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
