Jaden washed himself, sweat and urine rinsing away, spiraling into the drain. The tension and fear did not clean as easily.
The water turned off and Jaden dropped the soap and watched it slide. A towel and new set of clothes had been left on the sink. He dried himself and dressed as fast as possible, his fingers fumbling as they trembled.
Alan was gone. He was alone again.
Jaden walked wearily to the corner of the bed but did not sit. He wedged himself between the bed and the wall, the only private place, where gazes of the hidden men behind the mirror could not find him. With his knees to his chest, Jaden stopped holding back and allowed himself to cry.
He wanted so badly to hold Bear and smell his familiar scent. Thinking of Bear made him ache. Shaking fingers still numb and eyes still blurry, Jaden wiped at his eyes again, tears streaming freely. He thought vaguely of Derek and Jenny, but their faces swam away as another floated to the surface: a pointy face, long, sandy blonde hair, and wild eyes. Was she thinking of him, too, wondering where her lost boy had gone? Had they told her Jaden was missing? Would she even care? Even in that desperate moment, Jaden knew she must. At least he hoped.
What felt like a few hours later, Alan came with a tray of food: a tall stack of pancakes, three fried eggs, two strips of bacon. Alan set the tray on the floor across the room from Jaden.
“You have to stay there until I leave,” Alan said. He gave Jaden a sad smile.
Jaden nodded, and Alan left. Privacy had to be stolen, so he took the tray to his corner. He was shockingly hungry and devoured the pancakes in a few short minutes, surprised by their delicious taste.
If he was going to resist, and he was certain he would, a hunger strike was foolish. Dalton had proven victorious in that arena, and rebelling had wounded himself, not Dalton. No, he would have to find another area of resistance. Performing PK unintentionally was a mistake, but one he couldn’t avoid. Psychokinesis had always been there to protect him, and that was unlikely to change. He would have to be on his guard and expect to be frightened. It was through fear and endangerment he achieved supernatural feats.
He needed rules, a set of guidelines to keep him clear of trouble and prevent him from relinquishing too much control. Obviously he had already lost some ground, but not all of it. Humiliation was to be avoided at all costs. When it came to a decision of sacrificing his dignity or doing what Dalton asked, he would do what Dalton asked. What he had left was little but precious: his thoughts and his mind. No matter what Dalton or his staff did, they could never control what he thought or planned. That was his.
Dalton knew he was getting to Jaden, a fact Jaden abhorred. So far Dalton showed no sign of being bothered by Jaden’s outbursts, acts of violence, or disobedience. He was only concerned about breaking schedules. From now on Jaden would act similarly. He would not succumb to his fear or terrible sadness. He would pretend to be fine, amused even, with what was going on. This would take a great deal of practice, but it was essential to keeping his sanity and mind.
six
Jaden pumped his legs into the air, gaining more altitude. It was a bright day, not a cloud in the sky, the grass a perfect shade of green. Each hand held onto a plastic-covered chain so kids wouldn’t get their hair caught in the links. He pumped the air in and out. In and out. He swung so high there were moments when all he saw was sky, and as he swung the other way, the ground.
It was quiet, not even the chain creaked on the metal pole as he swung.
A boy was out in the distance, his face blurry, or maybe the boy was too far to clearly see his face. The boy waved.
Jaden dragged his feet on the sandy ground, bringing him to a gentle stop. There was something familiar about the boy.
“Hello,” Jaden said.
The faceless boy waved again.
“Do you want to come and play?” Jaden asked.
The boy appeared to shrug, but Jaden wasn’t sure. It wasn’t just the boy’s face that was blurry, the edges and lines of the boy were indistinguishable.
Jaden squinted and started for the boy, wanting to get a better look, or maybe to introduce himself. No matter how long he ran toward the other boy, he never got closer.
“Who are you?” Jaden asked.
The faceless boy folded his hands.
I don’t feel it.
“What?” Jaden asked.
I don’t feel it.
Jaden squinted as the sun suddenly brightened, and the park dissolved into blinding white light.
“Are you awake?” Dalton asked, his face close to Jaden’s. He was frowning thoughtfully, flashing a light in Jaden’s eyes.
Jaden rolled onto his stomach and pulled the blanket over his head. He was exhausted, and sore from being tense the day before. Shutting his eyes and nuzzling his face into the pillow, Jaden sighed and tried going back to sleep. He expected Dalton to object; shockingly he did not.
He drifted in and out of sleep for a time, trying to return to the dream he had been having before being rudely woken. There had been a park, the rest was blank.
Dalton sat on the floor on the other side of the room, reading. Jaden swung his legs over the bed and rubbed his face, trying to remember his new rules but wanting to abandon them as Dalton watched Jaden watch him.
“How did you sleep?” Dalton asked.
You’re an evil son of a bitch, you human piece of garbage. I hope you die a horrible, painful, twisting death with barbed wire and blood. I would’ve slept better in my own bed at home with the people I had grown to like, you stupid shit face.
“Fine,” Jaden said. He hopped out of bed to use the bathroom and thought of a hundred more snide remarks he wished to say. While in the bathroom, Jaden brushed his teeth. Keeping his mouth occupied stopped him from mocking Dalton. Some boys needed reminding to take care of themselves, he had never been one of them. Brushing his teeth made him feel a little better; he’d take what he could.
Dalton sat cross-legged on the floor when Jaden returned. Today Dalton wore a green striped tie. It was the only color in the room.
“How are you feeling?” Dalton asked.
How am I feeling? Splendid. Yesterday (or what I think was yesterday) I had a gun shoved in my face and was tied to a table so I couldn’t run, only to learn the gun was never loaded, you just wanted to scare the shit out of me so I’d do what you wanted. I’m sore, my wrists are bruised, and I want to beat your face with a hammer. Other than, oh I’m just peachy.
“A little sore,” Jaden said.
Dalton stood and came towards Jaden, who wanted to retreat. Showing fear violated his new rules. Jaden rooted his feet and let Dalton advance.
“Let me see your hands,” Dalton said.
Jaden had never liked people touching him, even people he knew. But if he didn’t show Dalton his hands, what would Dalton do next?
He thrust out his hands and Dalton took them. Jaden’s swollen wrists had turned purple and blue overnight.
“You shouldn’t have pulled so hard,” Dalton said, dropping them.
Jaden bit his lip to keep from screaming. So this was all his fault, then. Of course. He shouldn’t have pulled so hard. He was an idiot for trying to get away from someone who was trying to shoot him!
“Well, I’ll try to remember that next time someone aims a gun at my head,” Jaden said casually. He crossed his arms.
Dalton chuckled. “We won’t be doing that again, we got what we needed.”
Oh goody. He couldn’t be this close to Dalton anymore, so he lay in his bed and stared at the light. It wasn’t bright enough to blind him, maybe he could damage his brain another way.
Dalton followed and Jaden pretended he didn’t notice. “There’s another exercise today. After you’ve had your breakfast I’ll meet you for it.”
Jaden sat up. “Will there be any concealed weapons involved?” he asked.
“None at all,” Dalton said, looking him straight in the eye. “No, after analyzing the data from yesterday I think you can move t
o stage two. There’s no need to keep you in stage one.”
Jaden wanted to ask what the hell stages one and two were, but then Dalton would know he was curious, and he was trying to keep as much to himself as possible. Moving up levels couldn’t be good, it meant he was giving them what they wanted.
“Fine,” Jaden said, failing to keep a note of disdain from his voice. He fell back in bed, wishing he could kick something. Dalton left.
What was stage one? If he was in stage one and ready for stage two, he should know his current stage. So he considered it. Yesterday, during the flash gun exercise, they’d bored then scared him. That’s when he’d performed PK, transferring the gun from William’s hand and into his control. After some reflection, Jaden discovered a critical error. The first two incidences were reactionary: the gun flew from William’s hand. The third time he got control of the weapon. He controlled it without trying. That’s why Dalton had been pleased.
Crap. Stage one was not controlling it. Stage two was control.
Actually, he thought, maybe that was a good thing. He just wouldn’t do it. He didn’t know how anyway, so there was little danger. Stage two would always be out of range.
Breakfast was cinnamon toast and juice. He washed his hands, brushed his teeth again, and waited for Dalton to come retrieve him.
But Dalton did not come, a new person came to collect him instead. This man was tall, dark skinned, and gave Jaden an impression of strictness. The new stranger said little, and Jaden said little back. Jaden followed him out the cell, through the hallways, and into a second testing room, different though similar to the previous. Jaden thought it must only be separated from the room he’d been in yesterday by the observation area in between them. The mirror was on his right; the room empty. No table, no benches, only the padded walls and floor.
The dark man pushed him inside, and the door shut. Jaden was alone. Why did they take him out of his room, where he was already alone, and put him inside this new one?
The door opened again and Martin, the thinner man with a military haircut, came inside with Dalton. Martin, shorter than Casey and with darker hair, carried a long pole, and Jaden watched him affix something to the ceiling: a small hook with an adhesive base. Thinking this couldn’t be good, Jaden looked to Dalton for an explanation. Dalton had his hands in his pockets and watched Martin.
“Perfect,” he said.
Martin came at Jaden now, with handcuffs.
Jaden retreated as Martin advanced.
“Do we need to get other people in here? Or are you going to behave?” Dalton asked. “I promise no one is going to threaten you today.”
The idea of being chained, when he was already trapped in an underground facility, only added to his fragile emotional state.
“That makes me feel much better,” Jaden said through gritted teeth, not able to help it.
“Come on, kid,” Martin said, “the sooner we get this done the sooner—”
“What?” Jaden asked. “You’ll let me go? Why should I do what you want?” he asked. Martin circled him, but gave Dalton a pleading glance.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dalton said.
“Then don’t!” Jaden yelled.
Martin steered Jaden into a corner. Jaden waited until Martin got closer then kicked at him. Expecting the attack, Martin caught Jaden’s foot, yanked him so Jaden fell on his back, then he spun him and put his knee into Jaden’s back. Martin took one hand, then the other, and cuffed him.
Because his wrists were already raw from yesterday, the cuffs added an extra element of pain today. When Martin released him, Jaden rolled onto his side and swung his legs around so he was at least in a sitting position. He did not look at Dalton or Martin but stared at a spot on the floor.
Martin made a show of taking the silver key and placing it on the tip of the pole. He used the pole to hang the key on the hook glued to the ceiling.
“So,” Dalton started, “you get the key, unlock yourself, and the exercise is over.” That was the simple explanation he gave, delivered as if the task was easy and obvious.
Jaden waited until Dalton and Martin left before looking at the key and deciding, as he stared at it high above him, that he would sit here until they came and got him. He was not going to get the key, he didn’t know how anyway.
He leaned against the wall and waited, thinking.
This whole thing was quite an operation. He hadn’t given it much thought before; he had been focused on getting out. Now he was here, the size and complexity of the place impressed him. He wasn’t sure how big the facility was, or how many people like him were here. So far Jaden counted six staff members plus Dalton. There had to be a kitchen to provide food. He didn’t yet know what was inside the rooms with the mirrors, but most likely computers and other electronic equipment.
When Dalton spoke about what he needed from Jaden, he used “we” rather than “I” which was interesting.
With at least seven people working here, that meant at least seven people knew of this place, knew Jaden was here. Therefore seven people kept Jaden’s captivity a secret.
Did they have families? What did they tell their friends after a long day of keeping a nine year old boy locked in an underground facility where they forced him to do things that many considered, according to Dalton, pseudoscience? Did Martin tell his girlfriend he tackled a boy to the floor and handcuffed him? Did Casey tell his wife he watched a nine year old shower?
Then there was Dalton, the ringleader. What did he go home to? How did he explain his absences?
Jaden shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure how long or short a time he’d been in here, he felt cramped and his arms pained him. For privacy, he shimmied toward the mirrored wall and sat underneath it so he couldn’t be seen. Then he lay on his side, relaxing his arms.
He tried sleeping, but it was too bright, he wasn’t tired, and his body hurt.
The silver key glinted, dangling from the ceiling hook.
No, he would not give in. Jaden had principles and he would not perform magic tricks for people hiding behind a mirror. So he waited.
After a while though, an everyday problem reminded Jaden of a rule he made the night before: avoid humiliation. A familiar sensation grew stronger in the area of his bladder.
He came to a crossroads. Did he attempt PK and retrieve the key, unlock himself, and save his remaining dignity, or did he leave it, wet himself, and stay here for however long it took to be taken away?
He was leaning toward option number two; after all, he’d wet himself yesterday, and, though it had been horrible and humiliating, he had survived. A little mess for the staff to clean was a better idea than giving them results.
But...if he stayed here for hours, night and day, what would Dalton do next? How bad would it get before Dalton put him back? Would they force feed him again? Strip him of his clothes, wash him down, and then drape him with nothing but a sheet until he retrieved the key? Dalton would do anything to get results, as he had proved with the gun. He knew which buttons to push.
Avoiding humiliation and keeping some dignity was important. There were different levels of misery, and laying here chained like an animal was level one, but lying here sitting in his own excrement was another.
The key winked at him.
In the long run what mattered more?
Yes, but in the long run how powerful will you become?
Jaden sat up, fascinated with the thought. He had not considered the possibility of becoming stronger. In his mind’s eye, Jaden reflected on everything he had done with psychokinesis. Some acts were small, like moving the napkin tray, opening a door, the guns... Others were more impressive. He had unintentionally made an entire house shake, made the doors open and slam, and objects in the living room fly. It spooked that family so badly they thought Jaden was something otherworldly and called for spiritual reinforcement.
The memory of that short stay had always haunted him, and he tried to never th
ink of it. But now it comforted him. He could be powerful. It was power Dalton wanted, but he couldn’t have it: it was Jaden’s alone.
Was it possible to use psychokinesis to escape? Obsessed with the resistance, Jaden had not spared a thought for what he wanted. Perhaps the short term plan of escape should be the long term plan. Instead of frantically running in hopes of escape, he would have to build his strength and prepare himself. Jaden’s freedom required patience and skill.
He took a deep breath and looked at the key. Now that he decided to get it, the how was a little harder. Till now, all occurrences had been accidental. Back at the Kauffmans he tried to open a book and failed. How was he to take the key?
Jaden recalled the incidents when he performed the remarkable: he had either been terrified, or remembered the terrifying event. The first time he used PK he had a gun in his face and he thought his life was in danger. The second incident was remembering the first. Everything after was a ripple effect: things just moved and reacted without a conscious thought. Then yesterday the gun. Again, a moment of terror, when his life was in danger, a recollection of the past.
Today was different. Today was a game changer. He had to save himself, not from immediate danger, but from mortification. Eventually he had to amass enough strength to free himself from this padded prison. Yesterday he proved he could control PK, even if that control was fleeting. Jaden assumed it was like any skill—mastering it was a matter of practice.
Jaden closed his eyes, trying to remember the gun in his face, how he felt, and what had happened. The incident replayed in his mind. One second a flash card, then William drew a revolver from his waistband. It swept over Dalton’s head, pointed momentarily at Jaden’s face, then flew away. The gun swept over Dalton’s head. It aimed at Jaden’s face. What had his mind done to save him?
You flicked it away, just like that.
Jaden Baker Page 11
