Cherryville, I was going to change my life and never seduce anybody for anything ever again. I was going to find something I was good at and learn how to support myself without a man. I hoped that one day my family could forgive me for what I had done.

* * *

After a year of attending Sonoran Correctional, I wanted to go back home. Despite how angry my parents were at me, I still missed seeing everyone, the privacy of my own room, eating my dad's pizza, and shopping with my mom. The school had a strict policy that didn't allow students to leave the school without an adult supervisor. Students always had the option to visit with their families on weekends as long as the student's guardian notified the school, picked them up, and dropped them back at school no later than nine o'clock at night on Sunday.

I tried to keep in contact with my parents, but it was difficult. Every month I wrote them a letter telling them about my classes and asking them when I could come home to visit, but they never wrote back. I would have called, but students were allowed only one ten-minute phone call per month, unless it was an emergency. The line at the telephone booth was always really long. During holidays, the school closed for two full days, so all the students had to leave and go home. When Thanksgiving came, I had nowhere to go. My parents didn't even bother to come pick me up until a school administrator forced them to take me home.

"How come you guys didn't respond to any of the letters I wrote you every month?" I asked my parents as they drove me home.

"I'm sorry, Laura, I was just really busy with the restaurant," Dad responded. "I've been working double shifts, trying to keep up with the demand."

"I was at the spa," Mom added.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and my parents had invited thirty relatives and family friends over for dinner. I spent most of the day cleaning the house while Dad cooked and Mom set up the dining areas. The doorbell rang, and the first guest had arrived. I rushed over to get the door, but Mom stopped me.

"Laura, you look a mess, why don't you stay in your room until everybody has left," she said.

"Why do I have to stay upstairs when everyone is going to be down here celebrating?"

"It really would be too shocking for the family to see you here tonight, since no one was expecting you'd be home for Thanksgiving."

I wanted to give my family and friends a shocking lovely surprise welcome, but Mom wanted me out of the picture. "Oh," I sighed as I slowly climbed the steps.

"Laura, try to keep your legs closed tonight. If you're a good girl, we'll send you up a plate of food later."

I went upstairs, locked myself in my room, and watched the guests park their cars from my bedroom window. I occasionally listened to the chitter chatter of my family downstairs, and it was as if I never existed. No one mentioned a word about me, wondered where I was, or asked when I'd come home. To try to forget about this dreadful holiday, I distracted myself by watching Titanic on my computer. When the movie finished, I went to the bathroom where I noticed a familiar envelope in the trash. It was the letter I wrote to my parents a week before Thanksgiving, thrown away in the trash, never even opened! I was so sad and angry, and I realized that all they wanted was for me, their whorish daughter, to be out of their lives. I disgraced the family, but no parent should shun their child like this when she did something wrong. I grabbed the letter out of the trash and marched downstairs.

The guests were certainly surprised to see me. Whispers filled the room, and I could feel everyone talking about me.

"I can't believe you'd throw my letters away without even reading them!" I cried.

My mom tried to keep her composure and whispered to me, "This behavior is inappropriate."

I pushed her aside, threw the letter on the floor, and stormed out the front door. There was an unopened box of tissues waiting for me on the porch with a yellow sticky note attached that read "Laura, don't cry about the things you've done wrong, only the things you've done right. Happy Thanksgiving." I had no idea who this was from. What a bizarre statement. Who would say something like that? I walked out onto the barren street of Hillsdale Court and looked for life, but no one was there. While everyone was inside their homes with their families, being thankful for what they had, I sat on the curbside alone, with a box of tissues, analyzing a note from a stranger.

* * *

When work was over, my supervisor finally gave me a shower coin. My excitement surprised my supervisor, who said I acted like I just found a pot of gold. I ran as fast as I could to the glass building, nearly ripping my uniform off on the way. My top was open, flashing my dirty bra to everyone I passed, including Kenneth.

"Stop right there," Kenneth said. "You can't walk around like that! Close your uniform up."

"No!" I said, jumping in front of Kenneth. "I just earned a shower coin!" I held it up enthusiastically and shimmied around Kenneth, who stood like a stiff brick wall. "I earned it, I earned it! I finally earned a shower coin," I sang.

"Congratulations," Kenneth said before he grabbed me by my uniform and buttoned it up. His emerald green eyes peered into mine for a silent moment. "Please keep this on until you reach the restroom, OK?"

We parted when I walked onto the elevator. Once the elevator doors started to close, I noticed Kenneth was still watching, so I opened my top and rubbed my grimy bra against the elevator door. "You're no fun!" I shouted.

He started marching toward the elevator.

I thought it was time to go. I pressed my floor, and the elevator took off before he could get to me. The shower coin must have brought out a playful side of me that I hadn't seen for a long time. When I got to my room, ComCon told me that I had a message from Kenneth.

"Your friend, Collins, will be cleaning that tonight, and he has you to thank for it...P.S., I am a lot of fun [wink face]," ComCon read.

I didn't know he heard me say that. I couldn't imagine what Kenneth considered fun. I'd really like to see Kenneth make Collins clean up my boob dirt. Collins owed us anyway since he got into so much trouble and didn't show up for the escape meeting. Why did we have to pull Collins's weight? Couldn't we just leave him here? No, because Johnny wouldn't allow it, since they're best friends.

I grabbed a clean uniform before I went to the restroom. The shower room was located past the toilets, and like everything else, it wasn't very private. By the time I got there, ten women were already showering in a giant room that had multiple showerheads protruding from the walls. The hard gray floor was slippery and scattered with drains, so I walked slowly until I found the showerhead that was furthest away from the other girls. Under each showerhead, there was a squishy, bone-colored mat on the floor and a locker built into the wall. I took off my clothes, put them in the locker, and inserted the shower coin into the metal slit in the wall. The water turned on automatically, and the soap dispensers connected to the wall unlocked. Ah...yes, finally a shower...I've needed one for three days. I pumped a handful of shampoo into my hand, lathered it up, and massaged it into every part of my scalp. My eyes closed as I became more relaxed. After I rinsed the shampoo out, I opened my eyes and saw Amy Chang standing in front of me; she didn't look too happy.

"What do you think you're doing?" Amy asked sternly.

"I'm taking a shower," I said as I stepped out of the rain to soap my body.

"I brought in sixty pounds today, and my supervisor said I only brought in fifteen," Amy complained. "Why is that?"

"You stole my mangos, so I stole your shower," I said. "Simple as that."

"That's not possible!"

"It is when the weight recorder is my roommate."

"Oh I see, he did that for you because you're sleeping with him. Two can play at that game!"

"You think I'm sleeping with him?" I laughed. "Eww, no, we're just acquaintances."

"You're right; he's too scrawny to be worth sleeping with," Amy replied.

"How about this, you stop stealing from me, and I won't steal from you," I suggested. "Do we have a deal?"

"No," Amy said as she got naked.

"What are you doing?"

"I earned this shower, and you're wasting a lot of water."

"What? I was just about to wash off!"

"Too bad!"

I shoved her out from under the showerhead, and she took a step back. I started to rinse the soap off my body.

"Did you just push me?"

"Maybe?"

She pushed me back. "Ready for round two?"

"Bring it," I said, pumping a handful of body soap into my hand.

She threw a punch at me; I caught her fist and smeared soap in her eyes. She rushed to the water, and I let her have it. As she rinsed her eyes out, I pushed her against the wall where she hit her head and slipped on the floor. I stood back for a few minutes, letting the water run over her body. It eventually turned off, and I still had soap on me.

"I don't want to fight you anymore," I said. "Why won't you agree to stop stealing from me?" I walked over to the towel pile at the entrance of the shower room and grabbed two towels. I threw one over her body and wrapped the other around me.

She sat up and covered herself with the towel. "You don't understand," she began. "If I don't steal from you, someone else will."

"Why?"

"There isn't enough fruit for everyone to bring in thirty pounds a day. The forest is overpicked. I just steal from people who aren't paying attention, but no one I ever stole from put up as much of a fight as you did."

"If you didn't beat me up that day, I would have never found out I have HIV."

Amy went silent. I left the shower room and continued to rinse off in the sink. I soaked my towel in water and wiped the soap off. A few minutes later, I saw her reflection standing a few feet behind me in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That must have been really painful to hear."

"Life-changing," I replied. "Also, you might want to see a doctor and make sure you're not contaminated."

"OK, fine, you win; I won't steal from you anymore."

"Thank you," I said as I walked by her to grab a dry towel. I dried myself off and put my clean uniform on before I left the bathroom. Once the door was closed, I popped back in for a minute. "Amy, the shower is much more rewarding when you don't steal it. Good night."

Chapter 12: Johnny

"Jonathan, you have a new urgent message," ComCon said.

My eyes opened as I stretched out my arms and legs across Collins. It wasn't time to wake up yet; it was only seven thirty. I went back to sleep.

"Jonathan, you have a new urgent message," ComCon said, increasing her volume.

"Johnny, make it stop," Collins mumbled in his sleep.

I sat up and read the message from my supervisor. It said that everyone who worked in laundry services would have to report to the laundry room at eight o'clock in the morning for a mandatory meeting. Breakfast would be provided. Thanks for the notice...She couldn't have told us this yesterday? I changed into my uniform and washed my face in the bathroom sink in an attempt to wake up. I needed coffee; water doesn't have any caffeine in it.

While I was heading over to laundry services, everyone else who was an early bird was going to the cafeteria for breakfast. I didn't want to eat in the laundry room; it would make all my food taste like body odor. When I got to the laundry room, there was no one around. They must all have been inside, so I tried to enter the room, but the door was locked. I thought I was early, so I sat down beside the door and waited.

Five minutes later, the door cracked open. When I pushed it open a little more, no one was in the laundry room, not even Mama. I walked in and felt something soft crush under my feet. It was a red rose. What the hell was that doing in a laundry room? It wasn't the only one...There were more. The roses formed a trail that led to the sliding glass doors in the back of the laundry room. Do I dare follow this trail? I looked ahead and noticed the glass door was agape. There was a patio chair outside with a rose resting on the seat cushion. Was it too late to turn back? I started to backtrack when Mama called out my name.

"Johnny, where do you think you're going?" Mama said.

Shit!

"Come outside," she continued. "Mama got you breakfast."

I sighed before I turned and followed the trail of roses. When I reached the rose on my seat, I flicked it off onto the concrete floor and sat down. The table was covered with a white silk tablecloth and set fancily for two with a vase of roses and actual china. A platter of food sat in the middle of the table beneath a silver lid. Mama, who stood behind me, grabbed my hand and cuffed my wrist to the chair with pink furry handcuffs. She poured me a cup of coffee before she sat down and poured herself a cup.

"You stood me up," Mama said.

"I told you I was sick," I explained. "I threw up five times that night."

"Mama is always here to comfort you if you let her."

She lifted the silver lid and served me eggs benedict with a side of mixed fruit.

"You broke my heart, Johnny."

"I'm sorry," I said with my mouth full, hardly paying attention to Mama. That was the only way I could eat with her sitting across from me. I stared down at my food and never looked up.

"I'm just a woman who wants to be appreciated, respected, and loved. Do you love me, Johnny?"

I wanted to say no, but then I remembered the guy on Chair Trials who refused to marry Mama. He didn't get picked to die, but that didn't ensure that I wouldn't get picked. Besides, being sent to Chair Trials would put a damper on our escape plan. I couldn't waste any time.

"Sure," I said uncomfortably.

She reached across the table, placed her hand over mine, and said, "Look into my eyes and tell me you love me."

I dropped my fork, gulped, and looked at Mama.

"Go in deeper, Johnny, feel the intensity."

I closed my eyes for a second and envisioned that I was looking at someone else. When I opened my eyes, I gazed deeply into hers.

"I love you," I said and then took a sip of coffee.

Mama jumped out of her chair, excited. "Great, let's get married!"

I choked on my coffee and spit it out in surprise. "What? Don't you think this is a little soon?"

"Relax, couples can stay engaged for as long as they want before they get married," she said, grabbing my hand. I tried to pull away, but she had a strong grip. She slid a copper-wire ring onto my finger. "Oh, look at the time, it's about nine." She unlocked my cuffs. "Don't be late for work." Mama leaned in for a kiss, but I dodged it, so she patted my head before she went back inside.

My brain could hardly process what just happened. I told Mama that I loved her while I envisioned that she was...Veronica? This had been a crazy morning; I was sure it was just the tiredness talking. It probably didn't mean anything. As soon as I went back inside the laundry room, Mama got everyone's attention.

"There he is," Mama said. "My special man. Johnny and I are getting married!"

The workers cheered and applauded while I was a deer in headlights.

"All right, everybody, back to work," Mama demanded.

At the end of the day, I delivered Darnell's extra uniform to Collins and some extra guard uniforms to Veronica, Vincent, Laura, and me. As usual, I folded the uniforms, put them in plastic bags, and left them by their doors...Nothing strange going on here.

Since my shift was over, I returned the laundry cart to the laundry room and met up with my friends in the cafeteria. Tonight's dinner was roast chicken with mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn bread. When Collins sat down at the table, we were all in shock and awe. His plate was piled high with hot food, and he even managed to fit a bowl of creamy tomato soup and a garden salad on his tray.

"What are you all staring at? Can't you just let a hungry man eat in peace? Come on people, I'm on a diet!" Collins said.

Laura laughed. "It sure doesn't look that way."

"He's on the see-food diet," I said. My joke got some chuckles.

"Actually, Veronica started portioning out my breakfast and lunch, so I don't fall asleep anymore," Collins explained. "Dinner is the only meal I get to pick for myself."

"Is it working?" Vincent asked.

"Yeah, I made it through work today without getting sent to court. Cleaning is incredibly boring."

Veronica sat down at our table with a tray of food. "How is everyone doing on collecting their items? I got everything on my list except the water."

"I got everything except the mosquito repellent," Laura said.

Collins gave Laura a disapproving glance. "Great, now we're going to become bug food because of you."

"I tried my best, but the doctor refused to give it to me."

"That's fine," I said. "I'm sure we can survive a few mosquito bites."

"I can't, man," Collins complained. "I got sweet blood!"

"Well, if that's a problem, then you can always stay here in Walnut Cherryville," Laura said.

"No, I ain't staying here and cleaning no more."

"Veronica, there are water-bottle packs in packaging services already that the workers hand out to the truck drivers," Vincent mentioned. "We should probably steal the water from there after the perimeter sweep."

"Sounds good to me," Veronica said.

"I got the uniforms and plastic bags," I added. "What about those unassigned items? Who's going to get those?"

"I think we might be able to find the compass, map, and possibly a few other items in the Quintons' office," Veronica suggested. "The only problem is that the office is highly secure, and the only way in is if the governor or Kenneth invites you in. I would need someone to go with me to be a distraction."

"I'll do it," I said quickly. What? What did I just agree to? The words came out of my mouth before I could even think about what she said.

"OK, cool. I think we should do it tonight after dinner. Johnny, you should set up an appointment with Kenneth through ComCon before dinner is over, otherwise we might not be able to get the items before we leave."

"How do you set up an appointment?" I asked.

"I'm sure I can figure it out," Vincent said. "ComCon and I have a bond."

Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head from side to side.

"Catch you guys later," Vincent said. "Let's go."

Vincent and I left the cafeteria and took the glass elevator up to my room. When I touched the screen, the glass wall lit up with colors.

"Jonathan Cockit-Gilbertson, how may I help you?"

I searched the screen for options, but there was nothing I could press that would express to ComCon what I wanted.

"She does voice recognition," Vincent whispered. "Tell her what you want."

"I would like to make an appointment."

"With whom shall I make this appointment?"

"Kenneth Quinton."

"Let me check when he is available. He is available tonight from eight to eight thirty. Should I book the appointment for then?"

"Yes."

"What is the appointment regarding?"

I paused for a moment...What was I going to talk to Kenneth about that would give Veronica enough time to find what we needed?

"Work," I said.

Two buttons popped up on the screen that said send and edit. I pressed send.

"Your appointment request has been sent to Kenneth Quinton for approval. When the appointment is approved, I will notify you."

"So I guess now we sit here until he approves it," I said.

"Yep," Vincent responded.

It didn't take longer than five minutes for Kenneth to approve the appointment. I felt nervous because so many things could go wrong. What if he noticed Veronica rummaging through his stuff? What if I couldn't distract him long enough? What the hell was I supposed to talk about for thirty minutes? I guess we'd find out soon. The greater the risk, the greater the reward was what people always said. A compass and map was something we couldn't afford to leave without. It was almost more important than water.

A few minutes before the appointment, Veronica met up with me in the hallway to discuss how she would get into the office. I needed to make sure Kenneth walked into the office first, so I could pretend to close the door but really leave it slightly open. Veronica told me to sit in the chair against the wall at the small wooden table in the corner of the room. This would ensure Kenneth's back was turned to the desk. If I picked the seat first, he would have no other choice but to sit across from me unless he wanted to sit uncomfortably close. She'd give me five minutes to get the conversation going before she quietly snuck into the office. I would have to ramble, keep Kenneth extremely engaged in the conversation, and make sure he didn't leave the table while Veronica was still around. It was a dangerous plan, but it would have to work.

I waited next to his office until it was time. To the right of the door was a keypad of round, red buttons that didn't have any numbers or letters on them. Beneath the keypad was a square of green glass built into the wall. This had to be the high-security system Veronica was talking about.

"Good evening," Kenneth said as he walked past me. He pressed the red buttons in a certain order that opened the green glass. Actually, the glass wasn't green; it was the substance behind the glass that was green. Kenneth placed his hand deeply into the green, gooey substance behind the glass and left it there for several seconds. The green goo lit up brightly before the office door opened. I assumed this was some sort of a fingerprint identity scanner. "Go ahead," Kenneth said.

"No, I insist, after you," I replied. I followed Kenneth into the office and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Once I spotted the small wooden table, I walked past Kenneth and sat down in the chair against the wall. Oh shit, there were three chairs!

Kenneth looked like he was going for the chair to my left with a better view of the door.

I swiftly grabbed the leg of the chair with my feet, pulled it closer to me, and used it as a footrest. "Working in laundry services is hard work. I'm on my feet all day, so this footrest is nice."

"Make yourself at home," Kenneth said sarcastically. He sat down in the only chair available: the one where his back faced the desk. "So you want to talk about work?"

"I don't think laundry services is the right place for my talents," I said. "Would it be possible to change jobs? I'd like to be a gatherer because they get to work outside in the forest. I'm really good at climbing trees and picking fruit."

"I'm sorry I can't change your job."

"Why not?"

"That's just how it works here. The government assigns jobs as they become available."

"But what if I could get a gatherer to agree to switch jobs with me?"

"The job you have now is not the job you'll have forever," Kenneth explained. "Every year we evaluate our workers based on their supervisor's reports and their loyalty to the community."

Veronica crept into the office, closed the door slowly, and crawled to the desk.

"If you get good reviews and the community likes you, we will offer you a higher-level position next year. It may or may not be in laundry services. Your first job at Walnut Cherryville is not given to you based on what you want or the skills you already possess. We just picked the jobs at random, because it shouldn't matter what job you're assigned. The jobs are so easy that anyone could learn to do them within a week."

Veronica quietly rummaged through the desk drawers.

"All we're looking for are the basic qualities of a good worker. You have to learn the rules before you can play the game. Show up for work on time, listen to your supervisor, and perform your duties without many mistakes. If you do that, you will get the job you want within a few years."

I didn't understand. When we first arrived at Walnut Cherryville, Kenneth told us that we were captured because we had skills that the village "desperately needed," and now he was telling me that anyone could do my job? I already knew that was true, but why couldn't he get his story straight? There was something really odd about this whole situation.

"That's a long time to wait," I responded. "Don't you think workers would perform better on their jobs if they actually liked what they were doing?"

"People don't know what they actually want to do with their lives," Kenneth replied. "If the government let people do that, they'd change their jobs a thousand times before they discovered which jobs they liked. The point of Walnut Cherryville is to create a stress-free environment where all the hard decisions are made for the people. You're new, so you don't appreciate this yet. If you ask anyone who's lived here for several years, they'll tell you how great it is not to be burdened with making life's tough choices. Besides, people who work for Walnut Cherryville get everything they could possibly need handed to them for free. What could be better than that? What could be better than a life where you don't have to worry about anything?"

"Maybe a shave and a haircut," I said. "I'm a little scruffy." Veronica chuckled, and I laughed over her.

"I heard a sound," Kenneth said. "What was that?"

"I didn't hear anything. What did it sound like?"

"It came from over there, by the desk," he said, as Veronica ducked her head down right before Kenneth glanced over there.

"Anyway, is there anywhere I can get a shave and a haircut?" I asked.

"Well, there is a place in the glass building that gives a good shave and will shorten your hair. Ask ComCon about it. Well, if that's all, I must get back to work. I'm a very busy man."

Veronica crawled back to the door, opened it slowly, and stepped out of the room.

"I hope you're happy here, Johnny, and appreciative of everything Walnut Cherryville has given you."

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me," I said as I stood up.

"You're welcome."

I left the office and met up with Veronica in the hall. "Why did you laugh? Kenneth was getting suspicious."

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," Veronica laughed. "But I'm letting it all out now." She pushed me playfully. "You're funny."

I pushed the up button on the elevator. "Did you find anything?"

The elevator door opened, and we got in. "I got a few things. Seems like somebody does a lot of traveling."

When we got to my room, Veronica emptied her uniform. She had found water purification tablets, a flashlight, a compass, and a map. Laura, Vincent, and Collins gathered around.

"Ready to find out where we are?" I asked before I unrolled the map. The map was printed on parchment paper and sketched with black pencil...not what I expected. Unfortunately, this was only a map of Walnut Cherryville Village, which looked more like a drawing or urban plan.

"Was this the only map in his desk?" I asked.

"Yep, the only one," Veronica responded.

"I don't think that's what we were looking for," Collins said.

"Well, we can't put it back now. I guess we'll just have to keep it. Who knows, maybe it's not as simple as it seems."

I rolled the map back up and hid it in my sleeping bag.

* * *

You know what was not as simple as it seemed? Becoming a real cowboy. Like all kids between the ages of seven and ten, I went through a phase. The old Westerns my biological parents watched at home convinced me that I wanted to be a cowboy. For Halloween, I was a cowboy three years in a row because I liked the personality that came with the costume but also because my parents didn't want spend money to get me a new costume. They bought the costume from the Salvation Army, where they usually bought all my clothes and gave it to me as a birthday present wrapped in newspaper. Halloween wasn't the only time I wore that costume; I wore it religiously like it was everyday clothes. Sometimes I'd try to go to school in it, but my mom always caught me and made me change into normal clothes before I walked too far from the trailer park. I felt so cool in my cowboy costume because, besides the clothes, it came with a traditional hat, boots, and even a toy gun. I'd spend hours on Saturday afternoons watching cowboy movies in my costume, jumping on the couch, and shooting at imaginary Indians. When the movies were over, I'd sneak around outside, protecting the trailer from neighbors who passed by. They all looked at me like I was crazy. Everyone dropped to the floor when they heard the sound of my fake gun. They must have thought it was a real shooting.

One day my dad said if I wanted to be a real cowboy, I needed to learn how to shoot correctly, so he took me out to an abandoned country area, and we practiced shooting empty beer bottles with real guns. I wasn't very good at first, but he taught me how to aim and focus on my target, so after a few tries, I got better. Once I got beer bottles down pat, he introduced me to birds and small animals, so I could practice on moving targets. Whatever I shot that day was what we ate for dinner that night: mostly snakes, lizards, and scorpions.

The night I shot a man was the last time I held a gun of any type. What I've always tried to forget seems very clear to me now. My father and I sat at the dinner table watching Mom carve and serve the snake with a side of collard greens and whole-kernel cornbread. Father was impatient, so he grabbed a beer and popped the top by banging it against the edge of the plastic table.

"Fredrick, how many times do I have to tell you about not using the furniture to open your beers," Mom shouted.

"You can't tell me what to do, woman," Dad responded. "I make the money in this house!"

"Hardly," she muttered under her breath. "If you did, we wouldn't be living in a trailer."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, sweetie, here's your dinner," she said as she placed his plate in front of him with a fork and knife. "Enjoy your snake."

"That's right, my trailer, my furniture, my snake; you can only have it if I say you can."

"Trust me, I don't want it."

Mom always made the best snake. It was so tender, juicy, and flavorful. Almost like eating buttermilk-fried chicken, because she sprinkled salt and pepper on it, dipped it in buttermilk, and then coated it in flour before it was fried in vegetable oil on the stove top. Buttermilk-fried snake used to be my favorite dinner. We finished eating at eight o'clock in the evening, and Mom was tired from all the work she put into preparing the snake for dinner.

"I'm going to bed, Fredrick; I'm tired as shit," Mom said. "You make sure little Johnny don't go to bed too late, now. Remember his bed time is nine o'clock."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll tuck him in later," Dad said. After Mom fell asleep, Dad whispered to me. "Hey, Johnny, do you want to go on a cowboy adventure?"

"Yeah," I said, excitedly. I was ready to go because I'd been wearing my cowboy costume all day.

"We gotta visit an old friend in the rich part of town. He borrowed some things that don't belong to him, so we need to take them back," Dad said as he took out a hidden bag of tools from under the couch. We headed out of the trailer and into the truck.

"What did he borrow, Pa?" I asked.

Dad started the truck. "A lot of shiny, expensive things."

We drove for thirty minutes until we entered a neighborhood where the houses looked like white mansions. They were built far apart from each other and were equipped with columns on the front porch, a large garden, and sculptured fountains. When we approached my dad's friend's house, Dad turned off his headlights and snuck into the driveway quietly before he turned off the car.

"Johnny, you stay in here, OK?"

"But, Pa, I want to go on the adventure with you!"

Dad reached into his bag of tools and pulled out a gun. "Take this," he said, putting it in my lap. "If anyone tries to hurt you, then you know what to do with it. Stay here; I'm going inside. Also, here are the keys. When you see me come out, start the car right away."

"OK, Pa."

Dad got out of the car, closed the door, and walked to the front door. He stood there for a long time, doing something to the door with his tools. I wanted to ask him if he needed any help, but he told me to stay in the truck, so I did. When he entered the house, I couldn't see anything anymore. This wasn't an adventure; it felt like an errand. After a few minutes, the dark house became lit with lights on the first floor. The shadows of two people physically fighting appeared through the window, and I got out of the car to see what was wrong. I took the gun with me, opened the front door, and saw that my father was being choked to death by a strange man I had never seen before.

"Shoot him," Dad said.

With trembling hands, I aimed the gun at the strange man, focused on my target, and shot him in the head, which exploded with blood. The man thumped to the floor, and my father walked away to collect his things. I dropped the gun, rushed over, and kneeled beside him to examine the damage...He might be all right. His skin became pale fairly quick, and I noticed part of his skull was missing, but where did it go? A crimson tide of blood approached my feet and tainted my cowboy boots. I found the missing piece only a few feet away. When I reached for it, I fell into the pool of warm blood. I thought that maybe if I put it back, he'd be OK.

"Johnny, what are you doing?" Dad shouted. "Get away from the body!"

"Is your friend going to be OK? He's missing this," I said, holding up the skull piece.

"Put that down, and don't touch anything!"

I dropped it on the floor. For some reason, shooting a person made me feel self-conscious, which was something I never experienced when I shot animals. There was no challenge or thrill of the chase: just a defenseless man who was outnumbered and had no place to hide. Hunting always felt like a fun game to me, but this didn't feel like hunting. Dad grabbed all the shiny things he could and stuffed them into bags. As I continued to gaze down at the body, sadness stirred inside me, and I really didn't know why. I didn't know this man; I had never seen him before in my life. Why did I suddenly have feelings for him? My eyes watered. "I'm sorry I hurt your friend," I said.

"It's OK," Dad said. "We weren't that close."

I started crying, and Dad dragged me away from the body. "Johnny, it's OK; you're a real cowboy now."

"I am?" I asked as Dad rushed me out the door. He threw the bags in the back of the truck, started the engine, and casually drove away like nothing happened.

"You were so brave in there, and only real cowboys are that brave."

"Oh, wow, wait until Mom finds out how brave I was."

"You must never tell your mother about this," Dad said. "You must never tell anybody about this. If someone asks you about tonight and what happened, you say, 'I don't know what you're talking about.' You understand me?"

"Yes, Pa."

Chapter 13: Laura

Tomorrow we escape, but today I had to pretend to seduce Darnell, the truck driver. I stood outside, leaning against the glass building and watching the truck drivers as I licked my strawberry frozen yogurt cone. The trucks looked like they were almost ready to leave. Their cargo containers were pretty much full, so I had to think of something fast. How was I supposed to get Darnell to leave with me? Should I go over there and flash him a boob, or come up with a cheesy pick-up line? Wait...I saw a black man walking over here, maybe it was Darnell. As he walked closer to the glass building, I noticed his sunglasses. Yep, it was him. Now that he was separated from the other truck drivers, this should be a little easier. I threw the cone away, fixed my hair, and unbuttoned the top three buttons on my uniform. Darnell scanned his key under the key scanner, and the door unlocked. As he reached for the door, I bolted in front of him and sprawled myself across the glass.

"I'm horney; do you want to have sex?" I said.

"Hmm," Darnell said, thinking while he rubbed his chin. "Flash me what's under your uniform."

I unbuttoned all the buttons on my uniform and flashed him my boobs and midsection.

"Nice; I can work with that," he said. "Yeah, I'll do you. I'm supposed to drive the produce to a grocery store in fifteen minutes, so we'll have to rush. You want to come up to my room?"

"Well, I was thinking something more exotic," I said as I buttoned up my uniform. "Something that takes longer than fifteen minutes." I ran my hand down his face and felt his strong, chiseled chest.

"Oh, sexy, I could have you right now," he said as he pulled me toward him and squeezed my butt. "What do you have in mind?"

"You'll have to find out once we get to the forest," I said, pulling away.

"The forest, that's far. I don't know if I have time for that."

"Are you sure? It's only a one-time offer."

"Well, let me see if I could get someone to fill in for me." He opened the door, and we walked into the glass building. Out of nowhere, he picked me up and carried me to the elevator.

"Oh, what strong arms you have."

"I work out every day." He put me down in the elevator and flexed his guns at me until we arrived at the thirty-second floor. After we got off the elevator, we went to his room where he used ComCon to send a message to his supervisor. He said he felt sick, would be going to the medical wing for treatment, and asked if it would be possible for someone else to fill in this shift. "Let me know if he responds, I have to go to the restroom."

The rooms on the thirty-second floor looked different from those on my floor. Darnell's room had a full-sized air mattress accompanied by a sheet, blanket, and two pillows! Why did the people on this floor have more things than the people on my floor? He even got his own room and didn't have to share.

Darnell was in the bathroom for five minutes, and he didn't receive a reply message yet. I didn't want to wait forever to get this guy's scan key and sunglasses, so I lied to him when he returned from the bathroom. "Your supervisor said that he's got you covered," I said.

"Great, lead the way," he said.

Once we entered the forest, I looked for a secluded spot with objects I could use to knock him out. Unfortunately, all I found was fruit, when I wanted rocks. Maybe if I had asked Amy in advance, she would have let me borrow her shiv (just kidding). I should have stolen a knife or fork from the cafeteria, but I never thought of it. What if it wasn't that easy to knock him out? Hopefully he would go out if I pushed him hard against a tree. "Here we are," I said. I pushed him against the tree as hard as I could, but it didn't work.

"Oh, yeah, I like a girl who plays rough," he said as he ripped off my uniform.

I kissed him while I scanned the tree for reachable mangos. There was one in reach, so I pulled it off the branch. For my second attempt, I rammed the mango into his forehead, which caused the back of his head to hit the tree. That still didn't knock him out, but he became disoriented for a minute, which was long enough to give me a head start. I stole the key from his breast pocket, took the sunglasses off his face, and started to run away, wearing nothing but my panties and bra. He had the advantage of still wearing his uniform and shoes. I ran as fast as I could, but without shoes, my feet quickly became wounded with cuts and scrapes from scattered twigs on the ground. He was gaining on me. I needed to find help. "Help, this man is trying to rape me," I screamed. I tripped on a tree root and fell face down on the ground.

"You brought me out here to steal from me! Oh, that's a bad move, little girl," he said as he picked me up off the ground and threw me over his shoulder. He held my legs together, leaving me nearly defenseless. "You're going to pay me back for all my time that you've wasted and for getting me excited and not putting out!" He started walking deeper into the forest.

I punched his backside several times, but he still marched onward like he didn't feel a thing. I did the only thing I could think of. "I have HIV," I announced.

"No you don't," he said. "You're just saying that to get out of getting fucked."

"I'm not lying," I insisted.

"It's better if you're not awake for this." He stopped short, spun around, and smacked my head against a tree.

My body became weak as my mind filled with blackness, and I was entranced in a deep, deep sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, I was resting under a tree naked. My eyes were sensitive to light, I suffered from a pounding headache, and my muscles were still weak. Darnell was next to me, naked and sleeping...What happened? Did I even want to know? Did he rape me?

"Ah, I see you're up," Amy said.

I looked around and couldn't see her. "Where are you?"

"I'm sitting up here in the tree."

"What happened to him?"

"It looked like he was raping a dead body, so I made him stop."

"How did you get him to stop?"

"I have five years of karate under my belt and a shiv. He has nothing but strength and nowhere to put it. He was no match for me. I found your clothes," she said as she dropped them down to me, along with my shoes.

I put my uniform and shoes back on. "Thank you."

"What were you doing with him? He's a truck driver; why would he venture out into the forest?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," I said as I looked around for his scan key and sunglasses. "Where is his stuff?"

"So you were stealing from him?"

"Yes," I sighed.

"Tell me why, or I won't give you back his stuff."

I looked up in the tree and saw Amy holding his uniform, sunglasses, and scan key. "I can't tell you why. It's a secret, and there are other people involved."

"I just saved your life," Amy explained. "I deserve an explanation about what the hell you were trying to accomplish."

"I really can't tell you."

"You want the goods or not?"

"Fine, my friends and I are trying to escape. I need to get this guy's scan key and sunglasses, so my friend Collins can steal his identity. We already have his spare uniform."

"So basically you led him on, and when he found out you were playing him, he raped you," Amy said. "What a fantastic plan you guys must have. Where were your friends when this was happening to you? Did no one think that seducing the Hulk would be dangerous? Did they even think about sending backup in case something went wrong? Laura, these people don't sound like friends to me. It sounds like they sent you on a suicide mission."

What if Amy was right? I hardly knew the people I called my friends. Were we even really friends or just school acquaintances? I understood that only a woman could do this job, but there were two women available, and they all pointed to me instead of Veronica. Someone could have gone with me and hid in the background to make sure I was OK. I told them I didn't want the task in the first place, but they insisted that I do it until they forced my agreement.

"Amy, I understand what you're saying, but I don't think they meant for this to happen," I said. "It was a poorly planned way to get the items we needed, so things went wrong."

"OK, say you're right; say it's just a hole in the plan. Do you really feel comfortable enough to trust that the rest of the plan will work? What if there are holes in other parts of the plan? Your life was already at risk once, would you really put it at risk again? Remember, if the government catches you escaping, you die. All of you will die. I've seen it happen before, and it's not worth it. Whatever plan you have, I bet it's not good enough for what you're going up against."

"Do you want to join us and help us make the plan more successful?"

"Are you not listening to what I'm saying? I'm telling you not to escape because it's too dangerous, and none of you are smart enough to pull it off. Sorry if I'm being rude."

"I can't spend the rest of my life here. That's all it really comes down to. I have to leave."

"Well then, good luck to you," Amy said as she handed me Darnell's scan key and sunglasses. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Amy climbed down from the tree and draped Darnell's uniform over his body. She kicked his head a few more times to make sure he was really out, before she began to dig a hole with her bare hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to bury the body for you."

I picked up a mango from Amy's basket and stuffed it into Darnell's mouth. "Can I help?"

After Amy nodded her approval, I got down on my hands and knees and helped her dig a grave. Dirt accumulated under my nails as we dug the hole in silence. Sweat dripped down my face, and I smeared it away with my dirty hands. It took about fifteen minutes to dig a hole that was deep enough to cover the body. We scrunched Darnell up into the fetal position and placed the body in the hole carefully before patching it up with dirt.

"Just think about what I said, OK?" Amy said before she picked up her basket of mangos and walked away.

I gave Vincent thirty pounds of mangos before lunch, and I called it a day. After I got out of the forest, I got my shower coin from my supervisor. Even though it wasn't five yet, he still gave it to me anyway because I reached the minimum required weight. I took a shower and cleaned all the cuts with soap and water, which burned like hell. I cried in the shower alone. Luckily there was no one around to hear me. It was just me and my thoughts.

When these cuts healed and became scars, I would always be reminded about what happened to me. I was upset with myself for not being more careful, and I was angry with my so-called friends for not having my back. I was tired of people always seeing me as the slut that would do things for them. I was trying to change my ways, and somehow I kept getting trapped in the same old thing. I was being forced to work in a factory against my will, I had HIV, and I had been raped. What was next? Were there any more bad cards life could throw at me?

Even though Amy was not my friend, she was right. They should have been there for me, and if they were stupid enough to let me do that task alone, then maybe we shouldn't escape together. Maybe I should spend the rest of my life here, traumatized and depressed but hopeful that I might learn to like it. Maybe I could prevent bad things from happening to me if I stopped fighting and learned to embrace this life.

After I dried myself off with a towel, I sunk into a bathroom stall with the medical supplies I stole yesterday. I put antiseptic cream on my feet, wrapped them up with the elastic bandage, and taped it closed before I put on a fresh pair of socks. The gash near my eye was pretty bad, so I put cream on it, but there was no way to wrap it up without looking like the victim of a car crash.

When I returned to my room, I took out the piece of paper with the list of medical supplies written on it and erased it. I wrote a note to everyone.

To Vincent, Johnny, Collins, and Veronica:

I'm staying here. Your items are now in Vincent's sleeping bag. Stay alive.

Your friend,

Laura

I slid the note under Collins's and Johnny's door with the sketch side up and the note facedown. I wasn't going to dinner tonight. I didn't feel like having to explain myself to anybody. I went back into my room, got into my sleeping bag, and cuddled my pillow.

* * *

At the end of the day, most girls who went to Sonoran Correctional hid the money they earned at lunch under their mattress covers. Next, they covered it up with a sheet, followed by a blanket. In the crowded dormitory that I slept in, there weren't that many concealed places for a girl to hide her nest egg of ones and fives. The twin-sized bed on the top bunk was really the only thing I could call my own that I didn't have to share with anybody else.

Beside every bunk bed, there was a dresser with six drawers. I got the top three drawers, and Nancy, who slept below me, got the bottom three. I would never hide anything in the dressers because sometimes I found that even my clothes went missing. Everyone knew that if the money wasn't in your pocket, it was under the mattress cover, so when a girl's bed stayed unattended for too long, rats came out to nibble on the cheese.

The trick to stealing another girl's money was to take no more than a single bill. There were forty girls per room, so if thirty-nine girls took thirty-nine bills from different sides of the bed, then the girl who got robbed would not feel the loss unless she recounted her money. Some girls like me set their money out on the bed in folded patterns, so it would be easier to tell if something was taken. I always folded mine into diamond shapes and laid it out so that each point touched another.

Every girl knew that stealing was common in the dorms, but the girls were less likely to steal when they didn't realize they had been stolen from. If someone took from me, it was pretty obvious, so I stole what I lost from someone else. I hadn't been in school for nearly a week, so my nest egg was probably gone because the girls thought I wouldn't return. Without that money, I'd have nowhere to go except the soup kitchen when I graduated high school. Living in a town that didn't use money was actually kind of nice because I didn't have to worry about people stealing it.

When Vincent, Johnny, Collins, and Veronica saw my note, they visited me individually with one goal in mind: to persuade me to leave Walnut Cherryville. I told them about what happened to me, my concerns about escaping, and that I was disappointed in all of them.

Vincent took the observant approach.

"Laura, your unhappiness didn't surface until you were brought to Walnut Cherryville. When something bad happens to you, I notice that you get upset with everyone else, even though they had nothing to do with the problem you're facing. It's not our fault that you're here, that you have HIV, or that you got raped. If you wanted backup for your task, you should have asked for it. Any one of us would have been willing to help you, but no one knew you needed help. You were careless, you didn't observe Darnell, you didn't plan out how you would achieve your task, and you didn't bring anything to protect yourself with in case something went wrong. You look irritated; did I say something wrong?"

"So saying everything was my fault is how you're convincing me to continue with the escape?" I asked.

"I will not push you one way or another; it's up to you to decide," Vincent said as he gave me a long hug.

Johnny took the apologetic approach.

"Laura, I'm really sorry that I wasn't there for you when you needed me most. I promise that we will look over the rest of the escape plan and make sure things like that don't happen again. Despite my mistake, I still feel that you should to come with us. We can't leave without you because that's not right. If you're not coming with us, then none of us will leave; we will all stay here with you. I don't like leaving my friends behind."

Collins took a selfish approach.

"Now you listen to me, girl; I'm not going to let you and your emotional problems stand in the way of my career! I need to get out of here, and I will get out of here whether you come with us or not! I've worked hard to ensure a good future for myself back home, and I'm not going to let you ruin that for me! Also, you've been a real bitch to me, so I have no sympathy for you."

Veronica took a spiritual approach.

"Laura, God wouldn't send you challenges that he didn't think you could handle. I don't know you that well, but I know that you have to have faith in people and faith in yourself to succeed. You shouldn't give up hope just because something bad happened to you. Trust me, I've lived here for years, and I know you don't want a life in Walnut Cherryville. It's not much of a life at all. Laura, have you spoken to God lately? Join hands with me, and let's pray together."

Should I go? Should I stay? Maybe I would let them know tomorrow.

Chapter 14: Collins

The air was fresh with freedom. I felt pumped, ready to go. It was my time to shine. The most important part of the escape would fall on my shoulders. I knew the others doubted whether or not I was reliable enough for the task, but I was going to prove to them that I was a valuable member of this team. They had singled me out, so if the truck driver wasn't black, then I wouldn't have been assigned any tasks at all. Their reasoning made them foolish, but that was their fault. A TEAM (together, everyone, achieves, more) cannot operate efficiently with weak or useless links. Who would know that better than a basketball player?

* * *

The final game of last year's season was the most epic game that the Phoenix Banded Gila Monsters had ever played. Our name, suggested by Johnny, took after a venomous lizard that lives in the Sonoran desert. The Banded Gila Monster was one of two types of venomous lizards in the world, which represented our team's rare diversity of players. We were murderers, carjackers, thieves, drug dealers, rapists, and addicts morphed into basketball players. We played games against normal high schools, who would sometimes fear us because we came from a correctional school. Like the Banded Gila Monster, we struck our opponents quickly with painful results. Our uniforms were bright orange with bold black text to represent the most dominant colors of the Banded Gila Monster.

Last season, we played the championship game against the Tucson Bobcats, which was a very close game. With only thirty seconds left in the fourth quarter, the Bobcats had sixty-four points and the Monsters sixty-two points. The Bobcats had a strong defense, making it nearly impossible to pass the ball. Johnson was close to the net, but the defense blocked him so well that he couldn't score a basket, so he passed it to me at the three-point line. Once I got the ball, I had to act fast. A Bobcat was stampeding over to block me. I quickly took a shot at the net from the three-point line, hoping and praying that it would go in. That shot was our last chance at winning the championship. Luckily, the ball left my hands right before the buzzer went off.

"Collins Greene, number seven, point guard, scored three points, which ends the game, giving the championship to the Phoenix Banded Gila Monsters," the announcer said.

We won the game by one point—thanks to me. My team crowded around me, cheering me on, and saying, "Greene, Greene, Greene" as they picked me up with excitement. This was the first championship we had ever won, and I was proud of myself and my team. We had no weak or useless links that day.

* * *

Though basketball had taught me some important teamwork skills, it hadn't taught me how to regain trust with a team that didn't believe in me before the game. Johnny was my closest friend, but even he couldn't contain the fearsome rumors Vincent had spread to the rest of the group. Vincent claimed he was my friend, but he didn't always encourage and support me during a crisis. Instead, he shot me down in front of the rest of the group with what he called observations. He told me not to take it personal, but how could I not? He told everyone that I was unreliable and a weak link in the chain. If he thought I was a weak link, then what did he call Laura? She bailed on us, so I called her a quitter. It was time to save my integrity and prove all of them wrong!

I zipped down my sleeping bag, got dressed, and washed up in the bathroom. At breakfast, I served myself a meal of pure protein: eggs, bacon, and sausage. Veronica caught up with me at the end of the buffet line.

"I got you a plate of food, but it looks like you don't need it," Veronica said. "That looks like a good meal to have for the big day, so I'll eat this one."

Veronica and I took our trays and met Johnny and Vincent at the table.

"So, any news from Laura?" Johnny asked, but no one answered. "I'm particularly asking Vincent since you live with her."

"She didn't talk to me all night," Vincent responded.

"That's not what I saw," I said. "You two were cuddling all night. I don't know any woman who cuddles silently."

Veronica gave me a judgmental glance.

"Oh, sorry, Veronica; I'm just trying to say that it's impossible that they didn't speak all night."

"Well, I asked her if she wanted to talk, and she didn't. I don't think she likes when I talk to her...It seems to make her more upset."

"So how did you end up cuddling?"

"I just do it because it makes her feel better," Vincent said.

"Is she coming down to breakfast?" Johnny asked. "We really need to discuss this because we need a decision before we start work."

"Oh, look, there she is," Veronica announced.

Laura made herself a tray of eggs, mixed fruit, and toast before she sat down at our table. She must have been hungry, because she started eating right away and ignored the fact that everyone was silent as they listened intently for her decision. It was OK; we could wait. Just take your sweet time. We only had to start work in twenty minutes.

"Good morning, Laura," Johnny said. "I hope you had a good night. Did you sleep well?"

"OK, I'm just going to cut right to the chase," I said. "We don't need to drag this out longer than it needs to be; it's a simple decision. Are you leaving or not?"

"I'm staying here, but that doesn't mean you guys can't leave," Laura said.

"Well, it's settled then, we're leaving."

"Collins, calm down," Johnny said. "Don't be so antsy."

"That won't work," Veronica responded. "If we escape and leave Laura here, that wouldn't be good for any of us. Once the government knew we were gone, they'd torture Laura to find out where we went, and she would be forced to tell them. We can't split up."

"Well, we shouldn't tell Laura where we're going then," I suggested.

"Your friend will die, Collins; do you care about that?" Veronica asked.

"She's not my friend."

"You should care and have more compassion for other people. Your attitude is really unhealthy. I want to leave just as badly as you do, but right now you need to focus all your energy on getting Laura to come with us."

"She's right, Collins," Johnny added. "Don't be a dick."

I laughed. "I can't help it. I'm so frustrated with her."

"Laura, would you step outside the cafeteria with me for a moment?" Vincent asked.

"Sure," Laura said, as they both stood up from the table. They left the table and walked out of the cafeteria.

From where I was sitting, I could still see them conversing through the glass. Based on their facial expressions and body movements, I imagined their conversation went something like this:

"Baby, I really need you to come with me," Vincent said, looking deep into Laura's eyes. He took her hand and held it in his. "Before you, I didn't have a heart. I didn't care about anything, but now, I can't live without you."

"Oh, that's so sweet," Laura said, with a tear in her eye. "But I can't...I...don't know how to love."

"But you do," Vincent said. "Don't you feel anything when we cuddle?"

"Sometimes," Laura responded, looking down at the floor.

"Look at me," Vincent said, touching her face. They gazed into each other's eyes like all the couples do in those sappy romantic movies. He wiped her tears away with his thumb as he held her face in his hand. "Don't ever think you're not beautiful. You're the most beautiful girl in this place. I love you."

"Oh, I'd love to ride away with you, but I'm afraid your carriage is not white enough," Laura said, grabbing his hands and dropping them down to his waist. She gave him a hug.

"I'll do anything for you; just tell me what it is, and it's done," Vincent whispered in Laura's ear during their embrace.

"I want you to give me all your money and everything you have, and then...I want you to kill yourself," Laura said before she locked lips with Vincent....wait—what??? Holy shit!

"Johnny, Johnny," I said, poking his arm, "Vincent and Laura are kissing!"

"Yeah right; Vincent doesn't like girls," Johnny laughed.

I stood up and moved Johnny's head into the right position. "Are you sure?"

"Hmm, that's interesting."

Laura and Vincent walked back into the cafeteria and worked their way through the crowd until they got to our table.

"I'm in," Laura said. "Let's go."

"Yes!" I cheered. "Off to work, everybody; let's go; see you all later!"

By morning, I was Collins the janitor. By lunchtime, I was Darnell, truck driver with awesome sunglasses. I checked into janitorial services, grabbed my cleaning cart, and started cleaning the men's room. After two hours of cleaning, I heard an announcement from outside the men's room.

"Good morning, Walnut Cherryville citizens, a new episode of Chair Trials will air in five minutes," Kenneth said through the screen. "Please stop what you're doing, and return to the glass building to view the show. The guards will begin their perimeter sweep now."

I went back to my room and found Darnell's uniform, scan key, and sunglasses in my sleeping bag. Johnny arrived only moments later to get his guard uniform.

"Good luck, man," Johnny said, giving me a bro hug. "Make us proud."

I returned to the men's room, occupied an empty stall, and transformed into Darnell. As I walked out of the stall, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung over the sinks. "I look good," I said before I ditched Collins in the trash. When I left the restroom, I shuffled in with the crowd heading toward the entertainment room. Once I got on the first floor, I peered out the glass wall to see if I could spot the others. Four guards, two guys, and two ladies walked out of the glass building, carrying cardboard boxes. That was probably them heading toward the packaging area to do the perimeter sweep.

So far, everything was going according to plan. I stood in the back corner of the entertainment room, leaning against the wall with my arms folded and waiting for Chair Trials to start. If anyone here knew Darnell, I didn't want them to approach me because they might recognize that I was a Darnell imposter. I looked like him, but I probably didn't sound like him, so I should avoid confrontation.

"Hey, bro, what's up?" a man said as he walked up to me and motioned a high five. By the look of his uniform, I could tell he was a fellow truck driver.

"Hey, man," I said, giving him a high five.

"You missed your shift yesterday, bro, what happened?"

"I'm sick," I said, coughing lamely.

"Sorry to hear that, dude, feel better. I'll catch you later, bro," he said before he walked away.

That was close...Thank God this guy was incredibly stupid. The people in the entertainment room got rowdy and started cheering when the walls lit up with colors. The guards yelled at everyone to sit down, so everyone could see the show. I didn't care about seeing the show. Frankly, I didn't want to be reminded again about my Chair Trials experience, but that didn't matter because I was forced to watch it anyway. The red curtain on the screen opened, revealing the five contestants who were tied to chairs, before the camera went back to Kenneth.

"Welcome back to another thrilling episode of Chair Trials. I'm your host, Kenneth Quinton. Behind me are five criminals who have all broken the laws of Walnut Cherryville. This morning, you're going to hear their stories about what they did and why they did it. At the end of the show, you, the viewers in the glass building, get to decide who gets the chair. You will have thirty minutes to place your vote with ComCon at the end of the show. When the thirty minutes are up, we will share the results. Now, let's begin! Our first contestant is Juan, a strawberry picker from the Walnut Cherryville produce fields. He was charged with abandonment."

The viewers gasped.

"Juan, why would you ever want to abandon your village?"

"This isn't my home," Juan said. "I was taken away from my wife who was about to deliver our first baby. No psycho is going to stand in the way of a father and his newborn child."

Kenneth smiled intensely, trying to cover up his anger. "I suggest you watch your tone; it's rather offensive. That's no way to treat your new family, and in Walnut Cherryville, we're all family, right?"

An automated recording of an applauding audience played, prompting the workers in the entertainment room to applaud. Everyone got rowdy again.

"So, Juan, do you know what the punishment is for abandoning your family?"

"The only punishment is sitting here and having to explain myself to you," Juan said. "This is a waste of time."

"You're right," Kenneth said. "This is a waste of time. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a special surprise for you today. Today, there will be two contestants that get the chair, and one of them is Juan!"

Everyone cheered and roared with excitement while Kenneth pulled Juan's head back by his hair and muttered something in his ear that the camera couldn't hear. What a special Chair Trials. What is wrong with these people? Why are they happy about this? It actually seemed like they were enjoying the show. How did they become so brainwashed? I guess this was a reality check. If our plan failed, we all would be sharing the same fate as Juan. What would Kenneth call a Chair Trials where he killed all five contestants? A season finale. Hopefully Johnny, Vincent, Veronica, Laura, and I weren't part of that season finale.

"Contestant number two, Mark, from medical services was charged with stealing medical supplies. Mark, why did you do it?"

"I'm a germaphobic," Mark said. "I just took hand sanitizer; that's all—I swear!"

"Then how do you explain all the sanitation wipes, antiseptic cream, elastic bandage, and tape that has gone missing?"

"I didn't take any of that."

"By stealing from the medical wing, you're putting other citizens' health at risk! When people get hurt, the doctors need those medical supplies to cure them, and if people just keep stealing them for their own use, the supplies won't be there for the people who actually need them. So, you're afraid of germs? Well, it's time for a deep cleaning. Guards, hold his eyes open." Kenneth pulled an antiseptic wipe out of his suit jacket, tore it open, and wiped Mark's eyeballs until they were bloodshot. Naturally, he cried to get the poison out. Kenneth even squeezed the extra liquid from the sanitation wipe into Marks eyes until the wipe ran dry. Next, he forced the guards to open Mark's mouth, so he could stuff an entire jar of antiseptic cream down Mark's throat.

So the solution to punishing someone for wasting medical supplies was to waste more medical supplies? That didn't make any sense. Besides, he didn't steal all those things; it sounded like he was being punished for the things that Laura stole.

"Tie the elastic bandage around his mouth so he can't spit it out on my polished wood floor! You understand, Mark, these floors were just polished yesterday, and I want them to stay beautiful throughout the show." Kenneth moved on to contestant number three, not realizing that contestant number two had choked on the cream and died within four minutes.

What an awful way to die. Two out of five contestants had died or were set to die before the voting polls were even open...Maybe this was the season finale? I couldn't watch anymore...It was too gruesome. I glanced at the exit, which was surrounded by guards standing in front of the doors. There was no way out until this was over. Tears fell from my eyes, hidden behind Darnell's sunglasses, but I wiped them away before anyone could see.

"Contestant number four, Danielle, from packaging services, was charged with stealing, or should I say freeloading," Kenneth announced. "She didn't earn any shower coins in the last three days, so she found a way to trick the system. Take a look at this short video clip."

The screen switched to a shower scene but with no naked ladies. A man demonstrated how Danielle was able to trick the system into giving her free showers. Somehow, she found a way to punch a tiny hole in the shower coin and connect it to a thin thread. Once she inserted the coin into the slot, the water came on, and she pulled the coin out by the thread.

"Isn't that awful to know that while you all are out there working hard for your shower coins, Danielle is freeloading and hardly lifting a finger?" Kenneth asked the audience.

The audience in the entertainment room shouted with anger. Oh, please, give me a break. It was called surviving! If I had thought of that brilliant idea, I would have done it, too...Everyone probably would have.

"Well, I have good news," Kenneth said. "From now on, we are installing sensors in the shower coin slots that can detect any coins with holes, so this will never happen again!"

Everyone cheered.

Shut up...I was so sick and tired of this. I didn't even listen to the last contestant. I closed my eyes and tuned all the noise out. I could tell the show was over when the guards let everyone out of the entertainment room to vote. Instead of voting, I left the glass building and headed over to the packaging station. I waited there until I saw Darnell's supervisor return to work with the keys to the trucks. I didn't know who Darnell's supervisor was, but I assumed this man was the supervisor because he held a box of keys.

"Well, someone's anxious to get back to work," the supervisor said, "How are you feeling?"

I coughed and pretended to talk but couldn't because I lost my voice.

"All right, I hear you, save your voice," he said, handing me the key to my truck. "Looks like you're loaded and ready to go. Drink plenty of water."

I nodded in agreement before I turned and walked away. When I got to my truck, I knocked on the cargo container to see if my group was in there like they were supposed to be. "Hey guys, it's Collins; are you in there?" I whispered. I heard a knock back, the same knock Johnny used to use to tell me to hurry up on the crapper when we were in school.

I hopped into the driver's seat and studied the inside of the truck while I waited for the other trucks to pull out. I didn't know how to drive, but it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out. I couldn't even remember the last time I sat in a car with someone and watched them drive. One of these pedals was for the gas, and one was for the brakes, but which one was which? I put the key into the ignition and turned it one click. What was it doing? The gadgets were going nuts! I stepped on both pedals, but neither of them worked, so I turned the key further and tried again. When I tested the vertical pedal, the wheels rolled in place. That must be the gas. It was my turn to pull out, but I didn't know what to do. I switched the gears around and pressed the gas, but the truck still didn't move. Eventually, I took so long that Darnell's supervisor came up and knocked on my window. I didn't know how to roll it down, so I opened the door.

"Are you sure you're fit for driving today, Darnell?" the supervisor asked.

I shook my head yes before I gulped in fear...We were going to get caught! "I'm just a little forgetful," I said with a pretend scratchy voice.

"Well, the truck won't move until you take it off the parking brake."

I searched around for the parking brake, but I had no clue where it was. I ran my hand over different objects in the truck, but the supervisor shook his head like my guesses were wrong.

"I'm going to call for backup," he said.

"No, I can do it," I said. "Can't...miss...another day...of work."

"It's fine; you can still make the delivery, but I'm going to get someone else to drive the truck. You can sit in the passenger's seat."

"OK," I said as I scooted over. Unfortunately, he was right. If someone else didn't drive the truck, we weren't ever getting out of here. I would have to find some way to get rid of this other truck driver once we made it out of Walnut Cherryville.

A few minutes later, I reunited with Darnell's stupid truck driver friend who came up to me in the entertainment room. He got into the driver's seat, pulled the truck out, and started chatting away as we followed a long line of trucks to the way out. I hardly paid attention to what he was saying because I was trying to memorize how he operated the truck, so when we ditched him later, I would know what to do. During the conversation, he thought I fell asleep because I was so stiff and quiet. With my sunglasses on, I could pretend to be sleeping while I watched what was going on around me. The truck had a GPS, but the map didn't have any locations marked on it; just a green triangle (the truck) following a bright-purple line (the route) smack in the middle of a yellow background (the desert). The GPS didn't even show where we were going or what time we'd get there.

After fifteen minutes of waiting in line, we drove past the Walnut Cherryville gates. We were finally out! We traveled through the desert land with no roads for two hours before we hit a highway. Once I saw a good exit, I would say I needed to eat and go to the restroom. Do something to make him pullover. I saw a sign for an exit that had a McDonald's within the next two miles.

"I have to take a wizz; can we get off at the next exit?" I asked.

"No can do, sir, and you know that," the driver said. "What are you trying to do? Get me killed?"

"I just need a restroom and a bite to eat."

"What is wrong with you? That sickness must be really messing with your head," the driver said, glancing at me before returning to watch the road. "There are water bottles by your feet and snacks in the doggie bag. If you need to wizz, you have to do it on the side of the road." The driver switched on his turn signal and pulled over. "All right, go do your business; I won't watch you."

"Remind me why we couldn't stop at an exit again."

"There is a lady in the GPS, and she has this huge laser gun," the driver explained, "If we don't follow the purple line exactly, then she'll kill us on the spot."

"Sounds trippy," I said before I got out of the truck to pee. "How is that possible?"

"I have no idea, but I've never driven off course before, and I sure don't plan to. Although I've always dreamed about stopping at White Castle on my route for a burger and fries...and then the strippers...beer..."

I could see he was going off into a daydream tangent. "Sounds nice," I said as I got back into the truck. "You know, if we pass something we could go see it."

"That's not possible."

"Think about it...She thinks you're on route if you pull over to the side of the road. What if we just left the truck on the side of the road for a few hours, locked up, walked to where we wanted to go from here, and had some fun?"

"I've never done that before," he hesitated. "What if she's timing us?"

"She can't do anything to us if we're not here."

"You're right," he said. "Can't believe I've never thought of that before. There's a gentlemen's club at the next exit, want to go there?"

"Sure."

The driver started the engine, drove up to the next exit, and pulled over again. We both got out of the truck. "Hey, man, can I borrow the keys? Want to get some berries to snack on from the back."

"Oh, you're bad," he said as he tossed me the keys. "Make sure you lock up, though."

"Of course, I'll lock up," I said as I opened the cargo container and grabbed a pack of blueberries. "I'm going to snack on my berries while I walk up to the next exit," I said loudly, so the cargo passengers could hear. "Going to watch some ladies dance for me at the gentleman's club," I added before I closed the cargo container, but I didn't lock it. I tossed the keys back to the driver, and we started walking toward the exit. I hoped the cargo passengers got the message that they should get out soon and come find me.

Chapter 15: Vincent

Flagstaff, Arizona: the world's first international dark sky city, founded in 1882, elevation 6,906 feet. We had reached civilization at last! We left our belongings in the truck to avoid looking like homeless people, but we would get them later after we found Collins. The Arizona main street city of Flagstaff was surrounded by snowcapped mountains. The temperature was cooler here than it felt in Walnut Cherryville but not cold enough for snow to reach the ground. We walked along Route 66, which led us downtown by historic Hotel Monte Vista. Johnny asked a man on the sidewalk for directions to the nearest gentleman's club, and he directed us to one down the street from Hotel Monte Vista. We assumed this would be the one that Collins went to, but who knows, since he wasn't very specific.

* * *

I knew exactly where we were because my parents took me here one summer for my eleventh birthday. Back then, my favorite movie series was Back to the Future; so for my birthday, I asked my parents for a hoverboard, thinking that it actually existed because Michael J. Fox used it in Back to the Future parts two and three. My parents always knew I had high hopes and expectations for technology that didn't exist, so they told me that NASA invented it and used it in space, so it should be out for sale in ten years. Since the hoverboard was not for sale to regular people (only Michael J. Fox and NASA employees), we stayed in Hotel Monte Vista, room 216, where Michael J. Fox stayed. I felt honored to be staying in the same room that the rider of the hoverboard slept in.

During our stay, my family and I visited the Wupatki Ruins located outside the city of Flagstaff in the surrounding desert. The ancient people left pueblos made of thin, flat blocks of red sandstone that are now ruins preserved in the desert. When I was a kid, I couldn't imagine how the ancient people lived with limited technology. It made me thankful that I lived in a time where the things I saw in Back to the Future could actually exist. Those were good times.

* * *

I remembered Flagstaff was roughly two hours and twenty minutes north of Phoenix, which meant we were fairly close to home.

"We're two hours and twenty minutes away from Phoenix," I said. "After we get Collins, we could probably find someone to hitch a ride with that's heading in that direction."

"Or even the bus," Laura suggested.

"I don't see how we're going to do either of those things without any money," Johnny added. "Most people won't pick up hitchhikers, but we can try."

Johnny opened the door to the gentleman's club, and we walked into the dark room lit by strobe lights. Club music played as ladies of all different ages, shapes, and sizes danced around in giant birdcages, wearing only sparkly pasties, a thong, and high heels. People crowded around the cages, slipping dollar bills between the bars. There was also a group of women pole dancing on stage.

I scanned the crowd for Collins and waved him down. He excused himself from the table, but the other truck driver hardly noticed because he was being motor-boated by one of the strippers. Collins stumbled over to the front door, looking all sorts of crazy.

"Hey, guys, this place is great," Collins shouted over the loud music.

I could smell alcohol on his breath. "Have you been drinking?"

"Hell, yeah," Collins shouted as he started dancing. "We should all hang out here for a while. This place is off the hook!"

"I'd rather not," Veronica said. "Collins, I don't think it's the best idea for you to be drinking at this time. We have to get out of here."

"Come on, Veronica, don't be a fun sucker!"

"How did you get the liquor?" Johnny asked.

"There are dollar bills flying all over the place around here," Collins explained. "The birdcages are overflowing, so I grabbed two handfuls, and there's nothing those ladies could do about it because they're trapped in a cage! Isn't that awesome? I stole money from a stripper so I could get the truck driver to buy me alcohol and a lap dance!"

"Well, that's mean," Laura said. "She's working hard for that money. She's probably a single mother with two kids at home that she has to feed. You shouldn't steal money from her; she really needs it."

"Laura," Collins said as he pointed. "Don't ruin this for me by making me think about her girly problems. I don't want to care."

"Give her the money back, asshole!"

"No," I interrupted. "Keep the money because we could use it to get home. How much do you have left?"

As Collins counted the money, I caught Laura giving me a pouty face.

I stood next to her and held her hand behind our backs, so no one could see. "I'm sorry, but I promised you that we'd get home safely, so you could find yourself again," I whispered in her ear while looking at the stage. "Don't get upset with me for condoning Collins stealing from a stripper; it was an act of desperation that already happened. By the way, you look really cute when you're angry, and I want to kiss you again."

"Vincent, we can't; I don't want them to know," she whispered back.

"You're right; some things are better left as secrets."

"I have twenty-six dollars left," Collins announced.

"That's it?" Johnny laughed.

"The ladies and the booze are expensive, you know."

"All right, everybody split up, get as much money as you can, and meet back by the door in five minutes," Johnny said.

I saw a red lit-up sign pointing to the restrooms on the right side of the stage. "Follow me," I said, leading Laura through the crowded tables to the men's room. We walked into a stall, locked the door, and let our feelings take advantage of us. I pressed myself up against her curvaceous body, pinning her hands to the door as I kissed her supple lips. She wrapped her leg around me, pulling me in closer. The danger of kissing a girl with HIV made me excited. I wanted her to look at me with that pouty face as I got kinky with her. I wanted her to hurt me, but she didn't want to tear my skin. She was afraid that I would catch the infection, but in the moment I couldn't care less. I bit her neck, but she forcefully pushed me away, and I fell on the toilet, hitting my head against the toilet tank. I smiled as my vision came back into focus. She sat on my lap, pressing herself against my hard dick, but she wouldn't let me take her clothes off. She wiped my mouth with toilet paper to check for blood.

"Am I clean, Doctor?" I asked.

"I said no biting," Laura responded. "I don't want you to get sick. Thankfully, you didn't break my skin."

"I'm sorry," I said, putting on a puppy-dog face. "I just want to have fun with you."

She continued to kiss my lips as she pulled my hair and ground herself against me. All of a sudden, someone walked into the restroom, and she stopped.

"Vincent, are you in here?" Johnny called out.

Laura started giggling, so I covered her mouth.

"Yes, I'll be out in a minute," I said.

"OK, we're all ready to go when you are. Veronica is checking the ladies room for Laura," Johnny said before he left.

"Well, she isn't going to find me," Laura laughed.

"I don't want to go yet," I complained. "I want to stay here with you."

"We have to," she said as she got off me and unlocked the door. She fixed her hair in the mirror and washed her face before she left the restroom.

I waited two minutes before I walked out. On the way to the front door, I grabbed some money from the overflowing birdcages. I saw Collins going from table to table, drinking from unattended drinks. "Come on, Collins, we're leaving," I said as I pried the glass from his hand. He leaned on me as we walked out the front door.

"Ahh, the light!" Collins complained as he covered his eyes.

We walked down the street to the McDonald's and used the dollar bills we stole to buy ourselves a cheap lunch. Combined, we had enough dollar bills to call a cab to drive us to Phoenix. After lunch, we walked back to the truck to collect our stuff from the cargo container when we were caught by an unexpected visitor: a drunken, angry truck driver.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" the truck driver yelled.

Collins no longer had Darnell's sunglasses on his face.

"You're not Darnell! You tricked me so you could sneak citizens out of Walnut Cherryville!"

"I know. Wasn't it fun?" Collins asked excitedly. "I hope you had a great time; I know I did. Hit me up if you want to do it again sometime."

"Get your asses back in the truck now," he demanded. "I'm taking you back to Walnut Cherryville!"

"I don't think it's safe for you to operate machinery," Veronica said.

"Shut up, woman, and get back in the truck where you belong!"

"You can't make me!"

"Yeah, you're seriously outnumbered," Johnny added as he strapped his sleeping bag to his back.

"You either do it willingly, or I'll do it forcefully," the driver said as he pulled out his medical button. "There is no escaping from Walnut Cherryville! There are secret watchers in every city, and in a matter of a week, you'll find yourselves back in Walnut Cherryville anyway; so you might as well not fight me on it. Get back in the cargo container, walk all the way to the back and put your hands behind your head!"

"I'd rather take my chances," Veronica said.

The driver pressed his medical button. "The guards are on their way. Now that I've pressed my medical button, everyone, even the secret watchers, has been notified that something is wrong."

Whether the truck driver's threats were real or not, we were determined to find a way home. With the supplies on our backs, we hurried back into town and used a pay phone to call a cab. While I was in the bathroom having my way with Laura, Johnny was smart enough to tear a page of cab listings from the phonebook and hide it in his pocket. The man on the phone said it would be twenty minutes before a cab could arrive at our destination in Flagstaff. Laura and I sat on opposite ends of a bench next to the payphone, stealing the occasional glance from each other. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled when she caught me watching her. Suddenly, I realized that this might all end if we went home. If we went back to Sonoran Correctional, we would never be able to get this close again. The only time I would get to see her would be during my lunch hour, and she'd be trapped behind the fence, busy with other men that would pay to get a feel. I didn't want to compete with them. She might forget about me. How would I avoid losing another girl that I cared about?

* * *

Kat...It's sad what happened to her. Everyone blamed me for her death, but it wasn't really my fault. Kat was a prescription-drug addict. The harder it was to obtain the drug, the better she felt about abusing it. When she found out about my secret as the unofficial neighborhood watchman, I had no choice but to do anything she wanted, and she decided to use me to get her drugs. If she wasn't threatening to expose the secret of my life, I would have saved her. Instead, I let my secret die with her and never talked about it again until I told Laura...sort of. I tried to tell Laura, but letting her know the whole truth was too risky.

Doctors were wary about prescribing drugs to Kat, because they knew she was a drug addict. She faked her symptoms at her doctor's appointments, used her medications too fast, and constantly called for refills. Eventually, she was forced to go to rehab, but that didn't help. She quickly fell back into old habits. For four months, I faked medical conditions that I didn't have to protect my secret: ADHD, depression, sleeping problems, etc. Every week I saw a different doctor and got a different drug for Kat to abuse. The only problem was that when she died, she died in her bed holding a bottle of prescription sleeping pills with my name on it. Her parents blamed me for killing her by purposely giving drugs to a known recovering addict. I tried to lie and say that I didn't know she was an addict, but her stupid ex-boyfriend called me out on my lie and could prove that I did know. Right before she went to rehab, she sent a Facebook message to all her friends telling them what happened, where she'd be staying, and that she was sorry if her drug abuse hurt anybody. There was nothing more I could say to prove my innocence. Everyone thought I was guilty, even the police.

I spent a week behind bars, afraid of how my fate would unfold. I had a lot of time to think, cry, and blame myself for hurting someone I cared about. I should have refused to get her the drugs despite what rumors she was going to spread about me, but I'm not that noble. I was supposed to be taken to court to be tried for involuntary manslaughter, but thankfully my parents had friends in high places. They never told me what deal they made or who they had to pay off to get the charges dropped. At first, I felt relieved that I was free from legal consequences, but for some reason I could never get over Kat's death. My life was depressing, cowardly, and lonely, so in her honor, I decided to kill myself. I know I told the cameras, my parents, and my friends that I jumped off the roof for reasons concerning the stress of my parent's political campaign, but that was a lie.

* * *

"Where will the cab be taking us?" I asked.

"Back to school," Johnny answered. "That's the only safe place I can think of."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Isn't that where the Walnut Cherryville watchers expect us to go? They could be sitting there, waiting for us to arrive so they can take us back."

"He has a good point," Veronica added. "We should go somewhere that is unpredictable because it gives us a better opportunity of not being recaptured."

"Are our lives ever going to get back to normal. or are we constantly going to be living in fear of being recaptured?" Collins asked. "I thought if we escaped we would be able to go back home and live normally. If this wasn't going to be true, then someone should have told me."

"Honestly, Collins, I had no idea what was going to happen if we made it out," Johnny said. "I'm sorry. I know you desperately want to get back to your normal life, and I hope that we all can do that soon, but right now it's in everyone's best interests to not be recaptured."

"If we don't go back to school, then where are we going to go?" Laura asked.

"The truck driver said there are secret watchers in every city," I added. "Are there actually safe places we can go? How serious do you think he was about that?"

Everyone looked to Veronica, but she didn't have any information to offer. "There's no doubt that they're out there. If they weren't, then we wouldn't have been captured in the first place," Veronica said.

"But what should we do?" Laura insisted.

"If there are people trying to track us down, the best thing to do is to keep moving and not stay in one city for too long," Johnny said.

"So now we're convict nomads...great," Collins complained. "I don't see why it's not safe for us to go back to school. As long as we never leave the school grounds, nothing can happen to us. That school is on high security watch, and there are always a lot of people around. It's not like just anyone can enter the school because the fence blocks it from the streets, there are security cameras, and all visitors can't enter without administrator clearance. Sounds like a pretty safe place to me. I'd rather take my chances there than be on the run for the rest of my life. At least I will feel safe and be able to finish high school."

"But what happens when you graduate?" I asked. "Graduation is in two months. Where are you going to go then?"

"I'll figure that out when the time comes."

"Right now I feel very conflicted," Laura said. "It doesn't sound like one option is safer than the other."

"Why don't we split up, then?" I suggested. "We don't all have to go to the same place."

"I'm going back to school," Collins announced. "Anyone going with me?"

"I'm going with the nomadic method," I said.

"I don't belong to your school; I don't have American citizenship; if I go there, they might deport me back to Mexico. I think I will go with Vincent," Veronica said.

If Veronica travelled with us, then Laura and I wouldn't have any privacy. She couldn't come with us. "Like I said, we don't all have to go to the same place, even if you choose to be nomadic."

Veronica looked confused. "OK...Are you trying to tell me you don't want me to go with you?"

"I wasn't saying that...I'm just informing you that you can go anywhere you want. Johnny, wouldn't this be a great opportunity to backpack around the country? I know you said you wanted to do that."

"I would like to do that, but I think someone should go to school with Collins so there are two people that can watch out for each other. You know, in case something goes wrong," Johnny said.

"It's OK, Johnny," Collins said. "I'm a big boy; I can go to school by myself. I don't need no packed lunch."

Everyone laughed.

"Well, if you're sure. then I'm going to go backpacking. If anyone wants to come with me, that's cool as long as you're OK with roughing it caveman-style," Johnny said.

"What do you mean, caveman-style?" Laura asked."Camping in the woods, hunting for food, exploring the wilderness...going to a place where there are no roads or shopping malls."

"Ah...no thanks."

"Sounds good; I'll come with you," Veronica said.

"Yes, the wilderness is the best place to hide from immigration," I said.

"Vincent, can I talk to you in private?" Laura requested before she stood up and started walking away.

I followed a few steps behind her, watching as her hips swayed back and forth. She was so beautiful that she could even make a black, baggy Walnut Cherryville uniform look sexy. When she walked far enough away from the bench, she stopped and turned to face me.

"What the hell is going on with you? You're acting strange."

"Nothing," I said. I held her hands in mine for about a second before she pulled away.

"I want to let you know that this thing that we're doing is just casual companionship...if there is such a thing. I don't want you to get too emotionally or physically attached. Can you handle that?"

"Laura, I just want to spend time with you under any terms or conditions."

"Why? Don't you know that I'm dying?"

"That's just more of a reason we should be together."

"I'm afraid that if we spend too much time together, we might lose control over ourselves. I don't want you to get this disease."

"Laura, I'm not afraid of some silly disease, I—"

"Don't say that! This disease is a serious, life-threatening condition, and you should care more about avoiding it."

"I feel like we have something here, and I think we should explore it. I've started to have feelings for you that I can't explain. I've never cared this much about another person since my ex-girlfriend, Kat, died. Here's another truth for you...I was placed in the correctional school for being suicidal. I would rather die from your disease, loving you every day of my life, than to spend more time alone."

"Did you just say you love me?"

"Not that directly; I'm just saying that I have feelings for you, and maybe if we explore our feelings, we can eventually have a more romantic companionship. My point is...death doesn't scare me, so you shouldn't be afraid to do things with me."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that? What if we got into a relationship, had sex, and then broke up because we no longer had a romantic interest in each other? I would have ruined your life and your chances to be with someone else in the future. Once you have HIV, no one else will want you, and that would be my fault."

"I want you, and I don't care that you have HIV. Dying from HIV is better than jumping off a building and surviving from it. The worst type of suicide is one that doesn't work."

"What made you do it?"

"I lost someone that I cared about, and I don't want to let that happen again. Laura, please come with me. Don't go back to school with Collins or backpacking with Johnny and Veronica; come with me, and we'll find a way to make this work. I promise there will be a mall within walking distance of the motel because I know how much you love shopping."

Laura laughed. "Fine, I'll go with you."

We hugged, and I kissed her on the cheek.

"Yo, Romeo and Juliet, the cab is here," Collins shouted.

Laura and I walked over to the cab, placed our sleeping bags in the trunk, and squeezed into the crowded back seat with Johnny and Veronica.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked.

"Sonoran Correctional High School in Phoenix, please," Collins said.

"There will also be two other stops along the way, but we'll just let you know when we want to get out," I said.

The cab took off, and we left Flagstaff, a place where I had so many good memories. Laura leaned up against me and closed her eyes. Cheers to starting a new relationship and a new life!

Chapter 16: Collins

Sonoran Correctional High School in Phoenix was the last stop of the day. The others had said their goodbyes and left the taxi within the last hour to start their own adventures. I would miss them a lot, but I wasn't looking for adventure...just a normal life...well, as normal as a juvenile delinquent's life could possibly get.

I stepped out of the cab, handed the driver all the money I had left, and peered at the school from the sidewalk. The school was so good at keeping people out that I had no idea how I was supposed to get in. I'm sure the security cameras could see me standing here by the gate watching the school. I grabbed the bars and shook the gate door to see if it would open, but it didn't. The only way in was to climb over the gate, which should not have been difficult since I was very athletic. As I started to climb the gate, a loud siren sounded, and I felt like it was nearly scrambling my brain, but I didn't let that stop me from making it over the gate. Once I was at the top, I jumped down and landed on my feet in the grass. School security surrounded me and looked ready to whip me with paddles. If there were ever a real intruder, I hoped they would have something better than paddles that they could use to protect the students.

"Stop!" one of the security men shouted. "Don't take another step! You are intruding on private property, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Relax, I'm a student here," I said.

A woman security officer pulled out the pepper spray from her belt and pointed it at me.

I raised my hands over my head and stepped back until I bumped into the gate. "My name is Collins Greene, and I am a student at this school; could someone please talk to an administrator to verify this?"

"Schwartz, go inside and see if you can find an enrollment file for Collins Greene," she said. "Everyone else stay on guard."

After three minutes of uncomfortable waiting, Schwartz brought back the file and asked me some questions to verify my identity. They compared me to the picture they had on file and asked me to state and spell my name correctly, my age, and social security number. Since I answered all their questions correctly, they escorted me inside to the library. Not a soul walked down main hall or in the library while the school was on lockdown. Security made me sit in front of a computer as they huddled around me.

"See if the computer system knows who you are," she said.

I swiped my pointer finger along the fingerprint scanner on the keyboard. It automatically inserted my name and password into the system and logged me on.

"He's a student here; stand down," she said into a walkie-talkie. "Call off the lockdown." She motioned to me to stand up from the chair and follow her. "OK, Collins, we're going to the principal's office; the rest of you can return to what you were doing. I can take it from here."

As I walked down main hall behind the security officer, students began flooding out of the classrooms. When they saw that I was the reason the school went on lockdown, everyone started cheering, hooting, and applauding. They loved any distractions that interrupted classes. Members of the basketball team cheerfully bumped my side and slapped my back as I walked past their lockers. Main hall quickly went from silence to chaos in a matter of seconds.

"Excuse me, settle down folks, back to classes," the security officer shouted. "Who wants to go to Principal Brock's office? Get in my way, and you'll be coming with us."

The students settled down and backed away, clearing a path in the hallway that led to the principal's office. Once we reached the office, she left me alone to sit in the waiting room. Believe it or not, I had only been to the principal's office once before, and that was when I was first being enrolled in the school. I wasn't in trouble, I just had to fill out some papers, get my picture taken, and go through the enrollment process. Before I could be accepted into the correctional school, I was required to have an interview with Principal Brock. Unlike most other students here, I was never been sent to the principal's office because I was in trouble.

This would be my first time. I heard rumors...lots of rumors about how scary Principal Brock was when students were bad. Principal Brock was a hefty white man with an expensive suit, a blood-red tie and slicked-back, glossy brown hair. I heard that he was so fat because he ate newborn babies. I heard that his tie was red because he never washed the blood off it. I heard that his shoes were so shiny because he had his own personal shoeshine guy. I heard that his hair was so glossy because he used afterbirth to slick it back every morning. After taking a closer look, some students claimed they could see tints of red...that could have been afterbirth blood or his natural brownish-red hair color. All those rumors were bizarre and probably untrue, yet I was still a little afraid...you never knew.

"Collins, step into my office," Principal Brock said.

I walked into his office and took a seat on the couch.

Principal Brock closed the door and sat down on the couch across from me. "First, I want to say that I am very thankful that you're back. I will not punish you for being gone as long as you cooperate with our search in finding the other missing students and faculty member. As you are probably aware, Counselor Hank, Jonathan Cockit-Gilbertson, Vincent Henderson-Smith, and Laura Hansen have been missing for about a week. You were checked out of school with them at the same time, so the four of you could go to a late lunch with Counselor Hank. Do you have any idea where they might be now?"

I didn't know what to tell him. I couldn't tell him the truth because that would compromise Johnny, Vincent, and Laura and probably get Veronica deported back to Mexico. I felt bad about leaving Counselor Hank in Walnut Cherryville. We probably should have taken him with us, but he would have slowed us down. He was the most annoying and nagging counselor in this school, but he didn't deserve to be left behind. Maybe I should tell him that everyone was still in Walnut Cherryville. This way they might rescue the counselor and everyone would get what they want.

"We were abducted and taken to this place called Walnut Cherryville Village," I said. "The others provided a distraction so I could escape and find help."

"Where is Walnut Cherryville Village?"

"I don't really know. I think it's a remote factory village in the middle of a desert."

"What do you mean?"

"When we went out to lunch with the counselor, we were drugged and then thrown into a truck, which is where we were when the drugs wore off. We couldn't see where they were taking us, but we ended up in Walnut Cherryville. They made me be a janitor and clean things, and we each got assigned different jobs. It's a produce factory. I escaped by hiding in a produce truck while the others distracted the guards."

"Collins, are you being serious with me? This is no joking matter."

"Yes, I'm being totally serious. If this was just some plan to leave the school, then I wouldn't have come back. Everyone in Walnut Cherryville is in serious danger. There is this really crazy man there named Kenneth, who runs a reality television show called Chair Trials, where people get voted to die via electric chair. I was on the show, and I was so scared I was going to die!"

"Wait—so first we're talking about a produce factory, and now you're telling me you were on a reality show...Have you been feeling OK lately?"

"You don't believe me," I sighed in disappointment. "I can swear to you that I'm telling the truth."

"That's not necessary. How did you get from the produce factory to the reality show?"

"In this village, the reality show is produced by the government. and the contestants are people who have broken Walnut Cherryville laws. Chair Trials studios is part of the village, which is part of the produce factory."

Principal Brock scratched his head in confusion. "Collins, do you truly believe everything you're telling me right now, or are you just lying to me?"

"I believe every word because it's the truth. What's so hard to understand about this?"

"So now you're saying the government is involved? I'm going to be frank with you; your story keeps getting more and more unbelievable by the minute, and I think you really need some rest."

"Principal Brock, I know I'm telling the truth!"

"How can you be? Why would the government care so much about a couple of teenagers? Also, there is no such thing as a reality television show that's produced by the government. The government doesn't even use electric chairs to kill criminals anymore. You're either in desperate need of psychiatric help or telling me a load of crap." He signaled someone from outside his office to come in.

I turned around to look and saw two nurses walk through the door.

"Ladies, please take Collins Greene to the medical center. Give him a private room so he can rest for a few days. He will not be returning to classes until he is physically and psychologically healthy. Run all the tests you can, and I will send in a new counselor to talk to him."

Telling mostly truths did nothing but make the principal think I was a liar or crazy. I wished there was some way to prove to him that I told the truth. The nurses escorted me to a private room in the medical center with a label on the door that read "quarantine room three." Looked like I'd be staying here for a while. The room was equipped with a twin-sized bed, a laundry basket, a treadmill, a small television that hung from the ceiling, and a desk with a laptop computer by the window. Wow, these medical rooms were more decked out than students' actual rooms. Everyone usually shared the television, but here I got my own. Students only got to use computers in the library, but here I also got my own. This room was more spacious than the Walnut Cherryville room I shared with Johnny, so that was nice. The nurse explained to me that I wouldn't be leaving the medical center for at least a week or until all the testing was done, which meant that I couldn't go to the cafeteria, class, or the library. All my food would be brought to me, and I would be using separate facilities to shower and take a dump. Basically, like I read on the door, I was quarantined to the medical center until they decided to let me go. Unfortunately, this would cause me to miss another week of basketball practice. The nurses said that I could communicate with my teachers through email, so I could start catching up on the assignments I missed. I hoped it would not take long for people to realize that I was not crazy or lying about where I was. I missed playing basketball with my brothers.

I wondered what information I could find if I ran a search for Walnut Cherryville or Chair Trials on Google. I turned on the computer, swiped my finger across the finger print scanner to log on, and Googled the terms. Walnut acres homes for sale in Cherryville, Pennsylvania. Walnut acres apartments and homes for rent. Walnut Grove Baptist Church in Dallas, North Carolina. I searched through five pages of results finding nothing related to what I wanted before typing Chair Trials into the search engine. All that did was give me websites for people selling chairs, one law office hit, and a YouTube video of some idiot with a helmet rolling around in a chair before he crashed into a wall...mildly amusing.

The search was not very helpful, but I guess it made sense why I couldn't find anything. Walnut Cherryville was so private that they probably didn't have a website or much publicity. Most likely, the best evidence of its existence would be found in a grocery store that sold Walnut Cherryville produce. Even that might not be strong enough evidence to convince people that my story was true. Maybe it would be easier to forget about proving the truth and just tell them that I lied. If I continued with the Walnut Cherryville story, the nurses might keep me in quarantine for a long time, and that would defeat the purpose of escaping from Walnut Cherryville. If I lied, I would be punished for not cooperating, lying to the principal, and possibly an array of other reasons. Principal Brock would force me to tell him where the others were. He might kill me and place me in the fetal position inside a Dutch oven with some chicken broth, butter, white wine, carrots, onions, those tiny red potatoes, garlic cloves, salt, pepper, and fresh rosemary sprigs. Both options had their pitfalls...This was really frustrating. I thought things were going to get better if I came here, but right now that didn't seem to be true. If I lied, this might be the first time I got sent to the principal's office for being in trouble. I deserved to go many times before, but I always found a way out of it.

* * *

Back in the day, about two years ago, I used to be a prankster. One day while Johnny and I were eating lunch in the cafeteria because there was a dust storm outside, we noticed there was a new kid in school. He sat alone on the floor in the corner of the cafeteria with no lunch, looking like a depressed underfed vampire. His body was frail, his skin was pale, and he wore black skinny jeans with a leather jacket. I thought he was gay because he wore eyeliner, which is for girls. I ignored him at first and continued to enjoy my roast beef sandwich, but Johnny insisted that we introduce ourselves and invite him to sit with us.

"If he wanted company, he'd go and find it," I said.

"He's sitting alone because he's afraid of approaching people and being rejected," Johnny said. "I'm going to go over there and talk to him."

"Really," I complained. "He looks like the Grim Reaper's child."

"Come on, Collins," Johnny said as he got up from his chair.

We walked over to the new kid and sat down next to him.

"Hi, I'm Johnny, and this is Collins," Johnny said, "Welcome...What's your name?"

"Vincent," he said.

And that's the day Vincent joined the dynamic duo, which was now an unfortunate trio. It took me a while to get used to Vincent hanging around us because he was so different. He didn't like sports, girls, or food, which made it difficult for me to relate to him, so I got annoyed that he was hanging out with us all the time. He would always put a damper on a happy lunch by reading us his depressing love poems that he wrote. They were all about the same thing, a girl that died, which made me wonder why he had to write about it so many times. It got boring after a while, so I shared with him the poetry that I grew up with...Dr. Dre, Eminem, Snoop Dogg, and 50 Cent. Finally, we had a way we could relate to each other. I introduced him to rap music, and he liked a lot of it, and he introduced me to death metal, which gave me a headache. I even saw his father, the Grim Reaper, on the cover of several Children of Bodom albums.

Everyone got along fine for two weeks until we all attempted to pull off a prank on Principal Brock, which was my idea. Principal Brock always drank a Diet Pepsi with his lunch, so I thought it would be funny if we put Mentos in it. Johnny and I were the distraction. We pretended to start a fight with each other in the main hall, and Principal Brock rushed over to break it up. While he was lecturing us about how this school had a strict no-violence policy, Vincent put a Mentos in his soda and resealed it. I saw him leave the principal's office, which meant that he was finished doing his part.

The bell rang, and the hallway became crowded with students, so Principal Brock took us to his office to talk. He said that since it was our first fight, we'd each get a warning, but we weren't in trouble. When Johnny was forced by Principal Brock to explain what started the fight and he began making something up, Principal Brock unscrewed the cap to his Pepsi, and soda exploded in his face! Anyone who was around and saw it almost died from laughter, except Principal Brock. Little did I know that Vincent filmed the prank and uploaded it to YouTube, where it became viral within a week. I didn't tell him to film it...He decided that on his own. I didn't understand how it was possible to film it without getting noticed, but at the time I didn't realize that Vincent was a master of tiny devices and cameras. Eventually, I found out that he used a nanny camera hidden in a pen that saved the footage to a memory card, which he later uploaded to a computer in the library. Once the principal found out from another faculty member that there was a video of soda exploding in his face on YouTube, the library technicians were able to track down the user account that uploaded the video. All evidence pointed to Vincent, so he got in trouble while Johnny and I got off like we didn't take part in the prank at all.

Vincent was going to get all the punishment, and I was happy with that, since I didn't get any of it. Besides, the only reason why anyone got in trouble was because Vincent decided to film it, so it was entirely his fault. Vincent had no tangible evidence that the whole thing was my idea, so why should I suffer the consequences with him?

Vincent didn't see it that way. He thought we should all be punished with him because everyone took part in the prank. Johnny agreed with Vincent and wanted to be a tattletale, but he said he wouldn't tell unless everyone agreed to tell together. I didn't agree, so Vincent continued to spend his free time in detention, which lasted for a month. I never knew what type of punishment detention entailed...Vincent never talked about it. He was mad at me and avoided me for a long time after that. I'd like to think by now that he had gotten over it, but sometimes I didn't believe he had.

Chapter 17: Johnny

The best way to avoid being recaptured by Walnut Cherryville was to go somewhere unexpected. If there were secret watchers in every city, we wouldn't go to the city and we would stay in the wilderness. After walking for miles from the highway into the woodlands, Veronica and I found the perfect spot to build a shelter. The area was fairly dense with trees and plants, and I could hear a stream flowing nearby. Now that we found our shelter destination, we could take a quick rest before searching for the materials we needed to build it. I sat next to Veronica beneath a tree and closed my eyes to listen to the birds chirping a song from the canopy above. The air felt cool and was lightly scented with pine. All of a sudden, I smelled something salty and baked. Veronica had just opened a bag of Trail Mix.

"Want some?" she asked.

I grabbed a handful of Trail Mix, nibbled on a few blueberries we stole from the truck, and washed it down with a bottle of water. What types of shelter could we make with the limited materials that we stole from Walnut Cherryville? We had one knife, two sleeping bags, two pillows, matches, tweezers, instant soup, water purification tablets, a flashlight, batteries, a compass, a drawing of Walnut Cherryville, a book about how to survive in the desert, a first aid kit, sanitation wipes, plastic bags, water bottles, blueberries, and Trail Mix. The large piece of white sheeting, which I couldn't find, would have been useful in this situation. I could have made several different types of tepees or tents with that. Without the use of a thin material like a poncho, parachute, or sheeting, the only structure we could build with the tools we had was a lean-to. I could construct a lean-to with only a knife and all-natural materials like logs, vines, leaves, straw, and grass. This structure was not as closed in as a tent or tepee, but it would protect us from the elements. I found two thin trees that were about an inch apart, which we could use for the base. First, I would need several thin logs and vines to create and connect the bones of the structure...Wait—before I could get too far ahead of myself, I thought I should probably tell Veronica what I was planning.

"Veronica, I was thinking we should build a lean-to for our shelter because that's the best shelter we can make with just a knife," I said. "It's fairly open-air, but it would protect us from the elements as long as we make sure the back of the lean-to is facing the wind." I stood up and walked over to the two thin trees to demonstrate. "Based on the direction of the wind, we should build the lean-to in this direction. I will need several thin logs about nine feet long and an inch in diameter to use as beams, vines for securing the horizontal support to the trees, and other poles, saplings, or vines to crisscross the beams. Once the framework is done, we can cover it with brush, leaves, pine needles, and grass, but it's very important that you start from the bottom and work your way up. It's the same concept as shingling a house. Lastly, and I hope we have time to do all this before nightfall, we can place straw, leaves, and grass inside the shelter for extra cushioning before we rollout our sleeping bags on top of it. We also need to collect tinder, kindling, and fuel so we can make a fire tonight. Also, if we can manage to catch a meal of something more substantial than Trail Mix, blueberries, or instant soup that would keep us full longer and less tired—"

"Should I be writing this down?" Veronica interrupted.

"Bugs like ants, beetles, termites, and grubs, which are full of protein, can be found on rotting logs, making them an easy dinner. If you like burritos, I can grind up several different kinds of bugs into a paste and roll them up in a leaf—"

"The last time I checked, burritos were made from tortillas, beef, salsa, cheese, guacamole, rice, or beans," she said while I continued to ramble on.

"Tomorrow, I can complete the shelter by adding a fire reflector wall equipped with a drying rack. I will need to drive four sixty-inch-long stakes into the ground and stack green logs on top of one another between the support stakes. Next, I can form two rows of stacked logs to create an inner space within the wall that I will fill with dirt and bind the top of the support stakes with a vine, so the green logs and dirt stay in place...voilà! We have a fire reflector! The next thing we would need is a drying rack to dry clothes and meats, which is easy to make. All I need to do is lean one-inch-diameter poles against the lean-to support and on top of the fire reflector wall, tie it in place, and attach smaller sticks across the poles—"

"OK, slow down," Veronica shouted. "I get it! You're handy! I could hardly understand anything you said."

"Sorry, sometimes I talk fast when I'm excited."

Veronica sighed. "All this stuff we have to do is so mentally exhausting."

"It's OK if you don't understand everything we need to do right now. I can remember what needs to be done, keep us on track, and help you learn how to build the shelter."

"Well, we better start collecting materials now if we have any hope of finishing the shelter by tonight," Veronica said as she stood up. "Lead the way."

I found a small group of trees that looked about nine feet long and an inch in diameter, so I used the knife to cut them down while Veronica looked for vines.

"How do you know so much about survival?" she asked.

"I don't know if I should tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll think I'm silly," I said, looking up to see where she went.

She was a few feet away, unraveling vines from a large tree. "I promise not to laugh," she said.

"That's what she said before she laughed," I joked.

"Come on, we're like the only two people in this forest, and now you're worried about what other people think?"

I put the logs in a pile and gathered some dead grass, ferns, moss, and fungi to serve as tinder for the fire. "I was always fascinated by nature, so I would hang outside whenever I could. I went camping a few times, but that was more for enjoyment rather than learning purposes. At school, I fought to watch my favorite television show, Survivorman..."

* * *

Sonoran Correctional High School was no place to let my guard down; everywhere I stepped there were backstabbers, land mines, and cherry bombs waiting to be set off. Unlike the classrooms and main hall, where security kept a close eye on students, the dormitories were active warzones. Forty juvenile delinquents forced to share the same room, television, and shower facilities caused a lot of fights. I learned early on that if I wanted something for myself, I'd have to defend it.

Every Friday night at nine o'clock, a new episode of Survivorman aired on the Discovery Channel. Les Stroud became my new idol years after I no longer wanted to be a cowboy because he could survive in any environment with limited tools, which was truly amazing. The survival skills I knew now, I learned from watching Survivorman and by reading survival guides in my spare time. The only problem was that the television room was tough to defend at nine o'clock on Friday nights. Dan, the science fiction nerd, wanted to watch Fringe; Tom, the fairytale fantasy nerd, wanted to watch Grimm; and Lewis, the crime-show-junkie, wanted to watch CSI: New York.

There were four contenders and only one television. Every Friday night at eight thirty, I met my contenders in the television room prepared to fight. There was only one rule: once there was a clear winner, there were no rematches, and the winner got to watch his show with no interruptions until it was over. Besides obeying that one rule, everyone could fight as dirty as they wanted. Most of the time, Tom, known to be a chemical terrorist, would be the first contender to get knocked out. Lewis, known to be an underground wrestling champion, would punch Tom between the eyes before he could see it coming. At the same time, Lewis took on Dan, the man known to grow and sell the best weed, without any trouble.

While they were all busy fighting each other, I took the best approach to winning a fight where the odds were against me: ambush. I hid in the shadowy corners of the room where no one noticed me and waited until Lewis took out Dan and Tom before I ambushed him. At this point, I had a fifty-fifty chance at winning the television. My strength was nothing compared to Lewis's, so it was important that I catch him by surprise. My ambush strategy worked about 60 percent of the time; when it didn't work, it was because my opening blow wasn't crippling enough.

Usually, Lewis was my only challenge, but sometimes the other contenders would change the game. Tom was a sneaky bastard who often stole materials from the chemistry lab without getting caught. At the beginning of the fight, he'd set off a homemade smoke bomb, which hindered everyone's vision. Next, he'd creep around the dense fog, taking us out one by one. His most common trick was to sneak up behind each one of us and snuff us out with a chloroform-soaked rag. Luckily, he didn't always have the materials to pull off this trick every Friday. On the other hand, Dan was more of a bargainer; when he had weed available, he'd give it to us for free so he could watch his show sometimes. The four of us were the friendliest with one another when we were all high and watching Fringe.

* * *

"Ah, so is Survivorman like Chair Trials?" Veronica asked. "What is a Discovery Channel?"

"Survivorman is nothing like Chair Trials," I explained as I collected bugs from a dead log and put them in a plastic bag for safekeeping. "It's more of a documentary rather than a reality show, and no one dies. Before I answer your next question, I have one for you. What's your favorite TV show?"

"Chair Trials is the only show I've ever seen," Veronica said. "My family didn't have a television back in Mexico because we couldn't afford one. I never liked watching television because I was always forced to watch Chair Trials by the guards in Walnut Cherryville. I usually spent most of my leisure time reading books. My favorite books are To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, and Animal Farm."

It wasn't until nightfall that I realized the extent to which Veronica loved books. Once we were done collecting all the raw materials we needed, I built the shelter and the fire for the night. Veronica helped by covering the framework of the lean-to with brush, leaves, pine needles, and grass. She also made our mattress of straw, leaves, and grass that she put inside the shelter for extra cushioning. My body ached, I was dead tired, and I needed a rest before preparing dinner. I rolled my sleeping bag out over the mattress and lay down. Instead of rolling her sleeping bag out, Veronica unfolded hers because it was full of books. I listened to the soothing sound of crickets and hooting owls as I watched the book stack grow taller and taller.

"Wow, it looks like you stole half of Walnut Cherryville's library in your sleeping bag," I laughed.

"Well, I thought wherever we ended up, we could probably use some entertainment to relax our minds and de-stress."

"Good thinking. After I build the drying rack, I'll build you a bookshelf."

Veronica pulled out another book from her sleeping bag, but instead of putting it on top of the stack, she took a minute to glance at the cover. "This one's for you," she said as she handed me a book titled Lord of the Flies by William Golding. "I think you'll like it."

"What's it about?"

"During a raging war, a plane full of British schoolboys crashes on a deserted island, and they are forced to learn how to govern themselves because all the adults died in the crash. Two natural leaders with conflicting interests emerge: Ralph, a civilized boy who wants to create a miniature civilization on the island until they can be rescued, and Jack, a savage boy who is the leader of the hunters but longs for total power. That is all I'm going to tell you until you read the book."

"OK," I laughed. "I'll read it when I get time."

"It feels kind of misty out here. Is there any way we could keep the books from getting wet?"

"For now, we could put them in the plastic bags," I suggested. "When I make the bookshelf, we could use the plastic bags to cover the shelf, so they're protected from the rain. Speaking of rain, I should make a plastic covering that could hang from our lean-to, so whoever sleeps on the outer part doesn't get too wet."

"Are you sure that this shelter is enough to keep the animals out? Now that I'm hearing them, I'm a little afraid," she said.

"Don't worry, I'm not afraid. You can sleep on the inside, and I'll protect you if anything gets too close, but I'm not worried about that. The fire signals animals to keep away."

Veronica poured water into a tea cup and placed it by the fire.

"You brought a tea cup...another extra thing I didn't think of."

"I didn't think of it either until I was stealing the other items from the kitchen. I'm going to heat the water and then mix instant soup into it."

"You're not going to try my bug burritos?"

"I'd rather not. It doesn't sound very appetizing."

"Come on Veronica; they won't taste as bad as you think."

"Have you eaten them before?"

"I was going to eat them when I went camping, but the counselor wouldn't let me. He made me eat normal food," I complained. "What kind of camping experience is it if you can't even eat the local food?"

"I would hardly call bugs food."

"Bugs are a delicacy in Asian countries. You should try it."

Veronica shook her head in disagreement. "They may pass as good burritos in Asian countries, but they never would in Mexico."

"What will you eat when you run out of domestic food?"

"Well, I'm willing to eat plants and animals."

"We can't always rely on catching an animal for every meal, and your body won't be able to handle consuming much wild plants. Sometimes you're just going to have to eat whatever is easiest to catch. It's best if you try some of the bug burrito, so you can start getting used to the flavor." I sat up, crushed the bugs inside the plastic bag into a paste, and rolled it up inside two large leaves. I held it out to Veronica, but she wouldn't take it. "Here comes the choo-choo-train," I said, advancing the burrito toward her mouth. She moved away. "OK, what can I do to get you to eat this thing?"

"You have to try it first."

"Well played. I will try it first, and then you'll see that it's not that bad," I said before taking a bite of the burrito. As I chewed it up, I thought about what domestic food I could compare the flavor with. The texture was gritty, and the filling tasted sweet and zingy. I swallowed the food in my mouth and washed it down with some water. "It tastes like sweet and sour chicken wraps."

"I don't believe you," Veronica laughed as she poured the instant soup mix into the cup of hot water. "The look on your face when you ate it didn't tell me that it tasted that good. You're probably just saying that to trick me into eating it. Can I borrow the knife for a minute?"

"I didn't make a look on my face; I had a neutral face," I said, handing her the knife, "You weren't planning on eating it no matter what I told you it tasted like."

"That's probably true." She mixed her soup until the powder disappeared.

"Fine, don't eat it," I said as I wrapped mine up in a plastic bag, "I'll save it for tomorrow's breakfast."

"Ick," Veronica replied before she sipped her instant soup. "Ah, this soup is delicious...so much better than eating bugs."

"That's OK. I know one day you'll run out of instant soup, and you'll be hungry enough to try them."

Chapter 18: Laura

I never thought I would hear myself say this, but I was happy to be staying in the Cactus Motel. At a nightly rate of only twenty dollars, the Cactus Motel was the cheapest motel in the southwest. After we checked in, Vincent and I carried our sleeping bags up to our room on the second floor. Before my Walnut Cherryville experience, I never would have agreed to stay in anything less than a hotel, but now I had to take what I could get. I slid the key into the key hole, but it didn't fit. What kind of place still used actual keys that were noncomputerized? Oh, wait, I knew...a crappy motel! I flipped the key around and tried it again, but it still didn't open the door.

"I can do it," Vincent said, reaching for the key.

"No, I can get it," I said, shoving his hand away. I tried again...no go.

"You just have to jiggle it," he suggested.

I inserted the key in many different ways and jiggled the doorknob for ten minutes before the damn thing finally opened! I walked into the room and turned on the light. The cactus-patterned wallpaper was stained piss-yellow in many spots. The room was filled with many insect surprises, including spider webs on the walls, dead bugs on the green carpet, and roaches in the bathtub. The tub was discolored, especially around the drain area, and the toilet seat seemed to have scratches on it. I had to pee, so I covered the seat with five layers of rough toilet paper before I sat down. This was when I discovered that the toilet was wobbly, and the seat was about to separate from the hinges. As I went to wipe myself, Vincent opened the bathroom door, and I quickly closed my legs, looking startled. Luckily, I didn't lose my balance.

"Do you need something?" I asked.

"Just wanted to check and make sure you're all right," Vincent said.

"I'm OK," I said. "Now please close the door, and if you need something, please knock instead of barging in."

"Sorry," Vincent said as he closed the door.

When I finished my business, I flushed the toilet with a toilet paper square and exited the most disgusting bathroom I've ever seen. As I began washing my hands in the sink, I saw through the mirror that Vincent put our sleeping bags on the floor...where the dead bugs rested. He got naked and let his uniform drop to the floor...on to more dead bugs. He even left his tight black underwear on the floor...on still more bugs. Calm down, Laura...don't freak out...breathe. I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes again, I turned off the water and dried my hands on a white hand towel that surprisingly didn't have any stains on it.

Vincent pulled down the quilt and lay down. "Come to bed, honey," he said.

"Vincent, don't call me honey," I started. "Don't leave our sleeping bags and your clothes all over the dirty carpet, don't walk in on me in the bathroom, don't come to bed naked—"

"Whoa, take a breath, Laura, relax," Vincent interrupted. "There can't be this many rules already; we've only been in a relationship for about three hours."

"Casual companionship," I said, correcting him. I stood by the edge of the bed, glaring at the quilt with my arms folded. "You didn't check for bedbugs."

Vincent pushed off the quilt and looked around the sheet very quickly as if he was mocking me. "There, I checked for bedbugs. Come to bed."

I threw his underwear on the bed. "I am just as afraid of bedbugs as I am of garden snakes," I laughed.

"Hey, I'm not a garden snake!"

"Well, you ain't no anaconda," I continued to laugh while my eyes teared up. "Wow, I crack myself up."

Vincent put his tighty blackies back on and pulled up the quilt. "It's bigger than it looks...It's just cold. You can't judge it correctly until you use it."

"I see where you're going with that, and that's a no." I took off my uniform, folded it up with Vincent's, and put them in a drawer. I found the TV remote and threw it on the bed. "Do you want to watch TV?"

"I don't want to do anything with you because you insulted my manhood," Vincent said with his face buried in a pillow.

"Oh, stop it," I said, tugging the pillow. "Let go; it was only a little joke."

"See, you did it again!"

"The second one wasn't intentional," I said as I crawled into bed. When I turned on the television, it was on the local news station. I started searching the guide for something more entertaining to watch but stopped when I heard a special news report update mention that four high school students and a counselor were missing from Sonoran Correctional High School. I cancelled the guide to watch the story and tapped Vincent on the arm. "Vincent, get that pillow off your face and watch this."

"We have been updated that one of the students, Collins Greene, has been found," the reporter announced. "He showed up in a cab in front of the school a few hours ago and tried to climb over the school fence. Sonoran Correctional High School went on immediate lockdown until the student's identity was verified. Neither the principal nor the student was available for comment. The police are still searching for the remaining three missing students and the counselor."

The screen changed, showing four images in each corner: top left: Counselor Hank, top right: Vincent, bottom right: Johnny, and bottom left: me. "The students and Counselor Hank have been missing since last Friday, and they were last seen at the Phoenix Café on Cherry Street. If you have seen or know the whereabouts of any of these missing people, please call the number on the bottom of your screen or report them to the local police. In other news..."

"Ah, shit, Collins," Vincent said, "By this story being all over the news, he's led the secret Walnut Cherryville watchers right to his location."

"What happens if they find Collins?" I asked.

"They could torture him until he tells them where we are and then take us all back to Walnut Cherryville."

"Dammit, Collins, you've screwed up again!"

"When we leave this motel room, there will be a lot of people looking for us. We need to change our clothes and get something that's less noticeable. We don't want to attract a lot of attention."

"How much money do we have left?"

"I think we only have forty dollars."

"How are we supposed to each buy new clothes with only forty dollars?"

"It's called living on a budget, sweetie."

"Don't call me sweetie!"

"You're cute when you're angry," Vincent said as he wrapped his arms around me. "Come here." He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away.

"No, Vincent. There's no time for kisses right now! We have to focus."

"But there's always time for kisses," he whined.

"No kisses!"

"It's OK, don't worry. We've already established that I'll manage the finances."

"No, we split the money fifty-fifty."

"You don't know how to manage money because you're a woman."

Silence filled the room as I glared at Vincent. "What did you say?"

"You don't know how to manage money because you're a woman."

I grabbed my pillow and started slapping Vincent with it as hard as I could. He didn't try to block it or defend himself.

"Feel free to use your hands to slap me, scratch me, or choke me if you want," he said.

I stopped. "You like it when I hurt you...how odd."

"I never said that, but I did say that your ass looks fat in those panties."

"You bastard! How can you say I look fat when I work out three times a week? I even diet, control my portions, and deny myself—"

Vincent slapped my ass, and I suddenly stopped talking. Time to ditch the pillow and choke him to death. No one calls Laura fat! I smacked Vincent across the face, and he smiled. He pushed me down, rolled over on top, and started kissing me as he locked my hands against the headrest. "Distraction!" I yelled out.

"Do you normally yell out 'distraction' when you're about to make love?"

"We are not having sex. I told you that."

"You're right," he said as he got off me, "We're not having sex. We're making love."

"Same difference."

"Not the same thing, Laura, totally not the same thing."

"We have to stop getting distracted and start working things out. If we only have forty dollars and the room cost twenty dollars per night, we only have enough money for two more nights if we don't buy any clothes, food or transportation."

"Well, look who just learned how to manage money...you," he said as he pointed at me.

"You know what? I'm not even going to get mad because that's exactly what you want."

"I got a hardwood right now in case you do get mad and need somewhere to put your frustration."

"For the thousandth time...no sex. I don't want you to get sick. Can't we just talk and have a nice conversation for a while?"

"Yes. As long as you don't tell me about your diet, complain about your frustrations, or call my dick a garden snake, sure we can talk," Vincent said as he sat behind me and locked me up in his embrace.

"What's our plan? How are we going to make more money? What happens when our forty dollars runs out?"

"Well, I can't tell you that I have a long-term plan, but I know how we can save our money. We don't need transportation, because we each were born with two feet," he said before he kissed my neck. "We don't need to buy food because God blessed this world with soup kitchens and homeless people. We could walk over to the soup kitchen, eat a nice dinner, and then walk to the Salvation Army where we each can purchase a new outfit for probably ten dollars or less. As far as income, there are plenty of options, darling."

"Don't call me darling. We're not married, we're not in a relationship, we're just casual companions."

"If you say so, dear."

"Don't—"

"Don't call you dear; that's right, I remember. Anyway, for income, we could steal from strippers, become strippers, display our talents on the side of the road, so people will throw money at us as they drive or walk by—"

"That only works if you're a musician."

"Well, I'm sure we can come up with some kind of duet that will entice people to at least give us their spare change."

"Do you have any serious suggestions?" I asked.

"I think we should sing "Sick Love Song" together. That would be cool."

"But we don't have any instruments."

"Our voices are our instruments."

I laughed. "Are you seriously considering this? We could go to a home improvement store and wait in the parking lot with the illegal immigrants for some person to drive by and offer us a job. That will pay more."

"Are you good at running after trucks? Are you secretly skilled in housework like repairs or painting? Can you lift more than two pounds? I don't think so."

"Actually, I can! I run three times a week, I'm physically fit and healthy, and to your surprise, I can lift fifty pounds. Also, I know how to paint and do house cleaning. So what do you think? Shall we be house cleaners who sing duets together during work?"

"If that's what you want, I'll do it," Vincent said, "but I'd rather sing on the street and watch people throw money at us."

"Come on, let's go to the soup kitchen and get some food," I said, putting my uniform back on. I tossed Vincent his uniform.

Wait...Did I sound excited to go eat at the soup kitchen? Before my Walnut Cherryville experience, if someone were to say to me "come on, let's go eat at the soup kitchen," I would have been running in the other direction. Homeless people were disgusting bottom dwellers who fed off the rich by stealing what they couldn't earn themselves. I always hated the way they stood on the streets with signs that read "will work for food" and how they would dig through a public trash can after you threw food away. I even saw them sitting around shopping malls, holding their cups full of change and asking shoppers if they could spare a dime. And what happened next? Well, one dime turned into twenty dimes, which turned into enough dimes to buy a bottle of Jack. The homeless were always hungry, yet they never learned how to do anything but accept handouts. They conned people into thinking that if they gave them a dime, they would go buy food; in reality, they were just going to buy a bottle of whisky and get drunk on a park bench.

I had worked in a soup kitchen, but not by choice. December was Sonoran Correctional High School's community service month. All students were assigned seventy-two mandatory hours of community service, which I usually fulfilled on the weekends. Unfortunately, I didn't get to choose where I served my hours. Last December, they sent me to work in the soup kitchen, which was the last place I ever wanted to go because I despised homeless people. Even worse than that, I learned that they served all canned food and meat that was two days old. I guess that was the disgusting crap you got when it was free. In the morning, I was the designated can opener. I opened countless cans of fruits and vegetables with a manual can opener, which hurt my hands like a bitch. Later in the day around lunchtime, they'd put me on the serving line. Disgusting homeless men would ogle my body, wink at me, and try to ask me out on a date. I pretended to smile, told them I already had a boyfriend, and served them their food.

My supervisor was a superbitch; so if I caused any trouble, she'd give me a bad evaluation, which would mean that all the hours I served wouldn't count. If I had any incomplete hours by the end of December, I would have had to serve them at a different site in January. Luckily, I didn't have to do that. I was able to keep my cool long enough for my supervisor to give me a full seventy-two hours of good evaluations.

The thing I hated the most about soup kitchens was the fact that employees and homeless people constantly tried to hit on me. At night, when the soup kitchen closed, I was on clean-up duty with a few other volunteers. I did what I knew how to do best: wash dishes. There was nothing like helping people who didn't really need to be helped...It was their own fault. After my community service experience, why would I think to step foot in a soup kitchen ever again? I wasn't a homeless person, just a missing person who currently resided in a motel. I wasn't desperate enough to eat at the soup kitchen.

"Actually, Vincent, I've changed my mind," I said as we stood in front of the Santa Maria Soup Kitchen. I gazed at the long line of homeless people that started at the door and wrapped around the parking lot. "I saw a McDonald's a block back; could we go there instead?"

"Typical woman...always changing her mind. Why would we spend money on food if we could get it for free?" Vincent asked.

"Oh, please, don't tell me that men never change their minds. It's not that much money. You can get a whole meal for only ninety-nine cents."

"All right, well, if that's how you want to spend our money, baby, we'll do that."

"Don't call me baby."

"I know. I'm just messing with you."

Chapter 19: Collins

8:00 a.m.

Was it that time already? I smacked the snooze button, snuggled my pillow, and went back to sleep.

8:05 a.m.

The alarm rang louder than it did the first time...shhh! I was trying to sleep. I smacked the snooze button again, snuggled my pillow, and went back to sleep.

8:10 a.m.

Alarm clock was smashed on the floor for being disruptive and annoying. Now, because of a pesky alarm clock, I was finally awake. I grabbed the black permanent marker from the desk and drew another notch on the wall next to my bed. Today marked the seventh day I'd been stuck in quarantine, since I decided to continue telling the truth about Walnut Cherryville to my new counselor.

8:15 a.m.

I left my room to buy a snack from the vending machine in the hall. I inserted my last dollar bill into the machine and pressed E6 for strawberry Pop-Tarts, but for some reason the damn machine decided to give me cherry. I was tired of this machine never giving me what I wanted! Yesterday, it gave me a banana walnut muffin instead of a blueberry muffin...What was up with that? Despite the mix-up, I went back to my room and ate the cherry Pop-Tarts in two minutes flat. Wow, the cherry ones were delicious.

8:25 a.m.

I listened to rap music on Pandora while running on the treadmill. Had to stay in shape for the basketball team...assuming that I would get to play again sometime soon. This was the time of day that I most believed I should stop telling the truth about Walnut Cherryville. My only problem with telling a lie to Counselor Moleski and Principal Brock was that I didn't know how I would be punished. What if they decided to suspend me from the basketball team? They would think that my friends and I did something to harm Counselor Hank, ran away, and lied about it. How would that affect my permanent record that I had worked so hard to keep clean? Even worse, would it prevent me from getting into college? I couldn't decide whether it was better to be a liar or a lunatic. For the past six days, I choose lunatic, but that didn't mean I'd choose that today. It was all a matter of when I would reach my breaking point. When would I fold and give up on the truth?

9:25 a.m.

I gathered a fresh pair of boxers, basketball shorts, and a white T-shirt into a bag in between gulping down a bottle of water. I headed over to the quarantine locker room and took a shower with some strange body soap that smelled like mangos. Why would they put this kind of soap in a man's locker room? Smelled like it was for women, and it made me lose my manly musk!

10:00 a.m.

I ate breakfast by myself in the quarantine dining room. Well, I wasn't totally by myself. There were five other quarantine students in the room, but we were not allowed to share tables, and everyone was sitting really far away from each other. The nurses handed everyone a tray of two scrambled eggs, two strips of premade bacon, a slice of wheat toast, and a side of mixed fruit with orange juice to drink. I just got food, but some of the other students got crazy pills, or what I assumed were crazy pills. They were served in tiny paper cups by the nurses who watched the students swallow the pills. The nurses then checked their mouths to make sure that the students didn't just hide the pills under their tongues. I wondered if that would be me in a few days. What did they prescribe to people who were delusional? Would it have harmful side effects because I was not actually delusional? Would they still keep me in quarantine even after I took their crazy pills? I wished Johnny was here. He could help me decide better what to do. I shouldn't have been so proud...I shouldn't have told him that I didn't need a packed lunch. Now I was on my own, and I had to make a decision...a decision that would determine the fate of the rest of my life.

11:00 a.m.

Maybe I just needed to clear my head and forget about the tough choice I'd have to make at my 1:00 p.m. appointment with Counselor Moleski. I checked my email and saw that many of my teachers had sent me new assignments to work on. OK...changing gears...I was no longer going to think about Walnut Cherryville for the next two hours. Instead, I would concentrate on completing this chemical equation worksheet that I missed in chemistry class.

As I worked quietly, a lined yellow piece of folded paper slid beneath my bedroom door. Curious, I got up to see what it was. When I unfolded it, I saw a series of stick-figure drawings with the sun and trees in the background. The sun was always in a different place in every frame as if it was revolving around the four stick people, who appeared to be walking in a line. As the story progressed, the ground split apart, revealing a fiery pit in the earth. The last frame showed the stick people falling into the fiery pit.

These were the same exact images I saw on the courthouse in Walnut Cherryville! Who drew this? Who gave this to me? I crumpled the paper in anger, opened the door, and peered down every corridor near my room. There was no one in sight. I even checked the bathroom, which was empty. I didn't know what the importance of this drawing was or why I kept seeing it, but it must mean that a Walnut Cherryville secret watcher knew that I was here. To deliver this note, they must have been in the school somewhere spying on me...great, like I really need more bad news!

1:00 p.m.

Counselor Moleski began a consultation in my room. When he walked in, he took a seat on my desk chair, turned to face me, and rested his clipboard on his lap. I sat on the bed, frazzled about the stick-figure drawings.

"Good afternoon, Collins," he said. "How are you doing today?"

"Eh."

"You look worried about something. What's troubling you?"

I felt as if I shouldn't be talking to Counselor Moleski. Something about him seemed off. Whenever I talked, his facial expression never changed, and he wasn't very personable. He reminded me of a robot. As far as I knew, there were only two people in this school who knew about Walnut Cherryville: Counselor Moleski and Principal Brock. Could one of them be a secret watcher? Did they already know about Walnut Cherryville before I told them about it? How come I'd never seen Counselor Moleski in school before? He might not even be a real counselor.

"Oh well, just being stuck in quarantine when I want to get back to classes and basketball. You know, the usual. How much longer do you think I'll be staying in here?"

"I don't know. That all depends on you."

"We've talked for six days. What do you think of me so far?"

"Well, I think you're a very ambitious student who is eager to get back to class, and I would like to help you do that, but you seem somewhat disoriented."

"Does that mean you think I'm lying?"

"I haven't made that decision yet, but let's not focus on what I think. We need to be talking about what you think."

"I don't know what else to tell you. I keep feeling like I'm repeating myself at every consultation."

"Don't focus so much on formulating answers and being right or wrong. Say whatever is on your mind. This is a safe space."

"I'm kind of shy when it comes to talking to people I don't know. Maybe I might feel more comfortable talking to you if I knew more about you. I'm only used to talking to Counselor Hank about my problems. Do you mind telling me a little about yourself?"

"Sure, I will if it makes you more comfortable. I was born and raised in Phoenix. I'm divorced with no children. I am a doctor of developmental psychology and have been in practice for over twenty years. Hmm...I started working at Sonoran Correctional High School last year as a counselor."

His answers were vague. He could be lying, but there wasn't really a clear way for me to tell.

"It sounds like you trust Counselor Hank a lot. Do you miss him?" Moleski asked.

"He was annoying but easy to talk to," I responded. "I miss all my friends."

"Do you think they are all safe right now?"

"I hope so, but I don't know."

"Do you or your friends have any known enemies that you think are trying to hurt you?"

"I think there is someone, but I don't know who they are. That's the only possible reason I could think of as to why we all were drugged at the café and then abducted."

"Has anyone tried to contact you since you've been back at school?"

"No. No one talks to me unless I talk to them first. I mostly just talk to you, my teachers, and the nurses. What's the real reason why I need to be in quarantine?"

"Principal Brock just wants to make sure you're healthy physically and mentally. This is not punishment, even though it might feel like that. Personally, I'd rather be living in a quarantine room than one of the giant dorm rooms with forty guys stuffed in it. It's important to this school that all its students and faculty are safe, and we really need your help in finding the remaining missing people. Your health and your help are the only reasons why you're here."

"I've told you everything I know, but I still feel like no one believes me."

"If you and your friends did something against school rules, it's OK. The sooner we find out where everyone is, the sooner your life can get back to normal."

"But that's what you don't understand. Counselor Hank invited us all out to a late lunch. He signed us out of school and got approval, so we all left with him. He took us out to lunch because he wanted to talk to us about our futures and discuss our options for after graduation. My friends and I had no plans to leave the school and not come back."

"Look, Collins, I believe you. I believe that you didn't leave intentionally, but I don't understand why you can't tell me where your friends are."

"I told you they're in Walnut Cherryville!" I shouted. "I tell you that every day."

"Calm down, Collins, there's no need to get upset. We're just having a discussion; this is not an argument. I did some research on Walnut Cherryville, and I don't see that a produce factory exists under that name."

"Did you look in the grocery store like I asked you to?"

"Yes, we found produce from Walnut Cherryville Farms located in California. The police checked it out, and we did not find your friends or any other suspicious activity."

"That doesn't sound like the right place. We weren't on a farm."

"The police don't have any other leads to follow. Are there any noticeable landmarks you could describe that you saw in Walnut Cherryville?"

"Walnut Cherryville is surrounded by desert. There is a skyscraper made entirely out of glass, a courthouse made out of clay with stick-figure drawings on the outside, and a building that looks like a giant cheese grater. Somehow, and I don't know why, there is also a forest that grows mangos."

Silence filled the room as he jotted some notes down on his clipboard.

Wait...How could I have not noticed this before? He had lined yellow paper attached to his clipboard! It was Counselor Moleski who slipped the drawings under my door. He's the secret watcher! While I was panicking in my head, I somehow managed to keep a straight face in front of Moleski. I squeezed the crumpled drawing in one hand and the edge of my pillow in the other to relieve my frustration momentarily. I totally pegged him to be the secret watcher until another yellow paper slid under the door as we sat together. Well, if Moleski was in here, then who was out there sliding the second yellow paper under the door? I bolted up from my bed, rushed to the door, and opened it. The corridors were busy with nurses...What if it was one of the nurses?

"Collins, are you OK? Is there something wrong?" Moleski asked.

I picked up the paper and unfolded it, and it was blank! "Someone just slid this under my door."

"And that urged you to jump up and leave the consultation so you could look in the hall? Why is that piece of paper important?"

"Because I want to see who did it."

"Why does it matter who did it if the paper was blank?"

"OK, fine, you got me," I said, handing him the crumpled yellow paper. "I'm freaking out because someone slid this paper under my door a few hours ago."

Moleski flattened it out and looked at it. "I don't understand. What is this?"

"Those are the stick-figure drawings on the courthouse in Walnut Cherryville. I'm afraid that someone from there knows that I'm here, and they're taunting me, so I rushed to look out in the hall to see if I could spot who did it. How many people in this school use that yellow notepad?"

"Well, pretty much all the faculty members use this notepad. It's free supplies from the school."

"Dammit! Well, that doesn't narrow it down any."

"OK, I can see that this is making you feel unsafe and nervous. Can you explain to me why someone from that place knowing that you're here in school is a problem?"

"They're here to take me back to Walnut Cherryville. I wasn't supposed to escape, and the truck driver told me that there are secret watchers in every city that are watching me and waiting to bring me back. I'm scared and about to shit my bricks! If you really want to help me, make sure they don't get me."

"Collins, I don't think you need to be concerned about someone taking you away. There are security cameras all over the school, and the only people who can get in or out are faculty and students with supervision. It would be difficult for someone to steal you without being seen. Now, I want you to take a deep breath—"

A tranquilizer dart shot into Counselor Moleski's neck from an unknown direction. His body became limp within seconds and fell out of the chair. I gasped and ran out the door as quickly as I could, into the hallway crowded with nurses.

"Excuse me, no running through the halls," a nurse shouted.

"Someone get that man under control!"

I had no idea where I was going. I was just running and shoving nurses out of the way. All of a sudden, a hot, sexy red-headed woman with a bangin' body grabbed my arm and pulled me toward her before she jammed a syringe into my neck.

"This will only sting for a second," she whispered.

As the injection filtered through my body, my limbs became numb, and I quickly lost strength. I struggled to keep my eyes open, even though I was highly motivated to get another look at that redhead's rack. Fight it, Collins, you can do it for...boobs. My body fell to the floor, and hot-boobs nurse caught me. She laid me down carefully, but I was already asleep before I got another chance to see her boobs.

2:15 p.m.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself sitting on a cloud...in a diaper...with a giant, rainbow-swirled lollipop in my hand. I was a baby with a grown man's voice, sitting on my cloud enjoying my lollipop. It was all good up in the hood until a white baby with black eyeliner came on my turf and licked my lollipop. "Hell, no, you did not just lick my lollipop!" I said.

The Goth baby snatched my lollipop and began a game of tug-of-war. There was a struggle, but I heroically won the battle and smacked Goth baby with my lollipop until his face turned into a rainbow, and he fell off the cloud. I watched as he plummeted to earth and splattered rainbows all over the street. When I looked back up into the clouds, I saw a female baby snuggling a plush toy panda. She was giving me the "I want you" look, so I invited her over to my cloud, and we shared my lollipop.

4:00 p.m.

When I woke up for real, I was attached to a polygraph machine and was tied to a chair. It looked like I was in a partially furnished parking garage, but there were no cars parked in it except a Walnut Cherryville produce truck. Dammit...They got me! Hot-boobs nurse walked out of the truck with Darnell's truck driver friend.

"OK, Collins, here's the deal," Hot-boobs nurse said, "I've injected you with truth serum, so you're going to tell me where your friends are. If you lie, the polygraph machine will catch your mistake." She sat on the table next to the polygraph machine, clamped my jaw in her hand, and turned my head to face her. "You don't want to lie to me, Collins. You won't like what happens when you lie to me."

"You're hot," I said. "In my mind, I call you hot-boobs nurse. How long have you been working in my school?"

Hot-boobs nurse hopped off the table and slapped me across the face. "We'll start with some easy questions first. Are you eighteen?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where Johnny, Vincent, Laura, and Veronica are located?"

"Yes."

"Tell me where Johnny is right now."

"Tonto National Forest."

"What?" she questioned as she peered over at the truck driver.

"Don't look at me; I don't know what he means," truck driver said.

"Are you lying to me, Collins?" she asked.

"No."

Hot-boobs nurse glanced at the polygraph machine. "Well, it looks like he's telling the truth, but still that answer is kind of odd. Where in the forest is Johnny located?"

"I don't know."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

The needle on the polygraph machine still kept a normal rhythm. Hot-boobs nurse wrote down some notes on her lined yellow notepad. "Where is Veronica?"

"With Johnny."

"Where is Laura?"

"Cave Creek, Arizona."

"Where in Cave Creek is she located?"

"She and Vincent talked about getting a motel together."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No."

"I think we've distinguished that he isn't lying to you," the truck driver said.

"Are you sure that Vincent is with Laura?" she asked.

"Yes."

"OK, disconnect him and throw him in the cargo container," she ordered.

The truck driver tied a blindfold to my face before he untied me from the chair and escorted me into the cargo container. I heard the sliding door closing.

"Wait, I have something to say," I said.

The door stopped closing. "Hot-boobs nurse: your boobs are really hot, like your hair. Do you have a boyfriend? If you do, I don't care. I still want to bump nasties."

"What is wrong with teenage boys these days?" she said sarcastically.

"I don't know," the truck driver responded as he closed and locked the door.

Chapter 20: Johnny

I was really enjoying life in the wilderness, but I could sense that Veronica wanted to leave. After seven days of what she called roughing it, she still had not learned to live in nature. Every daily activity presented new challenges that she had to learn to overcome with my help. I enjoyed Veronica's company, and I liked teaching her about survival, but helping her get over her fears was difficult because she was afraid of practically everything. She didn't see the natural world as I saw it because her mind was still stuck in the modern, materialistic world that we escaped from. To be able to appreciate everything that nature had to offer, she needed to stop living in the past and accept that fact that nothing she knew about life would apply here. In order to survive, she needed to learn how to live differently and be more patient and wary of her surroundings.

Obstacle #1: living on the schedule of the sun.

One of the difficult parts about living in nature was that you never really knew what time it was or how long the sun would be out every day. Our days were busy because we only had from sunrise to sundown to make a fire, hunt, gather, cook three meals, collect water for the day, bathe, build tools, and make repairs on the shelter when needed. With only limited hours of sunlight, we couldn't afford to waste much time resting and doing unproductive activities, like reading a book during the day. This was tough for Veronica because she used to read during her breaks when she worked in Walnut Cherryville. Reading was how she made it through the day.

A few days ago, I asked Veronica to collect firewood while I hunted for breakfast. In the time that it took me to find bird eggs, climb a tree, and bring the eggs back safely to camp, Veronica had barely collected any firewood because reading books on her breaks caused her to lose track of time. I hated to be the one to tell her that she shouldn't get caught up in a book until all her work was done, but I was the only other person here, so I had to do it. She understood my reasoning when we ate breakfast for dinner that night because the fire wasn't ready in time.

I woke up as soon as I felt the sun kiss my face and wasted no time on sleeping in. Veronica, on the other hand, had a difficult time waking up because she spent most of the night reading with a flashlight. She couldn't seem to live without a clock telling her when to go to sleep. Every morning I had to wake her up, and she whined and groaned about how tired she was and that she needed more sleep. At night, we hung out together by the fire, talked, ate, and read books before bed. I usually fell asleep before Veronica, and she stayed up reading. I didn't mind her reading at night after I fell asleep, but she needed to be a better judge of how much sleep she needed and when to put the book down. Maybe I could encourage her to go to sleep when I did so she wouldn't be so tired in the morning and so unproductive during the day.

Obstacle #2: navigation and the buddy system.

Since Veronica didn't know how to track and navigate locations in the woods, we had created the buddy system. The buddy system only had one rule: your partner must be within shouting distance of you, so if Veronica started to get lost, she could find her way back to me by following my voice. Veronica was slowly learning how to get to places, like from camp to the stream and back to camp, so she could get fresh water on her own, but she still needed the buddy system for gathering plants. Sometimes the buddy system was a little invasive. Veronica couldn't do her personal business while I was around, and shouting distance didn't give us much separation.

Obstacle #3: learning new skills and responsibilities.

Veronica and I regressed our lifestyle back to the hunter-gatherer ways, which was the way people lived in the Stone Age. As the woman of the lean-to, Veronica was responsible for collecting fire materials, water, and plants. On the second day, I gave Veronica a tour of the forest and showed her what kinds of materials she should be collecting for fire and food. For the fire, she most commonly collected dry, dead grass for tinder; small twigs for kindling; and dry, dead branches for fuel. After she brought back the materials, we made the fire together, so she could eventually learn how to make it on her own.

Teaching her about plants was more difficult, since I was not that good at identifying plants. I knew the basic ones she should avoid, like poison ivy and poison oak, but I couldn't recognize every poisonous plant in the forest. All I knew was that we should avoid eating all mushrooms and mostly collect plants that looked like they were eaten by other animals. So far, Veronica hadn't collected anything poisonous, so my advice must have been working for her. As the man of the lean-to, I hunted, cooked, made tools, and repaired the lean-to when needed. Sometimes, I had enough time to make advances to the lean-to, like adding a spit to the kitchen and a bookshelf to the bedroom. Yesterday, I made a fishing net out of vines and branches, which worked well for catching sizable fish.

Obstacle #4: getting used to new foods.

The wilderness was full of delectable food sources that were fresh and unprocessed. On the third day, we ran out of instant soup and trail mix, so Veronica had to start eating wild food. Bug burritos were her least favorite food. In fact, she wouldn't even touch them. I eventually got her to try one, and she spit it out after the first bite. She said she didn't like them, but I think it was all in her head. She already had a bad opinion about them from the beginning, so she wasn't going to change her mind even after she tasted them. Bugs were not a delicacy where she came from, so she didn't want to eat them here, either. Her favorite foods were roasted bird, smoked fish, and boiled eggs because they had a good flavor and resembled foods she was used to eating. She watched me cook the food and let me know when she thought it was done. Sometimes we argued about when the meat should be taken off the heat. I didn't want to ruin the flavor by overcooking it, and she was worried about eating contaminated or undercooked meat. I told her to stop being such a worrywart because everything was going to be fine! When it came to fresh meat, I was up for butchering anything. I cooked squirrels, rabbits, snakes, frogs, birds, fish, and eggs and enjoyed every bite of them. My knife was my best friend, and it never left my side.

Obstacle #5: giving up personal hygiene.

This wasn't really an obstacle for me, but it was for Veronica. We recently discovered a pond about a mile from camp, which I used for bathing and swimming for fun. Veronica was afraid of going into the pond because she didn't know how to swim, so she would sit on the side and read her book while I took a bath. Out of all the challenges Veronica had to face, giving up personal hygiene was the most difficult one to cope with. Out here, there was no such thing as clear water, soap, toothbrushes, or toothpaste...not even toilet paper. Sometimes I caught Veronica trying to use the sanitation wipes to clean her hands, and I had to remind her that those were only for medical emergencies. She considered not being able to wash her hands a medical emergency. I usually just cleaned everything in the pond and only used the sanitation wipes for cuts and scrapes.

Obstacle #6: living in the elements.

By living outside, we were constantly exposed to sun, rain, and wind. Veronica said she planned on getting a shower the next time it rained, but who knew when that would be. I was fairer-skinned than Veronica, so I got burned instead of tanned. I kept covered during the day unless I was swimming, but I still managed to look like roast mutton because we didn't have any sunblock. Veronica had a nice tan. She wanted me to build her a banana hammock so she could sun herself while she read books. So far, the wind in this neck of the woods wasn't that rough. I just didn't like the cold windy mornings that made my nose run. If I could, I'd bury my head in my sleeping bag, but then I wouldn't know when I needed to get up for work in the morning.

I hoped Veronica didn't want to leave quite yet. I'd put so much work into building our home, and I was not ready to leave. This pond was so refreshing. I floated in the water, looking up at the trees.

"It's hot today," Veronica said as she fanned herself with her book.

"It's much cooler in the water," I said.

Veronica sighed. "I don't know how to swim...What if I drown?"

"I'll teach you how to swim," I said before I swam over to her. "Don't worry, I've got you."

Veronica folded down the corner of the page, closed the book, and thought about it for a minute. "OK," she said, smiling. She stood up, peeled off her uniform, and slowly began to walk into the water.

"Careful," I said, holding out my hand to her. "It could be slippery."

She held my hand firmly for support until her feet couldn't touch the bottom anymore. With her arms wrapped around me, I carried her deeper into the pond.

"When I take my hand out from under your legs, I want you to straighten them out for me, OK?" I said.

She nodded, squinting her eyes.

"Don't be afraid; I'm still supporting your back, and I'm not going to let go," I said as I removed my hand from beneath her legs. "We're going to start by floating."

When she stretched out her body and she seemed buoyant on the surface, I released my hand from her back gently, so she wouldn't notice.

"You're right, it does feel much cooler in the water...so refreshing," she said.

I floated next to her and held her hand, which caused her to turn her head and lose her balance.

"Hey, you're supposed to be holding me up!" she shouted, splashing around in the water. "I'm drowning!"

As soon as I held her in my arms again, she calmed down. "I'm sorry. You were doing so well on your own, it didn't seem like you needed my help."

"I want to try again."

I supported her back as she got into floating position. "Now, lightly kick your feet." I walked, holding her back as she floated and kicked in shallow waters. She was doing a good job, so I stopped and taught her how to rotate her arms to complete the backstroke. At first, she was afraid to swim on her own, but after attempting the backstroke a few times, she swam it perfectly, and I was proud of her. We were having so much fun that we both lost track of time.

"Were you still planning on looking for herbs to add to dinner tonight?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, I totally forgot. I should start looking for those," she said as she sat up and faced me. "Thanks for the swimming lessons." She gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek.

I blushed and felt butterflies flutter in my stomach. "You're welcome," I said, acting coy. "Maybe we could come back and learn freestyle tomorrow?"

"I'd like that," she said as she headed out of the pond. "Are you coming out now?"

"Not yet. I'm going to stay a few more minutes."

"OK. I will look around here for herbs," she said as she wrung out her long hair and slipped back into her uniform.

"Don't wander too far. I'm going to call out for you shortly to make sure I can locate where you are." After what felt like five minutes of swimming, I called out to Veronica. "Veronica, can you hear my voice?"

"Yes," she shouted.

I continued swimming. A little while later, I called out again. "Veronica, can you hear my voice?" She didn't answer. I got out of the pond and gazed into the nearby trees. "Veronica, can you hear my voice?" She still didn't answer. I quickly got dressed and began to examine the ground for footprints. I tracked her steps and found her passed out on the ground, holding a half-eaten red berry in her hand. She must have sampled something poisonous, but I couldn't detect what it was just by looking at it. I kneeled down beside her and checked inside her mouth to see if she swallowed it already. The berry stained her tongue, but neither her tongue nor her throat looked swollen, so I didn't think she had an allergic reaction. She was still breathing...faintly. Since I couldn't find the berry in her mouth, I assumed she swallowed it, so I tried to induce vomiting by tickling her throat, but that didn't work. I couldn't even get her to wake up.

"Veronica, if you can hear me, I'm going to get you to a hospital," I said as I picked her up. "Don't worry; you're going to be OK." She better be OK, otherwise I'd never forgive myself for letting her live out here with me. I should have known it would be too risky. After all that she had done to help me escape from Walnut Cherryville, I couldn't let her die. My eyes watered just thinking about the possibility of death, but I held back my tears. Men didn't cry when things got serious, they remained tough and stood strong. I carried her in my arms as I walked a mile, retracing our steps back to camp. Even though she felt like she couldn't have weighed more than 115 pounds, she felt heavy in my arms. I was used to lifting 150 pounds because I lifted weights in gym class, but I wasn't used to hiking with weight on rough terrain.

Once I reached camp, I knew how to get back to the highway. The only problem was that it was a long walk, and I didn't know if she could hold out that long, but what else was I supposed to do? Despite how badly my body ached, I continued to push myself to go faster. Come on, Johnny, you can do it...Veronica is depending on you to save her! I rushed to the highway as quickly and carefully as I could. When I reached the road, my aching back was finally relieved. I stood her up on her feet, leaned her against me, and supported her with one arm while I waved down a passing car with the other.

A bright blue car passed us and pulled over on the side of the road a few feet away. A middle-aged man got out of the car and ran over to me.

"Please, help me," I said, flustered and out of breath. "My friend needs a hospital."

"I know where there's a hospital around here. Get in the car," the man said as he took Veronica and put her in the back seat. I sat next to the driver, and we took off. "What's wrong with your friend?"

"I think she ate a poisonous berry. She passed out."

"You kids look like you've been outside in the sun for a long time. She might be dehydrated. I saw you come out of the woods. What were you doing there?"

"Camping."

"Do your parents know where you are?"

Parents...My biological father was dead, my biological mother was in prison, and my stepparents thought I was at school, unless Principal Brock told them I was missing. Veronica didn't have any family here because she was an illegal immigrant. Besides her brother, who was a loyal slave to Walnut Cherryville, all her family died trying to cross the border. We were just two lone wolves living in the woods, which would be difficult to explain to an outsider.

"Yes, they know we were camping," I lied.

"Here, take my cellphone," he said as he grabbed his cellphone out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Call them. Tell them to meet you at Rock Springs Hospital. Do you know her parents' number?"

"No, I don't. I'll just call mine, and they'll tell hers." I pretended to dial a number. "Mom, this is Johnny." I paused for dramatic effect. "I'm all right, but Veronica passed out. I think she ate something poisonous." I assumed that if I were really taking to my adopted mom, she would freak out, so I paused again for dramatic effect. "Can you get Veronica's parents and meet us at Rock Springs Hospital? OK, thanks, see you soon. Love you, goodbye." I hung up and gave the phone back to the man. I hoped that was believable. Do normal boys tell their moms they love them? I don't know. I remember telling my biological mother that I loved her, but I never told my adopted mother that I loved her.

When we arrived at the hospital, the man drove up to the emergency entrance and got out of the car. A group of EMTs were exiting the building. "Quick, I need your help," he said as he opened the passenger's door. "This girl passed out from eating a poisonous berry!" The EMTs got her out of the car and strapped her to a stretcher.

"Thanks for helping me," I said as I got out of the car.

"Are you sure you will be OK? Do you want me to stay with you until your parents get here?"

"No, I'm OK. You don't have to stay because I'm just going to sit in the waiting room and wait. Thanks for your help." I ran into the hospital, chasing after the EMTs who rolled Veronica down the hall. They rolled her into a room and closed the door on me.

"Sorry, sir, you're not allowed in the room until she's stable," a nurse with red hair said. "You may wait in the waiting room, which is down the hall and to the left."

No, I don't want to wait in the waiting room! I want to see what's going on! I sat anxiously in the waiting room, annoyed that I couldn't be with Veronica during this crucial time. Even the littlest update in either direction could make me feel like there was hope for Veronica or prepare me for something worse. Anything was better than me sitting in a waiting room oblivious to what was happening with Veronica's health.

* * *

The same thing happened when Grandpa Cockit was admitted to the hospital after he was shot. The hospital made us wait hours in the waiting room without giving my family any updates about how he was doing in surgery. He was pronounced dead at 8:53 p.m. on May 28, 2001. Since I was only seven years old at the time, my parents didn't disclose the details about who shot him or why. They wouldn't even let me hear about the details of the surgery. I don't remember how old Grandpa was exactly, but I think he was fifty-something when he died. He was a fun guy that lived in a camper, traveled around the country, and slept in parking lots. He was a man with no address, and when people asked where he was from, he'd say, "I'm from nowhere" to a fellow man, or "I'm from wherever you want me to be from, hunnie," to a lady. I only got to see him once a year. I'm not sure why he didn't visit us more often. Dad said he didn't visit more often because he was too busy chasing after "tail," but I didn't know what dad meant until years after Grandpa passed. I would have liked to spend more time with Grandpa before he died.

Every Memorial Day, Grandpa Cockit and his newest lady friend came to visit the family, and we'd all go to the park. I almost felt like Memorial Day was the only day of the year that my biological mother and father actually got along and didn't bicker. When Grandpa Cockit visited, he brought more than cheer and joy to our trailer; he also brought a dead deer for the holiday feast and brought me a gift wrapped in race car wrapping paper. The day before Memorial Day, Dad and Grandpa butchered the meat into ground deer, deer steaks, and deer chunks. Mom marinated the steaks and chunks and formed patties out of the ground meat.

The next morning, we packed up the prepared meat in an ice chest with some cold beers, soda, coleslaw, and potato salad before we drove over to the park. Grandpa, Dad, and I played Frisbee and shot each other with water guns while Mom and the lady friend tanned under the sun. Later in the day, my parents grilled venison backstrap, burgers, and steaks. Venison backstrap was one of my favorites because the chunks were twice-marinated in apple cider and hickory barbeque sauce, wrapped in bacon, and then grilled. It was a Cockit family recipe.

We ate dinner at a picnic table while we listened to Grandpa tell us stories about his adventures with his Road Runner camper. He said he even drove the Road Runner through the Rocky Mountains, which I thought was so cool. After dinner, we all played drinking games with cards and beer, but I had to drink soda because Dad said that I was not allowed to drink beer until I was thirteen. Grandpa Cockit got shot during a game of asshole. I couldn't see where the bullet came from or who shot it, because I was distracted by the game. After Memorial Day, 2001, we never revisited that park again.

* * *

"Johnny," a doctor called out.

"Yes," I said as I stood up.

"Follow me." The doctor escorted me through the hall until we got to Veronica's room. "Veronica is stable now, and her vitals are normal. She woke up after the gastric suction."

"The what?"

"Her stomach was pumped to get the poison out. You may go in and visit her."

"Thanks," I said as I opened the door and walked into her room. The bed was empty. Veronica was nowhere to be found in that room. "Where is she?"

"She should be in her room resting," the doctor said.

"Actually, I saw her wandering around the hall," the nurse with red hair interjected. "I think she was looking for someone or something. I don't know because I don't speak Spanish."

"Nurse, make sure the patient finds her way back to her room immediately."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse said before she turned to me. "Do you want to help me look for her?"

"Sure." I followed the nurse through the hallways, looking for Veronica until we reached an exit door that led outside. Anxious to find Veronica, I stepped in front of the nurse and went outside first, where I saw a Walnut Cherryville produce truck waiting for me. Before I could turn around or even think about running away, the nurse shot a tranquilizer dart into my neck. My eyelids became heavy, and my muscles quickly weakened. The nurse caught me right before I collapsed on the pavement, and the last image I saw was her red hair

Chapter 21: Vincent

I'm not a runner. I don't jog, I don't exercise, and I don't like hamster wheels. If Laura knew me better, she'd know that I was not going to run after trucks for work, especially trucks loaded with illegal immigrants who were constantly pushing other people off the trucks to prevent those people from stealing their job opportunity. Behind those silky, smooth, sexy legs were a pair of thunder thighs that could burst from zero to sixty in less than fifty seconds. She ran after trucks like a cheetah chasing a gazelle. Three trucks drove by the Home Depot parking lot looking for cheap workers for random jobs, and she ran like hell to catch up to them because the trucks didn't sit in the parking lot for more than a second.

So here was how it worked: the trucks would slowly drive by the flock of illegals, and the driver would signal to the flock how many Mexicans he needed for the job. Because the truck drivers were impatient or afraid of being caught by the police, they started to speed up, and the flock would chase after the truck until the right number of workers hopped in the back. Now, I could have been wrong, but the act of the driver speeding up could have also served the purpose of weeding out the weak and lazy. The strongest people ran at the top of the pack, hopped in the back effortlessly, and effectively defended their territory until the chase was over. The amount of effort an illegal put into the chase showed the driver how hard they were willing to work, or at least that was what old man Paco said.

Paco and I stood on the sidelines watching the chase as we philosophized what the chase said about someone's character. Paco was eighty years old, and he still loved watching people chase trucks for amusement.

Paco pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. "You see that young white lady? The one at the top of the pack."

"Yeah, I see her. She's my girlfriend," I said.

"She's fast," Paco lit his cigarette and began to smoke. "Want a smoke?"

I picked a clean cigarette from the box, and he lit me up. We watched Laura chase the truck and latch on. The driver needed five workers and four had already secured their space in the back. Laura was running against four men who ran just as fast as she did.

"She has great agility but not much physical strength," Paco said. "She tries hard but seems unprepared and unplanned."

"Yep, that's Laura."

"She'll never have even the slightest chance of making it onto that truck because she's a loner. She isn't working with the other people; she's working against them."

Two of the four workers in back of the truck reached their hand out to a fellow man. Laura tried to reach for the helping hand and shout at the people in the truck to get their attention. I couldn't hear what she said, but I could pick out her voice from the crowd.

"How come they're not helping her?" I asked.

"She's a stranger who is not part of su familia. To be successful at truck hopping, a sport where there are so many competitors, you have to be friendly with people you don't know and find a way to be a part of su familia. I've seen people prepare to truck hop for months before they actually do it. You spend time getting to know a strong familia, so when it's time to hop truck, the other members work with you and make sure that you get pulled into the truck over someone like Laura. Why are you people truck hopping anyway?"

"We're looking for work."

"She's looking for work," Paco replied. "You're just standing here, smoking a cigarette, and talking to an old man about the art of truck hopping."

"True, but wouldn't you say that I could be more successful at the sport than Laura because I actually took the time to talk to an expert?"

A fifth man got pulled onto the truck, and they closed the tailgate. Laura stopped running and started to walk back over to me.

"Yeah, you could say that, but just talking to me isn't going to do you much good. You got to convince them, the people who actually play, to let you into their familia. I've stopped running years ago. I just like to watch now."

"Why did you come back to watch? Did you not find a job?" I asked.

"Several years ago, mi familia immigrated to the United States looking for work. The man who helped us cross the border brought us to this parking lot. He told mi familia that if we didn't have a connection to someone who already worked in the United States, it would be difficult to find work. Mi familia learned to truck hop because we were first generation immigrants, and we didn't have any professional connections, so this was our best option. One day, a few years ago, un camión de producción de nueces y cerezas stopped at this parking lot." Paco's eyes started to tear, so he stopped speaking for a moment to lower his head.

"Paco, what's wrong?" I asked, "What did you say stopped at this parking lot? I don't understand."

"The driver of the produce truck got out of the truck, lined us up, and tested us. He asked mi familia and many others to lift crates of cerezas...you know, tiny, red fruit. The English word I don't remember. He forced those that could lift the crate to get on the truck. Half mi familia desapareció and I never saw them again. Mi familia didn't want to listen to the truck driver. We tightly held each other's hands and refused the man's work unless he took us all with him. He became angry and impatient, so he shot my cousin and forced those that he selected to get on the truck and leave the rest of mi familia behind. I don't watch truck hopping because I'm amused by it. I'm looking for the truck that stole mi familia so I can be reunited with them again."

"What makes you think the produce truck will come back again?"

"Faith...It has to come back. It's my only chance."

Hmm...produce truck with tiny, red fruits. "Was the fruit a cherry?"

"Yes, that's the one!"

"Vincent, you were supposed to be running with me," Laura said out of breath.

"I told you I don't run."

"You have to. How else are we going to find work?"

"Actually, I have a better idea. We should go work the customers inside, where there is less competition."

"Ah, there you go!" Paco said. "Now the wheels are turning!"

"Thanks for the smoke, Paco," I said as I dropped the cigarette on the ground and smashed it. "I hope you find your family soon. Come on, Laura, let's go inside." I held her hand, and we casually walked into Home Depot like a newlywed couple.

"So what is your plan?" Laura asked.

"Better than yours," I said as I scanned the aisles for someone who looked like they needed help.

"That remark doesn't make any sense in response to my question. Stop fooling around when I'm trying to be serious."

I stopped in my tracks, turned around, and held Laura's hands in mine. "I'm sorry," I said, looking her straight in the eyes. She shot me a slight smile before I gave her a peck on the lips and continued walking past the aisles. "We're looking for someone who looks like she needs help. When we find that person, we're going to talk her up and be friendly. Finally, we will offer her our help and services and see how much she's willing to pay for it."

"Sounds like a good plan as long as you know how to be friendly."

"Well, I got you to stay with me, didn't I?"

"Maybe you should let me do the talking," Laura suggested.

I spotted a middle-aged woman, who was alone, confused, and emotional...the perfect target. She stood in the paint aisle, crying in her black dress and high heels. Based on her pearl earrings, diamond necklace, and bracelet, she appeared to have a lot of money. Her cart was empty, and the paint rollers looked disorderly on the shelf and were scattered all over the floor...signs of frustration.

"Is that a Michael Kors Skorpios Crescent Hobo shoulder bag?" Laura asked. "Those are $895 handbags...I'd do anything just to wear it for a day. Doesn't the black, pleated Italian leather on the purse go beautifully with her Michael Kors Lace Inset Side-Slit Gown?"

Wow, Laura, that was a mouthful of gibberish. What did she say? Something about Italian leather and in-slit or side-set gown? I didn't know what any of that meant.

"Ah...I'd be her slave for a month just to wear that dress for a night. It cost $3,895, and it was made in Italy...I know because my mother wore one just like it. It's so lovely on this lady. Despite the fact that she looks like she's a young fifty, she has fine legs."

A girl commenting on how fine another girl's legs were was hot, but $3,895 was far too much to pay for any dress...unless it was made of pure gold and gemstones or it was equipped with the technology to change patterns digitally. That would be cool if Laura had a dress that changed patterns as frequently as New York City's billboards.

"Hey, Vincent, did you see her black Galli Suede Mary Jane Pumps? They're also by Michael Kors and are available in crimson suede, which I personally like better than the black. I was saving up for the crimson suede pair, which is only $195! I wanted to wear them to prom. Oh, I wonder if she'll let me try them on."

"OK, Laura, stop drooling over her crazy outfit, and let's go talk to her and see if she needs help," I said to calm Laura down from getting overexcited.

"Excuse me, miss, would you like some help?" Laura asked.

"There are so many choices in rollers and sizes; I don't know what to choose," the woman cried.

"Aww, don't cry," Laura said, while patting the woman on the back. "You're going to wet your dress." Laura grabbed a clean McDonald's napkin from her pocket and handed it to the fancy woman, who dried her eyes.

"What are you trying to paint?" I asked.

"My house...I don't understand why I feel so depressed. I won the house in the divorce settlement, but is there even a point in repainting it if no one is there to see it? What am I doing? This is so silly and ridiculous. I don't even know how to paint a wall," she laughed.

"We could help you," Laura said. "There is always a point in making something look beautiful."

"But now that I'm newly divorced, who's going to want to come to my house? Everyone I know is married, and all the neighbors are married. People don't like odd numbers at dinner parties. It's such a big house, and I'm just one person living alone."

"Well, after it's painted and redecorated, you could throw an open-house party and invite all your friends. Once they see how well you did after the divorce, they won't care that you're single and living alone; in fact, I bet you they'll all want a divorce. It will be fun, and they'll rant and rave about how much better your house looks than theirs."

"You're kind, but I don't know if I'm ready to see anyone right now. I'm such a mess."

"Don't worry," I interrupted. "You don't have to have a party or even leave the house if you don't want to. We can help you through this rough time and get you whatever you need."

"Yeah, kind of like your personal assistants who do housework, shopping, and painting," Laura added.

"Well, I would like a little company, and I could use some help with the house. It's just all so overwhelming. Would you be willing to work for twenty dollars an hour? That's twenty dollars each, of course."

"That sounds perfect," I said. Twenty dollars each an hour was far more than what I expected we were going to get. This lady must be desperate for help and super-rich.

"Now help me pick out some rollers and paint so the walls don't look so depressing," the woman said with a sense of relief.

Luckily, Laura knew a little about painting and had some experiencing painting walls, because I didn't know anything. I had never painted a wall, cleaned a bathroom, or washed laundry before. When I lived with my parents, we had a maid who would take care of all the housework. When something broke or a wall needed to be painted, we'd call a service. I never thought that there would be a day in my life that I would be the service.

After Laura assisted Mrs. Putzer with her roller, brushes, and paint selections, she purchased the items for us, and we helped her pack the bags into the trunk of her sparkling-blue 2012 Porsche 911. Did she win the car in the divorce too? Who was this woman? What line of work was she in that made so much money? Laura and I settled into the back seats before Mrs. Putzer began the long drive back to her house.

"So what do you do for a living?" I asked.

"I'm the CEO of a very successful corporation."

"Wow, that's impressive," Laura said. "Where do you live?"

"I live in Phoenix."

"Vincent and I are from Phoenix, too. What part?"

"I live on Hillsdale Court."

Laura grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. She looked at me all worried and concerned. I thought she was afraid she would run into her parents, or she could even have been afraid of the neighbors. When she got caught prostituting, her reputation was ruined on this street.

"Ah, the famous Hillsdale Court," I said. "I've heard much about it."

The year Kat died was the year Hillsdale Court got put on the map. Anyone and everyone that lived in Arizona could tell you about the infamous street where the poor teenage girl died, but the fact that she died wasn't why Hillsdale Court was the street to talk about during your lunch hour. Kat's death attracted a lot of press coverage because how she died, why she died, and who killed her were such controversial issues. Some people in the neighborhood, like Kat's family, for example, said that I killed Kat, and they blabbered all that to the press. Others said that just because I shared my pills didn't mean I put them in her mouth and that she chose to overdose on her own. The obituary said that Kat died from organ failure. Those who believed that Kat didn't receive the justice she deserved for her death tried to get the police to investigate why I was relieved from my involuntary manslaughter sentence. The fact that I wasn't punished for my crimes created a lot of skepticism among the neighbors and caused problems with my mom's reelection for senator.

A lot of people thought it was fishy how I got off so easy. "There is something going on here that isn't right and not just," Kat's mother said in the Arizona Republic newspaper. "If he wasn't the son of two senators, he'd receive the correct punishment. Senator Henderson and Senator Smith are covering up the murder and are trying to convince people that it was entirely my daughter's fault." Shortly after the quote from Kat's mother was printed in the newspaper to clear up some of the looming speculations, a television interview with my mother and me aired on the local news. For the interview, I had to look like a normal boy who wouldn't cause any trouble. My hair was recolored blonde (my natural hair color) and was cut to look like a boy from prep school. My black, Gothic clothing was replaced with a more professional, innocent look: a collared shirt underneath a cardigan sweater and slacks. My parents even made me wear a tie...It was awful.

Reporter: Vincent, why did you give Kat the sleeping pills when you knew she had problems with drug abuse in the past?

Me: Kat went to rehab a while ago and was released because she was cured from her addiction. She said that she was having trouble falling asleep, so I offered to share some of my sleeping pills with her. It was an innocent mistake. I had no idea that she would overdose again.

Reporter: Why did you lie about not knowing that Kat was a drug addict?

Me: I meant to say that I didn't know that she was still a drug addict. I was so nervous because I was put under a lot of pressure, so I didn't say what I meant.

Reporter: Senator Henderson, did you have any involvement in reducing your son's sentence?

Mom: No, I did not. Vincent did not have any intentional involvement in Kat's death, so the charges were dropped after the investigation proved that Kat chose to overdose on her own.

This incident is a perfect example of how common drugs are being used incorrectly by teenagers, and it shows us that this is a serious problem for parents. I feel sorry that this happened to Kat because she and Vincent were good friends, and I know that Vincent would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. I send my respects out to Kat's family, and right now I'm working to pass Kat's bill. I'm hoping that Kat's bill will reduce the number of teenagers that die from misusing drugs by making these drugs less available in stores. Kat's bill will require all venues that sell sleeping pills, cough medicine, and alcohol products, like hand sanitizers, to sell only to customers who are twenty-one years of age or older and only in limited amounts. The cashier will be required to check the customer's identification at the point of purchase. This will reduce the availability of common drugs and products that teens misuse and promote parents to be more aware of the drugs their teens are taking. Studies show that teens abuse drugs less when their parents purchase the drug for them and supervise when they use it and how much they take.

Reporter: Vincent, I understand that everything that's happening right now with Kat's death and your mom's campaign must be really overwhelming for you, but what made you think about suicide?

Me: Due to Kat's death, I was emotionally in a dark place, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I was diagnosed with severe depression. Being the face of family values is already stressful enough along with school and trying to live a normal life. People are still accusing me of something I didn't do, but ultimately it was the stress of the campaign that pushed me over the edge.

Reporter: Senator Henderson, some people believe that Vincent's actions are a reflection of bad parenting; thus, they don't believe in the family values campaign. What do you have to say to those people?

Mom: As parents, my husband and I have decided to enroll Vincent in Sonoran Correctional High School, so he can start his recovery. We love our son very much, and I realize that his well-being is more important than his help in my campaign. Just because Vincent is not currently emotionally healthy, doesn't mean that our family doesn't have strong values or that we are bad parents. Vincent has been put under a lot of stress lately, and the doctor said that suicide is a normal response for a teenager put under that much pressure. We are very fortunate and thankful that Vincent is still alive. At the correctional school, he will be able to get the counseling he needs, a structured curriculum, and time away from the campaign. Sending Vincent away was one of the most difficult decisions my husband and I had to make, but we know that it's for the best.

Reporter: Vincent, is going to Sonoran Correctional High School what you want to do?

Me: Yes. My parents and I weighed out all our options, but it was up to me to decide, with their help, what was best for me. I chose to go to this school and leave my current life behind.

Ultimately, a public relations miracle, good press, lack of evidence, and time to heal got my mother reelected as senator that year. My public life was full of lies and half-truths. This was my last interview, and I was relieved that I didn't have to be a part of my parents' political life anymore or even part of the family.

* * *

"Where are you all from?" Mrs. Putzer asked.

"We live downtown," I said.

"So what brought you to a Home Depot that's so far away from home?" she asked.

I could ask you the same question. "We were traveling, and we decided to stop and walk around. By the way, I wanted to thank you again for giving us this opportunity. We really appreciate it."

"Oh, no problem, I should be thanking you. My house has been a wreck since the divorce, and out of all the things my ex-husband could possibly win in the settlement, he won the maid. Ironic...Good help that speaks English is difficult to find these days."

I had probably seen this woman before on my cameras, but why didn't I remember her? Mrs. Putzer turned on to the infamous Hillsdale Court, and Laura watched anxiously out the window as we passed each neighbor's house. All of a sudden, Mrs. Putzer began slowing down as Linda Burks, a neighbor of Laura's family, approached the car. If I remembered correctly, Linda's husband, Tom, slept with Laura.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Putzer, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not feeling so well. I think I need to use a restroom," Laura said.

"Is everything OK, dear?"

"Could we hurry?"

"Sure," Mrs. Putzer said as she waved at Linda and then drove on home.

When we arrived, we quickly got out of the car and rushed into Mrs. Putzer's house. Laura locked herself up in the bathroom, and I waited for her outside the door while Mrs. Putzer fixed us a drink. I could hear Laura crying through the door.

"Laura, what's going on?" I whispered through the door. "Talk to me."

"I can't be here. Everyone here will recognize us," she cried.

"Don't get upset. That will just make Mrs. Putzer suspicious."

"You don't think she remembers us? Maybe we should run away."

Mrs. Putzer walked up behind me with two glasses of ice-cold lemonade. "Would you like some mint lemonade? I made it myself from fresh-squeezed lemons from the juicer, fresh mint leaves, raw sugar, and vodka."

I took a glass. "Thank you."

"I hope you like it. Is she OK in there? Does she need any medicine?"

"I'm OK," Laura said as she walked out of the bathroom, looking refreshed. Mrs. Putzer handed her a glass of lemonade.

"As you enjoy your drinks, I would like to give you a tour of the house and show you what I was thinking about how we're going to paint the walls."

We followed her into the next room as we sipped our drinks.

"This is the dining room. Now I was thinking a bold color, something solid that will really make this room pop..."

When the women talked about fashion and design, all I heard was some gibberish language that I didn't understand, so I spent most of the time focusing on the hard lemonade. I drank it so fast that during the tour Mrs. Putzer gave us two more drink refills, which were delicious and addicting. The first refill was raspberry lemonade that used fresh raspberry puree mixed into lemon juice and, of course, lots of raw sugar and vodka. The second refill was a peach Long Island iced tea. This woman was amazing at making mixed drinks...or at least I thought she was. I didn't have much to compare her drinks to because I had never had fruity cocktails before...mostly just beer and cigarettes.

By the time the tour was over, Mrs. Putzer left us in the bedroom and asked us to do something that I don't remember before she disappeared somewhere that I don't remember. Laura and I couldn't stop laughing, and I had no idea what we were laughing about. Every time we looked at each other, we kept laughing as if everything about the world seemed funny and amusing.

"Look at that old dude in this picture," Laura pointed at the wall as she laughed. "I probably slept with him."

"He was probably her ex-husband," I joked.

Laura struggled to get her balance, so she leaned on me, but I was tipsy as well, so we both fell to the carpet.

"The people I used to...like how in the world did I ever get through that?" She laughed so hard that she couldn't catch her breath, and she began to snort or fart (I couldn't tell which one, but the suspense of not knowing made it even more hilarious).

My body felt tingly, and my hands were curious. "You're beautiful," I said, right before our lips met. As we kissed, we became liberated from our clothes. I was Christopher Columbus on a ship ready to explore the wonderland that lay before me. The crimson tide was high, and the sea was wet, but my men were able to dock the ship.

Chapter 22: Johnny

My head began to clear from the fog, and I could hear a rowdy audience chanting "kill them dead" as I opened my eyes to an empty, dark prison cell. I sat up, peered out the right side of the barred door, and saw a live audience enthusiastically watching an empty stage with six chairs. I could only assume that Walnut Cherryville had recaptured us, but I didn't clearly recall what happened. All I remembered was that I was in the hospital looking for Veronica with a nurse. Where was Veronica? Was she OK? I peered into the cell across from mine and saw Laura sleeping in a fancy dress. The majority of the cells were to the left of me, so I tried to look down the hall for Veronica, but I could barely see anything between the flickers of light from this obstructed view. All of a sudden, a guard walked by, escorting Veronica to the stage with her hands cuffed behind her back.

"Veronica," I shouted.

She looked at me...afraid. The guard forcefully pushed her down in the chair before he restrained her with a rope. We gazed at each other until another guard opened my cage and pulled me up to my feet. "Walk to the second chair," he said after he cuffed my hands behind my back. He escorted me across the stage, and the crowd went wild. Everyone was shouting at me, and I couldn't understand anything they were saying. The guard sat me down next to Veronica, tied me to the chair, and left to escort the next victim.

"I'm sorry," I said while looking out at the crowd.

"It's not entirely your fault," Veronica replied. "I convinced you to do it, too."

"Everyone wanted to leave, so we left."

"We took a chance, and it failed."

"The only thing left to do is say our goodbyes."

"And hope that God will spare our lives."

The guards tied Laura down to the chair next to me.

Veronica and I looked into each other's eyes. "I'm sorry for disappointing you and giving you false hope."

"I've always had faith in you. I knew that if there was anyone out there who could help me, it would be you." Veronica gave me a slight smile behind her tears.

"I'm going to die in a Michael Kors dress...My life is complete," Laura said.

"I'm sure you don't mean that," Veronica responded.

"Well, it was one of the things to do on my bucket list."

"I've never heard of someone making a bucket list before they graduated high school," I commented.

"You do when you have HIV and you might die before you turn thirty."

The guards dragged Vincent from the cages and strapped him into the chair next to Laura.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

"At least I got to think about and examine what I want out of life."

"I love you, Laura," Vincent announced.

Everyone sat quietly for a moment and listened to the roar of the audience.

"Please don't say that," Laura responded.

"Why? It's OK if you don't feel the same way. I was hoping that one day you would, but now that day will never come."

The guards brought Collins out of the cages and tied him into the last chair next to Vincent.

"It was nice knowing you all," Collins said. "I guess it's time for us to go our separate ways."

"No, it's not our last time seeing each other. I believe that we'll see each other in heaven," Veronica said.

The stage lights dimmed, and Jock Jams' "Are You Ready for This" began to play over the speakers. It was so dark without the stage lights, I couldn't see anything. All of a sudden, a stage light beamed brightly on the stage floor and revealed Kenneth Quinton, wearing a sleek black suit with white pinstripes over a white button-down shirt and glittery red tie. As he danced to the music, the crowd cheered him on, and the guards from backstage joined in as part of Kenneth's opening number. Watching the muscly guards perform cheerleading moves was rather amusing, but I was in no mood to laugh. I couldn't tell what kind of dance Kenneth was doing. It seemed like a varietal mix of popular dance moves throughout time blended together to form something that just looked like Kenneth gloating. At the end of the dance, the guards stacked on top of each other to form a flight of stairs that Kenneth climbed. He reached the top of the stairs during the last note of the song.

"Welcome, Walnut Cherryville citizens," Kenneth announced from the stair top. "I only have one question for you...Are you ready for the first-ever, live-studio-audience Chair Trials event?"

The crowd cheered and applauded like they were at a rock concert.

"Congratulations to all those who were accepted to participate in the audience tonight," Kenneth said as he walked down the staircase. Once he reached the bottom, the guards left the stage. "For those of you who are watching from the glass house, I'm sorry you couldn't make it, but I have good news for you. Chair Trials is going to be filmed before a live-studio audience for five consecutive days!"

The crowd roared.

"Yes, I knew you'd be excited. To be a part of the audience next time, please use ComCon to apply, and if you're accepted, you will receive an email containing your ticket to the live show. Tonight will be an exciting night that's full of surprises...This is no ordinary Chair Trials...This week will be an extraordinary Chair Trials!"

The crowd went wild.

"Can you feel the heat coming off this electric chair?"

"Yeah," the audience cheered.

"Now, tonight we're going to get to know our contestants and, as usual, vote for one to be killed in the electric chair, but tomorrow we're going to get a little more creative. We're going to have the contestants physically and mentally compete against each other through a series of games until there is only one contestant left. Instead of the electric chair, the last contestant will receive an old-fashioned community stoning where the live audience gets to participate!"

The audience roared with excitement.

"I mean, what better says that we have a strong sense of community than a good, old-fashioned stoning?"

Everyone clapped.

"Those that abandon my family, our family, this community, get sacrificed!"

"Kill them dead," the audience shouted.

"These people have wronged us," Kenneth preached as the spotlight shone on the five contestants. "They abandoned the family. They slapped us across the face and said 'hey, I don't care about you!', and they used their trickery to escape right under our noses! How do you all feel about that?"

"Kill them dead!"

"What should we do to them?"

"Kill them dead!"

"Then let's begin. Contestant number one, Veronica from food services, was charged with abandonment. Veronica, how long have you been with us?"

Veronica's eyes were glossy as she gazed out into the seemingly quiet audience. She looked nervous. "Cinco o seis años."

"I'm sorry, Veronica, but not everyone can understand you. I know you know English," Kenneth replied.

Veronica started crying and now couldn't formulate words in either English or Spanish.

"Come on, we don't have all day. Are you going to answer the question or what?"

Veronica shook her head but remained speechless.

"So you like waterworks? Guards, bring out the tank!"

The guards rolled in a glass tank that was large enough to have a pool party with at least six people. The tank was filled with water about a third of the way up. Two guards lifted Veronica's chair into the tank while another guard brought in a hose. The waterline reached Veronica's knees, and when they turned the hose on, it quickly rose.

"I told you that this Chair Trials would be full of surprises," Kenneth said. "Once you answer all my questions, we'll turn the water off, otherwise you'll drown. It's as simple as that. How long have you been with us?"

"Enough, stop torturing her," I blurted out. "Turn the water off!"

"Oh, don't worry, Johnny," Kenneth replied. "You'll get yours."

"Five or six years," Veronica said, forcing words out through her tears.

"See, that wasn't so hard. After all this community has done for you, why did you choose to abandon it?"

"You're a monster."

"I can make this water flow faster if you want. Now answer the question without making remarks about your future governor."

"What's the point? I told you my answer, and it's not good enough for you."

"Sounds like our first contestant is a little hostile," Kenneth joked, and the audience laughed. "That just means it's time to push the bar on the fun-o-meter! This is something new we added to Chair Trials that will allow the live audience to decide the fate of our contestants. Here's how it works: I will ask you a question with multiple-choice answers, and the live audience will respond using the keypads behind the chairs in front of their seats. Now, for the question: what should we add to Veronica's tank of water? A: Ice, B: Snakes, C: Sewage, or D: Cow's blood. Vote on your keypads now!"

"Sixty seconds," a robotic woman's voice announced through the speakers. As the countdown clock ticked, she announced how many seconds remained every ten seconds. It seemed like the votes were being cast through a computer system that collected them in an offstage room. "You have selected...Cow's Blood."

The water stopped flowing, but the hose still remained connected to the tank. About a minute later, the tank started filling up with cow's blood. Veronica peered down at the bloody water before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She mumbled something to herself.

"What are you saying, Veronica?" Kenneth asked.

"A prayer," she answered.

"That's silly to think that God will help you."

"There's nothing silly about God protecting his children. You may have stolen my life, ruined my family, and forced me to work for you, but I have one very important thing that you don't have...faith." The bloody water approached Veronica's shoulders. Even though she was almost completely submerged, she didn't seem frightened anymore.

"Don't be silly, child! If I wanted to drown you, there is nothing that God could do to stop me."

"God can do everything and anything he wants, and if he chooses not to save me, then that must mean he has other plans for me."

"Do you think you're going to heaven?" Kenneth asked as the water reached her chin.

Veronica tilted her head back and enjoyed her last few breaths of air. Right before her head became completely submerged, she held her breath and closed her eyes.

Watching Veronica drown and knowing that there was nothing I could do to save her was agonizing. My entire body was roped to the chair so tightly that turning my head was the widest range of movement I could make. I imagined bashing the glass in, but in my current situation that was not possible. I couldn't believe Kenneth was taking it this far. This was insane...The government must have been really angry with us.

"If you kill her now, what's the fun in that? It's too easy." I said. My friends turned their heads to give me confusing looks.

"What are you doing?" Laura whispered. "Don't promote him to torture her more than he already has!"

"I like the way you think, Johnny," Kenneth responded. "You're right; we should have more fun together before you leave." A guard handed Kenneth a baseball bat, and he took position to swing at the tank. After three practice tries and Veronica turning pale, Kenneth swung at the tank and broke the glass.

Veronica gasped for air as she swung her hair out of her face. The water rushed off the stage and flooded the audience, who screamed and panicked like Godzilla was crushing their town.

Godzilla magically appearing and crushing Walnut Cherryville would be a miracle. He could probably crush the whole thing with just one stomp.

Many of the women in the first five rows squatted on their seats to prevent getting cow's blood on their shoes.

What if they had picked snakes? Was Kenneth going to let snakes roam around the audience?

The audience now seemed more shocked than excited.

"Oh, come on," Kenneth said to the audience. "Don't be such sourpusses! It's just a little water. Ladies, put your feet on the floor!"

The ladies in the first five rows hesitated before they slowly dropped their feet on the floor.

"Now we can continue with eager contestant number two, Johnny from laundry services, who was also charged with abandonment."

"Excuse me, how could we be charged with abandonment if we didn't go to court?" I asked.

"I ask the questions...not you!"

"I'm just curious as to why we didn't go to court before we came here."

"It doesn't always work like that. If you were caught abandoning the village, I could kill you whenever I want without a trial."

"Then why don't you," I asked.

"Are you sure you want to egg me on this way?"

"Why do you have to play with your food before you eat it?"

"For the entertainment, of course; people love reality television."

"Who says?"

"All of them," Kenneth replied as he pointed to the audience. "They all applied willingly to watch you suffer because they feel strongly that you should pay for what you've done to them."

"And what have I 'done to them' to make them feel this way?"

"Abandoning Walnut Cherryville is like running away from your family. We gave you everything, and you are still ungrateful. Would you bite the hand that gives you bread? All that we asked was that you participate in our community. Did you realize that when you don't work for a day, a friend has to work double shifts to pick up the slack? That's what you're doing to them. You don't care about anyone else but yourself. I welcomed you into my home—"

"Welcomed??? More like abducted. I never said I wanted to be here."

"I was offering you the chance at a better life, a life where you could be free from your wrongdoings in an environment where you could learn from your mistakes and be the best version of yourself."

"My life was fine before I was taken here and definitely before I met you."

"Thinking about the man you shot dead every day is not fine. You're mourning the loss of your father and your grandfather, and you haven't been mentally sound for years. All we tried to do was help you be a better person, but you refuse to change your criminal ways."

"Who are you? Why are we here? Why does Walnut Cherryville exist at all?" I asked.

"I'm tired of hearing your nagging voice...You're like an untamed shrew," Kenneth said. "Next question for the audience: What is the best way to get someone to stop talking? A: Superglue his lips shut, B: Punch his jaw, C: Duct tape his mouth, or D: Fill his mouth with peanut butter. Vote on your keypads now!"

"Sixty seconds," the robotic woman's voice announced through the speakers. Everyone in the audience pecked at the keypads in front of them. "You have selected...Fill his mouth with peanut butter."

"Is that supposed to be a punishment?" I joked.

The audience laughed.

"Guards, every time Johnny says a word, stick a spoonful of peanut butter in his mouth until he stops talking," Kenneth ordered.

"Delicious," I said. A guard stuck a spoonful of peanut butter in my mouth.

"Contestant number three, Laura, a gatherer, was charged with abandonment," Kenneth said. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"When I came to Walnut Cherryville, I learned something about myself that I'd rather not know, but now that I know, I can't take it back," Laura said. "Two weeks ago I was living my life, and then I was captured and brought here, where I found out that I have a deadly disease. At first, I thought this information was a burden to know because I was worried that I wouldn't live past thirty. After it marinated for a while, I saw it as an opportunity to change. Everyone has their own reasons for leaving Walnut Cherryville. I thought about staying, and then I changed my mind when I realized that I wanted something else. Knowing that I'd die early forced me to think about what I really wanted out of life. If you don't mind, I'd like to read the bucket list I prepared...It's in my right shoe." A guard slipped off Laura's right pump and found a torn piece of paper folded up in her shoe.

"I'll read it," Kenneth said. The guard handed the paper to Kenneth. "Bucket list," he read. "Design my own fashion line, regain respect from my family, find true love, wear an outfit made by a famous fashion designer for a day, walk the runway, and find a best friend." Kenneth refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "Have you completed any of these yet?"

"I got to wear an outfit made by a famous fashion designer, but that's the only one I've done so far."

"How does it feel?"

"I'm wearing a Michael Kors dress, and I love it. It was loose, so I pinned it tighter in a few places, but it still looks good."

"Laura, what if I told you that you could cross another item off your bucket list today?"

"I'd say: what's the catch?"

"Laura will model her new dress on the runway, but I need your help in deciding what the runway will be. Here's the question: which of these runways would you like to see Laura walk on? A. Tightrope, B. Balance beam, C. Pirate's plank, or D. Roof. Vote on your keypads now."

"Sixty seconds," the robotic woman said. "You have selected...Tightrope."

The guards set up a tightrope several feet above our heads. Laura will be walking over us...or falling on us. A guard untied Laura and escorted her to where the rope began backstage.

I felt nervous. How good is her balance? I didn't want to be tied to a chair when she fell on me or hurt herself.

Laura's face glistened with sweat as she kicked off her heels and tied her hair back. She rolled her head around, stretching her neck, and took a few deep breaths before she took her first step on the tightrope. She wobbled on the first step but quickly regained her balance when she stretched her arms out to her sides and stopped looking down at us.

I think she realized that it was better to focus on her destination instead of looking down.

A few steps later, she walked over Veronica, who prayed silently with her head down. Next, she walked over me. I looked up at her as she walked above my head. She seemed pretty stable and focused despite all the pressure and noise from the audience. I didn't know why I looked up...If anything, I could be distracting her. It was like when I was at the doctor's office, and they wanted to give me a shot or take blood. The doctor said to look away before the needle went in, but I'd rather watch. If Laura was going to fall on me, I'd rather watch and know exactly when it would happen down to the second instead of it being a surprise.

Laura crossed her empty chair and began to walk over Vincent. He also looked up, but I wasn't sure if that surprised me. There seemed to be something going on between Laura and Vincent, but they were fairly private about it, whatever it was. Collins, on the other hand, looked down as she crossed him. When she reached the end of the line, she disappeared backstage, and everyone who didn't have their hands tied applauded. The guards brought her back down to the stage and tied her up to the chair again.

"Laura, that seemed far too easy for you," Kenneth said, "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I was a gymnast as a child, so balancing challenges don't scare me anymore," Laura replied.

"I'll have to keep that in mind, so if you make it to the next round, I will have something more challenging for you. Contestant number four, Vincent from packaging services, was charged with abandonment. Vincent, you had quite a cushy job here at Walnut Cherryville. You were the produce weight recorder at the packaging station, which is a difficult job to get as a newcomer to Walnut Cherryville, due to the high demand of applicants and few openings available. Why did you want to leave it?"

"I didn't leave Walnut Cherryville because I didn't like the work. I left because my friends wanted to leave, and I was just standing by their decision. If they wanted to stay, I would have stayed," Vincent said.

"Did you like working here?"

"The work was bearable, but I was actually more amazed by how technologically and scientifically advanced this place is, compared to the rest of the world. ComCon is an amazing system, and the architecture on the buildings here is surreal. Living here is like living in a dream. I never thought I'd see trees and plants grow in a desert. It's just not real, but here it is. It's like I was put into a time machine and taken to a place twenty to fifty years into the future."

"Did you want to stay?"

"Either way, I was fine with staying or going. I just like to follow the flow."

"Did you know that being a follower is like being blind?" Kenneth said. "You let your friends lead you to your death. Here's the question: how should Vincent show his appreciation to the leaders he follows? A. Eat Veronica's hair, B. Lick peanut butter off Johnny's legs, C. Clean Laura's feet with his tongue, or D. Kiss Collins on the mouth for ten seconds. Vote on your keypads now!"

"Sixty seconds," the robotic woman said.

So not only would Vincent get punished, one of us would get punished again! Vincent licking peanut butter off my legs would be gross for him and strange for me. I hoped they didn't pick that option.

"You have selected...Kiss Collins on the mouth for ten seconds." Laura and I laughed while Collins and Vincent looked very disappointed.

"This is not a laughing matter," Vincent said.

"You best stick them fish lips elsewhere because they ain't touchin' my mouth!" Collins shouted.

As the guards untied Vincent, the audience laughed and started chanting, "Kiss, kiss, kiss."

"Trust me, Collins, I dislike this as much as you do," Vincent said as he sat on Collins's lap.

"Get off me!" Collins said right before Vincent kissed him. Collins's eyes opened so wide with surprise that they looked like they were about to pop out of his head. Vincent's eyes were closed.

"Ten, nine, eight," the audience counted down. "Seven, six, five..."

I guess if Collins wasn't tied to a chair, he would have put up more of a struggle. Vincent didn't dwell on the kiss as much and just seemed to have the "let's get it over with" strategy.

When they counted down to one, everyone cheered like they were bringing in the New Year. Vincent released Collins from the lip lock, and the guards tied Vincent back in his chair.

"How is that for excitement?" Kenneth asked the audience. "Are we all pumped up for our last contestant?"

The audience roared.

"Our last, and final contestant, is Collins from janitorial services, and he was charged with abandonment. This is Collins's second time on Chair Trials, and he loves entertaining you so much that he keeps coming back for more!"

The audience cheered.

"Like I always say, don't stop until you get enough! Collins, I heard that you are really bad at your job. You fall asleep during work and use the cleaning carts as skateboards. Why shouldn't you be chosen first for the chair?"

"I think the people like me," Collins said. "They didn't pick me the first time, so don't pick me the second time. The longer I'm around, the more I can continue to entertain you."

"Do you not care about the sanitation of your community?"

"I care so much that when I sleep on my shifts, I dream about cleaning," Collins remarked. "A freshly mopped floor really puts a spring in my step every day. In fact, I'm so happy that the broom thinks I'm cheating on her with another woman."

The audience gasped.

"The other night, when we slept together in my sleeping bag, I said, 'No, baby, you're the only one in my life that I sweep with,'" Collins continued.

The audience roared with laughter.

"See, my broom is so skeptical of what I do during the day when I'm not doing her."

The audience chuckled.

"She swept around for evidence for a month, and all she could find was a bleach stain on my uniform. She said, 'I caught you now, and you can't deny it. That wretched stain is the lipstick from a mop!' I'm like, 'Whoa, baby, don't jump to conclusions like that; I did nothing to your sister!'"

Several people in the audience cried from laughter.

"Now I wouldn't tell my broom this, but I've always favored my mop. There's nothing better than a girl that stays wet all the time!"

"Yeah," the men in the audience shouted as they applauded with agreement.

"She's ready for anything. Everything I do seems to turn her on: the way I clean the toilet and the way I dust the furniture...There I am working, and she's salivating over me like I'm the first steak she's seen in days. I'm like, 'Geez lady, I know you're hungry, but you need to back up that flow with a Tampax before I be trippin'!'"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha!"

"My mop is very specific about what she wants, and she'll only give me a polish if I pull her hair first."

The audience stood up enthusiastically, giving Collins a standing ovation.

"Thank you, thank you! If you want more jokes, don't vote for Collins."

"Here is the question: What would be the most hilarious item to throw in Collins's face? A. Lemon meringue pie, B. Bugs, C. Bird poop, or D. Slushy. Vote on your keypads now!"

"Sixty seconds," the robotic voice said.

That was clever of Collins to do stand-up. It seemed like the audience really enjoyed it, so they might keep him around. It was difficult to predict who might get picked because we were all here for the same reason, so I guessed the audience would probably use our fun-o-meter performances to decide. I didn't care who they voted for...I didn't want to see anyone die.

"An equal percentage has selected...Lemon meringue pie and Slushy."

"Thanks, guys, that was sweet of you," Collins said.

Two guards walked on stage, one holding a pie and the other holding a slushy.

"If possible, try to get it in my mouth."

The guard pied Collins in the face and rubbed it in.

Collins licked the pie from around his mouth. "That is the best lemon meringue pie I've had in years! Whoever baked that needs—"

The other guard threw a red slushy in Collins's face.

"Whoa, that's co-co-co-cold! Is that cherry I taste?"

"Now it's time for you to vote," Kenneth announced. "Which one of these five criminals least deserves another chance to live among us for another day? If you're in the live audience, stay in your seats, and cast your votes on the touch screens in front of you. If you're in the glass house, cast your votes with ComCon, and we'll see you back here in thirty minutes. Happy voting!"

The red stage curtain closed. Everyone glared at each other, wondering who it would be as the guards set up the electric chair.

I was worried about Veronica. She didn't get a chance to say much or show the audience why she should stay in the game. Maybe she didn't care and just wanted to get it over with. I was going to miss her...We had some good times together. I thought they would keep Collins for his entertainment value, Vincent because he appeared like a loyalist, and Laura because her bucket list was emotionally touching, and she succeeded at her challenge. What about me? What did the audience think about me? I hoped they were thinking outside the game. Not who to vote for, but why were we all here? Why did a place like this exist? At one point or another, every person in the audience was abducted like we were. Who was this crazy man who found enjoyment in electrocuting the people he abducted? There were a lot of things the audience could be thinking about. I hoped they were thinking about what was important.

When I thought about what was important to me, nothing seemed more important than my family, and I didn't mean my adopted family. Every once in a blue moon, I got to see my biological mother, but as I got older, I saw her less and less. The last time I saw her was this past Christmas Eve for fifteen minutes. Between the Christmas carolling, gift wrapping, and holiday parties, fifteen minutes was all my adopted mom was willing to spare for me to visit my mom in jail.

"Don't be too long," my adopted mother said as she drove up to the entrance of the Maricopa County Jail. "You have fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," I said as I got out of the car and closed the door. She drove away to park the car as I entered the building. "I'm here to see Shelly Cockit; she's my mother," I said to the front desk assistant.

A police officer took me down the hall to the phone booth in the visiting room, and I waited, sitting eagerly.

A few minutes later, my mom walked in on the other side, with her hands cuffed, and sat down. She looked a lot older than I remembered her to be. Her hair was turning gray, and her skin started to wrinkle. She looked very orange. We both picked up our phones as we peered at each other through the glass barrier.

"Look how much you've grown," Shelly said. "You're a handsome boy."

"Merry Christmas, Mom. I'm sorry I haven't visited for a few years. I don't get much time off from school, and my adopted parents don't want to bring me over here very often. How are you doing?"

"Just counting the days until I will be released. Should be any day now. Not like there will be anything for me to go back to."

"I'm sure we can work something out. I miss you."

"I miss you too," Mom said as she began to cry. "I love you, Johnny, and I would love to have you back, but...I think it's best if you stay with your adopted parents."

"What? Why? I want to be with you. You're my real mother."

"I know, and I will always be your real mother," she cried as she placed her hand on the glass. "I know what's best for you. It's not safe for you to be with me."

I placed my hand over hers on the glass. "I don't understand."

"Do they take care of you? Are they nice?"

"I guess so, but I don't feel like they're my family. They sent me to that school because they think I'm troubled, but it wasn't my fault. I didn't do it—"

"I know you're a good boy, and you don't need to prove that to me. You need to stay in school. Get a good education. Make something of yourself so you don't end up like me or your father. This family has ruined your life enough. I want things to be different for you."

"Everything has changed so much since they took you away. I just wanted something familiar to hold on to."

"I want you to change your name."

"What? Why?"

"Just be Gilbertson. It will keep you safe."

"Being a Cockit is part of my identity, and I don't want to lose it."

"I've thought long and hard about this, and it was a difficult decision. The only way to protect you is by changing your name and separating you from your past."

"What are you trying to protect me from?"

"They're looking for you."

"Who's looking for me?"

A police officer walked into my mother's side of the room. "Your time is up. I have to take you back to your cell now."

"Bye, Johnny, I love you," Mom said as she stood up and put the phone back on the hook.

"Wait, Mom! Tell me what's going on!" I knocked on the glass a few times as the officer escorted her out of the room. "Hey, come back, I don't understand! Mom! Mom!"

I felt like my mom had abandoned me. I always thought that when she was released from jail, she'd be my mom again, and we'd live together. She probably was released already, and now I was coming to the realization that I would never get to see her again.

The red curtain opened, and Kenneth returned to the stage.

"Welcome back! The results of your votes are in, and you have chosen..." Kenneth unfolded a sheet of paper and paused for a second. "Johnny!" Kenneth clapped, and the audience started to clap with him. "Good choice, everyone. It was a tight race."

The guards untied me from my chair and pushed me into the electric chair. As they strapped me in, my heart pounded, my palms became sweaty, and the sound of the roaring crowd died down to the beating of my heart. I stared down at the floor trying to breathe, but it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. Why did they pick me? I was so afraid that my body began to twitch and shiver inside its restraints. Everything from my ankles up to my chest was strapped down to the chair. The guard took a wet sponge out of a bucket and placed it on my head before he lowered the head piece.

Kenneth tapped me on the shoulder, and I looked up. "Any last words?"

I gazed at the folded piece of paper that Kenneth held in his hand. The print was backward and upside down, but I could still see that it didn't read my name. There were too many letters.

Once Kenneth caught me gazing at the paper, he folded it up more and placed it in his pocket. "This is your chance. Speak or forever hold your peace."

I looked at Veronica, Laura, Vincent, and Collins, who were still tied to their chairs. They all tried not to look sad for me, but I knew they were. "I will always remember you guys as part of my family, and I hope we will be reunited one day. I'm sorry for leading you in the wrong direction, and I hope you can forgive me. Don't let them encourage you to fight against each other. I guess this is goodbye, but not forever...just for now."

The guard turned on the voltage, and the electricity pulsed through my body. Black night, white lightning, black night, white lightning...black night.

Chapter 23: Collins

RIP my best friend, Johnny.

Johnny was my first friend at Sonoran Correctional High School. Even though he murdered someone, he didn't seem like the murdering type. When we first met, I was surprised about how friendly and inviting he was. On my first day of school, everyone ignored me and spread rumors about what bad thing I could have done to make it into this place. I heard all sorts of crazy things, but most people thought I was admitted for stealing bling. In class, the boys would hide their pencils and place their book bags on the other side of the desk when I sat down next to them. Many of them constantly checked their pockets to see if they still had their lunch money. No one wanted to sit with me at lunch because they thought I'd steal their food, which was the only thing I had ever stolen in my life. I just got really tired of all the rumors and negativity, so I skipped lunch to shoot hoops alone in the gym. At the time, I didn't realize that Johnny followed me into the gym and had been watching me shoot and cry for twenty minutes...Just to clear things up...I wasn't crying because some stupid kids were picking on me; I was crying because I missed my grandma and felt bad about what I did!

"You want to play one-on-one?" Johnny asked. Those were the first words he said to me when we met.

"Are you any good?" I asked as I shot a three-pointer. The ball swished through the net like butter. I've always wanted to play ball with someone. At home, I watched basketball all the time on TV and shot hoops by myself in the driveway, but I never got the chance to play against another player. When I looked out my bedroom window, which was on the second floor, I saw the boys from my school play basketball at the rundown court on the corner of our street. I wanted to play with them so bad that sometimes I contemplated tying a sheet around my bedpost and sneaking out the window at night. I couldn't use the front door because I'd pass the living room on the way there, and Grandma usually fell asleep in the living room with the TV on Soapnet all night. Unless it was for school, she never let me leave her side. I enjoyed spending time with her, but sometimes it was frustrating; so bouncing the ball around and shooting hoops helped me relieve my frustration.

"I'm better at football, but I think I'm all right," Johnny replied. "What about you? Are you any good?"

I was embarrassed to tell Johnny that I had never actually played basketball before. I wanted to look cool in front of him because he seemed like a potential friend. "Yeah, I think so," I said as I dribbled the ball toward the net. Johnny jumped in to block me and steal the ball, but I ran past him and took a quick shot to the backboard and scored my first point. "Two-nothing, Collins."

Thirty minutes later, the score was sixteen to six, and I was winning.

"You're really good at basketball," Johnny said. "Have you tried out for the basketball team yet?"

"No, I didn't know there was a basketball team here."

"It's been in the works for six months. I heard the state is now allowing Sonoran Correctional students to compete against public high schools in basketball. The coach is trying to scramble up a team to start playing next year."

"Did you try out?"

"No," he laughed. "I don't think I'm good enough for basketball. I'm Johnny, by the way, and you're Collins, right?"

"Yep."

Johnny remained encouraging and supportive throughout my basketball training. It was sad to see a friend go like that. He was the first person I competed against in a basketball game. Johnny and I clicked instantly because he had a cool, calm, and collected personality. I was often anxious and worried about things, and Johnny always stood by my side to help me figure things out. I felt like he was the person who always knew what to do, and that's how I will remember him. He was an honorable leader and survivor who stayed in touch with his primal instincts and was blind to the superficial things that ruined the rest of us. I could have never asked for a better best friend.

* * *

After Johnny died, that episode of Chair Trials ended, and the audience left the building. The guards untied the remaining four contestants from their chairs and threw us back in the cages. Tomorrow, Kenneth would force us to compete against each other in the Chair Trials games. With all the drama that happened today, it was difficult to get any shuteye around here. The women were loud and distracting to those who wanted to mourn more quietly. Laura wouldn't stop crying, and Veronica whispered prayers all night.

On top of that, the cells were pitch dark, and I could hear rats nearby...I hoped they weren't in my cell. I was afraid of rats...If they touched me, I would shriek like a girl, and I didn't want anyone to hear me do that. If it happened, I would just blame it on one of the girls and say they did it. The concrete floor was uncomfortable, and no one bothered to give anyone in the cages a sleeping bag or even a pillow. I tried lying down on the floor, but every position felt uncomfortable and when I was uncomfortable, I couldn't sleep. That was it...I would just have to fall asleep sitting up! When I backed up and leaned against the brick wall, I felt the bricks move behind me, so I stopped leaning on it and felt around. My body left an indention on the wall...how bizarre. As I pushed on one of the bricks, I could hear it grinding against the others until it fell down a steep drop and hit something that sounded like metal. A dull light beamed through the brick hole. Holy shit! There was something down there. If I was lucky, it was a way out.

"What was that banging sound?" Vincent asked.

"Push on your brick wall," I said.

"Why?"

"I just want to see what happens."

"Nothing happened. Collins, what's going on over there?"

I ignored Vincent and kept pushing in the bricks. The more bricks I pushed, the brighter my cage got, and the banging sound attracted more attention from the neighbors. Luckily, there weren't any guards around to hear it. When the hole in the wall was large enough, I peeked inside and found a tunnel that traveled beneath my cell. I couldn't see the source of the light, but I could see there was a drop.

"Collins, what are you doing?" Laura asked.

I think her cell was close enough to kind of see what was going on. "There's a hole in my wall and a tunnel that leads somewhere. I'm going to see what it is."

"You can't leave us here!"

"I never said I was leaving you. For all I know, it could lead to nowhere."

"And what if it leads to somewhere? You'll be free, and the rest of us will still be locked in these cages!"

"Try your wall. Yours might do it, too."

"It doesn't. You can't leave us...It isn't fair!"

What was her problem? Was she jealous that I accidently found a tunnel that led to who knows where?

"Laura, stop it," Veronica said. "Don't be selfish."

"Me...selfish??? He's the one being selfish! He's going to leave us all to die!"

"If you were in the same situation, Laura, I bet you'd leave us all and not even think about it!" I said as I scooted down to the edge of the concrete. "Bye, guys."

"Bye," Vincent said.

"Send help if you can," Veronica requested.

"No!" Laura screamed as she rattled the bars on her cell door.

I thought I'd better get out of here before Laura's screaming attracted unwanted attention. I pushed myself off the edge, fell down the drop, and slid down the metal slide. At the end of the tunnel, there was a small metal room lit by a candle, which appeared to have nothing in it until I spotted a lined yellow piece of paper folded up on the floor.

From past experience, I tended to avoid the lined yellow papers...They usually meant something bad, but in this case, maybe not. Could the yellow paper lead me to something worse than me dying via Chair Trials? This could be all part of the game, but what if it wasn't? I picked up the paper, unfolded it, and a large, black metal paper clip fell on the floor. Oh great, what was I supposed to do with a paper clip? It wasn't even the kind I could use to pick a lock. It was one of those sturdy paper clips used to hold manuscripts or really long book reports together. There was a note on the yellow paper that read "clip this to the waist of your pants." Why? Why should I do that for you, you stinkin' yellow piece of paper? All you've done was cause me trouble! Stop freaking out...It was just a paper clip; what could it possibly do?

As I held the paper clip in my hand, I looked across the room and saw that the tunnel continued on the other side. All right, here it goes...I clipped the paper clip to the elastic of my basketball shorts and closed my eyes as I waited for the magical transformation. A few seconds later, I opened my eyes and looked around. Nothing happened.

I continued to the other side of the tunnel, which got smaller as I reached the end. At the end, the tunnel was the size of a crawlspace, and it led to a square red door. I opened the door and crawled out into a dark closet. I felt fabric hanging over me. It must be clothes hanging above. Where was I?

After I crawled out from under the clothes, I saw a light shine from beneath the door. I stood up, opened the closet door slightly, and peeked outside. I didn't see anyone around, so I walked out into the hallway, which was lit brightly with florescent lights. The closet was filled with lab coats hanging in front of the crawl space on the back wall. The other walls had shelves piled with lab supplies, like glass beakers, test tubes, eyedroppers, goggles, and microscopes. A few seconds later, a man in a white lab coat approached me.

"Johnson, have you finally inventoried the supply closet like I asked you to do six weeks ago?" the man asked.

Johnson—who the heck is Johnson? "I was just getting started," I replied. A few feet away, I saw the sign for a restroom. "Excuse me," I said as I left the conversation. I went into the restroom and locked the door. "Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed when I saw myself in the mirror. I was a white man! My hair was red and curly, and my skin was so pale, it had freckles. How did I get a beer belly so fast? A few minutes ago, my abs were as flat as washboards. I turned away from the mirror and looked down at my hand, which was black. I looked into the mirror again, and my skin was white. I didn't look like myself at all in the mirror, but when I looked at myself without the mirror, I was normal.

Did that guy think I was someone else? When he saw me, was I black or white? I must have looked like someone he recognized because he wasn't alarmed when he saw me. It was a magic mirror! No...it was a magic paper clip.

Standing in front of the mirror, I took the paper clip off my shorts and watched as I transformed back into me. It was quick, and it happened in the blink of an eye. Kind of like a now you see it...now you don't sort of thing. Not extremely impressive but shocking nevertheless. I put the paper clip back on, and one blink later, I was a white man named Johnson. Why would the person harassing me with yellow papers give me this? Someone knocked on my door.

"Johnson, you need to be done with the inventory by tonight," the man said through the door. "The truck is leaving tomorrow, and if you don't make it, we won't get new supplies for six months! I left my requests on your desk. Make sure you get everything I asked for while you're out shopping."

"OK," I said, smiling. Thank you, yellow paper...You have been very kind. I didn't understand why the yellow paper wanted me to get out of Walnut Cherryville. Why couldn't the person come out and talk to me instead of sending me yellow papers?

"How many supply closets have you inventoried so far?" the man asked.

"This is the first one," I replied.

"You have a long way to go, Johnson; get to work! What are you doing in there? Laying an egg?"

"I'm coming; don't get your panties all in a bunch!"

"Excuse me? Who do you think you're talking to? If you don't start respecting authority, then I will file a complaint with the government, and you'll be replaced within a week!"

"I'm sorry, sir, won't happen again," I said as I walked out of the bathroom. Once the man walked away, I started to wander around to find out where I was. I opened every door and searched for clues. After searching through several laboratories and supply closets, I found Johnson's office.

It was a hole-in-the-wall office stuffed with a desk and a large filing cabinet. As I walked into the office, I heard something crinkle under my feet...a trail of fresh Sno Ball wrappers. The trash can was literally right next to the door, yet somehow there were more Sno Ball wrappers around the can than in it. I picked up a wrapper from the top of the pile and smelled the inside. The coconut still smelled fresh...This must have been Johnson's last meal.

By the way, where was Johnson? If I was him, did that mean there were two of us? Johnson's desk was cluttered with papers and folders around the computer. The mug of coffee on his desk was still steaming. I picked up the mug with both hands and took a sip: hazelnut brew with three creams and four sugars. This man had a sweet tooth. I put the coffee down next to a nameplate that read "Albert Johnson, laboratory assistant" before I sat down in his computer chair. The words Walnut Cherryville Scientific Laboratories rolled across the screen in shiny gold letters. I shook the mouse, and the screensaver went away. Which part of Walnut Cherryville was this? Kenneth never showed us this part on the tour. Several documents were open on the computer...all science crap I didn't understand. I flipped through the task bar until I found a ComCon instant chat.

Hotlips37: I'm so excited to finally hook up with you. You sound sexy. When do you get off work?

Redknight2: I'm always working, but I can sneak out for a little while to meet you.

Hotlips37: I want to do it in the sand...under the stars.

Redknight2: However you want it, just let me know where and when.

Hotlips37: Two o'clock in the morning by the glass house.

Redknight2: You got it! See you then.

Sorry lady, but you were going to be sadly disappointed. The time was 11:32, so it was likely that Johnson hadn't left the building yet. I heard the doorknob turn, and a shiver went up my spine. What if it was Johnson? Quick, hide! I ducked down under the desk right before someone walked through the door. It sounded like whoever it was just got something out of the filing cabinet and left the office.

That was close. Johnson was supposed to leave on a truck to get supplies tomorrow, but how was I going to sneak in without him noticing? I sat back up on the computer chair, searched around the clutter on his desk, and found an appointment book. The book said that the truck was leaving at eight tomorrow morning. I erased the appointment and rewrote it in for next week at the same time and day. There...Now we wouldn't run into each other. I left his office and returned to the supply closet. I used some of the lab coats to make a bed for myself on the floor and the others to cover my appearance. Now, I could fall asleep.

Chapter 24: Laura

At sunrise, the guards entered the Chair Trials holding-cell hallway and noticed that Collins had disappeared. "Cock-a-doodle-do," a guard shouted as he banged a crowbar against the bars on Collins's door.

I was sound asleep, lying on my stomach in a puddle of my own tears. During the night I used my arms to support my head, and by morning they became numb with pins and needles. My eyelashes were encrusted together, my hair was caked to the left side of my head, and my ribs felt bruised from sleeping on the hard surface. I was hoping that yesterday was all a dream and that none of it really happened, but I quickly realized that it did. When I opened my eyes, I saw the guards examining the giant hole in the brick wall. The beautiful Michael Kors dress that I wore was ruined with wet dirt stains from the concrete. I was still trapped in a cage, and somehow Collins managed to break free...bastard!

"How did this happen," one guard said to the other. "This isn't possible."

I sat up and scooted close to the bars to get a better look. The tunnel was dark and didn't light up like it did last night, which made it difficult for the guards to detect.

A guard squatted down and peered into the darkness with a flashlight. "What's down here? It seems like nothing but dirt," he said.

How does a tunnel just disappear like that? Collins must have escaped to freedom and destroyed the tunnel so that no one else could use it. He was such a selfish bastard; I wanted to strangle him for leaving. Veronica was blind and didn't know Collins at all. He wasn't going to help us...All he cared about was himself. When he left us, he didn't think about how his leaving would affect everyone else. Now that he was gone, everyone would die a day earlier than expected, giving us one less chance to avoid the chair. I was expecting to die early but not as early as tomorrow or the next day.

"We're going to have to tell the boss," a guard said. "Who wants to call it in?" The guards hesitated, tapped their feet, twiddled their fingers, and whistled, trying not to make eye contact with one another. "He's going to be really mad. Bob, you do it."

"No I did it last time!"

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did. I called Kenneth when they escaped the first time, so it's not my turn."

"He's right," another guard chimed in.

"Fine, I'll do it," the first guard sighed as he pulled out a touch screen device from his pocket. "ComCon, I need you to send Kenneth Quinton a message. You are needed in the Chair Trials studio. One of the contestants escaped...send."

Two minutes later, Kenneth barged through the back door, wearing a mint-green bathrobe with matching slippers and a towel twisted around his hair. The guards stood up straight with their hands at their sides like toy soldiers. As he quickly passed them and turned into the cell, I could see that he was in the middle of an avocado facial treatment when he was interrupted. "You idiots! How could you have let them escape again?" Kenneth yelled.

"We didn't let them all escape, sir, just one of them," a guard said in a terrorized voice.

Kenneth's green face started to bubble with fury as his hands clenched into fists. "Come here right now!"

The guard shuffled his feet as he walked inside the cage and approached Kenneth.

"Everyone gather around."

The guards gathered around the outside of the cage near the entrance.

"Inside, you dummies!"

The guards walked inside the cage and lined up against the brick wall between cells, as far away from Kenneth as possible.

"This is what happens when you let one of them escape." Kenneth grabbed the guard's uniform with both hands and pushed him into the hole, head first. The guard's head punched out a few more bricks on the way in before he fell down the drop, screaming.

I heard a slicing sound, which made the screaming stop, followed by something rolling against metal. Maybe the tunnel was still usable. Even if it was, I didn't see how anyone else would get the chance to use it to escape, now that Kenneth and the guards saw the hole in the wall. Why couldn't Kenneth and the guards see the tunnel?

Kenneth stormed out of the cell and into the hallway. When Kenneth left, the guards gathered around the hole and started whispering something into it. As Kenneth walked down the hall in his fuzzy attire, he quickly glanced into each cell and jiggled the doors. When he got to mine, I backed away from the door. His eyes were bloodshot with anger, and his neck was almost as red as his eyes. After he checked all the cells, he turned around and walked back to the hole. "Move!" The guards split apart into two groups against the two remaining brick walls. "Phillip, if you find Collins down there, let me know," Kenneth shouted into the hole.

"I think he's dead, sir," another guard replied.

"No shit! You'll be dead, too, if I hear another word out of your mouth," Kenneth said before he did some breathing exercises. He walked in front of my cage, closed his eyes, and pulled out a squishy, pink ball from his bathrobe pocket. As he breathed in, he squeezed the ball. When he breathed out, he released the ball. He repeated this exercise ten times before he lost his temper again and threw the ball forcefully at my head, which I blocked with my forearm.

That was going to be a big bruise tomorrow...if there would be a tomorrow. The ball fell on the floor next to my feet, and I picked it up.

Kenneth stormed off toward the stage and started breaking things loudly. I scooted as close to the barred door as I could to view the temper tantrum.

The guards watched intensely as Kenneth threw the chairs against the wall and tossed them into the empty audience seating. When he finished with the chairs, he moved on to the microphone. I covered my ears as he bashed it into the floor and broke the stand. "What are you all looking at?" he yelled. "Clean up this mess."

The guards scrambled to the stage to put everything back in order.

Kenneth walked back into the hallway again. "The remaining three of you listen up. Your friend, Collins, has already ruined my plans for a consecutive, five-episode Chair Trials, so I'm going to make a deal with one of you. Whichever one of you tells me in detail how Collins escaped, I will spare your life, and you will not compete in Chair Trials anymore."

Veronica, Vincent, and I sat silently in our cages as Kenneth paced around the hall.

"What, none of you want to talk? Let me make this more clear...You get to fucking live! You all should be jumping for this opportunity."

"I'll tell you," I blurted out.

"No, Laura, you can't trust anything he says. He'll never let you go," Veronica shouted.

Kenneth walked over to my cage.

I stood up with his ball in my hand and met him at the barred door. "What are the terms and conditions if I give you this information?"

"You will live, and I will wipe your slate clean of abandonment as long as you never do it again," Kenneth said.

I sighed and turned away.

Kenneth grabbed my hand and gently pulled me closer to him. His hands were soft like a baby's skin, but strong like a bear's paw. "Tell me what's troubling you."

Well, the first thing that was troubling me was that I just saw you wreck the stage during your temper tantrum and now you were holding my hand and talking to me like a salesperson. Kenneth seemed scary, but something told me he liked to negotiate. I turned to face him. "I don't want to work as a gatherer anymore, and I want to be allowed to redesign the uniforms."

Kenneth rolled his eyes.

"Also, if I have to stay in Walnut Cherryville for the rest of my life, I don't want to work for shower coins or share the bathroom with anyone else. I want a tub and an actual bed, not a sleeping bag, and I want my own room. Also, if you could spare Vincent and Veronica's life, I would appreciate it a lot."

"That's a tall order," Kenneth replied. "Let's refine that list. I will accept everything except sparing Vincent and Veronica's life. Do you still want to make a deal?"

I paused, and my eyes watered. "Can you give us a second to talk about it?"

"Sure thing," Kenneth said as he took his ball back. "I'll be back in five minutes, and I'll need a decision by then. If you don't have one, then the deal is off." Kenneth walked down the hall and out through the back door.

"Laura, stop this right now; you don't know what you're doing," Veronica pleaded.

"Well, I don't see you guys doing anything! Collins hopped out scot-free, and that's not fair. He doesn't have to deal with any of this!"

"God has chosen him for something greater than us, Laura. You need to give him a chance to come through for us."

"Relying on people is a waste of time, Veronica. Collins didn't tell us he'd send help, and even if he does, who knows if it will save us before we're all dead! Someone needs to do something and stop waiting for things to happen. I've thought about dying, and I'm just not ready. There's so much to life that I haven't explored yet. I know I'll probably only live until I'm thirty, but I had my life all planned out, and I know what I want to do now. I still want that chance to make it happen. You understand, right?"

"I understand that you're a traitor and that you make deals with the devil," Veronica replied. "Vincent, could you help me out here? Maybe you can convince her to cancel this deal."

"I don't know how I could do that," Vincent said. "I can't even convince her to be my girlfriend. Laura, I will do anything for you because I care about you. Just tell me this: will you ever love me?"

"I don't know right now, Vincent; we hardly know each other. Just to let you know, I'm not pushing you away because I don't like you or don't care about you. I need time to develop something deeper than a physical relationship. I'm looking for true love, and finding it takes time."

"We don't have much time left, but I understand. I'll support whatever decision you make, but just know that you'll have to live with it. Will you be able to go on with your life, knowing that everyone who ever cared about you is dead? Yes, Kenneth's word may sound good to you now that you're facing the electric chair, but is he going to stay true to his word? How do you know he won't kill you later? I'm not saying that I want to see you die, but everyone might be able to handle it easier if we all die together."

"With Kenneth, everything comes with a price," Veronica added. "Don't think that he'll just give you something for nothing. He's going to make you work for it, and I bet you won't like whatever he makes you do. Also, think about what this will do to your soul once you finally pass away. When God evaluates your sins, he's going to know that you betrayed your friends...You probably won't be spending your afterlife in heaven."

"That doesn't matter to me, Veronica. I'm not a religious person, so I don't believe any of that."

"That's your choice."

"What's the problem here? Are you upset with me that I didn't give you the chance to speak up to Kenneth?"

"I'm not upset," Veronica replied. "I'm just trying to help you. I would never talk to Kenneth about anything, and if I were you, I'd be thankful that the Lord spared at least one of us."

"That doesn't make sense. You're getting prissy at me for wanting to leave, but you're not mad at Collins? What's your point?"

"Collins left in a dignified way, and he wasn't a traitor. He didn't find his way out by being a tattletale; he found his way out because he was chosen."

"This is how I see it...You two will die either way," I explained. "If I agree to Kenneth's terms, you both die, and if I don't, then we all die. It doesn't make much of a difference, except one less person dies."

"Well, it does make a difference what you tell him," Vincent said. "He might be able to find Collins with the information you give him."

"Collins has a head start...He'll be all right."

"Sounds like you already made your decision...save yourself," Vincent said.

"Yes, Laura, choose the easy way out," Veronica added. "Johnny just died, and you're giving in to the person who killed him. We're supposed to stand strong together and fight the authority...That's what Johnny would have wanted us to do."

Kenneth walked back into the building, headed over to my cell, and gazed at me though the bars. "So, Laura, what's your decision?"

"I'm going to take the pass; sorry, guys," I said.

"Good choice," Kenneth said as he unlocked my door. "Guards, help me escort Laura to my office. We need a quiet place to talk."

When I stepped out of the confining cage, I felt free, and a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I'm not going to die today, tomorrow, or the next day...phew. The bullet was successfully dodged. As I followed Kenneth down the hall, two guards followed behind me. When I passed Vincent's cell, he reached out and firmly grabbed my hand. We eyed each other for a few seconds before the guards pushed me onward. His eyes were deep blue seas of depression, and I couldn't bear to look at his sadness. Without crying, begging, or trembling, he somehow managed to make me feel bad about myself when I did nothing wrong. This was probably what he wanted for me. When the Titanic sank and there was only enough room on the raft for one to survive, Jack wanted Rose to use the raft so that she'd have babies, watch them grow, and live long enough to become an old lady. Jack cared about Rose so much that he put her needs above his own. I wasn't sure if Vincent was my Jack, but I did know that he wouldn't live long enough for me to ever find out what we could have been. While I was marching toward Kenneth's office, he would be marching toward death...I didn't want to think about that. I blinked and erased the image from my mind.

On the other hand, Veronica looked pissed. She stood by the door with her arms folded, giving me a disapproving look as I walked by. The walk to Kenneth's office felt like a walk of shame, but thankfully it only lasted for two minutes.

"Have a seat; make yourself comfortable," Kenneth said as we walked into his office. I sat down at the round table in the corner of the room while Kenneth pulled out a cold water bottle from the mini refrigerator by his desk. "You must be thirsty."

The minute Kenneth placed the water bottle on the table, I grabbed it, twisted the cap off, and chugged it down. As the chilling, crisp, delectable water flowed through my body, I imagined I was naked floating in an outdoor pool. The golden sun tanned my front as the crystal-clear water chilled my back. There was no one else there, just me floating away in the smooth water. All of a sudden, my mind snapped back to reality when I realized the water bottle was empty.

"I was going to say 'have a water bottle,' but it was gone before I could say that."

"Do you have any food?"

Kenneth looked into his desk drawer and found a pack of crackers. "This is all I have, but there's more where that came from if you just answer a few simple questions first," he said as he handed me the crackers. "Describe to me what you saw last night when Collins escaped."

"Collins pushed in the bricks on the back wall, and they fell down a steep drop. Everyone else tried it, too, but it only worked for him. Last night there was a light coming from behind the bricks. Collins talked about a tunnel, which I think was made out of metal. He used the tunnel to get out."

"Tunnel...huh," Kenneth said as he sat down across from me. "I didn't see a tunnel when I looked down there."

"Maybe you should try looking at night. I think the tunnel is still there...I heard it this morning when you pushed the guard down the hole." I nibbled on the crackers one at a time to maintain my ladylike manners.

Kenneth paused for a long time while he thought.

My stomach growled, which sounded as loud as a lion's roar in a quiet room. "Do you have any more questions for me?"

"No, I'm going to have a team investigate."

"So can I have something to eat and a bath now?"

Kenneth stood up, walked over to his desk, and opened a drawer. "Yes, but I'm going to have to blindfold you," he said as he pulled out a handkerchief.

"Why is that necessary?"

"I'm taking you somewhere special, and I don't want you to know where that is or how to get there. It was part of our agreement."

"So you're saying that everything I want is in this place you're taking me?"

"Indeed," he said as he wrapped the handkerchief around my eyes and tied it behind my head. He tied my hands behind my back and walked me to the special place, which took about five minutes.

I had a feeling that the special place was located somewhere in the glass building because my feet never touched the sand.

"Here we are," he said as I heard a heavy door shut behind me. He untied my hands and took off my blindfold. "Behold...the imagination room."

When I opened my eyes, I saw a blue lagoon surrounded by lava rocks and endless mountains. He called this place a room, but there were no walls to be found. The sun was shining brightly, and the sky was clear of clouds. It felt like I was really outside, but I kept telling myself that I was still in the glass house. I walked along the wooden dock, which brought me to an umbrella table that had a place setting for one, but four covered silver platters. A bottle of ice wine chilled in the middle of the table. Under the cover of platter number one: whole Cajun crabs...My mouth started to water. I lifted the covers from the rest of the platters and revealed filet mignon with truffle butter, grilled mixed vegetables, and chocolate molten lava cake with a side of vanilla bean ice cream.

The aromas of the hot food triggered an animalistic instinct inside of me that wanted to ditch the place settings and chair and just go to town on those platters, eating everything with my hands standing up. I didn't give into those urges...It wasn't ladylike. I pulled out the only chair at the table, sat down, and served myself a plate. Just a little bit of everything. Don't want to come off as a pig. As I began to eat, I peered at the blue water and watched as an island carrying buckets full of spa products floated on top. "Wow...This meal is delicious, and the view is lovely. Where are we?"

Kenneth stood next to the table. "We're in your imagination."

"So none of this is real?"

"It's real as long as you're imagining it."

"How does it work?"

"The room detects what you're thinking about and simulates that environment."

"Holy shit! It all feels so real." Another chair appeared at the table. "What was that?"

"I imagined myself a chair so I can sit with you." As Kenneth began to sit down, I imagined the chair was a pillow, and it changed instantly, causing Kenneth to fall backward.

I laughed as he changed the pillow back into a chair.

"That wasn't very nice." Another place setting appeared on the table, and Kenneth served himself a plate.

The sky quickly changed from day to night and became lit with the northern lights. Lines of purple, blue, green, yellow, red, and orange filled the sky, and when I looked beyond the colors, I could see the stars.

"So where are we, really?" I asked.

"We're in Iceland."

"That's not what I meant. Where is the imagination room in Walnut Cherryville?"

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you that. If I told you, you would tell other people, and then the room would become cluttered with thoughts. If there are too many people thinking at once, then the device will break."

"Does it display everything I'm thinking about?"

"I don't think so."

"How does it decide what to display and what not to, if I'm thinking about multiple things at once?"

"It uses an algorithm that breaks down your thoughts into percentages and displays the thought with the highest percentage of brain occupancy."

"Did you make this?"

"No, this room was made by a group of scientists some time ago," Kenneth explained.

I rubbed my tummy. "I'm so full," I said as my dress changed into a bikini. "Hey, I never said you could change my outfit!"

"Come on, let's jump off the dock," Kenneth said, grabbing me from my chair.

"Really?" I questioned as we walked to the edge. "We just ate. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you have to wait thirty minutes after you eat before swimming, or you'll get a tummy ache?"

Kenneth's outfit changed into swim trunks. "My mom never tells me things like that. That sounds silly," he said as he held my hand. "One, two, three...jump!" We jumped into the lagoon together.

The water was the perfect temperature. A floating lounge chair appeared, so I swam over to it and lay down. The island of spa products floated over to me as Kenneth swam up behind my chair. He placed cucumber slices over my eyes and painted my face with a warm mask that smelled like lavender and chamomile.

"Why are you doing this for me?" I asked.

"I just wanted to thank you for cooperating. Most people wouldn't have done what you did, but that just shows me that you could have a bright future here. You know, this is exactly what I think about when I'm in this room," he said as he oiled up his hands and massaged my scalp. "I don't get to spend time in here with company very often. It's nice, but it gets lonely."

"You're good with your hands." As Kenneth moved on to massaging my body with a nourishing scrub, I closed my eyes. Somehow, I forgot about everything that was going on, and my mind drifted back to high school...normal high school, not correctional high school.

* * *

I stood in the cafeteria lunch line, holding an empty tray as the line inched slowly to the servers. A lunch lady plopped a scoop of lumpy instant mashed potatoes on my plate before pouring a waterfall of brown gravy over it. "Do you have any leaner options?" I asked.

The server grinned with her fat, crumply face, told me to "move on," and yelled "next!"

I was shocked by her attitude. Mashed potatoes and gravy was high in carbs and fat, which wasn't good for a girl who's trying to watch her figure. I really needed to lose five pounds...I had some fat on my belly that I couldn't work off, and I had been doing sit-ups every day for two hours for the past week. My muscles burned, yet I still had a roll when I sat down! It was embarrassing, so I covered it up with my arms when I sat down in school, but it was difficult to hide the bulge in front of a client. Now that I wasn't the only one seeing my body naked on a regular basis, it was important for me to stay lean. In my first year of business, profits were good. My gifts totaled out to about $1,000 in cash value, but I expected the second year to be even better, which it was, by 300 percent.

The next server plopped a scoop of stuffing on my plate, followed by two slices of turkey and another waterfall of gravy.

When I reached the cash register, I grabbed a water bottle (because it was the leanest thing I could find) and paid for my lunch. How was I supposed to lose weight when school lunches were so darn fattening? My tummy rumbled as I walked away from the lunch line.

Sometimes I got so used to doing the same thing every day that it became a natural instinct. I walked to my usual table, which seemed empty because it was always empty, pulled out my usual chair, and gracefully sat down.

"Ouch," a girl said quietly from behind me, "excuse me."

What was that? I looked down and noticed that there was a tray full of food underneath mine. Something tapped me on the shoulder, and when I turned around, I realized that I accidently sat on the new girl in school. I didn't even see her.

"I'm so sorry," I said as I stood up. "Are you all right?"

The awkward girl straightened her round-rimmed glasses and pushed them further up her snout. "I'm all right," she said as she folded her arms across her chest, placing her hands underneath her armpits.

This was how I met project Emily. No one noticed Emily, but apparently she had existed in this school for over a month. Why was she suddenly sitting at the table that I used to sit at with clients to chat privately? Emily looked like she was about to cry, and I didn't want her to make a scene, so I sat down in the chair next to her instead of asking her to move. I lifted my tray off her lunch. "Sorry about your lunch," I said.

"Don't worry about it...It happens all the time," Emily said as she bit her nails.

"You shouldn't bite your nails." She paused and looked at me with one finger in her mouth. "When you bite your nails, you're damaging the nail beds. If you keep doing it, your nails will be deformed and dirty, and you won't be able to grow your nails long again."

Emily took her fingers out of her mouth. "Thanks for the tip."

"Where do you usually sit for lunch?"

"I don't have a usual spot; every day I sit somewhere different until someone tells me to move. I don't mean to be a bother; I can move if you want."

"No it's fine," I said. "There's plenty of room here."

The next day at lunch I found Emily sitting at my table alone again. I didn't understand why she came back. After I sat down at the table, hiding my bulge of course, a group of cheerleaders approached us and made a rude comment.

"What an unlikely duo, the whore of the school is sitting with the loser of the school." The cheerleaders laughed.

"Well, it's not my fault you can't satisfy your boyfriend. He came to me," I said.

"Oh no, she didn't!" another cheerleader blurted out.

"Unlike you, Laura, I'm saving myself for college!"

"Oh yeah, you told her, girl!"

"All right, posy squad, that's enough," I said. "Leave us alone and go cheer about your virginity elsewhere!"

The cheerleaders walked away, and Emily looked amazed.

"That was so cool," Emily said with a snort at the end. "You're so confident because you have a boyfriend, and you lost your virginity. I wish I was pretty enough to have a boyfriend."

"You are," I said, without thinking.

"Really???" she said excitedly. "I really like this guy named Todd who sits in front of me in my English class. He's so cute, and I've been trying to get him to notice me. Yesterday, he turned around in his desk, looked into my eyes, and passed me a take-home quiz. He said, 'Here you go,' and I said, 'Thank you.' My heart pounded so fast, I thought I was going to die. Can you help me? Can you help me get a date with Todd?"

Emily was so desperate, I felt bad for her, so I had to say yes. "Sure, I'll help you."

"Yes! Yes!" Emily shouted as she jumped out of her seat and ran into the hall.

How was I supposed to get Todd to go out with Emily? He was one of my clients. At first, I tried to do it very indirectly by changing Emily's look like my mother taught me. Her first homework assignment was to buy fake painted nails, contacts, a padded bra, and clothes that didn't advertise the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. When Emily got nervous and wanted to bite her nails, I told her to act like she was warming her hands in between her thighs while her legs were crossed. I did that all the time when my hands were cold. Nail biting was disgusting and turned people off.

Next, I sat with her in the hair salon and told the stylist to chop off her long brown hair and turn it into a bob with bangs. Finally, I touched up my finished product with some makeup while we practiced talking cool. Project Emily was fully functional and ready to go talk to Todd. Emily attempted to talk to Todd a few times, but it didn't really go anywhere. The best line she got was, "You look different today, Emily."

Despite all my efforts to make Emily look and feel confident and attractive, I highly doubted that Todd would agree to go out on a date with her. Todd was a jock, a football player, a young Tom Cruise, and Emily was...well, I was not sure what Emily was. Anyway, one night while I was servicing Todd, I may have bribed him to date Emily.

For some reason, I liked Emily, and I wanted to see her get what she wanted. I liked that she looked up to me and wanted my help. She wasn't like the other girls in school who called me a whore because they were jealous or angry. For some reason, girls generally hated me, but Emily didn't. Before I met Emily, I never had this much positive female attention from anyone else except my mother. Emily said I was "nice, caring, and helpful," which were the kindest words anyone had ever used to describe me. Todd agreed to go out on one dinner date with Emily to a small restaurant in another town if I gave him a free consultation. It was a done deal. I ate Todd's fee so Emily could go out on her first date.

Chapter 25: Collins

As eight o'clock in the morning approached, the hall became noisy with chitter-chatter and sneakers screeching across the floor. I rubbed my eyes, relieved that I had a good night's rest. The folded-up lab coats made a much more comfortable bed than the bare concrete floor in the Chair Trials holding cells. I stood up, brushed myself off, and checked to see if the paper clip was still attached before I stepped out into the chaotic hall.

Scientists flew past me in their white lab coats, carrying manila folders. They must have been heading toward the truck, which would probably leave soon. I followed the busy bees, who led me outside to a parking lot where a cargo truck and a school bus waited. As I waited in line to board the bus, a guard carried around a clipboard and constantly shouted at the scientists, who were all excited to go shopping for new toys.

"Quiet down. Everyone form a single-file line. All products from the last shipment that need to be returned should be placed in the cargo truck before you get in line. After you check in with the guard at the bus, you must sit in your assigned seat. No switching! The bus and truck will be leaving for the warehouse in five minutes."

"Name?" a guard asked me.

"Col-Albert Johnson," I said.

The guard scanned his list, marked me off on his clipboard, and moved on. When I hopped onto the bus, I saw nametags taped over the windows, so I searched for Johnson's seat. Johnson was assigned to sit in the back, next to someone named Robert Kelso. I took my seat and kept my head down until the bus started moving. It seemed like Robert Kelso was a no-show, so I got extra leg room. I turned my back to the window and propped my legs up on the seat, when I noticed a yellow sticker that read "keep your feet off the seats" placed on the back of the seat in front of me. I ripped the sticker off, folded it up, and tossed it on the floor. Just as the bus began to pull out of the parking lot, I saw a frail scientist with huge bifocal glasses, waving the bus down and running after it.

"Wait, wait for me," he yelled as his inventory list slipped out of his coffee-stained manila folder.

The bus driver hit the brakes, which caused the cargo truck to booty-bump the bus.

"Sorry I'm late," the scientist said as he hopped to the bus. He fumbled over everyone who sat near the aisle until he got to my seat.

I removed my feet from the seat cushion and tried not to make eye contact.

"Johnson," he said. "Good to see you. How are things going with your lady friend?"

Oh, great...Robert Kelso is an annoying klutz. The bus closed its doors once again and began to drive away. This time we made it out of the parking lot with no interruptions. After I answered Kelso's questions with simple, one-word answers like "good" for almost thirty minutes, the scientists started to play a road game. Each person looked out the window when it was their turn, picked an object outside, and had to name the periodic elements that created the object. I was still having trouble with chemistry, so hopefully we would reach the warehouse before it was my turn. Even if I could make better than a C in chemistry, I'd still look dumber than actual scientists who had been through college and grad school, and had doctorates and work experience. That was pretty much everyone on this bus except me.

"Sand," a woman started out. "Silicon dioxide."

It didn't take long for a bus full of scientists to rattle off what they knew. Twenty minutes later it was my turn, and I couldn't think of anything to say. "I'm not feeling well. Can I skip my turn?" Everyone insisted that I had to take my turn, so I gazed out the window looking for something someone else hadn't already said. "Air...oxygen and carbon dioxide."

The bus became awkwardly silent, and my eyes darted around, trying to read their faces. What was wrong?

"Are you sure you're not missing any elements, Johnson?" Kelso asked.

"Like I said, I'm really under the weather right now, and I'm not thinking clearly. What am I missing?"

"Air is composed of nitrogen, oxygen, argon, and carbon dioxide."

"Oh, thank you, my mistake," I said before they moved on to the scientist behind me.

"Do you need some Tylenol or Advil?" Kelso asked. "I have some in my lab coat somewhere." He started to search his pockets.

"No, thanks, I'll be fine." I banged my head against the window. That stupid game almost revealed my identity. What's the point of looking like Albert Johnson if I can't talk like Albert Johnson? I needed to pick his brain.

Two failed attempts at playing the game and four hours later, we arrived at the warehouse. The large white brick building was surrounded by a fence with signs that read "no trespassing." The bus driver stopped at the entrance of the gate and typed a code into the keypad. The gates opened, and he drove up to the front of the warehouse, parked the bus, and opened the doors.

I wanted to run out of the bus and hide somewhere because I made myself look stupid. I might have looked like Johnson, but I was sure someone was suspicious of me...How did a scientist's assistant forget the elements that made up air, clouds, and wood? It was so embarrassing, and there Kelso was, bragging about grass! "Grass is made of chlorophyll, cellulose, and water. The elements include carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen," I imagined Kelso saying in a nagging voice.

Hey, look at the upside...I've escaped Walnut Cherryville once again! How many people could say that they escaped Walnut Cherryville twice and live to tell about it? Not very many people and possibly only me. Now all I have to do is lose these scientist suckers.

Everyone shuffled off the bus and was given exactly one hour to collect the materials on their inventory lists from the warehouse. Like Walnut Cherryville, the warehouse was located in a secluded sandy area that was miles away from the nearest highway. Based on the road signs I saw during the drive, my best guess was that the warehouse was located somewhere around Kingman, Arizona.

When I entered the warehouse, I pretended to look through the aisles as I searched for a back door. The other scientists were prancing around the aisles, marking boxes like a bride-to-be making her registry list at Bed Bath & Beyond. All of a sudden, a crumpled yellow piece of paper came out of nowhere and hit my forehead. I picked the paper up off the floor, opened it, and read the note quietly to myself.

"Congratulations! You escaped death. Now I need your help. If you agree to help, then I will leave you alone and return you to your normal life. If you refuse to help, then you will return to Walnut Cherryville. Take your pick...Rip this paper once to help and twice to refuse." I had no idea what I was getting myself into or if I could even trust this yellow-paper pusher. I guessed I just had to do what they say and hope for the best. I ripped the paper once, and another crumpled yellow paper fell on my head. "It's about time we should meet. Go use the restroom." Well, I didn't really have to go yet...

"Hey, Kelso, where's the restroom?" I asked.

"Walk down this aisle to the back wall and turn left. Follow the back wall down to the end," Kelso answered. "I hope you're all right. You seem really forgetful today. You should see the doctor when we get back home."

Was he calling Walnut Cherryville home? That was crazy...He must have been part of the small percentage of people who actually wanted to live there. I followed Kelso's directions and found the restroom, which was a porta potty. When I opened the door, I saw another yellow note on the toilet seat that said "move the restroom." I closed the door and looked around to make sure no one was watching before I moved the porta potty away from the wall, which revealed a tall, skinny hole. The hole was rectangular-shaped, about six feet tall, and just wide enough for me to slip through if I entered it side first. There was a jump rope taped on to the back wall of the porta potty, which was tightly secured. After I slipped through the hole in the wall, I pulled the rope to move the porta potty back in place.

"Hello," a familiar voice said, startling me. It sounded like Johnny, but that wasn't possible because Johnny was dead. I turned around and saw Johnny sitting on a pile of white painted bricks. He looked good and healthy for a man who died from electrocution a few days ago.

"Ho-ho-holy shit," I stuttered. "You're alive...Johnny, is that really you?" I reached out and touched his face, and it felt warm and prickly.

"Come on, help me put these bricks back in place," Johnny said as he stood up and grabbed an armful of bricks. While he began to fill the hole with bricks, I stood frozen.

"How did you come back from the dead? Are you a zombie? Vampire? Werewolf?"

"Actually, I'm human, and I'm not really Johnny," he said, handing me some bricks. "Start stacking. We don't have much time."

I got down on my hands and knees and started stacking bricks. "Who are you, and why do you look like Johnny?"

"I look like Johnny for the same reason you look like Albert Johnson to the other scientists. To me, you look like Collins."

"How can you see my true identity when I'm wearing the paper clip?"

"That paper clip is actually called a perception filter. Perception filters change your appearance so that you look like someone else. I can see through your perception filter because I'm wearing antiperception contacts. These are all gadgets that were invented by the scientific wing of Walnut Cherryville."

"Who did you say you were again?"

"Well, if I wanted you to know, then I wouldn't be wearing a perception filter, but I can tell you that I'm a friend."

"How did you get the perception filters and contacts?"

"I stole it...Stealing things from Walnut Cherryville is easy when you know where to look." The brick wall was complete, and the Johnny imposter ran through the sand toward the fence. "Come on, follow me."

Once we reached the fence, he walked alongside it, intently searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"An opening."

"This fence wraps around the entire building. There isn't an opening."

"Well, that's what you see because your perception is limited," the fake Johnny said as he walked through the fence. "I found the opening. It's narrow, so you want to keep your hands to your side and step exactly where I stepped."

I placed my foot in his footprint and slowly inched toward the gate. I didn't see an opening.

"Keep your body straight, and don't bend your knees. If you touch the gate, then an alarm will sound, and we'll get caught. You're doing good; keep going."

I took five small steps to the left, and suddenly I appeared on the other side of the fence. We walked the dirt roads until we found an abandoned car with the keys still in it. Fake Johnny seemed to recognize the car and claimed that it belonged to a friend. I hopped in the passenger seat, and Johnny took the wheel. Within an hour we found ourselves on the highway, heading back to civilization.

"I don't understand," I said. "If you have all these resources, why are you bothering to help me? Why didn't you just escape from Walnut Cherryville and never look back?"

"That would be irresponsible, and it wouldn't work as you already saw when you and your friends escaped. You can't solve all your problems by putting a Band-Aid on them and walking away. The only way to be free is to get rid of the problem at its source."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying, Collins."

"Are you suggesting that we take down Walnut Cherryville?"

"All I'm saying is that you and your friends and everyone in Walnut Cherryville are a part of something bigger and more significant than the sum of your individual lives."

"And what is that?"

"That's something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. All I can tell you is that if you stick with me, I promise you it will be in your best interest."

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice. Whether you realize it or not, you already chose a side."

"I don't understand what you're trying to do or why you even need me. You were at my school, sending me yellow papers, so back then you were trying to recapture me, and now you're helping me escape?"

"From the minute you five left Walnut Cherryville, the secret watchers were notified, and they were all looking for you. I tried to get to the school before they did so I could warn you, but there wasn't enough time. You'll know what your purpose is soon enough."

"I just have to say that I'm kind of annoyed at you for taunting me with those yellow papers. Instead of writing a clear note and telling me I needed to leave the school, you wasted time and drew a series of pictures. I sat there like an idiot trying to figure out what they meant instead of using that time to escape."

"Just be thankful that you're alive, and stop complaining about things you don't understand," Johnny said as he took the Phoenix exit off the highway.

"What do the drawings on the courthouse mean?"

"They mean something different to everyone that looks at them. It's like when you open a fortune cookie, and the fortune inside has a generalized statement like, 'A thrilling time is in store for you.' All it did was tell you what to think about, which consequently raises more questions."

"Have you found meaning in the drawings?"

"Yes, I have, but it's personal, so I can't tell you what I saw." Johnny pulled into a parking garage and parked the car. "This is your stop." He reached in the backseat and handed me a backpack. "This bag has everything you will need for your mission. The first thing you should do is go into the apartment and review the items and information in the bag. The key is in the bag, and the apartment number you're looking for is 307."

"OK," I said, slightly confused. I got out of the car and put the backpack on.

"Good luck," Johnny said before he drove away.

After climbing three flights of steps, I found the apartment and unlocked the door. It was a small studio apartment that was unfurnished, and it seemed like no one was permanently living there. I walked into the living room/bedroom or whatever it was, and dropped my backpack on the carpet next to the sleeping bag before I took a look around. The pillow and sleeping bag that was rolled out on the carpet looked exactly the same as the ones we slept on in Walnut Cherryville. Underneath the pillow was a pile of copies of the drawings on the courthouse. Maybe the Johnny imposter didn't waste time redrawing the pictures every time he needed to taunt somebody. At least he was smart enough to make copies.

Since there was nothing else to see in this room, I moved on to the kitchen to get some grub. All I saw in the refrigerator was a bunch of leftover Chinese food. Not sure what it was or how old it was, but it still smelled like food, so it must have been edible. I looked around for a bowl and silverware, but couldn't find anything. The best thing I could find was a plastic cutlery packet on the empty counter, so I tore it open and dug into some vegetable mixture with brown sauce.

As I ate, I walked to the bathroom. Interestingly enough, there were clues in the bathroom that told me that Johnny was actually a woman...and possibly a very hot one. The first sign of a woman living in an apartment was the presence of hand soap in the bathroom. Women always washed their hands with soap; men didn't bother unless something got on them, and even then, we rarely used soap. The second clue was the hair shampoo, conditioner, and body soap in the shower...all girl brands. The last clue was the clothes in the cabinet underneath the sink. When I opened the cabinet, I found a pair of red silk panties on the top of the pile, so I examined them by testing their elasticity (slightly stretchy), size (small), and smell (dirty). I put the dirty panties back in the cabinet and unraveled a pair of jeans, blouse, and bra from the pile.

Everything seemed kind of small and short. She could still be hot, but not bangin'. I appreciated women of all different shapes and sizes, but my favorite kind of woman was a curvy, tall woman with some double Ds...Now that's bangin'! I put the clothes back in the cabinet, returned to the living room, and dumped the contents of the backpack out on the carpet. All that was in there was an unlabeled tube of lotion, $300 in cash, a list of forty grocery stores with their addresses, and instructions written on yellow paper.

Collins,

Pretend you are a common shopper in a grocery store, looking for good produce. To hide your identity, keep your perception filter on so the secret watchers can't detect you. Use the money to pay for cabs that will take you to each grocery store on the list. There is a payphone and phonebook near the bus stop located on Bear Street (one block east of here).

This next part is extremely important to remember: after you enter the store and you are in the produce department, rub the lotion on your hands. You will only need a nickel-sized amount for each use. Do not put your hands near your eyes or mouth while the lotion is on your skin. While in the produce department, only touch the produce with the Walnut Cherryville Farms labels and nothing else. Be careful not to bruise the produce. For produce like berries, you will have to open the plastic package and touch the produce inside. Do not use the money to purchase any food while you're on your mission. Before leaving each store, you should wash your hands with soap and water in the bathroom to prevent the spread of contamination. When you're done with your mission, return to the apartment. Good luck!

I crumpled up the note and returned it to the backpack. This was what the yellow-paper pusher needed me for? How was contaminating innocent people that have nothing to do with Walnut Cherryville revolutionary? What the hell was in this mysterious lotion? I unscrewed the cap, squeezed the tube slightly and took a waft from a distance. It smelled like shit...literally. If this lotion was made of fecal matter, then why was it creamy and white? I couldn't think of any fecal matter that would be white unless she bleached it, and who knew what kind of chemical reaction that would make. Unless...it was made from bird poop. Eww! I dropped the open tube on the floor just as Johnny entered the apartment.

"Collins, you're still here," Johnny said, "I expected you'd be gone, doing your mission by now."

"Yeah, about that...I don't think I can do it."

"Why not?"

"You're asking me to contaminate produce that will make innocent people sick and possibly die. I don't know exactly what's in that lotion, but if it's what I think it is, then you're trying to induce an outbreak of E. coli and for what? How is contaminating fruit going to affect Walnut Cherryville at all?"

"Look, Collins, I know this sounds bad, but it's not. Your mission will make few sick, but it will save thousands. Think about it this way: Walnut Cherryville is a fire, and a fire will die out if you cut off its oxygen flow. The purpose of this mission is to create bad publicity for Walnut Cherryville Farms so people stop buying the products. Once everyone gets word of the outbreak, the stores will pull the produce off the shelves, and the USDA will investigate. If the plan works correctly, then the Quinton family should be shivering in their boots due to lack of cash flow. Without cash, the Quintons won't be able to buy the resources they need to run Walnut Cherryville, like food, water, and supplies; thus, people will stop working and start thinking.

"The only way to fix bad publicity is with good publicity, forcing the Quinton family to expose themselves to the world in an attempt to regain the consumers' trust and convince them that their products are safe. But we're not going to let that happen. You and several others will continue contaminating the produce until Walnut Cherryville is snuffed out! Everyone will finally work together, rise against the government, kill the authority, and be free to live our lives as we want to. Now that you know the grand plan, will you continue your mission?"

"How long am I going to have to do this for? It seems like your plan could take at least a year or more to work."

"I can't give you a definitive answer, but I promise you that your life will get back to normal soon enough. Everyone needs your help."

"Are you sure there isn't another way? It seems like a lot of people will get hurt in the process because you're contaminating some and then starving and dehydrating others. How strong do you think your army will be without food and water?"

"They'll be fine, and mostly everyone will survive...You have to trust me. The government will hoard all the food and water for themselves, so people will be encouraged by their hunger to fight against the government for food and water and then eventually their freedom."

"I guess that makes sense, but is there anything you can do to help my friends who are fighting for their lives in Chair Trials right now?"

"I don't want to make any promises, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks...I'll start my mission now."

About thirty minutes later, I arrived at the first grocery store. I walked into the produce department and rubbed the lotion on my hands like instructed. The time was about five o'clock in the afternoon, and the store was crawling with mothers and their children. I stood in front of the mango stand and reached for the mangos, but for some reason my hand shook with hesitation. A mother with three hyper kids pushed her cart toward me as she spoke to her husband on her cellphone. The youngest was a little girl, who sat in the shopping cart, clapping and giggling as she kicked her mom playfully. The older kids, two boys who looked like twins, chased each other around the mango stand, playing tag.

"Excuse me one second, settle down, boys," Mom said. "Emma, please stop kicking mommy."

All of a sudden, one of the boys rammed into the mango cart, and some of the mangos started to fall to the floor. Without thinking, I caught them and placed them back on the top of the pile.

"Ron and Don, you stop horsing around this instant! I'm so sorry, sir," she said as she grabbed a mango and placed it into her cart.

My eyes locked on the mango as she pushed her cart away into the deli. I wanted to say "Wait, don't eat that,", but the words were stuck in my mouth. There was no use in trying to stop her; I had to do this. It would be easier for me to complete my mission if I didn't have to see the victims I was hurting. Another little boy ran past me, tripped on his shoelace, and started crying frantically. His mother rushed over, hugged him, and wiped his tears away. Watching the mother take care of her son reminded me of how much I missed my parents.

Everything was so much easier back then when my parents were alive. I wasn't really responsible for anything or anyone, and I could sit back, relax, and enjoy being a kid. I didn't know how much I took my parents for granted until I lost them, and I quickly realized that it was the little things they did for me that I missed the most.

* * *

When my dad taught me how to ride a bike, the first time he took the training wheels off, I fell and scraped my knee pretty badly. As I cried, he took me into the house, cleaned the scrape, and put a silly Band-Aid on it. Once I felt better, he encouraged me to try to ride my bike again, even though I was afraid. I didn't want to try something new, I just wanted to ride my bike with training wheels or not at all, but Dad wouldn't let me use the training wheels anymore. He took them away and put them on the highest shelf in the garage. When I asked him why he did that, he said if I kept using them, I wouldn't grow up to be a big boy and that only big boys get ice cream cones. I took that statement literally and thought that using the training wheels was preventing me from growing tall, which caused me not to be able to reach the ice cream cones. I practiced riding my bike with my dad every afternoon, enduring cuts and scrapes until I could ride around the neighborhood without falling. That was how Dad taught me important life lessons...

A week later, I was able to ride my bike to the ice cream truck, but I wasn't able to buy an ice cream cone even though I could reach it, because I didn't have any cash. When I asked my dad for some cash, he introduced me to my next life lesson...One bike stroll, a lemonade stand, and five dollars in quarters later, I was able to reach and buy myself an ice cream cone!

Unlike my dad, my mom didn't feel like everything she helped me with needed to teach me a lesson. Every school night, after she helped me finish my homework, my mom would organize my backpack to make sure I had everything I needed for school the next day. In elementary and middle school, I was always losing things, especially my homework. I was that kid who told his teacher that his dog ate his homework, his homework accidently blew away with the wind, or that his homework suddenly burst into flames. Sometimes I'd even misplace my shoes if my parents didn't tie them tightly on my feet. Despite how forgetful I was, I knew where my lunchbox was located at all times, because lunchtime was my favorite time of day. Mom always packed me a ham and cheese or peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, which was sliced into two triangles with the crusts neatly cut off. She'd also throw in a fruit punch juice box, a fruit like a clementine or a mini apple, and a homemade dessert like a chocolate chip cookie or a brownie. I'd sit through my boring classes all day, dreaming about what was in my lunchbox. Whatever it was, all the other kids were always jealous and wanted to trade, but I never traded my lunch with anybody.

Contaminating this fruit could possibly take a mother or father away from their child, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone, even the meanest kid in school. How could I do this? Who would teach a boy to learn how to ride a bike if he didn't have a father? Who would pack his lunchbox and backpack if he didn't have a mother? I ran to the bathroom, washed my hands with soap and water and returned to the cab. I didn't know how I'd explain this to the Johnny imposter, but I was sure I could find a way to get her to understand.

After the cab dropped me off at the apartment, I explained to the Johnny imposter why I didn't contaminate the fruit; but for some strange reason, the conversation didn't go as well as I thought it would.

"I only asked you to do one simple, little thing, and you managed to fuck it up," Johnny shouted. "People in Walnut Cherryville are suffering and dying because of you!"

"That's no reason to harm innocent families with children," I said. "There has to be another way."

"This is the only way, and that's what you don't understand, Collins! If you refuse to complete the assignment, then I have no choice but to send you back to Walnut Cherryville, where you will certainly die."

"Why can't you just give me another assignment that doesn't involve harming children?"

"It's my responsibility to make sure that you complete this assignment. You have one last chance to do it, or I'm taking you back. We're going to go into the stores together, and I will help you contaminate the produce. Maybe you'll actually do it this time if someone's watching."

"Seriously?" I muttered. "This is fucking ridiculous."

The Johnny imposter grabbed his backpack, and I followed him out the door before he locked the apartment, went downstairs, and called a new cab on the payphone. He paced back and forth on the sidewalk as we waited for the cab to arrive while I sat watching him on the bench. Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to the sidewalk, and he held the door open for me. I rolled my eyes and sighed, baffled by the fact that all my pleading didn't make the Johnny imposter have a change of heart.

He, or she, I should say, was a soulless creature who didn't care if children had parents! Maybe once she went into the store and saw all the children and families for herself, then maybe she'd change her mind. I regretfully went into the cab and shut the door. If I let this happen, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to forgive myself. I wondered what my parents were thinking right now as they were looking down at me from heaven. Maybe I should have given up on trying to change her mind and instead gone back to Walnut Cherryville? On the other hand, it didn't matter if I contaminated the produce or not because there were already several other people who were doing it in different places.

The cab pulled over across the street from Gordon's Groceries because there was construction blocking the entrance to the parking lot. As Johnny paid the cab driver, he told us to walk across the street and cut through the grass. I guess he was too lazy to find the other entrance. Johnny and I both got out of the cab and shut the doors. As I walked behind the cab, I heard a long honking sound and saw a car speeding toward Johnny, who was a deer in the headlights. Within seconds, the car ran over Johnny and sped through a traffic light, causing a collision at the intersection behind us.

When I rushed over to help him, I saw Amy Chang lying in a puddle of blood, unconscious. The Johnny imposter, yellow-paper pusher was Amy Chang??? I would have never guessed. I heard the cab driver calling the police on his cell phone and suddenly realized that I had a small window of opportunity to run away. I quickly snatched Amy Chang's perception filter from the pavement and bolted away from the scene of the crime as fast as I could.

"Wait, you need to stay here! Come back," the cab driver yelled out the window.

I ignored him and kept running with my heart pounding fast and the wind blowing against my face: the fastest sprint I had ever done. The hit-and-run on Amy Chang was an act of God, freeing me from anything related to Walnut Cherryville. Everyone always says the third time's a charm...Hopefully my third escape would be just that. No one would force Collins Greene to do anything he didn't want to do anymore! If I wanted to help, I would do it on my own terms. This time, I was going to make sure that they never found me again. The secret watchers, Amy Chang, and the whole fucking universe...they could watch my ass run away.

Chapter 26: Vincent

Since Collins escaped and Laura blabbed, Kenneth's five consecutive episodes of live audience Chair Trials were ruined, because now only two contestants remained in the game. I wasn't sure what was going to happen...The day Laura made a deal with Kenneth was the day I thought Veronica and I were going to die, but that never happened.

Instead, nothing happened at all. I sat in my cage for two days, counting bricks and playing she loves me, she loves me not. Unfortunately, there were an uneven number of bricks in my cell, so it was decided that Laura didn't love me unless I disqualified the half brick for not being a full brick. Was a brick still a brick if it was not a full brick? Should I still count it if it was located between a geographically gray area that was partially in my cell and partially in Veronica's? These were the questions I pondered about during my spare time. One might argue for the brick because it was made out of the same elements as the other bricks, and it could still be seen in my cell; thus, it took part in supporting the structure. But was that brick really needed? If I were to remove it somehow, would the structure still stand? I imagined that this brick had little importance or influence on the entire wall, so the structure would remain sturdy if that one brick was removed.

I could find more arguments against counting the brick. One, for example, was that the half brick didn't have the same mass or weight as the other full bricks. It also was not aligned in the same way as the other bricks. The half brick had its square side facing me, instead of its rectangular side. I eventually decided that my definition of a brick that was qualified for my game was a brick with equal mass, weight, proximity, and materials; therefore, the half brick was disqualified, and Laura did love me!

As much as I wanted to think a silly girl's game could determine whether or not Laura loved me, I knew it wasn't true. She told me she didn't know if she'd ever love me, and that initially hurt my feelings, but I had to remember that girls never really knew what they wanted when it came to relationships. On the other hand, Laura wasn't like most girls. If she had a bucket list for the perfect life, then she probably had a bucket list for the perfect boyfriend. As her HIV advanced, she'd have less time to waste on being indecisive. I was sure she would miss me sooner or later but hopefully, sooner rather than later.

During the two days that I spent alone with my thoughts, the guards occasionally dropped off some food and a change of clothes. The outfit they gave me yesterday was kind of strange, and I was ordered to wear it today. On the front of the white T-shirt were five plastic chairs arranged in a zigzag line. Each chair was a different color, and the order from left to right was light blue, yellow, black, green, and red. Below the image, black text read "C.Tog 2012," and the text on the back of the shirt read "Vincent, C.Tog Participant." The weird shirt was accompanied by a pair of orange sweat pants with the Walnut Cherryville logo printed across the butt.

Two days later, I found out that "C.Tog" was an abbreviation for Chair Trials Olympic Games and that Veronica and I were the only participants. The games would last for a day, and by sundown, the contestant with the highest combined score from all games would get to choose how they wanted to die, by electric chair or stoning.

Nine o'clock: Opening Ceremony

The red curtain opened to a symphony of noise, and the audience, who all wore "I was at C.Tog" T-shirts, stood up, applauding. Two guards from both the left and the right side of the stage marched in with metal trash cans strapped to their chests, banging out a repetitive beat with their hands. Three more guards entered the stage, blowing whistles, which sounded like the Olympic theme song. When the song ended, Kenneth walked on to the stage, wearing a shiny golden suit, and grabbed the microphone.

"Hello, citizens of Walnut Cherryville, welcome to the first-ever Chair Trials Olympic Games!"

The audience cheered and jumped from their seats with excitement.

"Now unfortunately, I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want to hear first?" Kenneth asked.

Everyone in the audience shouted at once: some saying "good" and some saying "bad."

"I'm going to tell you the bad news first. The bad news is that one of our Chair Trials contestants, Collins, has betrayed you again by abandoning the village, which ruined the live audience, five-show Chair Trials event."

"Boo!" the audience yelled.

"But don't worry; Kenneth never disappoints! I always have a few tricks up my sleeve, and this one is even better than the last one. Everyone who applied and received tickets for the Chair Trials event through ComCon will still be able to see a live show. We have two contestants left, and they will compete against each other in a series of games for your entertainment!"

The audience cheered as the guards pushed Veronica and me on to the stage. Two other guards brought out plastic chairs and rope, and they assisted with tying us down to the chairs while Kenneth introduced us.

"This is Veronica and Vincent, but you already know them. They will be competing in the following games: Walnuts to Walnuts, Shot Put Grits, Operation, and Sand Wrestling. I haven't told you about the good news yet...I've met someone. This woman is not only beautiful but special. She's perfect in every way, and she has recently proven that her true loyalty lies with me and this village. Can you come out here, hunnie?"

As the guards strapped me down, I looked to my right and watched the backstage curtain slowly open, revealing Laura, and my heart dropped out of my chest. Why is she here? What was going on? What did Kenneth mean by, "I met someone" when he already knew Laura before this?

For a moment, all I could see was her stepping toward me in slow motion, wearing a stunning floral sundress surrounded by beams of sunlight. Her hips swayed as she walked, and I felt her gaze into my eyes as the sound of her heels hitting the wood floor amplified over the roar of the crowd. She looked stunning and clean with her hair washed, blown dry, and perfectly set to frame her face. She was even wearing makeup, and I could smell her lavender vanilla perfume as she walked past me and stood next to Kenneth.

"Boo!" the audience shouted.

"I know she was supposed to compete in Chair Trials, but she has immunity because she is helping us find Collins. Please listen to her apology," Kenneth said, trying to calm the audience down.

The audience quickly settled down, and Laura cleared her throat. "I'm sorry for abandoning the village...I don't know what I was thinking. I realize my mistake now, and it won't happen again. The people of Walnut Cherryville are my family, and I apologize for ever doubting that. I hope one day that you all can find forgiveness in your hearts and open your arms as I rejoin the family."

Kenneth and Laura turned to face each other. He pulled two small velvety boxes out of his pocket and gave the dark blue box to her. She looked down at it, brushed her hand against the velvet, and dropped down to one knee in a kneeling position. As she opened the box, revealing an engagement ring, the crowd gasped.

"Kenneth, as we grow old together, I will learn to love you forever. Will you marry me?" Laura proposed.

"No, Laura!" I shouted. "What are you doing?" My heart pounded in my chest as my face heated and tears ran down my cheek. I didn't want to cry in front of anyone, but I couldn't hold the pain in any longer. The emotional pain hurt more than the time I jumped off a building and smashed into the concrete: the worst physical pain I've ever endured. My chair rattled as I tried to break the restraints.

She turned to me and mouthed the words "I'm sorry" before Kenneth grabbed her in a lip lock.

After what felt like the longest kiss ever, he said, "I do," opened the red velvet box, and slipped a diamond ring on her finger. While holding hands, they turned to face the crowd and waved at the cheering audience.

What a surprisingly unexpected opening ceremony...

"Vincent," Veronica whispered, "don't let it bother you. Laura marrying Kenneth says nothing about how she feels about you; it's just the price she pays for making deals with Kenneth."

Why did he want her? There were plenty of other women in Walnut Cherryville he could marry; why did it have to be Laura? I was going to fucking punch him right between his two front teeth, bury his head in the sand, and have people line up to kick his flailing ass. I had to get her back...even if it was the last thing I did before I died.

Eleven o'clock: Walnuts to Walnuts

Location: Chair Trials Studio Stage

"Welcome to the game of crazy comparisons," a guard announced on the microphone. "The objective of the game is to see which contestant can make Kenneth, the judge, laugh the most. Kenneth will start the game by shuffling a deck of noun cards face down and distributing seven cards to each player. Next, he will place an adjective card on the table facing up before his chair is turned around. During this time, each contestant will place a noun card on the adjective card face down. The judge will flip the deck and decide who wins each round based on which comparison made him laugh the most. Whichever contestant wins more rounds wins the entire game. Here are the rules: no one can see each other's noun cards. The judge can't watch as the contestants place down their noun cards. The contestants must place their noun cards over the adjective card, or it will be disqualified. OK, that's it for the housekeeping; let's start the game!"

I sat at a small, round wooden table across from Veronica but next to Kenneth, who shuffled and distributed seven cards to each of us. The guards freed my hands so I could play the game, but my body remained tied to the plastic chair. On the back of each noun card was a red background with an image of two animated walnuts, one with an overexaggerated happy face and the other with an overexaggerated sad face. Both walnut characters had stick-figure-like arms, hands, legs, and feet. Kenneth flipped over a green adjective card and turned around.

"The first adjective is flirtatious, meaning forward, saucy, or brazen," the guard said.

I looked at the cards in my hand. I had shower coins, skeletons, the Banded Gila Monster, abandonment, a dust storm, gatherers, and the Grand Canyon. I didn't think any of these were particularly funny, but I was in no mood to laugh right then after what happened in the opening ceremony.

The guard inched behind Veronica to get a peek at her cards, but she moved them away before he could announce what she had. "It's going to be a tight race, folks," he commented.

I threw the skeletons card into the ring...didn't care if it won.

Veronica put her card on top, and Kenneth turned around to judge the first round.

"So it's skeletons versus Mama from laundry services," Kenneth chuckled. "The winner is Mama!"

"Veronica won the first point in the game, and she's already off to a great lead," the guard announced as he put the microphone next to my mouth. "How do you feel about that, Vincent?"

"I don't care," I said plainly.

"And he is unshaken by Veronica's madness! That was a good play, oh, yes it was!"

After seven rounds of this ridiculous game, the scoreboard read:

Somehow, magically I won the game without even trying. I was rewarded with a tiny gold medal pinned on to my shirt. The medal had a walnut engraved into it.

One o'clock: Shot Put Grits

Location: outside about fifty yards away from the Chair Trials Studio

"It's a beautiful day out here in Walnut Cherryville, perfect for a game of Shot Put Grits," the guard announced as the live audience gathered around. "Now, we've got twenty boxes of instant grits piled up here in the sand, and each contestant gets ten tries to throw the boxes into the grates on the walls of the Chair Trials building. If the box makes it into the grate without exploding, then the contestant gets a point. The contestant with the most points wins the game. All boxes that explode on impact with the grate or fall in the sand will be disqualified. Billy-Bob, one of our lovely guards, will be the judge of this competition and is sitting on top of the Chair Trials building. Wave hi, Billy-Bob!"

The guard waved to Billy-Bob, and Billy-Bob waved back. "Each contestant must throw his or her box on their turn from behind the line drawn in the sand. If the contestant crosses the line before the box leaves their hands, then the contestant will skip their turn. Vincent, Veronica, how are you feeling about this game?"

Veronica and I stood silently for a minute until I said, "No comment."

"And that proves it, folks; the contestants are no fun at all. Kenneth, tell me why you decided to shot put grits instead of some other kind of food or object?"

"Grits are disgusting, and they don't deserve to be on a plate with eggs, bacon, or any other breakfast foods," Kenneth said. "As you know, my mother, the governor, is from the south, and she loves grits. When I was a boy growing up, Mom wouldn't let me leave the breakfast table unless I finished all my grits, and I told her countless times that I hated grits, but she still made me eat them anyway. When I become governor, I'm going to abolish grits from Walnut Cherryville, so she can't make me eat them anymore!"

"Sir, please don't abolish grits; cheesy grits are delicious."

Kenneth looked at the guard with an evil stare until the guard became nervous and stepped away.

"The contestants are ready, and Veronica will shot put the first box of grits...Why did it have to be grits," he sighed.

Veronica picked up a box, stood behind the line, and threw the box at the Chair Trials building. Everyone watched the box as it summersaulted in the air, hit Billy-Bob's head, and landed into the highest grate on the building. Billy-Bob rubbed his head as he looked down into the grate and gave a thumbs-up signal. The audience clapped and cheered.

"And the first point goes to Veronica," the guard announced. "Vincent, it's your turn!"

"Shit," I mumbled as I picked up a box of grits and stood behind the line. How the hell did she throw it that far? I concentrated really hard and blocked the cheering crowd out of my mind as I aimed for the building. The grates protruding from the wall were hardly detectable from this distance, which would make it difficult to score. I threw the box as hard as I could, but it fell in the sand and never reached the Chair Trials building.

"And Vincent throws a dud!" the guard announced.

Veronica stepped behind the line, threw her second box, and hit Billy-Bob in the head again! As he looked down into the grate, his body became wobbly as if he was dizzy, and he suddenly fell off the roof. Everyone gasped as he rolled down the pyramid building, leaving a trail of blood and appendages dangling from the grates.

"It's OK," Kenneth said. "Let the games continue."

"But Billy-Bob could be dead," the guard said. "We should get him to the medical wing because it looks like he lost a lot of blood."

"We'll get someone to clean that up. If he survived the fall, he'd push his medical button."

"But, sir, his arms were severed by the grates—"

"Instead of whining about something you can't fix, call in another guard to get up on that roof and continue judging the competition!"

"Yes, sir," the guard sighed.

"What is the meaning of this?" An older woman with a firm voice said from behind us.

Everyone turned around, gasped, and took a step back.

"Mom," Kenneth said, surprised. "What are you doing out here...I-I wasn't expecting you."

"This is counterproductive, and I never approved any of this! Why is there a dead man smeared across the Chair Trials building, and what are you doing with all those grits?"

"It's an execution, Mom; the guard just fell off the building while he was judging the competition because a box of grits hit him in the head...twice," Kenneth replied nervously.

"You killed a guard during another one of your silly games? What's wrong with you? As government officials, we don't just go running around playing games, wasting food, and killing people by accident! This is not a proper execution," his mom said sternly before she slapped Kenneth across the face. She reached into the pocket of her sunflower dress and pushed her red medical button. "I want all this cleaned up, the grits go back in the kitchen, and everyone will return to work right now!"

As the crowd walked away, Veronica and I headed after them.

"But, Mom, what about the execution?" Kenneth whined. "Those two abandoned the village, and now they're trying to run away again."

"You want to see an execution...This is how we do a proper execution!"

A gunshot fired, and I saw Veronica suddenly bleed out from her stomach before she tripped forward into the sand. As I turned around, a bullet lodged into my shoulder, and I fell on my back. While I groaned in pain, the print of Governor Quinton's sunflower dress engrained in my mind and haunted it every time I closed my eyes. When I blinked, I saw images of sunflowers alternate between images of Kenneth walking toward me. All of a sudden, Kenneth stopped in his tracks when his mom said, "Leave them to rot in the sun; let's go." He turned back and followed his mom into the glass building.

With my eyes closed and chest panting, I put pressure on my shoulder, using my free hand to slow down the bleeding. After several seconds, the sunflowers in my mind disintegrated into the dark depths of blackness. I opened my eyes again and saw Veronica vomiting blood...I could taste a little of it myself. I failed...I failed Laura, and now she was stuck marrying a mad man, who was whipped by his mom while I baked in the sun and bled. "Are...are you all right?" I mumbled to Veronica before I passed out.

* * *

By the end of my first year at Sonoran Correctional, my so-called lack of attendance and irrational behavior were problems that my counselor and teachers wanted resolved; if that didn't happen soon, then the principal was going to call my parents in for a conference. Normally, teenagers like Collins, who were sentenced here by the court, got financial aid and a considerable discount on the yearly rate, but teenagers like me, who were enrolled here by their parents, had to pay the full price, which was a whopping $40,000 per year (this included tuition, room and board, food, books, and other fees).

Counselor Hank was tired of me lying on his couch, tearing up pieces of paper, and rolling them between my fingers while I lied to him about how I felt. By the end of my counseling session, his floor was spotted with paper balls flicked in every direction, and his notepad revealed nothing but contradictions. I pretty much answered every question he asked with whatever lie I could make up on the spot. One day, Hank became so frustrated with me that he snatched the paper out of my hands, and as a result I didn't talk at all. My silence was killing him, so he gave the paper back to me, and the first thing I did was flick a paper ball at his face.

The next counseling session began with Hank calling my parents and telling them about how bad my behavior was and how I wouldn't cooperate during counseling.

Their response to me was, "Vincent, we pay a lot of money every year for you to go to this school, and we expect results. You will not return home until you are healthy. Every time we receive a bad report or grade from the school, we will sell one electronic item in your room, and we know you have a lot of them. Consider this your first warning...Do it again, and your laptop is the first thing we sell."

Noooooo! Not my laptop...I've got all my camera footage saved on there! I never said I wanted to go to this stupid, expensive school...Why the hell did my parents have to fuck up my life like this?

Every class I had during my first year of correctional school was so boring that I could barely stand to keep my attendance rate above 50 percent. Instead of going to geometry, I slept on the floor in the fetal position underneath the water fountains in main hall. Usually around the hour of when I had English, the scruffy janitor would come around and sweep the floors. When he finished sweeping main hall, we'd go into the janitor's closet for a smoke and small talk, where he told me stories about how he used to play lead guitar in a rock band. Apparently his addiction to drugs and pussy were his ultimate downfall, which led him to go to rehab before he was reborn as a janitor. I spent a lot of time in detention back then...always getting written up for something.

When I did attend classes, I never took notes or paid attention to the lectures. If I happened to show up on a day there was a test, I circled any answer if the test was multiple choice, doodled in the space allotted for short answers, and wrote poems in the space for paragraphs. This was how it was for every class except my favorite elective, computer science, which was the only class I actually enjoyed giving 100 percent attendance to. For that class, I always listened to the lectures, did my homework, and put in a little extra, which paid off when final report cards were due to be mailed to parents.

I knew that I couldn't let my parents see my report card as it was because they'd sell my entire room and rent it out to someone, so something had to be done to change it. Besides earning an A in computer science, I learned a lot about computer hacking, so I decided to hack my way into the system and change my grades.

Once the teachers submitted the final grades, only the principal was allowed to change it officially in the system. With a little Dumpster-diving, Internet searches, and algorithm work, I was able to find out the principal's password and guess the answers to his security questions within two days. The password was RedTie3413. Principal Brock went to Clifton High School, Mittens was the name of his first pet, and Thompson was his mother's maiden name...so easy. I cracked all the codes, found my grades, and changed the classes I didn't pass to a C. My GPA magically increased from a 1.2 to a 2.0 in seconds. I didn't want to go crazy and give myself all As because then it would be too noticeable that someone tampered with the grades. I just needed to bring my average high enough so it was barely passing.

When my parents saw my report card, they were proud of me. They always knew I was smart and had the ability to do well in school but just didn't have the drive. They figured that Sonoran Correctional had straightened me out and showed me why I needed to care about my studies. Everyone in school was surprised I passed the tenth grade, and I kept them guessing about how I did it. That was a secret I'd never tell anyone. Some students congratulated me because they thought I had sex with my teachers. If that were the case, they must also have thought I was bisexual, since not all my teachers were ladies. Many believed, like with Kat's death, that my parents had something to do with it. I heard rumors floating around the cafeteria about how my parents were large contributors to the institute and that they bribed the school into changing my grades. People who believed that rumor thought I was a rich prick who got everything he wanted, so they showed they resented me by knocking my books down, slipping angry rants into my locker, and shoving me in the halls. The fact that I passed tenth grade made even Collins upset.

One morning Johnny, Collins, and I were getting dressed in the locker room, when, out of nowhere, Collins just exploded with antagonism.

"You know what really makes me upset," Collins announced as he opened his locker, "are people who make good grades without trying or even bothering to show up to classes."

I rolled my eyes...Here we go again, another hater.

"I know you cheated," Collins continued as he sprayed himself with Axe. "I don't know how, but I know that there is no possible way you could have passed without cheating because I was in half your classes! You never showed up to most of them, and when you did you reeked of cigarettes."

"I'm sorry the fact that I'm naturally smart upsets you, Collins," I replied as I zipped up my black skinny jeans. "Next year, I'll try to be more stupid so you can feel better about yourself."

"Fuck you," Collins said before he pushed me against the locker.

Johnny quickly grabbed Collins's arms and held him back so the raging bull couldn't use me as his punching bag. "Hey, guys, settle down!"

"Did you hear what he just said to me?" Collins asked Johnny.

"Yes, I heard, and Vincent, that was very inappropriate."

"I wanna kill this motherfucker!"

"Collins, you don't want to kill anyone...You know you can't let a teacher hear you say that in school."

"I'm not joking, Johnny; I'm sick of him! The next chance I get, I'm gonna kill him!"

"What are you going to do? Pop a cap in my ass or put rat poison in my water?" I blurted out.

"Don't you make fun of me, boy!"

"Sorry, Vincent, you're on your own on that one," Johnny said before he let Collins go.

Collins pounced on top of me and beat me to a pulp...I ended up having black and blue marks everywhere.

After fifteen minutes, Johnny decided to step in and help me by restraining Collins. "That's enough, Collins. You proved your point; now leave him alone," Johnny said as he pulled Collins away.

I finally got to tell Collins and Johnny why I was mad at them for so many months. "Now you know how it feels to think that someone doesn't deserve something...I didn't deserve to take all the punishment for that stupid prank we all pulled on Principal Brock! The first time I was ever sent to detention was because of you two, and all I could think about was how Collins and Johnny deserved to be here just as much as I did. It was your idea, Collins, and you participated, Johnny, yet neither of you cowards stepped in to claim some of the punishment. Collins, you pretended to be my friend and then threw me under the bus when there was a risk that you'd get a bad mark on your permanent record. Being Switzerland never gets you anywhere in life; Johnny, you're going to have to start choosing your battles. When you try to please everyone and keep the peace, it pleases no one at all, and that's so annoying."

"What does any of that have to do with you cheating?" Collins asked.

"I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on that one," Johnny added.

"None of you understand," I mumbled before I grabbed my T-shirt out of my locker, slammed the door shut, and left the locker room.

* * *

Beep...beep...beep...beep...The sound of a heart monitor woke me from my sleep. I rested on top of a sleeping bag and pillow in a windowless room lit by a floor lamp. The scent of rubbing alcohol filled the musty air. My body was sticky with dried-up blood, and I felt a bandage taped over my wound, along with an IV placed in my arm. I looked toward the light and saw a Latino man, who wore a white, blood-smeared coat, sitting in a chair and holding a bullet in each hand.

"I believe this one is yours," he said as he got up from the chair and placed the bullet in my hand. "It was lodged in there pretty good."

As soon as I sat up, my shoulder started hurting again. To my right was a pile of medical supplies that sat in a puddle of blood on the concrete floor. Where was I? It seemed like the doctor operated on me in some sort of basement. Who was this guy? Was he even a real doctor? Veronica was sleeping to my left, and across from me was a row of five computers, flashing WCV Security screensavers. This was definitely not the medical wing.

"What's going on? How did we get in here?" I asked.

"Hello, Alejandro," Veronica said with a groggy voice.

"Veronica, it's nice to see you again. It's too bad we can only see each other when you're injured, but nevertheless it's time spent together." Alejandro handed Veronica her bullet, hugged her lightly, and kissed her on both cheeks. "How are you feeling?"

"Ah..."

"Como mierda," he laughed.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"This is the doctor," Veronica said, smiling. "Doctor, this is Vincent."

"Pleased to meet you," he said, grabbing my hand and shaking it aggressively.

"Ouch, your grip is a little tight."

"Lo siento. Hey, is anyone missing an intestine?" he asked as he held up a drippy intestine with his bare hands. "Ooops...I must have forgotten to sew it back in after I took the bullet out."

My eyes widened, and I looked shocked as Veronica checked out the stitches on her stomach. "You didn't," Veronica said.

"Don't worry, it's just a fake; see, it's a replica soaked in blood," he laughed.

Veronica laughed with him, but I stayed silent with a straight face. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?" I asked.

"Oh, he no like joke," Alejandro said with a dramatic sad face. "Some friends and I saved you from roasting in the sun. We dragged you here, and I operated on you and her, but I did her first because her wound was more severe. You don't have to worry; I'm part of the resistance, even though I'm a doctor. Normally, I'd operate in the medical wing, but I had to take you down here because the governor shot you, so to the government, you are considered dead.

"We told the government that we buried you in the graveyard, so that means you are confined to this room unless you have a perception filter. I don't currently have one on me right now, but I'm sure I can get one for you soon. For now, my friends and I will bring you everything you need. As you are aware, you've just been shot, and you both were fairly dehydrated, so you need to take it easy and rest. Please don't remove your IVs. This is the basement of the glass house, and we are currently underneath the medical wing. There are hallways down here that lead to other parts of the basement, but I want you to stay here.

"The entire basement is not occupied by only the resistance; some of it is still being used by the government. and the resistance only uses the parts of the basement that are blocked off as not structurally safe. These parts of the basement are where we keep our supposedly dead people, who are hiding from the government, so please don't be too loud or do anything that would compromise their position or yours. When you can walk longer distances, I will show you the way out.

"While you're here you might hear the wall creak some, and you may notice that the ceiling has cracks and there is sand practically everywhere. This room used to be filled to the ceiling with sand, since it was blocked off by the government. Little by little, the resistance carried most of the sand out of the room one bucket at a time to make a security room of our own. Those are old security computers that government security used to use before they got new ones and threw the old ones out. Maintenance recovered them for us, but we didn't have anyone who knew how to fix them until now." Alejandro took two folded pieces of paper out of his pocket and handed them out accordingly. "You understand everything I just told you?"

"Yes," Veronica said as we took the papers. "Alejandro, do you know if Johnny Cockit-Gilbertson is down here in the basement somewhere? He recently died, and I was wondering if anyone saved him."

"I'm not sure, Veronica, but if I hear anything I'll let you know. Those papers are the orders from above...When I come back to check on you later, you will be asked whether or not you accept the mission. If you don't accept the mission, be prepared to provide a valid reason why you can't complete the mission. Don't be afraid of the resistance, Vincent, we don't hurt or kill anyone unless they are traitors and have alliance with the government. Veronica, you know what to do. I'll see you guys later."

Alejandro climbed up the ladder in the back of the room, pushed on a square section of the ceiling, and lifted himself out before he closed the door.

I looked down at my assignment.

Vincent:

The first part of your mission will consist of two parts:

(1) Fix the zombie computers.

(2) Hack into the government security feed, and redirect it to the zombie computers in the basement.

If you accept this mission, you will later be assigned a further mission. When your first mission is complete, notify the doctor.

I folded the paper up and slipped it in my pocket before I pulled out a chair and sat in front of a computer.

"So, Veronica, how long have you been part of the resistance?"

"I was recruited when I tried to escape from Walnut Cherryville several years ago."

"How come you didn't tell us about the resistance before we tried to escape?"

"I wanted to, but I couldn't. As a recruiter, I have to pretend to be a neutral party in order to test your allegiance."

"So everything we went through could have been avoided...Is that what you're telling me?" I said as I shook the mouse and glanced at the desktop. There were no icons remaining on the desktop, and the hard drive was wiped clean.

"No, it had to be done. If I told you about the resistance from the start and you decided to side with the government, you could infiltrate the resistance, expose us to the government, and all the resistance members would be dead."

"How can the resistance be so confident that I'm going to agree to join them?"

"We saved you from dying, Vincent. If the government saw that you were still alive, they'd shoot you on sight or torture you for information. If you wanted to change alliances you could, but then you'd end up with nothing at all, and the resistance would see you as a traitor. The government would keep you alive just long enough to get information out of you, and they'd kill you once you became useless. Is that a good enough answer?"

"Yep, you got me pushed into a corner. Now I have to join the resistance."

"You don't sound too excited about that...What's wrong?"

"I'm worried about Laura...What's going to happen to her? Will you save her?"

"Something tells me that Laura's going to be fine. Kenneth isn't looking to kill her if he's marrying her, which is why we can't save her."

"I disagree," I rebutted. "Laura is in a good position to infiltrate the government; she could help you."

"I don't think she wants to..."

I snatched the keyboard with my good hand, yanked it out of the computer, and threw it on the floor before banging my head on the desk.

"Please...don't do that," Veronica said.

"What's the point of all this? Why should I care?" I said irritably.

"You want to do this because if you help us take down the government, Laura will be free, and you two can go wherever you want and not have to worry about being recaptured by Walnut Cherryville ever again," Veronica said, remaining calm. "You care about her a lot...It's a shame you put so much effort into someone who only cares about herself."

"She's not like that...She cared about me."

"Well, I wouldn't know, considering that I'm only seeing your relationship from an outside perspective."

"Did you or other people from the resistance help Collins escape?"

"I would assume so," Veronica sighed. "I didn't know that was going to happen, since I took no part in planning or executing his second escape. I wish I knew if Johnny was OK. I've been praying for him every night, hoping for a miracle recovery. He was a good guy...When we lived in the forest he built me a book shelf..."

As Veronica went on, telling me about her days in the woods, I realized that she missed Johnny just as much as I missed Laura. It all became clear to me now what I needed to do.

Chapter 27: Laura

After Emily's first date with Todd, she couldn't wait to tell me about it the next day at school. Instead of approaching the lunch table silently and sitting down like a ghost that disappears and reappears out of nowhere, Emily had a hop in her step and a squinty-eyed smile that reached from ear to ear. She enthusiastically plopped her lunch tray on my table, which distracted me from reading the new issue of Vogue. When I looked up, the girl was bouncing around more than a rubber ball.

"Remember what I told you about not drawing too much negative attention to yourself?" I said.

Emily stopped bouncing, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "I'm sorry; I'm just really excited because my date with Todd went really well last night. I think he really likes me. He's soooooo cute! He picked me up at my house and took me to this cute Italian restaurant in Sun City West, and it was so romantic. Can't wait to do it again!"

"Did he ask you out on a second date?"

"No, not yet, but I hope he will. Maybe he needs some time, but I'm sure he will because we had a really good time last night, and I gave him my number."

I didn't want to tell Emily that Todd never planned on calling her or asking her out on a second date. I could barely convince him to go out on the first date, and even then, he took her to a restaurant that was forty minutes outside of Phoenix, so he wouldn't be seen by anyone that went to this school. Why didn't I think about this before? Emily wasn't going to forget about him if she thought he liked her; she would want to keep dating him until she found out the truth. The only problem was...I didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her the truth. She'd be heartbroken and call me a bad friend. Emily was the first girlfriend I ever had, and I didn't want to lose our friendship.

Later that night, I was at Todd's house in his bedroom doing the cowgirl as I finished reading Vogue.

"You know you could be doing more to pleasure me instead of reading that stupid magazine," Todd said as he snatched it away and threw it on the floor. "I don't feel like I'm getting my money's worth, and I won't pay you the full amount if it's not good."

"Well, tell me what you want me to do."

"I want you to pay attention, look at me, and fuck me like you want it."

I stopped completely and sighed. "We can't do this anymore. I feel bad."

"Oh, great, now you want to talk about your feelings..."

"Shut up, asshole, and listen for a minute! Emily really likes you. I think you should try to be a decent guy and give her a chance," I said as I got off Todd and lay down next to him.

"Laura, I told you before that I'm not interested in having a relationship with a girl who won't put out. They're too needy, and they're all saving it for some reason."

"You can't keep it in your pants for a few more dates? I'm sure after she gets to know you better, she'll replace your need for me."

"Excuse me one moment," Todd said as he got out of bed. "Now that I've lost my erection, I might as well go take a piss." Todd wrapped a bathrobe around himself before he grabbed his cellphone and went to the bathroom.

I covered myself with a quilt and waited five minutes until he came back.

"My parents could be coming home from work within the next thirty minutes, so we need to hurry up," he said when he came back into the room. He joined me beneath the covers and resumed missionary style.

"Just tell me you'd think about it please," I said. "It would mean a lot to me."

"Sure, I'll think about it."

Five minutes later, to my surprise, Emily walked into the bedroom with a smile on her face that quickly turned into tears. "What are you doing with my boyfriend?" she yelled. "They were right about you! You are a slut! I should have never trusted you!" Emily leveled the dresser top, breaking a lamp in the process before she stormed down the stairs.

"I've thought about it, and I prefer to leave things the way they are," Todd said calmly.

"Why are all men such dicks," I said, pushing Todd off me. "Emily, wait!" I began to run to the door but stopped when I realized I was naked.

"I'm not going to pay you today."

I grabbed Todd's jeans, slipped them on, and rushed down the steps. "Emily, I'm sorry; let me explain," I shouted as I ran outside, holding my breasts to cover them.

"Hey, give me back my jeans, bitch, you stole my wallet!" Todd yelled as he ran after me in his bathrobe.

I caught up to Emily just as she was about to get into her car, which was parallel-parked. She opened the door slightly, and I pushed it closed, hoping she'd be willing to hear me out. "Emily, please listen. I'm sorry...I never meant for this to happen," I started to say quickly but stopped when I noticed Emily staring at my boobs. "My face is up here." After I covered my breasts with my hands, she shook her head, rolled her eyes, and looked at me.

"How could you do this to me, Laura? I thought we were friends. If you liked Todd, you could have just told me."

Todd caught up to me and slipped his hand in my pocket. As he took it out, I grabbed it, smashed his fingers together, and snatched the wallet from his hand. After taking all his cash, I threw the wallet on the street.

"What were you guys involved in, some kind of bet?" Emily asked.

"No, Emily, I have to be honest with you...I kind of run a business under the table," I tried to explain.

"More like on the bed," Todd interrupted.

"And what business is that, exactly?"

"I don't like Todd; actually, I never liked Todd, but Todd pays for things that I need—"

"She's a prostitute," Todd blurted out. "There, plain and simple. Now give me back my money!"

"I've heard enough," Emily said as she got into her car. Before she drove off, never to be heard from again, she rolled down the window. "I don't ever want to hear from you again. If you do so much as even talk to me, then I will call the police and tell them you're a hooker, and you will be arrested."

It was disappointing and sad to watch my only female friendship crash and burn this way. I missed Emily, and no other girl would be my friend like that ever again. To top it off, I lost Todd as a client, and he wouldn't give me back my clothes until I returned his money. Since his $300 was worth more than my clothes, I decided to keep the money, which created more problems. I didn't have a shirt, bra, shoes, or a ride back home, since Todd drove me to his house after school.

Unlike many parents, my dad wouldn't let me have a car for my birthday because it was too expensive. Usually my mom dropped me off at school in the morning, spent all day at the spa, and often forgot she had to pick me up by three o'clock. When I asked her why she forgot to pick me up every other day, she responded, "I picked you up yesterday; doesn't that count? Why do you move around so much?" This was why I ended up hitching rides with boys three times a week to get home because girls wouldn't bother, and my father was too busy with the restaurant. I always thought that one day I'd find the right guy who had enough money to buy me a car and give me driving lessons, but that never happened.

On this day, I was stuck walking home barefoot with Vogue spread across my breasts. After stealing his money, I was surprised by the fact that Todd was decent enough to throw Vogue out the window so I could cover myself. On the way home, I got every dirty look imaginable from old ladies who were out walking their dogs. It took me thirty minutes to enter the neighborhood, and by the time I got there, my feet were bleeding, and Vogue was soaked with sweat...poor Vogue. A couple houses away from mine, I passed a Goth boy with black eyeliner, who chuckled at me as he checked the mailbox. I stopped in my tracks, turned around, and walked up to him.

"Nice day, isn't it?" I asked.

He shook his head up and down, smiling.

"You wouldn't believe the kind of day I had today, and it's unfortunate because the weather is beautiful...Listen, I'm going home, and I can't let my mom see me walk in the house like this, so—"

Before I could finish my sentence, the boy took off his tight black shirt and handed it to me.

"Thank you so much. I swear I'll give it back to you," I said as I turned around and dropped the magazine. I put the shirt on, which fit snugly around my breasts.

He picked up Vogue and handed it to me. "I'll be waiting right here for my shirt to return."

"I just need to get home and change, and then I can drop it back off to you before I head to the restaurant."

I never ended up returning his shirt because when I got home, I had to shower and clean the painful cuts on my feet. As I rushed around, trying to get ready for my shift at the restaurant, Mom kept following and hassling me for getting blood on the carpet. In addition, Dad called the house every twenty minutes, inquiring about the whereabouts of the dishwasher because she was late. By the time I cleaned the carpet and Mom dropped me off at the restaurant, I realized that I forgot to return the shirt, which ended up living in my dirty laundry hamper for years. I should have given it back to him...Now I missed Vincent; he had been a good friend to me, even though I barely noticed his existence back then.

* * *

Several hours after Kenneth and I got engaged, we went on our second date to celebrate me becoming the future Mrs. Quinton. Kenneth and I held hands as we walked to the greenhouse at midnight, a time where the village of Walnut Cherryville was barren of life. The greenhouse was a beautiful glass palace lit by only the stars of the night.

When we entered, we followed the stone tiles down to the dance floor, which was a circular empty space in the middle of the palace, surrounded by plants. The aroma of the rosemary and lavender plants that grew around the perimeter of the dance floor filled the air. Kenneth pulled out a single rose from his suit jacket and handed it to me.

"Does Mrs. Quinton know how to dance?" he asked.

I laughed as I smelled the rose. "Well, apparently not as well as you do. Where did you learn to dance the way you did on Chair Trials?"

Kenneth gazed into my eyes as he placed his hand on my hip and held my hand gently at shoulder's height. "My mom told me that I came out of the womb dancing, so she enrolled me in ballroom dance classes when I was four years old," he said as he began to sway me gracefully. "Before my father died, I used to take a lot of different types of dance classes after school, but that only lasted until I was thirteen."

I was surprised to see that Kenneth had a gentle, hidden talent of dance masked behind his malevolent exterior. "Why did you stop?"

He dipped me down to the floor, lifted me up to my feet, and twirled me around. "I never stopped dancing, but my lessons stopped because my mother made me move out here. She said it would be safer for me because the person that murdered my father would never be able to find me here. While I lived in Walnut Cherryville, I continued to practice on my own, but I feel a little rusty."

"No, I think you're doing great," I said. "That's too bad...Maybe things would have turned out differently for you if she let you stay. Where did you used to live before Walnut Cherryville?"

"That doesn't matter anymore...It's all in the past. Anyway, I want to know more about you and what you like. I was intrigued when you asked to change the Walnut Cherryville uniforms as part of our deal. That was probably the most interesting deal I've ever made."

"Likewise, I got more than I bargained for. As your wife, I'm hoping to make some changes to Walnut Cherryville that will help make it feel homier, so I hope you don't mind."

Kenneth stopped dancing and held me close, only inches away from his lips. "What kinds of changes, Mrs. Quinton?"

"Well, husband," I said, running my fingers through his hair. "First, I'm going to make the uniforms more fashionable, and then," I slid my hand sensually down his face, "like the nature of your deals," I unbuttoned the collar button on his shirt, "you'll have to wait and see." As I walked away, I lightly tugged on his belt buckle and the end came out of the loop. I stepped into the garden, but he didn't follow. "I can tell you're the kind of man that likes," the sundress slipped off my body, "surprises." As Kenneth stepped toward me, I stepped back, keeping eye contact with him until he grabbed my hair by its roots and kissed me aggressively.

"You're right," Kenneth said as he unhooked my bra. "I like surprises." He shed his suit jacket to the floor. "Especially ones like this." He pushed me up against the cold window and continued to kiss me.

I ripped open his button-down shirt from the bottom ends, and buttons flew everywhere.

"That was a new, never-worn-before, collared shirt that I put on just so I'd look nice on this date for you," Kenneth explained as I undid his pants. "Are you telling me that you don't like it?"

I pushed him down forcefully into the garden. "You don't need clothes to impress me."

After a long night of revenge sex, I woke up the next morning in Kenneth's queen-sized bed feeling like a different kind of woman. Instead of sleeping with acquaintances for money or expensive things, I slept with my fiancé to give him HIV as a little "I love you" gift before the wedding.

Kenneth snuggled me beneath the white silk sheets that were smeared with dirt and leaves from last night's shenanigans. Now that Kenneth and I were engaged, I got to live in the Quintons' private quarters. Located on the fortieth floor of the glass building, it was the only level where the ceiling and floor were made out of nontransparent black glass. Kenneth showed me last night that the walls in his room were constructed of interchangeable glass that could be transparent to bring light into the room or turn to black to have privacy. Before we fell asleep, he changed all the walls black, except the wall facing the village. He liked to look at the stars as he fell asleep and would only wake up to natural light that shone through the window. The luxuries that Kenneth had in just his room were more than what everyone in the lower levels had, combined. He even had his own bathroom with a private shower, Victorian-style bathtub, and a giant walk-in closet full of designer clothes. The furniture was a set that included two dressers, two night tables, and a bed, all hand-carved out of cherrywood with extravagant detailing.

"Good morning, Mrs. Quinton," Kenneth said as he woke up. "You still look beautiful, even if you're all covered in dirt and have bedhead."

"Good morning, husband," I said, giving Kenneth a peck on the lips. "Last night was special, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Kenneth replied as he rubbed my lower stomach. He sat up, opened his night table drawer, and took out a bottle of prescription pills called Lithobid.

"What's that you're taking?"

He washed the pill down with a sip of water from the bottle on his night table. "That's for my," he coughed, "allergies."

Lithobid was not a common allergy medicine that I had heard of, and I doubted it was allergy medicine at all. Whatever the medicine was really for, I got the feeling that he didn't want to tell me about it.

Kenneth got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and started the shower. I followed him and stood in the doorway playing with my hair. "So how did the Chair Trials Olympics end yesterday?"

"Quick," Kenneth replied as he stepped into the shower.

"What do you mean?"

"Mom didn't let me finish the execution; instead, she killed the contestants herself. I hate how Mom can be such a buzzkill sometimes. I had the situation under control. The contestants were competing against each other, and then they were supposed to die, but no! Mom had to have it her way and just shoot them with a handgun before they finished the games!"

I walked out of Kenneth's view and sat down on the toilet as my eyes watered. I didn't want to let him see that I was upset over Vincent. "What do you do with the bodies after you kill people?"

"When it comes to dead bodies, we don't do anything different from anyone else. Once it's dead, we just throw it in the graveyard and bury it."

"Do you mind if I go down and eat breakfast?"

"No, I guess not. See you later then, wife."

"Goodbye for now, husband," I said before I left the bathroom and closed the door.

I felt so sick to my stomach that I couldn't even think about eating. All I felt like doing was throwing up and crying, so I put on a black dress and headed down to the greenhouse to gather some flowers. When I walked into the greenhouse, all the workers stood at attention and called me Mrs. Quinton. I told them to go about their business before I tore a handful of daises off their stems and headed to the graveyard in search of Vincent's body. He deserved more respect than just having his body thrown in the graveyard so carelessly.

As I searched the graveyard, I tripped on bones that protruded out from the sand and struggled to read the names scribbled on some of the wooden crosses. I came upon a cross that read "Vincent," but there was no way to tell if it was my Vincent. Compared to some of the crosses where the ink looked smeared or withered away, this one looked fresh, so I could only guess it was for my Vincent. I sat down in front of his cross and placed the daises on top of the sand by the base.

"Vincent...I'm sorry for what happened to you...to us. I don't want you to think that I don't care about you because I do care for you deeply. I should have listened and stayed with you...I was stupid to think that I could actually change our situation. Seems like I only made it worse. Now you're dead, and I'm just sad and alone, stuck with Kenneth. I miss you...Now that I've thought about it, you've helped me more than I ever realized.

"Sorry about not returning your shirt. I meant to, but you probably saw somehow why I never got the chance to...I don't know why you were watching me, but I'm glad that you did. I never got the chance to say thank you for the tissues you left me on Thanksgiving. I'm assuming they were from you, since no one else cares enough to do those kinds of things for me. Sometimes it was the little things like that, which helped me get through the day, get through school, and get through life. When you first told me that you watched me, I freaked out, called you a stalker, and was very unappreciative; now I know it was all for the best. You're a really nice guy, and I was a lucky girl to have you in my life. I just wish that we could have spent more time together."

I wiped my tears with both hands and sniffled as I thought about my next words. "I think I might love you...Sorry it was too late, but I didn't realize what we had until it was gone. When it comes to true love, there are a lot of things I don't understand. It's complicated because I've never loved anyone in my life, and everything I've ever done felt so meaningless and materialistic. I want to change. I want to be more like you, someone who is satisfied with the people in my life rather than the things I have. I've made a lot of mistakes, but leaving you was my biggest one.

Chapter 28: Johnny

When I woke up from hibernation, all I wanted to do was touch something so I could see how it felt in my hands, but there was literally nothing around for me to touch. All I could see was white, blank, nothingness, so I felt my scruffy beard. My skin felt warm and prickly, which was satisfying after feeling numb for so long. I looked down at my arms as I moved my fingers. My hands still worked fine. I peered out at my feet, rotated my ankles around, and shook my legs. Nothing wrong there; I felt fine, but why couldn't I see anything? Oh, no...I was blind! I felt around the air to find my bearings when suddenly colors started to fade in, and I could see shapes and blurry objects moving around. It was too much for my mind to handle, so I blinked, and everything came into focus. I was on an airplane, sitting in the window seat with my hands on a bald man's head.

"Excuse me, sir, do you mind taking your hands off me?" he said.

My hands withdrew to my sides. "Sorry," I apologized before looking out the window. It looked like I was on a runway, but the plane wasn't moving. Did I book myself a flight? Where was I going? Where was I right now? Frustrated and confused, I closed my eyes again, hoping that it would all go away, but instead my mind focused on the elevator jazz playing softly under the passengers' chatter. When I reopened my eyes, I noticed new things, like the fact that I was wearing a familiar red flannel shirt, wife-beater, and washed-out blue jeans with holes in them. I felt the fabric on my arms, which was light and thin. These clothes felt so comfortable for some reason...It was almost like I had worn them twenty times before. I spotted a magazine titled Underworld stowed away in the leather pouch of the seat in front of me, so I pulled it out and took a look.

"Welcome to Antarctica," I read, "a land where about 98 percent of the continent is covered by ice that averages at least one mile (1.6 km) in thickness. We hope that you will enjoy your stay on this peaceful land." I stopped reading and closed the magazine.

"May I have everyone's attention," a stewardess spoke over the intercom.

The passengers gradually quieted down to a whisper.

"There has been another delay."

Everyone started complaining at once, and if my ears were correct, I even heard a woman scream and break glass. "I can't take it anymore! I've got to get off the plane!"

"Please, calm down, and stay in your seats," the stewardess said. "We should be taking off in thirty minutes."

"That's what you said thirty minutes ago!" a man's voice shouted from the back of the plane.

"The stewardesses will be coming around shortly to serve you drinks while you wait. Thank you for your patience."

I looked out the window and saw a plane roll down the runway and lift off into the sky. It was a white plane that read "Antarctic Air" in black letters, and it had an image of a penguin on its tail. Isn't that a contradiction? Penguins don't fly...how odd.

"Sir, would you like a drink?" the stewardess asked as she stopped her cart next to my row.

"Sure, what do you have?" I asked.

"We have hot tea, coffee, soda, juice..."

"Do you have Sprite?"

"Sure." She took out a Styrofoam cup and dropped an eyeball and a red worm into it before she filled it up with a green bubbly drink. "Here you go, enjoy."

I took the drink from her and curiously peered down into the cup. The red worm was actually an earthworm that was still alive and swimming around the eyeball, which was looking at me. The eyeball was too large to be human, so I was assuming it was from a larger mammal.

How long had I been asleep? Sprite had sure changed since I last drank it. I took a sip. It still had that old lemon-lime crisp flavor. I ate the worm, which was deliciously juicy and salty at the same time...almost as smooth as butter. Wasn't sure about the eyeball, though. I had been told I ate strange things, but I had never eaten an eyeball before. Well, I guessed there was a first time for everything. I popped the eyeball into my mouth and...ick...spit it right out. That was weird. It was slimy, crunchy, soft, and gushy all at the same time. The inside tasted like pus. Did the world run out of fresh water? What happened to ice cubes?

"May I have your attention once again, please," the stewardess announced. "We are cleared for takeoff."

The passengers clapped and cheered.

"Please turn off all cellphones and electronic devices. At this time, I need everyone to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts like so," she said as she demonstrated on a practice seatbelt. "Please locate the exits in the front, middle, and back of the plane in case of an emergency. In the event of an emergency, oxygen masks will drop from above..."

"Excuse me, sir," I whispered to the bald man next to me. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to the Underworld."

"You mean Antarctica?"

"I haven't heard anyone call it that for years."

A few minutes later, the plane started moving, and I could feel her gaining speed. We took off, flying smoothly past the clouds. During the first hour of the flight, nothing seemed unusual, and everyone was acting normal. I'd never been on a plane before, so this was definitely an experience but unfortunately a bad one—all of a sudden, we hit a patch of turbulence that caused my ass to jump up from my seat for a moment. Now I was convinced enough to put my seatbelt on, since my head almost hit the ceiling. I didn't know if I liked flying...It felt unnatural.

Eventually, the patches of turbulence turned into constant turbulence, and the plane shook us up like a salt shaker. The oxygen masks dropped from above, and everyone started to panic as the lights flickered. The sky bled a nasty dark purple color, and I felt like we were flying right into a storm. I could even smell the air getting misty. I put my oxygen mask on right before I noticed a raging twister in the distance.

We lost electricity at about one hundred feet, and the windows began to develop deep cracks as we approached the storm. At about eighty feet away, the compression was so high that the windows burst into pieces, and everyone in the cabin was crying and screaming for their lives. Somehow, I managed to remain calm and welcome the storm while most people were yelling, "We're all gonna die." Watching violent storms was exhilarating to me, and I was always astonished by mother nature's brilliance and the beauty of her creations. This was a creation that I'd never seen before: a dark hurricane that towered over the clouds and swirled around in the atmosphere...the perfect storm. However, this was not a storm I would have liked to witness from the air but rather on the ground, sitting in a bed of wet grass.

At sixty feet away, mother nature took out the engine, and we rocketed toward the exterior of the dark hurricane. The plane broke in half upon impact with the twister, and I had nothing left to count. As we spun around in circles, the plane materials disintegrated until there was nothing left.

Lustful ghosts sobbed in the current with an infinite sadness as they attempted to grab at me and cling to my clothing, but I kicked and pushed them away. I could have sworn I saw the ghost of Laura pass through me. If I listened closely, I could hear her voice echoing...

"Kenneth, Vincent, Todd, Ron, Randy, Steven..." she listed.

"Laura!" I yelled.

"Johnny?" she questioned as she drifted over to me. "No, you're not on the list."

"What happened to you?"

"I died from AIDS, and I never found true love."

"Can you help me?"

"What you are looking for can be found."

"What am I looking for?"

"All one must do is swim down."

I looked down the eye of the purple hurricane and saw some people swimming toward the base, which was a sparkling black hole. I followed them, using all the strength I had to swim down the salty current. The tears of so many ghosts left a gross, briny flavor in my mouth. Once I reached the black hole, it sucked me in and spit me out on the other side within seconds.

As I plummeted from the sky, the darkness changed into a beautiful, sunny day with colorful cotton-candy clouds scattered about. The atmosphere on this side of the black hole smelled like pure sugar. I fell on a pink cloud, and as it slowly lowered itself down to the mountain tops below, the aroma of mint became stronger. I guessed this was my stop. I scooted off the cotton candy, plopped on to a mountain top, and took a nibble...It was an Andes Chocolate Mint mountain! What a relief; just one bite was enough to dilute the ghost tears and give my breath the minty freshness it needed.

I rolled down the mint-chocolate mountain into an edible land of sweets. Powdered sugar fell from the sky like snow, which melted over the warm cinnamon-glazed nut gravel. Were my eyes playing tricks on me, or did I really see a town made out of sweets? I got up, brushed the nuts off my jeans, and walked into town. The houses here were constructed of graham crackers and were decorated with icing and colorful candies. Everyone had candy corn lawns protected by vanilla wafer fences. As soon as I stepped onto the Oreo crust street, a giant human basketball came rolling quickly toward me, screaming, "Watch out!"

I jumped back, tripped backward, crushing a vanilla wafer fence, and landed on the candy corns. That voice sounded familiar. "Collins?"

The basketball stopped and turned to face me before rolling over to where I was. "Johnny?"

"I am so confused...Where am I, and...what happened to you?"

Collins had his eyes on someone's Reese's Pieces chimney, and I could tell he was hardly paying attention to me. Before I could finish my question, he rolled over the lawn and bit the chimney off the roof. Midway through chewing it, he began to cry. "I can't taste it," Collins sobbed furiously. "Everything here looks so tempting, and I remember that I like Reese's Pieces, but when I eat, I taste nothing!" Collins's diameter grew an inch instantly. "Can you taste it for me and tell me what it's like again? If you haven't lost your sense of taste yet, could you let me watch you eat it?"

"Hey, asshole, you bit a hole in my house!" a giant blueberry yelled.

"I'm sorry...It just looked so delicious," Collins cried.

"You have to stop this," I said. "Remember what Veronica taught you?"

"It's too hard, Johnny; I have no self-control."

"Yes, you do! Remember when we were in Walnut Cherryville, how every time you ate too many sweets for breakfast, you'd fall asleep during work? Veronica taught you how to portion out your meals so you only ate what you needed to use for energy. I know you can do it...I saw you do it."

"You're right...All this eating made me turn into a basketball, and now I can't even play basketball."

"What's going on? Can you tell me where we are?"

"You're looking for something."

"That's what Laura said, or the ghost above, actually, but I don't understand what you guys are talking about."

"Follow the champagne river; it will get you to your destination a lot quicker," Collins replied before he rolled away.

Across the Oreo crumble street, I saw a raft made from cinnamon sticks, floating in the champagne river and attached to a Twizzler tether. Before crossing the street, I looked both ways to make sure no more unusually round people were charging toward me. Once I got on the raft, I detached the tether and let the slow river take me away from sweet town.

The river was calm to start but quickly became deadly. The champagne rapids were so rough that I could barely hold on to the raft when the river pushed down small rocky slopes. My fingers got nicked by rocks and bled, but despite the pain, I continued to hold on. I thought the small slopes were bad, but the worst was yet to come. I floated on top of a champagne fall the size of Niagara Falls, which was about to throw me off the cliff. Delaying my inevitable death, I attempted to paddle against the current with my hands and watched as the raft inched closer to the edge. Why the fuck would Collins tell me to do this? This was when I realized that the quickest way to a destination wasn't always the best way...ahhh! I fell down the champagne falls into the deep champagne pool below, which caused the raft to split apart.

Thankfully, I was still alive, which was strange because most people would have died from a fall like that. I survived it without a scratch, and my skin tingled like I just belly flopped into the lake. The cinnamon sticks were quickly floating away from me, so I only managed to grab one and hold it beneath my body. I could swim, but who knew how long I'd be swimming for, so I had better save my energy.

As the current pushed me away from the falls, I approached a shiny metal cave. The metal on the outside of the cave looked beaten up to mimic the texture of natural rocks, but really it was just mocking nature. The dark cave was lit up by light that reflected off diamond stalagmites, and I saw two rows of robots on either side of the river, mining the cave with pickaxes.

The robots looked like humans in the sense that they had two arms, two legs, hands, feet, and a head with a human face drawn on it like a cartoon character. Unlike humans, their skin was silver, and their body shape was more square rather than round. Each robot worked within five feet of each other, mining USB drives, with a ball and chain tied around their right foot. The chain was only long enough to allow the robots to reach their mining carts, which were half-full of USB drives. I floated past a robot with a familiar voice, so I swam onto land and pulled the cinnamon stick up to shore.

"The answer to what's the point of life," Vincent sighed, "and I can't read it." He threw the USB drive into the mining cart and continued hitting the metal wall with his pickaxe.

"Vincent, is that you?" I asked.

He stopped mining and turned around. "Johnny, I was expecting you," he said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. Like the human Vincent I knew, the robot Vincent had black eyeliner drawn around his eyes, black paint for hair, and an eternal frown face.

"Do you know what I'm looking for?"

Vincent dug through his cart of USBs and pulled one out. "The answer to what you are looking for can be found on this," he said handing it to me. "I would read it for you, but unfortunately, my programing doesn't allow me to reach my port."

"Why not?"

"If I could reach my port, I'd be the smartest computer in the world. All the answers to life's questions can be found on those USB drives, and all you have to do is insert them into my port."

"Where's your port?"

With his hands leaning against the rocky wall, Vincent bent over and revealed his port, which looked like a rectangular-shaped asshole.

"So you're telling me you can't reach your own ass?" I laughed.

"The sooner you insert the USB, the sooner I can deliver your information."

I took off the USB cap and gently inserted the drive into Vincent's port.

"Harder," he demanded.

I glanced around uncomfortably as I pushed the drive harder into Vincent's port.

"You're almost there...I can almost feel the information!" he said excitedly.

When I jammed the USB as deep as it would go, a wave of electric currents danced on Vincent's metal body, and oil leaked from his front side. "You're looking for your biological father, who can be found at the Swamp Bar located at the end of the river. Oh, that was fun; let's do another one!"

"Actually, that was kind of weird for me; I'm going to pass," I said as I pulled out the USB, replaced the cap, and threw it back into the mining cart.

"No wait, please, my hard drive craves information! I want to know when the world will end, what's so special about Walnut Cherryville, and why Laura chose not to be with me. I need answers! I must know everything!"

I thought I understood now why someone would purposely program robots with the inability to reach their own ass. The information made Vincent crazy like an addict addicted to drugs or sex. Once he got a taste of information, he didn't know when to stop, and he became greedy. No person or robot should have the answers to all the world's questions.

I walked my cinnamon stick to deeper waters, leaving Vincent behind, pleading for more information. He reached for me and tried to grab me, but the ball and chain held him back. I sat on the cinnamon stick and floated downriver until I reached the swamp.

The Swamp Bar that Vincent talked about looked like a log cabin stranded on an island in the middle of a pond, which the champagne river emptied into. The pond was surrounded by overgrown bald cypress trees that reached toward the cloudy red sky. When the cinnamon stick ground against the land, I knew it was time to get off for my last stop. Why would I be looking for my father, who had been dead for years? How could Laura, Collins, and Vincent know I was looking for something when I myself didn't know I was looking for something? I walked onto the island and stood at the entrance of the Swamp Bar but hesitated to open the door.

My hand turned the rusty doorknob cautiously to reveal an angry bar fight. I stepped into the bar, which was flooded up to my knees with a combination of blood, piss, and beer, and closed the door. For some reason, the flood was retained in the bar and didn't spill out into the pond. Every square inch of the bar was occupied by naked men who wrestled each other, ripped their opponent's flesh off with their teeth, and spit it out on the floor. Chunks of skin floated past me, still bleeding, as I searched for my father. For the first time today, I realized that below my jeans, I was wearing cowboy boots, something I hadn't worn for years...not since...I spotted my father punching the man I killed when I was ten years old, the man who Dad claimed was his friend. My heart pounded, and my body clammed up as all the memories of that night, which I tried to keep out for years, rushed back into my mind. I thought it was time to face the consequences for what I had done.

"Hello, Fredrick," I said.

"Fredrick? Johnny, I'm your father; what happened to calling me Dad?"

"You haven't been my father for years."

"I'm sorry to hear that, son, but whether you like it or not," Fredrick kicked his friend into the bar, "my blood runs through your veins, and that's what makes you a Cockit."

The man bounced back with a furious punch to Fredrick's nose. They kept fighting each other like they felt no pain.

"There's something you need to know about your family; once I tell you, you need to listen to me and follow the instructions I give very carefully."

"After I protected you by killing this man, it ruined my life, so why would I follow any instructions coming from you?" I asked.

"His name was Angus Quinton, the father of Kenneth," Fredrick announced.

"I killed Kenneth's dad!"

"Johnny, you have to understand that what you did needed to be done to protect the family. I only wish that I had the chance to kill Angus before you intervened. That's why I told you to stay in the car, but you didn't listen. If there was ever a time where it was critical that you listen to me...the time is now. Our families have been feuding over the land of Walnut Cherryville for centuries, and the Quintons stole what was rightful Cockit property."

Angus held Fredrick in a familiar chokehold and pushed Fredrick up against the wall, but Fredrick quickly kicked him away.

"The only thing I care about is getting my friends safely out of Walnut Cherryville, which clearly isn't going to happen now," I said. "The Quintons can keep their property because I don't want it."

"The land is yours, Johnny, and you need to take ownership of it in honor of the Cockit family. Its magic prevents the two families from ever becoming physically ill or dying while they're on the land. Even though Walnut Cherryville is located in the most remote part of the Sonoran desert, its fertile land has provided the families with food and water since the beginning of our bloodlines. If you want to ensure a future for yourself and your future kin, you need to kill Kenneth because he for sure is not hesitating to kill you."

"I thought you said I couldn't die on the land of Walnut Cherryville?"

"Well, there is an exception to that rule...You and Kenneth can kill each other whether you're on Walnut Cherryville soil or not because you both come from direct bloodlines. That's why you were able to kill Angus at his house in Phoenix, and it's why Grandpa Cockit died from a gunshot wound in the park. Anyone could kill us with any object if we're not in Walnut Cherryville. The rule only protects you against dying from murder attempts by people like Kenneth's mother, who married into the bloodline. As long as you're in Walnut Cherryville, there is absolutely nothing she can do to kill you."

"I can't believe you're asking me to kill Kenneth! Haven't I made him suffer enough? No wonder he's trying to kill me; he must be really upset and angry about the death of his father."

"Don't forget that his family killed your father and your grandfather, so don't be so quick to hand out forgiveness. You must kill Kenneth exactly the way I tell you to. Somewhere in Walnut Cherryville, your great-great-great grandfather hid a sacred knife that you need to find in order to kill Kenneth correctly. On Walnut Cherryville soil, Kenneth will only die if you stab his heart with this knife. Killing him with anything else will cause a false death, and the land will not safely be yours if any Quinton is still breathing."

"Am I still breathing?" I asked.

"My son, you are still very much alive...All you need to do is wake up, up, up, up..." My father's voice faded out to the blow of the wind and the sound of a dog whistle.

My vision quickly became blurry, and everything I saw in front of me disappeared into white, blank nothingness. I couldn't feel my limbs anymore, and my body became numb, yet I felt like I dropped thousands of feet back into reality. After taking a few deep breaths, I opened my eyes, where I found myself lying in a coffin...still alive.

###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lauren Salem graduated from Wilkes University with a degree in Communication Studies and currently lives in Pennsylvania. This is her first published novel and the first book in The Eternal Feud Series. She also writes short stories and poetry. When she's not writing, she's trying out new cooking recipes and delicious teas.

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