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This adventure is being orchestrated by University students. They are the best and brightest of our country, which means anything obvious is most likely incorrect. “Why don’t we head inside and see what’s there?” I suggest. “The clue will probably make more sense once we figure out where we are.”
After sliding both my University bag and the team’s green one onto my shoulder, I head across one of the bridges. The bright rays of the early day make it easy to see where newer slats of wood have replaced old ones. Those repairs are the only signs of improvement. Whatever this place is, the United Commonwealth has not deemed it important enough to revitalize. At least, not yet.
The building peeking out from between overgrown trees and bushes is a dingy grayish green. There are holes in the roof and branches sticking out in places where animals have probably set up their homes. Dozens of sickly yellow- and brown-leafed trees grow around the structure. Though this area was not hit by the bombs that destroyed so many cities, this diseased ground demonstrates that nothing in our world was left untouched.
On the right side of the building is a tunnel strewn with leaves, branches, and broken rock. As we pass through, I notice the ceiling of the tunnel has, like the bridges, undergone recent repairs. We emerge from the tunnel into an area filled with scraggly plants, more unhealthy trees, and lots of buckled and uneven stone walkways jutting up in front of us in different directions. I can see other buildings off in the distance.
“Which way should we go?” Damone asks.
Since we don’t know what kind of place this is, traveling along the stone pathways, as damaged as they might be, is the safest way to start exploring. Unfortunately, none of the walkways goes in a straight line. Instead, they bend and curve around the terrain. If we are not careful, instead of saving time, we could waste it getting lost or turned around.
With that in mind, I pull the Transit Communicator out of my bag and turn on the compass. At least we won’t get lost. Will peers at the device and says, “If no one has a better idea, I say we go left.”
He takes the lead, and we follow the path as it curves around an area to our right. This space must have been vibrant once, with green grass and colorful flowers. The plants that grow now are a sickly brown, although here and there, I see thriving patches of red clover. When the path forks, we follow the sharp turn to the left. The trees lining the path are more plentiful. The bushes fuller. The thicker foliage makes it hard to see what is ahead. The walkway curves again. My steps grow slower, more cautious, as I peer through the trees, trying to see if danger lurks around the next bend.
We come to a large building. The roof is collapsed in a number of places. Weather and animals have eaten away pieces of the dark gray walls. The doors look as though they haven’t been touched in at least a decade. I am trying to decide if we should attempt to open them when a blood-chilling scream rips through the air.
Will.
Instinctively, I run to help. The scream came from somewhere through the foliage. Will must have decided to explore while the rest of us looked at the building. My foot catches on a piece of broken stone. I take the left path, which I hope will lead me to Will. The footsteps at my back tell me my teammates are close behind. And when I burst free of the trees, I am prepared for the worst. Which is why, when I spot Will dangling upside down, looking red-faced and very much alive inside a large metal structure, I begin to laugh.
“Don’t just stand there,” he yells. “Help me get down.”
Will struggles to grab the rope holding his ankles. The movement makes him swing back and forth, making me laugh even harder. Next to me, Enzo and Damone are fighting their own amusement. Finally, when our laughter subsides, I move closer for a better look.
Standing at least twenty feet high, a rusty but still sturdy-looking chain-link fence makes up three sides of a cage. The metal fence is attached to the building, which forms the fourth side. Metal bars spaced two to three feet apart make up a grid that forms the roof. More chain link covers the grid. The rope Will dangles from is attached to a roof support located in the middle of the enclosed space. On the far right side of the cage is an opened door. That must be how Will got inside. On the left of the cage is a door that leads into the attached structure.
“I might be tall enough to reach the rope around his ankle,” Damone offers.
“Maybe,” I say, although I doubt it. When Damone tries to reach, he proves me right. Drat. And from the looks of the knot around Will’s ankle, working the rope free is going to take time. Meanwhile, other teams are getting closer to finding the nest and moving on to the next location. We need to get Will down and get moving—now.
I fish my pocketknife out of my bag, climb through the cage door, and eye Damone’s lanky build with a frown. “Do you think you can lift me onto your shoulders, Damone?”
Damone is tall but slight. And while I’m not very big, my brothers used to say that carting me around was like lifting a cow. But Damone doesn’t think I look too heavy and squats down so I can climb onto his shoulders. Moments later, I am high in the air, sawing the rope. Every time Damone shifts under my weight, I hold my breath and prepare to hit the deck. But Damone is stronger than he looks and doesn’t falter as I run my blade back and forth until finally . . . snap. The last threads of rope break free, and Will tumbles to the hard gray stone ground.
When I am safely standing on my own two feet, I shove the knife into my pants pocket. Then, shrugging both of my bags onto my shoulder, I turn for the door in time to watch it slam closed. The distinctive clank of metal against metal announces loud and clear that the cage has been locked. Will, Damone, and I are trapped inside.
Chapter 7
WILL RACES PAST me to the door and yanks on the handle. Enzo tries opening it from the other side. I’m not surprised when neither is successful. Whoever rigged the rope and door traps did a good job. But we’ve already beaten one of the traps by getting Will free of the rope. Now we have to defeat the second and get out of here.
Damone and Will climb the fen
ce, hoping to escape that way. Enzo tries to unlock the cage door while I walk to the one that leads into the building. The handle is missing, but it only takes a nudge of my foot for the door to creak open. I shove the door wider and wrinkle my nose at the musky smell of animal waste. The final years have created this scenario to test us. No doubt they will have something interesting in store. Hoping that whatever animals made that smell are harmless or gone, I turn back to my team and say, “We have to go this way.”
“I’ll go to the other door and yell into the building from there. You can use my voice as a guide.” Enzo digs through his bag and comes up with a small metal flashlight. “You can use this, too.”
He slips the flashlight through the fence. I take it and realize that while we are trapped inside this cage, Enzo is free to solve this part of the task and leave us behind. Will he be waiting for us when we find the exit? There is only one way to find out.
“Thanks,” I say, turning on the light. “See you on the other side.”
Taking one last breath of fresh air, I duck through the door. The smell of urine and decay makes me gag as I pan the light around the small room. I see rotting cabinets, counters strewn with dust and mouse droppings, and an overturned metal stool. At the back of the room is another door. I push the stool out of the way and cross to the door, making sure Will and Damone are right behind.
I hear the sound of tiny feet scurrying across the cracked tile of a long, narrow hallway. My father and his team have discovered several methods to limit the rat population in our area. I know other colonies and the city of Tosu have done the same. But the glow of dozens of pairs of eyes as they reflect my light tells me the rat population in this area has gone unchecked. Yick.
The smell of stagnant water and animal feces grows stronger as I step into the next room and gasp. Most of the ceiling is gone. Light streams in, giving me a clear view. This room—if it can be called a room—is enormous. The ground grows uneven as I walk deeper into the cavernous space. The floor looks like rock, but when I run my fingers over it, it feels synthetic. Something man-made. The same can be said for some of the plants that appear to be growing out of the room’s floor. Ten feet in front of my position are pieces of what must have once been a safety railing. And it is clear why it was needed. Beyond the railing is a drop of at least forty feet. At the very bottom is a river at least ten feet across. Beyond that is a large expanse of rocklike surfaces and grayish trees that stretches as high as the surface on which I currently stand. A foot placed wrong near the railing could mean a broken bone or worse.
“Don’t step too close to the edge,” I warn, and walk to my left. The floor slants upward and is slick with decayed leaves. A flutter of wings from above makes me jump, and I grab on to a nearby wall to keep myself steady. Looking up, I see a bird soar out of the room into the sky above. Too bad we can’t escape the same way.
