Crazy House (Crazy House 1)

He saw other vehicles abandoned by the side of the road. He knew why they hadn’t been reclaimed for scrap—they were warnings. Signs that people had been here and had come to a bad end. Maybe tomorrow his moped would be found lying in the dirt, its radio gone, its chains cut. He would be the warning.

At first he thought the dark shapes ahead were low hills, or maybe shadows thrown by the moonlight. When he was much closer he saw the fence, the gate, the signs: this was a cell. A cell he’d never seen or known about, despite being only fifteen miles away from home. They might as well be on another planet.

Cautiously he drove through the gate. There wasn’t much here—some buildings, a few houses. The whole place looked abandoned, except for the few weak lights that swayed in the wind.

Thunk! A stone came out of nowhere and hit Nathaniel right above his ear. He jerked to a stop, his hand on the sting, and looked around.

Ping! Another small rock hit the body of his moped.

Whirling, Nate peered into the darkness. The main thing he could see was a typical sign that said STRONGER UNITED, showing people holding hands and smiling. But this one had been graffitied—the O had been crossed out and replaced with an A, so it read STRANGER UNITED. And someone had drawn fangs on a woman’s smile, and horns on a man’s head.

“Who’s there?” Nate called, just as another stone plunked against his foot. He saw the tiniest movement beneath the sign, which he raced toward after dropping his moped. A small boy jumped up and darted away, but Nate was taller and faster. He tackled him, and they both went down in a patch of scraggly grass.

“Oof!” The boy’s breath left his lungs in a whoosh, and they started wriggling like fish on a bank.

Nate expertly pinned the kid to the ground, twisting one small arm up behind his back and sitting on his legs.

“Get off me, you stupid ape!”

Nate pulled the arm higher, causing the boy to squeal in pain and kick his feet against the grass.

“Let go of me, asshole!”

“Not till you tell me where I am,” Nate said.

The figure stilled, though Nate could still feel the boy’s quick breathing.

“What do you mean?” the boy said. “You’re in Cell B-97-4280, duh!”

Nate eased up a little, and the boy turned to look at him.

“Hey, you’re not from here, are ya? Huh! Lemme up, schmuck.”

Slowly Nate eased up, and the boy scrambled to a sitting position, rubbing the shoulder joint Nate had stretched. He stared at Nate like he wasn’t sure Nate was human, but was fascinating anyway.

“Where you from?” the kid asked. He looked about ten or elev

en years old.

“Another cell,” Nate said.

“No shit,” the kid said, frowning. “There’s only maybe two hunnert folks here—I thought you was someone else, at first. If you was from here, I’d know it.”

“What does this cell do?”

“Mining,” the boy said. “Mining coal. Then we ship it off.”

That explained why this place looked so dead—at home they were switching over to wind or water power, according to Cell News.

“Okay.” Nate let out a breath, wondering what the hell to do now. This place was no help—he didn’t know any Outsiders from here.

“Yep, mining now,” said the boy. “’Course, we used to have the prison, too.”

Nate frowned, looking at the boy intently. “Prison?”

68

“YEAH, PRISON,” THE BOY SAID. “Hey, you got anything to eat?”