Chapter 79

Before I can stop myself, I jump off the

bunk, press my face against the bars, try to see down the empty

corridor. “Hey!” I yell, and my voice rings off the steel walls.

“Hey! I need to talk to somebody!”

No answer. Just my own voice, echoing away.

Can they even hear me? I doubt it. If Dylan’s down another corridor

and he cried himself hoarse and I didn’t hear a breath of it,

chances are I’m just wasting my time. I try to rattle the bars but

they don’t budge, they’re set too deep into the floor and ceiling.

Then I try to run the knife across them, like I’ve seen criminals

do in the old holovids from Earth, but the thin blade just plinks

over the steel, doesn’t make any real sound at all. Anger makes me

cry out again, “Hey!” Top of my lungs, long and drawn out until I

run out of breath and my voice warbles off and still nothing. No

one hears me. No one cares.

For a few frantic moments I wave my arms at

the corner where the camera is—maybe someone in the guardroom will