The next day rose like a cactus through broken sidewalk. Silas hadn’t slept much at all that night and the moment he tried to stand up his head felt like it would split in two and fall off. Patton had slept on the floor near the toilet and didn’t seem to be feeling much better. He groaned and splashed water on his face. When the bell rang Silas stumble to get in line.
It took Patton much longer and when the doors opened and he entered the hall, Silas could see that everyone was feeling pretty much the same. Eyes were red, hair stuck straight up on guys who usually cared and there was a general shuffling of feet that was not normally heard on the way to breakfast. Yet for how tired the boys were, there was also a tension that only increased when the breakfast rations were the size of a tablespoon.
The food dispenser had been replaced. But there were still scuff marks on the counter and dents in the wall. Two broken chairs were tossed into the corner with a three-legged table. The rest of the cafeteria was business as usual. Silas sagged into his seat and tried not to think of how hungry he was.
“To Freddie and Dan,” Stephen said before popping all of his food in his mouth.
Marcus nodded and glared over his shoulder at where Tymas stood. “We need to do something.”
“Like what?” Patton asked. “You saw what happened when they tried to do something. What makes you think your idea would work any better?”
Stephen let out a frustrated sigh. “And doing nothing is better? Just letting them walk over us and do whatever they want?”
Patton shrugged. “All I’m saying is that the way Freddie and Dan went about it obviously doesn’t work.”
“Don’t say their names,” Marcus hissed leaning over the table. “Dan was my cellmate and he didn’t deserve that.”
“Cool down,” Stephen said quietly. He jerked his chin at where Westminster, newly patched up, was talking to Lloyd. Both guards looked in their directions and then Lloyd made his way over to their table.
Stephen and Marcus settled into their seats, their backs straight, while Patton just ducked his head and Silas fiddled with his spoon. Instead of walking past them, Lloyd stood right behind Silas and said, “800190, you need to come with me.”
Marcus shot Silas an angry look. It was one Silas understood. Life in the Cartiam was structured by routine and Silas leaving the group in the morning and returning in the afternoon was not a part of that routine. Anything out of the ordinary was suspicious, untrustworthy.
As he stood up, Silas tried to ignore the questioning look in Stephen’ eyes, the one that asked why he was going somewhere else again. He followed Lloyd out of the cafeteria and into the control room where the collar was attached around his neck. Then Silas followed Lloyd into the main house.
They arrived just in time to see Jamar hop down the last steps.
“We’re going outside again today,” Jamar announced and he pointed to the bag at the bottom of the stairs. Lloyd didn’t say anything, so Silas walked over to the bag and picked it up. They exited the big doors and Silas walked out into the bright sunshine. There was something about stepping into the light without a wall in the distance that made Silas feel lighter, giddy almost. He could run in a straight line that went on forever. He wasn’t penned in. Jamar didn’t charge into the woods like they had last time. Instead he stopped when they were twenty feet from the door.
“The weather is perfect. You can almost see the main mountain range,” Jamar said pointing to the large hills in the distance.
“Is the town close to the mountains?” Silas asked. He glanced at the bag’s cloth strap and pulled at a loose string.
“Pretty close.”
“Closer than we are to the town?”
Jamar laughed and turned to face the path that led to the town. “Maybe. Why? Are you thinking of escaping?”
Silas let out a small laugh and Jamar didn’t seem to notice, although it sounded more forced to Silas’ ear than he would have liked.
“Get the swords out,” Jamar said his back still facing Silas.
Crouching over the bag, Silas fished the two swords out.
“Here,” Silas said. He held both hilts out because he couldn’t remember which one Jamar used. Jamar spun around and took the sword on the right. He pulled it out so fast Silas had to jerk his hand to keep from getting cut.
“Ready?” Jamar asked.
Silas grabbed the hilt of his sword and discovered his hand was already sore, but he nodded and said, “I think so.”
In a flash, Jamar swung at his chest and Silas had time to block. Then he swung at Silas’ head and followed up with a swipe at his legs. Both of which Silas had time to block. Perhaps Jamar was warming up, because the blows didn’t come as fast or quite as hard as they had the day before. Even so, Silas’ palm hurt and it was hard to hold the sword tight. Jamar swung again and this time Silas’ sword flew out of his hand and landed ten feet away. Silas jogged over to get it and Jamar followed him.
“You know,” Jamar said. “You’re holding your sword too tight. If you just grip with your thumb and first two fingers, you will have better control. And let your two other fingers relax. It might help you hold onto it longer.” Jamar laughed a bit after the last part.
Silas tried to loosen his ring and pinkie fingers, but they were so stiff they straightened out. It seemed there were only two extremes those fingers would allow: sticking out or tightly clenched. He shook his hand out and this time managed to get his fingers to relax some.
Jamar waited for Silas to look up and then attacked again. Silas blocked and his sword flopped to the ground.
“Now you’re holding it too loose.”
“I figured.” Silas muttered.
He picked up his sword and faced Jamar.
“You try attacking,” Jamar said.
Silas swung at Jamar’s chest. Jamar stepped to the side and knocked Silas’ sword to the ground.
“You’re holding it too--”
“I know,” Silas said picking up his sword.
“So hold it tighter.” Jamar started to swing his sword at Silas’ neck.
“What is going on?” A man asked. Silas glanced over his shoulder to see who it was and felt Jamar’s sword crash into the collar around his neck. The blow was somewhat lighter than the others and Silas didn’t think it had pierced the skin. The collar had managed to absorb most of the blow, but it felt looser than it was before.
Silas touched around the collar as a skinny man Silas had never seen before, with an incredibly thin neck that made his Adam’s apple bob out, walked over to them. The tip of his fingernail caught on something. Sure enough, there was a crack in the collar. It was probably not designed to withstand a sword blow.
“Carlyle, you’re here,” Jamar said. His voice was high and pinched. A faint ringing sounded off in the distance.
“What is this?” Carlyle marched up to them.
“We’re practicing.”
“We?”
“I.” Jamar corrected himself. His voice sounding more strained. “I’m practicing.”
Carlyle turned his attention to Silas. His brown eyes narrowed as he took in Silas’ faded brown shirt and pants and the collar around his neck.
“And this?” Carlyle asked his condescending tone rang in Silas’ ears.
Jamar shrugged. “I needed someone my size to fight with and you aren’t enough of a challenge.”
The air whooshed around Silas and his whole head began to ring. Silas felt around the collar, but when he touched it again it zapped him and he started seeing spots. The ringing filled his ears and Silas felt his insides twist with the certainty of what was happening.
The implant was going off. Again. Silas started for the main doors. If he could get inside the walls, he hoped the implant would calm down and not make him sick.
Carlyle pointed his finger in Silas’ face. “You will not leave until I say you can leave.”
“My imp--” Silas started to explain, but Carlyle cuffed the side of his hea
d and the ringing grew louder.
“You will not address me unless I ask you a direct question and then you will limit your response to one word. Do you understand?”
Silas tried to nod, but every movement made his head ache and his vision blur. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to pass out. He heard Carlyle say something to Jamar and Jamar retorted back, but he couldn’t understand anything except the sirens blaring inside his head. Darkness clouded around him. Sticking his hand in front of his eyes did nothing. For a moment he even wondered if his hand was really there and he kept moving it even though he couldn’t see his own fingers.
Just as Silas thought he could get used to not seeing or hearing, the pain started. Like the crack of a whip it snapped down his spine and Silas couldn’t keep his knees locked. He crumpled to the ground and some of his senses started to return in strobe flashes.
Jamar stared at Silas in surprise and took a step toward him.
Darkness and pain.
“--your father saw what I did, he would--” Carlyle was saying.
Silence.
Light again and Jamar was stomping away. Carlyle yelled something, but Jamar would not answer.
The cloud returned heavier than ever.
Make it stop. Please make it stop. Silas thought the words over and over. But the pain only increased until Silas’ whole body shook and he thought for certain that he would pass out. Only his body must have had greater endurance than he thought and seconds, minutes and hours converged on him at once, until it seems as though he had been lying on the ground for an eternity. Every second the pressure in his head and around his spine increased by a small fraction that Silas could feel pounding in his temples. Even when he thought it couldn’t get worse, the next moment it would. His head felt like it was about to explode. He knew he would die if someone didn’t do something.