world.
Â
âââââ
Â
It was the strangest thing.
Not the fact that Poppy was so easily able to sneak unnoticed into the restricted area.
Not the fact that as soon as she grabbed a red vest off the coat rack within, every employee traveling the hallway nodded at her as if she were one of them, a certified Waxpert.
Not the fact that it was a really
long
hallway. Sheâd been walking for five minutes and still hadnât reached an end, seeing fewer and fewer employees along the way. Doors lined both sides of it, some labeled, some not. Windows revealed dull, corporate-looking rooms where product development meetings no doubt took place, where employees would shout things like
I think it whiffs of dragon fruit!
or
Letâs call this one Banana Bonanza!
or
What does âfreedomâ smell like?
A couple of laboratories, more offices, a break room. Another window revealed a market research panel currently in session, the kind that almost everyone in town had been invited to participate in over the years. An employee would present candles for volunteers to smell while analysts watched via a one-way mirror. At the end, the sniffers would leave with a free candle, a coupon booklet, and the fervent hope that they would be invited back in the future.
No, the strangest thing was that the farther Poppy walked, the less sterile and generic the hallway was. The linoleum floor turned to hardwoodâââand then, farther down,
old
wood, the kind that jutted up in odd places with protruding nail heads. Doors got fewer and farther between, then stopped altogether. The clean white walls faded into dusty yellowed wallpaper, then, like the floor, switched to wood. The air became fusty. She had to be at the rear of the factory, somewhere in those arachnid-looking reaches. By the time Poppy arrived at the end of the hallway, finding only a single wooden door, the only thing she could think to say to herself, in the goofiest voice possible, was, âWell, gee. Knock-knock.â
âCome in,â came a voice on the other side.
Poppy clapped a hand over her mouth. âOh, crap, no, I was
kidding,
â she whispered into her palm.
She glanced around, but there was nothing to glance at. With that single door, the hallway simply . . . ended. She could either go in or begin the long walk back, ending her investigation with as many unanswered questions and unfulfilled revenge fantasies as she had started with.
The silence between Poppy and the concealed answerer gained weight, sagging there between them in the form of a rotting old door. Heat clogged the hallway. Poppyâs skin was sweaty, her mouth dry. If she were a candle, she would be Dehydration Celebration.
Clearly, she would not be going in. She was not an employee. She was not authorized to be there. She had hoped to maybe snoop around undetected, but now? It was time to leave.
And yet out shot her hand, reaching toward the knob. Twisting the knob. Pushing the door open.
The room was dark, but not pitch-black. Muted light entered through windows caked with grime. Dust choked the air, so thick, it was as if a fog had rolled in. The wooden boards creaked as Poppy walked, her feet brushing aside something like dry leaves with each step.
And that was when she spotted the bodies.
People hidden in the foggy shadows. Crowding around her, staring at her, advancing on her. She backed up against the door, but it had closed, trapping her inside. Her sneakers slipped on whatever she was stepping onâââpanicked, she looked down at the floorâââit was blanketed with scrapings of skinâââ
And all the while she felt a scream gathering in the back of her throat, gasping and clawing and begging to be let outâââuntil she couldnât contain it for a second longer.
5
Scream
â GOOD HEAVENS, â SAID THE VOICE THAT HAD BECKONED HER INSIDE. âNow, thereâs a
Â
âââââ
Â
It was the strangest thing.
Not the fact that Poppy was so easily able to sneak unnoticed into the restricted area.
Not the fact that as soon as she grabbed a red vest off the coat rack within, every employee traveling the hallway nodded at her as if she were one of them, a certified Waxpert.
Not the fact that it was a really
long
hallway. Sheâd been walking for five minutes and still hadnât reached an end, seeing fewer and fewer employees along the way. Doors lined both sides of it, some labeled, some not. Windows revealed dull, corporate-looking rooms where product development meetings no doubt took place, where employees would shout things like
I think it whiffs of dragon fruit!
or
Letâs call this one Banana Bonanza!
or
What does âfreedomâ smell like?
A couple of laboratories, more offices, a break room. Another window revealed a market research panel currently in session, the kind that almost everyone in town had been invited to participate in over the years. An employee would present candles for volunteers to smell while analysts watched via a one-way mirror. At the end, the sniffers would leave with a free candle, a coupon booklet, and the fervent hope that they would be invited back in the future.
No, the strangest thing was that the farther Poppy walked, the less sterile and generic the hallway was. The linoleum floor turned to hardwoodâââand then, farther down,
old
wood, the kind that jutted up in odd places with protruding nail heads. Doors got fewer and farther between, then stopped altogether. The clean white walls faded into dusty yellowed wallpaper, then, like the floor, switched to wood. The air became fusty. She had to be at the rear of the factory, somewhere in those arachnid-looking reaches. By the time Poppy arrived at the end of the hallway, finding only a single wooden door, the only thing she could think to say to herself, in the goofiest voice possible, was, âWell, gee. Knock-knock.â
âCome in,â came a voice on the other side.
Poppy clapped a hand over her mouth. âOh, crap, no, I was
kidding,
â she whispered into her palm.
She glanced around, but there was nothing to glance at. With that single door, the hallway simply . . . ended. She could either go in or begin the long walk back, ending her investigation with as many unanswered questions and unfulfilled revenge fantasies as she had started with.
The silence between Poppy and the concealed answerer gained weight, sagging there between them in the form of a rotting old door. Heat clogged the hallway. Poppyâs skin was sweaty, her mouth dry. If she were a candle, she would be Dehydration Celebration.
Clearly, she would not be going in. She was not an employee. She was not authorized to be there. She had hoped to maybe snoop around undetected, but now? It was time to leave.
And yet out shot her hand, reaching toward the knob. Twisting the knob. Pushing the door open.
The room was dark, but not pitch-black. Muted light entered through windows caked with grime. Dust choked the air, so thick, it was as if a fog had rolled in. The wooden boards creaked as Poppy walked, her feet brushing aside something like dry leaves with each step.
And that was when she spotted the bodies.
People hidden in the foggy shadows. Crowding around her, staring at her, advancing on her. She backed up against the door, but it had closed, trapping her inside. Her sneakers slipped on whatever she was stepping onâââpanicked, she looked down at the floorâââit was blanketed with scrapings of skinâââ
And all the while she felt a scream gathering in the back of her throat, gasping and clawing and begging to be let outâââuntil she couldnât contain it for a second longer.
5
Scream
â GOOD HEAVENS, â SAID THE VOICE THAT HAD BECKONED HER INSIDE. âNow, thereâs a
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