The Annihilation of Foreverland

Danny’s guts. A round old man was at the front doors. He stepped aside and two old men came out to help Parker inside. The round old man kept Danny and Zin frozen in place with a baggy-eyed stare.
    “Danny Boy?” Mr. Jones came out. “What are you doing here, son?”
    The gentle, grandfatherly look that distinguished Mr. Jones from all the other old men quickly darkened. Danny experienced another familiar feeling.
    Getting caught.

24
    Danny lifted the desk onto his bed and sat on top of it. It was mid-day and most people were in the game room or the cafeteria. Only three guys were in the Yard playing catch with a long-distance disc.
    Danny hadn’t been outside in three days.
    Mr. Jones put him on room-restriction for two days and threatened to send him to the Director if he got to misbehaving like that again. None of that bothered Danny. To prove it, he volunteered to stay in his room a third day. Who knows, maybe he’d stay there until they dragged him to the Haystack for the third round.
    He spent the day staring at a spot on the ceiling and counting his breath, practicing his focus like Zin taught him. You’ll need it to control yourself when you’re inside the needle. Find your point of existence and breathe into it .
    There were a dozen old men that were eventually lured out of the Mansion when they got caught. When Mr. Jones got the full story – how they hijacked the golf cart and conspired to break inside – his face turned dark red . A jagged vein throbbed on his right temple. Danny thought it might wriggle out and explode.
    Zin’s Investor, Mr. Stevens, didn’t change color. He arrived ten minutes later and calmly took Zin aside while Mr. Jones ushered Danny down the steps with a stranglehold on his arm. Anger transformed his feeble task-master into a thundering disciplinarian. They went to the dormitory on the very same cart that Danny swiped.
    “You love trouble, Danny Boy,” he said. “You have to have self-control. Chaos leads to anarchy, my boy. It’ll lead you down the wrong path. It led you here.”
    Thought I was here for healing.
    Mr. Jones strangled the steering wheel. “There are much worse places than here, I promise. You go back to trouble and you’ll find out.”
    Mr. Jones was telling Danny more than he should’ve and Danny knew it. Most thirteen year old boys would’ve been reduced to a trembling mess under the glare of those father figures, but not Danny. It was thrilling. And the more Mr. Jones frowned – the more he shook his finger – the more fun Danny was having. He was forced to look away before he began laughing. Mr. Jones thought it was because he felt shame and, out of compassion, left the boy alone. He was hopeful Danny was punishing himself and that maybe, just maybe, he was mentoring this boy to a better life.
    But authority doesn’t scare me, Mr. Jones.
    And neither did Sid.
    Self-preservation should’ve instilled some fear in him since all the above could cause a great deal of pain. Maybe worse. Danny knew he was good with computers, that perhaps he’d been arrested for hacking a federal agency, and that he loved trouble. It was a start.
    He also knew something else: Parker was alive and healthy. Maybe a little confused but, besides the creepy haircut, he looked good. That ended speculation that the old men were using them for firewood. But Parker didn’t look excited to help them out.
    Something had changed.
    Danny had a future date with the Director, he was sure of it. And it might be sooner than later if he didn’t curb his behavior and he had no plans to do that. He was just starting to flex his muscles and he liked it.
    The boys had stopped throwing the disc and headed inside. Someone else was crossing the Yard.
    Reed finally left his room.
    Danny’s self-imposed restriction came to an end.

25
    Reed felt smaller, frailer. Vulnerable.
    I’m breaking.
    Reed stayed in the room because he didn’t trust himself. He craved the sun’s warmth but the ocean would be so near. If he went to the beach, all he’d have to do was step into the water and let the undertow sweep him out. It was moments like this – moments that revealed cracks in his will – that made him ask the question.
    Why?
    Why keep going?
    Sleep came in short bursts. His body continuously ached. Dreams were fitful. He had delusions of falling, of shattering, of dying. He dreamed of drowning, over and over and over. Sometimes waking up gulping air. He didn’t find a restful