The Maze: Three tales of the future Page 2

“Hey.” His voice was soft. “Before I forget. What’s your name?”

  “Eppie Langtry.”

  “I’m Henry, Henry Su. But everyone calls me Hank.”

  “Can I call you Henry?”

  “Uh, I guess. Sure.”

  “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

  Hank

  He’d found her! He’d found the girl. Hank didn’t even care that she wanted to call him Henry. No one ever did. In fact, Hank liked that he could be Henry, if just for this girl.

  “I’m over here,” he called.

  “It’s like you’re everywhere.” She laughed, and the sound flowed through the space, seemed to fill it.

  “I think it likes it when you laugh,” he said.

  “So you think it’s ... something, too.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t know what.”

  “I almost want to say it’s not here.”

  “Oh, it’s here.”

  “I mean …” She sighed, and that too, traveled through the walls. “It’s from somewhere else, or another dimension, one that was rolled up small, but now is stretched thin.” She paused, then added, “That’s why it’s cold. That’s why it hurts.”

  “Who did the stretching?”

  This time, Eppie’s exhale filled his ears. They both knew the answer to his question. Whoever did the stretching also shoved them inside every morning.

  “Why did it pick us?” Hank asked, his voice quiet. “I mean, you’re special.” Hank knew she was. The trust fall proved that. “But I’m nobody. Average grades, average test scores, average everything.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “I can prove it. On the outside, at least.”

  “Maybe it’s not what’s on the outside that counts.”

  “So what do we do?” he asked. “How do we help it?”

  “I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I want to feel your hand again.”

  Hank swallowed, hard. For a full ten seconds, he quite possibly forgot how to breathe. “Maybe.” He coughed. “Maybe I should hold still, and you try to find me.” He cleared his throat again and added, “It might be easier that way, since you’re on the inside.”

  He let himself melt into the wall. The surface grew softer beneath him, more pliant. From somewhere deep inside the wall came a whooshing noise, a sloshing that sounded like someone pushing through knee-deep water.

  “Have you ever seen a wheat field?” Eppie asked.

  “Only in vids.”

  “This must be what it’s like, walking through one, only the stalks are so soft.”

  A spot of heat brushed against his palms.

  “Oh, I found you!” Eppie cried out before he could utter a word.

  They stood like that, palm to palm. A circle of heat bloomed beneath their hands, spread into the wall itself.

  “Do you feel that?” she asked.

  Hank coughed again. “Yeah.”

  “I think it wants us closer together. You know, more points of contact.”

  “You okay with that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she said. “It’s like dancing.”

  Well, he wasn’t going to use that word, but yes, like dancing. They eased closer together. Was that her cheek against his lips?

  “Why do you think it needs us?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think it’s ... I don’t know, using us? Not in a bad way. I mean, I barely know you, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you last night. You know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “It feels ... right, and yet, nothing makes sense.”

  “Nothing about this last year makes sense. Weren’t you excited to get into the Academy?”

  He had been, just like his older brothers.

  “I wasn’t expecting it to be easy,” Eppie continued. “But even the training that seemed stupid at the time had a point, and you kind of knew what that was, even if you didn’t exactly.”

  Hank snorted. That was the Academy, all right. “Both my brothers graduated from here. Frederick never talks about the maze, and all Jon says is don’t stop moving.”

  But they had stopped. And now?

  “All that training,” she said, “and then they put us in here, and it feels like ... it feels like—”

  “A mistake,” he finished. “Someone’s made a mistake, and they don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Then why are they sending class after class through the maze?”

  “Maybe they were hoping for the right combination?”

  “Maybe they were hoping for us. Look.”

  Shadows played against the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor of the maze. Dark figures ran, punched walls, scratched and kicked. Hank wanted to scream. Stop! You’re not helping.

  “More than one dimension, then?” Eppie asked.

  “I wasn’t paying attention that day in class.”

  “I think this goes beyond anything they teach in class.”

  “That’s probably part of the problem.”

  The claxon bell blared, echoing through the maze with enough force to rupture an eardrum. Hank felt it shake the walls. The surface beneath his hands trembled, like a wild creature racked with fear and pain. Before the bottom fell out—before the walls melted and his feet slid through nothing—he lunged forward.

  Forget trust falls. This was a trust dive. He grabbed Eppie around the waist the same moment she clutched his shoulders. He wasn’t losing her this time.

  The second before they hit bottom, Eppie said:

  “Don’t let go.”

  Eppie

  Something about the assembly yard was different, and it wasn’t simply because she was clutching the boy, Henry. They held onto each other, and Eppie took in the grass beneath her, the sky above, a twilight blue with a nearly full moon. And yet, when she stared hard, she saw the maze, or the outline of it, floating above their heads.

  Others saw it too. Faces turned skyward. Necks, some long and slender, others thick and sturdy, were all she could see of her classmates. Another dimension? A being? Whatever it was, things were different.

  Matrons and wardens converged on the yard, corralling boys and girls, not even caring that they mixed the groups.

  “Find them!” someone shouted.

  “Eppie!” Chara dashed up, breathless, hair streaming from its regulation bun. “They mean you.”

  For the first time, Eppie’s gaze met Henry’s. His soulful dark eyes looked worried. “Us?” he said.

  He sprang to his feet and reached for her. Eppie grabbed on with one hand, pushing herself up with the other. Then, still clutching Henry, she ran. Their classmates parted for them, then filled the gap behind, forcing the wardens and matrons to shove, to pull out the tazons. Zaps, sizzles, and the cries of their classmates echoed behind them.

  “What are they doing?” Eppie forced out between breaths.

  “Something bad.”

  “What did we do?”

  Henry glanced at her before sprinting harder. “Something bad?”

  They raced past their classmates, intent on those last few steps to freedom. The protected forest around the Academy would shelter them. She knew enough, Eppie was sure, to survive for days in there, despite the lack of supplies. The two of them together? They’d make do.

  At the very edge, where the scent of pine filled the air, and branches reached out as if to greet them, they slammed into a wall. Not like one from the maze. This wall was thick, electrified. It sent Eppie backward, through the air, her grip torn from Henry’s.

  Her hip crunched against the earth first, a sickening sound that made her think of broken bones. She rolled, hoping that would absorb the shock. She rolled and rolled, right into a pair of white, gleaming boots. She stared up into the glowing end of a tazon.

  Eppie never raised her hands. Her mouth stayed closed. She held on, held her breath, and braced for what would happen next.

  The jolt shot through her entire body, and then he
r world went black.

  Hank

  Hank had ended his day surrounded by black. Now, waking, it was all he saw. He reached out a hand, waved it, blinked, and waved it again. Nothing. Either the cell was lightproof, or the tazon had blinded him.

  Or both. He’d heard about the cells. They all had. The cadre sent you there when you acted out. You were meant to reconsider your choices in this space, contemplate whether the rules were really that bad, whether the wardens and the matrons truly mistreated you.

  Life choices. We all make them, the superintendent had intoned during first-year orientation.

  Yeah. What a choice. All he’d done was what? Figure out the maze? Where was the reward for that? The accolades? He pushed himself up, tucked his legs beneath him, then reached a tentative hand above his head.

  A meter, maybe a meter and a half. Not enough room to stand and barely enough to turn around. He inched his fingers along the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. The surface snagged callouses on his hands, the texture rough-hewn and unmoving. He scraped a knuckle and warm blood oozed between his fingers.

  His head swam, an ache spreading across his skull. A panel slid back. Light flooded the space. He squinted, trying to peer out his cell, the panel, the door—or what he thought was the door—anything to give him more information.

  “The prisoner is awake,” someone said.

  Prisoner?

  “Ah, very good.” A shadow crossed the open panel. “Comfortable, Cadet Su?” a smooth voice said. “I imagine fraternizing with female cadets is a great deal more fun than this.”

  What? He never ... well, sure, he thought about Eppie, but they’d just met—sort of. Plus, they’d been inside the maze. All rules were off.

  Weren’t they?

  “Hungry?” the voice asked.

  In response, Hank’s stomach rumbled. Stupid, stupid. It made him look weak. Of course, getting thrown into a pitch-black cell didn’t make him appear all that strong, or smart, either.

  “Well then,” the voice said, the solicitous tone chilling Hank’s thoughts. “Why don’t we have a little chat?”

  Eppie

  The straight-back chair was unremarkable except for one thing: Eppie couldn’t move. Her bare feet were flush against the floor. The surface flashed hot, then cold. She jerked against invisible bonds, unable to break contact. Sweat bathed her forehead, trickled down her spine.

  “You’re making it too hard on yourself,” the matron said. “Simply tell us what happened. Then you can go back to the dorm, have a nice dinner, see your friends.”

  A false promise. She’d been trained—they all had—in resisting interrogation. Why did this matron think such simple offers would work now? The floor flashed again, a searing heat that forced a yelp from her throat.

  That. It was one thing to read about torture, quite another for someone to cook the soles of your feet.

  “You know,” the matron said. “Cadet Su told us some interesting things.”

  The matron was all sly words and looks, playing mostly good cop. Eppie had braced for the inevitable switch—a new matron, or a warden, even. Pretending that Henry had said something might be standard procedure. In this case, it wasn’t logical.

  “He told us what you did.”

  What she did? Or what they’d done together? Neither of which amounted to much. Or perhaps, it amounted to so much that no one could understand what had happened. Eppie pictured the maze floating above the yard. The cadre wanted to control something they couldn’t comprehend. And good luck with that.

  “You can’t hide anything from us,” the woman said. “We have it all on vid, for playback, any time we like.”

  Then why bother asking? Eppie clamped her mouth shut. She’d stuck with the canned response, the one the cadre themselves taught. Name. Rank. Serial Number. You open your mouth, you give them an opening. Speak and you’ll eventually say something you don’t mean to—or can’t take back.

  “So, you don’t mind that Cadet Su, that Hank, betrayed you?”

  Perhaps someone named Cadet Su would betray her. And Hank? Well, how could you trust a Hank? Eppie shut her eyes and pictured Henry, his dark silky hair, his warm hands against her, around her waist, palm against palm as they ran. Maybe the Academy did have vids. But clearly their knowledge didn’t add up to much if they didn’t know the difference between Hank and Henry.

  Eppie stared straight at the matron and laughed.

  Hank

  He knew the beating would come the moment laughter burst from his mouth. Cadet Langtry had betrayed him? Eppie? The few glimpses of the girl he’d had over the past two days told him how rock steady she was—much more than he was, that was for sure. How smart she was. After four years of training at the Academy, couldn’t the cadre see that?

  Maybe they did and figured he was the idiot in the equation. Well, that was partly true, because he had just laughed, loud and long, at their ludicrous suggestion. Another round with the tazon? Sure, why not? Tossed, bruised and battered, back into his pitch-black cell? Not surprising.

  What surprised him were the questions—not the ones about Eppie, but the others. What was the maze made out of? How did they get inside the walls? (And really, only Eppie had, so why ask him?) The cadre controlled the entrance and exit, herded them through the maze day after day. Yet, they knew so little. Which made him, and Eppie, and their classmates what? Lab rats?

  He pressed gentle fingers against his eyes. They were swelling shut, both of them, not that it mattered inside the cell. Still, it was so dark, he was afraid he’d forget whether his eyes were open or closed. He wondered if Eppie were doing the same, testing her own bruised eyes. He hated to think of her that way, hated that maybe it was all his fault. He pressed a hand against the wall, wishing for one intense moment that it was the maze again, that he’d detect her warmth, find her again.

  “Henry?”

  The soft voice made him bolt upright. He should have smacked the hell out of his forehead and given himself a second concussion. Instead, the rough stone gave way—like in the maze.

  “Eppie?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Inside the maze.”

  Eppie

  Eppie couldn’t say when the floor beneath her bruised limbs cushioned rather than punished. Her hip stopped aching, then her ribs. She dozed, possibly, before her eyes went wide with amazement.

  She was inside the maze again, but it was more than that now. Actually, when she considered it, the maze had always been more than that. It was something unto itself. And it wasn’t tethered to this world any longer. It had broken free. They’d seen that in the yard. But it hadn’t left. It had come back.

  For her?

  Yes, and not just for her.

  “Let’s find Henry,” she told it.

  And so they traveled. High above the Academy, Eppie breathed in the panic below. Hovercrafts for on-planet use, space transport, footlockers and bags scattered in the yard, and parents streaming through the halls in search of their children. Her stomach tightened. Her own parents? Had they been notified? Or was she not part of that world anymore?

  The maze carried her through the long corridors of the Academy. She eavesdropped on hurried meetings, press conferences cut short. A scandal, with two cadets dead due to unauthorized experiments.

  Dead?

  “Please,” she told the maze. “Where’s Henry? Is he all right?”

  So they floated lower, and lower, beneath the first floor, the basement, into the catacombs that fueled so many rumors among the cadets.

  “All true?” she wondered out loud.

  They passed her own cell. Her uniform, ghostly white, flat and listless, was crumpled on the floor. Perhaps the urge to lose her uniform had been right all along. She certainly didn’t need it now.

  A sob echoed through the dark hall and wrenched her heart, but she was powerless to console the mourner. The maze continued down the hall, down another level. Eppie held up h
er hand, like she had the first time she’d met Henry inside the maze.

  “I’ll know him,” she said. “Just go slowly.”

  And so it did.

  “There. There he is.” That telltale warmth, the palm that fit against her own. Henry. “He’s never been inside,” she added. Not like she had. She knew the maze, and it knew her, but Henry? They hadn’t gotten to that point.

  “I think he’ll trust you now. Will you try?”

  And so the maze did.

  “Eppie?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Inside the maze.”

  He coughed, and his whole body shook with it. The maze trembled as if it too were in pain.

  “Let go,” she told Henry. “Just let go.”

  “How?”

  “Take my hands.”

  Palm to palm, then laced fingers. She pulled him up, the now useless uniform empty and deflated on the floor.

  “Where are we?” Henry asked.

  “I’m not completely sure, but I think we’re inside a baby universe,” she said. “It was an experiment, here at the Academy, for years and years, and no one knew.”

  “Except for the cadets they ran through it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what is it now?”

  “Now I think it’s evolving.” Her voice was hushed. “And I think it’s evolving because of us, because we tried to find each other, because—”

  “We knew there was something more.”

  They floated up, up, up, out of the catacombs, through the Academy, and hovered over the chaos of the yard. Then they went higher, into the stars.

  “It’ll need room to expand,” Eppie said.

  “Babies can’t stay little forever.”

  Eppie laughed and shot forward, her form ethereal now. Henry caught her, and they twirled.

  “Someday, we’ll have to settle down,” he said. “All three of us.”

  But for now they were simply a boy and a girl, with an entire universe between them.

  What Little Remains

  IN THE MORNINGS, I slip out the broken window so anyone still living in this building will not hear me. Footfalls echo in the empty hallway, and since debris blocks the stairwell to the roof, no one climbs to the top anymore.