Within These Walls

Chapter 3

"Please," I choke out.

Marcus is on his feet now. He stands there silently, studying me.

"D-don't leave me."

No answer.

Oh, God. "Marcus!"

"Chill," he says, dropping to his knees again. "I'll pull you out. Give me your hand."

I drag my arm across the stone floor, straining so hard my eyes feel like they're going to pop right out. I can't reach the doorway. It's too far away. If Marcus wants to help me, he'll have to reach back inside.

"Wait," I gasp when he starts to do so.

He's using his right hand, the one with the bracelet. "Your other . . ." My mouth is excruciatingly dry. I swallow. "Hand. Hurry."

Marcus switches hands and grabs my wrist, then gives me a couple of powerful tugs. I'm out of the hallway. The beeping stops. I hurt everywhere, but I'm also languid with relief, soaring above the world. I crash back down to reality when Marcus leans over me, wearing that smirk I'm coming to hate.

"God, you're so—" I cut off and fight to compose myself. Insults won't help me, even if I want to call him out on his reckless stupidity. No sense in butting heads with this one.

"When you were trying out different things with your hands before, you were checking to see how the bracelet works?" he asks.

At least he's not completely dumb. I sit up straight, moaning when my body aches in protest. I wriggle the bracelet up a couple of inches. There's a red bruise on my skin. I wince. Seeing it makes it hurt even worse. "I wanted to see if the bracelet becomes activated when it passes through the doorway. It looks that way."

Marcus's eyes trace the metal frame of the doorway. "Why go through all this trouble to keep us out of the block? What are they hiding in there?"

"It's not what they're hiding," I reply. "You know what a cattle grid is?"

"Do I look like a farmer to you?"

No, I don't think I'd ever confuse him for a farmer. "A cattle grid is something they put over roads or railways to prevent livestock from traveling beyond a certain point. To keep them right where the farmers want them." I take another deep breath. My chest still feels funny. I can't get my lungs to expand all the way. "They want us out here. Together."

"So they can do whatever they want with us," he concludes.

"Exactly."

Marcus gives me a hard stare. "How do you know all of this?"

"I'm just putting the pieces together." I roll my eyes. "I don't know who put us in here any more than you do, Marcus. You know that, so stop pushing my buttons."

"Either way, I don't make a habit of trusting people who might try to screw me over."

"Finally. Something we can both agree on."

He jumps to his feet and starts walking away. "I'm done being agreeable. I'll be keeping an eye on you, Rose."

I watch as he walks away, telling myself I should probably do the same.

The bottom floor is overcrowded when I get there. It's an area about the size of the average high school cafeteria. There are evenly-spaced metal tables with chairs arranged on either side of them. They're bolted to the floor, which makes this place feel more like a prison than anything else. The bright and invasive lighting isn't helping things.