Academic Assassins by Clay McLeod Chapman Page B

scrambled back onto my feet.
    What do I do now?
    Quick: Assess your surroundings.
    I was in a hallway. Concrete floors. No windows. Just one slender corridor that lead to a different end of the building.
    Where to now?
    The yellow-painted line reached toward another set of double doors.
    That way!
    My ankle stung. I couldn’t put too much weight on my foot without it ringing in pain, but then I heard the low-pitched buzz of the door unlocking behind me.
    Hurry!
    I hobbled down the hall as Grayson rushed after.
    What do I do what do I do what do I do?
    No time to think twice. I plowed through the next set of doors.
    There were fifty girls. Maybe more. All wearing the same orange creamsicle uniform, all wearing dog collars. Each barricaded within her own Plexiglas cavity.
    Welcome to the Hive.
    Riiiiiing
…
    The bell pummeled my eardrums. Each Plexiglas door swiftly slid open, releasing the girls into the gallery. They stepped out from their pods, eyes locking onto me.
    Suddenly I was surrounded by girls. Lots and lots of girls. They stared blankly back at me, bewildered by the sight of a—
    â€œBoy in the Hive!” One pointed an accusing finger at me.
    Before long, several others joined in—“Boy in the Hive! Boy in the Hive!”
    I stepped back, toward the door.
    I nearly collided with Nailbiter, standing behind me. She clutched the collar of my shirt. All I could focus on were her fingers, gnawed raw.
    â€œHelp me,” she said. “Please! They are going to take me to—”
    Her words were suddenly overwhelmed by the off-key chanting swelling up from all around—
“Boy in the Hive! Boy in the Hive! Boy in the Hive!”
    Nailbiter tried again. “They’re taking me to the Black—”
    A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, yanking me away.
    â€œBoy in the Hive!”
    Several ants each took an arm and tugged me in separate directions. I looked down at my feet and found some had grabbed my ankles, like I was getting drawn and quartered. They were clamoring all
around me, taking hold of my body and lifting me off of the floor. They hoisted me over their heads, passing me from one set of hands to the next until I bodysurfed through the ward. An image of an
actual ant colony carrying a scrap of food back to their queen ant popped into my head.
    I saw Grayson rush in and halt at the door, only to lean back and clap along.
    â€œBoy in the Hive! Boy in the Hive! Boy in the Hive!”
    My body shuttled into the air, quickly landing back in the ants’ hands. They flung me up again—only this time, there were no hands to catch me. Seemingly all at once, every last ant
took a step back, leaving me to splat across the concrete floor.
    I landed on my butt, crushing my coccyx.
    My brain couldn’t rally the rest of my body to pick itself up from the floor. I rolled around on my back until I realized a ring of ants were staring down at me.
    One girl leaned forward, her hair held up by pigtails.
    How come this girl got to keep her hair? I wondered.
    â€œNo boys allowed in the Hive. You stick to your side of the building, we’ll stick to ours—got that?”
    Loud and clear.

S o that escape plan hadn’t worked quite as well as I had hoped.
    Back to Program Director’s office. I sat before Merridew’s desk, alone. It felt like this was a test. Being here—unsupervised. Make one false move and I’d be sent to the
gulag.
    Are there cameras watching me right now?
    I noticed a framed black-and-white photograph of young cadets hanging on the wall. Each kid carried a rifle. Standing just off to the side was a much younger Merridew, chin lifted, head held
high, proudly presenting her battalion of soldiers-in-training. These kids couldn’t have been much older than me, but the rabid glint in their eyes made them look as if they had graduated to
the battlefield, ready for war.
    I recognized one of those cadets.
Is that Grayson grinning