If that were blood on the floor, what was on the door handle? He looked down at his hand and a shiver raced through his body. The palm and fingers of his hand were stained with drying blood. He wiped them on his jeans, his feet moving him forward of their own accord as he lurched away from the door. It swung and slammed shut behind him. He flinched, hoping nobody (or no thing) had heard it.
A large thump made him nearly leap out of his shoes, and he let out a tiny shriek before he could bite it back. It came from the room next to his. It could be someone working late, maybe somebody repairing something.
The thumps turned to knocks, and the knocking to pounding. He slowly backed away from the door until he bumped into the wall on the opposite side. He didn’t know which way to run. Did it matter?
“Who’s out there?” came a muffled voice beyond the door, “Let me out!” The voice did not belong to an adult, but a kid.
Josh ran to the door and pressed his ear against it. “Hello? Are you a prisoner too?”
“Hey! Yes! Open the door!”
Josh grabbed the handle and shook it, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked. I can’t open it!”
“You’ve got to get me out of here,” the kid hollered back, “Find the keys!”
Where would they be? Why hadn’t they left this kid’s door unlocked too? He hurried down the hallway, trying each door in turn. They were all locked. He hesitated, if he delayed too long, someone was bound to find him, these places always had security. He came to the end of the hallway to a door with an opaque glass window. Though it had no sign, it looked important. As luck would have it the handle turned easily, revealing a large office.
This room had a large window behind it, and the lights of downtown Boise shown through, providing enough illumination to see what he was doing. Josh breathed a sigh of relief, morning hadn’t come yet. He pulled out the drawers, digging through them one by one.
The first one was full of the usual adult medications. He recognized them from his parents’ medicine cabinet. They had to take pills for their weight, to be able to digest wheat and dairy, antidepressants (his mother took five different kinds), anti-anxiety, antipsychotics, and the optional one-a-day multivitamin. As long as they took those every day, people stayed young and healthy.
The others were filled with papers, but the one in the middle had pencils, paperclips and such, and most importantly, keys. There were dozens of them, some loose, some on key rings. He stuffed his pockets with every one he could find and rushed back.
“I’ve got keys,” he said intently, “I’ll get you out.”
“Just hurry!”
He tried them one by one, dropping them when they failed. About twenty keys later, he found success. “Got it!” he cried a bit too loudly. He dumped the rest of the keys from his pocket and threw open the door to come face to face with another boy, much like himself.
“Thanks,” The other kid said, “Let’s get out of here!” He had a ragged head of dark hair, and looked like he hadn’t had a haircut for some time. He stood about the same height, and he guessed that they must’ve been about the same age.
“Which way?” he asked.
“Look for exit signs!”
Josh followed the new kid down the hallway. Though the other kid ran, he tried to follow him more slowly. He couldn’t risk blacking out. If that happened now, it would be over.
The other kid turned around as he reached a door with a large red exit sign. “You coming?”
“Yes, wait for me.”
“Hurry up!”
He reached the door, but when he went to push it open, the kid stopped him. “When we push on the handle,” he warned, “An alarm is going to sound. You’re going to have to run.”
“I can’t,” Josh said, “I’ll shut down.”
The other kid raised an eyebrow. “You broke or something?”
“No, I’m just not working right.”
“You’ve got blood on your cheek. Are you hurt?”
Josh reached up and touched his face. He stared at the red smudge on his fingertips. He shuddered. “It was in my room!”
“What was?”
“The monster.”
“Monster? What are you talking about?”
Josh showed him the blood on his fingers. “The monster! Didn’t you see the blood back there? They brought it back from the mountains. It’s after me. It must’ve touched me.”
“Dude, you’re freaking me out! Something is seriously wrong with you. We’ve got to reach the alley across the street. If someone comes after us, I’m running. Try and keep up. Once we get a block or two away we should be safe.”
“All right.”
“Wait. What’s that?” The kid looked over Josh’s shoulder. “Do you hear it? Someone’s coming. Get ready to run!”
Josh looked back to see what appeared to be a security guard round the corner. He didn’t walk quite right, as if his legs weren’t cooperating. He didn’t need a closer look, though he couldn’t see the face he knew what it was. “That’s not a guard!”
“Of course it is, run!” The kid threw open the door, and a piercing alarm broke the silence. With all worries of blacking out forgotten, he ran right on the other kid’s heels.
When they reached the other side of the street, the other boy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows. “Wait!” he whispered, “Security!”
“I told you that’s not security,” Josh said. “That’s the monster.”
“Why’s it dressed like security? You think they’re giving monsters jobs?”
“I don’t know. I think it still see us.”
“No way, we’re hidden. Come on.” They snuck down the alley, moving more cautiously. Soon they reached a residential neighborhood and slipped into a backyard to wait for morning. They sat in silence, listening to the sound of sirens and the sound of distant traffic.
“Thanks again,” said the kid, “For saving me. I thought I was a goner!”
“Me too,” Josh replied, “And you’re welcome. Are you defective too?”
“Me? No way! I’m state of the art.”
“Then why were you there?”
“Not every kid that ends up at Kidsmith is defective. They also bring in runaways. That’s what I am. I’m not licensed to any adult. They can’t have homeless kids roaming the street, so they bring them in for reclamation. They do a memory wipe, do some touch-ups, and sell us again.”
“You’re homeless?” he asked, “How’d you lose your parents?”
“My owners used to knock me around. I decided to leave while I could still walk. I eventually learned ways to fix myself. I’m a ‘mod’.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I got rid of the crap parts Kidsmith put in me and replaced it with good stuff. Kids going defective are nothing new. I however, will last forever.”
“I want to be a ‘mod’,” Josh said, “How do you do it?”
“I can’t do it, it takes someone that knows children.”
“But it would fix me, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe,” the kid replied with a shrug, “Maybe not. It depends what’s all wrong with you. What is wrong with you, anyway? Your head whistles. Does that make you see monsters?”
“I was in an accident. I’ve got damaged parts.”
“Maybe you just need a parts replacement.”
“So can you help me?” Josh asked, “Can you show me where you got modded?”
“I guess so. But there’s a cost, and it’s not always money.”
The sun rose over the horizon turning the houses from dark silhouettes into distinct buildings. Somewhere nearby a dog started barking and wouldn’t quit. Traffic began to increase as adults began to filter their way to their jobs.