Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  “I said, shut up,” he whispered. A vein throbbed in Martin’s neck, and his eyes popped. He gripped Jaden harder, Martin’s face turned redder.

  Jaden nodded. Yes, he would stop.

  Martin withdrew his hand, and ground his teeth together.

  Before he could pull away, Jaden gathered the saliva in his mouth and hocked the biggest wad of spit he could into Martin’s face. It landed on Martin’s nose, and some on his mouth.

  Wiping his face, Martin turned from Jaden. It was an opportunity Jaden couldn’t pass up. Using the corner to brace himself, Jaden worked his way up the wall and came to a stand. Martin had his hands on his hips and just as he was turning around, Jaden lunged at him, knocking Martin to the floor. Because he couldn’t use his arms to balance himself, Jaden stumbled.

  “You son of a bitch,” Martin growled. He hoisted Jaden off the floor and shoved him into a wall, holding him up by his shoulders. Martin was strong. From this angle, gravity was Jaden’s greatest ally. He spit at Martin and delivered a strong kick into his crotch.

  Doubled over in pain, Martin sunk to the floor, hands protecting his special place. Jaden kicked again, this time at Martin’s head.

  Before he could get a second shot in, the black man returned. As Jaden prepared his attack, his second guest drew a narrow, but long barreled gun from his belt. His movements were fast, but Jaden’s instincts were faster. The gun was torn from his hand, but the man apparently planned for that. He grabbed Jaden’s arm, and stuck a needle in his neck.

  The pain was momentary, a simple prick of the skin, but soon his legs wobbled, and he watched the black man’s face blur. Someone lift him and put him in bed. His eyelids fluttered for a while, and his breathing slowed. The problem solving area of his brain guessed this was the same drug used to kidnap him. With that final thought, Jaden drifted into sleep.

  Clever, clever. So tactical. No one should underestimate your resourcefulness, but I sense they’ll do it again. The arrogant are prone to mistakes, you know. Keep it up, and you’ll be free of this place sooner than you think.

  Yes, I solved a riddle. They can always hear me, even when I annoy them. There’s no way for them to not hear me. They’re not allowed to hit me.

  Daddy Dalton has forbidden them.

  I think so, too. It’s an interesting development, isn’t it? I’m more valuable than I thought.

  Jaden was nauseous upon waking. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to walk, Jaden stayed in bed and rolled onto his side. He tried remembering the dream. There was a swing-set, and something else, but what he couldn’t recall. There was something important he was forgetting, like it was just below the surface. He shook his head and instead thought of what he had discovered in his human experiment.

  The people behind the observation mirror could always hear him. The staff were not allowed to hurt him.

  If this place was a fortress, a citadel for keeping him inside, then he must index as many details as he could and take his time. He would start with the staff: a weakness waiting to be exploited. The architecture of this facility was state-of-the-art, built to keep someone just like him inside. But the staffhuman beingswere not as secure.

  Martin. He was strong; of the people behind the reflective glass, the least patient. If the black man had not interfered, Martin would have beat Jaden, he was sure of it. Beating wasn’t allowed. Jaden was important. But Martin wanted to. Pushed again, he might resort to violence if alone. Their encounter allowed Jaden a closer look. The roots of Martin’s hair had gray in them, meaning Martin was older than Jaden first guessed. Martin had no wedding band on his finger, or a white mark to signify he had removed it. Martin was single.

  The black man, still nameless, was stern, silent, and more direct than Martin. Jaden thought even under the most constant barrage of spitting, kicking, and other forms of assault, he would not lose his temper. Instead, he would deal with Jaden swiftly, like injecting him with drugs. If the black man was sent to deal with Jaden, there was nothing he could do, at least nothing he could think of, to combat him.

  William. Jaden didn’t know much about William, except he only saw him in testing situations. Maybe forty or older, William’s large beak of a nose and droopy eyes made Jaden think he was hired for different tasks. Martin, the black man, Casey, Patrick and Alan were charged with Jaden’s handling. William was technical assistance.

  The remaining staff members were mysteries. Save Alan.

  Alan, the burly blond with doggish blue eyes, was different. He called Jaden “feisty.” There was something there.

  The straight jacket was tight around him, and his arms cramped again. He desperately wanted to stretch. Thirst and hunger crept into his stomach and overpowered the nausea. How long would they keep him in this jacket, and when could he eat? Of course, his recent insurrection might have aggravated Dalton—it had certainly pissed off Martin.

  Just as Jaden’s muscles could stand no more, Dalton sauntered inside. He was wearing the same blue tie. So what felt like yesterday was actually today. Dalton came toward Jaden, hands held behind his back. A humored smile played across his lips.

  “You’ve been busy,” Dalton said.

  Jaden would have crossed his arms in response, but of course, they were already crossed. He stared at Dalton instead.

  “Douglas told me what happened here.”

  Douglas? Oh, the black man was Douglas. That would come in handy. Knowing a name was helpful.

  Dalton sat on the edge of the bed and folded his hands in his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You just did, dumb-ass,” Jaden replied. “When your voice goes up at the end of a sentence, that’s a question. Did they not teach that at med school? Oh, look, a question.” It was marvelous how annoying Dalton could be, acting like this was funny, like Jaden was a firefly trapped in an old pickle jar, sitting on his desk.

  Dalton ignored the dumb-ass comment and continued. “What do you think you’re accomplishing by all of this? There’s no way out of here. This is where you live now. I know that’s hard to accept. The longer you act out, the harder it becomes.”

  “Oh,” Jaden said. “So if I just do everything you say, everything will be great? If I do what you want, I won’t be here anymore. If I follow your every command, I’ll be magically transported out of here. Is that what you’re saying? Somehow you have a time machine, and if I perform tricks for you, you’ll send me back to the night you abducted me.”

  “You really want to go back out there? You were always in danger. Even a simple barbecue had you worried. You were afraid the people you stayed with would always hurt you. I’m having a hard time believing you want to go back to that.”

  They, whoever “they” were, had been watching Jaden. How else did they know about the barbecue? What else did they know?

  “You’re right, this is so much better.” He squirmed in his restraints. “If only you’d taken me sooner. Think of how much more fun we could’ve had.”

  Dalton nodded and moved to Jaden’s back; he unfastened the buckles and pealed off the jacket. Jaden stretched his arms, shoulders, and stomach, and arched his back on the bed.

  “Jaden.”

  “Shitbag.”

  Dalton pinched his nose and chuckled. “That’s disrespectful.”

  “It was either that or fuckface, so actually, it was more respectful.”

  “I need to continue the test, the one you interrupted with your disobedience. I don’t know why I feel obligated to make the offer, but I do. There’s an easy way, and a hard way. You can either choose the easy path, or continue making poor decisions, which will only cause you pain. I meant what I said when we first met. I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been through enough pain, you don’t need any more. You can continue you’re little rebellion for as long as you want, but eventually you’ll come around and do the right thing.”

  Little rebellion?

  Dalton. The ringleader. Everyone did as Dalton said. He was The Boss. Jaden’s hatred fo
r him aside, Dalton was quite logical. He never raised his voice. When he had something to say, he said it with honesty. But logic did not equal reason. A reasonable person, one with some kind of moral compass, would not keep a nine year old boy trapped underground. Could Dalton, logical but perhaps unreasonable, be reasoned with?

  “Why should I do anything?” Jaden asked. Where was the carrot? Why should he concede his entire being, his mental gift, to Dalton? “You said you weren’t going to let me out. What’s in it for me?”

  A strange expression, like a mixture of confusion and wonder, passed over Dalton’s face. It vanished before Jaden could analyze it. If Dalton could answer the question satisfactorily, maybe he could get what he wanted. And if Jaden went along with it, he wouldn’t be breaking his newly created rules.

  “Psychokinesis is dangerous. It’s a miracle you didn’t hurt anyone before we took you. You have to learn how to control it to keep it safe. Otherwise you could hurt people.”

  That was true. Jaden recalled being placed into his first foster home. That house had been new to him, its family a collection of strangers. Despite the reason for their separation, Jaden had missed his mother terribly. The stress and anxiety had been too much for him to handle. Nightmares resulted. Strange things happened to the house and the family within it.

  Now the memory reassured rather than plagued him. Controlling PK meant more than controlling objects. If he could find a way to control people, escape would be all the easier.

  The first rule of resistance still held true. It was not his idea to be here, and he needed to show how volatile he could be. But a new element entered his mental equation: Dalton’s logic. If, after a little more resistance, Jaden played into Dalton’s soft side, he’d earn trust. He had already shown how much he wanted to trust Jaden earlier, allowing Jaden’s hands to be free. Even now, the way Dalton sat on this bed, keeping his distance and his hands to himself, it demonstrated something. Dalton held him in some kind of regard.

  The staff, they always had an eye and an ear on him, and they were not allowed to hurt him. Jaden was a treasure here, much more than a lab rat. Dalton put a lot of effort into acquiring and keeping him.

  “So you’re saying,” Jaden started, planning his words, “that if I learn it, and I do as you say, one day you’ll let me go?” Of course it wasn’t true. Dalton would never release him. No one gave away their treasure. But he had to ask. The false contract was imperative.

  Dalton sighed, and looked at his folded hands. “I cannot make that promise, but I can try to make it happen. If you behave and do as your told, there is a chance I can get you out of here.”

  And there it was. Get you out of here. That isn’t what Jaden asked. He wanted out. Dalton was a smart man. Sometimes foolish and always arrogant, he was crafty nevertheless. Maybe he would keep his promise and take Jaden out of this facility and put him in another. The lie served Jaden’s immediate need. Though false, Jaden could pretend Dalton’s oath was true, and thereby learn how to wield psychokinesis for his own benefit. PK saved his life once, one day it would allow him escape.

  “Okay,” Jaden said. “You’ll do your best to get me out of here, if I learn how to control it. You swear to me?”

  The strange look came back and remained. It was awe. “Yes, I swear it,” Dalton said.

  “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  Back in the test room, Jaden sat at the table and allowed William to attach the sensors to his brain. Even if they did know how his PK worked, they’d never be able to have it themselves. It wasn’t his first choice, none of this was. He had to exercise patience or he would be here forever. The quicker he learned PK, the faster he would be free.

  Keeping his promise and gaining Dalton’s trust was a good idea. He was going for long term satisfaction, simply playing a part, and getting better every minute.

  He stared at the ball. Memorized it. It was soft, light, and therefore harder to control. How he knew that, he couldn’t say. What was his experience with light objects? It was easier to throw a baseball than a paper airplane. Would mental power be the same, he wondered. He shut his eyes and imagined the ball in his mind, feeling its softness and lightness. Goosebumps spread over his skin and the air cooled. It was working.

  He screwed his eyes shut, yet saw the ball from every angle: above, behind, from below as if he laid on the floor, staring up at it through a glass table. Up close the ball had texture, like an orange rind. He wasn’t sure how he knew this ball would take little effort, like the paper airplane. If he hit too hard, it would fly easily yet erratically.

  The key was flicked, the task elementary. This had to be rolled with control and required focus. He examined the ball again, thinking hard. How was he going to roll it?

  “Is there something wrong?” Dalton asked.

  Jaden considered telling him his dilemma, weighing the benefits and drawbacks of revealing his problem. If he conferred, he would let Dalton in on a secret. An exclusive tip. Dalton would feel special, privileged, if allowed to help. He decided to convey the problem.

  “Yesterday it was just a flick. I didn’t control it, I just flicked it. I don’t know how to move it across a table.”

  “All right,” Dalton said. “If you were to do it with your hand, you would keep your hand on it and roll it? Keep that in mind. Use your hand to guide you.”

  That made a strange amount of sense, especially since he did something similar the day before. This situation was no different, it was only different in his head. So Jaden reached his left hand over the ball, like a hovering guide.

  He squint his left eye and moved his hand steadily across the table. The ball inched along, starting and stopping jerkily. Jaden realized he held his breath. He breathed regularly, which did the trick. The ball followed his hand to the end of the table and did not, surprisingly, fall off the edge. He’d watched it the entire way, never glancing at Dalton.

  Dalton grinned with such pride and pleasure it bordered recklessness. He didn’t try hiding his delight or feigning indifference. From his cheery eyes to his impish laugh, it was obvious Dalton had probably never been happier. When he looked at Jaden his grin broadened.

  “That was amazing,” he said. Dalton sat on the table’s edge and clapped his hand on Jaden’s shoulder, gently nudging it. “That was incredible.”

  In the midst of Dalton’s bliss, in what he clearly thought was an accomplishment that equaled walking through space, Jaden felt a terrible and lonely grief. His eyes found the paradoxical scene in the reflection of the observation mirror. There stood Dalton, a fatherly pride splashed over his perfectly tanned face and sun-flecked hair, with his hand on the short, skinny, bald little boy, with wide gray eyes and an electric collar around his neck.

  eight

  Jaden became increasingly frustrated with the absence of time. Without it he could not know how many days it took to master Dalton’s elementary task of ball-rolling. He was surprised by how challenging the exercise became. At first it had been quite simple, then Dalton added variations which shook Jaden’s confidence. Once he got the hang of it, Jaden was assigned newer and more challenging tasks.

  At the start of every supposed day, a member of the staff led Jaden into a test room. Dalton typically sat at the table or stood alone, ready to dole out orders.

  Happily, as each new exercise was given to him, Jaden adapted. He still followed his rules by pretending he was having difficulty with his new assignments, but soon it would be foolish to continue the ruse.

  Now he knew why everything was bolted to the floor, and why the only objects he tested with were soft and light. One day Jaden would be strong enough to lift and hurl objects. One day everything would be a potential weapon.

  After straight lines, Dalton had him trace patterns on the table using the ball. Circles and squares, triangles and stars: the movements became more complex as time passed. His accomplishments would have been cause for celebration if he was anywhere but here. Dalton had been right: PK was a tremendous thi
ng. Rather than rejoicing, Jaden felt as though the more he performed, and the better he became, the more power he surrendered. Jaden reminded himself daily that his obedience was an act, a simple means to an end. His cooperation was a role to play till he was ready to break free. An end was in sight. He told himself to persevere and remember what he was doing. There was an end. There had to be.

  He missed the outside. It was cold and gray here, the light glowed with artificial life and a depressing monotony. The only sounds were the clanking of the thick doors, the buzzing of the florescent tubes, and soft squishing of his feet on the padded floor. The staff all wore uniforms of white. The walls were gray, the floor was gray; in fact the only color in the entire facility came around Dalton’s neck in the form of pinstriped ties, sometimes checkered, otherwise solid. Pale greens, soft blues, deep reds. Jaden found himself fascinated by them, mesmerized by their unapologetic display of color.

  Before he fell into unsettling sleep each night, Jaden tried envisioning places he’d seen in his short life. He yearned to remember how trees moved in the wind, their smell. He thought of storm clouds and the exciting sound of thunder as it boomed through the sky; the way lightening flashed and made night day; how billions of stars speckled the night; and city lights inked the dark sky orange.

  What he missed most was the sun: walking outside and being hit in the face with it, like a hot brick; its unrelenting brightness and comforting heat. As he lay in bed, his eyes shut so tight they hurt, Jaden tried remembering the feeling of the sun, how it crept over the windowsill and crawled across his body as the day progressed.

  Jaden always ate alone. Alan or Casey, sometimes Douglas, who’s only facial expression was a frown, brought his food and set it across the room, making Jaden wait until they left before he could retrieve it. He dined on the floor. Sometimes after practicing all day, Jaden was left in his cell without food for hours. Then he paced relentlessly, his stomach growling and churning. He resented how it made him feel. Like a lion pacing its cage.