by Jessica Kapp
“Load her up,” a voice calls from inside the vehicle. He sounds excited—happy, even.
“Do you have the body?” Lab Coat asks.
Body? I can’t wait any longer. I have to get out of here. I open my eyes all the way and try to sit up so I can jump off the gurney, but it’s a bust. My neck barely moves.
Scrubs turns in shock. “What the hell?”
“They must not have given her enough anesthesia,” says Lab Coat. “Redheads usually require more.”
Scrubs presses down on my shoulders, and the guy in the van jumps out. He’s short and thick, like a potato. “Come on! We’ve gotta get out of here!” He scoops me up, and Lab Coat takes something wrapped in a white blanket out of the van before I’m placed sideways on the floor behind the last row of seats.
The doors slam shut.
I’m cold and cramped, but I’m conscious. When the tires squeal, I try to wiggle my foot. I need to get up if I’m going to get away. If I’m going to live.
I’m fighting with my limbs when Lab Coat climbs over the back seat. He crouches down next to my head, careful not to step on my hair.
“It’ll all be over soon,” he says, clutching his knees to his chest and glancing out the back window nervously. I use this time to size him up. The Center trained us in case we were ever in danger. His jaw looks strong and would probably break my hand, but I might be able to strike him hard enough with my elbow. I try to muster the strength in my arms so I can be ready. Wherever we’re going, it can’t be good.
The van swerves sharply and my cheek connects with his shoe.
I groan and the guy lifts my head, placing it between his feet like they’re bookends. “Sorry about that.” He looks toward the front. “Adrian, try to be a little more careful, will ya?” Turning back to me, he says, “He just got his license.”
My eyes grow wide and he laughs.
“That was a joke. At least I know you’re coming to.” We’re looking at each other upside down, but he must see fear and confusion on my face. He presses his lips together, hard enough to make the pink fade. “You were drugged. They were about to slice you open.”
“What?” Or at least, a garbled form of the word comes out. It’s like there are rocks in my throat. I hardly recognize my own voice. The words drugged and sliced echo in my head, but they might as well be gibberish because nothing makes sense right now. My brain feels as useless as my limbs, fuzzy like a TV that can’t find the signal.
One of my tests was abnormal. We stopped by the hospital to retake it. I don’t know who these people are or why I’m in the back of a van.
All I want is to see the family who agreed to foster me.
“That’s what happens at the Center,” he says, his voice sympathetic. “You’re raised for one purpose.”
I try to shake my head, and my cheeks rub against his sneakers.
“Look, you don’t need to hear the gory details right now. You’ve been through a lot. We were hoping you wouldn’t wake up until we got to the safe house. I’m sure all this sounds terrifying.”
My eyes sting. If he only knew.
He pats me on the head like a dog and climbs back over the seat. I want to grab his ankle, but my arm doesn’t cooperate. Don’t leave! I need answers! What safe house? Where’s my family?
The second he’s out of sight I start to cry. At least my tear ducts are working.
• • •
The rear door opens and I stay still, my eyes closed, waiting.
When someone reaches for my waist, I ram my palm into his face.
“What the—!” the guy says, stumbling back.
I sit up and whip my legs over the ledge of the van. My knees almost buckle when I hop out, but I manage to hold my stance, glowering at my captors. Intimidation might be my only weapon right now.
“I guess the medication wore off,” Lab Coat says. Now, however, he’s lost the white jacket, revealing jeans and a wrinkly navy T-shirt.
The driver he called Adrian curses and wipes his nose with his sleeve. There’s a steady trickle of blood coming from his nostrils and his eyes are glossy. He walks toward a big red barn and slides one of the wooden doors open, pinching his nose.
Scrubs must not have ridden with us. That makes my job easier. One down, one to go.
My arms wobble as I bring my hands in front of my face.
“Easy there, tiger,” Lab Coat says.
“Where the hell am I?” My voice sounds old and scratchy.
“You’re safe now. They’re not going to hurt you.”
“They?”
“The doctors—” He rubs his mouth as if to wipe the rest of the words away. “Let’s go inside and talk about this.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say. He steps toward me and I bounce on my heels, bracing for a fight. “I know what you want with me. You and your friends are sick.”
His eyebrows mash together. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“First of all,” he says, stepping forward and extending a hand. “My name’s Gavin Stiles.” I give him a nod, but keep my fists tight. “Fine.” He shrugs. “Have it your way.”
“My way? Exactly how is being kidnapped my way?”
He folds his arms, the sleeves of his shirt tightening around his muscles. He catches me staring and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. I refocus, adjusting my stance.
“You weren’t kidnapped. You were rescued. And if you’d stop trying to fight me and listen,” he says, uncrossing his arms to press down on my hands, “you’d see we’re here to help.”
When he lets go, my fists pop back up. I should hit him, but I don’t. Ms. Preen’s evil grin flashes in my memory. She gave me a caramel. It knocked me out. That’s the last thing I remember before…
Is he telling the truth?
My hands start to drop as Gavin turns toward the barn. He waves without looking back. “Come on.”
My first instinct is to run. I look around, but there’s nothing but a field of tall grass and trees that barricade the land like the walls outside the Center. I’ve gone from one holding cell to another. But here I don’t have any friends.
“You coming?” he hollers. He’s in the barn now and I am on my own. Free to decide my fate.
Only I don’t know where to go. And what if he’s right?
Crap.
As I walk toward the barn, and possibly death, I realize I’m barefoot. The dirt is cool and mixed with bits of the gravel driveway. When I step inside the red building, hay cushions the floor.
Gavin holds onto a metal loop, propping open a hatch that leads underground.
“You want me to go down there?” I ask, pointing.
“I know this is overwhelming, but you’ll be safe here. Trust me.”
A car tears through the driveway, braking just before it hits the barn. A plume of dust surrounds us and Gavin drops the hatch with a clang. Before I can blink, he has a hand around my waist and one over my mouth. I open wide to get some skin between my teeth.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
I hear the car doors shut, followed by the sound of laughter. Gavin lets go and shoves me forward so he can step out. I have to catch myself from falling over.
“Are you trying to kill us?” Gavin says to the two guys approaching.
“Relax, we were just having a little fun,” one of them says, putting a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. I recognize him as Scrubs, the blond from the hospital who helped wheel me out. Or, at least pretended to help.
Gavin shrugs him off. “Rescue missions aren’t a sport, Ry. We’re not here to have fun.”
“My bad,” Ry says as he holds up his hands in defense. When he sees me, the apologetic face transforms. He swaggers over squinting as he assesses me. His blue eyes flicker with excitement.
“It’s good to see you up and about.” He leans on the same stall door my body is pressed again
st and crosses one leg over the other. I could easily kick his legs out from under him. His jeans are a deep blue and his hair is shiny. I want to touch it, to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Everything about him screams that he belongs on the cover of Gladstone Community Review.
“I’m Reilly,” he says, “but everyone calls me Ry.” He extends a hand.
“Tabitha.” I reach out, too late to remember I just shunned Gavin’s handshake. I curse myself for falling for Ry’s schmoozing charm, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Gavin smirk. I begin to wonder if I’ve been shaking Ry’s hand too long when I hear a metal door creak open. The guy who drove is already on his way down through the hatch in the floor.
Ry lets go and bends to a bow, brushing the air with his hand. “Shall we?”
The ominous opening stares back at me, tempting me with its dark secrets. I guess there’s only one way to find out what those secrets are.
I have to go down the hole.
Chapter 5
I glance over the edge. A ladder leads down to a room with a cement floor, and the smell of rotting wood and rust wafts up through the hatch. I turn my face away and take a breath, filling my lungs with clean air before heading into the thick stench.
As I descend, something beeps and I glance over my shoulder. Equipment lines the wall above the counter where two guys are fiddling with a radio. The room is longer than it is wide, more of a hallway. At the far end, I spot a decaying door that looks like the entrance to a haunted house. Despite the creepy vibe, there’s electricity, making the room feel much brighter than it should.
Ry comes down and stands next to me at the bottom. The hatch closes, and I look up as Gavin pushes Ry’s head with his shoe, shoving him to the side so he has room to drop.
“This way,” Gavin says, stepping in front of us. He stops for a moment to look back and says mockingly, “Tabitha, was it?” He puts a hand on the shoulder of one of the radio workers, the guy Ry rode with. “This is Craig.”
Craig stands so tall his hair would probably sweep the ceiling if he had any. He has the upper body of a swimmer, and his skin is a deep brown, darker than Gavin’s. Craig grins and gives me a quick wave. He has the same playful look as Ry—approachable and picture perfect.
“And you remember Adrian?” Gavin adds, patting the van driver’s back. Adrian’s nose is red, and there’s a dried ring of blood around one of his nostrils.
“What happened to him?” Ry whispers to Gavin when we reach the door at the other end.
“He smelled a fist,” Gavin says, the lilt in his voice reveals his amusement.
“Maybe I should apologize,” I say.
“Give him some time to cool down,” Gavin says. “He understands.” He opens the door for me, and with a softer tone adds, “We all do. This is a lot to take in.”
We enter a square room that feels moist and dirty. The lights are sparse, condensed mostly over the eating area, and there are bunk beds lining the walls. A few people are playing cards in the center, and they stop and stand when we approach, eyes wide with wonder. “They didn’t sedate her?” a boy with shoulder-length hair asks.
“Apparently not enough,” is all Gavin says before introducing me, rattling off their names as he points. Everyone’s smiling except for the girl with frosty white hair. Her scowl says I’m not welcome, and my fists tighten involuntarily. I want to tell her I don’t want to be here either. I want to be with my family. The one I was supposed to meet today.
The one Gavin claims doesn’t exist.
Gavin leads me toward the bunks that share a wall with the hallway. The air is cold, and I shiver. I’m still wearing my Center clothes, and the hairs on my arms stand, searching for warmth. I guess I should be grateful I’m not in a hospital gown.
Next to the bed is a wooden cabinet with doors that don’t quite line up, like a poorly buttoned shirt. Gavin opens it and grabs a pillow, blanket, clothes, and socks, tossing them at me without looking.
“Size seven shoe?” he asks. I throw the items on the bed to free my hands before he can launch the shoes.
“Eight.”
“The closest I have is a seven.” To my surprise, he hands them to me, a pair of beat up sneakers caked with dirt. I slap the shoes together and sit on the bottom bunk to put them on. The socks are too big and the shoes are tight, but they’re broken in enough to the point where they don’t pinch my toes. It’s better than nothing.
I adjust my laces. One of the card players laughs and another swears as they continue their game. There’s water running and the swooshing sound of broom bristles. It’s too normal, too calm compared to what I’m feeling. All of my questions start to surface.
“You said I was saved…from what exactly?”
Gavin rubs the back of his neck and turns his face as he works a muscle in his jaw. He stares at Ry, who’s poking around the kitchen. There’s a small refrigerator on the floor and a long table holding a bucket full of dishes. Food lines the shelf above the sink, but the wood is bowed, like it will collapse if someone adds one more can of green beans. I can relate. I’m about to break as well.
“Well?” I say more forcefully.
“You weren’t fostered. You were raised for parts,” Gavin says. “The Centers are owned by PharmPerfect, the biggest drug company in the west, possibly the world. They use the Centers as a front, claiming to help foster kids. But they don’t.” He takes a deep breath, but his words sound muffled as he continues, like my ears are stuffed with cotton balls. “They kept you healthy and fit so you could be harvested for organs.”
“No. That’s absurd. Why would they—”
“Cloned organs are unreliable and lab-grown parts fail. People don’t want to pay for lungs that will only last a year or two.”
“What does that have to do with medicine?”
“PharmPerfect needs healthy livers, among other parts. If patients can’t take pills, business drops.”
I stand so the weight of his words don’t break me, but I’m dizzy and have to grab the top bunk to brace myself.
“You all right?” Gavin asks, his hand quick to find my elbow.
“Of course not!” I jerk my arm away. “I think I’m going to be sick.” My eyes flash to a bucket that’s sitting next to the cabinet, and he hands it to me. I hug the pail between my thighs when I sit back down.
“They were minutes away from operating on you.”
I shake my head. “It can’t be true. It just can’t.”
“You think we brought you here to be our housekeeper?”
I lift my chin. “I think you have some sick plan to hold me for ransom. That’s what I think.” I try to slow my breathing so I can focus. “Where’s my family?”
Gavin shuts the cabinet door, but it drifts back open and this time he holds it closed. “There is no family.” He glares at the cabinet when he lets go. It creaks open an inch and stops. It must be as scared of him as I am. “We’re here to help you. If you don’t believe us, you can leave. But the moment you step off this property,” he motions with his head, “you’re on your own. PharmPerfect practically owns this island. They bought half the land and invested in most of the infrastructure. Beyond the records at the Center, you don’t exist. They’re the only ones who know who you are, and they’ll be looking for you, but you’ll be safe here.”
He walks away, probably so I have time to absorb his words. I don’t even know where to start, so it might be a while.
Is that what happened to Wes? Parker’s lifting buddy was the last to be fostered. He never came back to visit. None of them did.
My stomach turns as I sit on the bed, contemplating how simple life seemed twenty-four hours ago. I bury my face in the pail as the bile creeps up my throat.
Parts. I was being raised for parts.
I stay with my head down until I hear feet shuffling toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small girl approaching. I try to remember what Gavin said her name was. Marcy? Mabel? She sits next to me, and her little hand
rubs my back as I stare at the bottom of the pail.
“You’re going to be all right now,” she says. “They can’t use you anymore.”
I lift my head and stifle a gasp when I meet her eyes. They’re pale blue, wide, and inquisitive, but something’s off. The symmetry’s been broken. I look closer at her right eye and notice there’s no curvature, no peak—like it’s been ironed flat.
She plays with a lock of hair, shielding her eye with it. I pull her hand down gently. “What happened? Did someone…” I can’t even finish the sentence before my voice cracks.
She nods as she pulls the doll she’s holding to her chest.
“They were trying to take your eye?”
“They don’t actually need your eye. Just the cornea.” She points and I lean closer, taking in the rest of her as well. Despite her fancy dress, she has long stringy hair that’s in desperate need of a brush. Her face is dirty, but sweet.
“Can you…see out of it?”
“It’s blurry, but yeah. Sort of.” She gestures to her back. “They also took one of my kidneys.” A chill runs through me, and she grabs my hand as if she can feel it too. “It could have been worse. At least I’m still alive. We both are.”
Guilt settles in my stomach along with all the rest of my emotions. She must be half my age. If anything, I should be comforting her. I flip my hand over and give hers a quick squeeze. She hasn’t just lost parts of her body; she’s lost her childhood. At least I got to live with the illusion that there was a family waiting for me a little longer.
“I’m Mary,” she reminds me.
“Tabitha,” I say. “I like your dress.” I run the fabric between my fingers. It’s thick and there are little white flowers embroidered on the skirt. “It’s very pretty.”
“Gavin got it for me,” she says, waving at him. Gavin stands in the kitchen next to Ry, who’s eating fruit out of a can. Ry is doing all the talking. Gavin’s arms are folded, but he finds a way to wave back. Our eyes meet and there’s a moment of stillness. He offers a small smile that I would have thought was meant for Mary, but he’s still looking at me. I avert my gaze. After I apologize to Adrian, I should tell Gavin I’m sorry for snapping at him.