The Collection

by Shannon Stoker

  Mia’s eyes lit up. She had never dreamed it would be that easy.

  “Why Guatemala?” Riley asked.

  “I met someone on the Internet, a former American who is living there,” Mia said.

  “Do you think it’s a trap?” Riley said. “American Internet is pretty closed off. You’d need special skills to hack into that . . .”

  “What?” Mia asked. “Do you know a group of Americans who have those skills in Guatemala?”

  Riley nodded her head.

  “Where are they? What are they like?”

  “You should know better than me,” Riley said. “You’re the one going to spend the rest of your days with them.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mia said. “Please, tell me what you know.”

  Mia was thrilled. She hadn’t had the time to think much about S or their late-night chats. Mia would soak up everything Riley had to offer on her mystery correspondent’s home.

  “Some people out there want to help Americans,” Riley said. “Women’s rights, that sort of thing. There are small pockets in certain countries dedicated to that cause. I’m assuming that’s what your contact in Guatemala is about.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Mia said.

  “Is it?” Riley asked. “You escaped. Your friends are being forced to take up a cause now and you’d lead them into another. Why not live your life for a bit?”

  “You’re not living your life,” Mia said. “All you do is move around the world searching for a ghost.”

  Mia regretted the words the second they left her mouth.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Mia said.

  “It’s fine,” Riley said. “You’re right. Maybe I don’t want to see you head down the same path.”

  “Right now my path just leads to rescuing Andrew and Carter.”

  Riley nodded her head.

  “Promise me your goals will remain uncorrupted,” Riley said. “The world already has enough villains.”

  “Of course,” Mia said. “You don’t think the Americans in Guatemala are bad, do you?”

  “I think they’re extremists,” Riley said. “Things aren’t as black and white as they seem, Mia. Don’t let your head get so locked in one direction that you can’t see the destruction you leave behind you.”

  Mia was silent. Riley smacked at a bug on her arm.

  “Come on,” Riley said. “We have some more work if we’re going to get moving on this.”

  Riley walked inside the shanty and Mia followed. She didn’t understand what Riley meant about things not being black and white. To Mia they were. The way America treated all their youth—not just the females—was wrong. Mia shook her head. One mission at a time, she told herself. Right now it was rescuing her friends.

  Chapter 16

  The armed services receive multiple requests each year from other countries to train their units. That is how skilled American men are. Of course, their requests are always denied.

  —American Gazette

  Intense hunger now joined the other list of problems ailing Andrew. He moved the rag back and forth across the pristine sink, trying hard to block out the noises blaring over the speakers. He couldn’t tell if they’d been in here for hours or days. It felt like months. Time was starting to lose meaning. The music stopped. Carter dropped his rag and stood next to Andrew. Carter’s face was expressionless, and Andrew was sure his own was just as hard to read.

  The door opened. Andrew’s ears were ringing from the memories of the sounds played over and over. Be strong, he told himself. If he showed these men what he could handle it would stop soon.

  The sergeant frowned. He paced back and forth in front of the men, eyeing them up and down. Andrew kept his eyes forward, posture perfect. Carter was doing the same.

  “What is it you want?” the sergeant asked.

  “Food, sleep, silence,” Carter said.

  Andrew whipped his head to the side, angry with Carter for speaking, but the blond man kept his eyes glued to the sergeant and his face expressionless.

  “And you?” the sergeant asked.

  Andrew wanted the same things, but he was too afraid an outburst would result in more punishment. He couldn’t handle any more. Andrew tried to guess what the man wanted to hear, but he was having trouble forming words.

  “Silent,” the sergeant said. He turned his attention to Carter. “Maybe we should have kept you separated. You come with me, and Private Simpson will stay here.”

  Andrew felt his fists tighten. Simpson was his new name now; he’d forgotten. He wanted to rage at Carter; this was his fault. Carter didn’t put up a fight as the sergeant wrapped his arm over Carter’s shoulder. The two left the room and Andrew was alone again. He debated screaming but thought any noise would burst his eardrums. He keeled over; his stomach was too empty. Andrew didn’t understand why Carter was getting the praise and attention. This whole situation was his fault. Andrew was the good soldier, not Carter. Andrew had the discipline. He had to get outside, speed up his training so he could . . .

  Again Andrew’s thoughts betrayed him. Why did he want to get outside so bad? He stared openmouthed at the ground. He didn’t think enlistment would be like this; he had thought it would be more formal. Was this enlistment? Andrew asked himself. It didn’t matter. He had to show these men he was a good soldier; now that Carter was gone he could prove his worth. The noise returned at full volume. Andrew didn’t bother covering his ears. He picked the rag back up and started wiping the counter.

  Chapter 17

  A global governing board should be created to monitor human rights around the world.

  —Comment from the Global Reporter message board

  The quiet was deafening. Mia stood on guard around the small patch of trees and relied on her ears to guide her, but they were giving her nothing to work with. She tried to ignore the pain in her thigh from the giant bruise growing under her shorts. Mia lifted her hand to touch the welt, and it was at that moment her attacker came barreling out of the trees.

  Mia moved out of Riley’s way and gained herself an extra second, but the redhead wasn’t about to waste her lead. Mia tried her best to defend herself from the blows and still look for a moment to land one herself, but Riley was as quick as ever. Their sparring came to an end when Riley’s fist broke through Mia’s defenses and came just short of knocking Mia to the ground.

  “That was better,” Riley said. “I waited till you were distracted. It only takes a second.”

  “Me checking the bruise?” Mia asked.

  Riley nodded.

  “A lot of fighting is waiting around,” Mia said. “I get bored and my mind wanders.”

  “This is a controlled exercise,” Riley said. “The next step is to have you prepared for random attacks. We could be playing chess and I’ll try to pounce on you.”

  “You’d risk your precious board?” Mia asked.

  “It’s all about the timing.”

  Mia swatted her arm and killed a mosquito. She didn’t know why she bothered. After a week out here her body was covered in bruises and bug bites. Killing one wouldn’t make that big of a difference.

  “Do you think they’ll attack me when I get to town?” Mia asked.

  “They might,” Riley said. “But not right away. If things go according to plan it will be you doing the attacking.”

  “Get close enough to Dalmy and find a way to hold her hostage. Trade her freedom for our men,” Mia said.

  She went over the plan in her head again and again.

  “Don’t let them know what you’re capable of,” Riley said. “Even though it’s not much.”

  “I’m getting better,” Mia said.

  “I could take you with both arms behind my back,” Riley said. “I don’t have enough time to turn you into a fighting machine.”

  Mia frowned.

  “Don’t get down on yourself,” Riley said. “You’re doing fine for what we need.”

  “When will I be ready?” Mia aske
d.

  She was getting antsy about Carter and Andrew. She couldn’t begin to guess what they were going through.

  “I don’t know,” Riley said. “Soon.”

  The days and nights were becoming a blur. All they did was play chess and work on Mia’s defense abilities. She’d yet to beat Riley at either.

  “I don’t think I’ll get much better,” Mia said. “We should go now.”

  “And what will you do when you get our men back?” Riley asked.

  “Leave,” Mia said.

  “How?” Riley asked. “On foot? Dragging Dalmy along with you?”

  “I’ll get a car too,” Mia said.

  “Can you drive?”

  “I’ve driven before,” Mia said.

  She left out the part about not knowing what she was doing and the car running out of gas. Riley’s eyes looked like daggers in the moonlight.

  “By lying to me you’re only hurting yourself,” Riley said.

  “I’m not lying,” Mia said. “It might not have gone so well though. I can make Carter or Andrew drive.”

  “What if they’re not capable?” Riley asked. “You need this planned out to perfection for it to work.”

  “I don’t know,” Mia said. “Can you teach me?”

  “To drive?” Riley asked.

  Mia nodded. “You must have some kind of computer program.”

  She welcomed a chance to switch up their current routine. Riley’s daggers faded and a coy smile went across her face.

  “I have something better,” she said.

  Riley turned around and started walking through their small wooded area away from the cabin. Mia did her best to keep up; she was more interested in avoiding stepping on a bug or getting smacked with a branch, so she didn’t notice when Riley stopped walking and Mia almost ran right into her.

  “Little notice next time . . .” Mia’s complaints faded away when she looked up.

  Sitting in the clearing was a vehicle, or at least the shell of one. Mia walked around the car. It had no roof and was high up off the ground. There were no doors and the paneling on the sides was missing.

  “It’s a jeep,” Riley said. “A run-down one at that.”

  “How did you—”

  “I found it abandoned about two kilometers north of here,” Riley said. “I waited a week and nobody came back for it. It wouldn’t start though, so I took my time pushing it back this way.”

  “Why is it so destroyed?” Mia asked.

  “It broke down, so they took what they could from it and left it in the desert,” Riley said.

  “Does it start now?” Mia asked.

  “Give it a try,” Riley said.

  Mia climbed up into the driver’s seat. She remembered starting her father’s car and felt around for the keys.

  “Where are the keys?” Mia asked.

  Riley gave her a frown.

  “Cars haven’t used keys in decades,” Riley said.

  “How does it start then?”

  Riley walked over. Mia climbed across the center console and into the passenger seat. There was a single white button in the middle of the dashboard. Riley used her thumb to press it down and a light hum came over the vehicle.

  “But won’t people steal it this way?” Mia asked. “And the engine is so quiet.”

  “The buttons are normally fingerprint coded,” Riley said. “I’m guessing not all military-style ones have this feature, because A, it’s probably not traveling alone a whole lot, and B, multiple militia members need to drive it. Or option C: when the electrical panel in this thing fried it rebooted the fingerprint code.”

  Mia watched as Riley’s hand moved down the dashboard. There was another panel with four buttons. She went over each of their purposes.

  “Drive, reverse, harsh terrain, and inclement weather. You really only need the first two.”

  “What was that for?” Mia pointed at a space in the dash where something had been ripped out.

  “Self-driving system,” Riley said. “It looks like the militia wanted to keep that one.”

  “The car can drive itself?”

  “Plug in a destination and it will take you there,” Riley said.

  Riley pushed the first button and the car moved forward. She was using her feet to accelerate the jeep. Once they were out of the branches the moonlight lit up the desert. Mia was overwhelmed by the beauty of the place. The car sped up and Mia’s hair flapped around in the wind. Riley made a quick turn and spun the jeep back around. She sped up even more, but still the engine stayed at a dull hum. Soon they started slowing down. Riley turned the wheel left and Mia saw the patch of trees reappear. The vehicle slowed even more and Mia thought Riley was stopping too soon.

  “Why don’t you pull it all the way in?” Mia asked.

  The dull hum was gone and Mia saw the buttons were no longer illuminated. They came to a full stop about ten feet away from Riley’s parking space.

  “This is a broken car,” Riley said.

  She jumped out and Mia did the same. Riley was already at the rear pushing and Mia joined her.

  “Can you fix it?”

  “I already did,” Riley said. “Most cars are electric. In America you still use gasoline engines, which make more noise. I wish I had a backup tank now though. This vehicle’s electrical board is fried. I can get her to drive about five kilometers at the most before she dies. I’m proud of myself for that accomplishment.”

  “You want me to learn to drive on a car that only goes five kilometers?” Mia asked.

  “No,” Riley said. “I want you to learn to drive on a computer program I have in the shack. Then maybe test this out a little bit once you have some skills.”

  “How will that help? Do you have a spare set of pedals in there too?” Mia asked.

  “Don’t be so wary of my technology,” Riley said. “All you need is a pair of glasses and the simulator program. Trust me.”

  Mia was hoping for the chance to drive all over the desert. She reminded herself these lessons weren’t about having fun; they were about saving her friends. She smiled at Riley as they pushed the car back through the trees. Even though it wasn’t what Mia had anticipated, she looked forward to working with the computer program.

  Chapter 18

  America is the most physically fit country in the world. Citizens spend more time outside and engage in more physical activities, resulting in healthier people.

  —American Gazette

  The lines on Andrew’s hand were fascinating him. He liked to make his hand into a fist and watch the lines around his knuckles disappear and reappear. It was a distraction from the noise, but Andrew couldn’t be sure the loud music was still playing. He wasn’t sure of much anymore.

  He knew he must have slept at some point, and eaten too, but neither of these basic human acts was in his memory. Andrew decided Carter was long dead by this point. At first Andrew was grateful he was still alive, but then he started to think dying would be the less cruel fate.

  The noise quieted down. Andrew thought it might have been turned off, but the phantom sounds were still playing in his brain. He looked toward the bathroom door; it was still as pristine as the day he arrived here, whenever that was. The man dressed in a lab coat came in again. This was his eighth visit. Andrew thought that might mean he had been here for eight days, but it could have meant eight months.

  The first five times the man came into the room, Andrew had tried to attack him. Every time, the three men who escorted the doctor beat Andrew back. He was easily outmatched. His stomach was still sore from their punches.

  “Good morning,” the doctor said. “Or is it afternoon?”

  Andrew’s lips were dry. He wanted to speak, to hear the sound of his own voice, but he wasn’t sure he had one anymore. Two of the escorts came and grabbed Andrew off the floor. They hoisted him up and one pulled up the sleeve of his scrubs. Andrew looked as the doctor uncovered his tray. Each time before, there had been five needles. Five quick shots and An
drew was alone again. Today there was only one. He wondered if it was the final dose to end his suffering. The doctor loaded the syringe and walked toward Andrew. It was at this moment the fear of death crept over him. He wasn’t ready to pass on.

  With the little energy he had he raised both his fists and slammed his elbows into the guards’ stomachs simultaneously. Both were caught off guard and dropped their grips on Andrew. He pushed past the doctor and made it to the door. The third man, the sergeant, stepped aside, and Andrew was almost in the hall. He heard yelling behind him and then a loud zapping noise. Andrew felt electricity explode through his body. He was stopped in his tracks and fell to the floor. His hand landed just beyond the threshold. Andrew moved his head up and watched his hand open and close into a fist and the lines in his palm disappear.

  Chapter 19

  Grant Marsden is living proof that mandatory service produces outstanding men with amazing contributions to our society. He is everyone’s son.

  —American Gazette

  The drive to the capital took a little under an hour. As Grant drove up the hill leading into the city he took a moment to soak in the view. It was almost perfect. Short buildings made out of marble reflected the afternoon sun, making the whole area glow, but his eye was distracted by the monument. A single pillar that rose several hundred feet in the air, it was designed after a rook, a piece from an ancient game most had never heard of. Grant knew not only what the game was but how to play it, and he was quite good at chess.

  The building was supposed to remind the country of its past and serve to honor those who protected America, but Grant saw it as an eyesore. He’d been to the top several times. While the view was beautiful, it wasn’t worth how hideous the structure looked from the ground.

  He drove past the Rook and straight up to the gate surrounding the Mission. The guard waved him through without checking any documentation. Grant smiled at his own notoriety. The Mission was the most important building in the world. It housed the offices for all the men who ran the country. Grant had once heard that before the Registry, the leader of the country slept in the same place he worked; he always thought that sounded inappropriate for a man of such stature. He reminded himself that that was when the country was weak. Now it was strong and would only grow more powerful.