Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  Jaden glared at him for a second then focused on the road. He kept straight as the freeway broke off in north and south directions.

  “You’re the one who said we had to get out of the city, now you’re saying I should be hiding?” Jaden asked.

  “The further we can get from that place the better, but yes, you need to hide. They’re expecting you to run, they know you’ll try to leave the city.”

  “But he can’t control me now,” Jaden said, yet even as the words fell from his mouth, he knew they were not true. “I mean, the collar doesn’t work.”

  Seth chuffed and shook his head. “There are other ways.”

  “How?” Jaden asked, his voice raspier than usual. “How can he control me?”

  “I don’t know,” Seth answered. “But he can. You gave it to him, that’s why he did all those things to you.”

  Jaden didn’t ask anymore, he didn’t want to know or remember. His fingers found the collar around his neck: a reminder. It would have to come off soon if he was going to blend in. The cuffs on his wrists would also need removing. He probably looked a freak: pale skin, dark hair, scars covering most of his body, a strange tattoo on one arm. He was glad he was mostly covered, hiding the signs of his differences from the rest.

  Trouble finally found him. He had already passed through Oakland, going through Castro Valley, staying well within the speed limit and the lines of the road, when a traffic cop on a motorcycle lit his lights and blared a siren.

  “Pull over,” Seth said instantly.

  “But—”

  “Pull over,” Seth said again, smiling.

  Jaden decelerated and pulled off to the shoulder. He worried that his chest would explode, he was so nervous. “The car is stolen,” Jaden breathed.

  “Yes,” said Seth. “Wait for him to come to your window.”

  Jaden watched him through the Ford’s rearview mirror. The cop spoke into a radio, then approached the car.

  “What will I do?” Jaden asked.

  Seth barked a laugh. “Joseph isn’t here to order you around, so you’re looking to me? Aren’t you psychokinetic? Pull the keys out of the motorcycle and toss them in the field. As soon as the cop gets close, drive away and he won’t be able to follow you.”

  The plan sounded simple enough, but a better plan was tossing the motorcycle off the road, thus damaging the radio. Then the cop couldn’t report the driver’s description.

  When the cop reached the back hatch of the car, one hand on his gun, Jaden knew it was time. Using the rearview mirror to see what he was doing, Jaden lift the motorcycle and flung it into a field. It smashed into the trunk of a tree, its chrome and metal body crumpling with a satisfying sound.

  Before reaching the Ford’s passenger window, the cop searched for the source of the destructive noise. His body stiffened when he saw his crushed bike under the damaged tree.

  Jaden didn’t waste time. He punched the gas pedal and merged onto the freeway, ignoring the sounds of braking and honking.

  He’d bought a little more time, but he would have to change cars soon. A quarter tank of gasoline was all he had left, and as soon as it spluttered and died, Jaden would abandon it and search for another.

  He quickly ate the rest of his breakfast. But consuming the rich food, when his stomach was used to milder meals, made him feel sick. The éclairs and cinnamon buns, now sitting heavily in his stomach, would give him enough energy for an emergency. Though Jaden had not noticed anyone following him, he was sure they were looking for him. It was only a matter of time before Joseph’s people spotted him.

  Westbound traffic was heavy, and though Jaden headed east, cars on his side of the freeway slowed to watch the other side struggle. He weaved around them, picking up as much distance and speed as he could. Then the eastbound traffic clogged.

  A sign on an overpass indicated he approached Livermore, though at this crawl he thought he would never get there. Jaden was stuck in the fast lane, blocked on all sides. If he was going to reach the exit, he had to move the cars around him. That was a risky idea. The phenomenon might look like an earthquake, but it wouldn’t feel like one. Drivers would surely report the strange incident to authorities. Then Joseph’s people would be alerted that Jaden had been in Livermore. Jaden could not allow that to happen. So he sat in his car, drumming his fingers, waiting. Traffic crawled to a painful thirty miles per hour.

  Through the dull motors of the cars surrounding him, Jaden heard a distinctive whop-whop-whop of a helicopter. Maybe there was an accident up ahead, and a Medi Flight helicopter was responding. He adjusted the side mirrors to see it, but couldn’t get it in his view. There was no need. The helicopter flew past his driver’s side window. Medi Flight helicopters were large and typically red and white. The helicopter above him had nothing to do with emergency medical response.

  This helicopter was dark blue, almost black, and it was not speeding down the freeway to check an accident. It circled above him, the whop-whop of the main rotor mingled with the whine of its engine. The sound was so powerful it vibrated inside the car.

  If he had been anyone else, like the woman gabbing on her phone in the Toyota next to him, or the wannabe cowboy singing in an old truck, the helicopter would be a curious sight. But he wasn’t someone else. Jaden knew as sure as he knew anything that the people in the helicopter were looking for him.

  Abandoning his mirrors, Jaden twisted his body to see through the back windshield. Two matching silver Suburbans wound their way through traffic, honking as cars moved out of their way.

  “Go!” Seth yelled.

  Jaden floored the gas pedal and took to the narrow shoulder, nicking the sides of cars as he urged the little car forward and bumping it into the center divider. He laid on the horn, trying to get people to move, then gave up on them and did it himself.

  The rules of psychokinesis were refreshingly simple: anything that could move could be moved, no matter the size or the weight. Like anything, it took energy to move those things, but whether it was a pencil or a bus, Jaden could move it easily.

  Cars in front of him shifted and crashed out of his way as he advanced through traffic. Through the rearview mirror, Jaden watched them fall in place behind him, blocking the path of the chasing Suburbans. The helicopter was different—it occupied all levels of space, nothing could get in its way.

  The Suburbans slowed but remained close. They were out of his mental reach, and he was not sure what the people inside would do if they came within his range of influence.

  At the North Livermore Avenue exit, traffic stopped, and all lanes, including the shoulder he’d been using, were filled with cars. Jaden slammed on the brakes and the car squealed to a stop, hitting the car in front of him with a loud crash. The airbag deployed, his head hit, then whipped back to the seat.

  Locked in with nowhere to drive, Jaden snatched the backpack from the passenger’s seat, slung it over his back, and fled.

  The driver whose car Jaden had hit was already swearing and shaking his fist. But whatever he was yelling, Jaden didn’t hear. He sprinted between cars, not sure where he was going, only knowing that wherever it was he had to get there fast.

  The circling helicopter was losing altitude. There were two people inside it, he couldn’t see if Joseph was one of them. He looked behind him as he pounded the pavement at full speed, avoiding cars and trucks. Both Suburbans roared, taking to the dirt shoulder on the right side of the freeway and approaching fast.

  He was coming to the overpass—he would have to jump into the traffic below to escape. If the choice was getting caught, or dying like a bee on a car windshield, he’d take the latter.

  A couple of overturned cars had caused all this, Jaden saw that now. The accident was maybe a half a mile ahead of him, an ambulance on scene. The wrecked cars inspired him.

  Anything that could move, could be moved. The helicopter circled from above, its rotors cutting the air with its whop and engine whine. Two Suburbans came at him from behind, the
ir only purpose to capture and return him to a life of misery and pain. Neither the people in the SUVs nor the people in the helicopter had his best interest at heart. They wanted to exploit him.

  At the overpass Jaden stopped running. He waited for the helicopter to circle the barren brown hills, waited for the first SUV to get within range.

  They did not have to chase him. They could have left him alone, let him escape. It was their fault. He had to get away and he had to survive. These people did not take him seriously. A lesson, then.

  He felt every car within his range, the weight, the texture, the heat of the engines. He saw them in his mind’s eye at every possible angle, from above, from below, from within.

  With one breath, Jaden reached his hand to the SUV, mentally grabbing it by its chassis. The SUV pitched forward as it moved, the front bumper screaming as it scraped asphalt. Then, upside down, rear forward, it catapulted into the air like a football going for a field goal, and soared over Jaden’s head.

  It did not fly through goal posts.

  The SUV smashed into the helicopter with a burst of wrecking sound. The explosion was astonishing. Burning rotors (still spinning), tires, and twisted metal fell to the hill, causing a secondary explosion so powerful it shook the ground.

  Jaden exhaled and tore his eyes from the flaming hill to stare at the second SUV, now parked on the shoulder.

  Drivers and passengers got out of their cars to gasp and scream. Some dialed their cell phones, others snapped photos, but most panicked, running around like disturbed ants on a sand hill.

  And the people in the second SUV made no move.

  With a quick flick of Jaden’s fingers, the Suburban tilted on its side and rolled down the hill, crunching and cracking as it tumbled. He didn’t care about the people inside. They were his enemies and this was a war for his life.

  He ran to the edge of the overpass, dodging people who marveled at the smoldering hill, and stepped onto the ledge. It was probably a twenty foot jump. He was about to backtrack so he could walk down instead of jump, when he saw a garbage truck coming toward him. The truck would make a faster getaway; he needed to clear this suspicious scene.

  Waiting until the last possible moment, Jaden closed his eyes and jumped, dropping into the rumbling truck and landing softly in a pungent pile of garbage. He scrambled and righted himself, bracing his hands on the walls as the truck rumbled on.

  Jaden breathed through his mouth and wished he had walked down the hill instead of jumping into the truck. He told himself that this way no one would know where he was going. And if anyone had seen him jump into the truck, they would not see him leave it.

  The truck continued its task of garbage collection. There was a pounding sound as a full dumpster emptied into the truck. Jaden leapt clear of the falling refuse. An idea came to him. Trudging over the stinky assortment of dirty diapers, rotten food, and bloody wads, Jaden grabbed the dumpster lid and was flung into the cavernous metal box as it was lowered to the ground. He remained hidden until the lumbering engine of the garbage truck faded away. When he was sure no one was looking, Jaden jumped out.

  The dumpster stood in an apartment complex. Jaden checked his watch for the time. It was ten in the morning. He breathed through his mouth to avoid his stench. It was a giveaway he didn’t belong here. His noxious odor would attract even more attention. Worse, California weather was still warm in October, which he now remembered. Covered in slime and excrement, and simmering in his own sweat, Jaden wasn’t so much a person as he was an awful experience with its own terrible orbit of stench.

  He couldn’t remove his sweatshirt, now stained and soaked with mysterious substances, because he didn’t want anyone to see his tattoo or the plastic cuffs around both his wrists. The collar was bad enough.

  Thankfully it was a weekday so most adults were at work, most children at school. If Jaden kept to the residential areas of town, he should avoid most eyes.

  Joseph’s next move would have to be more subtle. Jaden demonstrated he was not going back without a fight. Any men sent to pursue him would be heedful. Hadn’t Sam always said it would be dangerous for everyone else “out there” if Jaden was freed? Jaden saw his point.

  The world was an arsenal of improvisational weapons. Without anyone to hold him back, he could literally do anything. He was unstoppable; the helicopter and SUV stunt had proven that. No one out here could control him…

  Yet Jaden knew Joseph had done something to him that he wasn’t completely aware of. All those times when he had beeen standing in one moment, and lying down in another... Chunks of his life were missing, and he knew Joseph had something to do with it. There were methods of control Jaden couldn’t fathom.

  He trudged on, staying to the outside of town, watching out the corner of his eyes for anyone who noticed him.

  By one in the afternoon, Jaden was exhausted. He reminded himself this was nothing to be ashamed of, that for the past two years exercise had been a punishable offense. The sun, which he was happy to see and feel, beat down on him, producing more sweat, intensifying his stickiness and smell. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but the odor steaming from his body made him feel sick. Jaden walked faster, though he wasn’t sure where he was going.

  Around two in the afternoon, he saw orange school busses traveling the roads. Jaden followed one past the edge of town.

  He walked along the side of the road past small vineyards. The trees in the road’s center divide had gold flecked red leaves. The smooth rolling hills in the distance were blonde. Jaden loved the openness of this town, how, no matter where you were, you could always see miles and miles into the countryside.

  The school bus was gone, a gaggle of students walked into a neighborhood ahead of him. Jaden wanted to get closer to see their faces. From here they looked his age, young high schoolers home from a day of studying. He didn’t run to catch up. Though he wanted to watch them, he must observe from a distance.

  He turned into the little subdivision. There was another vineyard here, and the sidewalk was lined with trees kissed by fall: orange and yellow leaves spiraled to the dirt and tapped the ground. Jaden crunched a few that had fallen days ago.

  A young couple on the other side of the road pushed a baby stroller. The father walked beside the mother with a chocolate Labrador. They chatted quietly about something.

  Jaden ran across the street to follow a couple of girls, who walked along in flip flops, giggling. One was tall and wore short jean shorts and a red tank-top. She was tan and had pretty brown hair. Her friend was shorter, thinner, and wore skin tight pants and a yellow t-shirt. He wanted to see their faces, but found himself hypnotized by their swinging backsides, entranced by their movements. Girls had changed so much in six years.

  His surroundings forgotten, Jaden followed them, watching them move, amazed. He wasn’t sure how long he tailed them, and it didn’t matter. They both disappeared into a house and he sighed in disappointment.

  With the girls gone, Jaden looked around at the neighborhood. He didn’t belong in this place, it was so clean and trimmed. It reminded him of where the Kauffmans lived. Green lawns, weedless sidewalks, sapling trees, and large houses. As he walked through the little community, he noticed a man pick up a newspaper then trot across the street into a different house.

  Jaden paused. Either that man stole a newspaper late in the afternoon, or the house was temporarily unoccupied. No lights were on, but then it was bright outside. There were no cars in the driveway. Maybe they were in the garage.

  He walked up the path and stepped under the porch. His mind wandered through the house, and he felt no living person or thing inside. To be sure, Jaden pushed the button for the door bell and waited. No one came. He pushed it again with the same result.

  After scanning the streets and neighboring houses, he determined that no one was looking at him or the empty house. With his back to the door, Jaden unlocked and opened it. He slid inside and shut it behind him, locking it.

  The hous
e was bigger than he expected. It had high ceilings, rounded corners on the soft yellow walls, crown molding, and dark hardwood floors. Jaden walked through the downstairs hallway. There was a lavishly decorated dining room which opened into a gourmet kitchen with black cabinets and brushed metal appliances. A big flat screen TV was mounted to the wall in the living room with an L shaped couch surrounding it.

  In the garage was one car, a black Mercedes coupe, but the second car was obviously missing: there were oil stains on the cement floor. Before exploring upstairs, Jaden searched the living and dining rooms for a wall calendar. The calendar, showcasing Japanese gardens, had the dates of this week and coming weekend blocked off. “Disneyworld and Universal” were the only words written in for the week. Vacation.

  Jaden sighed and went upstairs. He glanced at the framed photos on the wall, but first things first. He found the master bedroom and bathroom.

  The entire bathroom was tiled, even the walls. There were his and her sinks, a shower, and an opulent bathtub which was situated under frosted windows, which looked out onto the rolling hills.

  Jaden shut the door and could have cried with the sheer pleasure of privacy. No one would watch him wash, no one would see him strip to nothing. He was in a proper bathroom. Finally.

  He peeled off the layers of grimy clothes. The shower doors slid back without his touch and he stepped inside. Brass handles turned and the water jetted from the spout above. It was hot water, not lukewarm. Hot. Steaming off his skin.

  Thirty minutes seemed a good time to spend in the shower, washing and rewashing, enjoying the hot water, the way the soap bubbled and frothed. The heat washed some of the tension and tightness out of his muscles, relaxing him into a pleasant stupor. He rinsed his hair and body and turned off the shower, letting the remaining water drip off his nose and roll down his chest.

  A plush blue towel hung from the rack; he used it to pat himself dry. The towel was feather soft. He wrapped it around his hips as he wiped condensation off the mirror above the sink. Jaden saw the shock collar around his reflected neck and reached up to touch it.