The Girl Who Dared to Think Bella Forrest (best classic literature txt) 📖

“It’s not—not yet, anyway. The poison is coming from somewhere up in here.” She patted the ceiling tile that the pipe she was working on came through.

“Right. But explain to me how opening it up won’t expose us to the toxin?”

Zoe stopped, clearly thinking about it, then shook her head. “Excellent point, but I misspoke. It comes through here. Hold on.”

She turned the wrench, and the pipe popped free of the joint holding it in place, disconnecting it from the ceiling. I expected water or something, but it was bone dry. Zoe went to work on the ceiling grate overhead next, and I took it from her and balanced it on one of the electrical boxes. If it fell I could get it quickly, but for now, I needed my hands free to help Zoe.

I turned back and saw that she was now standing on the pipe, bent at the waist and fiddling around in the space between the floor above and the grated ceiling in here. I heard tools clattering and banging, culminating in a loud “Aha!”

She withdrew from the space, her hands and face smudged black with dirt, holding a silver valve the size of my fist. “This is something we can work with,” she said, dropping back down onto the tank and pulling out a screwdriver.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to study the design.

“It’s a directional valve,” she said as she set the screwdriver against it. “It is automatically controlled, and supposed to change between hot and cold, like in a shower. However, it isn’t where it’s supposed to be. I followed the two lines connected to it and identified one that funnels the water, and, presumably, one that funnels the toxin.”

I frowned. “Okay, so let me get this straight—there’s a line for water and a line for the poison. This valve controls which one does what?”

“Kind of. It’s like how you can adjust the ratio of cold and hot water in your shower. Same thing here, but it’s been modified to only have two positions—open and closed. I’m guessing it was designed to look like this to be overlooked by anyone making repairs. It’s a common enough valve to be overlooked. Hiding in plain sight.” There was a click, and Zoe smiled.

“And just like that, Zoe saves the day. I’ve adjusted it so that the opening sits farther back, so that when the button hits, it will still block whatever it is they are dumping in there from getting in.”

“Really?” That sounded too easy.

Zoe nodded and stood up again, presumably to put the part back in. She fiddled around for a few more minutes and then lowered herself back down, her hands filled with tools and more smudges than before. She wiped some sweat forming on her forehead, leaving behind a black streak, and held out her hand for the grate. I handed it to her, and she slipped it over the pipe and began reattaching it to the ceiling.

“So, there is one problem,” she said as she worked, and I nodded. Of course it couldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.

“What?”

“I had to break it to fix it. So anyone they try to gas in that room after this is also going to survive.”

“Good,” I said, and she nodded.

“I agree, but it’s only a matter of time before they call someone in to take a look at it. Once they do, they’ll find the valve and see that it is damaged.”

“Can’t we just come back here and fix it afterward?” I asked, but Zoe shook her head.

“The entire part needs to be replaced, and as a Roe, I can’t requisition parts.” She looked at me, her eyes wide. “Look, they’ll examine it, and they’ll either think it’s a manufacturing problem, or...” She trailed off, but I didn’t need her to finish. When they found the part, they might figure out it had been tampered with.

“Is there any chance we can—”

I was cut off by a lash spinning up past my ear and connecting to a pipe above me with a flash of blue. A heavyset form twisted up through the air and jerked to a halt next to me, bobbing on the line. I looked over and stared into Gerome’s hard, flat eyes.

“Gerome,” I said, feeling sweat break out on the back of my neck. How had he known we were down here? Was this room monitored? Oh, God, could he have been listening in?

“Squire,” he said with a nod. Then he looked to Zoe. His expression twisted slightly when he saw her number, but he held his derision at bay. “Roe.”

Zoe had grown pale, but she managed a little wave before turning back to the ceiling.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He gave me a sharp look, his eyes flicking over to Zoe and then back to me in silent warning, and I got the message: she wasn’t supposed to know about the prisoners above, and what was being done to them. I held on to that, comforted by it, as it meant he had no idea what we were up to. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t figure it out. With my outburst earlier... and now we were down here... it was too soon. He was going to figure out we were doing something to the cell, unless I was the very essence of calm and collected, and gave him nothing to doubt.

“I was... concerned about you after the vein of our last conversation,” he stated flatly. “And I felt like I owed you a bit of an apology. You were right to stop me when you did.”

An apology? From Gerome? I looked over at him and saw kindness there, but it was hard to reconcile the kindness with the man who killed people, and I looked away. “Thank you,” I said, summoning up the neutral face and voice needed to deal with him.

“Imagine my surprise when I found out from the Eyes that you