"Don't take any floor," someone behind us said.
We turned and saw Marjorie staring at us. Although she looked just as ill as when I'd first helped her into the boat, at least she was standing, so the medicine had to be helping a little.
"Don't take any room, on any floor," she repeated. "I am warning you. If you want to survive this place, do not go to the old prison."
Questions immediately rushed through my mind, so many that I didn't know where to start.
Why shouldn't we stay in the prison? Where else were we supposed to live?
Would the wardens allow us to stay elsewhere? I doubted that.
I wondered again what was wrong with the prison. Were there rats the size of pigs but with larger teeth? Big gaping holes in the floor? Or too much disease, crowded into one place?
And most important, did Marjorie know a better way to survive?
In cases like this, Weevil had a talent for summarizing. He whispered, "Tell us everything."
Marjorie motioned us away from the prison and over to a clearing past the food tent. Then we stood facing north. Marjorie said, "As soon as I got here yesterday, I started asking around, to see if anyone knew a place to live other than the prison. I met a woman at suppertime, and I'll tell you what she told me. There's no way to go south on this island. Past the infirmary is a tall fence that used to keep the prison inmates trapped here."
"I know about that," I said. "I saw it last night."
"You saw that from the cage?" Marjorie asked. "I didn't think you were up that high."
Weevil looked like he wanted to give me a kick right then, just to stop me from saying anything more. However, Marjorie was clearly breaking rules by telling us her story. She'd hardly turn us in for hinting that we had already broken rules too.
Marjorie shrugged and continued. "The shoreline to the north is harsh, with sharp rocks and a lot of wind. But there is also a cave, almost impossible to see until you're right on top of it. If we go inside deeply enough, then the cave walls will protect us from the winds and we can even build a fire for warmth. The smoke from the fire simply gets sucked out to sea. The caves do flood every afternoon and evening, but we're working during the day and eating in the evening, so it's easy to miss those waters. When I went to the caves, I found other people living there too. They are much healthier than those in the prison. Some claim they've even been cured. Maybe it's the salt water, or maybe the prison's air is too infested with the Scourge, but the caves are your best chance to survive."
"The wardens don't mind?" I asked.
"The wardens don't know, and we want to keep it that way. We have to be careful coming and going, and we do as we're told so that we never draw their attention."
"Why not?" Weevil asked.
Marjorie nodded in the direction of the infirmary. "Get the attention of the wardens, and you're likely to disappear from the Colony. They say only the sickest people go into the infirmary, the ones that need extra care, but from what I saw yesterday, that isn't always true."
"And nobody comes out again," I said. "I heard that too."
This time, Weevil did give me a light kick, which wasn't fair. He was the one who had told me that.
"Do your chores for the day and then have your supper," she said. "When it starts to get dark, find a way to casually slip away from the group. But be careful, because if you're caught, the cave dwellers will be a bigger problem to you than the wardens could ever be. They were very clear about that when I met them last night. They will not accept mistakes that risk giving away their secret."
Weevil and I nodded, and then we all headed back toward the Colony square. As we walked, I said to Weevil, "What is your assigned job?"
"I'm a gatherer," he said. "They know River People are good with herbs and plants, so I'm assigned to find some of the ingredients they use in making the medicines. Most of them are familiar, but there's one I don't know--spindlewill--so it'll be tricky to find it at first. But I'm glad to have the job. The more ingredients I find, the more medicine they can make. I'm hoping to get access to where it's made so you can have some."
I liked that idea. Though I was feeling better at the moment, that was really only in comparison to the fact that death had me in its clutches last night. As long as nothing got worse, I could manage this. Then I could get to the caves and figure out what those who claimed to be healthy were doing. I wished I had my medicine back.
"Come with me," Marjorie said. "I was assigned to work in the laundry too, though I do the washing. You'll be collecting it."
Weevil went in one direction, and Marjorie and I went toward the prison again. "Collect any dirty laundry from the prison rooms," she said. "A large bin should be just inside the prison's entryway, on the main floor. You'll carry the linens down from the upper floors and load them into the bin, then roll it outside for us to wash."
"Sounds like fun," I said, in a tone that suggested this job would be anything but fun.
Marjorie missed the sarcasm. "Be careful in the rooms with those too sick to leave their beds. Their linens are sure to be infested, and that can't be healthy for you."
She left me there, to enter the prison on my own. Staring at the entrance, I fought the urge to run. It felt like walking into a nightmare, dark and full of unexpected monsters that would leave a person shaking in their bed. Perhaps it wouldn't actually be that bad, nor did I believe in monsters. Or at least, I was in serious doubt of their existence. But in the moment, that's how it felt.
I took one step in, clutching at the door's frame as a wave of nausea flooded over me. Right inside the door was the collecting bin, large enough to hold a grown man, though that was hardly its purpose. As I looked around, I realized this was as far into the prison as I ever wanted to go.