“CATCH HIM!” they shouted. “CATCH HIM! CATCH HIM! CATCH HIM! FIND THE LOST BOY!”
Chapter 12
Sage Penderbrook wandered the cold, concrete halls of the Light House’s kitchen an hour before dawn. She made her way past the freezer’s big brass doors and braved its arctic temperatures to steal a slice of frozen sourdough bread. Carefully, she wrapped the bread in the caramel cashmere cloth she’d brought from her room.
She expertly navigated her way through the basement to the sixth floor’s lobby. Soft snores sounded from behind the desk—Barry was working. He’d continue his nap, as usual, until the second shift came on.
Sage reached through the desk’s glass window and pressed a red button by Barry’s hand. The doors to the back room slid open. She typed a code into the keypad, listening to its beeps as she pressed its buttons. Then she put her eye against the room’s retina scanner and whispered “Sangria Penderbrook.”
“Identity confirmed,” announced the retina scanner. The doors to the prison slid open. Sage made her way to cell sixteen at the end of the hall. The door’s slot screeched as she pulled it open.
“Excuse me, miss,” she said.
“Wha—?” The girl in the cell woke with a shake. Charlie, she’d heard the chancellor call her. She guessed the starvation pangs had kept her awake most of the week.
Sage shoved the cloth-covered bread through the slot. “I brought something for you.”
“Somethin’?” said Charlie, still half-asleep. “For me?
“Yes, for you, Charlie.”
Charlie took the wrapped package from Sage’s hand, and Sage heard her peel open the cloth, corner by corner. She squealed when she found the sourdough.
“All of this?” she said, like Sage had brought her a turkey instead of a slice of frozen bread. “For me?”
Sage nodded. She wished she could’ve stolen fresh bread, but those loaves were monitored more carefully by Cook’s watchful eye.
Charlie’s stomach grumbled its thanks. “I, uh—gosh, I can barely think—I wish I had something to give you. You know, in return for the bread.”
She put her hand through the slot and pressed it to Sage’s face, rubbing her cheek with her thumb. Sage jumped, her cheek tingling where she’d been touched. “I’m so sorry,” said Charlie. “I didn’t know that would hurt you.”
Sage shook her head. “No—I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just… uh, well—you’re the first person that’s touched me, well, in a while… Since I got here, actually.”
“I thought you said you’d been here for four years?”
Sage’s chin trembled as she nodded.
She’d been here a long time. She remembered watching sunsets with her mom on the Kauai beaches. Running along the sand with their yellow dog, Max. Tossing him a Frisbee for most of the day. He’d been a stray when they found him, and somehow, that had made him all the more hers. Two wild hearts that found one another.
The memories were distant and fragile now; they clung to the corners of her mind like cobwebs. She was just as much a prisoner as Charlie. The kind words Miranda offered her each month were never enough. The warmth of Charlie’s hand on her cheek made her realize the frost that had settled on her heart and the numbness that had enveloped her since her mother’s death.
She shoved the key into the cell’s lock. The door opened with a hiss. She put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. It was bony, hard, like the porcelain sinks in the kitchen. She felt hairs tingle along her spine. Charlie was warm.
Charlie patted her hand. “You all right?”
Sage straightened her dress. She’d worn it every day for the past three years. “I’m sorry, miss,” she said, catching her breath. She shouldn’t have come in here. Or stolen the bread. She’d be beaten if the guards found out. “Sorry, Charlie.”
Charlie laughed. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”
It had been so long since Sage had heard laughter.
“What are you even sorry for?” Charlie continued. “You brought me food. I think I’ll be okay if you touch my shoulder for a minute. It’s a bit bony, though. Starvation and all that junk.”
Sage smiled and put her hand back on Charlie’s shoulder. It was odd, but Sage didn’t mind. She’d been alone too long to be bothered by strangeness. She didn’t have any peers or any real friends.
The closest thing she had to regular interaction was the stories she’d tell to the occasional mouse. She’d find them hiding in the kitchen’s cracks. She usually pretended they didn’t talk back because they were good listeners who really liked her stories. After being yelled at most of the day, it was nice to have someone just listen.
“I talk to mice, sometimes,” she said finally.
Her face burned red. She could’ve slapped herself. Charlie was the first girl her own age she’d met in five years, and this was what she said to her? Maybe it was good she didn’t talk to people much.
“I’ve found they’re quite good listeners,” said Charlie.
“The best,” agreed Sage.
“Besides,” Charlie continued, “there aren’t a lot of options around here. At least from what I’ve seen.” She was right. There weren’t a lot of options. “I’d get lonely too, if I lived here for four years. And animals are always so willing to listen. I know it sounds crazy, but once I helped some snails cross the street…”
Sage laughed. Maybe she wasn’t so odd. Maybe she was normal. She felt herself get bold. “And I can burp the alphabet,” she announced.
“That’s pretty great,” said Charlie, laughing. “A little odd, but still great.”
Well, maybe she wasn’t normal, but maybe it didn’t matter. She promised herself she’d teach Charlie how to burp the alphabet.
Someone banged on the cell door across from Charlie’s. The prisoner in fifteen had been moved to fourteen earlier in the week. The chancellor was worried the inmate’s behavior would disturb Charlie’s “progress.”
Sage pulled the door shut behind her. It was just her and Charlie now. She worried Charlie’s eyes might have wandered across the hall. That she might ask questions. Questions Sage wasn’t prepared to answer.
The chancellor had been kind with his punishments for Charlie thus far, despite her resistance. If she held out until the end of the week, however, Sage wasn’t sure she’d be so lucky. Starvation was humane by the chancellor’s standards, and far better than the methods used by the Minister of Defense & Patriotism.
Minister Zane had less than a year left before his fiftieth birthday and euthanization, and the faster his own death approached, the more quickly he brought others to theirs. Sage had heard rumors of his experimental methods involving dogs and nuclear waste from the Moku Lani reactor. He said it helped enemies of the state remember things more “willingly.” By the time he was through with them, however, Sage guessed they would confess to anything.
“Sage?” Charlie said quietly. “I need to get out of here.”
Sage’s stomach sank. She’d heard this before. From the others.
“I’ve got someone out there—people. People who need me—people I’ve gotta see, you know? People I care about. You have people like that, right?”
Sage shook her head. Since her mother’s death, she’d had no one. Nobody cared about Sage Penderbrook. Not even Charlie. They all just wanted to use her. Even the mice did, if she was being honest.
“You’d have to come with me, of course,” said Charlie. “I couldn’t leave you behind. You’ve been so kind to me. The bread meant a lot.”
Sage smiled. The other prisoners always told her they were going away, leaving this place forever. But they never invited her to go with them. That was the sort of thing friends said to each other. Sage hadn’t had a friend in a long time.