18
Marisa woke to Christy’s voice. “You just couldn’t stay away, huh?”
Marisa squeezed her eyes tight, and Christy moved on to Christian, gently saying his name and patting his cheeks. He startled awake and immediately went into attack mode, pushing at Christy, who didn’t resist and flew back a few feet, landing on her back. “Ouch!” she cried, rubbing at her shoulder. Marisa guessed she had some good bruises from the fights earlier.
“What? Who? Where?” Christian said until he saw Marisa and calmed down.
“You are wherever I am,” Christy said. “Lucky you.” She pressed her hand to her forehead.
The calm didn’t last. He popped to his feet, feeling for his weapon or radio or anything. Marisa did the same. Christy shook her head. “Sorry, they stripped us of anything they saw as useful to use for escape and put us in these pretty clothes.” They were in bright orange prison inmate jumpsuits.
“How long have we been in here?” Marisa asked.
“Maybe a minute,” Christy said. “The light popped on and that wall opened up.” She pointed to the wall. “Four men stood outside the door. Two with guns and two that shoved you guys in here. I tried to rush them, but they fired a couple of shots and then shut the door. The good thing is that they forgot to turn out the light.” She glanced around the room. “I searched the room in the dark and couldn’t find a way out, but maybe now we can.” She started searching the room.
Marisa and Christian began to examine the room, too.
“Everyone is here, searching for you,” Marisa said. “What time is it?”
“I have no idea. No watch. No phone.”
“I know where we are,” Christian said with a groan.
“What? Where?” Marisa asked.
“We aren’t even in the castle. We’re in the dungeons.”
“This doesn’t look like a prison cell to me,” Marisa said. The room looked like an empty room in a newly built house that had sat empty for a while, collecting dust and bugs. In one corner sat an open toilet with no lid and a tiny sink set into the wall. A mat covered in white cotton material sat on the floor with a white sheet and blanket on it. No pillow. The floor was painted cement.
“It’s a prison cell that can be bought,” Christian said. “Rich people pay off the monarchy to live out their prison terms in style. The bad news is that there is no way out besides that hidden door, and if you try to jimmy it, the room will fill with poison gas. The door is made out of steel and even if we got to it, we wouldn’t be able to move it.”
“Are you telling me this sheetrock is set over stone and steel?” Christy walked to the wall and brushed her hand over it.
“Yes,” Christian said. “We’re stuck here until our captors let us out or someone happens to find us, which is not likely. Not even all the prison guards know about this place.” He pushed his back against a wall and slid down it, his knees coming up to his chest.
“We will find a way out,” Marisa said and took off her shoe. She started pounding it into the wall and a dent gave way to the stone beneath it.
Christy watched her with interest and joined Marisa. “Hold on.” She peered into the small hole Marisa had made. “This sheetrock isn’t attached directly to the wall, there are furring strips behind it.” She reached her fingers inside the two inch gap between the rocks and the sheetrock.
“And?” Christian said.
“If the door is made out of steel, how did the four guards get it open?” It was like she was talking to herself. She walked swiftly to the wall near the door and removed her shoe and started to pound it into the wall making another small hole.
“It opens electronically.”
“As I deduced,” Christy said absentmindedly as she widened the hole with her hands, the sheetrock crumbling to the ground.
Christian stood. “Stop. You’ll trigger the gas.”
“The trigger must also be electronic,” Marisa said and created a hole near the bottom of the door.
“Why aren’t you listening to me?”
Marisa said in a slow, even tone, “Christy has a really great memory, remember?” She glanced over at Christian, who gave her a confused look.
“I’m betting in Christy’s line of work that she has learned all about electronics and how they work. Am I right, Christy?”
Christy grinned and looked at Marisa. “Yep.” Marisa continued to dig at the wall right next to the door until she hit pay dirt. A wire. “Christy, here. A wire.”
Christy sat down and together, the two girls unearthed a whole bunch of wires while Christian worked near the top of the door.
Christy stared hard at the wires and then said, “Anything up there?”
“Nothing yet.”
She started fingering the wires. “Do you remember how many buttons were on the switch that opens this door?”
“Uh,” Christian said.
“Remember yourself walking up to the door. If you can’t remember that, go back and remember entering the dungeon. Let your mind relax and remember. Take your time.”
“I’m walking up to the hidden door. Guard Liam is laughing. He tells me to hit the green button and adds that the yellow sends the toxic gas and the red closes the door.”
Pride burst in Marisa’s chest. Christian had been able to do as Christy asked and had remembered.
“What else do you see?”
“A dungeon hallway made out of stones.”
“Nothing else that sticks out in your memory?”
“Nothing.” He started to chip further into the sheetrock going above the door now.
In Marisa’s mind, a clock ticked—a clock attached to a bomb that would go off if she didn’t get to the ceremony in time.
Christy grabbed hold of three wires with one hand while the other played with her hair. “Ah, hah. They missed one.” She waved a bobby pin in the air. She then started bending the wires back and forth, back and forth, the bobby pin in her mouth. She talked around it. “There is a chance that something I do will trigger the gas. If you two could kindly look for a possible entry point?” They started searching the walls. A yellow wire broke in Christy’s hands and she cheered quietly, “One down.”
Marisa, on the other hand, had frozen. She heard an unmistakable hiss that slowly tapered off. The door did not move, but the sound came from that direction. She swallowed and pulled up on the collar of her jumpsuit. “Cover your mouths, lady and gentleman,” Marisa said. “The gas is spewing from somewhere near the door. Christy?”
Christy glanced around and then pulled hard on the two other wires in her hand. “Guess I don’t need to be careful anymore.” The wires pulled out of the door. Christy looked at the door, a look of alarm on her face, and then grunted. “That should have worked.” She zoned out again, but started to cough.
“Cover up, Christy,” Marisa shouted as she searched the area near the door for any type of opening.
Christy pulled her collar up over her nose. “Ah, yes. There must be a failsafe near the top of the door.” Her voice was calm as she stood. “Christian?”
He moved to her side. “There should be a red or maybe black thick wire at the top of the door. Find it please.” He tore at the sheetrock with abandon. Marisa pitched in. “Almost there.”
Christy would have helped had she been tall enough. Then Christian said, “Got it.”
“Good.” She handed him the bobby pin, which had been stripped of its plastic ends making it sharp. “Strip the outer coating away to expose the wires beneath.”
He gave her a crazy look, his face paling. “I don’t feel well.”
“The wire,” Marisa said. “Strip it.” She spoke between coughs. They were all coughing now. “You can do it, Christian.”
He scraped and scraped.
“When you get through,” Christy said, “find the green wire and break it.”
“Are you sure?” he asked as he continued to work. “I mean, what you did earlier didn’t seem to help us at all.”
“Yes. What I did and what you are about to do both needed to happen in order to get this door open.” Christy bent over, a coughing fit taking over.
“Keep going, Christian,” Marisa said. “I can see colors behind the black, you’re getting there.” He scraped, then coughed, then scraped. Marisa kept her eyes peeled on the wire, thinking of nothing else as she coughed. They were going to survive. They had to.
“That’s it!” Marisa exclaimed, and Christian fell to the floor next to Christy, who was also out. “No!” she screamed moving toward them. As she bent, her head swam, so she stopped and leaned on the wall. She looked up toward the wire. What color had Christy said to cut? The colored wire inside the small hole seemed to be undulating. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them. “Green,” she muttered. “Cut the green.”
It took everything she had, but she reached up and grabbed hold of the wire and bent it back and forth as Christy had. Back and forth. Her body pressed hard into the wall as she worked. Dizziness was overtaking her, but then she felt the small snap of the wire. She couldn’t celebrate as the door opened, instead, she rolled around the door jamb and took gulping breaths of the clean air.
She puked and puked again, coughing uncontrollably. She turned to the room and saw Christian and Christy lying there. She wanted to help them but her head spun. She couldn’t stand just yet. She crawled into the room and dragged Christian out first, taking him twenty feet down the hall. She stood and held onto the wall as she rushed back to the room.
Her head was clearing, the headache waning. She pulled Christy out and set her near Christian. She started gently slapping Christian’s face and then began CPR. “Breathe!” she yelled. “Please breathe!” The seconds passed and nothing. She continued with the chest compressions until he gasped and started coughing. Christian was alive!
She kissed his forehead and started to cry as she turned her attention to Christy, who stirred and moaned. “Yes!” She called out, exhilaration filling her. Christian sat up, taking deep breaths. After coughing and throwing up several times, Christy was on her feet, heading up the stairs.
Marisa gaped and Christian shook his head.
“Come on,” she called. “We have a celebration to stop.”
“Yes, we do,” Marisa said. “Yes we do.” A surge of adrenaline rushed through her as she stood up and flew past Christy. Christian did too and took the lead. “I hope we haven’t missed the whole thing.”
“They wouldn’t start the party without the most important guests would they?” Christy called after them, stopping to throw up a couple more times. They reached the top and stopped to wait for her. She waved them on.
They heard cheers and shouts in the distance as they made their way onto the grounds. They still had a good way to go to get around the castle and to the stage where the king, queen, their entire family and Ottavio’s entire family would be sitting. They ran faster as the last coughs left their bodies. Marisa and Christian ran side by side. “I’ll go to the right side of the stage,” Marisa shouted. “You take the left. You can’t be seen with me.”
He nodded and veered off. She couldn’t ignore the fact that they were both in prison garb. How had they even hoped to get near the king? She shoved away the negative thoughts. She had to. She would, otherwise the kingdom would fall. An opening would present itself. She took note of all the stationed guards from a distance and watched as servers moved from the grounds and toward the castle kitchens. She didn’t hesitate, she grabbed the next waiter that came by and knocked him out. As she took the tray from him, she was surprised at the weight of it. She changed into his clothes as quickly as she could. As she dressed, she heard a voice ring out over the sound system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to call your attention to the stage where the royal orator will be reading the contract that helped form this fine country and that brought peace to the land exactly one hundred years ago today.”
“No. No.” She only had minutes to stop them. She fumbled with the buttons as she stood and ran, an empty tray in hand, toward the back of the stage. The speaker continued. She slowed and mixed in with a crowd of servers who were trying to get a glimpse of the stage, the guards allowing them some freedom to do so. She worked her way through that crowd. Only twenty feet and she’d have the stairs to the stage. A guard stood next to them, but she knew that if she pretended to belong, acted as if she was supposed to be there, he would let her pass. But she was wrong. She reached the bottom step, her head down, empty tray out.
“Hold!” the royal guard said. “No one enters the stage now.”
“But-but,” she stammered. “I’m supposed to take the king and queen’s glass before the reading.” She kept her head down, but her body tensed in readiness to do what she had to in order to get on the stage. Her body fired hot, and a fluttery feeling filled her chest.
He repeated himself. She didn’t have time for this. Ottavio was standing now, getting ready to move to the microphone. Her arms rose in the air, tray held firmly in her grasp, and she slammed the heavy tray over the guard’s head as hard as she could. Clang. He fell. The commotion brought the attention of the guards on the stage and two moved toward her. She would not stop. She took the stairs two at a time, reaching the stage before the two guards reached her. She could see the royal orator stepping up to the microphone. “No!” she called out. “Don’t read that!”
Every eye on the stage turned toward her, but her view of the royals was cut off by the arrival of the two guards who grabbed at her. She kept shouting as she dogged the men’s hands and weaved around them. “It’s a forgery!” She yelled out. “We have proof. Ottavio broke into the vault and altered the document!” Two more guards, personal guards apparently because they did not have uniforms on, entered the fray and finally got a firm hold on her and started to drag her down the steps. Not another sound came from the crowds. No one wanted to miss a word she said.
“Stop!” the king’s voice boomed through the silence. “Bring her here. And Orator–you will stop and not read the document at this time.”
The guards turned her around and brought her back up onto the stage. Christian, in his orange prison jumpsuit was standing next to the king, whispering into his ear.
She let out a sigh of relief. A great murmur sounded over the large crowd, and it grew with each of Marisa’s steps toward the king. The captain stood straight, his message delivered.
“Captain, take Princep Ottavio into custody.”
As the captain moved forward, guards from Aligard, loyal to Ottavio, popped up in the audience and tried to come to his aid. At the sight of other armed men, the royal castle guard moved in and stopped their progress. Ottavio pushed the orator out of the way and yelled into the microphone. “This kingdom is a sham. The Fiorellis stole my family’s mines for a hundred years and now that it is time to return them, they pull this on us. No. I demand the agreement be read and enforced.”
Four of the king’s personal guards took Ottavio away, and happy tears rolled down Marisa’s cheeks. She felt ultra-awake and rejuvenated by the adrenaline pumping through her.
The murmuring in the crowd grew as panic began to set in. Then Ace and Jeremy appeared at the bottom of the steps. Four guards blocked their path and Jeremy called out. “We’re here, Captain.”
Marisa’s eyes fell on the two men from Division. They held Tara between them. “Let them through!” the captain yelled to the guards. For a moment, it seemed the guards would not part, but when they did, moments later, four men from the audience tried to push their way through, yelling, “Justice for Aligard. We demand justice for Aligard.” Jeremy clocked one of the raving men with a fist to the jaw, sending him back into the crowd, while Ace grabbed one of the attackers’ legs as he climbed the stairs and threw him off the side. The other two were detained by the guards. Jeremy, Ace, and their prisoner walked up the steps. It appeared that Tara was giving a bit of resistance, but it was futile.
“This girl has evidence for the king,” the captain called out. The three made their way to the podium. Jeremy whispered something in Tara’s ear and then pushed her behind the microphone. The grounds went silent. Christian stepped up beside her and held up the document. “Now Tara. Is this the original document from the royal vault room?”
She glanced at it. “Yes.”
“Did you, on the command of Princeps Ottavio, alter it?”
“Yes.”
Jeremy and Ace let go of Tara and turned her over to Christian. He gave them a friendly nod and then they disappeared into the crowd.
“Captain, your actions are to be commended,” the king said. “The royal family thanks you.”
He bowed. The absurdity of the moment brought a hysterical giggle out of Marisa. Christian looked so ridiculous, bowing so formally in that awful jumpsuit.
The king’s eyes fell onto Marisa. She bowed, knowing she too looked ridiculous in her server’s uniform. She couldn’t help thinking she belonged in the orange jumpsuit.
“Your majesty. I have done all I could to right the wrongs that I have caused. The last thing I can do is to relinquish my freedom, and turn myself over to you.” She held out her hands to the guards, waiting to be cuffed.
Marisa thought she caught a look of extreme frustration on Christy’s face, who she saw sneak onto the very back part of the stage. Marisa was sorry—more sorry than she could ever say—but she knew what she had to do.
“Very well,” the king said, his voice unreadable. “Guards, arrest her—for the crime of treason.”
“No!” Christian whispered.
She wished she could touch him as the guards led her past. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But it’s the right thing.”