Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  I heard D’Lo snorting behind me, but I wouldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t look at anything. My throat was constricting like I might throw up, but there was no way I was doing that.

  “Feel it?” The vet asked.

  I shook my head, eyes still closed, unable to speak. The cow seemed as tense as me, but whether it was from the growing storm or my arm sinking deeper into her hindquarters, I couldn’t tell.

  “Keep feeling… gently,” Dr. Green urged. “Anybody can learn palpation. It’s the most accurate procedure for determining pregnancy in dairy cows. And the cheapest—”

  “I got it!” My breath rushed out in a gush.

  I did. I felt a definite lump spilling over the pubic bone. Elsie’s calf.

  “Now. Make a mental note of the size,” he said. “She’s about 90 days along.”

  “I feel it,” I repeated, my legs shaking as my muscles started to relax. “It’s a little lump about the size of my palm.”

  “Good,” Dr. Green smiled. “Now ease your arm out slowly.”

  I remembered Jackson’s smug look and D’Lo’s expletives of praise. Dr. Green sent them out while we discussed the miracle of life and my new schedule.

  That was nine months ago, back when senior year was just beginning. Now graduation was right around the corner, and I’d learned enough about delivering colts and impregnating cows to handle anything that might come up on a farm. On our farm. The one Jackson’s daddy’d give us after we got married.

  Jackson and I’d talked about it for a while, and working for the doc was part of our plan. Soon I’d escape my broken home and start a new life. A better life.

  A cramp stabbing my ribs brought me back to the Here and Now. I was late, and last day or not, Dr. Green would fuss.

  “My assistants must be punctual,” he’d say. “It’s difficult being the only vet in a farming community.”

  I exhaled slowly as a bead of sweat tickled a path down the middle of my back, and I tried to keep the dirt out of my Keds.

  Back when the 911 service came through, most of these roads got numbers or real names besides “Shortcut to the Creek” or “Road Where the Broke-down House Used to Be.” But there were still a few like this one, “Old School Road,” that you only knew what to do with if you grew up in our little town of less than a thousand people. It didn’t matter, though. Strangers never stopped in Dabb Creek.

  That should’ve been my first warning.

  If I hadn’t been so focused on being late, I might’ve paid more attention to the strange man standing on the shoulder looking lost. Bad manners or not, I didn’t have time to give directions or to explain how far it was back to town.

  It wasn’t until I was up on him that I realized he was watching me, studying the pace of my feet. Then I saw the body on the ground.

  I skipped like a rabbit to the other side of the road, a scream forming in my mouth, but another man sprung up behind me. A rough cloth clamped over my mouth, and in two breaths, everything went dark.

  * * *

  I kept waking up.

  I learned fast that was a problem because every time I opened my eyes and started to move, a voice with a strange, clipped accent said, “This one’s awake.”

  Another rough cloth would go over my mouth and nose, and I’d be out again.

  The first time I opened my eyes, I was in the back of a big, covered truck. My head bumped against the hard bed, so I lifted it away and looked around the dim space. Other lumps lay beside me on the floor, and seated against the sides were what seemed to be guards in green, coverall-style jumpsuits.

  I tried to sit up, but my arms and legs felt heavy like lead weights. I managed to push myself higher, and through blurry eyes, I was pretty sure I saw my friend Flora Magee. Just as I leaned forward to check, I heard the voice.

  “This one’s awake.”

  Everything went black.

  * * *

  I opened my eyes, and my first thought was metal. I was in a closet-sized room with a cheap aluminum chair. A fluorescent light flickered above me. Harsh chemical smells met my nose, and I was lying in nothing but my underwear on a cot.

  A woman quickly entered and my heartbeat ticked up. She wore the same coveralls, but she had a white mask over her nose and mouth and plastic gloves on her hands. She walked straight to my side without even looking at my face, as if she were following routine.

  Before I could speak, she lifted a metal, gun-looking device with a glass cylinder on the side and pressed it against my upper arm. A trigger pull, and a pinch hit me like a bee sting.

  “Ouch!” I cried, and her black eyes snapped to mine.

  I jerked back at the sight of them—pitch-black with no pupils. Her glance moved behind me, and I saw her nod slightly. We weren’t alone.

  Rough cloth over my face. Fade to black.

  * * *

  The third time I opened my eyes, I was in a bed. It was dark, and except for the loud scree of the cicadas, everything was quiet. I took a deep breath of faint, bleached mildew, and I knew I should be panicking. I should be freaking out, but for some reason I wasn’t. I could think how I should feel, name the emotions in my brain, but they were missing. My body was artificially calm. My brain formed the word controlled.

  Five metal bunk beds filled a room divided in half by a stiff wooden partition. I couldn’t make out who else was with me in the darkness, so I stared at the bunk above trying to piece together what had happened to me. The truck, the room… Me in places I didn’t recognize with people I didn’t know. Flora. Where was Flora? How long had I been here?

  It seemed like they got me yesterday, but I wasn’t sure. I rolled onto my side, and a stingy pull itched on the skin of my right arm. I slid my hand over it and felt a Band-Aid stretched across a cotton ball. The gun. The bee sting. The lady with the black eyes. Despite whatever drugs coursed through my veins, my heart managed to beat faster.

  A loud tone cut through the silence, followed by a metal clatch at the door. The stiff wooden partition slowly retracted, uniting our side with another room of five metal bunk beds. I sat up quickly when two guards stepped inside. The air grew tense, my breathing fast. The men were tall, with fair hair and pale eyes, but the main thing I noticed were the guns. Both held rifles.

  A voice squawked through a metal intercom hanging above the door. My eyes jerked from our armed hosts to the speaker that was so ancient, I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman addressing us.

  “That is the signal for Team One. Any time that sound is heard, the following names will immediately report to their next assignment…”

  As I listened, my eyes traveled around the room. With the partition open, I could see we’d been separated, male from female while we slept. Now we were all together. A few faces I recognized, but none were really close friends. Some were younger than me, and a few were older. I couldn’t see a pattern to the group. We were male, female, black, white.

  What was this? Panic kept trying to rise in my chest, but as it would grow stronger, I could feel it disseminate. My thoughts would flatten, and again I thought controlled.

  “…Prentiss Puckett, Yolanda Roberts, …”

  I was on Team One, whatever that meant, with Yolanda Roberts. Hers was a name I knew well, but only because she’d never liked me. Worse. She’d always made a point to avoid me. I strained my eyes looking for any other friends. Maybe Flora was here?

  It was hard to tell who was who with the grey metal beds blocking my sight. Many of the bodies were still hunched under blankets. A pair of grey coveralls lay at the foot of my bunk, and I stepped into them as the voice continued.

  “Each morning, Team One will report to the dining hall first to eat and receive their work assignments for the day. Team Two will follow this tone…”

  A slightly higher pitch rang out and the voice droned on. “Each morning, Team Two will begin work assignments first and enter the dining hall after Team One has left.”

  At last! I spied my brother Braxton at th
e far end of the room. Braxton was five years older than me, and I imagined running to him, telling him I was okay, asking him what was happening. But those men with the guns kept me in my place.

  Braxton didn’t seem to see them. He was staring at the floor with a blank expression, like he was trying to find his way in the dark. Like he was lost.

  Another spasm of fear squeezed my chest and was quickly controlled. The internal up and down was starting to make me nauseated. I’d never taken drugs, which made me extra sensitive to their side-effects.

  “Today, you will remain together,” the voice finished.

  The guards turned to the side as if to escort us, and on cue, we all formed a single line. As the second row fell into step, I spotted D’Lo. He was hard to miss at his height and skin color—he was the color of pure ebony and almost seven foot, but he was also acting like my brother, vacant, sleepwalking.

  Bravery be damned, I wanted to cry. Then I wanted to cry more because I couldn’t cry. I wanted to go home. I wanted my daddy, which was stupid and sick. He couldn’t do anything. No, I wanted Jackson. Was he here? My eyes darted around the group. I had to find him. He’d know what to do.

  The person in front of me led the way in controlled silence through the exit. Outside, I looked up at the trees and around the nondescript, south-Mississippi woods. I tried to see a location marker, anything I recognized, but it was just like any other mess of pines mixed with oaks and the occasional magnolia. My last memory was walking the dirt road to Doc Green’s. Was he here?

  Wood-framed doors with mesh metal screens opened to a cafeteria-style building where long metal tables were arranged in six rows. Our lines were stopped and broken at the benches in front of each. Then we were led down the rows and instructed to sit.

  Two guards with rifles walked to the centers and ends of each table. All the guards were the same height, almost six foot, and they either had light-blond hair and fair skin or copperish hair and skin. They also had those identical black eyes. Muscadine eyes, the old-timers would say, except theirs were too much black, not enough brown.

  What looked like the leader stepped to the middle of the room. She wore coveralls like the rest of us, except hers were dark blue, and her white-blonde hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. Her pale blue eyes set her apart from the rest.

  “Please give me your attention.” Her clear voice was strong, and she had that same clipped accent. “Despite how this appears, we mean you no harm. You will only be held here temporarily.”

  More soldiers quickly moved through the room setting plates in front of us. We were all given generous portions of steak and eggs with biscuits on the side. I was scared to touch it.

  “The farm will supply your food, but you must work.” The woman continued. “Your assignments will not be difficult, and each afternoon when it is most hot, you will be allowed to rest.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. A war must’ve started when I was walking to Doc’s. The Russians had invaded or something. They probably joined forces with the Chinese like my daddy always said they would, and I didn’t know it because I didn’t have a car or a radio or anything.

  Still, I hadn’t heard any bombs or explosions. I hadn’t seen any smoke on the horizon. Then I remembered the man in the ditch, the body.

  It had to be a surprise attack. Like in that old movie where the soldiers quietly parachuted onto the roof of that high school and started shooting everybody and taking prisoners right in the middle of history class.

  But why take Dabb Creek? We didn’t have any resources.

  Again, I struggled against whatever was keeping me calm, but it was useless. I couldn’t make my body act right. The only thing I felt was hunger. My stomach pinched and growled as the aroma of the meat grew stronger. I didn’t remember how long it’d been since I’d eaten.

  “If you do not resist, you will be well cared-for.” The woman was still talking. “Do not make this hard. Rebels will be dealt with swiftly and finally.”

  Without a word, the kids on both sides of me picked up their forks, but I didn’t move. I’d only seen steak like this one other time. A big football recruiter had taken Jackson and me to a fancy restaurant in Hattiesburg. He was trying to get Jackson to accept a football scholarship to State. It was a nice dinner, but I knew we’d never leave Dabb Creek. That wasn’t our plan.

  “Work assignments will begin tomorrow,” the woman said. “When you’re finished, you may rest in the yard. Enjoy your meal.”

  I looked for him again. If anybody could figure this out, it was Jackson. He was always coming up with crazy ideas that worked. I was usually the one complaining, but I was always right there with him. Right there with him and our plan. If Jackson wasn’t here, where did that leave me?

  The sound of utensils clinking against metal plates was the only noise in the room. I lifted my chin to get a better look, but I caught the black eyes of a guard and quickly ducked back to the plate in front of me. I picked up my fork, but I couldn’t eat. My throat was too tight and my chest hurt. The only people I’d seen that I knew were Yolanda, Braxton, and D’Lo. Jackson wasn’t here.

  A breath caught in my chest, but I fought despair. Jackson knew these woods better than anybody, and if something went down, if somebody invaded the United States, he’d survive. He’d run. He’d hide out in the woods and trap and fish, and wherever he was, he’d wait for me.

  Maybe I wasn’t the planner, but I’d get with Braxton and D’Lo—and Yolanda if she’d help me—and we’d all work together from the inside. We’d form one of those secret alliances and bust out of here.

  Or maybe the Army would’ve found us by then. Dabb Creek was pretty remote, and I guess we didn’t really contribute much to the world at large, but we were still Americans. Surely they were coming for us. If they could…

  Either way, Jackson and I had always taken care of each other. I had to believe he was okay. He was my best friend, my future.

  A few deep breaths, and the hot mist receded from my eyes. Hunger twisted my stomach again, and I glanced around. Nobody was passing out or throwing up, and if they needed us to work their farm, it didn’t make sense for these Communists or whoever they were to kill us.

  I slowly cut a slice of meat, and juice seeped out. It was pink in the center and melted in my mouth, rich and salty. I waited a few minutes, but I didn’t feel sick. I wanted more. The eggs were light and fluffy, buttery with a touch of salt. They seemed safe to eat as well. I watched as the others tore off pieces of their biscuits, and I decided to finish my plate.

  Back in the yard, I’d get with Braxton and D’Lo, and we’d get the lay of the land. I was good at sneaking out, and I was little enough that I could probably escape without being missed. Then I’d find Jackson, and we’d decide what to do next.

  Chapter 2

  The images were so vivid, it was like I was home again, lying in my bed upstairs, listening to Daddy and Braxton fight.

  My brother quoted the Bible like always. “Wine is a mocker. Strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.”

  “Doesn’t that Bible say something about honoring your parents?” Daddy’s voice slurred. It made my stomach clench up.

  After Mamma died, Daddy started drinking every night until he’d finally pass out on the couch or go to his own room to sleep it off. That was bad enough until Braxton found Jesus and became a traveling evangelist. Now my brother hounded him until Daddy either staggered off to his bedroom early or punched him in the face, depending on what kind of a day it’d been. Braxton, of course, would always turn the other cheek. The whole thing made me sick.

  “I know you’re hurtin, but Jesus can take that pain away,” my brother said.

  I couldn’t figure out why he was so bound and determined to badger our father to death.

  “Shut up, Braxton.” Daddy’s voice tightened, and from the sound of it, this was going to be a punch in the face kind of night.

  I crept to my door and turned the lo
ck even though I knew they wouldn’t come up here. Still it made me feel less likely to get caught as I slipped back to my window and raised it. I tiptoed across the roof to the sweet gum tree that grew at the corner of the house.

  “I love you, Daddy…” I heard Braxton say as my bare feet touched the damp earth. I took off running before the first punch was thrown.

  Running helped ease the pressure in my chest, and by the time I was at Jackson’s house, I was calm. I pulled myself up through the oak tree until I was at his window. It slid out of my hands when I leaned forward to lift it, and Jackson’s face smiled at me through the dark opening.

  “At it again?” His soft tenor erased all the pain.

  I nodded, letting him help me into his room. We went over and curled up together in his twin bed, his arm encircling my waist.

  “Your brother is some kind of persistent.” Jackson’s voice was at my ear, warming me and sending little tingles under my skin.

  “He just worries about Daddy.”

  “My daddy ever waled on me like that, I’d be out of here.”

  Jackson rolled onto his back, and I rolled toward him, laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. I’d been running to Jackson’s house to spend the night since seventh grade. That was when things really started getting bad at home.

  “When we build our own place, I want to have windows on the ceiling,” Jackson said, gesturing with one arm as the fingers of his other hand combed through my stringy hair. “It’ll be like we’re sleeping under the stars.”

  “Daddy said I got to get a job. Start pulling my own weight.”

  “Your daddy don’t remember half the shit he says.” He rubbed my back. “’sides. You’re only fifteen.”

  “Still, if we’re going to have some fancy house with windows on the ceiling, I probably ought to know how to do something.” I propped up on my elbow so I could see his face. “I thought maybe I’d be a doctor. I like giving shots.”