The Annihilation of Foreverland

the Mansion when he picked up the first rock. He didn’t know why, but then he picked up another. He held the bottom of his shirt and cradled them like a hammock.
    He launched the first one as he arrived at the bottom step. A direct hit, head-high. It went bang off the metal door like a gunshot. The stone skipped down the steps. He grabbed another one from his stash, yearning to hear that satisfaction again. He reached back— Felt it ripped from his hand.
    “What the hell you doing?” Zin tossed the rock into the trees. “You want to get killed?”
    “They’re already doing that, Zin.”
    Zin knocked his hand off his shirt and the cache of stones crashed on the bottom step. He grabbed Danny by the shirt. “Come on, before someone comes out.”
    He let Zin drag him a couple steps and pulled. “No.”
    The second rock sunk a dent as deep as the first and not more than six inches to the left. He was reaching for a third when Zin knocked him down.
    “I’m not letting you commit suicide.”
    Zin was on his knees, chucking the rocks into the underbrush. They were going to get caught, but two rocks looked a lot different if there wasn’t ten more waiting to be fired. He had just enough time to grab the two that rebounded off the door. The last one rolled out of sight just as the door opened.
    The Director appeared in the doorway, wearing some kind of desert scouting outfit. His left hand rested on the hilt of a small sword. A fat old man pushed past him, followed by more.
    “JUST KILL HIM!” Danny screamed. “He’s not going to take the needle, so just go ahead and kill him, already! Put us all out of misery!”
    Danny started up the steps. Zin caught him on the third one. He wasn’t going to slip away again.
    “I know what you’re doing to us,” Danny shouted. “You’re a bunch of fat, selfish bastards!”
    “What are you doing?” Zin hissed in his ear.
    “If you don’t want to just kill us, I will! I’ll throw all of the boys over the cliffs.” Danny jabbed at them. “We’re all going over, anyway. We’ll do it on our own!”
    “DANNY BOY!” Mr. Jones stumbled down the steps. “Stop this foolishness, right this second. What has gotten into you?”
    Another ten Investors were out the door, exchanging knowing glances. The Director’s steely gaze never wavered.
    “I’ll tell you what got into me, go see Reed. Mr. Smith knows, he’s doing it to him. He’s breaking him. He doesn’t want to take the needle, all right? Are you so desperate that you’re going to kill him slowly for it?”
    “He’s just trying to help him, Danny Boy.” Mr. Jones helped Zin restrain him. “You don’t understand what’s happening, you must trust us.”
    “Trust you?” Danny turned on Mr. Jones. Constantino was on the tip of his tongue. Acquired, too. He was about to spit them like darts. Had he, it would’ve changed everything. The Investors would’ve known their privacy had been breached. They would’ve condemned the Director without question. The program would have failed. Nobody would escape, ever.
    But the Director’s hand gently fell on Danny’s shoulder.
    “It’s all right, son,” he said.
    Danny stopped struggling. Everyone said son. But the Director said it differently. It wasn’t an expression, it meant something. And it fell quietly on Danny.
    “Mr. Jones.” The Director turned to him. “Let me have a word with Danny Boy.”
    All three of them – Zin, Mr. Jones and the Director – kept their hands on him, slowly letting go. Danny stared at the Director. He wanted to hate him, but there was calm in his expression.
    “Gentlemen.” The Director turned to the crowd inside the doorway. “We will proceed as usual. Remember why we’ve come together.”
    He turned to Danny.
    “We’re here to help,” he said to the others. “Let’s remember that.”
    No one moved.
    The program teetered on that moment.
    And then the Director led Danny away from the Mansion.
    A man doesn’t achieve that level of power without know ing how to handle pressure.

50
    It was a narrow path. An overgrown one.
    Danny trampled on leaves and fronds sheared cleanly by the Director’s blade. The Director didn’t turn around when Danny caught up to him. He was grabbing with the left hand and swinging the machete with the right. The jungle bent to his will as they made their way through it.
    Sweat drenched the back of his shirt. Danny could hear his breathing between each swing. When they reach a small