“All right.” He didn’t argue with that logic.
“Can you get a passkey by tomorrow?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’d be better if I waited another day or two.”
“But you could get it by tomorrow, if you really had to?” I pressed.
“I guess,” he shrugged uncertainly.
“Okay. Then… we’ll plan on tomorrow night. After supper. That’ll give you twenty-four hours to get everything in order,” I said.
Blue reluctantly agreed to it, but I knew that if anyone could help me with this, it was him. Since I’d known him, he’d proven himself to be trustworthy and capable at every turn. He went back into the building, and I made my way over to the mess hall for supper.
Now all I had to do was convince Tatum to get me inside.
– 19 –
Lazlo slept on the couch, and I didn’t try to talk him out of it, mostly because I didn’t want to talk to him. Harlow had heard us arguing earlier, I’m sure, but she didn’t say anything about it. She attempted to chat through the tension, but it didn’t work for either of us.
I went to bed right after we got back from supper so I could hide out, and I lay awake most of the night, anxious about everything. Sometime before dawn, I finally fell asleep.
Light streamed through the slits between the curtains when I awoke to the sound of someone opening the closet doors. I shifted in bed, half sitting up and pushed back the covers so I could see.
Wearing only his boxers, Lazlo sifted through the closet, looking for his clothes. Red lines and imprints stretched across his back, reminders of his night spent sleeping on the rough couch.
“Morning,” I yawned and pushed myself all the way up.
“Oh, sorry.” He looked sheepishly over his shoulder at me. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came to get some clothes so I could take a shower.”
“No, it’s okay. I should get up anyway.” I hadn’t been able to find Tatum last night, and I didn’t know how long it would take me to convince him to get me into the building.
“Oh. Good. I guess.” Lazlo turned back to picking out something, so I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to stand up.
I didn’t have pajamas to speak of, so I slept in my underwear and a tee shirt. My bare legs were covered in fading bruises and cuts. A thick scab ran over my knee, and I touched it, checking to see that it was healing without infection.
I glanced up and saw Lazlo staring back at me. Feeling self-conscious, I grabbed my pants up off the floor, and his cheeks reddened when he quickly turned back to the closet.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at a tee shirt.
“It’s fine.” I pulled on my pants. “Have you seen Tatum?”
“What?” Lazlo turned back to me in surprise, his expression bewildered. “No. I just got up. Why? What do you need him for?”
“I need to talk to him.” I slept with my hair up, but the tie had loosened, so I pulled it out and ran my fingers through the long tangles.
“Why?” Lazlo repeated, his voice tightening with anxiety.
“About my brother.” I put my hair back in a messy bun. “He was supposed to check into something.”
“Why?” Lazlo said yet again, and I didn’t feel like answering him, so I brushed past him out the bedroom door. With his clothes in hand, he went after me. “Why is this Tatum guy helping you? I thought he kind of seemed like a jerk.”
In the living room, Harlow was already up and sitting at the table, sketching something on a pad of paper. She twirled her cross absently around her neck and looked up at me when I came out.
“What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?” she asked as I slipped on my shoes.
“Yeah, I just have to find Tatum,” I opened the main door and leaned on the screen door for a minute.
“That soldier guy?” Harlow wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“Yeah, exactly,” Lazlo chimed in, giving me a hard look. “I don’t trust that guy.”
“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” I shrugged and left.
Harlow called after me, reminding me about breakfast, and I told her I’d make it if I could.
I had no idea where to look, and I didn’t exactly understand how this place was laid out. They really should’ve handed out maps when people got quarantined. I found Bishop hanging up clothes to dry, but when I asked her about Tatum, she gave me a vague, terse answer.
Ripley roared, sounding more bored than irritated, but I decided to stop by and say hey. I hated the idea of her being in a cage. Even if she was safe, it didn’t seem right to me. The cost of safety was different than what it used to be, but so was freedom. It carried a much greater risk, but I’d always believed it’d be worth it in the end.
In a turn of luck, Tatum stood outside her cage, admiring her as she paced along the fence. He had on his full camo uniform today, with his jacket hanging open, and a couple other soldiers stood next to him, laughing at something he said.
“Hey, Tatum,” I said, walking over to him. He looked back at me, and he managed to look both irritated and happy to see me.
“You know, I am a soldier, Private First Class. You could show me a little respect,” he told me when I got up to him.
“Sorry.” My cheeks reddened. “Pvt. Tatum, sir, can I talk to you?”
“Can it wait? We’re going out in the field today.”
“The field? What are you talking about?” I asked, momentarily forgetting about my incessant quest to see Max.