The Doubt Factory

  “Get in, already!”

  “I’m trying!” Alix dragged her legs in and yanked the door closed. She glanced back. Lisa was running full out. “She’s going to catch us!”

  “Not if I can help it,” Cynthia said grimly. She gunned the engine. They squealed in a tight turn, heading for the mall exit. Death Barbie cut the corner, barreling toward them.

  “She’s still coming!” Alix warned.

  “How’d she see you leaving?”

  “The switch didn’t go so—Car!” Alix pointed.

  “I see it.” Cynthia shot past the BMW. Alix glimpsed the driver staring at them in horror as they blasted past, and then they were in the exit lanes, weaving. Ahead, the traffic light turned red.

  “Oh hell,” Cynthia muttered, slowing for the light.

  Alix glanced back. Lisa was gaining on them. “Um… Cynthia?” They were never going to get away.

  “Fuck it.” Cynthia gunned the engine. “Hold on.”

  Alix slammed back into her seat as the Miata accelerated. Cynthia slewed into the oncoming lane and ripped past all the cars stopped at the intersection.

  “What are you doing?” Alix shouted, but it was too late. They blasted out into the intersection, tires squealing as Cynthia cranked the wheel over. Horns blared. Alix grabbed for the door handle and braced to hit the oncoming cars.

  “Ahhhh!”

  They were sliding, all four wheels skidding across pavement as they made the turn. Alix was staring into the face of a driver of a Tesla, who was staring back at her with equal horror, both of them realizing they were about to die.

  The Miata’s tires caught. They shot through the rest of the turn, with Cynthia whooping triumph. “Goddamn, I’m good!”

  Alix was gasping with adrenaline, relief, and fear. She twisted around, checking for Lisa.

  Death Barbie had finally given up. The bodyguard was bent over, hands on her knees in the middle of traffic, red-faced. Panting and exhausted, staring after them.

  Alix shivered at Lisa’s expression. The woman looked so pissed she could have been a demon pursuer from one of Jonah’s Xbox games.

  “I am so dead,” Alix muttered as she slumped back into her seat.

  “Buckle up,” Cynthia said. “Safety first, and all that.” She started to laugh.

  “Safety first,” Alix said as she snapped the seat belt into place. “Is that what that was?”

  “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

  “That’s the bright side, I guess.”

  “Yeah. That was a little more excitement than I was expecting.”

  “Where’d you learn to drive that way?” Alix asked.

  “My dad got me lessons.”

  “Fuckin’ A, he did.” Alix closed her eyes. “Please don’t ever do that to me again.”

  Cynthia laughed. “I thought you wanted some excitement!”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got enough for a lifetime now. So thanks.”

  “What? You don’t want to go back, do you?”

  “No.” Alix closed her eyes. Her heart was slowing, the adrenaline leaking out of her, leaving her drained and a little depressed.

  It had seemed like a lot of fun to engineer this game. Escape from Death Barbie—she’d thought of it in her mind, but now that it was done, she wasn’t so sure of herself. A couple of weeks ago she would never have done this. Cynthia, neither, for that matter.

  It was like having security everywhere—everyone minding her every move—had made her more rebellious instead of less. She was used to being trusted. And now having that trust stripped away was more than a little uncomfortable.… It wasn’t her.

  Am I untrustworthy?

  Alix didn’t like the thought, but the reality of ditching Death Barbie was starting to settle in. Watching Lisa running after her, full out, desperate not to lose the girl she was supposed to protect…

  She’s the one who would have taken a bullet for you.

  Alix felt ill.

  Dad would be pissed, and Mom would be disappointed, and Jonah would think it was all a joke and be impressed that she’d actually rebelled against anything at all. But Lisa…

  Lisa was the one Alix actually felt bad about.

  Alix closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, trying to scrub away the feeling of guilt.

  The Miata cut through weekend traffic. Cynthia drove expertly. Just like her studying, Cynthia took her driving seriously.

  It was kind of funny. They were both such serious girls, and here they were, finally cutting loose with a high-speed escape.

  Dad is going to kill me.

  Cynthia pulled off the highway.

  “Why are we stopping?” Alix asked.

  Cynthia gave her a look as they pulled into a Home Depot parking lot. “You think Death Barbie didn’t get my license plate? They’re going to be looking for my car. We have to ditch it.”

  Alix laughed incredulously. “Are you serious?”

  “Aren’t you?” Cynthia shot back. “Your dad called the FBI when Jonah went missing for, like, three hours. You better believe they’re looking for us already.” Cynthia climbed out of the car. “Come on. I’ve got another car for us.”

  “Seriously? You’ve got a plan for this?”

  “What else was I going to think about all week? School?” Cynthia snorted. “If you’re going to plan an escape, you’ve got to do it right. It’s all about the details.”

  “Jesus Christ, Derek’s right.”

  “About what?”

  “You are an overachiever.”

  “I am not!”

  “I’m pretty sure most people aren’t this OCD about going to a party,” Alix said as she trailed after Cynthia.

  “Most people don’t have Death Barbie screwing up their social life,” Cynthia shot back.

  Alix pulled Cynthia to a halt. “Hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to dis you. It’s just…” She sighed. “It’s just a lot, that’s all. My parents are going to worry.”

  “It’s a little late to be freaking out about that, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “You think I went over the top.” Cynthia looked so crestfallen that Alix almost wanted to apologize just for criticizing her.

  “Running the light might have been…” Alix tried to find words.

  Cynthia groaned. “I know, I know. I just panicked. Death Barbie made me think of that old Terminator movie.” Cynthia hesitated. “Why don’t you leave that note we talked about,” she suggested finally. “If they find my car before we’re back, they’ll still know you’re fine.”

  Alix thought about it. “I could just text them.…”

  “No. Turn off your cell for sure. Leave it in the car.”

  “Oh, come on. You don’t think they’ll track that, too, do you?”

  “I don’t know what Williams and Crowe can do, but if you actually want to party tonight, I’d bet on paranoia.”

  Cynthia led her back to the Miata. They found paper and a pen, and Alix wrote:

  Dear Mom and Dad, Just need to blow off some steam. I’ll be back tomorrow.

  Love, Alix.

  PS—

  She hesitated. PS??? What hell am I thinking?

  PS—Sorry?

  PS—You look after Jonah for a change?

  “Will you come on, girl?” Cynthia urged. “This is like the slowest getaway in history.”

  “I’m trying! This is hard for me. What am I supposed to say? What did you tell your parents?”

  “Are you crazy?” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tell them anything. They think I’m sleeping over at your house.”

  “Lucky you.”

  Finally, Alix settled on:

  PS—I’m sorry. Please don’t worry.

  I’m fine.

  “Better?” Cynthia asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank God. Then dump your phone and let’s go, already.” Cynthia led Alix out of the parking lot to an
adjacent one and another car, a beat-up orange monstrosity that looked like it had come out of the seventies.

  “What the heck is this?”

  “Dodge Dart.” Cynthia grinned. “Total death trap. Your dad would shit if he saw you in this.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “I borrowed it from a cousin.”

  Alix shook her head. “I can’t believe how well you planned this.”

  “Okay, so maybe I am an overachiever. Perfect SATs, and perfect getaways.” Cynthia sounded a little defensive. “Do you want to party, or not?”

  Alix stared at the car, still hesitating. It wasn’t just that she was going to be grounded for this escapade, with all kinds of “proportional” and “related” consequences that Mom and Dad loved to come up with (though ususally for Jonah); it was that it felt like, by getting into the battered Dodge Dart, she was crossing a boundary. Stepping across into some other place, becoming someone else. By blowing off everything that a sensible person would do and getting into this car, it felt like she was breaking something permanently.

  It’s just a damn car.

  “We doing this?” Cynthia pressed.

  Alix looked up at her friend.

  Are we?

  Alix grinned. “Definitely.”

  13

  “ARE YOU SURE THIS IS THE right place?” Alix asked.

  Cynthia was eyeing their surroundings doubtfully as well. It was a warehouse district, nondescript buildings all around. Old factories. Old redbrick. Cracks in the concrete. “It’s in the flyer,” she said.

  In the failing light, factory and warehouse shapes loomed menacingly. The rusty Dodge bounced over railroad tracks as they drove deeper into the industrial area.

  “What’s that up there?” Alix pointed.

  “Car lights.”

  Behind them, another car’s beams shone.

  “It’s got to be here somewhere.”

  They followed the lights. More cars were converging. People flocking to the secret point of contact. Total underground. Guerrilla party. Just ahead, cars were parked, people sitting on hoods in the warm spring night. Cynthia pulled to a stop.

  “I told you I had it right.”

  They got out and stood staring at the warehouse. More cars were pulling up. The busier it got, the more secure Alix felt about the venue. They were in the middle of industrial nowhere, but they weren’t alone.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  But now it was Cynthia’s turn to hesitate. “I don’t know. We don’t have to do this, Alix. We could just go back.”

  “Seriously? After everything we went through to get here?”

  “I’m just saying that it’s no skin off my nose. The ’rents won’t know one way or the other, for me. It’s different with you. I don’t…” She shrugged.

  Alix laughed and waved the bottle of vodka that she’d brought along.

  “I’m already busted,” she said. “I’m not doing the time if I don’t get to do the crime.” She popped open the vodka bottle and took a swig, making a face, and then offered it to Cynthia. “Come on. I need a party.”

  Alix headed for the entrance. Every time the door opened, the throb of bass reverberated from deep within the warehouse. She paused, looked back, and grinned. “We can’t be daddy’s girls all the time.”

  That did it. They were nearly racing each other by the time they made it to the door. They paid some feral Latino street kid who looked like he was about twelve to get in, and the kid pushed the door open for them. A deep growl of thumping bass emanated from the warehouse’s maw, welcoming them.

  Inside, the huge space was already thick with bodies. The bass was a deep thrum in her limbs, in her bones, rubbing out Death Barbie and all the hassles of the last two weeks. Lights strobed. Dancers, wearing kandi cuffs and masks, gyrated to the driving sounds; glow sticks dangled around necks, illuminating skin and sweat and bodies ecstatically entwined.

  Alix pushed into the crowd, loving the intensity of the music. She started letting her body move to its rhythms, trying to shake off all the irritations of 2.0’s interference in her life. Trying to loosen up, to feel the vodka that she’d already drunk, the freedom of the crowd and music, and the joy of being completely out from under anyone’s thumb. Free. Completely free.

  She swayed with the beat, enjoying the spectacle of hundreds of people filling the space, dancing up on old warehouse crates that had been illuminated with strobes, while others danced inside enormous industrial metal cages, clutching bars and writhing like they were the prisoners of some postapocalyptic dance tribe. Rusted sheet metal hung from the walls, sprayed with green glowing icons. Radiation, Bicycle Lane, Peace, Biohazard, Migrant Worker Crossing, Chairman Mao… a Dada procession of symbols against the industrial metal decay. At one end of the floor, Alix glimpsed a massive rusted iron wheel, like some kind of insane steroidal hamster wheel, that spun with glow lights, blurring and pulsing to the beats of the DJ.

  Alix took another swig of vodka and passed it to Cynthia. They danced. Cynthia drank and handed it back, and Alix decided she’d had enough and let the bottle go, gifting it to a stranger, who mouthed thanks and then sent the bottle… wherever. It didn’t matter to Alix. She threw her hands up and danced. She didn’t need to be drunk. She was already glowing.

  They danced, feeling the ecstasy of the beats, of movement, of being completely alive. Cynthia was grinning back at her. Her tight white T-shirt glowed blue under the black lights. The vodka burned in Alix’s blood. Perfect.

  Someone was handing out orange and lime glow sticks. Alix tied one around her wrist, another around her neck. The music went on and on, an ocean of sound flowing through her.

  Cynthia disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a pair of pills.

  “What is it?” Alix shouted.

  “What do you think?” Cynthia said.

  The old Alix would have worried about where it had come from and what was in it, but this Alix, this newly alive Alix, didn’t care. For once, I just want to have fun. She didn’t want to have to look over her shoulder anymore. Just for a little while.

  Fuck it.

  She popped the pill and danced.

  Her body felt warm and delicious. She was high and drunk, and the music rolled over her. A girl was spinning fire, arcs whirling fast and hypnotic, tracing lines and circles around her sweating body, her dreads spinning wide. Cynthia was dancing between some boys, one on each side, and she was laughing.

  Alix danced until her limbs felt heavy. She let the crowd push her out toward the edges of the dance floor, looking for space, for room to breathe. She moved toward the wall, tired, slowing.

  A streak of blue caught Alix’s eye, down along the wall. She stopped dancing, her chest heaving.

  There it was again—a blue spark slipping along the edge of the warehouse floor.

  A blue rat.

  Alix laughed out loud.

  Whoa. Cool drugs.

  She’d never seen a blue rat.

  Alix laughed again. Jesus, she was high. The rat wasn’t blue. It was white, turned bright and ethereal by the black lights of the rave. Alix stared at the rat, loving how it looked, how it moved. It was mesmerizing the way it dashed back and forth along the edge of the dance floor, disappearing behind crates, streaking past lovers making out, ducking behind the big industrial dance cages. Darting this way and that…

  Gorgeous.

  Alix couldn’t help wanting it. She stumbled after it, wondering how the thing had gotten here all the way from Seitz. She could imagine it thumbing a ride up from the school. Cute rat… Cute little guy like you shouldn’t be out like this, she thought. You’ll get stomped.

  She followed the rat as it slipped behind the DJ’s stage and racks of amps. This close to the speakers, the music wasn’t something that Alix heard so much as felt. A physical envelopment pressing through every pore of her body. Mom and Dad would have been shaking their heads and reminding her that she’d be deaf by forty, but Alix could
n’t be bothered to care. She felt fantastic, and she’d found the most amazing blue rat.

  As she eased past the amps, she caught sight of the DJ up on his stage, looking down at her. Gorgeous blond boy, slender as a willow, his headphones held to his ear as he mixed beats. Alix smiled up at him. She waved, feeling delighted and drunk and high and fine. The beautiful boy smiled back, and the beat shifted; hammering chimes began filtering into the music, gothic, dark, and ecstatic.

  The blue rat flashed across the floor again. Alix followed, winding behind the amps, stumbling over scaffolding and cords. She felt unsteady on her feet. How much vodka had she drunk? Part of her wanted to go back to the dancing and feel the throb and rush of all the other dancers around her, but she couldn’t quite let the blue rat go.

  The rat slipped out of the black light and became a white shadow. It disappeared through a crack in the wall. Not a crack. A door. Alix pulled it open. The room beyond was pitch-black. She stepped inside cautiously. The music’s volume lessened, replaced by a ringing in her ears.

  Flashes of light from the dance floor threw her shadow across bare concrete. The rat was sitting in the center of the dark room, up on its hind legs. It was sniffing the air, gazing at something.

  What the—?

  A wall of rats.

  A whole huge wall of caged rats.

  She turned in a slow circle, stunned at the sight. The cages were everywhere, she realized. They rose from floor to ceiling, disappearing into the darkness above. The smell was now so clear and obvious that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it immediately: the musky scent of wood shavings and urine. Thousands and thousands of rats, poking their noses through the wires of their cages, nipping at the metal, reaching through with tiny claws, staring down at her, all of them struggling to get free.

  Out on the dance floor, the hammering chimes rose and blurred into an electronic wail. Alix stared up at the rats, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

  Am I going crazy?

  And then suddenly it hit her. Rats. Thousands of rats. Stolen from a testing lab. 2.0. Right here. They were right here. She was inside their lair.