Within These Walls

Chapter 17

Two days later, the timer resets and begins a countdown for six more. The next few days pass in relative calm. Relative being the key word. There are incidents here and there: kids getting into bickering matches, fist-fights, theft of personal belongings, resulting in a bloody nose for an accused, and a troubling case of sexual assault in the shower room that, thankfully, turns out to be nothing more than an ugly rumor.

A lot of these events happen when Marcus isn't around. He's in the gym most of the day and goes straight to his bedroom in the evening while the rest of us watch TV or play cards or board games in the lounge room, so he's not around often enough to administer rules or bring the law down on those who break it.

His dark mood must be connected to the seizure incident. The inquisitive part of me wants to ask him about that. Walk into his bedroom one evening and find out why it bothers him so much. Stop him during those awkward morning run-ins when it's just the two of us and he's waiting for the bathroom while I'm using it.

The other more dominant part of me is the reason I stare at the floor when I step out of the bathroom and hurry past him. I don't want to risk getting him even more riled up, so I leave him alone, grateful that he's keeping all that anger bottled up inside him.

That changes around lunchtime a day before the countdown runs out.

Carson, Willow, and I leave the serving table, carrying plates that hold soggy tortillas stuffed with chili left over from yesterday's dinner. The whole mess is seeping beans and clumps of meat. Carson holds his plate away from his body and grimaces.

"Y'all know I was there when this chili was made, right?" he asks us.

He was assigned to kitchen duty yesterday. Marcus might not be strutting around yelling orders anymore, but the wheels of his operation are still turning. His so-called officers, like Eli and even Alec, have run the system in his absence.

"Not one of us knew what we were doing, so we just dumped the ingredients in there at the same time," Carson continues. "This one boy even suggested we add lettuce. Lettuce! He said it tastes good with tomatoes in a salad, so they should go together in chili, too. I swear, we'll end up dead anyway because of food poisoning."

"No kidding," Willow says. "I went to bed with a stomachache last night."

"Did it keep you up?" I ask. As usual, she looks like she hasn't gotten much sleep.

"That's the third time you've asked me that," she says.

There's a teasing glint in her eyes. I blush anyway because I've been caught being nosy. Sam wouldn't approve of the way I've been getting close to these people. He's always told me that being alone was for my own good.

If he's involved in this, what does he think every time he sees me smile as Alec pretends to be angry at Carson for cheating at poker? How disgusted was he when I confided in Willow that I haven't been close to anyone in years and she gave me a hug and promised she'd change that? What would he do to me for disobeying him in so many unforgivable ways?

I'm saved from having to think up an answer when we run into a wall of people blocking our way into the cafeteria. We squeeze past them, careful not to lose our plates, and find Marcus and Rudolph on the other side. Marcus looks like steam should be shooting from his ears. Tremors of rage run through him, so slight I only see them because I'm studying him closely

"Yeah, I don't think so, Cap," Rudolph says. "With all your talk about the strongest surviving, what does that make you now? First chance things get tough, you fall down like a little girl and lose your shit. You don't call the shots anymore. We need a real leader in charge."