Hunted (Parallel Series, Book 3) (Parallel Trilogy)

by Christine Kersey

  The blood drained from my face. “Oh my gosh, Amy.”

  She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “It will be okay.” Her voice was low. “Just don’t say anything you don’t want them to know.”

  I squeezed back, then she let go and we sat down. A lot of the kids were already there and I could see the questioning looks on their faces. They had no idea what was going on, but every one of them looked worried. I almost wanted to scream It’s not for you, but I was so scared that I was virtually paralyzed. I stared at the floor, trying not to think about what was about to happen.

  Lori walked in, which got my attention. Fresh anger displaced some of my terror, but when Mrs. Reynolds entered the room, a bright smile on her face, I forgot about Lori.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  No one spoke.

  “All arise for the pledge.”

  As we stood and recited the hated words, my gaze kept straying to the table and chair.

  “Very good. You may sit.” She paused. “Now, I think you’ve all noticed the additional furniture in the room this evening.” She motioned to the table and chair. “One of you—and you know who you are—has agreed to undergo a polygraph test to refute an accusation.”

  I’d never agreed to the test. She was making me do it.

  “At the end of our session,” she continued, “that person will have her chance to prove the truth of her statement.”

  I had to wait until the end? My anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

  “Now, let us begin. Last night Lori shared with us her despicable action that got her sent here.”

  I looked at Lori, whose face had turned bright red. If all I had to worry about was being embarrassed, I’d be thrilled.

  “What do you think about her behavior?” Mrs. Reynolds asked the group.

  Amy’s hand shot up.

  Mrs. Reynolds smiled. “Yes, Amy.”

  “She was being completely selfish and totally ignored the meaning of the pledge.”

  “Which is?”

  “To put the good of others above oneself, of course. She didn’t care about anyone else, only about herself.”

  “Very good.” Mrs. Reynolds smiled in obvious approval. “Which is why she was sentenced to spend time in Camp Willowmoss—to relearn the importance of putting the needs of others above her own.” She turned her gaze on Lori. “You’ve been here several weeks, Lori. What have you learned since arriving?”

  Her cheeks and neck had red splotches and she twisted her hands in her lap. “I’ve learned that it’s better to think of others before myself.”

  I had to hold back a snort. She may have learned that, but she certainly didn’t practice it.

  “I’m glad to hear that, Lori,” Mrs. Reynolds said. Then she moved on to another topic.

  About twenty minutes before we were scheduled to finish, two Enforcers walked in. My face paled as my heart rate went into the stratosphere. It was time.

  “I see our helpers are here,” Mrs. Reynolds said, perfectly calm. Then she looked directly at me. “Hannah, please come to the front of the room.”

  All eyes shot to me. When I looked at the others in the room the most dominant expression was one of relief. Relief that it wasn’t them being called up. I looked at Lori and saw a tiny smile on her face. But when I looked at Amy I saw nothing but compassion, which helped to calm me. As I stood and walked to the front of the room I turned on the camera.

  One of the Enforcers pointed to the chair. “Sit here.”

  I did as instructed, trying to pretend like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  He put two straps around my chest, the blood pressure cuff on my upper arm, and placed two small clips on two fingers. Then he and the other Enforcer moved to the wall, their stance watchful.

  Mrs. Reynolds slid into the seat behind the table and turned to the room. “As many of you may know, a polygraph test will measure the body’s response to questions being asked. If Hannah tells the truth, the polygraph will record one type of response, and if she lies, it will record another.” She smiled at me. “We will begin.”

  She tapped on a tablet computer, then looked at me. “Please answer with a yes or a no.” She paused. “Is your name Hannah Jacobs?”

  I knew this should have been an easy question, but since I knew I would be lying, I wondered if the test results would be messed up. Be Hannah, be Hannah, be Hannah. “Yes.”

  “Are you sixteen years old?”

  That was easier. “Yes.”

  “Is your roommate Lori?”

  I was sure thoughts of her made my blood pressure spike, but I couldn’t help it. “Yes.”

  She asked me some other innocuous questions, then she got to the point of the test. “Have you been doing your assigned job each day?”

  “Yes.” I said the word with conviction.

  “Have you ever cut your shift short?”

  “No.” Again, no doubt.

  “Have you done your job fully and completely?”

  “Yes.” This was getting easier.

  She became quiet as she examined the readout on her tablet. The squiggly lines meant nothing to me and I wondered what they told her.

  “One last question.”

  I was so glad this was almost over. It hadn’t been bad at all—as it had turned out, I’d really had nothing to worry about.

  “Is your name really Morgan Campbell?”

  The room erupted in chatter. My chest compressed with complete and utter terror as I realized this whole thing had just been a ruse to get to this one question. “No. No.” My voice was hardly audible over the chaos in the room as everyone spoke at once.

  “Quiet!” Mrs. Reynolds stood and faced the room. “I will have silence.”

  The noise in the room shut off as if she’d pressed the mute button. My gaze met Amy’s and she looked stricken. She mouthed the word How? I was wondering the same thing.

  Mrs. Reynolds sat back down. “Let me ask you again.” I noticed the Enforcers moving in. “Are you Morgan Campbell?”

  Amy leapt from her chair. “No! She’s Hannah. Hannah Jacobs.”

  “Sit down, Amy,” Mrs. Reynolds said, her voice deadly calm. “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”

  Amy sank into her chair, her look defeated.

  Mrs. Reynolds looked at me, her eyebrows raised in question.

  The Enforcers stood on either side of me, which didn’t help. Be Hannah, be Hannah, be Hannah. “No.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared me down. Finally she said, “You’re lying.”

  She hadn’t even looked at the readout on her tablet. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her face.

  “We have a sample of your DNA and it is an exact match with Morgan Campbell’s.”

  My shoulders slumped. I’d been caught. They’d known all along. My gaze went to Lori and I saw several emotions play across her face, but when our eyes met, the most powerful emotion I saw was satisfaction. My forehead creased as I tried to understand why she would feel that way. Was it because she was stuck in here and hadn’t liked the idea that I’d been free? Or was it just the base meanness she’d always exhibited?

  My analysis of Lori came to an abrupt end when one of the Enforcers grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me out of the chair. The other twisted my arms behind my back and snapped handcuffs onto my wrists. I wondered how long they’d known—had it been from the first day, or had they only discovered it? But what did it even matter? They knew. I was screwed.

  Amy flew from her chair and flung herself against me. “I won’t let them take you, Morgan. I won’t.”

  Hot tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks at my little sister’s devotion. She was taking a big risk by stepping forward—it just didn’t happen here—but she was doing it for me. “It will be okay, Amy,” I murmured into her hair, although I knew as clearly as I knew that she loved me that it would not be okay.

  “Back off,” one of the Enforcers demanded, then he forcibly pulled her away from me and shov
ed her toward the rest of the group, who watched in morbid fascination at the scene unfolding before them.

  She refused to sit in her chair, standing where she’d stopped. I wiped my cheeks on my shoulders—as best as I could with my arms behind my back—and gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

  My only hope was that Jack and Dani were able to download the video I was recording and that they would come rescue me immediately. But would they? Would they be willing to reveal themselves for me? Had they gotten enough information to help their cause? I turned to Mrs. Reynolds. “You’ll let my sister go now, right?”

  She smiled in her fake way. “Of course. She was only here because you weren’t. So now she’ll be free to go.”

  That, at least, was a consolation. “When? When will you release her?”

  “Tomorrow morning. At the same time you’re transferred.”

  “Transferred?”

  “That’s right. To a more secure facility.”

  How could Jack and Dani rescue me if I wasn’t here? Would they know where I was? Would this completely change their plans? My heart pounded. Today was October thirty-first—Happy Halloween, the trick was on me—which meant I only had ten days before I had to get to the tunnel. If I was late, I would not be able to get back to my world.

  I vividly recalled the trip Billy and I had made, and the intense disappointment I’d felt when it had turned out I was still in this awful world. I simply had to succeed. But it would be difficult, if not impossible, if I was locked up in a completely different place.

  As my hopes slipped away, my knees buckled and I started to collapse. The Enforcer who held onto my arm tightened his grip, then lowered me to the chair. They’d already cuffed me—I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “You may all be dismissed,” Mrs. Reynolds said to the group.

  They stood there for a minute, evidently still in shock by what had just taken place. Amy stared at me, her face contorted with sadness.

  “Go!” One of the Enforcers said, and the group shuffled toward the door. Even Amy was forced along, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

  I was left alone with Mrs. Reynolds and the two Enforcers—my worst nightmare come true.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Stand up, Morgan.” It was weird to hear my real name used—I’d gotten used to being called Hannah in the last few days. With the help of the two Enforcers, I stood, my legs unsteady.

  They led me out of the room and toward the elevators—Mrs. Reynolds stayed behind. All the other kids had cleared out by now so no one was around to stare, which was a small mercy. I was sure the news of my presence was racing around Camp Willowmoss at that very moment.

  One of the men waved his card in front of the reader and a moment later the elevator doors opened and they nudged me so I’d move inside. He chose the first floor, which surprised and terrified me. The only time I’d been on that floor was when I’d arrived. I didn’t know what else was down there. Were they taking me to the other facility now? It was after nine o’clock. Wasn’t it kind of late? And Mrs. Reynolds had said I would be transferred in the morning.

  Moments later we arrived on the first floor and the Enforcers walked me to an area I’d never been to. We stopped in front of a windowless door and one of the Enforcers waved his card in front of a reader. I heard a distinctive click. He opened the door, removed my handcuffs, and shoved me inside. Then the door slammed closed behind me.

  I spun around and pulled on the door handle, but it was locked. I slowly turned around and looked at my new home. Bolted to the floor was a cot with a thin mattress stretched across it, folded sheets stacked neatly on top. In one corner of the room stood a metal toilet. Nearby a metal sink was attached to the wall. All four walls were made of concrete. This wasn’t a room, this was a jail cell.

  And I was the criminal who had been apprehended.

  There were no windows in the room, just a tiny vent in the ceiling to keep me from suffocating. None of my things were in here—not even my toothbrush. Self-pity, hopelessness, and growing panic washed over me in waves, threatening to drown me. I slowly spun around, a feeling of desperation building.

  Then I remembered that the camera was still going—at least they hadn’t taken away the glasses. I held still and stared at the blank gray wall. “If you can hear me, please come and get me right away.” I enunciated each word, trying to mitigate the shaking in my voice. With the concrete walls surrounding me, I didn’t have great confidence that the wi-fi had been able to penetrate enough to grab the message, but I grasped onto the sliver of hope that it had worked. What other hope did I have?

  Exhausted, but not really sleepy, I had nothing else to do but lie down. I took the sheets—which were just as scratchy and stiff as the ones in my room on the eighth floor—and stretched them over the thin mattress, then took off my shoes and climbed between the sheets. The pillow was pitifully flat, but it was better than nothing. I stared at the ceiling—the light was on and there was no light switch—and tried to focus on the positives. The only one I could think of was Amy being released. I pictured her reuniting with Mom and the boys and felt a tiny tremor of happiness.

  The lights went out —it must have been ten o’clock—and I was plunged into darkness. I flashed back to my journey through the tunnel and the terror I’d felt when I’d dropped the lantern, extinguishing the light from the flame. When that had happened, I’d been certain that hideous creatures with sharp fangs were marching toward me, ready to tear me apart. I’d had no idea that instead I was marching toward a life filled with people who were much worse than any creature I’d imagined. People who were happy to tear families apart and take a person’s freedom, just because that person was overweight.

  I finally fell asleep and woke when the lights abruptly turned on. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, wondering what was going to happen next. Jack and Dani had failed to rescue me, and even though I wasn’t surprised, the sting of disappointment was still sharp. Fresh despair swept over me as I pondered my fate. Would I ever see my family again? Would the people at Camp Willowmoss really let Amy go, or was this all for nothing?

  I threw the covers back and pushed myself off of the cot, remembering the cot I’d slept on in the little hut that had led me here. The little cot I hoped to see again when I passed through the hut on my way back to my world. I put my shoes on, then cleaned myself up the best I could under the circumstances—tossing the useless contacts down the toilet—then sat on the bed and waited. I had no idea what time it was but the uncertainty of my fate kept me on edge. A short time later I heard the click on the lock being disengaged and I sat up straight, on high alert.

  The door swung open and an Enforcer brought in a tray with breakfast, including the two power bars that I normally got with each meal. With all the stress, I had no appetite, but after he left I forced myself to eat. Who knew what the day would hold and when I’d be offered food again? I forced down the meal, but ended up throwing it up as I was so upset, my stomach rebelled at the mere idea of eating. A while later, after I’d settled down, the door began to open, sending my anxiety through the roof.

  This must be it. They must be coming to get me now.

  At this point I was just ready to get it over with. Sure enough, a pair of Enforcers stood in the open doorway.

  “Let’s go,” one of them said, motioning for me to stand and approach them.

  I did as he commanded and when I reached the doorway his partner twisted my arms behind my back and put the handcuffs back on. I hadn’t slept well—tossing and turning all night—and my mouth tasted like vomit, which just added to my misery. They led me down a hall that looked familiar. It was the same hall the receptionist had taken me when I’d first arrived only four days before. Had I failed so quickly? Shame fell over me like a large boulder, making me want to curl up and die.

  We walked down the hall and stopped at a door. It was the same door I’d looked at from the other side, from the reception area. But when I’d seen it before
I’d been hopeful that my mission would go well. I’d had no idea things would turn dire so quickly.

  “Here we go,” one of the Enforcers said to the other.

  I wondered what he meant, but found out seconds later when he swung the door open and nudged me through. Dozens of reporters were crammed into the reception area, their cameras trained on me. All at once they started shouting my name—I guess trying to get my attention so they could get a good picture of me, which would be difficult with the way I looked just then. I ignored them, hating every single person in this world.

  Then I saw Amy sitting next to Mom and Dad—Dad!—a pair of Enforcers keeping the media away, and knew there were a few people in this world that I cared about. My family. I knew they were the only constant, whether in this world or the other. When Amy saw me she jumped up, but when she tried to run toward me one of the Enforcers standing guard held her back. She pushed at his arm, trying to break free, but she couldn’t overcome his superior strength.

  Mom and Dad stood too, looks of shock on their faces. I wondered if the Enforcers had woken them early this morning to come to this sideshow, or if they’d at least had the courtesy to let them know the previous night. I was so surprised to see Dad—I hadn’t known he was out. When I looked at him, he’d didn’t look strong and vigorous—like a man who’d just spent months getting healthy. He looked pale and worn down and I wondered what his experience had been like at the F.A.T. center where he’d been kept.

  “Morgan?” Mom called out, a look of concern on her face. I wondered if she had trouble recognizing me with my short black hair and glasses. It didn’t matter. I desperately wanted to run to her and tell her how much I loved her. I wanted to hide in the protective circle of her arms, but in reality I knew she couldn’t protect me from the injustices in this world any better than she’d been able to protect Amy.