The severance game, p.12
The Severance Game, page 12
The production the Therewolves were putting on was a showcase of “re-worked” fairytales. That’s what they called them at least. In reality they’d just changed the endings of every story so that the tales’ protagonists were eaten by wolves. Oh, and they added a few musical numbers too.
I gazed at the set meant to portray the grandmother’s cottage in the show. The Therewolf playing the part of the grandmother was busy at her fake stove pretending to cook.
That’s when I saw it.
On set in the form of the kitchen knife I’d transformed it into, my wand was sitting on the countertop next to several other basic cutlery props.
If that wasn’t good enough fortune, I was even more elated when I noticed a glass bowl filled with SJ’s portable potions sitting on the set’s coffee table. The Therewolves definitely hadn’t known what they were and had decided to use them as decorative tchotchkes.
Just having the potions and my wand in close proximity gave me hope that escape was possible. In fact, the second I saw them, the gears in my brain began to turn like runaway carriage wheels. My eyes darted about the place calculating strategies and configuring scenarios. As I stared at the stage—its layout, its elevation, the giant curtains that framed it—ideas sparked inside my head and my heart sped with excitement.
I had the incunabula of plan.
Alas, my temporarily heightened spirit was extinguished at the sight of SJ and Blue being led into the theater. Seeing them for the first time in days should have made me ecstatic, but when they sat down next to me, I saw that Blue was practically in tears.
Their Therewolf guard instructed them to assist me with the shirt scrubbing. When he left I dropped my steel wool and turned to Blue. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head in response—unable to get out a single syllable. SJ sighed and rolled her eyes before she brought herself to explain what had happened on Blue’s behalf.
The reason the Therewolves had taken such a strong interest in SJ and Blue was because they’d suspected my friends were protagonists. The higher-up’s in the troupe had interrogated both of them over the last few days trying to verify this theory. But in the end it didn’t matter how many times Blue and SJ denied the allegations, because one Therewolf knew the truth.
This Therewolf was the brother of the same Therewolf that had tried to eat Blue’s sister Red when she’d wandered into the Forbidden Forest many years ago. One look at my friend and a sniff of her cloak for confirmation, and the vengeful actor-hunter hybrid confirmed Blue’s protagonist identity on the spot.
You would’ve thought this meant that our captors intended to eat Blue right away. But as it turned out, they actually had bigger, more sadistic plans in mind.
Evidently the whole “wolf eats main character” thing was an ongoing theme in all of their productions, not just the fairytale adaptations. And this recurring ending was made possible by the fact that the Therewolves only cast prisoners in those roles. Meaning that the eating of the characters at the end of each show was not acting but real devouring.
Getting one of Book’s actual protagonists to play such a sacrificial part was, like, the ultimate prize. So when they found out who Blue really was they immediately cast her in the role of her sister for their production of Little Red Riding Hood. Within the next few days she would be forced to memorize lines, get fitted for a costume, and learn a brief tap number in preparation for being eaten alive during the play’s premiere performance.
SJ had barely finished her story when the Therewolf who’d escorted them in came to collect Blue. He was carrying something in his left hand. When he reached us, he threw the brightly colored garment at her with great disdain.
“Let’s go, protagonist,” he said. “They need you in wardrobe.”
Blue held the red cloak with such terror you might’ve assumed she thought actual blood had given it its color. I also regarded the thing with dread, but for a very different reason.
Blue stood up and followed the Therewolf without question. I stood too, but not to go after her. I backed up a few feet and really looked around me for the first time since I’d been in this room.
The red cloak, the theater, the torches, the giant wolves . . .
Oh no. This is . . . This was . . .
My mouth dropped open as the images that my consciousness had tried to forget came flooding back.
I’d dreamed about this, about all of this. But how? How could I have possibly known about this place? How could I have known about that bunker back at the Capitol Building? Or the glowing red watering can? Or any of it?
I felt dizzy. Then I noticed SJ standing next to me. I had told her about this particular dream, and as she gazed around the room she was no doubt connecting the same dots I was.
Sure enough, when the spark of recognition flickered in her eyes she tersely punched me in the arm.
“Ow! Geez, SJ. What was that for?” I asked.
“This is all your fault,” she said bitterly. “You and your big ideas. You fill our heads with nonsense about taking our lives into our own hands and being who we want to be, drag us back and forth across the realm, and for what? Only to have you lie to us along the way and then get us eaten by predatory actors.”
“SJ, I—”
“You what, Crisa? Care about someone beside yourself? Want to be honest with the others?”
I grabbed SJ by the elbow and yanked her down. I pretended to get back to work and gestured for her to do the same so the Therewolves wouldn’t notice our argument.
“Not that again, SJ,” I whispered. “In case you haven’t noticed, Blue is about to be eaten during a poorly directed theatrical performance. Can we please put aside our personal issues for the moment and concentrate on the big picture?”
“This is the big picture, Crisa,” SJ hissed. “How can you not see that? This whole time you have been making the excuse that your dishonesty about what is going on with you was to protect us from dealing with your burden. But look around. We are not protected. We are all in this mess together. And maybe if you had trusted us with the truth, we might not be.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “How was I supposed to know what to do with a dream about Blue being attacked on stage by a giant wolf?”
“You tell me; you are the one who can apparently see the future,” SJ snapped.
I blinked. “Say that again?”
“I said you can see the future,” she reiterated. “That is the only explanation, is it not?”
It felt like someone had turned on a light bulb in my brain. That was totally it! I could see the future! That was why my nocturnal visions always felt so real. That was why the places and people I had been dreaming about actually existed.
I felt like such a dunce. How could I not have put two and two together sooner?
To be fair I’d had a lot on my mind recently. And having “psychic abilities” was not a natural assumption for any person to come to. But I still felt stupid regardless.
I stared into space, processing the revelation. It was weird and unsettling and incredibly cool all at the same time. Part of me was super freaked out because I didn’t know how or why I was able to do this. But another part of me felt somewhat relieved and more confident now that I had some understanding of what was going on inside me.
Suddenly I felt a strange, icy tingle emanating from my fingers. I glanced down and realized that my entire right hand was liquid metal. The watering can’s magic was fluctuating.
Really? I rolled my eyes. You’re telling me that the strongest part of my personality is being able to see the future? It’s a pretty cool development and everything, but that’s not even a trait so much as it is a skill. I feel like I’m being gypped here.
After a moment the silvery effect evaporated into my skin. I flipped over my palm, expecting to find a word branded there. However, much to my surprise the smudgy tattoo merely flashed scarlet before returning to its normal, blurry state. There was no word, just the same blob.
Hmm. Okay, I guess that’s not it.
I wondered why the mark had started acting up even though I hadn’t solved the watering can’s riddle but decided it was probably just another side effect of the enchantment.
“All right,” I said at last, looking at SJ. “I can see the future. Apparently. That’s, um, different.”
“Different is one word for it,” SJ replied. “Another would be ill-timed. It would have been a lot more helpful if you had figured out this was your Fairy Godmother-induced power sooner, Crisa.”
“Wait, what do you mean? This isn’t my power, at least not the secret one that’s supposed to develop from the magic Emma gave me to make my wand work.”
“That is ridiculous,” SJ scoffed. “Be logical, Crisa. Of course this is your power. Why in the realm would it not be? Psychic abilities do not fall from the sky. This skill of yours is clearly something magical.”
I paused but then shook my head decidedly. No offense to SJ, but logic didn’t matter in this case—instinct did. And mine told me that despite what the facts were suggesting, seeing the future in my dreams was not my magic power. It just wasn’t. I could feel it.
“Look, SJ,” I finally responded. “Emma said that when I discovered my power I would know it, like I would sense it in my gut or something. And if that’s true then I can tell you with utmost certainty that whatever this is, it’s not my power. I’m not saying it’s not something magical, I’m just saying that it’s something . . . else.”
SJ rolled her eyes. “Fine then, Miss Know-It-All, maybe it is not your power. In any case it is what we have to work with at the moment, so hurry up and use this ‘something else’ of yours to get us out of here.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Well, what have you dreamed about lately?” SJ asked, the annoyance in her tone rising.
“Nothing,” I admitted.
“Crisa, you lie to me again and I will punch you.”
“SJ, you already did that; pretty hard, by the way. And I’m telling you the truth. It’s the strangest thing. I haven’t had a single dream since we’ve been here. Frankly, I haven’t slept this peacefully since I was home for the summer.”
“Wonderful.” SJ scowled. “In that case, what else do you have?”
“What do you mean?”
“Crisa, you are the one who always directs our mad plans. You must have something up your sleeve.”
I sighed. “SJ, we both know that you and Blue are the ones that make our plans work. Past the inherent crazy that helps me come up with them, I’m not even sure what I contribute.”
“Wow, you can be dense. That is an easy one,” she scoffed.
“Is it now?” I replied, genuinely curious. “Well then enlighten me, Oh Mean One.”
“And inflate your ego?” SJ crossed her arms. “I do not think so. Tell me what you have in terms of a plan for escaping and then let us see if you can figure it out for yourself.”
I glanced around to make sure there were absolutely no Therewolves within earshot and then scooched closer to her. “All right, fine. I do have something,” I admitted. “Look up on the stage. You see what’s on that coffee table?”
SJ turned her head and her eyes widened. “Are those—”
“Yes,” I interrupted. “My wand’s up there too. It’s disguised as one of the kitchen knives. I’ve been doing some recon over the last week during shifts and between that, your potions, and my wand—I think I’ve finally got a few ideas in the works. But in order for them to pan out we’re going need a list of our job assignments for opening night, a script with stage directions, three rubber bands, a jacket, and, most importantly, I’m going to need you to do something that I haven’t been able to do myself and that I definitely don’t deserve.”
SJ looked at me skeptically. “And what, dare I ask, is that?”
“Trust me,” I said.
Stage Frights
nd now I shall surrender, for you are clearly better than I. So what can I do, but lay down and die . . .”
“You really sold it that time,” I said sarcastically as Blue threw down the sorry excuse for a script she was being forced to memorize.
Out of nowhere a rock suddenly hurtled by our heads—barely missing Blue and bouncing off the metal pipes behind us.
“Ten minutes, kid,” the Therewolf who’d thrown the stone barked as he passed by.
Blue began to hyperventilate. I grabbed a paper bag and handed it to her.
“Calm, calm,” I repeated. “Everything is going to be okay.”
I was anxious, as every human within the tunnel system probably was. But Blue’s worries were on an entirely different level. The circles under her eyes were immense from lack of sleep. Her nails were bitten down. And her knees shook more than mine did after an extreme day of training drills in the practice fields back at school.
School . . .
It felt like ages since I’d even thought the word. We still wore the same clothes as the day we left—crisp and clean as ever thanks to SJ’s nifty invention, the SRB, which we wore around our wrists. These Soap on a Rope-like Bracelets were laced with a potion of her own design that kept wearers clean and fresh no matter what the circumstance. Even if we fell in the mud or a pool of egg cream, as soon as we removed ourselves from the dirtying environment, the bracelets released a series of silver sparks that returned us, and our clothes, to dry and clean states. Needless to say, this was an extremely handy accessory to have on a quest and in an underground theater prison.
Other than our unchanging outfits, however, it seemed like everything in the world was different now.
I wondered if this was a fact to mourn or rejoice. I’d always wished to escape the confinement of my school’s walls, rules, and routines. But then again, I definitely hadn’t fantasized about coaching one of my best friends on her acting prior to performing in a play put on by bloodthirsty actor-wolves.
I really hoped my plan was going to work.
I’d managed to get my hands on everything I needed and, based on the list of work duties that SJ had procured for me, I’d assigned jobs to carry out our plan accordingly.
Considering what I had to work with, I thought I’d done a decent job, especially considering that opening night fell on day fourteen of the watering can’s curse and my friends would not be themselves again until tomorrow.
I supportively patted Blue on the shoulder then went to retrieve her picnic basket filled with goodies from the props closet. Fake goodies, that is. Had they been real I would’ve eaten them on the spot. We hadn’t had a good meal since being here. This was a prison after all, not a five-star resort.
The props closet was at the front of the wardrobe and set design department. I dragged my ball and chain through the maze of costume racks, fake scenery, and tables loaded with set design materials. I accidentally rammed into one of the tables and knocked over a tube of super glue and one of the many cans of spray paint, causing me to get a glare from a Therewolf nearby.
There was a huge line in front of the props closet when I arrived as other human helpers were also retrieving objects for the production. The chafing of my shackle against my shin irritated me more than usual as I inched farther up the line. I began to yearn for when I would finally be able to remove it.
The metal that cuffed it to my ankle was not locked anymore. I’d picked it loose this afternoon in my cell. Now all I had to do was unlatch the hook and step into freedom, something I fully intended to do in the very near future.
I’d confirmed that Blue, Jason, and Daniel had also figured out how to pick their locks during our stay. Accordingly, the boys had their shackles unlocked and ready to be discarded at a moment’s notice. Blue, meanwhile, didn’t need to worry about such an impairment. As an actress in the show, she didn’t have to wear her shackle tonight due to the Therewolves’ concern with the show’s “realism.”
SJ, on the other hand, remained bound by the lock on her ball and chain. She was not familiar with lock-pickery like the rest of us. And since we were never left unwatched for very long when let out of our cells, none of us had found the opportunity to show her how to do it.
I wasn’t worried though. I’d taken that factor into account and had adjusted our plan so that it would not be an issue.
My turn in the props closet line arrived. The Therewolf monitoring the door took my name and the name of the object I was after. He nodded, checked something off his clipboard, and went to retrieve the basket I’d come to collect. As he turned his back I scanned the storage area one last time to make sure everything was where it should be.
After Blue told me that all the prisoners’ personal items were kept in this room, I’d volunteered to take props from the closet to the stage and vice versa throughout dress rehearsals. This allowed me to familiarize myself with the items’ whereabouts inside.
That evening it was vital that everything was in its proper place. As such, I mentally checked off my own list of important “props” before the Therewolf returned with Blue’s basket. Since I was the last person in line, once he’d handed it over, he closed the door and fastened it shut with a ginormous padlock.
I heaved my shackle back through the department’s twisting and turning labyrinth. When I reached Blue I found her sitting in a fetal position with her back against the wall. Most of her body was hidden within the red cloak she was being forced to wear, but a corner of her blue cloak peeked out from beneath it.
I stood in front of her. She looked up at me for a moment to acknowledge my presence then gazed back at the ground.
“Crisa . . .” she mumbled. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
I placed the basket on the floor and sat down beside her. “Blue, of course you can. You’re you.”
“No. I’m not,” she said as she shook her head. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I’ve been absolutely useless lately—terrified, jumpy, rattled right to my very core. I’m so scared I can barely breathe half the time. You should have thought of a different plan, one that didn’t involve me needing to be someone that . . . I’m just not anymore.”
