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"Hey, we know you're in there," the guy calls out. "We just want to talk to you." The door shakes. "Don't be scared. We're not going to hurt you."
I back away from the door until the backs of my legs bump into a crate. A lantern topples over and crashes to the floor. I hold my breath, hugging my arms around myself.
"Oh, come on," the guy whines. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Someone bangs on the door so hard the lock starts to slip loose. I rush forward and press myself against the door, tightening the lock.
"Allura ..." the voice returns, swarming around me.
My skin vibrates as my heart pounds.
"Allura, where are you?"
"Open the fucking door," the guy growls, banging on it.
I slide to the floor, cover my ears with my hands, and rock back and forth. I can't take this: voices, threats, danger lurking everywhere. I've only been out of the channels for a day, and so much has already happened.
Will I ever feel safe?
Chapter Nine
The Mirror
The guy and girl knock a few more times before abandoning their plan of getting in. After they leave, the voices hush too. I don't get up, though, until I hear three distinct knocks on the door.
"Allura, it's me," Mable says from the other side. "Open up."
I stumble to my feet and dig deep to find the courage to unlatch the lock.
The door flies open, and Mable hurries inside. "Hey, honey." She shuts the door, and her eyes sweep me over. "The clothes are a little big, but I don't have a smaller size."
"They're fine." I tug the sleeve lower on my arm, making sure the number is concealed properly. "I appreciate you giving them to me."
"That's what the post is for, sweetie. We're here to help anyone who needs it." She pats an upside down crate. "Now, come sit down so I can brush your hair."
At first, I don't move. While I don't want to be rude, I'm eager to find Blaise and tell him about the voices and the guy and the girl. But when Mable snaps her finger and points at the crate with a stern look on her face, I plant my butt down.
"So you guys help people?" I ask, placing my hands in my lap.
"We do ... or we used to." She picks up a brush and begins brushing my hair. "It breaks my heart to say this, but some people have forgotten our purpose for creating the posts. I blame the broken city for a lot of that. People wander out there, searching for something better, and never find it. They forget how much control the watchers have over the city, how broken the laws are. Almost everyone who leaves the posts comes back, but they're changed." She sighs heavy heartedly as she works on getting a tangle out of my hair. "That's what the broken city does. The corruptness sucks the goodness out of a person and leaves their soul dry. They forget how to be a good person, that stealing and hurting people is wrong. It's not fight or die down here at the post like it is out in the city, but a lot of people think that way, and it taints the place. We become more and more like the Forsaken every day, hurting our own kind over practically nothing. I've talked to Zaire about trying to get some laws in order, but so far, the Committee won't approve the changes."
"Committee?"
"When the posts were built, everyone decided we needed someone in charge, so one family member was elected from each family who helped build the post. The East City Post Committee consists of fifteen people, and they're the people who get the final say on any changes made in our society. Although, they don't do much in the line of change. Most of them just look the other way.
"Every time a member passes away, one of their sons or daughters takes the position. I think that's part of the problem. We need some new blood in the committee, people who are more accepting of change. This place needs to be cleaned up, and we need to weed out the people who bring the violence from up there"--she points the brush at the ceiling--"to down here." She lowers her hand. "I hate to say this, but I think we should stop letting everyone in who bangs on that door."
I think about how Maxx just let Blaise and me inside. If they changed the rules, would we be allowed to come back if we needed to? What would have happened to us today if we hadn't been able to come down here?
"I'm not talking about you or Blaise or Ryder or any of you out at Leviter Station. Honestly, I wish more of you would come here and fewer strays would." She walks around in front of me, angles her head to the side, and puts a finger to her pursed lips. "Interesting."
I self-consciously run my fingers through my hair. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She tosses the brush onto a stack of blankets. "It's just that you remind me of someone ... What did you say your last name is?"
I have no idea how to reply. Thankfully, someone raps on the door and puts an end to the conversation.
I straighten, tensing. What if it's the girl and guy again?
"I'm guessing that's your guys," Mable says, heading for the door. "You should've heard them out there. Is Allura okay? Did she get her sling off okay? Should I go check on her? If I didn't know any better, I'd think they never left you alone before."
I hope it's just Blaise instead of the guy and girl ...
Wait a second? She said guys. I jump to my feet but brace my hand on the crate as blood rushes from my head.
"Wait? You said guys?"
"Ryder and Reece showed up just a little bit ago." She unlocks the latch and opens the door.
Ryder pushes his way into the room and slams the door. He has a fresh cut on his cheek, his jacket is torn on the side, and his cargo pants are covered in dirt, but other than that, he looks unharmed. A heavy weight falls off my shoulders.
"All right, it's been long ..." He blinks when he spots me. "Well, holy shit. Look at you."
Mable lightly smacks him upside the back of the head. "Watch your language, young man. You know my rules. No cursing in front of me."
Ryder winces, rubbing his head. "Sorry. It's just been a while since I've seen Allura cleaned up. She looks"--he struggles for the right words--"good."
I do? I glance down at the clothes I'm wearing, wondering how different I look now that I'm not wearing that gross T-shirt.
"She does look good, but she also looks like a girl who needs to eat." She pulls the door back open and gently shoves Ryder toward the doorway. "Go take her to the tables and make sure she eats until her belly's full."
"On it." Ryder extends his hand to me. "Come on, Allura, before she starts trying to convince me to let her cut my hair."
"You should let me cut your hair," she scolds as I rush forward and take Ryder's hand. "Allura agrees with me, right?"
"No way. She likes my hair, right, Allura?" Ryder juts out his bottom lip. "Tell her you like it."
"Um ..." I eye Ryder's blond hair that almost reaches his shoulders. I'm not sure how to answer her question, whether I should lie or not. I don't want to make anyone mad. "I do kind of like it," I decide to answer truthfully.
r /> Ryder smirks at Mable. "See? She likes it."
Mable softly smacks him upside the head again. "She's just being nice. If she saw it when it was short, she wouldn't say that. You looked much better with shorter hair."
Ryder makes a face, and Mable retaliates by raising her hand. Ryder laughs and skitters out of the way, hauling me with him.
"You better watch that one," Mable calls out. "Make sure he keeps his hands to himself."
Ryder shakes his head. "Don't listen to her, Allura. She just likes to embarrass me."
"She seems nice." I stare down at our interlocked fingers as he steers us toward the tables. "She kind of acts like a ... mother?"
He glances at me, questions flooding his eyes. "You remember what a mother is like?"
"I think so ... someone who gave birth to you and cares for you, right?" I ask, and he nods. "I don't remember mine, though." The realization creates an aching sensation in my chest.
"I don't, either." Ryder stops in front of a vacant table. "Neither does Reece or Blaise. We don't know who our dads are, either. It's something we have in common and was kind of the reason why we became friends." He pulls out a seat for me then plops down in the chair beside mine. "Reece, Blaise, and I were orphans when we were brought to Leviter Station. We were too young to remember what happened to our parents, and we bonded over that during our classes."
I scoot the chair forward, the legs grinding against the steel floor, and cringe when a few people sitting at the nearby tables glance in my direction. "Classes? Like school classes?"
"School?"
"Yeah, where kids go to learn."
"I'm not sure what you're talking about ... I've never heard of a school before."
"Oh." Then why can I picture a brick building filled with rooms where teachers teach and kids sit at desks and learn? I sat in a desk once, I think. "What kind of classes were you talking about, then?"
"Ones given at the station. It's how we were trained for the missions we go on." He twiddles a knob on the lantern in the center of the table. "When we get to the station, I'll show you around and explain what's what."
I nod, imagining what Leviter Station will look like--a towering building with windows and steel trim that shines in the sunlight. Who knows if I'm right, though? I've been wrong about everything else so far. For all I know, the place could look as dangerous and unfamiliar as everything else has so far.
