Free Escape from Harrizel by C.G. Coppola

muscular in proportion. In
the wild he was just a face, a combination of confusion and
surprise but here, he towers, his short, shaggy brown hair the same
color as his high arching brows and deep, penetrating gaze.
    “I saw you out there…”
    He glances beyond me, quickly calculating.
He brings both pinkies up to his mouth and whistles, the sound
sailing behind me. I know he’s calling for someone but the sight of
him keeps me frozen in place. He’s the only one I know for certain
that’s done it. The only who’s gone beyond the gate—and returned.
Did he slip through? Between the rods like I’d planned? Or is there
another way? A thousand questions erupt as I replay seeing him out
there, the most important thought rushing to the surface.
    “What were you doing?” I ask, unable to keep
my eyes off him, “everything went black. I woke up and…”
    He whistles again, catching eyes with
someone in the distance. There’s a commotion behind me, a shuffle
of feet and I know we’re about to be separated. He must know it too
because the right side of his mouth rises, a fishhook caught in his
cheek. He’ll be rid of me soon enough. What a punk. I desperately
want to knee him, but this is my chance. Violent tactics, though
they feel appropriate, may ruin the whole thing. And if I lose him,
I may never discover how he got out there.
    “What happened to me?” I demand and his
sight drops back down. “I can’t remember anything… what did you do ?”
    His lips part, but as it looks like he may
actually utter a response, I’m cut off, pushed back by several
bodies which begin dancing between us. The boy—whoever he is—uses
the opportunity to escape into the crowd, but not before offering
me one final look. It holds guilt, confusion… maybe he wanted to
tell me. But he’s gone before he can change his mind and I’m left
peering after him and into a hive of dancers.
    He’s not getting away that easy.
    Shifting to the side of the new group, I
start after him when more bodies conveniently block my way. I dodge
them but more appear, creating an impenetrable shield between us.
I’m about to barrel through, knocking everyone from my path when
Raj’s voice sails over.
    “Fallon? What’re you…” she scurries up to
me, her eyes wide, “what’re you doing ?”
    “I have to find…” I’m still attempting to
dodge past the dancers but they’ve entangled themselves like a
nest, “…this guy…”
    “Who?”
    “I don’t know his name,” I nearly run into a
hard torso. “Uh—could you move?”
    “Fallon,” Raj grasps my hand, yanking me
back to her, “you’ve got to be careful.”
    “Why?”
    “You can’t…” she glances around, “you can’t
just do whatever you want.”
    “Why not?”
    “There’s a system,” she whispers.
    “What do you mean a system ? Raj?” I
focus in on her, completely abandoning my search of the boy. “Raj,
what aren’t you telling me?”
    She leans in and cups her hand to my ear.
“The Clans.”
    “Clans?” I jerk back.
    “Sshh! We don’t talk about them! Not out
loud, at least.”
    “Why not? What are they?”
    She resumes cupping her hand to my ear, her
words leaving in an exasperated rush, “They’re two rival groups.
Gangs, if you want the truth. They run everything here, including
the Market, which is where we buy our real food. But you
have to be careful. You can’t walk around accosting anyone. It’ll
get back to them. It’ll cause trouble.”
    I pull back and look between her eyes. She’s
completely serious.
    I definitely want to know more about this
Market but as I’m deciding on my question, she gestures me to speak
into her ear as she did for me. Obviously, this is not a
conversation to be having openly. It seems silly discussing
something so secretive right here in the middle of foreplay
central, so I motion to the closest Maze entrance nearby. It’s the
green and plum-black checkered wall. The West entrance. “Did you
want to talk back