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Kirie Pedersen

An emerald-green pyramid rises above Directora’s office at the center of the complex. The windows are darkened. Heath sees a shrouded figure moving around inside. She waited three weeks before she met him. As they stand outside her office door, Flores lets him know he should not speak. Her desk spans the entire room, separating her from them. She wears a bizarre two-piece outfit with a gold faux fur collar. Heath does not mention the bodies that show up outside his apartment or in the nearby river.
    Everyone here has an escape plan.

* * *

    “Do you want to make out?”
    Heath’s sister Janet was twelve, two years younger than Heath. Heath’s attic room had a single, tiny window. One wall held a plywood base on which Heath constructed mountains, trees, houses, and roads. His model cars were lined up along one end in perfect precision.
    “My friends and I practice all the time,” Janet said.
    “I once did something very terrible.”

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