Strangelets Read online

Declan watched the exchange with interest—kindred spirits, apparently. Charming. Maybe later they could grab a pint and swap stories about beating the piss out of people on a lark.

  “Is she all right?” Zain asked, approaching the bed.

  “I think so.” Declan tried to sound reassuring. “Probably just recovering from a fit. My mate Michael used to have those sometimes, always slept like the dead after one.”

  “What do we do now?” Yosh asked.

  “We leave her,” Anat said, stepping into the room.

  “Leave her? You’re going somewhere, then?” Declan demanded.

  Anat waved a hand impatiently. “There must be a way out.”

  “Hang on,” Declan said. “She might wake in a bit—”

  “Anat is right, we need to go,” Nico said. “There’s no food here, nothing but water. There are enough of us now to break a hole through a wall. We’ll take shifts.”

  “I don’t know,” Yosh said in a small voice. “It seems …”

  “Good idea,” Anat said approvingly. “We’ll look for a weak spot between the support beams.” She bent down and examined the bedrail. “If we can get these off, they should be strong enough to punch through. I will get the one from my room.”

  “And we leave her alone here, with no food?” Zain said. “That seems cruel.”

  “She’ll see the hole,” Anat pointed out. “It will be easy for her to follow us.” She gazed at each of them. “You’d rather stay here and starve?”

  Declan had to acknowledge that she had a point. And he for one was eager to get back to Katie and his mum. It wasn’t as if he owed the girl in the bed anything, after all, and surely someone official would be by soon. They’d undoubtedly help her. “All right, then,” he said reluctantly. “We start on a wall. By the time we break through, hopefully she’ll have rejoined the living.”

  This was getting old fast, Sophie thought, opening her eyes. She’d spent more time awake on her deathbed. Maybe she really had ended up in hell—because whatever this place was, it clearly qualified for bizarro-land. Apparently her hospital room had been slated for remodeling while she was zonked out, because there were giant holes punched along two walls and the air was thick with plaster. Inhaling some of it, Sophie’s nose wrinkled and she sneezed. From beyond her open door, she heard distant thumps and grunts.

  Signs of human life. That was a relief. At this point she’d be thrilled to see anyone aside from that crazy girl from down the hall. Sophie had a vague memory of being shaken forcefully. They should really do something about the security around here, she thought. “Um, hello?” she called out. Maybe the nurses had finally returned. She couldn’t imagine where they’d all gone earlier; maybe they had one of those walking clubs. Her favorite nurse at the hospice, Betsy, used to go on about how they circled the hospice twenty times on their lunch break. They must’ve screwed up and forgotten to leave someone behind.

  At the thought of Betsy chugging along briskly in her hot pink scrubs and shiny white sneakers, Sophie felt a pang. She really wasn’t in the mood to start over with a new crew of nurses.

  A head suddenly popped around her doorframe. “Oh good, you’re up. About bloody time, too.”

  Sophie carefully eased up onto her elbows and examined him. Not a nurse, or anyone official-looking; just a teenage boy with a brogue. Plaster streaked his thick brown hair, and there was a smudge of white beneath his bright blue eyes. Maybe someone from the contractor’s crew?

  “Uh, hi. Could you find a nurse for me?” she asked politely.

  “Would that I could, but it’s just us.”

  “What do you mean?” Sophie asked, puzzled. “Just who?”

  “Buncha feckin’ lunatics, to be honest,” he confided in a low voice, approaching her bed. “You look to be truly ill, though.”

  “Well, yeah. Usually the patients on the oncology ward aren’t the healthiest.”

  He stopped at the foot of her bed. She frowned; the only people allowed in her room were doctors, nurses, and immediate family. Yet this construction guy was acting like it was totally normal to hang out with a patient. Man, this was a weird hospital. She almost never complained about her stays, even when they served the same meal three days in a row. But this was pushing it.

  “Cancer, is it?” He looked interested. “Still got all your hair, though.”

  Sophie ran a hand through it self-consciously; her hair felt oily and stringy. For the past week she’d told them not to bother washing it. Why stay clean when she was just going into a coffin anyway? Of course, she hadn’t anticipated receiving new visitors—especially not a teenage boy who was kind of cute, even if he was pushy. “I stopped chemo awhile ago.”

  “Yeah? Feeling better then?”

  “A little,” Sophie said. Which was true. Not quite as energetic as the last time she woke up, but all things considered she felt pretty good.

  “Excellent.” He nodded at her. “You’ll come with us, then, if we find a way out. No luck so far, but we’re still at it.”

  “Come with you?” Sophie asked, puzzled. “Where?” She wanted to add that he probably wasn’t qualified to discharge patients, but that seemed rude. She gazed past him toward the doorway, wishing for a nurse to show up and hustle him out.

  He caught her expression and said, “Right, you’re probably a bit confused. You haven’t been out of this room yet?”

  “I barely made it to the hallway.”

  “Long story short, then,” he said. “This looks like a hospital, ‘cept it has no exits. No nurses or doctors, either. And no food, which is a damned shame since I’m feckin’ starving. Declan Murphy, by the way.” He extended a hand.

  Bewildered, Sophie shook, then said, “Wait, what? This isn’t a hospital?” He’s nuts too, she thought. Even though it was fancy, this was definitely a hospital: convertible bed, check. Uncomfortable furniture, check. Tacky curtains and bad art, check. Aside from the lack of equipment, it was a model hospital room, and she should know; at this point, she was kind of an expert.

  “Madness, right?” He grinned at her. “We’re not sure what it is. And here’s where it really goes sideways. We all come from different places. You’re American, yeah?”

  Sophie hesitated but couldn’t see any harm in answering. “From California.”

  “Los Angeles?” His face brightened.

  “Palo Alto. Kind of near San Francisco,” she explained, seeing the blank expression on his face.

  “Ah, I hear that’s a lovely town. I’m from Galway,” he said. “Nico is Swiss, Zain Indian. Anat is from Israel, and Yosh is from—”

  “Let me guess, Japan.”

  Declan nodded. “Right. First, I thought they were having me on, that I’d ended up in an asylum somehow.”

  “Me, too,” Sophie admitted. Could he be telling the truth? He didn’t seem crazy, at least not like the other girl. Remembering her, she said, “I think I already met Anat.”

  “Bet that didn’t go well. She’s a charmer, sure. Anyway, we all started in different places and ended up here.”

  “Regular ‘It’s a Small World,’ huh?” Sophie said, half to herself.

  Declan barked a laugh. “You could say that, yeah. We’ve been trying to find a weak spot in the walls, but so far, no luck.”

  She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around what Declan was telling her. Maybe she was still trapped in some sort of nightmare? But no, he seemed real enough. And that was definitely not imaginary plaster dust filling her nasal cavity. But as far as this not being a hospital, and them being trapped inside … that all sounded bonkers. Still, might as well play along until someone in charge came along. “So we all come from different places, we’re locked up here, you haven’t seen anyone else, and there are no doors or windows. That about sums it up?”

  “You forgot the part about the shite service, and no clocks,” Declan said. “Plus the shower pressure is terrible.”

  “No shower pressure? Heck, then we definitely need to get out of
here,” Sophie said gravely.

  Declan laughed as if she’d said the funniest thing in the world. A giggle rose in her chest, too. It felt good—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d really laughed. She knew they were both overreacting to what, truth be told, hadn’t been a very funny joke. Still, even though it could be chalked up to a hysterical reaction, it felt good.

  “What’s your name?” he asked after a minute.

  “Sophie.” A flush rose in her cheeks. He really was cute, and he had a great laugh.

  “Right, Sophie,” Declan said gravely. “It’s settled, we need to get out. Of this room, at least.”

  “That would be a start,” Sophie agreed.

  “You all right to walk?”

  “I think so.” Sophie slid her feet out from under the covers and tugged at the hem of her nightgown, fervently wishing that she’d worn a longer one. This was an old favorite, a hand-me-down from her mom that featured a smiley face with a bullet hole in the center of its forehead. The hospice nurses had universally hated it; even her mom tried to persuade her to change out of it toward the end. But Sophie had decided a long time ago that she’d meet death on her own terms. Besides, it was the most comfortable nightgown she owned, even if it barely cleared her thighs. Declan decorously kept his eyes up while placing a hand under her elbow to steady her. “Shall we?”

  In spite of herself, Sophie had to lean on him as they made their way toward the door. They’d nearly reached it when Anat appeared, blocking their way. Wielding a long piece of metal coated with dust on one end, she growled, “Nothing!”

  Sophie instinctively shied back. The girl looked ready to club something, and judging by the look in her eyes, she wouldn’t mind starting with Sophie.

  “No luck still?” Declan asked.

  “Just more cement.” The girl dropped the bar, and it hit the floor with a clank. “All the walls are lined with it.”

  Sophie peered past her. More sloppy holes like the ones in her room dotted the hall. Construction my ass, she thought. They were tearing the place apart. And that must have made a lot of noise, she suddenly realized; why hadn’t anyone appeared to check up on them?

  Could it really be true? Were they trapped? Sophie brushed the thought away. Impossible. Odds were this was just some nutty morphine dream she was trapped in. Any minute now, she’d wake up on her deathbed. She closed her eyes and pinched her arm, wincing at the pain. She opened them to find Declan giving her an odd look.

  “We’ve tried everywhere,” Anat was saying. “There’s no way out.”

  “Sophie, this is Anat,” Declan said, patting her arm reassuringly.

  “We’ve met,” Sophie said, trying to look less scared than she felt. “Twice, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yes.” Anat blinked. “Sorry. I did not understand what was happening.”

  “No problem,” Sophie said, although the apology seemed half-hearted. “So you haven’t been able to find a way out?”

  “No.” The girl glowered at the nearest wall. “The entire hospital is encased in cement. A crazy person built this place.”

  “No argument there,” Declan murmured.

  Sophie considered suggesting that the crazy people largely seemed to be inside at the moment, but she wasn’t really up for another shaking, or worse. She understood why the others were so desperate to get out of here, but for her it seemed to be a moot point. Although if she got rid of them, at least she’d have some peace and quiet.

  “The vents,” she blurted, pointing up. “That air is coming from somewhere, right?”

  They followed her finger. Anat’s brow furrowed. “I can’t fit in there,” she said bluntly, examining the narrow metal frame. A faint gust teased her long black hair.

  “No, but Yosh can. Zain too, probably. If we get them out, they can find another exit for the rest of us!” Declan exclaimed. “Brilliant!”

  Unexpectedly, he planted a kiss square on her forehead. Sophie managed a wan smile in response. “All right, then. If you’ll just help me back to bed …”

  But he wasn’t listening. “Nico! Zain! Yosh! C’mere, we’re going to give something else a try!”

  Sophie gritted her teeth. Anat glared down at her like she was something unpleasant she’d found under her shoe. Other teenagers straggled down the hall, closing in ranks behind her: Yosh, Nico, and Zain, according to Declan. They were all bleary-eyed and covered in fine white powder.

  The gravity of the situation suddenly hit her. This was no dream. She was a prisoner, stuck here with a bunch of strangers; one of whom had already basically attacked her. And Declan, cute though he was, definitely didn’t seem like a choir boy. Her presence had to be some sort of mistake. Had the hospice accidentally transferred her to a juvie prison ward? The thought wasn’t comforting, especially since they were in the middle of plotting a prison break.

  And she’d just helped them.

  “Hey,” Sophie said, clearing her throat. “Maybe we should just sit tight. Someone will probably be coming soon.”

  Anat looked at her like she was nuts, and Declan’s eyes narrowed. “I think if they were coming, they’d have popped in by now, yeah?”

  “Well,” Sophie said, digging for an explanation. “There might have been some sort of emergency. Maybe they got stuck outside and are trying to get in.”

  “Which is why we need to get out,” Anat snapped.

  “She has a point,” Declan said. “We get out then we’ll know what’s what, yeah?”

  Sophie couldn’t come up with an argument against that, at least not without accusing them all of being psychopaths. Worse, they were staring at her like she was the freak. At least they weren’t threatening to shove her through the vents. “Right,” she said weakly. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation.”

  Anat snorted.

  Declan gestured to the vents. “So we’re thinking Yosh and Zain can get up there and crawl through, maybe find a way out.”

  “Us?” Yosh said in a small voice. Sophie didn’t blame her—nothing like having strangers volunteer you for a cramped, dangerous mission.

  The tall blond boy—Nico, she reminded herself—looked skeptical. “Well,” he said, gazing upward. “It might work.”

  “What if they don’t come back?” Anat demanded.

  “Of course we’ll come back,” Zain said indignantly.

  “I wouldn’t,” Anat scoffed.

  “You have my word,” he said stiffly. Turning to Yosh, he offered, “Would you like to go first?”

  She eyed the narrow opening nervously. “No.”

  “All right.” Zain tugged off his shirt and turned to Nico. “Give me a hand?”

  Anat paced beneath the hole where Yosh and Zain had disappeared. Occasionally they could hear rattles and clanks from above, followed by muted conversation. “It’s been too long,” she finally said.

  “It’s barely been ten minutes,” Declan snorted. “Relax and take a load off, bird.”

  “I’m not a bird,” she grumbled.

  He waved a hand. “It’s not an insult. Go on, then. Sit.”

  Anat remained standing. She found Declan’s equanimity maddening. He and Nico had settled down on the floor beside each other, leaning against the wall outside Sophie’s room. The American girl had gone back to bed, claiming to be tired. Anat still suspected that somehow Sophie was behind all this. Although in all honesty, she did appear to be ill. Or at least, much weaker than the rest of them.

  She took another small sip from the water bottle. Hard to say if the tap water was potable—she’d guess not, since there were pallets of mineral water stacked in the hallway on the boys’ side. Odd that they hadn’t been given any. But then, all of this was odd, she reminded herself.

  And despite what everyone else seemed to think, she seriously doubted that Yosh and Zain would return for them. If the situation had been reversed, she wouldn’t.

  Silence from above. Anat tried to picture the pathway carved by the vent: based on the clan
ks and groans emitted by Zain and Yosh’s passage, it snaked across the hall and down to the boys’ section. But did it really lead up from there? Whatever this place was, it appeared to be some sort of underground bunker. Much as she hated to admit it, the American girl was right: the vents were probably the only way out.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Declan asked suddenly.

  “Me?” Anat said.

  “Yes, you. I’ve already heard from nearly everyone else. Nico here was hiking, right?”

  “With my father,” Nico said, sounding bored.

  “Aye. Zain was in some sort of earthquake, and Sophie was about to die of cancer. I was about to be shot,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Shot? By who?” Anat asked, suddenly interested.

  “Russian bastard,” he said, waving dismissively. “But what I’m thinking is that we all seemed to be in some sort of danger, yeah?”

  “I suppose,” Anat said slowly, remembering the tunnel. They suffered from cave-ins all the time, she’d known that going in.

  “So maybe we were all about to die,” Declan said. “Maybe that’s the link.”

  “And what?” She snorted. “This is hell?”

  “Purgatory, more likely,” Declan said.

  “You’re serious?” Anat said, stupefied.

  “How would you explain it, then?”

  “I’m Jewish. We don’t believe in Purgatory.”

  “Which doesn’t mean it can’t exist, right?”

  “I’m not dead,” Nico said with a yawn.

  “Last thing you remember is slipping on a rock in the middle of a hike, though.”

  “So?”

  “So, maybe you went over a cliff.”

  “There were no cliffs.”

  “What about Yosh?” Anat demanded. “She was just walking to school.”

  “Haven’t had a chance to ask her yet,” Declan said. “We’ll see when she returns.”

  “If she returns,” Anat grumbled. What if he was right? What if they were, in fact, dead, and trapped somewhere? She shook it off. She didn’t believe in an afterlife, that was Christian nonsense. Declan was just trying to frighten her.

  “It is odd,” Declan mused. “I’d always figured on going straight to hell.”