The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,18
it works.” He pointed to a clock above the doorway. It looked like the industrial clocks that had been scattered throughout Bay Pines, except there was only one hand, and instead of having twelve numbers, this clock was divided into four uneven slices. “That’s how the Kindred keep time for us. Right now it’s on Night—the longest block of time. That little sliver next to it is Morning Prep, when you change clothes and eat breakfast, but you have to hustle because it’s just a few minutes. The big block next to it is Showtime. That’s when you march out there and sing and smile and do whatever the Kindred want you to do. I run the bar and make the announcements, and I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Then it’s the final block of time: Free Time. About an hour, give or take, and it’s a privilege that can be revoked for bad behavior.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “You seem awfully proud for a guy who’s betraying his own kind.”
The shadows around Dane’s eyes deepened, so only the faintest glimmer of lights reflected in his irises. “Better to be working with the Kindred than against them.”
She snorted.
Dane started pacing. “What do you think, ensemble? Is she going to make it to Armstrong with an attitude like that?”
“Not a chance!” Pika yelled back.
Cora raised an eyebrow. “What’s Armstrong?”
Dane stopped his pacing abruptly. He turned toward them with an incredulous look. “No one’s told you about Armstrong yet?”
“We’ve been locked in a fake world,” Cora said. “We haven’t gotten out much.”
The smile crept back onto Dane’s face. “Allow me to enlighten you, then. Armstrong is the closest thing to home we have. It’s an uninhabited asteroid, a small moon. Well, uninhabited by Kindred or the other intelligent species, that is. It’s home to displaced humans. A nature preserve, if you will. It’s where the Kindred send all the good boys and girls when they grow up. We put in our hard time as teenagers, and if we behave, we’re taken there when we turn nineteen. We’re free to govern ourselves, do whatever we want.”
Cora eyed him warily. “The Warden told me about that place once,” she said slowly, “only he didn’t say it was paradise.”
Dane smirked, undeterred. “I thought you didn’t trust a word out of our kidnappers’ mouths.”
Cora narrowed her eyes, and Dane matched it with a thin smile. “Like I said, with that attitude, neither of you will ever see Armstrong. Do you know what they do with the ones who turn nineteen and haven’t behaved?”
Lucky, next to her, went still. An eerie quiet spread from the other cast members, who shifted uneasily in their cells.
“What?” Cora asked warily.
“I don’t know,” Dane said, and pointed toward the corridor. “But each one of those rooms in there connects to a drecktube. It’s where we dump the animals if they die, and all our trash. The bad kids go in there and they never come back. You saw it yourself, today. The boy those two guards dragged off, Chicago. Until this morning, he occupied this same cell that you’re in now. That’s his blanket you’re hugging, as a matter of fact. He’s always been a problem—never wanted to clap when the guests told him to clap, never polished the rifles on time.” His voice lingered in a way that made Cora wonder if he was telling the truth. Shoving kids down a trash chute didn’t sound like a very Kindred thing to do.
“So behave yourself, songbird,” Dane continued, “and sing for that Warden of yours, and one day maybe you’ll go to Armstrong instead of the alternative.”
He stowed the yo-yo in his shirt pocket and climbed up the stairs to his cell. Pika tried to snatch the yo-yo from his pocket, but he slapped her hand away. She curled in her corner, sucking her braid, whining softly.
From two cells down, Lucky was still strangely quiet. It was as though all his anger had suddenly emptied, and Cora didn’t know why, or what had changed. She wished she could see into his mind.
She slid her hands around the bars.
Well, maybe she could.
She’d read Cassian’s mind once, though unintentionally. She hadn’t tried to read minds while trapped in the six-by-six cell, simply because there’d been nobody to practice on. But now she had a roomful of test subjects, and a boy whose thoughts she desperately wanted to read.
She closed her eyes, concentrating. Before, when she had read Cassian’s thoughts, her mind had been