The Compound

Chapter SEVENTEEN

DAD WAS STILL AND UNRESPONSIVE. MOM AND I LOOKED AT each other.

I rubbed my chin. “Do you know anything? Did Dad ever say anything about this?”

She put her hand over her mouth. “Early on, I asked your father once, about the code to the door. How we would get out if something happened to him. Of course he said nothing would happen to him. Still, he promised he would leave a way for us to get out.”

I wasn’t sure how much weight a promise from my father carried anymore. “But he went crazy since then. He didn’t want us to leave.”

Mom met my eyes. She hesitated.

I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake, anything to get the words to come out faster. “Mom? What?”

She looked down at her belly as she rubbed it. “He told me he’d leave a clue. That there was a clue that would lead to another and another, eventually leading to the answer.”

“So that’s it. Turducken must be the clue.”

Mom let out a breath. “That wasn’t all. The first time he told me about it, he was still nice. He acted like it was just matter-of-fact, a little scavenger hunt. Then, later, when he started to get mean…”

“Mom?”

“I was afraid he would go back on his word. But then he laughed, said he would leave the clue, even though he didn’t think any of us would be able to figure it out.”

I looked at Dad, lying in the bed. “I think he’s sorry for it. For everything. And he wants us to get out. Maybe it’s just to save himself, but it doesn’t matter.” I sighed. “I need to think. To figure this out.”

Mom nodded. “Why don’t you take some time?”

“No, I need to—”

Reaching over Dad, she grabbed my hand. “Take some time. Even just a half hour. I’ll stay here.” I tried to protest.

“Promise me. You don’t come back here for thirty minutes.”

I promised.

Despite everything that had just happened, I was hungry. On my way to the kitchen, I heard giggles coming from one of the rooms. The salon. Inside, Lexie was trimming the little girl’s hair.

How could she be doing that when our world was ripping apart? I stepped closer, planning to give her hell.

Lexie told the little girl to sit still, and said her name. Cara.

Cara sat in a booster seat on the swivel chair, smiling at herself in the mirror. Lexie’s eyes met mine in our reflections.

My mouth opened, ready to yell, ask her how she could just be standing there like nothing was wrong.

She saw the look in my eyes. “They don’t know anything.” Her eyes drifted down to Cara. “They don’t know about worry or sadness. All they know is that life is simple and secure and every day will be like the one before it.” She looked back at me. “That’s a gift. Do you want to be the one responsible for taking it away?”

I leaned against the doorway, my throat tight.

“You’re done, sweetie.” Lexie helped Cara get down and led her over to some blocks, then came over to me and spoke so Cara couldn’t hear. “What’s going on?”

I told her the truth. “I’m not sure.”

“Then I’m going to keep helping with the little kids. It’s my routine and routine is good.” Lexie went in front of the mirror and took out her bun, letting her hair cascade around her shoulders. She combed through it and started to trim.

My eyes went to my reflection in the mirror. My own hair. I pulled it forward and let it cover my face so I could no longer see. As I pushed it back, my fingers ran through it. My hair was my shield, a wall, to keep everyone out. Or was it? Did it keep something in? My reflection smiled a bit. I had no secrets left. “Want to cut mine?”

Lexie stopped trimming. “Are you kidding me?”

I shook my head.

“You trust me to cut your hair?”

“Hell, no.” I smiled.

“Then…”

“It could use a trim.” I sat down in the chair. “And I have thirty minutes to kill. Mom’s orders.”

Lexie set down the scissors and picked up a wide-toothed comb. She hesitated, and then began.

My hair was thick, hard to comb through. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” She stopped.

“I’m used to it.”

She finished combing and started to cut, barely taking off more than an inch. She paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m kind of at your mercy right now, so go ahead.” In my lap, my fingers were wringing the hair band as my knuckles turned white.

“What do you remember of me, from before? When we didn’t live here?” She started cutting again.

“Grapes.”

“Huh?”

“Frozen grapes. I hated to watch you eat them, it was like someone scratching a blackboard.”

Lexie smiled. “I loved frozen grapes. The way the cold almost hurt.” She shook her head. “I miss them. I was mad that Dad couldn’t even throw some in the freezers down here.”

I didn’t say anything.

She just stood there. “It wasn’t even that. You know what bothered me?” I shrugged.

“That maybe he didn’t stock any because he had no idea they were my favorite food. That’s what really bothered me.”

“There’s a lot Dad didn’t know about all of us. And even more we didn’t know about him.” Lexie kept cutting. I grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

“What?” She looked at me in the mirror. “You wanted me to do this. Is it too short?”

I let her go and stood up, pulling out drawers until I found what I was looking for. I brandished the electric clippers. “Use these.”

“I can’t trim hair with those.”

“Don’t want it trimmed.” I handed her the clippers and sat back down. “I want it gone.”

“Why?”

There wasn’t an explanation I could put into words. “Just do it.”

The buzzing started.

She didn’t shave my head, but adjusted the setting to give me a short cut. The hair fell off in long clumps, drifting to the floor.

When the buzzing stopped, I ran my hands over my scalp.

I felt lighter. Less burdened. And totally visible to anyone who wanted to see me.

“You look good.” Lexie smiled. “Definitely an improvement, anyway.”

When I stood, I was ankle deep in my own hair.

“Go.” Lexie took the broom from the corner. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Thanks.”

On the way to the kitchen for a quick salad, I heard a bang from the direction of Dad’s office. Mom was inside the secret lab, tearing it apart. Shattered glass lay everywhere. Before I could stop her, she shoved over a table with a grunt, spilling piles of papers on the floor.

“Mom!”

She turned to look at me, her chest heaving. Her hair had come loose and a few strands hung down in front of her face. “I have to find that clue and get you all out of here.”

She noticed my hair then, and started to say something else, then fell backward, grabbing for something to hold on to. She could only reach a small stand, which toppled onto her as she collapsed on the floor, unconscious, in a small pool of blood.