“Mom,” I called back, and the media went into a frenzy of picture taking, and increased the volume of their cries to get my attention. I strained against the grip of the Enforcers who held me in place, imagining the pride they must be feeling to have finally captured Morgan Campbell.
At least Billy’s still free, I thought. They’d never catch him. He was too clever. The thought gave me some comfort, but I missed him fiercely all the same.
The Enforcers walked me to a chair and pushed me into it, then cuffed my legs to the chair—as if I would have any chance to get away. I looked at Mom, Dad, and Amy, who stared at me helplessly. I glanced around, trying to tune out the reporters, and noticed a podium positioned in the corner of the room. I wondered what it was for—I didn’t remember seeing it when I’d arrived a few days earlier.
A moment later Dr. Tasco—the man who ran Camp Willowmoss, the man who took so much pleasure in watching us participate in the Saturday Challenge—walked through the door that I’d come through moments before and strode up to the podium, a wide smile on his bespectacled face.
Seeing his glasses reminded me of the camera in my glasses and for a second I thought it was a shame my bound hands prevented me from turning it on, then almost laughed. There was no need for my camera—the media would record everything.
“Good morning,” Dr. Tasco said. He seemed to be in a fantastic mood.
The crowd settled down, their eyes trained on Tasco.
“As you can see for yourself, we’ve captured Morgan Campbell, wanted for assaulting an Enforcement Officer.” He paused, letting that sink in and allowing everyone a moment to stare at me like a caged animal in the zoo. I noticed he didn’t mention my and Billy’s escape. Maybe he wanted to preserve the fiction that no one was held here against her will.
He continued. “This morning we will transfer her to a facility with higher security. Camp Willowmoss is meant for those needing to lose weight as well as those who have committed minor infractions, not for serious offenders like Morgan Campbell.”
They were treating me like I was a mass murderer or something and my face flamed red at the implication. I stared at my lap, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. I was ashamed, but not because I’d stabbed Hansen—he deserved it and more—but because I’d failed. Failed to get the information that could have turned the tide of public opinion against F.A.T. centers like this one. Failed to conceal my true identity before I’d been able to get out. But at least I’d succeeded in getting Amy out. Just not in the way I had wanted to.
“As promised,” Tasco went on, “We’ve released Amy Campbell to her parents.” He pointed to Amy, Mom, and Dad. Mom and Dad looked shell-shocked, but Amy looked angry. “I’d like to thank everyone involved in apprehending Morgan Campbell,” he went on. “It’s always gratifying to get violent criminals off of the street.”
The absurdity of his comment almost made me smile. Me? A violent criminal? What about Dr. Tasco’s Enforcement Officers—grown men who were twice my size—who were allowed to punch me—a teenaged girl—in the stomach, like Hansen did during my last stay? If he’d hit me just right, he could have killed me. Or what about the Enforcers who hit my legs and Amy’s legs with their batons when we didn’t perform the way they demanded when we were in the gym? Those were violent criminals. I’d only been defending Billy from Hansen’s punches.
“I’m sure you’re all curious as to how we were able to capture her.”
I was interested too and I turned my attention back to Tasco.
“A woman purporting to be her mother brought her here several days ago under the pretense that she needed to lose weight. As you can see, her appearance has changed. We believe there are other people involved in this deception and others are investigating that angle.”
That’s just perfect, I thought. Jack and Dani won’t come anywhere near me now, which meant it was all but certain that I had zero chance of getting to the tunnel in time. I imagined living the rest of my life in this world: Never having the hope of getting back to my home world, always having to deal with the intrusion of the government, always being known as a criminal.
A powerful feeling of panic grabbed hold of me and I fought back the urge to vomit, swallowing repeatedly to push the bile back down my throat. My gaze ricocheted around the room, searching for any means of escape. The only way out was through the main door. Assuming I could even get through the crowd, I’d then have to get past the Enforcers who were stationed around the room. The chances of escape were somewhere between slim and none. I suddenly found it hard to breathe and leaned forward slightly to keep the dizziness at bay.
A hard grip on my shoulder yanked me upright and I turned to see one of the Enforcers standing there, glaring at me. No one could help me now. I was on my own. My gaze shot to Amy, who sat next to Mom and Dad, and I felt a glimmer of happiness that at least she was safe now—as safe as anyone could be who lived in this world. At least as long as I was locked up and serving my time, she would be okay.
Tasco continued his story, which pulled my attention back to him. “We haven’t yet determined why Miss Campbell tried to impersonate an innocent civilian. She and the people working with her are either very stupid or very naive.”
I looked at Tasco and he turned and looked at me, which drew everyone else’s attention back to me.
“Surely they must have realized that the retinal scanner cannot be fooled. And each resident at Camp Willowmoss is required to weigh-in—using the retinal scanner for identification purposes—on a daily basis.”
He looked away from me and I felt like a complete idiot for believing Jack and Dani when they’d claimed they had a way to trick the retinal scanner. The people at Camp Willowmoss must have known it was me from the first time I’d gotten on the scale three days before. I only wondered why they didn’t immediately arrest me. I wondered if Hansen knew it was me all along. He certainly picked me out for harassment from the start.
“After the retinal scanner alerted us to her presence, we were able to verify her identity using a blood sample taken during processing, matching her DNA to what was in the government’s database.”
When Dr. Bradley had drawn my blood it had never occurred to me that it would hold the key to my identity. But even if I’d thought of that at the time, what could I have done? My “mother” had already brought me in. At that point I couldn’t have left if I’d wanted to.
As it turned out, this mission was guaranteed to fail. Did Jack and Dani know that, or had they really believed it could work? Or were they just using me to get what info they could until I was inevitably caught?
“I’m not taking any questions,” he said. “At this time, Morgan Campbell will be transferred to Camp Stonewater.”
The Enforcers undid the chains from my ankles and pulled me up.
“Can I at least tell my family good-bye?” I yelled loud enough for everyone to hear. That got the attention of the media and they all looked at Dr. Tasco.
Perhaps he felt the pressure of their attention because he seemed reluctant when he said, “Certainly.” He motioned for the Enforcers to bring me over to Mom, Dad, and Amy. It didn’t take any urging from anyone for me to walk to where they waited. When I got within a few feet, Mom and Dad opened their arms and I rushed into them, but with my hands in cuffs, I couldn’t hug them back.
“Oh, Morgan, what am I going to do with you?” Mom murmured in my ear.
I wasn’t sure what she meant and I leaned away and looked at her, a question on my face.
“I’ve been worried sick about you,” she said, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t even know if you were alive.”
I guess I hadn’t thought too much about how Mom might be feeling—I’d been preoccupied with my own problems—but now that she stood in front of me, it kind of hit me how hard it must have been for her these last few weeks. Especially with Amy locked up in my place. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I never meant for you to worry.”
She lau
ghed softly. “One day you’ll understand that a mother never stops worrying.”
“Well, now you’ll know where I am.”
Any lightheartedness vanished. “Yes, but I’d rather you were at home.”
Then I looked at Dad and he pulled me close to him. “Morgan, it’s so good to see you. I love you so much.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I’m glad to see you too. And I love you too.”
After a moment he released me and put his hands on my shoulders. “You’ll get through this. You’ll be okay.”
His reassurance helped, but I knew he had no idea if I’d be okay. I looked at Mom and she glanced over my shoulder at the horde filming our interaction, then at Dr. Tasco. “Do you know how long you’ll be there?”
There. Like it was just summer camp. “No.” But I feared it would be a long time. Before I’d “assaulted an Enforcement Officer” I’d been sentenced to six months. Now who knew how long it would be. And I hadn’t noticed any kind of court system where I could defend my actions. Guilty unless proven…well, just guilty. That’s how it worked here.
I sighed, then turned to Amy. She threw her arms around me and I pressed my cheek against hers. “I’m so glad you got out,” I said in her ear so no one else could hear.
“It’s not right what they’re doing,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Making this big show about getting you and letting me go.”
I thought this kind of thing happened all the time—I wasn’t from around here, remember. Evidently not. “It’s okay. I can handle it.” I actually had no idea if that was true, but it sounded good. Then I pulled away and smiled at her. She smiled back and seemed a little less angry, so at least my comment had helped.
“Okay, time to get going,” Dr. Tasco said. “We have a schedule to keep.”
I didn’t know what schedule he was talking about, but figured it was the only thing he could come up with to hurry me along. My family gave me one more hug, then the Enforcers led me through the parting crowd of reporters and out to a waiting vehicle. They held the door open and helped me inside—they couldn’t be too rough with all the media watching—then put my seatbelt on me and shut the door. We pulled away from the curb a moment later—just me and the two Enforcers who had stayed by my side throughout the whole ordeal. But they weren’t my protectors. They were my jailers.
I looked at the door and confirmed what I expected—there was no door handle. I looked out the window as we drove away from Camp Willowmoss, remembering the last time I’d left. It had been Billy and me and we’d been on the run. I’d been terrified but exhilarated. Full of hope that I would be back to my own world very soon.
Now it was completely different. The flame of hope had been extinguished with the same finality as the flame in the lantern when I’d dropped it in the tunnel. The further we got from my family and what was familiar, the more the darkness closed in on me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I leaned my head against the back of the seat and closed my eyes, my shoulders aching from having my arms behind me for so long. I tried to pretend I was just running an errand with Mom. Or maybe we were on the way to school—school would be heaven compared to where I was headed now. But when I heard the Enforcers start talking in the front seat, I couldn’t pretend anymore.
“Hey, Morgan,” one of them said.
I cracked my eyes open to see who was talking and saw it was the one in the passenger seat. I’d noticed his name tag said Mills. He looked at me over the seat.
“You’re going to love it at Camp Stonewater.” He grinned. “Lots of scum like you there.” Then he laughed and faced the front again.
So this would be more like a prison than a F.A.T. center. They’d just prettied up the name by calling it Camp Stonewater. I wondered if it would be all teenagers like Camp Willowmoss had been. Were there enough bad kids to fill a place like that?
I closed my eyes again, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to break through. The last thing I wanted was for these Enforcers—who obviously despised me—to see me cry.
What seemed like an hour later we pulled up to a gate. I sat up straighter, trying to get a good look at this place. A chain-link fence topped with razor wire stretched out in both directions. The guard shack at the entrance was manned by two well-armed Enforcers. The driver of the car showed an ID and was waved through. As we drove through the gate, despair and hopelessness settled over me like a shroud.
We drove to the side of the building and stopped next to a door. Mills got out and opened the door next to me, then reached in and grabbed my upper arm, pulling me out. His partner had gotten out and stood watch next to the door. Once I was out of the car they each grabbed one of my arms and walked me to the building door.
We entered a hallway that looked just like the one at Camp Willowmoss had looked the night Hansen and Dimples had brought me in. But instead of taking me to an office to check me in, they brought me to a room with a table, three chairs, and a large mirror. I’d watched enough television to recognize an interrogation room.
Mills undid my handcuffs and I rubbed my wrists to try to restore the circulation, then glanced toward the mirror, wondering who was on the other side. Without a word, Mills and his partner left the room. When they shut the door I heard the click of the lock, so I didn’t even bother checking to see if I could get out. Where would I go anyway? To the guard shack at the gate? Yeah, I’m sure they’d let me waltz right out.
I sat there, alone, waiting for something to happen. The more time that went by, the more on edge I became—which was certainly their plan. Finally the door opened and a woman walked in, a bright smile on her face. I’d gotten used to the fake smiles of the F.A.T. center workers, so I hardly registered hers.
She looked like she was around thirty and her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back with a clip. “Good Morning, Morgan.” She sat in one of the empty chairs across the table from me. “My name’s Holly. Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?”
Since I’d thrown up my breakfast, I was pretty hungry. “Sure.”
She stood. “Great. I’ll be back in a minute.”
True to her word, only a few minutes later she was back, tray in hand. She set it down in front of me and I stared at the three power bars and the glass of water. Several squares of ice floated in the water, making me realize how thirsty I was. I picked up the glass and gulped down half of the water. My stomach rumbled at the site of the power bars. As hungry as I was though, I worried about eating them on an empty stomach. I had vivid memories of the way I’d felt after eating the power bars on an empty stomach before. The compliance drug had hit me hard, making me feel drunk and out of control—not a feeling I wanted to have in a place like this.
“Go ahead, Morgan,” she said, motioning to the tray. “They’ll take away your hunger.”
As well as other things, I wanted to say. “I’m okay.” I smiled to show that as much as I appreciated the offer, I was still in control of what I put in my body.
She slid the tray out of my reach. “Okay. Maybe later.”
My stomach churned painfully and I really wanted to eat just one power bar, but kept my hands in my lap.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“I’d like to go to the bathroom.”
“Of course. Follow me.”
She brought me to a bathroom and waited outside while I went in. It was a small, windowless room with a single toilet and a sink. I looked at the vent high on the wall, remembering the escape I’d made with Billy, but it was too small for me to climb through—assuming I could even get to it. My shoulders slumped as I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be escaping this place right now. And if I was honest with myself—which I was loathe to be—I had to admit that the possibility of escaping this place at all was even less likely than I’d thought.
“You almost done in there?” Holly called through the door.
“Just about,” I called out
. A moment later I came out.
“We need to go back to the room,” she said. “There are some people who would like to talk to you.”
Seeing how I didn’t have a choice, I walked with her back to the room and sat down.
“They’ll be with you in a little while.” She smiled. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I nodded and she left.
I felt self-conscious as I sat there, figuring there must be people watching me. After what seemed like a very long time, I pulled the tray closer to me and drank more water—someone had topped it off while Holly and I were gone. I stared at the power bars as my stomach growled. I imagined biting in to one and my mouth watered. To distract myself, I thought about other things—Mom, Dad, Amy, home, Billy—I even stood and paced the room, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the three power bars laid out neatly on the tray.
I’d been eating six per day—two at each meal—for several days and now my body craved the addictive drug that had been cooked into them. Against my better judgement, I picked one up. I turned my back to the mirrored wall—I didn’t want them to see my weakness—and pretended to read the packaging. But in reality I held it close enough to my face to let the scent reach my nose. Something in my brain craved that power bar, and after holding back as long as I could, I ripped open the packaging and took a small bite.
The familiar delicious taste filled my mouth and I gobbled the rest of it down. Somehow, when I had these at each meal, I’d been able to manage my desire to eat them—probably because I’d had other food alongside them, making me less hungry and able to think more clearly. Now, however, I was famished, making it harder to resist the temptation.
I sat down and ignored the mirrored wall, and tried to ignore the tray, but the other two power bars were just begging to be eaten. After holding out as long as I could, I ate them too, then finished off the glass of water. Once they were gone, shame that I hadn’t been able to control myself drifted over me like a dense fog. But that was soon replaced by a feeling of carefree indifference. Who really cared if I ate them or not? What did it really matter?
Hunted (Parallel Series, Book 3) (Parallel Trilogy) Page 22
