The Rogue Spark series Box Set Page 5

  Then I heard footsteps in the hall. Peterson on a round?

  I wrapped the mouse inside the aluminum candy wrapper and slid it into my pocket, then scurried to the door just as Peterson’s face came into view. “Hey. It’s urgent.” My voice cracked.

  He halted but remained several feet away. “What?” he grunted with narrowed eyes.

  “Come closer.”

  “I’m forbidden to talk to you or get close to your cell.”

  “It’s your mouse.”

  He frowned.

  “She’s alive.” I crouched and slid the warm, wrapper-enshrouded mouse through the food slot, her tiny face peering out from one end.

  Through the window, Peterson glowered. Then he did a double-take. As he bent down, I couldn’t see what was happening outside the thick door.

  Seconds later, he appeared in the window, cupping the mouse close to his cheek. She snuggled against him, and his ochre eyes gleamed huge and watery. “How did…? But she was dead. I don’t—is it really her?”

  I pressed my palms against the door and whispered, “She came to life in my hands.”

  Peterson stared at her. “Hey, Frida. You gave me a scare.” He met my gaze. “Thank you. She’s my pet. My only companion. Some days she’s my only reason for getting out of bed.”

  “I’m not sure how it happened, but—”

  “Strange things happen here. Just look at me.” He glanced around the hallway. “How can I repay you?” he whispered.

  I thought for a moment. “A knife.”

  From outside in the hall came a low buzzing. Peterson stole a final glance at me, then strode away. Seconds later, a camera drone cruised by. They had tightened up on security.

  Fifteen

  “You lost the privilege to leave your room. Now I come to you.”

  I glared at Dr. Kenmore, fists clenched and pulse racing. He’d surprised me this morning. Peterson had entered and cuffed my hands behind my back as usual, but instead of escorting me through the hallway, he held me there until Kenmore strolled in and took a seat on my bed. Then Peterson stepped away to guard the door, wielding his stun baton.

  Dr. K pulled out a tablet. Without a glance, he asked, “How are you feeling today?”

  “Like shit.”

  “Explain.” He crossed his legs, still not glancing up from his screen.

  “I feel like shit because you’re keeping me holed up against my will. You belong in jail, creep.”

  He sighed. “I see. More of this nonsense.” He jotted a note onto the tablet.

  I shrugged and fidgeted with my cuffs. Peterson had squeezed them tighter than usual. Earlier, I had scanned his pockets, searching for the mouse, but saw no sign. If he was smart, he wouldn’t risk Kenmore finding the creature again.

  “When good girls cooperate, good girls get rewarded for their behavior.” Kenmore raised his eyebrows and finally glanced my way.

  I smirked, throwing as much sarcasm into it as possible.

  “Unfortunately, your book will be confiscated. Have fun staring at the wall.”

  “I will.”

  “If you behave, you can get an even better reward. How would you like to go outdoors, see the sun, take a walk? This can be arranged if you answer my questions. Like a good girl.”

  My eyes watered. Daylight. How long had it been since I’d breathed fresh air? But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I hated him with all my heart. But the thought of traveling outside… God, that would be nice.

  Kenmore cleared his throat. “Shall we begin again? How are you feeling today?”

  Talk, cooperate, a voice inside my head said, but I ignored it. “Screw you.”

  He exhaled. “So, it’s come to this. Peterson.” He motioned to the guard.

  Peterson stretched his arm, aiming the charged stunner at me. I didn’t register it fast enough—my body stiffened like a board and pain charged through every nerve. Frantic, I wanted to dodge but couldn’t move my limbs. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

  The floor rushed up to meet me, but Peterson wrapped one of his large, hairy hands around my arm to stop me from falling. He'd only shocked me for a few seconds, but it had been long enough to leave me surprised and gasping for breath. Gently, he lowered me to the ground where I groaned and coughed.

  Dr. K yawned and stretched his arms overhead. “We can stay at this all day. Peterson has plenty of juice left in his stunner.”

  Feeling exhaustion all over, I crawled to the wall and leaned against it, glowering at him.

  “Let’s begin, shall we?” Kenmore adjusted his glasses. “Have you noticed anything unusual in your body these last twenty-four hours?”

  Where do I start, Doc? It just so happens possessed bugs are roaming inside me, and they resurrected a dead rodent. But other than that, nothing strange. I glanced at Peterson. “Yes.”

  Dr. K leaned forward. “Go on.”

  “My arms.”

  “What about them?”

  “They tingled. My skin was itchy.”

  He scribbled on his screen. “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  He rose and approached me. I tensed.

  “Stand up. Peterson, help her.”

  I shifted my feet under me. My instincts said to kick, to flee, but I shuddered at the thought of another jolt through my body. Peterson’s hairy hands tickled my arm as he pulled me upright. He smelled like soap.

  Kenmore inspected my arms, and I wanted to vomit. I glanced at Peterson and furrowed my eyebrows. His eyes met mine. Behind Kenmore’s back, he tapped his watch as if to signal, wait longer.

  “Ow.” The bastard had pinched my bicep.

  He made a note.

  I wasn’t getting anywhere. So far, Kenmore hadn’t given me any new information. I gulped and said, “Something’s wrong with me. I saw things moving in my arm yesterday.”

  “Most interesting.”

  Peterson’s thick eyebrows curved.

  Kenmore continued with his barrage of questions. “What did it feel like—the movement?”

  “It tingled, I guess.”

  “You’ve done well. I’ve made note of your cooperation. I’ll think about a reward if your behavior continues.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Now what? What about the tingling? The things in my arms?”

  “You may experience more tingling. That can’t be helped. Soon enough, there’ll be another… treatment. You’re making good progress.” He started for the door.

  “What did you put inside me?”

  He turned and sighed. “Implants.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “We implanted nanobots. Tiny, artificially intelligent biological units that operate inside your body.”

  A cold shiver ran down my spine. “What do you mean, they operate inside?”

  Kenmore smiled as he departed.

  “It’s all part of the plan. No more questions.”

  Sixteen

  I wasn’t sure whether Kenmore had rewarded me, but I ended up with a dinner plate full of red meat, mashed potatoes, and even a small lemon cake. I’d been lying on the bed, stretched out on my side, because the welt on my shoulder from the stunner was so tender.

  As the smell of the shredded steak wafted over, my mouth watered. I hurried over to swipe up the tray and hastened to my corner. I’m not sure why I still bothered eating there. It wasn’t hygienic to dine next to a toilet, but that half-wall was my last shred of privacy—a semblance of control.

  I devoured the meat first, then tore into the potatoes. Extra butter this time. As I savored the starchy, creamy goodness, my plastic fork hit something solid. I burrowed in and discovered a dark, metal object inside. I dug it out. Peterson had come through. I smiled at the compact pocketknife with its green handle. I tested the blade with my finger. Fairly dull, but better than no weapon.

  I stuck it in my bra, then finished my meal. I licked the plate clean—I would need all my energy to go after Kenmore.

  After my
food settled, I did jumping jacks, wall push-ups, and crunches. The whole time, I played a movie in my head. I pictured myself in Kenmore’s office, sticking the knife in his eye after he’d asked whether I’d been a good girl in his condescending way. I’d show him what a good girl really was.

  But they always cuffed me behind my back. I had to get them to trust me and leave my hands free, so I could pull the knife. What would convince them?

  Joanie had taught me how to fake a seizure when I lived in Hell’s Kitchen. She’d dreamed up with the idea one day. A group of us would enter a store—usually a grocery or pharmacy with a small staff. One of us would pretend to have an epileptic fit and cause a big scene. The staff and other nearby adults would run over in a panic while the rest of us filled our pockets with food and other essentials.

  It had worked well until the day I got busted. My gang had sprinted away while the cops grabbed me. We had a rule—one of us got caught, everyone else ran. No sense in sticking around and getting in trouble too. Joanie had glanced behind as she fled, blinked at me, mouthed, Be careful. It had been the last time I saw her.

  I decided I would fake a seizure in front of Kenmore. It would work here in my cell or in his office. Faking illness for a doctor would be tricky, but what other choice did I have?

  The lights cut out, and darkness filled the room. I crept out of bed and into my private corner with the knife in my waistband. I practiced rolling around in an epileptic fit, pretended they uncuffed me, and then swung the blade up and into Kenmore.

  If Peterson tried to stop me, I would stick him too, grab the baton, and run down the hall stunning any other guards I encountered.

  Satisfied I had etched the moves into my muscle memory, I slunk into bed and passed out.

  I woke to a blaring siren.

  Upon opening my eyes, a strobe light blinded me. I blinked, tensed my muscles, and wondering what the hell was happening. A fire alarm?

  My door crashed open and a tall figure barged in, wearing all black and a ski mask. He strode over and pointed a rifle in my face. “Up, prisoner one-one-nine!”

  I raised my hands, gasping. The intruder backed off a step, then tossed a duffel bag on my bed. “Get up. Get dressed.”

  I swallowed my fear and stood though my legs were wobbly, and my ears rang from the deafening alarm. The bag contained clothes—jacket, black fatigues and combat boots. I stripped off my cotton pants and shirt down to my bra and underwear, no time to care that he saw, and pulled on the new uniform. Falling onto my butt, I slid my feet into the boots—a perfect fit.

  “Move, move, move,” the stranger shouted.

  I jumped up, grateful that I’d snuck the pocketknife into my bra before I fell asleep. As long as there weren’t metal detectors, I was golden.

  The man jogged behind, shouting commands. “Right. Left.” Security doors swung open as if someone watched our every step. He directed me through a maze of hallways lit by the flashing strobes. This was the first time I’d been out of my cell without a blindfold, but at the speed we ran, I couldn’t commit it to memory.

  He led me into a cavernous room that resembled a garage or an airplane hangar. An armored truck rested in the middle, and he raced me toward it. Then he ordered me to jump in through an open back door.

  As I climbed in, I froze. Two others huddled on bench seats, dressed in black fatigues like me. I stared at a girl about my age, maybe a year younger. Across from her, a boy who seemed a few years older eyed me warily. Both had shaved heads, too.

  The mystery man in the mask tossed me a tablet before slamming the door shut. We heard pounding on the side of the vehicle, then a man said, “Go, go, go.” The truck lurched into gear, causing me to fall onto the bench next to the other girl.

  I panted from the running and scanned their long, pale faces. “Who are you?” I asked.

  The girl ran a hand across her stubbly scalp. “I’m a prisoner here. Been here a few weeks.”

  The young man nodded. “Same here. What the hell is happening? Why did they wake us and shove us into this truck?”

  “You too?” I smiled, but my mouth quivered from nerves, and it morphed into a frown.

  “What’s on the tablet?” he asked.

  I shivered as I peered down at it. “Let’s find out.” I tapped the screen to bring it to life.

  A timer appeared and counted down from three hours.

  Seventeen

  Like me, Rik and Cecile had been abducted by a seemingly friendly couple, drugged, transported, and imprisoned. I mentioned I’d dozed in and out of consciousness on the plane and had seen others. It might have been them.

  In Boston, Rik had been enticed with the promise of construction work he’d spotted on the city center vid screens. A couple had picked him up and claimed they were wealthy homeowners from the suburbs who needed a cottage built. They'd promised room, board, and steady pay for a month.

  Cecile had been relocating to what she thought was a new foster home—a couple whom she’d live with for a few weeks. The Jensens had plucked her up and tranquilized her as soon as they were out of sight of her social worker.

  As the truck rolled along, we tried to figure out our situation. I passed the tablet around, but the countdown screen was locked.

  We were jostled like loose cargo during the bumpy ride. “Where are we?” asked Cecile.

  “Rough roads. This is no highway. Seems like there are plenty of boulders or potholes,” said Rik.

  I swallowed and pressed the skin on my forearms, wondering if they’d been experimented on. “Did they ever put you under and you woke up feeling weird… like they had done something to you?”

  “Dr. Kenmore,” said Cecile with narrowed eyes. “He’s a bastard. A psychopath.”

  “It’s an illegal research base, they’re running, best I can tell,” said Rik. “I fought them, but the guards have—”

  “Stunners!” Cecile and I interjected.

  “Sons of bitches,” Rik muttered.

  The more we talked, we learned our treatment had been similar. They didn’t mention Peterson’s wolfish appearance. Maybe they’d had different guards. I kept my mouth shut.

  “Maybe this is a test,” said Cecile with a spark in her eyes. “Maybe we passed and now they’re taking us somewhere else. Like we graduated.”

  Rik shook his head. “Then why wake us up in the middle of the goddamn night and dump us on a truck dressed like we’re about to rob a bank?”

  Cecile lowered her gaze.

  I straightened and whispered, “Whatever this situation is, we’ve got each other’s backs, right? Let’s work together and look for an escape. They probably bugged this truck and have cameras on us.”

  They nodded, and we bounced along silently for a minute. What was Kenmore up to?

  “It might help to know what each other’s strengths are… I’ll start,” I said. “I’m a decent fighter. I can hold my own, kick, and run fast.”

  “I’m strong,” said Rik. “Been in construction since I was fourteen. I can lift heavy things. Only ever been in two fist fights. I did okay.” He smiled.

  It was Cecile’s turn, but the truck braked, sliding us toward the front. Then it halted, and someone opened the doors.

  Closest to the rear, I jumped out first, clutching the tablet. My feet crunched on sand and pebbles.

  “Desert,” Rik said as he leaped from the truck, followed by Cecile. Night sky surrounded us, and stars spread out like a blanket of dust. To the east, the tiniest hint of light teased at the edges of the horizon.

  The truck’s engine revved, and the vehicle sped off, sending up a plume of dust and scattering pebbles in its wake. “Hey!” Rik ran after the truck, but I held back. No sense wasting my energy.

  Now that we stood, I got a better look at my companions. Cecile was smaller, a compact five-foot-three inches. Rik’s muscular frame towered half a foot over me.

  I sucked the dry, desert air into my lungs, then exhaled. “We’ve got one thing going for us. We’re
out of the prison and outside.”

  They both relaxed their shoulders. I wondered if Cecile had been right—maybe this was a next level test. Would we pass?

  The three of us wandered the area searching for clues. After a few minutes, Rik discovered a box—a steel, rectangular container obscured by scraggly bushes. He crouched down and opened it, the metal hinges creaking. “Hot damn!”

  “What is it?” I looked over his shoulder and spied three rifles. He gripped one and pulled it out, testing its weight.

  Behind me, Cecile said, “My strength.”

  Rik and I peered at her.

  “My dad used to take me hunting when I was little,” she said.

  Rik smiled in the darkness, then tossed her a gun. “Good. Then teach us.”

  Cecile ran her hands across the smooth chrome barrel and raised it to her shoulder. “Scope sight. It’s made for long distance shooting. Bolt-action. Here’s the spare magazine.” She pointed to the butt of the weapon, knocked it, then slid it out and rammed it back in.

  She showed us how to set your sight in the scope, aim, and fire. Then she watched as Rik and I unloaded and reloaded the magazine.

  The tablet buzzed in my pocket. “Hey, guys. We’re getting a message.” I showed them the flashing blue screen. The timer had disappeared, replaced with: Incoming message. I tapped it, and a hologram beamed to life in the empty air between us.

  We’d never seen the man before. He had a military look—strong jawline, crewcut, and a beret. “Recruits, you are to advance to the assigned location—the GPS will lead you—and eliminate the target.”

  “Recruits?” I whispered. Across from me, Rik studied the hologram, his jaw tense.

  The man in the hologram crossed his arms. “The target is a known traitor and must be eliminated. Your deadline is 0600 hours.” The hologram disappeared.

  Afterward, we stared at each other in silence. Rik paced as Cecile chewed on her lip.

  “This is crazy,” I said. “We’re supposed to assassinate someone? A complete stranger?”