by Brenna Lyons
Sarah rolled off of the padded table. She was stiff and shaky when she made it to her feet. The first man reached out to steady her.
She jerked away from his outstretched hand, flattening herself against the wall. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
He put a hand up to keep his counterpart from using more of that spray on her. Her mind whirled. Was it stun-spray they used on her? She vaguely remembered one of them saying it was. It would make sense. Sarah could appreciate why no one wanted to experience it twice.
The man took a slow, deep breath as if in relief. “There’s a restroom in there. You can clean up and use the toilet. There are clothes for you to change into.”
Sarah nodded and fled to the small room, closing the lockless door behind her. She tried to reach Steven again, but the psi wave extended here. She shut her eyes, fighting back her panic. They wouldn’t give her much time in here. Sarah completed her bathroom routine as best as she could. There was no shower, but there was soap at the sink. There was also a toothbrush, toothpaste and a brush. She stopped short of changing into the Clinton coveralls.
The guard who tried to touch her raised an eyebrow as she came out. “You didn’t change.”
“Nor do I intend to. I don’t belong here. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I didn’t ask to come here. I’m not required to wear that rag.”
He nodded. “Okay. I won’t force you to wear it.” He motioned to an air mattress and a tray of food that had been placed on the floor while she was in the restroom. The table was gone. “Make yourself comfortable, Sarah.”
She felt her mouth go dry. Sarah shook her head as she inched toward the outer door. She couldn’t stay in here. She didn’t want to stay in here. “I can’t— He promised.” No. He promised to let her out of the restraints not out of iso. “I promised. I haven’t hurt anyone. I won’t hurt anyone.” Sarah stopped herself from admitting that she couldn’t hurt anyone.
The other guard blocked her way. “We can’t let you out of here, yet. You know the rules. It’s a minimum of two days for incoming prisoners.”
“I’m not a danger.” I’m not a prisoner, but they won’t believe that. “Please—You have my word. He said they’d take my word for it, the headmaster.”
The first guard tried to take her arm, but Sarah dodged away from him toward the restroom.
He shook his head sadly. “In a day or two. You have my word on that. Behave, and they won’t extend your time in here.” His voice was pleading with her for understanding.
She slid to the floor in the corner, willing herself not to cry. They may see it on the camera, but they wouldn’t see it in person. Sarah wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. It was all she had left. They left without any further comment, and she curled her bare feet under her and let the tears fall. She shook with the force of her sobs.
When she was cried out, Sarah staggered to the air mattress with its beige paper blanket. She laughed harshly. They left her with no belt, no shoestrings, and no linens she could use to harm or defend herself. The blanket would keep her warm, but was useless as a noose or garrote. Steven told her about these blankets.
Sarah crawled onto the bed, sinking into the soft, velvety top. She looked at the food, but her stomach rebelled at the thought of actually eating it. There was no glass or stoneware and no silverware, not even plastic silverware. There were plastic cups of milk and juice, a sandwich, chips, and sliced fruit.
She closed her eyes and rolled away, wrapping the blanket around her. Was it lunchtime? It seemed like a lunch-style meal. She had no way of knowing for sure. She had no real concept of day or night. Sarah hadn’t been wearing a watch, but even if she had, it would be gone. Her ring and bracelet were gone.
Sarah considered her position. They were required by law to provide her with three meals a day. She’d use that as her clock. It was noon. When dinner came, it would be six. Breakfast would be eight. It wasn’t much, but it would keep her sane.
*
Sarah kept her eyes closed, though she knew the door had opened. She recognized the guard’s voice, the one who was pleading for her understanding.
“You have to eat, Sarah. Think of your baby.”
“Why? So you can use us against Jonas or so you can take my baby from me? Where’s the up side for my baby or for me?”
“It’s not like that. They wouldn’t—”
She snorted. “Sure, like they wouldn’t kidnap me off a city street with stun-spray when I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“The file says—”
“Shove it.”
“Who’s Jonas?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
“You will,” she promised. She didn’t know what to believe, but Sarah was much more inclined to believe Jonas since the conversation in that dark van. Those men seemed honestly frightened of Jonas, and they were using her against him. Sarah couldn’t read them while she was stun-sprayed, but she was inclined to believe that they weren’t acting. Fear isn’t an easy emotion to fake that realistically.
The guard’s hand touched her shoulder. Sarah tensed but she didn’t give in to the urge to hit him. Physical assault would extend her time in iso. Steven had tried it often enough to know.
“Is Jonas the baby’s father?”
Sarah closed her eyes and turned further away, wrenching her shoulder out of his hand. She wasn’t playing whatever game he was. The time for games had ended. This was war.
He sighed. “Sarah, please eat. If you don’t, they’ll force it down you. They’ll restrain you again and use IVs if they have to.”
When she didn’t answer, he left the room quietly. Sarah pulled the blanket over her head, cutting out the smell of roast chicken.
*
May 12th
The guard didn’t ask her to eat the next morning. He stared at the tray for a long moment before taking it away. Of course, they would have seen the disastrous results of her attempt to stomach the milk and juice on the cameras. They weren’t supposed to have cameras in the restrooms, but they could probably hear her vomiting in the main room with the door slightly ajar as it was.
Except for using the restroom, Sarah hadn’t left the bed since she crawled in it. What was there to do? She kept the mantra alive in her head. Lunchtime tomorrow is two days since I woke. If I don’t attack anyone, I’ll be free then.
She tried not to dwell on the comment the other guard made. At least two days…
No. They can’t keep me here longer than that. I haven’t done anything wrong.
When the guard left, she looked at the tray and groaned. Her mouth watered. It seemed that someone was stacking the deck. This meal wasn’t caf fare like the others. Her favorites were laid out before her, tempting Sarah and teasing her starved senses. That was all she had in here between her guard’s visits, the sound of her own voice and the smell of food, soap and sweat.
Breakfast was Belgian waffles, precut for her, with maple and walnuts, sausage, peaches and cream, and hot chocolate. It was a mountain of food. As if making her decision for her, her stomach voiced its complaint.
Sarah ate slowly, savoring every bite. At least they feed their abductees. She only ate half of the huge meal before her stomach gave her a warning that she was overdoing it and risking a repeat of the previous night. Sarah put down her plastic spork with a sigh of regret.
She headed to the restroom. Sarah looked at the coverall and sighed. Her sweater was ripped, and her clothing smelled foul. She’d been in them for two nights and more than a day. No. I may have to concede defeat when it comes to eating, but what I wear is another subject altogether.
Sarah brushed her teeth and hair, scowling at how greasy her hair was. She could wash her face and hands. She could wash her arms and chest if she didn’t mind getting her jeans soaked in the process, but with only a small tea towel, there was little else she could manage unless she got really desperate and inventive.
She scowled at her reflection and re
turned to the bed. Sarah stared at the ceiling until her eyes started playing tricks on her. Startling bursts of color danced on the surface of the white backdrop. She fell asleep to the hypnotic sight.
*
Lunch was an egg salad sandwich, carrot sticks with Green Goddess dressing as a dip, cheese cubes, milk, apple juice, and cherry pie ala mode. She managed to eat most of it.
When the guard came in with her dinner, he spoke the first words he had all day. “Considering changing your clothes yet?”
“Not seriously. I can’t even shower in here. What’s the point in changing clothes?”
“Your choice. I won’t force you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Something I don’t know?”
“Something you do know.” He shrugged as he collected up her lunch plates. “Everyone wears the coveralls here.”
Sarah shook her head. “Students and inmates wear the coveralls. I’m neither. I’m a prisoner of war.”
“You sure eat better than a prisoner.” He nodded toward the fried shrimp, calamari, stuffed mushrooms, steamed vegetables, garlic mashed potatoes and raspberry cobbler on her plate with a grimace.
“Only because your bosses know what Jonas will do if I’m not well cared for.”
“Who is Jonas?”
She met his eyes. “Pray you don’t ever find out.”
Sarah wasn’t released at lunchtime the next day. Her guard made it clear that she wouldn’t be until she wore the Clinton coveralls. Sarah steeled her nerves, believing nothing could change her mind. She could survive iso. She’d done it for more than two days. She could do it as long as she needed to.
*
May 13th
Katie rubbed her forehead. Her entire body ached. She never realized how draining the constant use of talent was. Even fighting Ty hadn’t been this intense. Jonas did this on a regular basis? She shook her head. No wonder Evan looked like an old man at forty-one.
“No, Keith. No news yet,” she grumbled into the phone.
“It’s been three days. Steven’s never been out of contact with Sarah this long.”
“I know.”
“How is he?”
“Bad. He needs her. Knowing she’s at Clinton makes it all the worse. You know how he feels about the academies.” Katie sighed. “How’s it going on the home front?”
“Dad got Steven a leave of absence.”
“Good. How’d he manage that?”
“Family emergency.”
She could almost picture Keith’s shrug.
“Dad’s a senior partner.”
“He didn’t tell them anything, did he?”
“No. He jokingly said he’d promise them another big talent’s rights case without giving them details to buy Steven more time if we need it.”
Katie sighed. “I hope we’ll have her back before then.”
“I—” Keith groaned into the phone.
“What is it?”
“Mac and the guys.”
“Oh, hell. How bad is it?”
Mac’s voice came on the line. “You tell me, Katie. What is going on that Keith won’t tell us? Where have you and Steven gone?”
“I can’t tell you that, Mac.”
“Katie—”
“There’s too much riding on this. If we screw up—”
“Who? Tell me who has Sarah, and we’ll end this.”
“It’s not that simple. I wish it was.”
“You’re a Randall, Katie. If they can pin you as a renegade—”
“It may already be too late for that, Mac.” She ran her fingers over the DoPT badge in her back pocket that announced her as Alpha Three. “Everything we’re doing is in defense of our family, but that may not be enough to save us. I’ll accept that if Sarah is safe.”
“Katie,” he warned her.
“She’s pregnant, Mac. They know it, and they made it clear that they’ll exploit that or anything else they have to get what they want.”
“Christ. Where is Jonas? Does he know?”
“He’s with us.”
“Why?”
Katie rolled her forehead against the wall beside the phone. “He’s talent, Mac. Sarah didn’t tell us, because she didn’t want us to worry about her.”
“She wanted this?”
“She wants Jonas. She wants him enough that being talent ceased to matter to her.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Keep the guys out of our way. If they investigate this one, they’ll get hurt.”
“By you or Jonas?”
“Neither. Leave it alone, Mac. If they don’t hurt you, they might hurt Sarah as a warning.”
“I don’t like this, Katie.”
“Neither do I, but we have to play their game.” For now.
“What assurances do we have that they won’t hurt her?”
Katie grimaced. “They won’t unless we force their hand. She’s a Randall, and she’s pregnant.”
“They’re afraid of you and Steven?”
“No. They want a Randall baby.”
Mac sucked in his breath.
“We’ll do our best, Mac. She’s safe for seven or eight months if you keep the guys out of this.”
“Will do.”
*
May 15th
It was two more days before Sarah broke down and put on the coverall. The lack of stimulation got to her. She could handle the absence of books and TV, but five days without conversation—worse, with no emotions touching her mind—pushed Sarah over the edge.
Her guard smiled as he led her from the iso tank to her room. Dinner was waiting and the room had a full bath, but neither held appeal for her. Sarah curled on the bed and let the emotions wash over her. She shivered in the familiar input, dropping her shield to drink in as much sensation as she could bear. Sarah started to cry.
*
Steven stumbled then stopped and sank to one of the benches along the boardwalk. She was there. After five days, Sarah was there.
He reached out to touch her unshielded mind. “Sarah?”
Steven felt the riot of emotions as they washed over her. She was crying so hard, she couldn’t think. Sarah was happy, sad, lonely, sick. She was in hysterics.
He dropped his face into his hands and stifled a sob. “God, Sarah. Please talk to me.”
“Steven? It’s really you?” He could feel her disbelief.
“What did they do? Are you okay?” Who was he kidding? She wasn’t okay.
Sarah started laughing hysterically, then she was crying again. “Isolation. Please don’t leave me, Steven. Please don’t.”
“Iso?” He slid off the bench to the cement, rubbing the tight spot in his chest. “Christ! Why?” She spent five days in iso? He had hoped she was drugged into unconsciousness. Steven remembered his own time in iso. He was a basket case after a few hours.
“They won, Steven. I have to play by their rules. I’m a prisoner. I can’t go in there again.”
He felt her guilt and exhaustion clearly. Sarah felt guilty for caving after five days?
“Five days, Sarah. I could never have lasted that long.” He couldn’t let her feel guilty for that. How could she survive five days?
“I wasn’t in restraints, Steven. I still folded.”
“You weren’t?”
She hesitated, and he felt her fear, her panic. They’d used the restraints on Sarah. Nothing else would make her feel that terror.
He fisted his hand in his shirt and stared at the ocean through the tears gathering in his eyes. “Sarah?” If he knew for sure that they used restraints on her, there would be hell to pay when this was over.
“At first… They wanted to show me what would happen.”
“You can’t. They can’t do this.” How long was she in restraints? He wouldn’t ask her that.
“They have a fake file, Steven. They don’t believe me. They—wear E-shields. I don’t know what they think I can do.” She was desperate.
Evan was right. There was no way for he
r to prove she was telling the truth.
“Play along, Sarah. Leave the rest to us.”
Her mind went dead still. “No Steven. Don’t do this for me. Don’t let them use me against you.”
“We’re doing only as much as we have to. You stay safe. Do whatever you have to do to stay out of iso.” He hesitated. “Take care of that baby.” That was half of their hold. That was half of her protection. Without the baby, there were much worse things they could do to Sarah.
She started crying again, what he was sure were hard, wracking sobs. “Does Jonas know?”
“He’s worried sick. Let me give him good news next time.”
Sarah was fading, the exhaustion winning. Steven started to draw back, but Sarah’s grip tightened on his mind like a vice. When did she learn that trick? It was almost like a binding, but Sarah had no offensive talents.
“Please don’t leave me, Steven.”
“I won’t leave you. I’ll always be here.” He brushed against her mind softly.
Sarah started to fade off again, her grip loosening as she gave in to her need for sleep.
“I’ll never desert you, Sarah. I’ll always be here.”
Her mind was muddled. “Tell Jonas I love him. Tell him— Sorry I hit him, Steven. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She sank into a troubled sleep. Steven stayed with her for almost an hour, stroking her mind in comfort whenever he felt her fear or upset.
When he finally pushed to his feet, walking to the hotel room was nearly impossible. He was stiff and sore. Worse, he found himself reaching to Sarah almost constantly, reassuring himself that they hadn’t locked her away from him again. Steven pushed the door open and walked past the others without comment.
Evan checked his watch and scowled at him. “Where the hell have you been? You should have checked in forty-five minutes ago.”
Steven couldn’t answer. He curled into one of the armchairs near the window with his knees as close to his chest as he could pull them. He stared at the barely-visible caps of waves, at a loss for words, his hand picking at the front of his shirt where he had fisted it earlier.
