“Stockade?” I shook my head, not familiar with the term.
“Yeah, it’s like prison,” he said. “It’s in the basement of the building. If you screw up enough, you either go in the stockade or you’re exiled.”
“We just won’t get caught then.”
“We couldn’t
not
get caught,” Blue shook his head. “But you’re missing the point. Even if I did get the passkey, I couldn’t get you up the third floor. I couldn’t even get you to the second floor.”
“What are you talking about? Why not?” I asked.
“Civilians are not
allowed in there. I mean, unless you’re going to the stockade, and that’d be harder to get out of than would be getting in, so don’t even think of that as an option,” he looked at me sternly.
“What about if I’m really hurt? Like if I need surgery?” I suggested. I could fake a major injury, or I could actually get one, if necessary.
“No. We come to you,” Blue explained. “That’s sealed up tight. They don’t want to risk contamination. Their research in there is the most valuable thing in the world right now.”
“Okay, so what are we looking at here?” I tried to think of it all rationally. “What do I have to get through, step by step to see Max?”
“Um, the main doors, for starters,” Blue nodded back at the guards standing by the door. “Then the first floor is all military, and they’re like frat boys in there.
“Second floor is mostly living quarters and basic first aid type stuff,” Blue went on. “That wouldn’t be so hard to get by. If you could get up there, I could get you some scrubs, and nobody’d give you a second glance.”
“Why can’t you just steal me some scrubs then?”
“The guards keep track of every person who comes in and out,” Blue said. “They’d notice that you hadn’t gone out and didn’t belong in scrubs. They have such high security at the doors, once you’re in, they assume you belong.
“If you could get past the first floor, I could get you to the third floor.” Blue chewed his lip, thinking. “If you gave me some time, I could get a pass key… but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how you’d get in the first place.”
“I can do it,” I nodded confidently, and Blue raised his eyebrow at me. “I know a guy. He can get me in.” I’m not sure how Tatum would feel about that assertion, but I could do it. I had to.
“You really think so?” Blue asked, because he clearly didn’t.
“Look, if I can make it this long in once piece, I think I can handle getting through a
door
.”
“All right.” He didn’t argue with that logic.
“Can you get a passkey by tomorrow?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’d be better if I waited another day or two.”
“But you could get it by tomorrow, if you really had to?” I pressed.
“I guess,” he shrugged uncertainly.
“Okay. Then… we’ll plan on tomorrow night. After supper. That’ll give you twenty-four hours to get everything in order,” I said.
Blue reluctantly agreed to it, but I knew that if anyone could help me with this, it was him. Since I’d known him, he’d proven himself to be trustworthy and capable at every turn. He went back into the building, and I made my way over to the mess hall for supper.
Now all I had to do was convince Tatum to get me inside.
– 19 –
Lazlo slept on the couch, and I didn’t try to talk him out of it, mostly because I didn’t
want to talk to him. Harlow had heard us arguing earlier, I’m sure, but she didn’t say anything about it. She attempted to chat through the tension, but it didn’t work for either of us.
I went to bed right after we got back from supper so I could hide out, and I lay awake most of the night, anxious about everything. Sometime before dawn, I finally fell asleep.
Light streamed through the slits between the curtains when I awoke to the sound of someone opening the closet doors. I shifted in bed, half sitting up and pushed back the covers so I could see.
Wearing only his boxers, Lazlo sifted through the closet, looking for his clothes. Red lines and imprints stretched across his back, reminders of his night spent sleeping on the rough couch.
“Morning,” I yawned and pushed myself all the way up.
“Oh, sorry.” He looked sheepishly over his shoulder at me. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came to get some clothes so I could take a shower.”
“No, it’s okay. I should get up anyway.” I hadn’t been able to find Tatum last night, and I didn’t know how long it would take me to convince him to get me into the building.
“Oh. Good. I guess.” Lazlo turned back to picking out something, so I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to stand up.
I didn’t have pajamas to speak of, so I slept in my underwear and a tee shirt. My bare legs were covered in fading bruises and cuts. A thick scab ran over my knee, and I touched it, checking to see that it was healing without infection.
I glanced up and saw Lazlo staring back at me. Feeling self-conscious, I grabbed my pants up off the floor, and his cheeks reddened when he quickly turned back to the closet.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at a tee shirt.
“It’s fine.” I pulled on my pants. “Have you seen Tatum?”
“What?” Lazlo turned back to me in surprise, his expression bewildered. “No. I just got up. Why? What do you need him for?”
“I need to talk to him.” I slept with my hair up, but the tie had loosened, so I pulled it out and ran my fingers through the long tangles.
“Why?” Lazlo repeated, his voice tightening with anxiety.
“About my brother.” I put my hair back in a messy bun. “He was supposed to check into something.”
“Why?” Lazlo said yet again, and I didn’t feel like answering him, so I brushed past him out the bedroom door. With his clothes in hand, he went after me. “Why is this Tatum guy helping you? I thought he kind of seemed like a jerk.”
In the living room, Harlow was already up and sitting at the table, sketching something on a pad of paper. She twirled her cross absently around her neck and looked up at me when I came out.
“What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?” she asked as I slipped on my shoes.
“Yeah, I just have to find Tatum,” I opened the main door and leaned on the screen door for a minute.
“That soldier guy?” Harlow wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“Yeah, exactly,” Lazlo chimed in, giving me a hard look. “I don’t trust that guy.”
“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” I shrugged and left.
Harlow called after me, reminding me about breakfast, and I told her I’d make it if I could.
I had no idea where to look, and I didn’t exactly understand how this place was laid out. They really should’ve handed out maps when people got quarantined. I found Bishop hanging up clothes to dry, but when I asked her about Tatum, she gave me a vague, terse answer.
Ripley roared, sounding more bored than irritated, but I decided to stop by and say hey. I hated the idea of her being in a cage. Even if she was safe, it didn’t seem right to me. The cost of safety was different than what it used to be, but so was freedom. It carried a much greater risk, but I’d always believed it’d be worth it in the end.
In a turn of luck, Tatum stood outside her cage, admiring her as she paced along the fence. He had on his full camo uniform today, with his jacket hanging open, and a couple other soldiers stood next to him, laughing at something he said.
“Hey, Tatum,” I said, walking over to him. He looked back at me, and he managed to look both irritated and happy to see me.
“You know, I am a soldier, Private First Class. You could show me a little respect,” he told me when I got up to him.
“Sorry.” My cheeks reddened. “Pvt. Tatum, sir, can I talk to you?”
“Can it wait? We’re going out in the field today.”
“The field? What are you talking about?” I asked, momentarily forgetting about my incessant quest
to see Max.
“Out there.” Tatum motioned towards the walls towering around us. “We go out in the field, search for survivors, kill some zombies, check things out. That’s how we found you.” He looked back over at Ripley, who roared again and swished her tail. “We were gonna take her out with us, but she’s still too wild.”
“She’s supposed to be wild. She’s a lion,” I bristled, as if he had said something derogatory about her.
“Well, we’re not taking her today.” Tatum shrugged. “But we’re going soon. So, can I talk to you when I get back?”
“Um…” I bit my lip and fidgeted. I didn’t think I could wait any longer. “This’ll just take a sec. Please.”
He sighed and nodded at his friends. One of them made some kind of joke about Tatum being whipped, so he put his hand gruffly on the small of my back and pushed me away from them.
“Look, I don’t know anything,” Tatum said in a low growl when he’d gotten out of earshot of everyone.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep bothering you, and I know that you have a job to do, protecting everybody. But I need your help.” I looked hopefully at him. “It’s really just a small little favor.”
“What?” Tatum asked wearily.
“I need you to get me in the building, just up to the second floor. Then I have a friend on the inside who can get me the rest of the way.”
“Oh come on,” he rolled his eyes.
“Please!” I stood up on my tiptoes, thinking that would somehow help my cause. “I know you can do it. You know your way around this place, and it’s not that much trouble.”
“You know you’re obnoxious, right?” He looked at me hard, his hands on his hips like a pissed off housewife. I nodded. “I don’t even know why I’m helping you.” He sighed and nodded. “All right. There’s something I can do, but it’ll have to wait until I get back.”
“After supper?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.
“That’ll probably work.” Tatum shrugged. “I’ll meet you by the mess hall. And wear something… nice. Slutty, even.”
“What?” I looked at him dubiously.
“No, it’s important.” He lowered his voice again and took a step in, but I think it was more for my benefit, like he was trying to protect me from embarrassment. “You’re cute and all, but you don’t try. And you need to look hot.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s how I’m gonna get you in,” Tatum said like I’d understand. “I’ve taken a hot girl or two back to my room, for, you know.” I must’ve looked appalled because he held up his hand. “You’re not
really
going to my room. I know you only have eyes for that punk who follows you around like a sad little puppy, but I need everyone to
think
I’m taking you back. So you gotta look hot.”
“I-I-” I stammered, not sure what part of his statement I wanted to argue with first.
“You can thank me later,” he smiled at me. “I gotta go to work.”
With that, he turned and walked back to his buddies, leaving me kind of flabbergasted. Once that wore off, I felt genuinely excited for the first time in a very long while. I had a plan, and it sounded reasonable enough.
I was going to see my brother by the end of the night.
Over a breakfast of powdered scrambled eggs, I told Harlow that I needed her help getting dolled up. Lazlo had never looked more offended, and when he made a few snide remarks about my character as a lady, I decided to let him stew in it for a while.
After lunch, she helped me pick out clothes, deciding on one of her skirts, which turned out to be comically short on me. Lazlo sulked around the trailer, unnecessarily slamming everything he could while Harlow adjusted this and that and fixed my hair. When she was done, I definitely looked hot, but I felt stupid.
Right before I was about to leave to meet Tatum, I finally told Lazlo and Harlow what was really going on. Harlow looked mildly disappointed that I wasn’t actually into Tatum, and Lazlo apologized profusely. I accepted, because I’d found his huffing and puffing all day rather amusing.
I didn’t tell either of them about the stockades or the possibility of exile, because I didn’t want to worry them. They both looked concerned enough about the plan, although that lessened a bit when I explained that Blue was involved.
I don’t think they were thrilled about the whole thing, but there was nothing they could do to stop me. Nothing had stopped me yet.
When I was standing by the green tent, fiddling with the hem of my skirt, I started getting nervous for the first time. Breaking into see Max could result in me being forcibly separated from him forever, by either imprisonment or banishment.
But if they weren’t going to let me see him anyway, it didn’t make that much of a difference. Besides, if I could break in once, I could do it again.
Tatum whistled when he saw me, so I took that as a good sign. He had dressed down to a snug green tee shirt and camo pants, his dog tags clinking against the muscles of his chest. He strode over, in that exaggerated confident walk of his, and grinned broadly at me.
“You look great,” he said.