Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  He chose a new book and began reading, then checked the inside cover, just in case. There was no name written there, and he was a little dispirited. He read on anyway, thinking occasionally of the girl with the curly Y.

  To his surprise, Alan practiced boxing with Jaden while Dalton was away. He came into Jaden’s cell to bring dinner one night, and made the offer to practice. Not wanting to spoil his chances, Jaden agreed and didn’t ask any questions. Like everything else, Jaden would have to be patient. Alan would come around in time, he was already on his way. Jaden couldn’t afford to scare him off. Anyway, he was glad for a chance to get his blood moving and happily participated.

  Alan taught him the different punches he should practice, and Jaden was delighted to see Alan brought hand bags with him, so Jaden could jab, strike and kick at something other than the unrelenting wall. By the end of the hour session, Jaden was exhausted, bent over and breathing hard. Alan had made him walk the room doing a combination of kicks and punches.

  “It’s normal to be winded when you first start. You haven’t exercised properly in months,” Alan said, confirming Jaden’s time suspicion.

  Jaden didn’t react to Alan’s slip, hoping he would make more.

  “Does Dalton,” he breathed, “know you’re,” breathe “here” big breath, “doing this with me?”

  Alan’s eyes shifted around the room. “Not exactly.”

  Uh huh. Jaden wasn’t sure if he should milk this situation now, or hold off. If Alan did this without Dalton’s knowledge, what else would he do?

  “I just think you should get to work out a bit, you know? Get those endorphins going,” Alan said, looking uncomfortable.

  “What’re endorphins?” Jaden asked, steering the subject away from Dalton. Patience, patience, patience. He downed the glass of juice and went to refill it with water from his bathroom sink.

  “Brain chemicals. They make you happy,” Alan said. He smiled nervously.

  Jaden gulped water and leaned against the entryway of the bathroom, watching Alan, who was twitching and moving funny. It was going to take a lot more endorphins to make Jaden happy, but Alan had given a clue about himself, and probably regretted it.

  “Oh,” Jaden said, then kept quiet. He wanted Alan to return, so he didn’t press him for more information. Alan knew a lot about fighting, and Jaden suspected Alan was here because of it.

  “I should go now,” Alan said. “You have your dinner.”

  “Okay,” Jaden said, then picked up his plastic fork and started on his massive bowl of pasta. It was cold again, but he didn’t mind. Once Alan left, Jaden summoned a book to him, and, not wanting to get sauce on it, held it out in front of him, suspended in the air. PK had its benefits.

  After he was finished with dinner, and finished with the book (it was a short one) Jaden showered and readied himself for bed, knowing the lights would black out soon.

  Dalton was cheerful when he returned. Jaden guessed he’d only been gone a day or two, and wherever he’d been, whoever he’d seen, something good had happened. Jaden didn’t think good things for Dalton boded well for him. Naturally, Jaden was kept in the dark. Because no one informed Jaden what was happening, both in Dalton’s absences, and in more of a general sense, Jaden took a studious interest in the goings on of Dalton and the rest of the facility. Everything he learned was through direct observation, and he hoped the longer he was here (a draining thought) the more relaxed and routine the staff would become.

  Giddy about something, Dalton greeted Jaden like they were old friends, bounding into the cell like a father home from a long business trip.

  “How have you been? I’m told you practiced and read most of the books.”

  There were so many viciously sarcastic ways to respond, Jaden’s brain was temporarily paralyzed due to witty comeback overload. Jaden’s mouth opened and he made indistinguishable verbal grunt as a response. How have you been? By the time the quips had slowed so he could see them in his mind’s eye, there for the choosing, Dalton moved on.

  “I brought you some new books. Science and history. I know you like to read, so I thought I’d loan you some educational material.”

  And from behind his back he pulled a two large textbooks.

  “Well,” Jaden said, crossing his arms, “how very kind of you.”

  Dalton had missed the derision in Jaden’s tone. He opened one of the books and looked through it, amused with himself. Jaden watched him flip through pages, then snatched it from his hands without lifting a finger. The maneuver served two purposes: got him the book (win for him) demonstrated how he’d progressed in his work (win for Dalton). It was an American history book. Based on the vocabulary and writing style, this book was for fourth or fifth graders. He probably would have received this exact textbook had he been in school. The picture on the cover showed the Black Hills of South Dakota. They were jagged, yet barren, with a clear sky above. A reminder of the diverse world above him.

  Dalton’s expression was insufferable. His eyebrows were raised, and he rolled back onto his heels then up onto his toes. He expected thanks.

  A dilemma. To retort and spew verbal acid at Dalton would cost the books. Escaping this place, even if it was only imaginary, was the only thing keeping him sane. However, being expected to thank Dalton for giving him a book he would have had anyway, had Dalton not abducted him, was an idea so vile it made him sick.

  “Did you know the chameleon doesn’t change colors based on its environment?” Jaden asked, thumbing through pages. Many of them had drawings from colonial times. Old maps. Portraits of famous historical people. Slaves for sale. “It changes its colors based on its emotions, or temperature.”

  Dalton’s lips twitched but did not smile. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Most people don’t,” Jaden said, snatching the science book. He opened it. The book had been published by the same company as the history textbook. To Dalton, Jaden’s presence here meant he only missed education, not interaction with other people his age, playing outside in the rain, or going home in the afternoon for a snack and playing video games or watching television. No. The only thing Jaden missed by being here was an education, and Dalton thought he rectified that by supplying textbooks.

  “So what do you want with me today?” Jaden asked, dropping both books into the box by his bed. Dalton was a man who wanted acknowledgement, but Jaden could never thank him.

  The doctor stepped closer, frowning thoughtfully. “Smile for me.”

  “Huh?”

  Dalton demonstrated a smile, waving his hands around his face as he exposed all his teeth. “Smile. I want to see your teeth.”

  “They’re all there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Dalton persisted with his wide grin. He looked like an idiot.

  Jaden flashed a quick, fake smile then summoned another book and opened it. He would read Dalton’s new additions when alone.

  The view was enough for Dalton, who dropped the subject promptly and commanded Jaden to stand and follow him for another round of multiple levitation exercises. Mildly grateful for the dismal change of scenery, Jaden followed him for another mentally exhausting day.

  The reason for the teeth exposure was made clear days later. While Jaden was busy reading a book, and three tennis balls chased each other around the room, bouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, Dalton came and told him to accompany him out for something special.

  “I’m going outside?” Jaden asked, the balls dropping as he scrambled up. He couldn’t believe it. They were letting him out to see the sun!

  “Not exactly. There’s someone I want you to see.”

  Jaden assumed it was not a police officer, criminal attorney, or a Brother Grimm. Crestfallen but curious, Jaden trudged behind Dalton into test room two, which, rather than empty, had a complicated chair in the center of it: an aqua blue dentist chair, a lamp beside it.

  “Have a seat,” Dalton said, and Jaden hopped into the chair, crossing his arms. It w
as fine that Jaden wasn’t outside in the fresh air, soaking up whatever vitamins he could from the sun. Plaque on his teeth, that was a priority.

  “I suppose taking me to an actual dentist would raise a few questions,” Jaden muttered, picking at the disks on the collar around his neck.

  The door opened and in walked a tall, slender woman.

  Jaden sat up. He shook his head and actually rubbed his eyes. But they didn’t deceive. He saw her. Her. A woman.

  She had a heart-shaped face and softly curled brown hair, which bounced when she walked. Her nose was small, and when she came closer, Jaden noticed she had brown eyes. She wore black high heels that may have clopped on a regular floor, but squished on the padding. Her outfit was a business suit: a pale pink blouse under her blazer, and black slacks with gray pinstripes instead of a skirt.

  Dalton kissed her on the cheek, and she returned the gesture, keeping her eyes on Jaden.

  “This is Jaden,” Dalton said, audible pride in his voice. “Jaden, this is Dr. Claire. She’s an orthodontist.”

  They wanted to make his teeth straighter? He couldn’t go outside, but he needed perfect teeth? But a woman was here, perhaps someone with maternal instincts who would sympathize with his situation and possibly help him. Crooked teeth might buy his freedom.

  “Hello, Jaden,” she said formally. She sat on a folding chair, as a rolling chair wouldn’t help on this floor, and snapped on latex gloves. She didn’t ask how he was doing, she immediately got to work. “Open your mouth, please.”

  Dalton stood to the side, his hands folded in front of him, watching the process. At first Jaden kept his mouth closed, then thought of the books. To demonstrate how frustrating this was to him, and to feed the illusion that Dalton had control, Jaden furrowed his brow, rolled his eyes, and threw his head back onto the chair and opened his mouth as he crossed his arms.

  Dr. Claire (he assumed Claire was her first name) felt around Jaden’s teeth and gums. He found her eyes; she examined his teeth and did not make eye contact. Her skin was smooth, pale, and in a different circumstance, he might have found her pretty. She smelled good, like lavender, and as she bent over him, feeling inside his mouth, a few locks of her curled hair brushed against his face. It felt nice.

  “He has an under bite,” Dr. Claire said to Dalton, acting as though Jaden wasn’t there. “That’s correctable. I’d like to see some recent X-rays, and I need to take some photos so we can mark his progress.”

  “That can be done,” Dalton said.

  Would they have to move him into an office, a real office on the surface? His pulse quickened at the thought of being moved anywhere, giving him an opportunity to escape. He kept his face blank, so as not to reveal his thoughts.

  “You’re going to put braces on me?” Jaden asked, now Dr. Claire had her hands out of his mouth.

  She regarded him a moment, looked him up and down and sniffed. “That’s right,” she said coolly, then pushed away from her chair and beckoned Dalton to her. As they spoke in low whispers, Jaden studied their body language. Dr. Claire stood close to Dalton, inclining her head toward him. She lightly touched his shoulder, and as she prepared to leave, squeezed his hand.

  Dr. Claire. A first name. Was this the missus?

  Jaden wouldn’t ask. He knew Dalton was married, as he wore a ring, but he couldn’t see one on Dr. Claire’s hand. Or maybe she didn’t wear them while probing someone’s mouth. It was a mystery, one he’d keep private. His thoughts were his own, he would never voice them aloud to anyone here.

  Much to his disappointment, Jaden was not moved to the surface for X-rays or photos. A machine was brought down, and Jaden sadly stood as it rotated around his face, taking X-rays of his teeth. Then Dr. Claire, who today wore another pantsuit, this time brown, made him pull his cheeks apart with some weird paddles, so she could take photographs.

  She was never left alone with him, so he never had the chance to plead his case. The more time he spent in her company, the more he understood that Dr. Claire took no issue to his captivity. And if she did, she did a marvelous job concealing it. She rarely looked him in the eye, and on the occasion contact was made, she stared through him, not at him. When she did speak, she acted as though Jaden was invisible.

  Later, in his cell, as he tried ignoring the pain in his mouth (for Dr. Claire had wedged “spacers” between his teeth, pushing them apart), he thought about her and Dalton, and wondered how many people knew he was here. So few people took pity on him, it made him anxious. They didn’t care, not even a woman. In fact, she seemed less interested in his plight than anyone.

  It came down to him. He couldn’t rely on anyone for help, it was all Jaden. Fine. Not ideal, but fine. He was used to operating alone and taking care of himself. It was something he was good at, having had years of practice.

  He lay in bed, staring at the light, and thought he would start another book. He put his hand over the box and a book he’d not read yet jumped into his hand. It was the opposite of new: heavily worn and tattered, the pages frayed and brown on the edges from too much finger oil. The back cover was wrinkled, as if water had spilled on it. Jaden opened it, and sat up, astonished.

  This book belongs to Molly Dalton. If you find it GIVE IT BACK!!!

  Jaden’s eyes popped. Molly Dalton? There was a daughter. A little nuclear family. Father, mother, daughter. Maybe a pet dog, Spot.

  Jaden traced over her name with his finger again, and smiled. Under the GIVE IT BACK warning, she’d written in cursive: please.

  Dalton had a daughter, a girl named Molly. These books had not been pulled at random, he’d given Jaden his little girl’s books to borrow. She’d want this one back. He wondered what the book was about, but found himself unable to start it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her looping, curly name and wondered, again, what she was like.

  Jaden was about to rummage through the rest of the books to find her name again, when the light switched off, plunging him in silent darkness. For the first time since arriving, Jaden didn’t feel the weight of overwhelming loneliness and sorrow. He was almost cheerful, like he wasn’t by himself anymore. There was someone else out there who knew what Dalton was like. Molly was nothing like Dalton; he knew it. She was special.

  He imagined she was smart and funny, considering her message to whoever had stolen her precious book. It was her favorite, and he wondered if she tore her room apart looking for it right now. Jaden held it close to his chest, smelling the musty pages. This was a treasure to her, and he held it in his arms.

  He sighed and smiled, pulling the book closer.

  Molly.

  part two

  nine

  Someone watched from behind the mirror; he felt their presence. Someone was always there. He knew when they watched him, when they slept on duty, when they filled the crossword or picked food from their teeth. Jaden had never been in that room, but he knew it contained a television, four computers, several switches and buttons, and one swivel chair.

  A man sat in the swivel chair, feet on the desk, hands behind his head, relaxing. He watched Jaden, and though he couldn’t see him, Jaden watched back.

  The mirror frosted as Jaden got closer. The moisture evaporated then reappeared.

  No one gave him a watch, but his changed reflection was as reliable as the ticking hands of a clock. His once shiny black hair was dull, barely reflecting light. He hadn’t seen the sun since waking in this room. No sun, moon, wind, rain, or dry heat. No weather at all. The lack of light gave his skin a vampiric complexion. High cheekbones seemed to poke out of his pale skin, and his cheeks hollowed in a way only age could explain.

  Though he ate frequently and in great amounts, he was thin. His jaw bone was so square it appeared sharp. Thanks to his sporadic training sessions with Alan, at least his muscles were defined.

  Smiling was a thing of the past, laughing out of the question. Even if something was funny, and Jaden couldn’t imagine what would be, laughing was too loud and sneaky. Th
e corners of his mouth were drawn down and his lips long. Brushing his teeth was the only time his cheeks were allowed exercise. Courtesy of Dr. Claire, his teeth, at least, were perfect. Straight, white, glowing.

  And his eyes. His once bright, warm gray eyes now shone with anguished luminescence. Together with his dark hair and ashen skin, they were inhuman. It’s said the eyes are windows to the soul. But in this house, the lights were out and ghosts haunted.

  Though the years had hardened his spirit and appearance, they had also sharpened his skills. Hyperawareness came to him the first time he’d done anything worthy of praise. It had lasted only a second. After years of practice and experience, that sensation was with him always. He was tuned in to everything and everyone in his vicinity: aware of a person’s location, the rhythm of his breathing, the rate of his heart.

  Jaden fogged the mirror with his breath. He traced with his finger two dots for eyes, a downward curve for a frown, and two straight, angled slashes above the eyes for angry brows. As the fog from his breath evaporated, Jaden glared into the mirror where he knew the observer’s eyes were locked. Jaden pointed at him, then turned away and walked to his bed.

  The door clanked opened and Martin walked in. Jaden didn’t need to face him to know who it was. Martin always paused before entering. Before he made another step, the tray of food was lifted from his hands and floated away from him, landing with precision control on the edge of Jaden’s bed.

  They’d prepared him fried eggs, hash browns, fruit, and a stack of toast. Jaden started on the toast and was irritated Martin remained. Jaden scowled at him over his shoulder. “Is there anything else?” he asked in a deep, calm voice.

  Martin took a small step back and shook his head. He backed out, the door clanked shut.

  Jaden proceeded with breakfast, eating as he read a book. Dalton kept his word just as Jaden had. He provided Jaden with new books as soon as he’d read all he had. A new box was brought almost weekly. Most were boring. Dalton had taken an interest in Jaden’s reading material, trading fantasy and science fiction for tamer, mediocre stories that left nothing to be inspired. Or ideas to be had. Occasionally a worthy read would escape Dalton’s purge.