Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  He nodded. Before she left, he asked one more favor. “Can I borrow some scissors and a razor?” The doctor and nurse at the hospital had seen him with his beard and long hair, two things that needed to go immediately.

  Libby brought him a pair of sharp scissors and a new razor, then showed him into the downstairs bathroom. She also gave him an old magazine. “For the photos,” she said. “If you need ideas for a style.”

  When he was alone in the bathroom (painted a soft tan) Jaden closed his eyes and leaned against a wall, trying to grasp his situation. Everything was about to change. In a few days he would leave Washington forever and run to a new place to start a new life. What he would do once he got there, he did not know. To stave off panic, Jaden prioritized his thoughts. The first thing was simple: cut his hair, shave his beard. He had to keep things simple to keep his emotions in check.

  His reflection stared at him: tired gray eyes, long hair and beard obscuring most of his face. A sense of fear stole over him as he held the scissors. Not only had he been hiding from Joseph and Archcroft, he’d hidden from himself. Years had passed without Jaden seeing his own face. His beard and long hair acted as a shield, protecting his identity. Cutting it was disarming, but necessary.

  With a deep breath, Jaden cut off a chunk of hair and pitched it in the trash. Then another, and another, until most of it was in a can under the sink. He tried making it even, and didn’t cut it short. When he was finished, his hair fell in bangs to his forehead, came halfway down his ears and brushed the collar of his shirt at the back. He was careful not to make it a mullet. Ignorant as he was about style, he was not a total fool.

  Grabbing his beard in his left hand, Jaden cut until it was too close to his face to cut any more. Libby had left shaving cream on the bathroom sink. It was in a pink can and, as he squirt some onto his hand, it smelled like flowers. Jaden wet his face and applied the cream, working up a thick lather. He was about to complete his transformation.

  Jaden splashed his face with cool water when he was sure it was done, dabbing at his smooth skin with a hand towel. The process had taken longer than he’d anticipated. Then again, the last time he’d shaved there had been little to remove.

  The tormented boy was still there, haunting the lines around the eyes, pulling down the mouth. But it was a young man who watched Jaden now: a strong jaw, square chin, high cheekbones and a straight, thin nose. He rumpled his shiny black hair, quite surprised with how he had turned out. Not bad at all.

  He ran three fingers under his jaw to his neck, where the not-long-enough scar reminded him of an attempt on his own life, and the circular burn marks from the electric collar: scars he wrongly assumed would vanish.

  He made a promise to himself: if he couldn’t outrun Madrid, if he was trapped and cornered, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Next time, if it came to it, the suicide would complete, and Jaden would leave this world on his own terms and not be a slave to anyone.

  He collected the stray hairs on the floor and tossed them in the trash, not wanting Libby to regret taking him in because he left a mess. Then he opened the door and walked down the hall to find Libby grilling peppers and toasting bread in the kitchen. She glanced at him as she diced onions, then looked again.

  For the second time since meeting her, Jaden fought a smile. But it was the first time he noticed and felt her heart pound in her chest, and as he watched her watching him, the wasps in his stomach transformed into ladybugs, tickling instead of stinging. Her freckled cheeks blushed. He knew he wasn’t the only one fighting a grin.

  “You shaved,” she said, suddenly making herself busy, flipping the peppers in the pan, popping toast from the toaster.

  “Yes. It was time.”

  Her heart thrummed. It made him smile.

  She placed the peppers on the toast, drizzling them with dressing, then added spiced chicken, lettuce and provolone cheese.

  “Looks better,” she remarked, keeping her eyes on the plates.

  Jaden put his hands in his pockets and smirked at her. “You think so?”

  “I do. Before it looked like you were hiding, or that maybe you’d killed a little girl with your big black Ford,” she said casually as she cut the sandwiches.

  “What?” he asked, alarmed.

  She flickered her eyes to his. “Movie. Didn’t see it?”

  He shook his head, frowning.

  “It was an independent film,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Although there are similarities between the faces,” she said, gesturing at his face. “It’s not important. I made three sandwiches for you, is that enough? I also have a bag of potato chips that I’d love for you to finish off so I won’t be tempted to.” She took a bag of chips from her pantry and handed them to him. “It’d be a huge favor to my thighs if you ate those.”

  They sat at the dining table. Libby poured him a glass of lemonade, then one for herself. She bowed her head for a moment then crossed herself before draping the napkin over her lap. He felt gluttonous as he ate his way through the meal she had obviously put time into.

  “Good?” she asked, smirking at him.

  “Mmmm,” he said, nodding. It was only later, after he finished the last sandwich, his stomach praising him with songs and dances, that he registered he was sharing a meal with someone else.

  “So, you pack away how many calories a day, do you think?” she asked, taking a sip of lemonade.

  “Maybe seven to eight thousand.”

  “Shut up,” she said.

  He unwrapped the bag of chips and ate his way through them, granting Libby’s wish. They were kettle barbecue. He could see why she wanted to give them away, as he imagined they were highly addicting.

  “You eat all those calories and look like that, all lean with no ounce of fat on you?” she said.

  “Right,” Jaden replied.

  “That’s really annoying,” she said. Libby put her dish in the washer then refilled her glass of lemonade and topped off his. When she sat back down, she put her arms on the table, holding her chin in a hand.

  “You ride horses?” he asked her.

  “Yeah,” she said smiling. “It’s a scream.” She fiddled with a fork then dropped it. “Okay, look, I can’t take it anymore. Please tell me the reason these people are after you. I’m dying here.”

  Jaden set the empty bag on the table and wiped his fingers. He wanted to lick them first, but thought it might be rude.

  She had a right to know why Archcroft hunted him, especially now he was staying in her house, possibly risking her own safety.

  “You can’t wait any longer?” he asked.

  “That’s impossible. It’s been killing me since I saw the tattoo on your arm in the hospital this morning. It’s practically all I could think about the whole way here.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m cursed with excessive honesty. Might as well get that out now,” she said.

  “All right,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes. “I’ll tell you. But you have to keep this between us.”

  “Okay,” she said, scooting her chair closer to the table, leaning her body in.

  Jaden thought a little about the reveal, but was afraid it would lead to more questions, like the how and when. If he was on the other side of this table, he would want to know. Quite honestly, a part of him wanted Libby to know the truth. Sharing with one person, someone who already had an inkling of understanding, might be liberating. Or terrifying. He walked a pencil-thin line, parts of it already erased.

  “I am,” Jaden began, chewing on his tongue for a second. “I...can’t believe I’m doing this.” He took a long drink of lemonade, choking a little as it went down, his face red and eyes watery.

  “If I had tequila I’d offer it to you,” she said. “But I don’t. We’ll have to go to for the ‘It’s the thought that counts’ mantra on this one.”

  He couldn’t help it, he smiled at her, a small smile that lightly touched his eyes. “Fair enough,” he
mumbled. “I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Oh,” she said. “You’ve heard the story about the Band-Aid, right?” she said.

  “Band-Aid?”

  “Yeah, about ripping it off quickly.”

  Jaden smiled again. “Yes, I know that one. So here it goes,” Jaden said, taking a deep breath. “I’m psychokinetic,” he said, the word fat on his mouth. He understood why Dalton and Madrid referred to it as “PK” instead. Psychokinetic. It was a crazy word. Libby might think he just announced he was insane.

  “Psychokinetic?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “You move things with your mind?” she said, insincerity in her tone.

  “Yes,” Jaden said, amused with her disbelief instead of irritated. Before his underground incarceration, Jaden tried everything to hide his secret. When it came out of him he made excuses, even if the people around him didn’t believe him. Now that he wasn’t running from the truth, she doubted him. It was a funny sort of irony.

  “You can move things. With your mind,” she said again. “Like a Jedi Knight.”

  Jaden sat up in his chair. “Exactly like a Jedi Knight.”

  “So you’re saying you’re like Yoda, only taller, less green, and without the backwards talk,” Libby said.

  Jaden nodded to himself. “Yes, and no hair in my ears,” he added.

  “Right, but other than that, you’re all powerful and move rocks and X-wing fighters with the lift of a finger.” She looked at him sideways, a doubting but playful curl to her lips.

  “You don’t believe me,” Jaden said.

  Libby leaned back. “What gave me away? My tone or my body language?”

  “Both,” Jaden said. “I’m serious, though. I don’t have an international organization chasing me because I can eat a lot without gaining weight.”

  “Well I’d study you for that,” Libby said, taking another long drink. “But no, I’m having a hard time picturing it.”

  The difference between Libby and the people of Archcroft was so dynamic it thrilled him. He was actually glad to have a chance to prove his ability to her, and he couldn’t wait to see the stunned amazement on her face.

  “Okay,” Jaden said, scanning the room, preparing a show. “You want to see?”

  She grinned. “Absolutely I do.”

  “Fine,” Jaden said, smirking at her. “You’ll understand if I close the shutters, to keep it private?”

  “Oh totally,” she said, waving a hand at him.

  Without lifting a finger, sitting calmly in his chair, and staring into her blue eyes, the window louvers tilted shut, dimming the room.

  Libby’s knowing grin slid off her face.

  “Maybe a light now it’s darker,” Jaden said, and a light flicked on above them.

  Libby stared, her gaze solid and purposeful, her disbelief gone.

  Jaden picked up (with his hand) a fork Libby used to eat her salad. He held it at arm’s length then released, but the fork did not drop, it hovered above the table, and as Jaden lowered his hand to his knee, the fork spun, its neck the axis. First it spun slowly, then gradually gained speed, until it was a silver blur, whirring in the air.

  Then it stopped, and Jaden tapped the prongs with his index finger, and the fork teetered on its axis. He looked over it to Libby, who stared, her mouth gaping. She peeked at him over the fork, and he nodded, encouraging her.

  Libby extended her hand under the fork then above it, as if checking for invisible wires. She picked the fork from the air, held it, then tossed it high. Instead of falling with a clatter, it tumbled gracefully to its original position, two feet above the table’s surface.

  “That’s incredible,” she said breathlessly.

  “You’re not unique in that thought,” Jaden said, lowering the fork to the table, opening the louvers and shutting off the light above them.

  “How can you do that? I thought it was impossible.” She took the fork in her hands, staring at it like it was cast in platinum.

  Her question was the natural one, he knew it would come. It was a question he could not answer. No one had explained the how to Jaden, only the why. The things he had done seemed unimaginable, he still wondered how he controlled things he couldn’t physically touch.

  “I don’t know,” Jaden said. “No one told me how.”

  “You have this power naturally?” she asked.

  “I think so. It must have always been there,” Jaden said, his eyes on the table. “It came when I needed it, then never went away. It got stronger and out of my control.”

  “You’ve got it under control now,” Libby said, almost laughing.

  Jaden nodded, thinking of the way he learned, how they chained and threatened him with a gun. Shocking him when he was disobedient, shoving a rubber tube down his throat when he refused to eat, denying him basic human dignity. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could take the memories out of his head and bury them somewhere else.

  “Are you okay?” Libby asked.

  They knew where he was now, those men and women who locked him away all those years ago. Even though he was an adult, Jaden felt small: the little boy in the corner, his only private place, rocking himself with his eyes screwed shut. What good was it to possess such power if people out there could control him so easily?

  twenty-six

  Getting away was simple. Having stayed awake most of the night, Jaden was exhausted. His brief sleep in the hospital had given him a boost of temporary energy, but adrenaline only took him so far. Libby understood and insisted she had work to do. After showing him to his room, she went back to her office, presumably to work.

  The guest room was small and secure. Once Jaden closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, a sense of ease fell over him. Archcroft would never think to look for him here. He was far enough from the city, yet hadn’t left the state. The chances of them even searching this side of the water were slim.

  But his feeling of wishful security didn’t put his mind completely at peace.

  After fleeing San Francisco he only saw the Archcroft team once during the helicopter chase. Jaden always suspected that sooner or later they would find him, or at least step up the manhunt.

  Archcroft was in the open, not clandestine. Libby said it was an international organization, but not as large or powerful as a branch of government. What kind of resources did they have to recapture him? As far as Jaden knew, Joseph Madrid was the only one who could control him. Otherwise Jaden was practically invincible.

  The wires in his head. Why were there wires in his head and how did they get there? The doctor and nurse he incapacitated this morning were examining an X-ray image of his head. Was that how Madrid kept him under control?

  His mind. The last of his rules—never showing emotion to keep his thoughts and mind private—had been violated. Madrid literally penetrated his brain, a mental raping of his sense of self. His insides squirmed when he thought of it. In hindsight, Jaden realized he had given Madrid control when he lost the battle of wills. Overwhelming pain and humiliation were Madrid’s weapons, and Jaden’s only defense was turned against him. In the end, Jaden had given everything, and Madrid had taken Jaden’s mind as the spoils of war.

  What was he to do with this level of outrage? He fumed in that bedroom, skin hot and jaw clenched. What sort of outlet did he have? Destroying Libby’s things would be a futile pastime. There was nothing he could destroy that would assuage this feeling of injustice. Ripping a bed from the floor, trying to break a mirror with it... His rages of the past had never been productive.

  He stared into the face of an electrical outlet, vexed and frustrated. He had forgotten how to deal with this level of emotion, or had trained himself too well in coping. Jaden felt defeated.

  From the inside of his backpack, Jaden withdrew the Ruger, the gun he’d stolen when he first arrived in Seattle ten years before. There was only one cartridge inside. The simple pull of a trigger would ensure Madrid never controlled him again. It would ensure a lot of other things, to
o.

  He couldn’t do himself in yet. What a way to repay Libby for her hospitality, having to wipe his brains off her walls and dump his body. But if Madrid got too close he would do it. If he couldn’t shoot Madrid first, he’d pull the trigger on his own brain. End it all. For now, his mind wandered over the other things...

  There were the large chunks of lost time during those days Madrid lorded over him. One second he had been standing, the next lying down, and vice versa. It had alarmed him, and it petrified him now. Were the wires in his head the mechanism of control, the reason for the blackouts? Had they tampered with his mind to strengthen their level of dominance?

  He felt dirty, used. They’d put something in his head. Dehumanizing him by locking him away from the rest of the world, ordering him around like a dog, treating him like a work mule—that wasn’t enough. They threaded a contraption into his brain to completely muzzle him.

  Taking the hit last night knocked whatever it was out of place. The piercing headache and dramatic fainting spell of this morning were both due to the wires in his brain. It seemed they had righted themselves while he was unconscious.

  Jaden removed his shoes and lay in bed. The summer light beamed through the window, making the room bright. As a child he used to stare at the ceiling and wonder how he was going to escape. And here he was again, an adult wondering the exact same thing.

  Dried drool formed a crust on his right cheek. Jaden scratched it away, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, as he tried remembering where he was. Oh, right.

  A shiver went down his spine. He tried ignoring it. In a few days, after Archcroft had moved out of Seattle, pursuing Jaden’s phantom, he’d leave. Optimism didn’t come naturally, though...

  It was probably early afternoon. He looked outside for the sun, trying to gage the time, when he saw Libby in the pasture.

  She wore skin tight blue breaches with leather patches on the insides of the knees, and a pink racer back tank top. Her auburn and brown hair was pulled back loosely in a ponytail, but a few strands of hair blew about her face.