18 Students Remaining
I read the new riddle through at least five times, but it’s no use. I don’t have the slightest idea what the answer could be.
I hear a noise out in the hall, something between a footstep and a sudden thud. I flinch and pull myself away from the computer, heart sinking with the knowledge that I’ve failed.
“Zo?” I whisper, sneaking back down the hall.
But Zo’s not where I left her.
Nerves squeeze my chest, fear momentarily amplifying every thought in my brain so that they seem to scream inside my skull: What the hell happened where is she did she get caught oh God oh God oh God.
I close my eyes, force myself to breathe through the fear, then open them again. I can’t let myself fall apart. Not yet.
I loop the bottom floor, careful to pause at every corner and silently peer into the darkness on the other side, eyes peeled for guards. Every hall on the bottom floor is empty. I try a few doors, search through a bathroom and a couple of janitor’s closets, but it’s no use. Zo is nowhere.
My heartbeat pounds in my chest as I make my way back up to the main floor. Halfway up the stairs, my shoe connects with something small and gold, sending it skittering.
The sound echoes loudly through the empty school. I go perfectly still, not even daring to breathe. The shadows around me pulse. I listen for footsteps, voices, anything. But all I hear is my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.
When I’m sure there’s no one coming for me, I kneel and scoop up the object I just kicked. As soon as my fingers curl around it, something inside me stills.
It’s a gold croissant: one of Zo’s earrings.
No. I tighten my fingers around the earring, the post digging into the skin of my palm. I refuse to believe it. Zo can’t be gone.
But she’s not in Sullivan Hall, either. I case the building two more times, but there’s no sign of her.
After nearly an hour of searching, I give up and sneak back to our dorm, hoping for a miracle.
Maybe Zo had to hide, or leave without me to save herself.
Maybe she’s already back in her room, waiting for me.
The first thing I do when I get to my room is check the class roster on my tablet.
Zo’s name isn’t there.
I wait for the wave of emotion to hit, but it never comes. Instead, something cold and hard forms inside me—a wall made out of ice. I can’t let myself feel the pain of losing my friends anymore. It hurts too much. And I’ll need to be strong if Scarlett and I are ever going to get out of here.
But I stare at the class roster for several more minutes, my breath in my throat, my heartbeat a steady metronome beneath my ribs.
Only eighteen students left.
“We’ll both go,” Scarlett whispers to me the next day. “Tonight. I’m sure we can answer the riddle together.”
It’s independent study period. Scarlett and I are sprawled across the grass in the yard outside the library, despite the fact that it’s freezing. We’re playing music loudly from our tablets to drown our voices so none of the TAs can hear what we’re talking about.
Everyone left at this school seems to have decided to spend the study hour here as well.
I count around sixteen other students, all sprawled in groups of two and three and four, gathered close together, whispering quietly.
A few TAs hover nearby, watching us. Whenever they wander too close, Scar and I switch our conversation to our latest end-of-module test, just in case they manage to catch anything we say over the sound of the music.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur to Scarlett.
Scar frowns. “Why not?”
The truth is that I wouldn’t be able to bear if she disappeared, too. Losing Seven and Zo and Mando has been hard enough. But Scarlett’s my family. I don’t know what I would do without her.
Instead, I say, “The riddle keeps changing. I need someone who’s good at figuring them out.
” As discreetly as I can, I look over to where Ian is sitting on the library steps, silently tossing a ball back and forth with one of the twins.
The other twin is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if he disappeared, too.
Ian could figure out the riddle, I think. He got the first one so quickly. I’m sure he could answer whatever new riddle the computer comes up with tonight.
“You’re good at riddles,” Scar points out.
“Not good enough.” If I were, I could’ve gotten the one last night, and all of this would be over.
Scar is playing with the grass, plucking blades and weaving them between her fingers. “Okay…what about Rani? He’s smart. And he likes you. I know he would help.”
I chew my lip, eyes drifting from Ian to Rani, who’s sitting a few feet away.
He’s alone, reading another paperback, or maybe it’s the same one.
I can’t tell. It’s an immense relief to see that he’s still here, but I’m not sure I agree with Scarlett.
Would he help? He’s been so weird about this place.
Even if he could figure out the riddle, would he?
I wait until the end of the period to say goodbye to Scarlett and make my way over to him. “Hey,” he says, putting his book down on his lap. “I figured you were avoiding me.”
“No,” I say. “There’s just been a lot going on.”
Rani scratches the back of his head. “Tell me about it.”
“You still think whatever happens here is worth it?” I ask.
Rani’s face falls. “C’mon, Lia, that’s not what I said.” He glances around, like he’s worried someone might overhear us, and adds, “I never thought people were getting hurt.”
I chew my lip, trying to decide whether to trust him. He’s not some bad guy. He’s Rani, who I’ve been flirting with all semester. And I get why he wanted to stay here. I wanted to love this place, too.
“Let me ask you a riddle,” I say, and then I clear my throat and recite it from memory. “ ‘The man who makes me doesn’t want me. The man who buys me doesn’t need me. The man who needs me doesn’t know it yet. What am I?’ ”
Rani blinks a few times, thinking. “I’m not really a riddle guy,” he says after a moment. “Wanna give me a hint?”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I couldn’t figure it out, either.
” I glance back at Ian, only to find that he’s caught me talking to Rani, and now he’s frowning in my direction.
Heat floods my face. And my body apparently doesn’t care that we’re in a life-or-death race against the clock to find a way out of this prison, because all of a sudden I’m remembering the feeling of his arms around me, his chin resting on my head.
I immediately avert my eyes, my entire body tingling.
Ian might still be keeping things from me, but I know he’ll help me. I don’t even have to think about it.
He’s still holding the ball he’d been playing catch with, but he doesn’t look up when I approach him. Instead, he studies it like he’s hoping to find the answers to the mysteries of the universe in the lines of red stitching and says in a gruff voice, “Michaels.”
“Hey,” I say. I notice Rani watching us from the corner of my eye. I shift a little so I can no longer see him. “Can I ask you a question?”
Ian’s eyes go distant for the length of about thirty seconds after I’ve asked him the riddle, then snap back to my face. “Before I answer, tell me why you need it.”
“Intellectual curiosity.”
“Liar.” His eyes linger on my face. He leans closer to me and, lowering his voice, says, “First the riddle last night, and now this one…What are you up to?”
I look around to make sure none of the TAs are standing nearby. We appear to be safe. Keeping my voice low enough that only Ian will be able to hear, I say, “It’s a long shot, but I might be able to get us out of here. I need to figure this riddle out first.”
Ian gives me a skeptical look. “You’re going back to the Records Room. Didn’t you learn anything after the last time?”
“I have a plan.” I don’t bother mentioning that this plan hinges on being able to break a lock in record time and running really fast. Best to work on one problem at a time. “What do you think? Want to help me?”
Ian is quiet a moment, thinking. Then he says, “A coffin.”
“What?”
He exhales slowly. “The answer to your riddle. The man who makes the coffin doesn’t want it, the man who buys it doesn’t need it, et cetera. You’re a coffin.”
Hope leaps in my chest. “Does that mean you’ll help?”
The air around us seems to shudder. I feel, rather than hear, the sound of distant thunder. It rumbles up through my shoes. Then there’s the featherlight brush of Ian’s fingers against my knuckles, nerves pricking over the back of my hand.
“Obviously,” Ian says, voice low. “See you tonight.”
The air inside the Records Room smells musty, like dust and old paper. Strange, considering there’s neither in the small room.
My senses are heightened, aware of every sound, every shifting shadow. My footsteps echo. Somewhere in the school, the heat has switched on. The smell of burning singes the inside of my nose. I can hear the uneven tripping of a radiator through the walls.
Ian doesn’t say a word as he follows me into the room, but he leans over me as I sit before the computer and touch the mouse. The computer screen blinks to life.
Just like before, the riddle is different. I read the new one out loud. “ ‘You measure my life in hours. I serve you by expiring. I’m quick when I’m thin and slow when I’m fat. The wind is my enemy’—”
“A candle,” Ian murmurs before I’ve finished.
I raise my eyebrows, impressed, and quickly type the answer in. The riddle screen dissolves, and I feel cold relief move through my veins. A message appears in its place:
Welcome back, Dr. Greer.
What can I help you locate?
“Who’s Dr. Greer?” I ask.
I glance up at Ian, wondering if he’s heard the name before. He just shrugs. “Does it matter?”
I suppose it doesn’t. I plug the Penguin into the USB port and wait. For a few seconds, nothing happens. I swallow, feeling suddenly nervous. What if Zo was wrong? What if I have to do more than just plug this thing in to get it to work?