“What the hell does that mean, You won’t want to take too long?” Farrah asks. Her voice sounds strange, nervous.
“It means we’re going to have motivation,” Hartley says.
There’s a thunk thunk thunk, and a panel of floor lights comes to life on the ground, slithering out into the bowels of the factory. The silhouette of snaking pipes and a high ceiling juts out from the dark. A low beeping blares through the loudspeakers.
Lyla clears her throat. “So. Who’s going first?”
“Too late.” We follow Farrah’s line of vision to find Hartley already marching down the path, disappearing into the pools of shadow.
“What’s with her tonight?” Lyla asks.
Farrah pretends to be looking for something in her purse, making a concerted effort not to meet my eyes.
It’s…weird. I’d always thought Farrah was the definition of cool and confident. Now I see how much of that is an act, how deeply insecure and scared she really is.
I turn in a small circle, peering into the dark. “Well, what now?”
“Now we wait,” Lyla says.
There’s a pause; then Farrah says, “I think we should look around. Maybe we can find who’s behind this.”
“And then what?” Lyla asks. “Challenge them with our lip gloss? Who knows if these people have a weapon? Scratch that, they definitely have weapons after we went after that guy at the swamp. And I’m sure they’re not going to be too happy to know we’re out looking for them again. You heard what that guy said about behaving. He’s warning us. Besides, Hartley’s alone in there. What if they want to retaliate? What if they use her against us? Threaten to kill her or something if we step out of line?”
The number of possible consequences is staggering. The Society has us exactly where they want us.
“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Farrah says.
“Let’s just…sit down and wait.” Lyla finds a spot against a wall and folds her legs underneath her. Farrah sits across from her, and I follow.
Wind shudders against the windows. Metal clangs from somewhere deep inside the building. I wrap my arms around my knees, wondering what Hartley is facing. What’s waiting for us at the end of that path? Something better done fast. A maze in the dark? A fistfight until someone is KO’d? I shudder. Lyla’s probably right. There’s no use imagining what it’ll be. It could be anything.
Farrah toys with a silver bracelet on her wrist, looking out into the menacing dark. I wonder if she got it as a reward for finishing the swamp dare or if it was a gift from Hartley.
My tired brain grinds like cogs in a machine.
I hadn’t thought about it before, but the gifts, the grand prize—it’s strange, in a way. It isn’t enough for the Society to threaten us with exposing our secrets—they ply us with the promise of rewards too. Threaten us with punishments. It seems so…desperate. They don’t trust themselves, their power over us.
The thought isn’t as comforting as it should be. Desperation drives people to do crazy, unpredictable things. It turns people into monsters.
“It’s going to be weird going to the ball after tonight,” Farrah says absently, looking out into the factory.
“I know, right?” I agree.
“Ball?” Lyla asks, fighting a yawn.
“Just some charity thing we’re going to,” I explain.
“Together? Well…that sounds fun!”
I know she’s just trying to dispel the tension, but I can’t match her enthusiasm. Maybe tomorrow, but not right now.
I check the time on my phone. Fifteen minutes since Hartley disappeared. I remember the Society’s words: You won’t want to take too long. How long is too long? What happens when you don’t finish quickly?
I shake myself out. There’s no use worrying about it right now. My turn will come soon enough.
My mind jumps back to Hartley and Farrah. It’s so…unexpected. I remember the way Hartley teased Farrah about kissing her in the car on the way to Six Flags, the way she brazenly stood around in her bra at the swamp despite Farrah’s protests, and it hits me that Hartley doesn’t want to hide their relationship. So what’s her big secret? What’s keeping her in this game other than the promise of money?
I remember her bruised, scarred body and consider her daredevil attitude. Maybe she’s just glad to have the opportunity to not be at home.
It’s all so twisted that my head starts to hurt.
Something clatters inside the building, and we all sit up fast, looking around.
“What was that?” Farrah asks.
I cock my ear toward the dark, trying to hear past the rush of my heartbeat. But it doesn’t happen again, and after a tense minute we sag back into our former positions. Farrah rubs hard at her temples.
I check the time on my phone again. Thirty-eight minutes. If Hartley took this long, just how long will it take the rest of us? I think of Mom at home, waking up early and checking in on me, finding I’m not there. Something squeezes deep in my belly.
Lyla jerks suddenly.