We had a plan, but I had to be sure I could pull it off. I lifted one hand and looked it over. There wasn't anything there to tell me I was some sort of superhuman wolf thing.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eyes. The pale guy was writing again.
Try crushing your bed, he suggested.
I looked over at the floating cot. The body was made of the same material as the wall in which it projected out. I got up and walked over. There was just a slim mattress, a couple of blankets, and the clean clothes Fox mentioned. They were completely white like prison garb. I grabbed the mattress and threw them to the floor. That left the sheet of metal. I grabbed the long edge with both hands and pulled.
Nothing happened. I looked over to Pale Guy. There was a strange smirk on his face.
Pull your hands away, he wrote to me.
I shrugged and tried to pull my hands away, but they were stuck.
"What the hell?" I murmured. My fingers were wedged into the metal. I hadn't moved the metal, but I'd made indents in the metal in the shape of my fingers.
I pushed backwards with my feet and my fingers popped out of their little placements. I stumbled back and raised my hands. They weren't so normal anymore. My fingers were thicker than before, and the fingernails were longer and sharper. I sat down and stared at them with my mouth agape.
"Wow. . ." I murmured.
I got up and walked over to the bench. My hands fit perfectly into their molds. I braced my legs and tried to lift the bench. The metal creaked and groaned, and after a few seconds I felt the bed give a little. It tilted up just a half a degree.
I gasped and stumbled back. From across the hall came the muffled clapping of the Pale Guy. I turned to him and grinned. He smiled and gave a nod. It looked like I had a chance at this after all.
After that effort I was tired, and now without a flat bed. I lay down on the mattress and closed my eyes.
I don't know how long I was out, but the next thing I knew was the loud clang of the metal door and footsteps. I sat up on my mattress and watched Fox's henchman come into view. He had a tray of food in his hands.
"Breakfast," he explained. He pressed his hand against the wall and a small rectangle at the bottom of the glass front opened. The guy slid the tray into my cell and closed it.
I glared at him and the tray, and turned away. "I'm not hungry."
"Mr. Fox would rather you eat," the man insisted.
"Do I care what he wants?" I snapped back.
"Do the clothes not fit you?" was his other question.
I kicked the pile of clothes with my foot. "Not my style."
"I will endeavor to inform Mr. Fox of that fact," the man replied.
I heard him walk away, and in a moment the door opened and shut. I looked over my shoulder at the tray of meat, and then to the cell opposite me. Pale Guy was nowhere in sight. There was just his box. I walked over to the glass and pressed my nose against the cold surface to get a better look at his cell. No sign of him. He must have been in that box, but I couldn't figure out why. These cells were claustrophobic enough for me.
I plopped myself down against the left wall and turned to my left. The tray sat on the ground with a tempting appetizer of rare steak and mashed potatoes. My mouth salivated at the red blood that pooled beneath the mooing cut of meat. Just a little bite, one little swallow wouldn't mean I was giving my soul to the devil. Besides, I had to keep up my strength. Yeah, that was it, my strength.
Ten minutes later and I had one plate sans meat and potatoes. The potatoes didn't sit well with me, but the steak was delicious. I licked my lips, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes. The cool metal chilled me, but I felt too warm, anyway. There was also a feeling of tension inside me, like I was waiting for something, something like a-
"Full moon," I whispered.
My eyes shot open and I shuddered. I hadn't meant to think about that. That was the last thing I wanted to be reminded of. I ran a hand through my hair and gave a shuddered sigh. My mind wandered to that night, whenever night was in this place of endless lights. That lackey of Fox's said that was breakfast. That meant I'd been missing for quite a few hours.
"I should've made that date with Dakota. . ." I mumbled. Hell, I should've taken that taxi.
I had a long, long day to think about my mistakes. Fox's creep with the monosyllable voice came around two more times for meals. After the dinner hour I glanced at Pale Guy's cell. He still hadn't made an appearance. I wondered how he could breath in that box.
It was while staring at his box that I saw something strange emanate from between the lid and body. It was a thick white fog. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but I crept up to the glass and watched the fog cascade onto the floor and over to the front of his cell. The fog gathered itself in one spot and shot up to materialize into the form of my newfound, and terrifying, acquaintance, Pale Guy.
He smiled at me, and for the first time I realized his canine teeth were unbelievably long. I scooted away from my glass.
"What the hell are you?" I asked him.
He cut himself and once more used his blood as an etch-a-sketch. Another creature captured against his will, but we don't have time. Fox may visit us at any moment for an 'inspection' of his creatures, Pale Guy insisted.
"But-"
There isn't time, he persisted. It must be done now or never. Will you hesitate and doom yourself to a life inside that cell?
That didn't give me much time to wonder what I'd gotten myself into, but it did give me enough time to imagine another day in that cell. I took a deep breath and nodded. This was it, my big chance at saving the day. I knelt on the floor in front of the glass and tested the crack with my fingers. The smell from last night was still there, and stronger than before. I wrinkled my nose, but didn't let it stop me from shoving my fingernails into the crack.
I was stronger than last night, I could tell that by the indents my nails made in the metal. I wedged my fingers in behind my nails and wiggled them down the tight spot. After six inches I felt the base of the glass door and inched my fingers beneath the entrance. When I had a loose grip I tucked my legs under me with my feet on the floor like last night's demonstration of my strength.
And I pulled.
At first there was nothing, but slowly, achingly slowly, the glass door began to rise. Perspiration ran down my face. My legs screamed for a break, but I kept pulling upward. Pale Guy watched anxiously from his glass door. He was close enough he could have fogged on the glass, but there was no sign of his breath.
I had the door six inches above the floor when a shrill whistle drilled into my brain. I nearly lost my grip, and the door slid down two inches.
"Hurry!" Pale Guy yelled. "The alarm has sounded!"
I grunted and pulled harder. The door slid up two inches. Four more inches. I lowered my knees to the ground and slid my legs under the door. Then came my waist. One false move, one slip of the fingers, and I would have been cut in two. I wiggled my upper body under the glass and held it up above my head like it was a bar. I took a deep breath and pushed off from the bottom of the glass. It slammed back into place, but I was on the other side of the door.
And in trouble.
The hallway ran left and right. At the right was the black control panel and a door on the left wall beside it. To my left at the opposite end of the hall was the heavy metal door. It opened and in stepped Fox and his assistant. Fox had the familiar white gun in his hand.
"The panel!" Pale Guy screamed.
I scrambled to my feet and rushed down the hall. I covered the twenty yards in a few seconds and slammed my clasped fists into the panel. Electricity shot out from the myriad of buttons and screens. The lights overhead flickered and dimmed.
I turned and watched the other glass doors slide up. Pale Guy stepped out and smiled at me.
"Excellent work," he congratulated me. "Now if you will excuse me, som
e revenge is in order." He changed into mist and disappeared into some infinitesimal cracks in the metal floor.
"He's after the larger cells. Hurry!" Fox yelled at his bespectacled henchman.
The man bowed his head and hurried back the way they'd come. I took a step back and my back hit the broken control board. Fox took a few steps closer to me with the gun pointed at me.
"It seems I underestimated your strength," he surmised.
My eyes flickered to the door and I pressed my lips together. Only one chance. "Get used to underestimating me," I shot back.
I dove for the door. The tranquilizer dart sailed past my head and pinged off the wall. He didn't get a second shot before I slammed my shoulder into the exit and stumbled into a stairwell. There was up, or there was done. We were below-ground, so I chose the up route. I didn't stop running until I ran out of stairs four floors higher. The stairwell ended at another door, and I burst out of that one and onto another plain of existence, or so it looked.
I found myself on a grassy plain covered in trees. There was even a small pond twenty yards from the exit. The stars twinkled beautifully above me and far off I could see the near-full moon in the dark night sky. The sounds of the city were far away, but had a strange echoing to its noises.
I heard a clatter of footsteps behind me and took off to the right. A small strip of metal surrounded the edge of the grass and beyond that was darkness. Ten feet from the edge I realized what the darkness meant and slid to a stop with my toes hanging over the strip.
I teetered on the edge of the Indigo Towers two hundred floors above the city.
CHAPTER 5