Outside the Box - Chapter 9

9 

Three days later, I finally have a group of people who trust me. 

Miguel will sit near me now - which is an improvement. But he’s still a little miffed at me for asking about his past. The guy can hold grudges. 

Aspen has been encouraging me to socialize with the Hidden. Some of them are cool, I guess. They talk to me, I talk to them. The only person I’ve really been able to bond with is Warner - and he doesn’t talk much. 

I suppose I just feel misunderstood about everything. I grew up in a simulation and escaped a computer system by jumping off a building and killing myself. Now, I come here to a world of danger and a evil government, a dam holding us back. No one can really relate to what I’ve been through - except Warner. 

Although he’s quiet, he group up in Social, which means he values social constructs more than anything. In Social, I expected it to be all about celebrities and popularity. But in reality, Warner says it’s very close to Emotional. The people talk to each other and encourage each other to be social. Yes, people who are famous generally get better treatment and it’s everyone’s goal to be up in the penthouses. 

But Warner also says they value social health and having good friends. Supposedly, everyone gets a week of fame some time in their life. Warner says his father was an award winning artist for a month, and his mother was known for her weather reports for two weeks. 

It doesn’t sound like a terrible place to live at first, but when Warner describes it deeper I begin to wonder how many of these kids have really suffered. 

Of course, all of the Clans are beginning to crumble. 

But Social is falling apart because its main source of income was entertainment. Well, no one wants entertainment anymore - the economy is failing. 

Warner says the system has been collapsing for a decade now. Sometimes, when the food is scarce, they’ll have “Purges”. People who aren’t “good enough” are killed. When I ask Warner about which people are killed he falls silent. Aspen tells me later introverts are normally purged first, and Warner was almost purged himself before his father saved him and gave up his own life for his son. 

When Warner got sent to the Box, his mother fought back only to be murdered as well. 

I guess Warner and I have similar experiences - kind of. He’s not a bad person once you get past his barriers. I wouldn’t want friends either if everyone expects you to be happy all the time. 

On the third day of hiding from patrols, Miguel finally makes an announcement to the full bunker. 

“Tomorrow, a few of us will be making a trip,” he begins slowly. “We’re heading to Physical to see if we can recruit an army of sorts. Aspen has already planned everything out, our meeting times and whatnot.” 

“So who all is going?” someone cries out from the back of the room. “You’ve obviously already chosen who you’re bringing.” 

“You’re right,” Miguel says calmly. “I have a select group of people who will be coming - and for good reason too. Aspen, Jake, Ezra, Gretchen, and I will be taking the jeep tomorrow. No one else.” 

There’s a cry of outrage at this. I can tell many people are restless - they want a fight. 

“Silence!” Miguel cries out. “Ezra is a medic - we might need him on the field, we’ve been lucky so far. Aspen is the one who hacked us in, we need her to verify with the guards and patrol. Jake is an obvious choice, since he’s the reason we act now and not later. I am the leader and therefore qualified to go. And Gretchen is one of our best fighters.” 

“I can fight!”

“Ezra is just a kid!” 

“Jake doesn’t do much anything!” 

“I want to come, I’ve been waiting here forever!” 

Miguel tries to shush them, but to no avail. Aspen gets onto the table beside him and whistles loudly. Everyone falls silent and listens to her. 

“I know you’re all very angry,” Aspen begins. 

“She’s got that right,” someone whispers beside me. 

“But the jeep can’t fit everyone - both literally and figuratively. Miguel is right in saying our team is the ideal team. We have a medic, a fighter, a leader, a hacker, and an inspiration. Why can’t we take more fighters you ask? Well, what’s the sense in losing more people? There’s no point in risking any more lives. Caspian, Liliya, Warner, and Quinn are capable of leading you if the need arises. Besides, most of you are still recovering from the last attacks.” 

“I can fight better than Gretchen!” 

“Then send the four of those guys instead!” 

This time, no one quiets down when Aspen calls for their attention. She sends a panicked look at me as the adults and older children begin to mob the table. 

I push through the crowds and join her on the table. “You need to stop fighting!” I all out as the people start to grab at our feet. “How are we supposed to defeat the Box if we fight amongst ourselves. That’s what they’re trying to get us to do!

“Think about it! The Clans have been running low on their own supplies. How can Emotional provide food for everyone if they can’t even produce food for themselves? How is Mental supposed to plan anything when they can’t even get their own government under control? You’re supposed to be fighting, that’s what the Box wants. 

“So instead of fighting, let’s band together. Let’s stop fighting each other, because you aren’t to blame. Yes, your lives are unfair. Yes, you’ve been hungry. You’ve been abused by the Box. But as a wise person once told me, all of us suffer - every single one of us has problems. Instead of blaming your problems on your neighbors or us, let’s join together. Let’s unite and take back what is ours!” 

The people cheer and Aspen and Miguel smile at me, like a proud mother and father. 

“If we want to fight against the Box, you have to let us do this first,” Aspen explains. “We need more fighters, which is why we’re going to Physical. We won’t risk you guys - you’re our not-so-secret weapon. So do we have a deal?” 

The people nod and begin to trail off into quiet conversations. Miguel places a hand on my shoulder. “Good job today, Jake.” 

“Thanks?” 

“You made them trust you. And you made me trust you, amigo,” Miguel smiles, and I can see the pain behind it. “And you gave me something I haven’t had in a long time. Hope.” 

“I can’t tell what you’re trying to say…” 

“I’m saying good job, and you best get packing. Tomorrow could either be the best or worst day of our lives.” 

I think it might be the best. 

Goodbyes are the worst. 

I never got to say goodbye to my parents - not really, anyways. 

The Hidden act like we’ll never be coming back, and I suppose that is a possibility. None of our plans have worked yet, so why should we expect this one to? 

Warner gives me a hug - something very surprising for a boy like him. Everyone else is still kind of avoiding me - wary about the whole Gretchen situation. The jeep is loaded, we are as ready as we will ever be. 

Liliya promises to take care of the others. Quinn simply waves, Caspian remains quiet as we drive out of the jungle. 

Aspen is driving today. Miguel is in the front with her. Gretchen and Ezra are seated in the middle while I’m stuck in the back. We decided to drive along the edges of the forest in case of patrols. Miguel says we should be safe, but I swear I keep seeing faces in the shadows. 

“Are we there yet?” Ezra complains. I’m with him in wanting to get out of the jeep. It’s hot and stuffy, Gretchen keeps shooting looks at me that I can’t decipher. 

Ezra begins to tap his legs, finding a rather catchy rhythm that Aspen seems to recognize. Aspen begins to hum to herself, soon whispering words to the song. Miguel joins in as well, and Aspen sings louder. Soon, Ezra, Miguel, and Aspen are all singing a folk song about a forest. The beat is fast paced, and the music seems to bounce up and down. 

When the song is over they settle into comfortable silence. 

A few minutes later Ezra begins to tell Gretchen a story. Ezra tells of a world where there was no Box, where people lived without computers and instead were one with nature. Gretchen listens politely, and I find myself following along too. Ezra finishes the story by saying his parents always told it to him. 

“Mother and father always wanted us to value nature over technology,” Aspen explains, her eyes on the sandy road. “Ever since I was a girl, they told Ezra and I stories and sang us songs from their past. My mother said that her great-great-great-grandmother was the first person to really tell them. I’ve always wondered what a world like that would be like, though.” 

I guess it surprises me that others have religion type things. 

“My uncle told me about the Lord of the Forest,” Gretchen says quietly. Her voice is almost completely silent. “I know it was made up, of course. But he said there was a stag in the forest who protected the others. My uncle said that there the stag was blue in color, almost silver - and he took care of the other creatures. But that was a story passed down in my family.” 

“My father always told me about mythical creatures called lions and tigers, stuff like that. He said there was another land where the beasts thrived, and he told me stories of their claws and teeth,” Miguel smiles to himself. 

They all turn to me expectantly. I shrug, unsure of what to say. My parents never told me stories or anything. The most “story” I got was from Turnip’s book - and I could barely read it! I mean, Bridget used to have books. But they never told actual stories, I have nothing to tell the others. 

“Hey, look,” Ezra saves me by pointing ahead. “We’re at Physical.” 

Everyone falls silent as Aspen slows down to a crawl and we approach the gates. 

Since Physical is the hardest to blend in with, we decided not even to try. We’re dressed as merchants - who travel from city to city with supplies. Aspen had nicked the costumes from a crashed truck a few years ago. 

“Name?” a guard is standing by the gates. He lowers his sunglasses, dark eyes peering into the jeep. Aspen sticks her head out the window. 

“Names can be fake,” she whispers to him. The man looks down at his clipboard. 

“Welcome to the North, Ms. Forrest. Hope you enjoy your stay,” he pulls his sunglasses back up and presses a button that opens the gates. 

“Forrest?” Miguel asks her. 

She shrugs. “My mother told me Aspen is a tree, so I thought forest - but a name. Does it matter?” 

Miguel sighs as we pull through the gates. 

“Security must have been lax in Emotional, if here they have gates and stuff,” I observe out loud. 

“New rules,” Aspen explains as we park in the garage near by. “No cars beyond this point. We have to go on foot.” 

“Go to where exactly?” Miguel asks. “All I see are stone buildings and houses.” 

“I can’t say yet,” Aspen says. “I’ll know it when I see it. Look for a red flag.” 

We hop out of the jeep, gathering some empty boxes to make us look like we’re actually on a supply run. One of the boxes has a few guns stashed in it, but Aspen said it would look suspicious if we carried them out here. Quinn gave her as much information as possible so we could blend in. 

The people are all very … intimidating here. 

They fall under two categories: strong or attractive. 

Most of the people I see are a mixture of both. They’re well muscled when needed, and otherwise skinny enough to pass as normal weight. They all have gorgeous faces, their features the perfect mixture of attributes. 

“Plastic surgery,” Miguel whispers in my ear as we pass a teen girl with large red lips and eyelashes that seem four inches long. “Some people think that’s attractive.” 

“Are those who aren’t attractive or strong kicked out?” I ask uncomfortably as the girl winks at me. 

Miguel shrugs. “Probably. But by now they’ve probably bred out most of the features they don’t like. Don’t ask me, ask Aspen or Quinn when we get back. They know more about this place than I do.” 

That’s fair, I suppose. Aspen is leading us down the streets in no particular order. If anyone was watching us, they would see right through our disguises. 

“There’s a red flag down there,” Gretchen points after what feels like an hour of walking. Who elected the boys to carry the big boxes? 

We begin to hurry down the street but before we can a siren wails. Aspen pulls us against a wall as an automated voice fills the streets. “Red Alert, Red Alert. Patrolmen coming through. Please step outside so you can be inspected. Red Alert, Red Alert.” 

The voice repeats itself again and again. People are beginning to filter outside, looking around uncertainly. 

“We need to go, now!” Aspen hisses to us. “Grab the guns and let’s go. Leave the boxes.” 

“Uh, where’s the car?” Ezra asks her and Aspen pales. 

“Follow the pink marks on the sidewalk,” Gretchen tells us. “I noticed that we followed them in, so let’s follow them out.” 

We all quiet down as Miguel grabs our guns. Gretchen leads us back towards the car, her limbs shaking slightly. I wonder if she’s having flashbacks from being hostage again. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me. 

As it turns out, the jeep wasn’t super far away to begin with. 

“Hop in, quickly,” Aspen hisses at us. 

I’m about to jump in the backseat when a hand grabs my shoulder. I wheel around to see a Ninja, and before I can register what happens, Miguel punches me in the face. 

I can feel my eye swelling up already, blood spilling from my nose. “What wuff dat for?” I yell at him, but I can feel the patrolman still gripping my shoulders tightly. Miguel is making it so I can’t be recognized. 

“Sorry, you scared me, sir,” Miguel lies, blushing furiously. 

“I don’t want to hear it, kid. The red alert is going on, aren’t you supposed to be waiting outside for inspection?” 

“We don’t live here,” Miguel argues as another patrolman grabs him tightly by the back of the neck. 

“Doesn’t matter,” the new patrolman says. “Hey, Walker. These are the kids the boss is looking for. The ones that call themselves Lost. They’re the ones who keep ambushing our vans!” 

“Woohoo, pay raise for us!” the patrolman holding me cheers, shaking me roughly. 

My heart is picking up speed. Three more patrolmen join us, holding Ezra, Aspen, and Gretchen all tightly. Our chances of escape have disappeared, our chances of survival are slim. 

I can tell Gretchen is trying hard not to cry. Her eyes are rimmed red and her guard doesn’t seem to notice or care. Aspen is trying to reassure her, but her own guard slaps her cheek until she becomes silent. 

“What ‘appened to ‘im?” Ezra’s guard grumbles, I can just make out his finger pointing at me. 

“General’s son over here wheeled around and punched him instead of me,” my patrolman - Walker - laughs. “I’m nicknaming him Ugly for now, at least until we get their names. Where’s…” 

“Here!” a cheery female joins our group, holding a tiny handheld computer. “Let’s see who these kids really are.” 

She aims the machine at Aspen’s head and at first I’m afraid that she’s going to shoot the girl. Without thinking, I jam my elbow into my patrolman’s stomach. He groans, releasing me at once. I scramble away as Miguel does a similar maneuver with his guard. 

Gretchen lets loose a terrible scream before spinning and jumping onto her own patrolman, biting, scratching and hissing. I know from my own fight with her that she’s a force to be reckoned with. 

Ezra’s guard is a bit smarter and grips him by the neck so if he attempts anything the guard can choke him. 

I run up behind him, grabbing one of the discarded guns off the ground. I jam it into the back of his head and the patrolman crumples to the ground, releasing Ezra. The boy dashes away and into the car. I hear the ignition start. Miguel climbs in as well, grabbing Gretchen and pulling her off the unconscious man. 

Aspen has part of a box that she’s using to hit her patrolman in the face with. The other woman is a few feet away, her handheld device gone and her nose bloody. Miguel, maybe? 

Aspen’s patrolman slumps to the ground and she’s see me watching. “They called for backup, let’s go!” I follow her to the car and jump in beside Ezra. Aspen turns around, smiling wickedly at us. “Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!” 

And bumpy the ride is. 

I can’t tell if Aspen hits the patrolmen as we pull out of the garage, but we hit something. 

Ezra squeals for joy as we speed out of the city, plowing through the now open gates. We’re alive! I’m so happy I don’t notice someone is following us until Aspen swerves, throwing me into Ezra and Ezra into Gretchen. 

“Miguel, can you see if they have red windshield wipers?” Aspen asks, slowing down for just a second. 

“They have guns,” Miguel notes. “And Ninja masks! Aspen, drive faster!” 

“My pleasure,” Aspen smirks as she slams her foot on the pedal. The jeep lurches forward, bouncing along the ground. A bullet embeds itself in the back window, sending a jolt of sparks into the glass that shatters it. 

Miguel says some not so nice word and Aspen grits her teeth. 

Gretchen screams as another van appears out of nowhere in front of us. It skids to a stop, causing Aspen to swerve and repeat what Miguel said, but louder. The jeep screeches and Aspen bangs her fists on the steering wheel as we stop moving abruptly. 

“What’s going on?” Ezra asks, panicked. 

“I should have known,” Aspen growls. “Sand traps. They stop the wheels. There’s no way out of this one, guys.” 

“We can’t do… anything?” Miguel asks her in shock. Aspen shakes her head as she opens her door and steps out. Miguel sends a pitying look at us before following. Gretchen begins to whimper as we open our doors and crawl out. 

The sun is hot and cruel, but not as cruel as the fates. 

“Drop any weapons and get on your knees, hands behind your back!” a voice shouts at us. My legs drop on their own accord. Sweat dribbles down my spine, my heart is racing faster now. My thoughts maybe even faster. This is it. This is the end. 

I feel rough hands slip cuffs over my wrists, and they tighten, forming cold bonds. 

“Scan ‘em,” the voice orders. 

“Let’s see here,” a female voice responds. “We have Aspen and Ezra Foster. Here’s Gretchen Prince. Miguel Santiago. And who is this over here?” Something cold wipes across my face, picking up my blood. “Oh my, look who we have here! It’s Jacob Tristan - the Live One!” 

Something strikes the back of my head. “That …,” a voice I can only assume belongs to a Ninja growls. “Was for your last escape. This time, there won’t be one.” 

“Knock them out,” the first voice demands. “Boss wants them unharmed.” 

“Nighty-night,” a gleeful laugh sounds behind my head and I feel something hit my chest, sending jolts of pain into my heart and brain. I can’t tell what weapon it was, but as I slump to the sand I realize that maybe my goodbyes were last goodbyes.