Within These Walls

Chapter 16

Sunlight.

The thought jolts through my heart like electricity. That door can't be our way out. It can't be that easy. But even though my head is throwing out warnings to squash my hope, I'm stumbling toward it, caught in the surge of teenagers eager to escape the facility.

Marcus walks through the door. The light filtering out through the gaps between the door frame and his body becomes whole. It's as bright as sunlight, but something is off. It's too white, too artificial. The crowd pushes toward him. In front of me is a girl with long tresses of black hair cascading down her back. The silky locks obscure my view when I'm pushed against her, but I see enough to know we're not heading outside.

We shuffle into a bare and spacious room with white walls like most of the facility. Black-and-white checkered tiles cover the floor instead of stone, like we're pawns on top of a giant chessboard. The black tiles shine like glossy squares of obsidian under the overhead fluorescent strip fixtures. My eyes ache from looking at all this artificial light. I've never missed sunlight as much as I do at this moment.

The beeping dies down as more people shove their way inside the room. No one wants to be stuck on the other side. It's either this—being herded together like cattle for slaughter—or ending up on the wrong side of the door.

I don't notice Willow until I catch sight of her slender frame and blond curls. She mumbles an apology to a guy she bumped into and rubs her thin arms as she surveys the room. She doesn't look scared, just sharp and wary, and I admire her level-headedness. I stopped being able to think straight the minute we entered the gym.

A loud slam makes me jump.

"Who closed the door?" Marcus asks from somewhere on the other side of the room.

"It closed itself," a guy answers. "Now it's locked."

Of course, it is. I've never been the claustrophobic type but now, standing in this locked and cramped space with barely enough room to move, I feel woozy, like I'm running low on oxygen. My chest expands when I inhale, but it's not enough. I can't be imagining things. The air does feel a little thinner in here: who's to say the Takers haven't brought us together to suffocate us to death? It'd be the most effective way to clean up the mess afterward. No blood. No struggle. We'd go as quietly as we came.

Don't let emotion dictate your state of being. I close my eyes, chase down every stray thought and wrangle it back into the dark box in the corner of my mind, just like Sam taught me to do. I observe the room and settle on the only other things in the room that aren't white: two rectangular speakers mounted high on opposite walls.

Someone nudges my arm. To my right is Alec, his features settled into a somber look as he points at one of the speakers. "That has to mean they're going to talk to us, right?"

I nod. Maybe Marcus was right. We might finally find out what we're doing in here. Question is, why would they bring us in here to speak to us? The cafeteria would have worked just as well. They could have placed the speakers in the blocks, too, if all they want to do is talk.

I don't like this at all.

"Me neither," Willow says, catching me off guard. I'm still too frazzled to keep my thoughts straight, or to keep them in my head. "I mean, what's the deal with the door not unlocking until now? This place is too specific if all they want to do is talk to—"

A high-pitched shriek cuts off her words. At the same time, the bright light turns off, plunging us into pitch black.

The noise drops me to my knees. I jab my fingers into my ears, shrinking myself into a ball like that'll make the noise miss me. My brain vibrates with the force of a jackhammer on steroids. My throat is also vibrating, moans ripping out of me, lost in the endless shrill cries.