No Passengers Beyond This Point(41)

“Someone’s coming,” Mouse whispers.

Our eyes skitter around the long twig-covered hallway. The lockers? I try several until I find two that are open.

“Here,” I whisper to Mouse. She slips inside and I close the door as quietly as I can behind her. I slide into the locker next to hers. My locker bangs when it closes. Could they hear? I wait, sweat dripping down my sides.

The voices are closer now. “I still say this is overkill, Francine,” a man’s voice says. “Code seventy-three is very clear. People make their own choices.”

“We lost Chuck. We can’t afford to lose anyone else because of them,” the woman says. Francine?

Uh-oh. Chuck didn’t want to talk to her on the cab radio. I don’t think he trusted her.

“I just don’t understand why you’re devoting so much energy to tracking down a couple of kids . . .” the man says. “I saw what you did with that India. I don’t think she would have made that decision without assistance.”

He said India. They’re talking about us.

I can see them through the locker vents now. A short woman wearing a silvery vest that glistens like a hologram. She has brown hair that swings like a pendulum when she walks and bright pink glasses. The man is in the traditional blue security outfit. Oh! It’s Manny, the guy at the border crossing. I thought his voice sounded familiar.

“Don’t be such a purist, Manny. She just needed a little help is all. I want to get these kids settled. The boy worries me. When was the last time Sparky offered anyone a job?”

“He’s twelve, Francine,” Manny says. “I don’t see how he could be a threat.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t ever remember Sparky offering anyone a job.”

“Exactly. And the little one is a loose cannon.”

“C’mon Francine, this is the natural order of things and you know it. This isn’t about you and Sparky not getting along, is it?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs. “Time is on our side, anyway. All we really have to do is throw a few obstacles in front of them.”

“That isn’t honoring the spirit of the law, Francine.”

“You’re going to report me to Headquarters? Please. All they care about is their precious vehicles. Wait, check those lockers.”

Uh-oh. Our lockers?

Manny walks back to the start of the bank of egg-shaped lockers and begins lifting the handles one by one. Click-squeak-bang. Click-squeak-bang. The unlocked lockers get opened and banged shut. Clic-cric . The locked lockers make a constricted sound.

He’s almost to Mouse’s now. I think I can jam the mechanism on mine, so he won’t be able to open it, but Mouse won’t know to do this, will she? I don’t dare say anything now.

Click-squeak-bang. Manny opens and shuts the locker next to Mouse on the other side. I hold my breath, my heart beating like a basketball on pavement.

Clic-cric. Mouse’s doesn’t open.

I hold the lever down hard. Clic-cric. Mine doesn’t either.

“Let’s walk to the end.” Francine’s voice again. “Then we’ll double back.”

I wait for their footsteps to recede, for their voices to fade away.

“Good work jamming the locker, Mouse,” I whisper when the passage is silent again except for the low rumble of the heating system.

“Can I come out now?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say, lifting the handle on my locker, only it doesn’t move. I must have jammed it too hard. I wiggle it, knock it, shove my weight against it. But it won’t budge. I can’t get the door open.

“Finn,” Mouse asks. “Can you get me out, Finn? Can you?”





CHAPTER 23

MEMORY LOCKER

I try to control the waver in my voice. “There has to be a way to spring it open,” I tell her. It’s dark in the locker and a tight fit. There’s light in the hallway, and some filters through the vents, but not enough to see the mechanism clearly.

The lock mechanism looked like the kind they have at the Y—the ones where you bring your own lock. They shouldn’t have jammed this way.

Are the hinges bent? Did we break the lock somehow? I try to kneel down so I can get a good look, but there’s no room for that. The only way I fit is standing up. I let my hands be my eyes, feeling how the lock works.

My fingers explore the lever to trip the door. Why would Mouse’s locker and my locker get jammed at the same time? What are the odds of that?

“Finn,” Mouse calls. “I found something. It’s a sign!”

“Inside the locker? Can you see what it says?”