by Amy Hale
The three men took their places in the vehicle with George near the back, so he could talk to her.
She closed her eyes as he talked about the facility and how well everyone was doing there. Before long, she drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of her difficult morning taking over. She dreamed of Colt.
His greyish-blue eyes bored into hers as he pulled her close. She smiled and raised her hand to his face. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her. When she opened her eyes, it wasn’t Colt kissing her, but some strange man she’d never seen before.
She screamed.
George woke her up. They had pulled over on the shoulder of the highway, and the driver, Dennis, appeared terrified. She looked around and realized her dream had caused a minor disturbance inside the van. Papers previously filed in a box were now scattered around the van as if a large fan had been turned on in the interior of the vehicle.
She sat up. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you all. It was just a bad dream.”
George gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t think another thing about it.” He pulled a water bottle out of the cooler next to her. “Here, drink up. This should help.”
She nodded and twisted off the cap before taking a couple of gulps and replacing the lid. She started to hand it back to him, but he insisted she keep it.
“You probably need to rehydrate. It’s been a rough day, and you haven’t eaten much. You should at least drink plenty of water, okay?”
She took the cap back off and drank several more swallows, realizing she really was pretty thirsty. She again replaced the cap and set the bottle in a nearby cup holder.
Dennis pulled back into traffic, and she looked around at the mess she’d inadvertently made.
“Sheesh. I’m so sorry about the mess. Let me help you clean it up,” she said.
Jane started reaching for some papers, but George was quick to snatch them away. She didn’t understand the secrecy, but she figured everyone had a right to privacy—that was, until she found a sheet with the name George Daniels on it, complete with his stats and a photo. It looked nothing like the man sitting before her. Before he was able to grab that one, she saw a sentence that screamed in her mind over and over.
DEATH FROM GUNSHOT WOUND.
Her eyes widened as she looked at the man pretending to be her father, her fear mounting rapidly.
He smirked at her. “Ah, well, it was a good run while it lasted.”
She became angry and started to transfer that anger to her fingers, but the dangerous dark swirls wouldn’t come to mind. She couldn’t muster the energy to think, and suddenly, she was very, very tired.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “You put something in my water.”
George laughed. “Didn’t your mommy and daddy ever teach you not to take food from strangers?” He covered his mouth in mock surprise. “Oops! I forgot. Your mommy and daddy weren’t around to teach you much of anything.”
Jane did her best to glare at him, but it was taking all her effort to keep her eyes open. Before she knew it, darkness had taken over, and she was alone in her mind. She was conscious, yet she wasn’t. She seemed to be trapped in the inky blackness, and she was powerless.
DECEIT MADE PLAIN AND FOES EXPOSED,
I STRUGGLE WITH HER FACE.
Colt sat in his usual spot at The Rusty Hinge. He’d been trying to drown his sorrows in whatever alcohol James poured for him.
The gaping hole left by Jane was more than he knew how to bear. She’d chosen to leave. He wanted to understand her position. He wanted to believe she’d come back to him someday. But his heart wouldn’t allow even the tiniest bit of hope to push through.
His dad had warned him about women. Colt felt the betrayal of his mom’s absence almost as much as his father had.
With Jane, there was no way to even compare the two. She’d not only left him alone, but it was also as if she’d ripped his very soul from his body. He tried to concentrate on everything but Jane, yet she was all he would see when he closed his eyes.
Colt rubbed his temples. The vision of her standing before him that morning with tears falling on her beautiful cheeks made him angry with himself. He knew he had been too harsh. He should have stopped complaining and let her explain. He hadn’t even gotten a kiss good-bye. He would likely never see her again. His final memories should have been of her in his arms. Maybe if he’d given her a chance, if he’d taken the time to touch her again and show her his love, she would have chosen him over her father.
He looked up at James. “Another beer.”
James shook his head. “You’ve had more than enough, Colt. You need to go home and sleep it off. I’ll call you a cab.”
Colt reached across the bar and grabbed James by the shirt. “I’m not going home!”
James raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Fine. But I’m cutting you off. I don’t need you dying of alcohol poisoning in my bar.”
Colt released him and sat back on his stool.
He couldn’t go home. Jane wasn’t there, so there was no reason to go back—ever. He continued to stare into his empty glass. He knew it wouldn’t have been fair to make her choose between him and her family, but she hadn’t given him any say in the matter. She was so damn stubborn.
He picked up a bottle cap from the bar and absentmindedly spun it. “I’m such an ass.”
“Aw, I don’t know about that, Colt. You have a cute one though.”
He looked up to find a short blonde bombshell standing next to him. She was leaning on the bar, her cleavage bared for all the world to see.
She gave him a sultry smile.
He struggled to remember her name. “Nancy, right?”
She practically purred in his ear, “I knew you couldn’t forget me. That one wild night last summer was more than memorable.” She ran a carefully manicured finger down the length of his arm.
In the past, he would have jumped at the opportunity to spend the night with a woman like her. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm.
He didn’t reply.
She pouted. “You do remember our night, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
She snuggled up close, draping one arm around his shoulders. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere private? I’d be happy to give you an encore performance.” She nipped at his ear, leaving lipstick behind.
He looked at her for a moment and then frowned. Why was he sitting here, moping like a child, when he could be having amazing sex with this more than willing woman?
Colt threw money on the counter and stood up. “What the hell. Let’s go.”
She smiled and took his hand. They walked out the door, and she pushed him, guiding him to the side of the building. Then, she backed him against the wall and kissed him. He kissed back, but it felt off. Pushing the thought away, he started to let his hands roam, but it was all wrong. Instead of getting excited, he was disgusted.
He saw Jane everywhere and in everything. This was no different.
Nancy continued to kiss him and started running her hand down to his jeans, cupping him.
He couldn’t take it anymore and pushed her away. “I can’t.”
“What? What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I just can’t.” His mind screamed at her, You aren’t her! I only want her! He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry.” Then, he walked away from her.
Nancy stood behind him, stunned. When it hit her that he’d rejected her, she ran at him, her fists clenched. “How dare you, Colt Henderson! You never think of anyone but yourself!”
He stopped and turned to look at her. “No. For once, I’m thinking of someone else, and despite all that’s happened, she deserves better than this from me.”
Her anger grew. “Another woman? You’re turning me down for someone else? There are no strings here, Colt. It’s just you and me, having a lot of fun. Since when do you refuse a one-night stand?” Her
eyes flashed as she yelled at him.
He gave her a sad smile. “Since I fell in love.” He turned around once more and made his way to his motorcycle.
Nancy straightened her clothes and stomped back into the bar, nearly running over Peter Grant as he exited. He dodged out of her way and shook his head at her theatrics.
Seeing Colt, Peter ran toward him. “Colt! I must speak with you!”
Colt turned to see the reporter rushing toward him. His mood was surly, and his first thought was to punch Peter’s lights out.
Peter stopped just short of Colt’s reach and put his hands out in front of him. “Please, you need to listen. I know you’re mad at me, but I’ve dropped the story.”
Colt folded his arms in front of him. “Good. Then, we don’t need to talk.”
He turned to sit on his bike when Peter grabbed his arm.
“No. It’s about Jane! You need to hear me out!”
Colt looked at Peter’s hand on his arm.
Peter let go. “Please, give me just a moment.”
“Fine, you have a minute. Go.”
“I met Jane at the park this afternoon. I briefly spoke to her, but she wasn’t interested in talking much, so I left. As I was leaving, I passed a blue minivan with two large men standing outside. As I entered my car, I overhead them talking. They mentioned Jane so I stopped to eavesdrop. They aren’t who they say they are, Colt. They talked about chasing her for weeks and how they were glad to have finally caught her again.” He took a deep breath. “One guy said he’d make her pay for all the hell she’d put him through since she ran.”
Colt was struck with dread. His gut had told him that something was off, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it for her sake. He’d ignored his instincts and let George take her. “Damn it! Can you describe the van in more detail?”
Peter pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Colt. “I can do you one better. Here’s the license plate. I figured it was the least I could do after the trouble I caused.”
Colt scanned it and then shoved it into his pocket. He sat on his bike and fired it up. “Thanks, Peter.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you find her.”
Colt nodded and then drove away. He needed to get home. He really shouldn’t even be driving, but thankfully, his house wasn’t far, and this news seemed to have sobered him up a bit. He needed lots of coffee and Dr. Weston’s help.
Once Colt got home, he started the coffee pot and called his old friend. “Doc! I need you. Now.”
“Whatever is the matter, boy?”
“They have Jane. That wasn’t her father, and now, they have her.”
Dr. Weston gasped. “I’ll be right there.”
Colt hung up and then called the police, explaining the situation and the conversation Peter had heard. He gave them the license plate number and demanded they do something, but he was told that if she had gone willingly, there was nothing they could do.
Minutes later, Dr. Weston burst through the door, his arms full of boxes of research. “There might be something here to help. Last night, I saw mention of The Curators. The papers made them sound more like a think tank, but after digging further, it’s obvious that’s a front. They own land about forty-five miles south of here.”
Colt grabbed a map and spread it out on the table. Dr. Weston rifled through the papers until he found the information about the group.
Then, he studied the map. “Here!” He pushed a chubby finger on the map. “This is where it should be.”
Colt drank his coffee and studied the area. It looked like all woods and back roads to him. “Are you sure, Doc? It’s hard to pinpoint an address out there.”
He nodded. “I’m positive. There are photos of a small building surrounded by dense forest. This is where they claimed to meet to share their research. Donald Brandt originally ran it, but he died of a sudden heart attack about ten years ago, and his successor took over. The man’s name was Professor Anthony Russell. Shortly after that, the think tank was supposed to have disbanded, and the research stopped.”
Colt had the horrible feeling he’d already met Professor Russell. “Do the documents describe Russell or have a photo of him?”
Dr. Weston shook his head. “No. Nothing specific about him in here. All we know is, he made administration changes and then shut the whole organization down without explanation.”
Colt formulated a plan. He grabbed his hiking gear and then changed into dark clothing. While he was doing that, Dr. Weston packed food and water into a small waist pack. They loaded the gear into Dr. Weston’s car.
Colt went to jump in the driver’s seat, but Dr. Weston stopped him.
“Boy, you need to sleep off what’s left of the alcohol in your system before you get behind the wheel.” He shot Colt an accusatory look.
Dr. Weston had to bite his tongue, so he wouldn’t give the young man a thorough lecture about being drunk and stupid. But Colt’s father had been an old friend, and Colt was a good kid at heart. He would help Colt through this.
“You get some rest, and I’ll drive. You’ll need to be at your best for what lies ahead.”
Jane was drifting in and out of consciousness. She strained to open her eyes, but the weight of her lids seemed to fight against it. When she did manage a peek, everything was out of focus.
As she struggled to stay awake, she saw glimpses of things that weren’t there. She knew she was still in the van, but as she fought against the drug coursing through her veins, other visions took over.
She was recalling her past. She remembered being Alice Daniels.
She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes. The van was parked and empty, except for her. She could hear people talking just outside the window, but she wasn’t able to catch most of their conversation. Snippets filtered through her haze but not enough to make sense. She lay still, listening for anything that would give her a clue as to where she was.
Then, she heard a woman’s voice. It was a nasally whining sound that set her teeth on edge and provoked fear in her heart.
Julia! Oh dear God, not Julia!
Jane fought down the panic she could feel building in her chest. She took in deep breaths to control her anxiety. She remembered everything.
Julia was easily the meanest person she’d ever met. After being taken, Julia had pretended to care about her, claiming she would be her new mother. But the slightest bit of disobedience or resistance would bring out the demon hiding behind her cynical smile and large brown eyes. On a regular basis, she’d beat Jane as well as many of the other children who dared to try to stand up against her.
Then, there were the experiments. Professor Russell would put them through rounds and rounds of exhausting experiments each day, trying to find new ways to control their gifts and push them to their limits. He’d try to tell the children that they were games, but they all knew better.
During one particularly hard game, he’d pitted two of the children against each other. Little Sandra, no more than nine years old, stood in front of Jeremy. She’d trembled and cried, begging Professor Russell not to make her do this. But he had been relentless and had lacked compassion.
He’d repeated his motto, “We must do what we must do.”
Jeremy had stood tall, towering over Sandra a good nine inches. He was a brave young man, and he’d kept his face passive.
Professor Russell had ordered Sandra to begin.
She’d continued to cry as she lifted her hands toward Jeremy. For just a moment, he’d dropped his stoic mask, and he’d given her a look that told her it was okay. He hadn’t blamed her for what was about to happen.
She’d closed her eyes and touched him.
Jeremy did his best to endure, using his gifts to fight off the onslaught of pain Sandra transmitted through him. But her abilities had been more honed than his. She had been stronger. She was what the Professor had dubbed a Centerpiece, someone with remarkable abilities above and beyond the norm for their kind.
S
andra hadn’t wanted to continue, but she had known that punishment would be waiting if she didn’t follow through. She’d pushed back harder, and Jeremy had crumpled, writhing in pain. He had done his best not to cry out, knowing how hard it would be for Sandra if she chickened out and quit. She’d had to finish to prove her worth.
He’d clenched his teeth so hard that he actually heard one or two crack. He’d felt his body rising into the air as Sandra willed it.
Professor Russell had then ordered her to let go. She was reluctant, but when the order had been snapped at her once again, she’d flinched in fear, and she’d done as she had been told.
Jeremy had fallen a good twenty feet or so, breaking several bones in the process.
He’d spent a couple of months recovering, only to know that he’d have to endure the process again before long.
This was about the same time Jane—or rather, Alice—had realized she had to escape. She’d tried over and over to run, but they always caught her. Her punishments had included confinement to a small room during the day and starvation techniques. She had gotten a shot once a day, which she’d assumed was some sort of vitamin or nutrients to keep her alive.
As it had been drilled into them all, she had done what she must do.
She’d recovered, built her strength, and then tried to run again.
Julia had threatened to kill her several times, but she wasn’t allowed that option. Alice had become a favorite. She had shown promise of unparalleled powers. She was a Centerpiece of the highest order. This had only made Julia hate her more.
The week before her final attempt to run, Julia had entered her bedroom and given her a scathing lecture on acting like a lady.
As Jane had grown, despite her surroundings, she’d blossomed. At age twenty-two, she had gotten a lot of attention—not just from the other gifted boys, but also from leading members of the society.
Julia’s jealousy had run deeper than any loyalty to her organization. She’d called Jane a whore and then beaten her with a leather strap until she exhausted herself.