The Rogue Spark series Box Set Page 2

  “But I’ve never—”

  “You have to take some punches. Show the bullies that you’re tough.” I crossed my arms.

  “I’ve taken my share of punches already.”

  “So if you’re going to get hit anyway, you might as well go down fighting, Reed.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “But what if they hurt me worse than if I stayed quiet?”

  “That’s a loser outlook. You’re going to fight back and show them you’re not just an easy target.” I opened my arms. “Look at me. Aim for the weak spots on a person: throat, eyes, and crotch. Behind the knees are tender, too.”

  He nodded and studied me.

  “Mirror me. See how I stand?” I spread my feet wider and bent my knees in a slight curve. “See how this makes me ready to spring like a coil? I’m harder to push down and I can run away if I need to.”

  Reed cautiously bent his knees and widened his stance. He bobbed up and down. “I see what you mean.” A grin spread across his face.

  “Good. Now, raise your arms in front of you and make two fists,” I said, stepping closer.

  “Okay.” He pressed his lips together as he thrust his small fists up before his chest.

  “Go ahead and punch me.” I glanced around to make sure nobody in the yard was watching us.

  “Uh, you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s ok. Do it.”

  Reed pumped his lean arm forward, jabbing at my shoulder.

  “Not bad. Now go for the throat. Turn your fist like this when you hit.”

  He obeyed and threw his fist at my throat. I blocked it. “Good!” His eyes lit up with a newfound confidence.

  A shrill, static crackling pierced our concentration. The loudspeaker blared: “Attention, attention. Ida Sarek, report to Mr. Kilpatrick’s office at once.”

  All eyes in the yard shifted to me, and I straightened. Reed followed suit, pushing his glasses onto his nose.

  “Oh shit. Guess the fight caught up to me.”

  “What’ll happen to you?” Reed’s voice quivered.

  “Either I’m getting punished or booted out of here.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Check you later.” I started toward the building.

  “Ida, wait.” Reed jogged up to me. “What if I don’t see you again?”

  “Tough luck.”

  He frowned.

  “Hey, remember what I said. Stand tall. Take your punches. Go for the nuts.”

  He smirked. “Yeah. I’ll remember.”

  “Practice every day. Go behind the tree or to the wall and practice your punches. Every day. You’ll get stronger and build muscles.”

  “Okay.” He sighed.

  “Promise?”

  He nodded.

  I turned and strode away.

  “Hey Ida,” he called. “I’m going to find you one day when I’m grown.”

  Saluting him, I walked away and cursed the hollow pang inside my chest. Why did I care?

  That’s why I never got close to anyone.

  Everyone was temporary.

  Four

  “Sarek.” Kilpatrick greeted me in the hallway, a cold smile on his smarmy face. He gave me the creeps. Most heads of the Improvement Centers did. Managing a bunch of criminal, trouble-making kids and throwaway orphans wasn’t a career most upstanding people aspired to.

  “Let me guess, I’m leaving today? Happy birthday to me.”

  He smirked. “Yes, but it’s not what you think. You’re a lucky girl, that’s all I’ll say. Follow me.”

  I tried to process his strange comment as he accompanied me to my room. Why would yet another Improvement facility be lucky? Kilpatrick instructed me to collect my things. I kept my few belongings in an army green backpack for easy packing on just such an occasion.

  Then we began our march to his office.

  “Which Center are they sending me to this time?”

  He said nothing, and a broad smile spread across his face. He was glad to be getting rid of me. Same story as every adult I’d ever met.

  Kilpatrick opened the door and ushered me inside. A good-looking couple waited near the windows. The woman wore a cream-colored blouse, and her long brown hair fell elegantly around her shoulders. She approached with a large, warm smile. “Ida?” She extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  I tensed. Nobody had ever wanted to meet me. Who was she?

  “I have excellent news for you, Ida,” Kilpatrick said. “Go on, shake Mrs. Jensen’s hand. Be polite.” He jabbed me in the back with a long, bony finger.

  I grasped her smooth palm and found it surprisingly strong.

  “I’m Martha. This is Seth, my husband.” He smiled and stepped forward to greet me. “We’re taking you to our house in Connecticut,” she continued, beaming. “We’re your new foster parents. Foster for now, but we plan to become your permanent, adoptive parents.”

  I stared at Kilpatrick. “Is this a joke?”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now, now, Ida. You’re an incredibly lucky girl. Be a nice girl—”

  I recoiled from his touch, pulling away and reversing through the open door.

  “Excuse us for a moment,” he said to the Jensens and hurried after me into the hallway, closing the door behind us.

  “Now you listen to me.” He leaned in and grabbed my shoulder with surprising force, pinching my skin underneath. “Don’t you screw this up for me.” Spittle landed on my cheek. The veins on his temples looked ready to pop. “This nice couple wants to adopt you. Why? I’ve no freaking clue who’d want you, but they do.”

  He shoved me away me to straighten his shirt and tie. It jolted my bruised ribs, and I felt another stab of pain. I raised my chin and clenched my fists. “Screw you, Kilpatrick.”

  A cruel glint flashed in his eyes. “Put on your tough girl act all you want. After you leave here. If they come to their senses and return you, I’ll make your life a living hell here.” He leaned forward, inches from my face. “Do you understand?” he hissed.

  Despite my defiance, I felt the savagery in his voice and it unsettled me. I lowered my eyes and nodded. Was it possible this couple actually wanted to adopt me? But why not go for a younger girl?

  After Kilpatrick composed himself, we entered the room again.

  Martha and Seth wore faded smiles and fidgeted. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is wonderful,” said Kilpatrick, a little too brightly. “What do you have to say, Ida?”

  I shuffled my feet. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” Martha ventured forward and rested a hand on my shoulder. Her hair smelled like lilacs and she looked like a model who had stepped out of a magazine. In my faded camouflage jacket, combat boots, and torn jeans, I resembled a hoodlum.

  “The Jensens are psychologists,” said Kilpatrick. “Good thing they’ll know how to handle you,” he muttered under his breath.

  Martha gazed into my eyes. “You remind me of myself when I was your age. Wait until you see your new house, your bedroom. You’re going to love it.”

  This was all too much. Had I won the freaking lottery suddenly? Nothing good had ever happened to me before. There had to be a catch.

  Seth must have read my expression because he leaned forward and pulled Martha away. “Honey, give her time. This is a lot of change all at once.”

  She huddled against him. “I know, I’m just so excited to have her. Mr. Kilpatrick, thank you so much for making this happen.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he said, glaring at me with narrowed eyes. “Everything is in order. I’ll see you out.”

  As I followed Kilpatrick, I wondered how long it would take before this couple rejected me. Would they try to change me? Make me wear preppy clothes like Martha and floral-scented perfume? They held hands as we marched down the winding hallway to the front exit. My only family had been the kids in my gang. I never knew my mother and had no idea whether I had siblings. My earliest memories were crowded foster homes an
d a lack of food. Was this a chance for a new life? A normal life? Might I be part of a family?

  My eyes scanned the handsome, picture-perfect couple and rested on their interlocked hands. I spied a small, black tattoo at the base of Seth’s wrist barely visible under his suit jacket sleeve. It looked like a barcode. Was it some kind of ID? Strange. Didn’t Kilpatrick say they were psychologists? Why would he have a barcode stamped on his arm?

  Outside, we approached an air cruiser and my mouth dropped. Only the wealthy could afford the slick vehicles that soared above the crowded pedestrian-filled streets. I’d only ever been in one during my arrest when the cops threw me in the back of an NYPD squad flyer.

  We were in view of the rec yard and the kids had gathered at the fence to witness my departure. Reed caught my eye and offered a solemn wave, his face long. I winked before climbing into the cruiser. It felt damn good to show off to the others. But something nagged at me. This was just too perfect. Good things didn’t happen to girls like me.

  Inside the cruiser, the interior was plush, tan leather. I ran my palm along the smooth side panels and inhaled the scent of newness. Martha stared at me with narrowed eyes. She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers. I flushed. Had I pissed her off already?

  But then she smiled and beckoned me to sit in the backseat and buckle in. “Get comfortable. We have a long ride ahead.”

  Odd. I didn’t think Connecticut was that far from New York but what did I know about cruisers? As we lifted off into the sky, I peered down at the yard full of kids. “Good luck, Reed,” I mumbled as Woodlawn became a speck in the distance.

  Five

  We soared through low-lying clouds scattered across a monotonous, gray urban sprawl, then emerged above the billowy mist into clear blue skies. The flight was thrilling, like nothing I’d experienced before.

  I leaned forward to Seth and Martha in their pilot seats. “How high are we flying?” I grinned.

  They didn’t acknowledge me. I figured they didn’t hear me, so I repeated myself.

  Martha turned slightly but said nothing. Why were they ignoring me?

  I decided to shut up and not risk ruining my situation. Maybe they had reconsidered their decision to foster me after seeing younger, more presentable girls outside in the yard. They could still change course and drop me off at Woodlawn. Kilpatrick had said he’d make my life hell. I believed him. Seth raised his hand to his right ear and spoke into a comm. “Alpha-nine-nine, do you read?”

  I gazed down. The clouds had cleared below us, and I glimpsed a vast body of water. What the…? As far as I knew, there wasn’t a giant lake or ocean between upstate New York and Connecticut.

  I spoke up again. “Martha? Where in Connecticut are we going? What’s that water below us?”

  She swiveled to face me, her lips set in a tight line. She didn’t seem so pretty anymore, and her voice sounded less kind. “We’re not going to Connecticut. Just keep your mouth shut, sit quietly, and we’ll arrive at our destination soon enough.” She shifted to the front.

  My heart pounded, and I broke out in a cold sweat. Had they tricked me? Where the hell were we flying? I scanned the interior, searching for any clues as to what was happening. I spied several wide, metallic boxes fastened to the rear of the cabin. The words Frontier Medical Laboratory were emblazoned across them. Facing the front, I studied Martha and Seth in the cockpit. Hidden from view by shadows, two black rifles rested by their knees.

  I felt bile rising in my throat. This was no peaceful couple looking to adopt. I was in trouble. The tattoo on Seth’s wrist should have rung an alarm. Joanie had warned me not only to stay away from the police, but to watch out for mercenaries who were far worse. Hired guns, they were usually former cops or military, who did rich people’s dirty work. She’d said they’d even abducted kids she’d known from the streets.

  What do they want with kids? I had asked her.

  Human trafficking, child labor. There are monsters out there, Ida. You have to be careful. Trust no one.

  Shit. Had Kilpatrick sold me off? Paid someone to clean up a problem kid in his center? I should have struggled and thrown a fit in his office. But they would have taken someone else. Someone like Reed who couldn’t defend himself at all.

  I studied the door, eyeing the handle. I didn’t know the altitude. If I jumped, could I survive the impact with the water below? Slowly, I unfastened my seatbelt and guided it into its cradle without a sound. My pulse quickened. I would jump. If I died, so be it. At least I wouldn’t be sold into slavery.

  My fingers nestled around the door lever, poised. I stole a glance at Seth and Martha who seemed unaware. Then I rammed my shoulder hard into the door, gritting my teeth at the aching in my ribcage. I yanked on the handle and braced myself. It didn't budge.

  Locked.

  Martha craned her neck and looked at me in irritation, then reached down to her feet. My stomach dropped. They had trapped me inside. I needed a weapon. I slid out of my seat and onto my knees.

  She sat up with a small case and fumbled with something on her lap.

  I crawled to the rear cabin, searching under the seats, checking the walls for anything I could use to defend myself. An object rolled underneath my fingers. I grabbed it—a screwdriver.

  Just as I turned, Martha loomed above me, pointing a gun. I wrapped a fist around the screwdriver and jammed it into her foot.

  She shrieked. “You little bitch!” Then she pointed at me and fired. A feeling like a hot knife tore through my shoulder. I looked down at an enormous dart sticking out of me.

  The cabin spun out of control, and I hit the floor. I blacked out.

  I fell in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours.

  When I came to, I couldn’t move my limbs. Every muscle in my body was numb as if every part of me had fallen asleep at once. They had laid me horizontal on the backseat as Seth piloted the cruiser. The sun was lower on the horizon. I guessed we had traveled a long distance.

  Later, I woke as two men carried me out of the Jensen cruiser into what looked to be a large skyport. Martha limped as she climbed out of the aircraft. Good. I was glad I stabbed her, and I hoped it left permanent damage.

  I was still dizzy and barely able to move, but I pretended to be asleep, peeking out now and then. They brought me into the belly of an enormous jet cruiser meant for high speeds and intercontinental travel. Would I ever see New York City again?

  On board, I spied other victims. There were four other teens ranging from fourteen to seventeen. Blindfolded and inert, they must have been drugged too. Then someone slid a mask over my head and tied it tight. So much for my clandestine observation.

  Did my captors specialize in the abduction and trafficking of teenagers? Had they been taken from Improvement Centers too? Nobody would raise an eyebrow over a missing delinquent or orphan.

  A few minutes later, the jet cruiser thrust off from its launch pad. Strapped in, I braced against the hum of the rocket engine and the pull of gravity as we ascended.

  I dozed, waking now and then with a jerk, as if from a nightmare.

  Only this time, my nightmare was real.

  Six

  I woke up so sore, my legs felt like I’d hiked fifty-miles. Darkness surrounded me. Floundering in the blackness, I found myself in a narrow bed with stiff sheets and a scratchy blanket. Then my hand got tangled in a wire. Tracing its source, I discovered a bandage taped to my right arm. An IV. Was I in a hospital?

  I pushed the bedding aside and sat up. A tiny red light flashed on and off up in one corner of the room. Hoisting my legs over the side of the bed, Gingerly, I lowered my feet to the floor. Cold tiles greeted my bare skin.

  Where the hell was I?

  My pulse raced as I remembered the ride with the Jensens, how they’d drugged me and stashed me on a plane with others my age. Where were the other boys and girls? In rooms like mine or somewhere worse?

  Cloth covered my body—must have been a cotton hospital gown that ended at
my knees. What was going into my arm? More drugs? I peeled off the large bandage, removed the needle, and tossed it aside. I felt a strange tingling on my head, and I raised a hand carelessly to push my hair behind my ears—but I froze. Slowly, I touched my scalp and discovered stubble. My captors had shaved my hair. Why?

  I blinked back tears, stood, and stretched my arms forward, groping in the dark as I stumbled a few steps. After a few feet, I encountered a thick solid wall. Following its course, I edged around the square cell.

  As my eyes adjusted, I spied a small window nestled into the room’s door, a dim light on in a hallway just outside. Peering through it, I couldn't see more than a foot in either direction. Empty, and no sign of my captors or the other teens. I tried the door handle, though as I expected, it wouldn't turn.

  I paced the cold floor for what seemed like an hour before overhead lights finally flickered on, and I realized I must have woken at night. Aided by the fluorescent light, I could better assess my surroundings. My cell was a square room about fifteen feet by twenty with gray concrete walls. I pushed against them, testing to see if they gave way. No chance; the foundation was solid. There were no windows besides the tiny portal in the door with a view to the outside corridor.

  My captors were certainly not interested in my comfort. The sparse room contained a narrow bed, and on one wall, a sink and toilet, sheltered by a concrete half-wall for privacy. In the middle, a blue beanbag chair rested on top of a green circular rug. No pictures on the walls. No books, media screens, or anything to read. I didn’t have a mirror or clock. I hoped only a day had passed, but for all I knew, I could have been there a week already.

  Where had they taken me? I wished I’d been conscious during the flight. I could have been across the world from New York.

  The red light I’d seen in the darkness was a camera, so my every move was being watched. At least with the half-wall I could pee in privacy, but still. Who were these sickos? I was a rat in a cage. My anxiety turned to panic, and I began to hyperventilate. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sank to my knees on the floor.