what’s there instead?”
“Nothing.”
“There has to be something—even a hole is ‘something.’”
“It’s not a hole,” I say, “it’s like their face is just … blank. There’re no features, no eyes and nose and mouth.”
Agent Chu passes his hand over his face. “You mean just smooth skin?”
“It’s more like a … like a blur,” I say. “Like a smear.”
“Red?”
“It’s skin-colored,” I say, “not blood or anything like that. Their faces aren’t destroyed, they’re just … not there. That’s why I’m not the killer.”
“When was the last time you saw one of these men,” asks Agent Leonard, then shakes his head slightly, “not counting the one in the hall?”
“There was one in the hospital.”
“Standing up, like the one you saw today?”
“Of course.”
“And before that?”
“There was one that came into the bakery,” I say. “I have a job at Mueller’s Bakery, and there was one that came in there every week.”
Agent Chu writes that down. My pulse quickens, and I try to control my breathing. “Is that important?”
“We just want to get all the information we can,” says Agent Leonard. “Can you tell us the last time you saw the man in the bakery?”
“It was a woman.”
“A faceless woman?” He looks confused.
“She bought bread.”
“That doesn’t sound very ominous,” says Agent Chu. “I thought this was a secret cabal watching your every move, not just people in the neighborhood.”
“She was checking up on me,” I say. I don’t like his tone—he’s not joking with me, he’s serious. He sounds … suspicious. “That was part of how they kept tabs on me.”
“And the last time you saw her?”
“About a month ago, I guess. Right before the two weeks I can’t remember. I’m not exactly sure—it’s hard to keep track of time in here.”
“Can you describe what they were wearing?” asks Agent Leonard.
“The one at the bakery had just regular clothes, I guess. A dress, with like … flowers, I think.” It’s hard to remember. I never got a good look, because I always hid in the back when she came.
“Not a lot of housewives wear dresses these days,” says Agent Chu, writing it down. “If she’s real, she should be easy to find.”
“She’s real,” I insist.
“Did anyone else see her?”
“Of course they did, they sold her bread every week.”
“Did they think it was weird that she didn’t have a face?”
I hadn’t thought of that. Was Mr. Mueller in on it too? Were they paying him to keep quiet, or maybe threatening him? Or could he really not see it?
What if I’m the only one who can?
“Michael?”
I snap back. “What?”
“Did you hear my question?”
“I don’t want to answer that question.”
“Fair enough,” says Agent Leonard. “How about the one in the hall—what was he wearing?”
“A gray suit,” I say. “A hat, like the…” I gesture at my head, struggling to describe the hat. “Kind of shaped like a cowboy hat, I guess, but with a small brim, and really nice. Like a classy gray hat that you’d wear with a suit.”
“A fedora.”
“I guess.”
The two agents looked at each other. Agent Chu stands up. “I’ll see if I can catch him before he leaves the building.”
“You did see him! I knew it!”
“Yes, Michael, he passed us in the hall. He had a face, though.”
Agent Chu left, and Devon went with him to help with the gate. I looked back at Agent Leonard.
“You’ve got to get me out of here. When you find that guy and question him you’ll know—this whole place is part of the Plan, They’re keeping me here against my will, and you’ve got to get me out.”
“Can you describe any other Faceless Men?”
“You’re not listening to me,” I say. “You’ve got to believe me. That man’s probably an administrator or an owner or something—he runs this place, I guarantee it, and as soon as he finds out I blew the whistle on him I am going to
“Nothing.”
“There has to be something—even a hole is ‘something.’”
“It’s not a hole,” I say, “it’s like their face is just … blank. There’re no features, no eyes and nose and mouth.”
Agent Chu passes his hand over his face. “You mean just smooth skin?”
“It’s more like a … like a blur,” I say. “Like a smear.”
“Red?”
“It’s skin-colored,” I say, “not blood or anything like that. Their faces aren’t destroyed, they’re just … not there. That’s why I’m not the killer.”
“When was the last time you saw one of these men,” asks Agent Leonard, then shakes his head slightly, “not counting the one in the hall?”
“There was one in the hospital.”
“Standing up, like the one you saw today?”
“Of course.”
“And before that?”
“There was one that came into the bakery,” I say. “I have a job at Mueller’s Bakery, and there was one that came in there every week.”
Agent Chu writes that down. My pulse quickens, and I try to control my breathing. “Is that important?”
“We just want to get all the information we can,” says Agent Leonard. “Can you tell us the last time you saw the man in the bakery?”
“It was a woman.”
“A faceless woman?” He looks confused.
“She bought bread.”
“That doesn’t sound very ominous,” says Agent Chu. “I thought this was a secret cabal watching your every move, not just people in the neighborhood.”
“She was checking up on me,” I say. I don’t like his tone—he’s not joking with me, he’s serious. He sounds … suspicious. “That was part of how they kept tabs on me.”
“And the last time you saw her?”
“About a month ago, I guess. Right before the two weeks I can’t remember. I’m not exactly sure—it’s hard to keep track of time in here.”
“Can you describe what they were wearing?” asks Agent Leonard.
“The one at the bakery had just regular clothes, I guess. A dress, with like … flowers, I think.” It’s hard to remember. I never got a good look, because I always hid in the back when she came.
“Not a lot of housewives wear dresses these days,” says Agent Chu, writing it down. “If she’s real, she should be easy to find.”
“She’s real,” I insist.
“Did anyone else see her?”
“Of course they did, they sold her bread every week.”
“Did they think it was weird that she didn’t have a face?”
I hadn’t thought of that. Was Mr. Mueller in on it too? Were they paying him to keep quiet, or maybe threatening him? Or could he really not see it?
What if I’m the only one who can?
“Michael?”
I snap back. “What?”
“Did you hear my question?”
“I don’t want to answer that question.”
“Fair enough,” says Agent Leonard. “How about the one in the hall—what was he wearing?”
“A gray suit,” I say. “A hat, like the…” I gesture at my head, struggling to describe the hat. “Kind of shaped like a cowboy hat, I guess, but with a small brim, and really nice. Like a classy gray hat that you’d wear with a suit.”
“A fedora.”
“I guess.”
The two agents looked at each other. Agent Chu stands up. “I’ll see if I can catch him before he leaves the building.”
“You did see him! I knew it!”
“Yes, Michael, he passed us in the hall. He had a face, though.”
Agent Chu left, and Devon went with him to help with the gate. I looked back at Agent Leonard.
“You’ve got to get me out of here. When you find that guy and question him you’ll know—this whole place is part of the Plan, They’re keeping me here against my will, and you’ve got to get me out.”
“Can you describe any other Faceless Men?”
“You’re not listening to me,” I say. “You’ve got to believe me. That man’s probably an administrator or an owner or something—he runs this place, I guarantee it, and as soon as he finds out I blew the whistle on him I am going to
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