Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25

by Richard Paul Evans

  “Honey, you’re in the hospital,” Mrs. Liss said. Her face was dark with concern.

  “How did I get here?”

  “Paramedics,” Ostin said.

  “You passed out,” Mrs. Liss said. “The doctors were afraid you had a stroke.”

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “Do you remember what happened?” Mr. Liss asked.

  It hurt my head to think about it. “There was a guy with a gun.

  Then this man with two kids. One of them shocked my mother.” I looked at Ostin. “Did I dream that?”

  He shrugged. “I only saw the gunman.”

  “Is my mother okay?”

  Ostin didn’t answer.

  I turned to Mr. and Mrs. Liss. “She’s okay, isn’t she?”

  Mrs. Liss walked closer and put her hand on mine. Her eyes were filled with tears. “I have some bad news, honey. Your mother’s gone.”

  I looked at her blankly. “What do you mean?”

  “The police believe she’s been kidnapped,” Mr. Liss said.

  My heart froze. Kidnapped? “Why would someone kidnap her?”

  “We don’t know.”

  My body’s pain was nothing compared to the agony I now felt.

  Tears filled my eyes. How could this have happened? My mother had spent her life protecting and caring for me and now, I had failed to protect her. I had let her down. Why couldn’t they have just taken me? I wanted to fall asleep and wake up again in my own house, talking to my own mother. I wanted something to make sense. I wanted the nightmare to end.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lieutenant Lloyd

  That afternoon the police came to interview me. Mr. Liss had gone to work, leaving Ostin and his mother still with me. There were two policemen, both in uniform. The officer who did most of the talking was older, with gray hair.

  “Michael, I’m Lieutenant Lloyd of the Boise Police Department.

  This is Detective Steve Pearson.”

  Detective Pearson waved from behind. “Hello, Michael.”

  “Hey,” I said.

  Lieutenant Lloyd said to Ostin and his mother, “We have some questions for Michael. Would you mind waiting outside for a few minutes?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Liss said, putting her hand on Ostin’s back.

  “Let’s go, Ostin.”

  Ostin looked at me sympathetically. “See ya, buddy.”

  After we were alone, Lieutenant Lloyd walked to the side of my bed. He must have noticed my ticking because he said, “Don’t worry.

  We’re here to help.”

  “I know,” I said.

  He grabbed my bed’s railing with one hand. “I’m really sorry about what’s happened to your mother, son. The good news is we have the man who held you up in custody. We’re just trying to put the pieces together. I need you to tell me everything you remember about what happened.”

  I closed my eyes. Remembering what happened was like pulling a Band-Aid off a bad cut. “I remember some,” I said.

  “Please tell us what you remember.”

  I rolled my tongue around inside my mouth. It felt thick and heavy. I was blinking pretty hard. “My mom had taken us out for pizza for my birthday. We had just finished eating and were walking out to our car . . .”

  “You and your mother?” Detective Pearson asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. My friend Ostin was with us, but he went back inside to get his jacket.”

  “Go on,” Lieutenant Lloyd said.

  “My mom was unlocking the car when this guy was there.”

  “The guy with the gun?”

  I nodded.

  “Clyde Stuart,” Detective Pearson said. “His name is Clyde Stuart.

  Where did he come from?”

  “I don’t know. He was just between the cars. Neither of us saw him at first.”

  “What did he do?” Lieutenant Lloyd asked.

  “He asked for some money. When my mom went for her wallet, he pulled out a gun and asked for her purse.”

  “Then what?”

  “He told us to give him our car keys. I handed them to him.”

  “Anything else?”

  I shook my head. “That’s it.”

  Lieutenant Lloyd looked at me with a perplexed expression, then turned back to his partner. Detective Pearson said, “What we can’t figure out is what happened to the suspect.”

  I realized the gap in my story. My eyes darted nervously between them. “What do you mean?”

  “He was incapacitated when we arrived on the scene,” Pearson said. “He claims the keys shocked him.”

  I blinked several times. “I don’t remember.”

  “Stuart was acting like he’d been hit by a Taser,” Lieutenant Lloyd said. “We had to carry him into the police cruiser.”

  “Taser?” Pearson said. “It was more like he was struck by a bolt of lightning.”

  “Maybe he was,” I said.

  Lieutenant Lloyd wrote something on his pad. Then he said,

  “We’re wondering if the gunman had an accomplice. Was there anyone with him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see anyone else around?”

  “There was a man.”

  Lieutenant Lloyd looked up from his pad. “What man?”

  “I don’t know. Just a man. He was dressed in a suit. And he had a boy and a girl with him about my age.”

  “Did he come from the pizza place?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “What did he look like? His face?”

  “I’m not sure about that either. He was wearing sunglasses.”

  “At night?” Pearson asked.

  “Yeah. I thought it was weird.”

  “What else do you remember about him?” Lloyd asked.

  “He had short, dark brown hair. He looked . . . rich.”

  “Definitely didn’t look like Stuart,” Lloyd said, jotting down more notes in his pad. “Did you see them take your mother?”

  “No. I fainted or something.”

  “Fear will do that,” Pearson said.

  I didn’t think it had anything to do with fear, but I said nothing.

  “Do you have any idea why someone would want to kidnap your mother?”

  I shook my head. “No. Why don’t you ask Stuart?”

  “We’ve interrogated him but he’s tight as a clam. We know he’s hiding something, but whomever or whatever he’s protecting has got a real hold on him. Apparently he’s a lot more afraid of them than he is of us.”

  I tried not to tear up. “Will you find her?”

  Lieutenant Lloyd looked at me sympathetically. “We’ll do our best. I promise.” He saw the anguish on my face and added, “We’re not done with Stuart yet. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He took a card from his front pocket. “Take this. It has my office and cell phone number. If you think of anything else just call me.” The two policemen started to leave the room. Lieutenant Lloyd stopped by the door. “Oh, by the way, the gun Stuart had was empty.”

  “Empty?”

  “No bullets. I thought it might make you feel a little better to know that he wasn’t intending to shoot you.”

  He might as well, I thought.

  The policemen walked out. Ostin rushed in as soon as they left.

  “Do they know where your mother is?”

  “No.” I lay back in bed. “What did you see?”

  “Hardly anything. When I got to your car, you and that man were lying on the ground and your mom was gone. I didn’t see anyone else.

  I ran back to the restaurant and told them to call the police.”

  “There were three people besides the gunman. A man in sunglasses and two kids our age. The man knew my name. He knew my mom’s and Taylor’s names. He knew about my power.”

  Ostin scratched his head. “How could he have known all that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He brought his kids?”

  “I don’t think they were his. And t
hey had electrical powers. At least one of them did. The man called him Zeus. He’s the one who shocked my mom.”

  “He could shock like you?”

  “Sort of. Except his electricity left his body. Like lightning.” I leaned forward. “There’s something else I remember. He seemed afraid of the girl.”

  “What did she do?”

  “I don’t know. But the closer she got to me the dizzier I felt. Then I passed out.” I combed my hair back from my face. “They’re not going to find my mother.”

  “Don’t talk that way.”

  “Have you heard from Taylor?”

  “No, not yet.”

  I lay back in bed. “At least she’s safe. It’s a good thing she didn’t come with us.”

  Part Two

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kidnapped

  Taylor shook with fear in the backseat of the utility van. Her head still ached, as did her hands, which were strapped in front of her with plastic ties. She felt as if she’d been drugged. A leather strap crossed at her waist, holding her tightly to the seat, and her legs were bound at her ankles with leather shackles fastened to the floor. The van appeared to have been designed for this very purpose—transporting prisoners. On top of her fear, she felt carsick and wondered if she might throw up.

  It had all happened so fast. She had been at cheerleading practice for only a few minutes when she came down with an excruciating headache and had to sit down. After ten minutes Mrs. Shaw suggested she go home. That was when Taylor first noticed the scary-looking girl watching her from the gym door. At first she went outside and sat on the concrete steps waiting for Michael, hoping the pain would go away. She noticed that the scary girl followed her at a distance.

  Then the pain got so severe that Taylor knew she couldn’t wait any longer for Michael, so she began walking home. She was crossing the school’s back parking lot when a white van pulled up beside her—the van she was held captive in. Taylor had thought the van was one of the school’s food service vehicles and she hadn’t paid much attention until it stopped, the side door swung open, and the scary-looking girl—the same girl who now sat next to her—stepped out. Taylor’s first thought was Why is that girl wearing a dog collar?

  Her headache immediately intensified until she fell first to her knees, then to all fours, dizzy and disoriented.

  “Take it easy!” someone shouted. Then a man got out from the front of the van and stood next to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t think so,” Taylor said.

  “Let me give you a hand.”

  Her head was spinning, and the buzzing in her ears was so loud that she didn’t resist the two men picking her up and carrying her inside the van, blindfolding her, and strapping her down to the backseat.

  Then someone put something over her mouth and nose. That’s the last thing she remembered. She wondered if anyone had seen her being kidnapped and called the police. Maybe her father was coming for her right now. She desperately hoped so, but doubted it. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds. She had been taken without even a scream.

  Heavy rock music played from the front of the van. Earlier, when Taylor woke, her captors were arguing over whether to listen to classic rock or rap. They flipped a coin to decide. Classic rock had won out, and Aerosmith was playing, adding to her headache.

  The scary-looking girl sat alone on the bench in front of her. The girl was about her age, though a little shorter. She had short, black spiky hair streaked with purple, black makeup, and she wore a black leather collar around her neck, studded with what looked like real diamonds. She had earbuds in both ears, the white cord running down her neck.

  For the last hour Taylor had tried to reboot the driver, even though she knew it would likely result in crashing the van. A crash would, at least, draw outside attention and she’d rather take her chances with an accident than with these people. But her attempts to reboot him were only met with pain—a sharp prick in her temples. Taylor decided to ignore the pain and try rebooting again with all her might. She pressed the thought, but the pain just grew.

  It was like sticking pins into her own head. She finally groaned out and stopped.

  The girl in front of her turned around and removed one of the buds from her ear. “I’d tell you to stop doing that except it feels kind of good.”

  “Doing what?” Taylor asked, her head still throbbing.

  “Whatever it is that you do to people’s brains.”

  Taylor looked at her. “How do you know what I’m doing?”

  “I can feel it. But you’re wasting your time. It doesn’t hurt me and it won’t get past me.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Nichelle,” she said. “I’d shake your hand, but”—she paused and smiled—“you’re tied up.” Her smile fell into a dark glare. “Actually, I wouldn’t shake your hand anyway, and the better question is, what am I?”

  “What are you?”

  “I’m your worst nightmare. Just think of me as an electrical vampire. And girl, I could feed off you all day.” The girl put the earbud back in and turned around.

  Taylor had never before felt so helpless or afraid. She thought of Michael and his mother waiting for her; she thought of her parents.

  They probably hadn’t noticed her absence yet, thinking that she’d gone with Michael and his mother. It wouldn’t be until late that evening that they started worrying. Her mother would be a wreck and her father would be following up on every resource available to a police officer, but by then she’d be long gone, maybe even out of the state. She wanted to be home with all of her heart.

  “Why does my head hurt?”

  “That’s me. Letting you know I’m here.” She smiled. “I can increase the pressure if you like.”

  “No thank you.”

  “I thought you might say that.” Nichelle turned completely around and looked into Taylor’s eyes. The pain started increasing, higher, then higher.

  Taylor shouted out, “Stop. Please.”

  The girl was enjoying herself. “Hurt, don’t it.”

  Taylor’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”

  The pain stopped. “See, I’m what an electrician would call a ground wire. I just soak up all those lovely powers of yours until we can get you to where you’re going.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see. Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

  “Why do I feel so sick?”

  “Funny you should ask. The scientists at Elgen wondered that same thing. They think it’s because your body has become so used to high levels of electricity that you don’t feel normal without it. That’s what makes me so darn annoying.”

  “Elgen? Are we going to the Elgen Academy?” Taylor asked.

  “So you don’t want to be surprised, eh? Okay then, we’re going to the lah-bor-a-tory,” she said, purposely drawing out the word like she was a mad scientist. Taylor couldn’t tell if she was trying to sound comical or scary, but it didn’t matter. Either way, it was scary.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Same thing scientists always do with lab animals—poke and prod around, and when they’re done, they’ll dissect you like a frog in a middle school biology class.”

  Pure fear passed through Taylor. “Why? I haven’t done anything.”

  Nichelle shrugged, “Why not?” She leaned back. “You ask too many questions. They’re hurting my ears. Like this . . .”

  Suddenly a painful, high-pitched squeal tore through Taylor’s head. She started crying. “Stop it. Please, stop it.”

  “Say ‘pretty please.’”

  “Pretty please.”

  “‘With sugar on top.’”

  Taylor sobbed. “With sugar on top.”

  Nichelle smiled. “Good girl.” The pain ceased. “Now, no more talking. You just be real quiet there and in the future, should I ask you something, you will refer to me as ‘Master.’ You got that?”

  Taylor just looked at her.


  The girl’s eyes narrowed. “I asked you a question.”

  Taylor’s head started filling with the noise. “Yes, Master.”

  “Very good.”

  Nichelle gave Taylor a big grin, turned back around, replaced the earbud, and lay back. “I love the abductions,” she muttered. “It’s the only time I can do whatever I want without getting in trouble. It’s been a long time since any fresh Glows have been brought in.”

  A voice up front said, “Knock it off, Nichelle.”

  She pulled out an earbud. “You’re no fun. It’s boring back here. I could make her bark like a dog or do something really embarrassing.”

  “Just leave her alone.”

  She turned around and said to Taylor, “These old dudes have no sense of humor. By the way, you should have seen what I did to that boy you led us to. Vey. He had a lot of electricity in him. Much more than usual. When I shut him down, I almost killed him. He’s probably still in the hospital.”

  “You have Michael?”

  “I can’t hear you,” she sang. She winked. “You didn’t say ‘Master.’”

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said quickly, afraid she might hurt her again.

  “You have Michael, Master?”

  Nichelle smiled. “No. The little guy’s friend showed up and we had to go. But we’ll have him soon enough. We took a little insur-ance. You and his dearest mumsy.”

  “You have Mrs. Vey, Master?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  A sharp voice came from the front. “Nichelle, just shut up.”

  Nichelle leaned toward Taylor. “Now look what you did. You got me in trouble.” She turned back to the front. “Oh, chill. It’s not like she’ll ever get the chance to tell anyone.” She shook her head.

  “Idiots,” she said under her breath, once again replacing the earbud.

  “No more talking.” She leaned her head against the interior metal wall of the van.

  Taylor tried to keep from crying. She was in pain and frightened.

  She wondered if what the girl had told her about the laboratory was true. Would they really cut her open? As frightened as she was to find out, she had to know. She leaned her head against the van’s wall to read Nichelle’s mind. She saw images of the school from the brochure, she saw other youths her age, some of them well dressed and laughing, and she knew Nichelle hated these kids. She saw something she didn’t understand—she saw herself at the school interacting with the other students as if it had already happened. Was she seeing the future? Then she saw other youths lying on the ground, some in pain, others crying in a dark place that looked like a dungeon. She sat back up, unable to continue. Everything she saw in Nichelle’s mind terrified her.