Chapter 7

           TheystartedattheBox,whichwasclosedatthemomentdoubledoorsofmetallyingflatontheground,coveredinwhitepaint,fadedandcracked.Thedayhadbrightenedconsiderably,theshadowsstretchingintheoppositedirectionfromwhatThomashadseenyesterday.Hestillhadn’tspottedthesun,butitlookedlikeitwasabouttopopovertheeasternwallatanyminute.

           Albypointeddownatthedoors."Thishere’stheBox.Onceamonth,wegetaNewbielikeyou,neverfails.Onceaweek,wegetsupplies,clothes,somefood.Ain’tneedin’alotprettymuchrunourselvesintheGlade."

           Thomasnodded,hiswholebodyitchingwiththedesiretoaskquestions.Ineedsometapetoputovermymouth,hethought.

           "Wedon’tknowjackabouttheBox,yougetme?"Albycontinued."Whereitcamefrom,howitgetshere,who’sincharge.Theshanksthatsentushereain’ttoldusnothin’.Wegotalltheelectricityweneed,growandraisemostofourfood,getclothesandsuch.TriedtosendaslintheadGreeniebackintheBoxonetimethingwouldn’tmovetillwetookhimout."

           ThomaswonderedwhatlayunderthedoorswhentheBoxwasn’tthere,butheldhistongue.Hefeltsuchamixtureofemotionscuriosity,frustration,wonderalllacedwiththelingeringhorrorofseeingtheGrieverthatmorning.

           Albykepttalking,neverbotheringtolookThomasintheeye."Glade’scutintofoursections."Hehelduphisfingersashecountedoffthenextfourwords."Gardens,BloodHouse,Homestead,Deadheads.

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