I shuffle after Tristin out of our cell and line up beside the others. I study their faces for the first time since the trial, and I can see the change there. Where once they looked confused and frightened, now there’s something else there, a hardness just beneath the surface. For the first time since we’ve been here, I get the sense from those shell-shocked faces that they’re finally starting to understand.
Slade eyes the room. “As you all witnessed for yourselves, the Trials can be quite messy at times.” Her gaze lingers on the cell vacated by Rodrigo and Mrs. Grimstone. “As such, cleanliness is of the utmost importance.”
She shares a wink and nod with the guards standing sentinel over us. “Beginning immediately, you are all assigned to clean-up detail of the competition fields, where you are to pick up all debris and scrub each area until it’s spotless. Any performance that is lacking shall be rewarded with reductions and/or cancellation of rations.”
It takes a moment to realize that she’s talking about bodies. All those poor people who were sliced and diced by the lasers. She wants us to dispose of them and wipe out any trace of their existence. They could have automated drones do this, but that would be too easy. They want us toiling away among the stench of death and decay.
“What are you waiting for?” Slade barks. “If you start now, you’ll barely have enough time before the next Trial.” A smirk stretches across her face like a sail in blustery skies. “And I assure you, you won’t want to miss it!”
She snaps her fingers and the guards step forward, prodding our line out of the chamber. Slade points a finger at Leander and myself. “You two wait here.”
Both Arrah and Dahlia crane their necks, staring back at us as they follow the other Incentives out. The two of us stand alone before Slade and the remaining armed guards.
Leander’s face is filled with venom. But behind his glare, I sense anxiety, if not downright fear. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am.
This can’t be good.
Slade’s eyes move between us. “I figured, with such qualified and elite Incentives as yourselves, it would be best to put your leadership skills on display to set an example to the others.”
She snaps her fingers and another guard appears, wheeling a bucket, an old mop, and scrub brushes, which he plunks down in front of us. Some of the water spills over the rim, splashing our feet and ankles with muddy ice.
“Some of the containment cells can get particularly grimy, so you have to make sure to get in between each crack and crevice,” Slade whispers.
Grinding gears shake the room, rattling my teeth. Rodrigo’s and Mrs. Grimstone’s cell descends and I stifle a gag. The once-clear glass is coated with reddish gunk, some chunks still glistening with moisture as they drip from the glass in a symphony of loud plops.
She tosses me the mop. “Don’t just stand there. Clean up your friend.”
“I oughtta just kill you right now and mop you up along with Rodrigo.” Leander glares at me. “He is—was—my best friend. Even before we were recruited. We went to school together. Lived in the same neighborhood. He had everything going for him. Would’a made a great Imposer if you hadn’t come along.” He wrings the scrub brush so hard, I can see the veins in his arm bulging. A stream of gore sloshes from his brush and into the bucket, spattering my cheek. It’s going to take more than a shower to feel clean after this.
My kneecaps feel like they’re about to pop from resting on them so long. “I’m sorry.”
Leander plops the mop into the bucket. “You will be, Sparkles.”
I grimace. “You do realize none of us are getting out of this alive—”
“Shut up!” He bangs the bucket against me, spilling a clump of gore on the floor with a loud plunk. “Everything out of your traitor mouth is a dirty lie!”
He shoves me aside and squats with the brush. It squeaks against the floor, reminding me of the sound of rodents.
It’s no use trying to explain anything to him. He’s too blind and brainwashed to understand. I’m just about to turn away when I notice that he’s scrawling something with his index finger in the grayish matter under the bucket’s shadow.
I crane my neck.
U were right
At first I think I must be seeing things. But one look at Leander and I can see this is no joke. His finger dips into the bloody sludge again.
They killed him, gonna kill us
His eyes pierce me, then dart to the ceiling just outside.
I follow his gaze.
Of course. There are cameras surveilling us, equipped with audio, not to mention an Imposer sentry making her rounds.
His eyes flash back to mine and he scrubs the message away. “You’ll say anything to place the blame on everyone else but your rebel self!” He brings the brush back to the bucket, wrings it again, then continues to polish.
Now it’s my turn to communicate with him. What if it’s a trap? Should I risk it? Then again, what choice do I really have? I’m going to need help to get out of here.
I slosh some of the filthy liquid onto the floor and scrawl my own message.
We have 2 work together
“You’re only getting what you deserve,” I grunt, turning away from him.
“You can’t even look me in the eyes, can you, coward?” His dripping finger scribbles another message.
What’s ur plan?
After he’s sure I’ve seen it, he scrubs it away again.
I fake a yawn. “I’d rather look at this mess than filth like you.” I make a show of scrubbing harder, then I squiggle another note.
Vent shaft in my cell after dark. Access to compound. Need tools.
This time he’s the one to wipe it away after reading it.
“Yeah,” he snickers. “Take a good look at this mess, Sparkles. Before the end of the day you’re gonna look even worse. That’s a promise.”
He doodles another message.
Already on it
His hand digs into a pocket in his pant leg and he slips something from it into his brush, continuing to scrub. His nod is almost imperceptible.
As I scrub, our hands brush against each other and we swap brushes.
Then I lean back and sit up, stretching for show again, and flip the brush over behind the bucket to get a better look.
Embedded into the brush’s bristles is a rolled-up piece of torn fabric. I pluck it out and unfurl it.
It’s a bone fragment about three inches long, jagged at both ends. Leander was probably thinking about using it as a weapon. It just might work to pry open that vent. I shudder. I can’t tell if it belonged to Rodrigo or Mrs. Grimstone. No matter. Either way, something good may come of their gruesome deaths.
I tuck the bone into the lining of my waistband, hoping they won’t search us before taking us back to our cells.
Leander scrawls another message.
Don’t worry. Will get D and A on board. No one messes with our squad.
I nod.
“What’s going on here?” Slade’s voice startles me.
“We were just finishing up, Sir,” Leander responds.
“Stand up, both of you,” she hisses in reply.
We exchange a look and climb to our feet—
That last message is still on the floor.
Slade’s eyes inspect the cell. “Hmmm. Not bad. Looks like you two deadbeats might be of some use after all.” Her gaze digs into me. “What’s the matter, Spark? You look ill. I’d have thought you’d be over your squeamishness by now.”