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.
What would Joanie do in my place? Calm down and get it together, girl. That’s exactly what she’d say. And she would have been right. I had to face the fact that I was a prisoner. At some point, my captors would have to show their faces.
I banged on the steel door. “Hey, anyone out there?” I paused, listening with my ear to the metal before I pounded again. “Let me out of here.” No movement, but I thought I heard a clattering sound echo from somewhere distant.
Grasping the handle, I yanked as hard as I could, trying to twist it. Grimacing through the aching all over my body, I braced my feet against the wall and used my entire 120 pounds. Hopeless. Security was tight, and I knew my captors were professionals.
Grunting, I gave the door one last kick. “Let me out, you bastards,” I shrieked as loud as I could, my
