"I'm Bradley, and we're it. It's just the three of us. A menage," he replied happily.
The car suddenly jostled into motion, flinging me forward and causing my bands to pull tight. Grimacing, I righted myself.
"No one wants to hear you speak, Bradie boy," Kitten said in that scratchy voice of hers.
"Like that's ever stopped me. I can't believe we've got a bird and a cat in the car." Bradley chuckled. "I guess that makes me animal control. Nice."
"I'm a Teran," Kitten said tightly, "not a cat. And if I hear you call me a cat one more time, I'll scratch your eyes out. Understand?"
"Oh, I understand. I just don't think you'll like what I'm understanding, which is that you can't wait to get your hands on me."
She hissed.
He laughed, but there was a trace of trepidation in the sound. "So...what do you know about Terans, Bird?"
"Don't call me that," I snapped.
"Gotta distract myself somehow," he muttered.
He was right. We had to distract ourselves however possible. Otherwise I might scream. "I know some Terans are covered in fur," I said, answering his question. "Others simply have pointed pupils and pointed ears."
"Ever seen one in real life?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Ever seen one attack a human?"
"No."
"That's enough," Kitten said, butting in. "You sound like an alienphobe."
Did I fear aliens? "I'm not," I said with assurance. I didn't have a problem with the otherworlders who lived among us. For the most part. The Sybilins, well, I wanted them dead.
"If a girl is hot," Bradley said, and I was sure he was leering, "I don't care what race she is."
"I'd already guessed that about you," I replied dryly.
"Already wanting a piece of me, too, I bet."
Kitten and Bradley continued to spar, ignoring me. I leaned against the back of my seat and drew in a breath. The air inside my hood was surprisingly fresh, light, as if there were air pockets sewn into the material. "What do you guys know about this bootcamp?" I asked, cutting into their heated conversation.
"Now why'd you have to go and bring that up?" Bradley asked with a moan. "I was doing a good job forgetting where I was and where I was headed."
"I don't know a lot," Kitten admitted. "What I know, I know because my sister graduated from it several years ago. See, every three months a panel of--judges, I guess you could call them--picks a few students to come and basically try out. Half are sent home in the first few weeks."
One, try out for a drug rehab? That was craziness. Two, half were sent home? Maybe I'd be one of the lucky half.
"So what'd you do to get sent there?" Kitten asked.
Another rustle of clothing. "I didn't do nothin'," Bradley said. "One day I was playing virtual football with a group of Arcadians, the next I was blindfolded and shoved into a car with two sexy-sounding hotties."
I rolled my eyes. The fact that he hadn't been caught doing drugs surprised me. Wasn't this camp for drug addicts?
"I'm here because I beat the shit out of an Ell Rollis," Kitten said. "And I'm about to beat the shit out of a human boy."
"Bring it on," Bradley said.
Ell Rollis...I flipped through my mental files, but couldn't picture one. Sensing my confusion, Kitten said, "They're huge. Like two musclemen fused together--even the women are like that. And they don't have a nose. I think they breathe from their ears or something." She purred low in her throat, as if her words delighted her. "Beating an Ell Rollis makes you an asskicker extraordinarie."
To win against a creature like that, Kitten had to be gargantuan, but the Terans I'd seen had been lithe and small and graceful. So...the camp was for fighters and--in Bradley's case--perverts, as well as flyers. Not wanting to admit where I fell in that equation, I kept my mouth shut about my crimes.
Bradley chuckled, saying, "That's a fight I would have liked to have seen. I bet there was no pulling hair or biting." He paused. "Wait, scratch that. Biting would have been good."
I'd only known the boy a few minutes, but I kind of expected the comment from him. "I wonder what they'll do to us," I said. "The camp people, I mean. Not the Ell Rollises."
"Who knows?" Kitten shifted in her seat. "A few tolerance classes, anger management, probably. That kind of crap. My sister never told me about that part. Said she was sworn to secrecy."
I'd endured enough of those types of classes in rehab. Tell us your feelings, Phoenix. Visualize a meadow of happiness, Phoenix. Deep breath in and deep breath out, letting all of your negative energy out, Phoenix. What a waste of time. What a nightmare.
Nothing was more boring.
The car suddenly twisted, pushing me to the left. I couldn't catch myself since my hands were locked behind my back and ended up sliding into a warm body.
"Oh yeah," Bradley said. "Me likie likie. Feel free to stay like this."
When he didn't try to palm my breasts, I knew beyond a doubt that he was banded like me and the pair hadn't been lying. I straightened with a muttered, "Perv."
"No better way to be."
"One day a girl is going to cut out your tongue," Kitten told him.
"If she does it with her teeth, I'm surprisingly okay with that."
I held back a laugh.
After that, time passed in silence for a long while. Without the distraction, my mind wandered. What was my mom doing right now? Would I ever see my house again? Already a wave of homesickness hit me.
Finally Kitten sighed. "This sucks."
Yeah, it did. The waiting...the not knowing.... A few minutes later, the road became bumpy, jostling me up and down. "Where the hell are we?"
"The devil's playground, is my guess," Kitten said. "Although the entire last year of my life has been spent in that area, so this must just be another section."
"I'd say we're in heaven." Bradley belted out a laugh, but it once again held a trace of trepidation. "I'm betting this camp is co-ed and life just doesn't get any better than that."
"God save me from perverts," I said, trying to keep the amusement from my voice.
Bradley just laughed again.
"You don't need God this time," Kitten replied. "It'll be my pleasure to save you from Bradie boy."
Bradley cleared his throat. "I'm really looking forward to your attempt, Cat."
Kitten hissed again. "I warned you. You won't know when and you won't know where, but you'll pay for that."
"Cat-y, cat, cat."
I pressed my lips together to smother a chuckle. Thank the Lord I hadn't been shoved into this car alone. The battling pair had saved me from untold worry.
Unfortunately, a sharp turn, several more bumps, and a jarring stop later, we arrived at our destination. My stomach clenched, and I lost all hint of amusement, no longer able to keep the worry at bay.
"We're here," Kitten said, sounding nervous.
"Yeah," Bradley said, his voice broken.
We once again lapsed into silence, this one laden with heavy tension. My nerves sparked, a little raw. What was going to happen next?
The slide of a door sounded, then footsteps. Then...nothing. Wait. A rustle of wind, the sway of trees. The chirp of insects. My hands began to sweat. I wanted the hood and laserbands removed now! These feelings of helplessness and vulnerability were almost as terrible as being taken from home, from the only life I knew.
"All right, you three," Roses said. I think he brushed his hands together in relish. "It's showtime."
"What, you're going to make us sing and dance?" Kitten demanded.
"If you make the girls dance," Bradley said, "can I take off my hood and watch?"
"We're not performing monkeys," I muttered.
Roses laughed with genuine amusement. "You will be if I tell you to be."
"We'll see about that," I told him. "Maybe you'll be the one to dance."
"Trouble," Sweet Voice said. "Told you she'd be trouble. She's already back talking."
Roses said, "T
his is what's going to happen, children. You'll be taken inside one at a time and led into a room where you will be interviewed. You will answer each question honestly."
My brows arched. Not that anyone could see my expression. "And if we don't?"
Pause.
Then, "Answer and answer honestly," he said with an ominous edge, "because you won't like what happens if you remain silent or lie. And before you ask how we'll know if you're lying, I'll tell you the answer. We know everything."
My stomach twisted into a thousand tiny, painful knots. "Why ask us anything, then?" I so did not want to be here, playing cloak and dagger games while answering questions about my life. And they would be about my life, my choices. I knew it. They always were.
"Since you're so eager to speak," Roses said, "you can go first, Phoenix. The rest of you will wait here. Don't try to leave the vehicle. I've already posted guards at the doors."
Someone reached inside and latched onto my upper arm. I was dragged out of the car and onto my feet. My boots sank into something soft. Grass, probably. The darkness of the hood disoriented me, and I wobbled. "Remove the blindfold, at least."
"You'll wear it until you're deemed worthy to take it off," Roses said. "Otherwise, I'd have to blind you some other way." His harsh tone suggested he'd just go ahead and rip out my eyes.
"The hood is fine." Logically, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Or rather, hoped he wouldn't hurt me. Camp counselors weren't allowed to injure their charges, were they?
That didn't drain my fear, however. I couldn't see his expression, didn't know him and what he was capable of doing--didn't know if the law even mattered to him.
I wasn't even one hundred percent certain what type of camp this was, despite--or maybe because of--Kitten's explanation. This was like no camp I'd ever encountered before. Everything from the hoods to the laserbands to the absolute secrecy was beyond my realm of experience.
Roses ushered me inside a building. I knew the moment I went indoors because the air changed. Suddenly there was no breeze. Only sterile-smelling air, as if some kind of cleaner had been used, blocking any hint of fragrance.
We turned once, twice, stalking down a long hallway, was my guess. I didn't hear other footsteps, didn't hear other voices.
"Nervous?" Roses asked me.
"No," I answered with false bravado.
He tsk ed under his tongue. "Lying already. I warned you about that."
"What are you going to do? Kick me out?" Pretty please with a cherry on top.
"Is that what you want? To be kicked out?" He tsk ed again. "I expected better from you, Phoenix."
He was the first to expect anything good from me then. "I expected to finish the day at school, go home, do my homework, and take a nap in my own bed."
"That's sad. You should expect more for yourself."
"And disappoint myself as well as my mom? No thanks."
He didn't say anything else. A few seconds later, he stopped. He released my upper arm, only to grip both of my shoulders and guide me a few inches to the side. "Sit," he said.
Something hard bumped into the backs of my knees. A chair, I hoped. I eased down, concerned that he'd jerk the seat away at any moment and laugh. He didn't and I was able to settle comfortably on top of it.
My ears twitched when I heard someone sigh. The sigher was a few feet away, I estimated. There was a shuffle of papers and the squeak of syn-leather.
"Welcome, Miss Germaine," a deep, scary voice said. "So glad you could make it. Now, why don't we get started, hmm?"
"Get started with what?" I asked, even though Roses had already told me I'd be interviewed. I was nervous and stalling for time.
He answered me anyway. "Why, deciding whether you live or die."
5
"State your name," the man said only two seconds after he threatened my life.
I didn't reply. Couldn't. There was a lump the size of New Chicago in my throat. This wasn't right. These people should not be allowed to threaten me like that.
I didn't want to be here. I wanted to go home. To what? A mom who's washed her hands of me? Yeah, good luck with that. Anything was better than this, though.
"State your name," he insisted.
Again, I remained silent. I found myself really missing my dad all of a sudden. Why couldn't I be one of those girls with a father who rushed to her defense? A father who broke down doors and broke the law to save his little angel? Instead I had no one who would rescue me.
I was on my own.
"State. Your. Name."
There was such unbending command in his voice that my lips parted and words spilled out before I could stop myself--though I still didn't obey. "You already know it. This is stupid."
"This is your last chance. State your name." "Or suffer the consequences" drifted through the air unsaid.
"Phoenix Ann Germaine." Just get this over with, I thought. Answer their questions and get out of this hood. Get home. I didn't like that people were watching me, judging me, especially since I didn't know how many were here or even what they looked like--or what they were doing.
Each one of them could have a gun aimed at me, finger poised on the trigger. With that thought, sweat beaded over my skin. A cold sweat that somehow heated my blood. The breath in my lungs fragmented, making it hard to concentrate.
"You're seventeen years old?" a clipped female voice asked.
"Yes." Almost eighteen, I nearly added, but didn't want to prolong the conversation in any way. I now knew there were at least three people in the room with me. Deep Voice, Roses, and the woman. I'd give them no more than they asked for. No elaboration.
"You are an Onadyn addict," another voice said, this one male. "Yes?"
That made four people. The entire room tapered to quiet. Not even the rustle of clothes or paper could be heard. I could feel their eyes burning into me, waiting for my answer.
My jaw clenched. "Former addict," I gritted out.
A chair squeaked. Murmurs. "Why is she even here?" that same male said--the one who'd asked me if I was an addict. "This is ridiculous. A user is always a user."
A minute passed; I strained to hear but he was never given an answer.
"Do you still use, Phoenix?" a hard feminine voice asked.
If I answered yes, would I be sent home or be forced to remain? Several heart-stopping minutes passed while I considered my response. In the end, I opted for the truth. "No. I told you. I'm a former user."
Pause.
Then, "When was your last dose?"
"A few months ago," I answered, once again opting for honesty.
"Why should we believe you?"
Surprise swept through me, potent and strong. Ryan was here. I'd recognize that raspy tone anywhere. He hadn't sounded insulting or sneering. No, he'd sounded expectant. Why?
And what was he doing here? Was he a counselor at the camp?
"Answer the question," Deep Voice commanded.
I shrugged. "My own mother doesn't trust me, so why should anyone else?" Not only had I used drugs, but I'd slept around, lied, and stolen. No wonder Mom hadn't believed me, I thought bitterly. I'd been a nightmare.
Maybe I did deserve this place.
I'm different now. Don't forget.
"I'd like to hear more about your mother. Do you hate her for not trusting you? Do you blame her?" another woman asked.
I shook my head. "No. I don't hate or blame her." She'd taken care of me for as long as she'd been able. I was hurt, I couldn't deny that. But they hadn't asked that, so I didn't say it.
"Are you angry with her?"
I paused, then answered honestly, "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because," I said.
"Because why?" Deep Voice insisted.
"Because she should have loved me enough to keep me. Because she should have loved me enough to try again. Because I'm an idiot. Is that what you want to hear?"
Someone chuckled. Ryan, I think, because the sound of it warmed me.
Still, I ran my tongue over my teeth. I didn't want to be amusing. I wanted to be dismissed. Except...more than leaving, I found that I wanted to know what Ryan was doing here. If he wasn't a counselor, had he been sent to the camp after that fight? If so, why was he allowed to be here during my interrogation?
"How do you feel about other-worlders, Phoenix?" Deep Voice asked.
I handled the switch in topics with ease. "Which ones?"
"All of them," was the flat response.
"Lumping every species into one category is like lumping all humans into one category. Some are different. Let's take this group, for instance. Each one of you is a bastard, but that doesn't mean the two kids in the car outside are bastards, as well."
A girl sucked in a breath. A guy cleared his throat.
"I want her out," someone muttered. "Finishing the interview is pointless."
"If we let her in and the others start to act like her..."
If my wrists had been free, I might have flipped the speaker off. Something about her irked me. She was so superior. "So, how many people are here?" I asked.
"A good agent can figure that out without the use of her eyes," a girl said. Allison Stone, I realized with another dose of shock.
She was here, too? Oh, that burned! And what did she mean, "agent"? "Why aren't I allowed to see any of you?"
"We'll ask the questions," Allison snapped.
"Well, then, I'll decide whether or not to answer," I replied in the same snotty tone she'd used.
"That's music to my ears, user."
"Allison," Deep Voice said. "Shut your mouth or leave. I allowed you to sit in because you're about to graduate and one day you'll help run this camp. Don't make me regret my decision."
She would help run it? "This is a joke, right? You're all actors trying to bring back that practical joke show."
No one replied.
"She has a serious attitude problem," I heard.
Again with the mutterings. I rolled my eyes. Not that they could see me.
"She'll be too hard to control," someone else offered.
"Yes, but she has passion." That came from Ryan. "She's had no training. She was drinking that night, but still fought the Sybilins like a highly trained agent. If she hadn't been there, we could have lost."
"Agent"...that was the second mention. What kind of agent?
"There's her drug problem to contend with."
"True."
"And it will be a problem. A big one."
They were speaking so quickly and so quietly, I had trouble making out who was saying what. But I offered, "No problem at all since it's a former drug problem. And if one of you told my mother that I was smoking Onadyn that night in the forest, I'll kill you."
Red Handed Page 5
