ONE YEAR LATER
Marisol had grown thinner and gaunt, and Calypso, now a little over a year old, had lost a lot of her baby fat in the past year. Marisol wanted to go home, but she loved Oliver and Janina, and many of the friends she had made had died of hunger or had been taken away by them.
Oliver and Janina now called Marisol "Mar" as a nickname. Calypso could talk, but only a little. When she was in pain, she cried, when she was hungry, she said, "Hungy!" and cried. Her first word had been "Home", which she had said to Marisol. Her first word to Oliver was "angel", and to Janina was "life".
Oliver and Janina would look at Calypso is amazement. "She is a miracle child," Oliver said.
That is when it happened.
"Beds 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, and 15!" a voice called.
Marisol and Calypso were in bed 7, Oliver in 8, and Janina in 9. They all looked at each other and followed the rest of the people who were called to the masked people waiting by the door. Calypso looked at her mother and her friends. "Fwight," she said tearfully and buried her head into her mother's chest.
"Yes, fright, I am frightened too," the now fourteen-year-old Oliver said to Calypso. (Janina was now eleven, and Marisol was twenty one.)
The masked people took them to a smaller version of the room in which they had spent the last years. "This is part of an underground maze," one of them began. "There are many obstacles, and about twenty ways out. However, only about four or five of those ways take you to freedom. If you get out and you are in the outskirts of a city, you are safe. Few of you will reach that goal; that is guaranteed." His cold, hawk-sharp eyes flicked through the small crowd.
"Now we will make sure everyone is here," the other said. "From bed one, Caleb Burns, correct?" the man nodded. "Bed three - Amanda Ellis, bed five, Erica James, seven - Marisol and Calypso Arnolds. Eight - " the man squinted down at the name. "What is your name?"
"Hard to tell," Oliver said boldly. "I have been called many things."
The man nodded. "Bed nine - Janine?"
"Janina," Janina said coldly.
He nodded again. "Eleven - Jonathan Lasky ... twelve - Darrel Skye, and fifteen - Lila Jenkins. Good, good .... everyone is here. Well, all I can say is, good luck and if not, die in peace." He smiled evilly and opened a door at the rear of the room.
Marisol had grown thinner and gaunt, and Calypso, now a little over a year old, had lost a lot of her baby fat in the past year. Marisol wanted to go home, but she loved Oliver and Janina, and many of the friends she had made had died of hunger or had been taken away by them.
Oliver and Janina now called Marisol "Mar" as a nickname. Calypso could talk, but only a little. When she was in pain, she cried, when she was hungry, she said, "Hungy!" and cried. Her first word had been "Home", which she had said to Marisol. Her first word to Oliver was "angel", and to Janina was "life".
Oliver and Janina would look at Calypso is amazement. "She is a miracle child," Oliver said.
That is when it happened.
"Beds 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, and 15!" a voice called.
Marisol and Calypso were in bed 7, Oliver in 8, and Janina in 9. They all looked at each other and followed the rest of the people who were called to the masked people waiting by the door. Calypso looked at her mother and her friends. "Fwight," she said tearfully and buried her head into her mother's chest.
"Yes, fright, I am frightened too," the now fourteen-year-old Oliver said to Calypso. (Janina was now eleven, and Marisol was twenty one.)
The masked people took them to a smaller version of the room in which they had spent the last years. "This is part of an underground maze," one of them began. "There are many obstacles, and about twenty ways out. However, only about four or five of those ways take you to freedom. If you get out and you are in the outskirts of a city, you are safe. Few of you will reach that goal; that is guaranteed." His cold, hawk-sharp eyes flicked through the small crowd.
"Now we will make sure everyone is here," the other said. "From bed one, Caleb Burns, correct?" the man nodded. "Bed three - Amanda Ellis, bed five, Erica James, seven - Marisol and Calypso Arnolds. Eight - " the man squinted down at the name. "What is your name?"
"Hard to tell," Oliver said boldly. "I have been called many things."
The man nodded. "Bed nine - Janine?"
"Janina," Janina said coldly.
He nodded again. "Eleven - Jonathan Lasky ... twelve - Darrel Skye, and fifteen - Lila Jenkins. Good, good .... everyone is here. Well, all I can say is, good luck and if not, die in peace." He smiled evilly and opened a door at the rear of the room.