Among the Brave

“But surely there’s a back entrance?” Krakenaur spat out “Or some hut nearby that we could appropriate for processing purposes?”

Nobody answered. Trey wondered if the officers were nodding obediently or looking dubious.

“And it’s not like there are hundreds of prisoners in the basement,” someone else muttered. “There’s just one.”

One? Trey’s heart sank. Then it was probably just Mark down there. Where could Lee and the others be?

Another officer was adding in a soothing voice, ‘Anyhow, we’re just keeping that prisoner here until we finish our interrogation. Then we’ll dispose of him. It won’t be more than a few more hours.”

Trey gulped so hard he feared the entire roomful of men could hear him. A few more hours… Trey didn’t have time to wait for Krakenaur to finish browbeating his officers and dismiss them all. He would have to crawl past them and go rescue Mark now.

Trey stared at the pattern of light coming in through the fancy grille as though he could will it into darkness. Wait a minute — maybe he could. It probably looked dark to the people outside right now. He just had to make sure they didn’t see a changing pattern of skin, hair, flannel shirt, dark pants…. Carefully, he spread out the shirt of the Population Police uniform on the bottom of the duct. Then, very quickly — so quickly he didn’t have time to think about the danger — he lifted the shirt so it covered the entire grille from the inside.

Nobody noticed.

Trey gave himself a few moments to take deep breaths of relief. Then he slipped forward, holding the shirt in place over the grille with his hands, then his torso, then his legs.

He didn’t worry about rattling buttons once.

The entire procedure was going so smoothly, Trey was starting to think he had a future as a contortionist. And then, just as he was moving his leg away from the grille, he glanced back and realized: The uniform shirt had caught on his belt as he’d slid past He’d been in full view of anyone who cared to look for the past two minutes.

Instantly, he jerked his leg away from the grille, only barely managing to stop himself from kicking the other side of the duct with a solid thump. And then he waited. Did anybody see me?

It was torture, waiting, knowing he could do nothing now to correct his mistake. But down below, Krakenaur just kept berating his men.

“We have a duty to our people!” he was yelling.

Nobody had been looking at the grille. Nobody had seen Trey.

Oh, thank you, he thought, feeling as if every moment for the rest of his life would be a pure gift. Because it was. He’d deserved to be discovered, and he hadn’t been.

He turned his attention to finding Mark.

Over the next hour or so, Trey despaired repeatedly of ever finding a way down to the basement. The ducts of the Grant mansion were like a maze, twisting and turning and branching off at odd intervals. More than once, They considered just turning around, climbing out a vent in some empty room, and then looking for actual stairs down to the basement. But seeing Krakenaur had chilled him. Trey could practically feel the danger in every room of the house — everywhere outside the ducts. He wore a hole in the knee of his pants, crawling; he rubbed the palms of his hands raw from feeling his way along. But that was still better than being out in the midst of the Population Police.

And then, finally, as Trey reached a tired arm out yet again into the endless darkness, he touched — nothing. Just a hole where the duct plunged straight down.

Trey hadn’t thought about its working that way. He’d been thinking of a nice gentle slope — something like the slides he’d seen in pictures of playgrounds.

I can do this, Trey told himself. I have to.

He reached across the hole, feeling around for the wall on the other side. As soon as he touched metal, he pulled his upper body over the hole and thrust his legs down it, bracing his feet and knees along the side of the metal chute. He banged his head on the top of the duct, and his leg muscles began trembling with the strain almost immediately But he didn’t fall. He inched down, each move absolute agony.

How much farther can it possibly be? They wondered. How high are the Grants’ ceilings?

Finally, They’s foot brushed something directly below him. He straightened out his legs, delighted that he’d soon be standing on solid ground.

Well, solid duct, anyway, he corrected himself.

He eased his stiff, aching arms away from the walls of the duct so all his weight was on his legs and the duct below.

Suddenly there was a ripping sound. Trey plunged straight down. As he reached out frantically, clutching for anything that might stop his fall, his fingers brushed plastic. He grabbed what seemed to be a plastic tube, which swung down to the right Seconds later, he hit a concrete floor with a muffled thud.

Trey lay still, too stunned even to try out his arms and legs and make sure that nothing was broken. In near- darkness, he peered straight up, trying to comprehend what had happened. He’d broken through the duct, of course, but why? He looked at the plastic tube he still hugged to his chest. Oh. He was in the basement, and the ducts down here were evidently plastic, not metal. The tube he was clutching was about as flimsy as a garbage bag.

At least it was strong enough to break your fall, he told himself reassuringly. And nobody knows I’m here.

'What was that?” someone yelled.

Correction, They thought. At least they haven’t found me yet. At least I have time to hide.

He glanced around, but he was in an empty room.

I’ll hide in the tube, then, he told himself. But the plastic duct was too narrow. Even if he managed to climb into it in time, his shoulders would cause the tube to bulge. He’d be discovered instantly if anyone came to investigate.

Then it’s back into the metal duct They thought, still feeling amazingly calm.

He stood — his legs did still work, after all — and reached up.

The bottom of the metal duct was a good two feet above his fingertips. He had nothing to stand on, he couldn’t jump that high — there was no way out.

And he could hear footsteps coming his way.

Chapter Twenty

Know what I think that noise was?” a second voice called out. “Mice. Or rats, maybe. Hey, tell you what. You run back there and flush them out, drive them straight toward my cage, and I’ll catch them with my bare hands. I’ve done it before. Ever had rat roasted on an open flame? Mmm — mmm. Delicious.”

It was Mark’s voice, sounding twangier and more hickish than ever. Trey’s knees went weak with relief.

But so what? Trey reminded himself. That just means the two of us will be imprisoned together.

The footsteps stopped.

“I am a master guard in the Population Police,” the first voice snapped. “I don’t eat rats.”

“Hey, hey, didn’t mean to insult you,” Mark said. “I should have thought about who I was talking to. I ain’t used to being around fancy officials and all. It probably ain’t rats, or mice, nohow. Not here. Not some highfalutin place like this.”

“Hmmph,” the guard said. But, miraculously, he didn’t continue walking toward Trey’s room. Instead, he muttered, “No funny business.” And then his footsteps began to retreat Trey thought, by the way they echoed, that he might even be climbing stairs.