Chapter 11 – it is the morality of altruism that men have to reject.”

“Nice look, princess.” Fisher laughs.

I can’t flip him off with the banana in my hand, so I retaliate with, “Better than a mullet.”

“No way, man.” He runs his fingers through the greasy strands dangling at his nape.

I roll my eyes and face Jackson. Neither of them can know that Fisher hit my Achilles’ heel. I hate my frizzy hair. The TSA screwed me over when the creams I’d brought to straighten my curls or mask my freckles were confiscated. Not that Rowena gave me a minute to try.

 Whatever. I’m sure someone else will look worse than I do, but when we pick up the others, Dee Dee’s hair looks fine, still in the tight braids. And Mario used spike gel.

Great. I tell myself it doesn’t matter what any of these stupid jerks look like. Temporary, only temporary. Once the lab results come back I’ll never see these jokers again. Jackson points us toward a well-worn path behind the clinic and we follow him like a group of kindergarteners. In our borrowed boots, we crunch over patches of quickly melting snow. The sun has risen hot and I stuff the banana in my jacket pocket before taking it off.

“You’ve already seen the clinic, the lodge, classrooms and all four dorms. Only three other structures to see. The Rec, The Chapel and The Bunker.”

As we round a corner of trees, I take a bite from the muffin, surprised that it actually tastes good. Must be because I’m so hungry. Jackson stops and points out The Chapel. “There are services almost every evening. On Thursdays, visitors are allowed to come up to share with the students their faith. It’s not a place you have to go, but many people find comfort there.”

Uncle John mentioned something about a visitor. I’m suddenly glad it’s Friday. He could forget about me going in there next week or the week after that. Jackson moves on and I look back at The Chapel. Unfinished pine beams hold up a wooden awning. As we pass another path, I notice the building is circular. Beyond the porch, glass walls and doors remind me of Rowena’s map. This is the sun-shaped structure the other buildings orbit around. I’ve never been religious, and I’ve read enough about strange cults to keep me away forever. The Center is awful enough without any additional brainwashing. Besides, let’s see if Nanny Bella’s Baby Jesus or Mother Mary will step in to help me. If not, they can forget about me ever entering that place. I take another bite then hurry to catch up with the group hoping to leave The Chapel’s creepy vibes behind me.

“So, Courtney.” Jackson looks over his shoulder at me. “I hear you got a Mark yesterday. Pretty fast doings.”

“What?” Fisher laughs.

“Marks are no joke. Besides The Bracelet, it’s the only penalty system at The Center.”

“What are you going to do, put me in time-out?” I finish the muffin and dust my hands. Mario and Dee Dee both grin as Fisher lets out another infectious laugh.

“Marks lead to The Bunker. And that’s not a place you want to find yourself.”

I shrug. I could care less about their stupid demerit program. This whole place is a massive time out. The Bunker Jackson talks about might as well be the dorm or the booking room. Unless they have torture devices in their dungeon, four walls are four walls. They’ve already taken all I have. Unless they kill me, there’s nothing left. My best hope is to be infectious. One crusty lab would be great, a virus bad enough to get me a ticket out of here.

We hike past classrooms and through the barn turned into a gym. The basketball court stands where horses used to eat. Up in what they call the loft they have chairs, Ping-Pong and Foosball tables, and other games to keep the animals happy.

I feel my stomach gurgle. I push back thoughts of getting sick and follow the group. The nausea would be annoying if it wasn’t my ticket out of this zoo.

From The Rec, we climb a steep hill. I’m not one for exercise and I find myself panting pretty hard by the time we reach the top.

“Behold,” Jackson stretches his hand out, “The Bunker.”

We stand at the edge and looked down. A metallic building stands contrary to its wooded environment. In the city, the pyramid structure might pass as art or even a shrine. But here it looked alien.

“Cool,” Fisher moves closer to the top of the rise.

I completely disagree. Nothing cool about this place. The blog post dungeon appears impenetrable. The possibility of torture feels more real. Cement benches surround the steel building at geometric angles. While it’s not the maze it appeared like on the map, each bench sits isolated from the next. Sidewalks weave in and out toward the metal entrance.

Jackson takes us down a staircase carved into the cliff. There’s no rail on the open side. I hug the mountain edge as we descend about two stories.  

“Where is the snow?”

“The heated sidewalks have melted it.”

“Heated sidewalks?”

“Yeah. “ Jackson takes us to the concrete patio surrounding the two-story, metal pyramid. “And these benches actually have sensors.” He leans over and shows us a cup-shaped, plastic-covered thermometer. “The slits let in small bits of air to determine temperature or toxins. Some domes,” he points to another. “Have cameras to assess when it’s safe to return to the surface. It’s an underground shelter, originally intended to house students during natural disasters.”

“Like a tornado room?”

“Yes. Although we don’t get many tornadoes up here. Mostly blizzards and the occasional forest fire.”

“Sounds more like a bomb shelter.”

“For Armageddon.” Mario’s voice wavers.

My nausea has moved to my throat. We’ve been walking for a while. Without asking, I sit down on a bench. I’m sick of this tour. This place. This life.

“Doesn’t look so scary to me,” Fisher adds.

“Really?” Jackson faces the jock. “Last month, they put a student down there. When she returned after a two-week stay, she’d lost more than weight. Her eyes were dull and unfocused. She drifted through classes. I peeked over her shoulder one day. A page of doodles and gibberish lay in front of her.”

“Come on,” I scoff, hoping all the horrible ideas in my head are wrong. “You make it sound like some kind of social experience conducted by Nazis in World War II.”

“Maybe it is. I’ve never been deep inside.”

Dee Dee shivers. “How deep is it?”

“The pyramid is just an entrance. From what I understand the natural and carved caves go hundreds of feet below the earth.”

The whole thing sounds too dystopian for me. 

“I heard they used it in the blizzard of ‘06. But I didn’t work here then. Rowena tells me it was great to get the students safe, but even she was creeped out by the place and couldn’t’ wait to get out.”

Whoa. What kind of monster scares another monster?

“Rowena’s not a monster.” Jackson pats me on the back.

I shake my head. While the words slipped, I meant them. It’s super creepy to know that the big guard is off the place.

“So who goes down there if it isn’t the guards?” Dee Dee asks.

“The counselors control The Bunker.” He tips his head toward me. “I hope that makes you think twice about collecting marks.”

I turn away from him. I’m ready to puke and he isn’t helping.

“Let’s go inside.” Fisher walks up to the metal frame and yanks the handle on the door. “It’s locked.”

Jackson shakes his head. “Bigger men have tried and failed, my friend.” He heads back to the stairs and helps Dee Dee up. I walk to the side of the mountain and give my stomach permission to heave.