IN THE MIDDLE of the next night, Elspeth realized that Titus had entered and left her cell by some means other than the front door.
It was the only explanation.
Gripped with the idea, and now wide awake at its implications, she started examining the walls of her cell. If there were a secret doorway, it would probably be in the back somewhere, away from the front of the cell, she reasoned. She dug her fingernails into every nook and crevice, pushing, pulling, scraping — anything to trigger a hidden door.
When she’d turned up nothing other than bloody fingertips after an hour, she sat and stared at the map of hexagons that both adorned her wall and taunted her.
Was the secret here somehow?
But no. These hexagons described a terrain unfamiliar: they did not relate to this place.
Still. She rose and examined the map, this time with her fingers. She traced a hexagon with a bee in the middle of it and realized that it was embossed slightly: it stood out from the others.
Without thinking, she pressed, and heard the concrete sound of stone sliding neatly on stone.
Thank God for the films, she thought, knowing that the sound had been masked. Warm blood leapt in her chest. She couldn’t see what had changed, not at first: the darkness covered whatever had happened. She felt along the wall to the back of the cell and found that the right corner had folded inward.
A dark passage lay open before her. She didn’t hesitate, even though she could not see. She entered.
Her fingers were her eyes. She used them to feel along the cold wet rough-hewn rock walls, while her other hand clutched out in front of her.
I should go back, Elspeth thought. There’s nothing down here but rats and dead bodies and drip drip drip. I should get a light and come back.
But curiosity compelled her.
Still.
Had Titus meant for her to find this tunnel? Had that been the very point of his little visit?
Or better yet: was Titus actually one of her mysterious wardens? Had he been a plant? Was he, at this very moment, watching her progress through some hidden camera deep in the bowels of the Panopticon?
The thick darkness offered no answers.
All she knew was that she was free of her cell, by God, free. There was the possibility that this wasn’t a ruse, that the guards did not know about this tunnel. Either they did, and she was supposed to find it — or they didn’t, and she had one over on them.
The latter thought made her grin. She clung to it. Bastards. Take that!
Just when she thought the darkness would suffocate her, she saw a faint light sloping downward ahead. She felt her way along the sopping wet wall and slouched towards it.
She could now make out the vague outlines of her own form in the darkness.
Voices.
Not loud, just a conversation in low tones.
“Stop,” came a voice nearby. Too near. Her spirits fell, but she obeyed.
Footsteps approached from behind. Elspeth was surprised when a young girl of ten or so stepped in front her at a safe distance, pointing a gun.
Ione. It was the Indian prisoner girl.
“Ione. What are you doing with that gun? Please don’t point that at me.”
But her parental and commanding tone did not cause Ione to waver in the slightest. Her body was young, but her eyes … Elspeth could see now that they were confident, deep, rich with subtle texture. They were not a child’s eyes: they were old eyes.
This as a very different Ione than the one she had observed earlier in the prison, the one James Card had spoken with.
My God. What have they done to you in here? Elspeth thought.
“I found a hidden door in my cell so I —”
“Shut up. Move. That way, towards the light.”
Shut up? This ‘child’ Ione was surprisingly brazen.
Elspeth did as she was told, hands up. She emerged in an open area with several connecting tunnels, all carved roughly through the rock. Several other kids of varying ages were here: Elspeth counted eight. They all jumped up in alarm.
“Don’t worry. I got her covered,” said Ione, emerging behind her. “Found her in the tunnels.”
“Who’s this?” said another girl. All of them, Elspeth breathed. Old eyes. Thousand-yard stare. None of them really children in some way.
“Jesus! Did you check and —”
“Yes, of course I did! Nobody was with her, nobody following behind. I tracked her for awhile.” This seemed to calm everyone somewhat.
“We should wait for David,” somebody else said. Murmur of assent.
