Elliott glanced at me nervously. “You swear you’re not a snitch?”
“I’m not stupid,” I said. “You’re the one holding the gun, not me.”
“She’s my friend,” added Noelle as if that settled it. He pursed his lips, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.
“Not our whole lives,” he said at last, his shoulders slumping. “Just since we were ten.”
I saw this for what it was—as much of a seal of approval as I was going to get from him, at least for now. I smiled slightly. “That’s a long time,” I managed, my throat threatening to close up again. Was this what my life with Benjy would have been if we’d both been sent here instead?
“We grew up together in Section J before he was promoted,” said Noelle, her eyes shining as she gazed up at him. “He’s my best friend.”
I turned away briefly, swallowing hard and struggling to keep it together. “Yeah?” I said, my voice breaking. “And now...”
“And now we’re waiting for Noelle’s placement to be approved.” There was an edge to Elliott’s words, as if he were daring me to challenge him. “She’s been in Section X for months. It should be coming through any day now.”
“Any day,” said Noelle blissfully. “And then we’ll get to be together.”
They kissed again, and everything I’d been struggling to hold back threatened to rear up once more. “I’ll just be...” I trailed off, not bothering to finish. Instead I trudged back into the dark alleyway, turning away as they spoke in hushed tones. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, and I gulped in the cold air, fighting to keep my head above the quicksand. Not here. Not like this.
For one horrible moment, I considered blackmailing Elliott into using his gun. It would be easy—threaten to tell the Mercers about him and Noelle if he didn’t do it. If he shot me in the back of the head, it would be quick and painless for both of us. I wouldn’t have to watch him pull the trigger, and he wouldn’t have to look me in the eyes while he did it. No one would ever have to know why.
But when I glanced over my shoulder and saw him murmuring into Noelle’s ear, the idea died within me. I couldn’t do that to him, not when he and Noelle were so close to their own happiness. I would find another way to die.
In the meantime, I couldn’t watch them. Shoving my numb hands into the pockets of my jumpsuit, I began to trudge back toward the center of the compound, hoping against hope I’d spot someone or someplace I recognized.
I didn’t make it more than a few dozen feet before an air horn went off, echoing throughout the entire section.
“Lila!” cried Noelle, and I turned around. Elliott had disappeared, and she ran toward me, her footsteps echoing between the buildings. “Come on, we can’t be late.”
“Late for what?” I said. She looped her arm in mine and once again dragged me down another street, toward the center of the gray buildings.
“When the warning goes off, we have to go,” she said. A handful of men and women emerged from nearby buildings, and we followed them.
“Go where?” I said, but she shook her head and didn’t respond. Even more citizens appeared, joining us until a crowd formed. We all seemed to be heading in the same direction, but no one said a word about what was happening. Even Noelle was strangely silent, her face pale and her nails digging into my arm.
Another horn went off two minutes later, and Noelle quickened her pace. I had to all but trot to keep up with her as we wove in between the others. A handful of women toward the front of our group chattered, and their voices carried as we neared them.
“—couldn’t be Darcy. They only took her this morning,” said one woman, her arm wrapped around the shoulders of another.
“You know damn well that doesn’t matter,” said the second woman in a cracked voice. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Last month, when they took Monica, she was in the cage hours later.”
“The cage?” I said to Noelle. “What are they talking about?”
Her mouth formed a thin line. “That,” she said, nodding toward a domed structure on a raised platform a few hundred feet in front of us.
In the middle of Washington D.C., it could’ve sat on the side of the street and been considered art. But in a place as gray and utilitarian as Elsewhere, everything had a purpose. As we moved closer and I got a better look, a sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, and suddenly I understood what everyone was talking about.
It was a human-sized cage. Guards surrounded the base of the platform, each holding a rifle identical to Elliott’s, and their frowns seemed set in stone. Noelle grabbed my hand and pushed our way to the front of the crowd, and we leaned against the cold metal barricade that kept us a good ten feet from the cage itself. I searched for any sign of a door either on the base or the cage that rose above our heads, giving everyone in the surrounding crowd a view, but I couldn’t spot anything.
“What’s happening?” I said. Noelle found my hand and clutched it, smashing my cold fingers together. I squeezed back.
“Detention,” she said, her voice breaking. I shut my mouth. Somehow I doubted the word meant the same thing here as it did back in the D.C. educational system.
A third and final horn went off from the top of the cage, and I winced. The crowd went silent, and everyone around me seemed to be holding their breath.
The screech of metal against rusted metal echoed through the square, and two figures rose from either end of the cage. The girl nearest me had dark hair that hung in a messy braid, and it was only when she glanced around that I saw her face.