Dark Eden by Patrick Carman Page B

excited? It won’t be long now.
    I guess I am. It’s so mysterious, you know? Kate says she can’t remember what happened; she just woke up and knew.
    It will be the same for you.
     
    I was drawn rapidly out of sleep and stood before the wall of monitors.
    “I can hear you,” I said, barely hearing my own voice through thick foam and cracked plastic. “I can hear what you’re saying.”
    “So anyway, I just wanted to say everyone went to sleep. You know me, always the last one.”
    Marisa glanced at the floor and then back at the screen as if she was looking at me, not Dr. Stevens.
    “Just a little longer. Hang in there, okay?”
    “Okay. Sorry to call so late.”
    “It’s never a problem, Marisa. Anytime.”
    Marisa got up out of the chair, and I heard the door open and close.
    “I gotta move, and fast,” I said, jamming the stuff in my backpack that I’d poured out on the floor. It was amazing how fast I’d turned the bomb shelter into something that looked more like my room back home. I hadn’t just dumped out my pack, I’d stacked things in piles. Extra clothes, my Recorder and Keith’s MP3 player, a mountain of Clif Bars, bottles of water all in a row. I’d stacked it all neatly against the wall while emptying my bag, then neglected to put it all back once I had on the super-sized headphones. I took less care putting my things away, stuffing the shirts and then the bars and the bottles like a marine packing to get out of a foxhole under fire. The headphones were still on, that slight sound of static dancing in my ears; and then voices appeared, crisp and unexpected, and I turned to the wall of monitors. The room was still empty, but Dr. Stevens was speaking to someone who had a gravelly old voice. Rainsford. Had to be.
     
    She’s not ready yet. Better finish off the boys first.
    I can take them both at once. It’s what they want. I’ve seen to it.
    We’re not even halfway there. Don’t overdo it. And we still haven’t found Will Besting.
    Davis will find him. I have little doubt of that.
     
    There was a static-filled pause, the click of a button, and then more.
     
    I’m not sure she can be trusted.
    Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she can. She’ll play her part; I’ll see to it.
    Fine.
     
    Off channel marker. 12:21 AM .
    I took off the headphones and pulled the plugs from the wall, my ears adjusting to dead silence.
    I’m not sure she can be trusted.
    I didn’t want to know what that meant, but there it was: one of us wasn’t who they appeared to be. Someone was in on whatever was happening, a she . Kate Hollander or Avery Varone, I told myself. It’s one of them. They’re keeping an eye on everyone, making sure no one steps out of line. One of them is a mole.
    I walked into the basement and put the headphones back into the lunch pail, returning it to the top shelf, and then finished packing my things away. I was tired of carrying my backpack around and hid it on one of the shelves in the basement. One back pocket filled with my Recorder, the other with my paperback copy of The Pearl , and I was ready to go.
    All the while, a single thought ran through my head, over and over, until I was up the ramp and pushing the door open into Fort Eden.
    Please don’t let it be Marisa.
     
    She sat closer to me on the couch from the start, and she looked at me as if she’d missed me. Thoughts of betrayal were already melting away, but I was cautious, a little guarded.
    “I hope Rainsford doesn’t come out here and catch us. Or Mrs. Goring. That would be bad.”
    She told me they wouldn’t, brushing over it as if it didn’t really matter, and I began to worry that the whole thing was a setup. Everyone would arrive, all at once, and I’d be trapped. Mrs. Goring from the basement, Rainsford from the winding stone stairs, the other kids from the back rooms; they’d crawl out from every corner of the fort like rats and corner me.
    “Don’t be nervous, Will,” Marisa said. She knew me