War Kids: Books 1 - 3 ( Young Adult Thriller Series

by HJ Lawson

  “Thanks,” I say. I hadn't realized how hungry I was, but I want to chew it and savor the taste at the same time.

  “Albert, is there a pay phone in the town?” Gérard asks.

  “Yeah, across the street at the old barber’s.” Albert points across the road, which was clearly the main street at one time, but no cars are driving through it now… it’s like a ghost town.

  Gérard grabs a chocolate bar from beside him and begins to walk over to the barber’s. The shop looks as though it’s been around for centuries. Large, glass windows with the word ‘barber’ are painted across in old English style. The closer we get, I can see weathered paint chipping off from the frames.

  Gérard rummages through his pants pockets and pulls out a few quarters. “Anyone else got any money?” he asks. Ali and I shake our heads.

  “Here,” Albert says, as he pulls out his coins and dumps them into Gérard’s hand.

  “You guys wait in there. Best to stay out of sight,” Gérard says.

  Ali pushes down on the silver handle, but the door is locked.

  “Or you can go back to the woods—” Before Gérard can finish speaking, I pull my gun out and smash the glass. Then I slide my hand in and open it.

  “In here will be fine. We can check for any updates,” I announce as I walk in. I feel Gérard’s eyes burning into the back of my head. I look over my shoulder and see him smiling with pride.

  Gérard looks back to the old payphone and begins to add the coins.

  I sit by the window inside the store next to him, so I can hear what he is saying.

  “Ali, could you see if you can get the television working?” I ask. Albert walks in and props his gun by a chair, then slumps his body into one of the large, black barber chairs, wiggling around to get comfortable as if he’s getting ready for a nap.

  “Christian. I never thought I would be happy to hear your voice…”

  I breathe a sigh of relief; finally he’s gotten through to someone.

  The female television presenter’s voice screams out through the screen, as Ali quickly tries to turn the television down. “Sorry,” he mouths.

  Gérard raises his hand to his head. “Yeah... Captain Reef... she’s with me” he says. Gérard is silent as he listens.

  “Find everything out you can about him; follow the money trail–someone must be funding all this,” Gérard explains.

  My eyes are drawn to the television. There is a map of New York City, and then there is a circle. I bang on the window to Gérard.

  “The radiation.”

  Gérard just nods—it looks like Christian has already told him. The radiation on the map begins to grow and grow.

  “Well, it looks like we are screwed,” Albert says bluntly.

  “Ali, turn the volume up,” I say, but he’s one step ahead of me.

  “Within the next few hours the radiation is going to spread to Upstate New York. People are advised to stay in their homes and block out any air coming in,” the news reporter explains.

  The map disappears. “We have breaking news from the Vice President,” she says after a brief pause.

  “Our prayers are with the President and his family,” the Vice President begins, “and with the good people of America, who have died in today’s terrorist attacks. Now I ask you fellow countrymen to stand up and fight! Terrorists have been hiding in our country!” He punches down on the wooden pew.

  “We can weep for our losses tomorrow; today we must fight to survive another day. We are asking all those not affected by today’s nuclear attack to go to your local police station or army base—unite with us against them. Don’t believe the report from Captain Reef today… our allies don’t stand with them. They stand with us. Stay vigilant.”

  With that, the Vice President is gone. Ali turns off the television. Like me, he doesn’t want to hear anymore.

  “Quick. Get down!” Gérard yells, as he runs into the barber’s.

  We all duck to the ground, and I throw my hands over my head. I can see headlights beaming up the road; the sound of an engine roars through the silence of the evening.

  “They are here.”

  Chapter 22

  Finally We Meet.

  ETHAN

  The games are over. No planning for this Uncle Sam.

  Knock… Knock… “I have a parcel that needs to be signed for.” Time to sign your life away.

  No response. Impatiently I knock again, louder this time.

  The room is filled with the sound of boots stomping across the wooden floor. I quickly step to the side in case he looks through the spy hole.

  The footsteps stop. There is no one else around us; his house is deep in the woods. Hidden away from the world.

  My eyes dart through the trees. There… I spot the tiny red light flickering as the leaves move in the late summer breeze. He has cameras rigged in the branches.

  He is watching me.

  Not for long…

  BANG! The camera plummets to the ground in one shot, landing on a pile of crunchy leaves. I hear the sounds of thumping as he runs through the house. I move past the side window and look back into the woods. Where are you?

  Peering through the gap under the window blind, I can see the skinny coward darting around his home.

  Go run, Uncle Sam. Time to go hunting…

  “Come out! Come out, you little chicken!” I yell.

  He runs around even more, already in a panic, and I’ve not even gotten inside. Such a shame the radiation is on its way. I could’ve had fun with this Uncle Sam.

  Bang… bang... Web-like cracks grow across the glass window as it shatters. I kick my boot through it and storm into Uncle Sam’s home, crunching the ground as I land.

  I have my gun at the ready, but with no one to shoot at. I move my foot around on the glass beneath my boot, as I think of his punishment for making me hunt him down.

  Ahh, that’s it… perfect!

  “Come on, Christian, I just want to talk to you. Do you not remember me?”

  I freeze, waiting for a sound, but all I can hear is the humming from the worn-out fridge, and his computers. His computers take most of the space in his small living room. Sad little man.

  Creak…

  There it is, his own home surrendering him to me. He really should’ve taken better care of it.

  Lightly I walk over to the sound of the floorboard—into his formal dining area, I guess. Tables and chairs are laid out, as new as the day he bought them.

  Another floorboard creaks. Stupid Uncle Sam cannot even stay hidden in his own home. No wonder he wasn’t a field agent.

  I take off running toward the sound.

  Bang… Bang sounds out as I fire my gun, blasting everything in sight.

  Where is he?

  From the corner of my eye, I can see a kitchen cupboard closing.

  You have got to be kidding me! These Americans are really dumb… so dumb I want to laugh.

  “Christian, come out of the cupboard,” I order.

  I can hear his heavy breathing. He really is starting to annoy me.

  “Get out!” I grit my teeth as I yell.

  Bang… bang…

  “Ahh!” The wooden door next to him flies off its hinges, revealing his legs all squashed up. His door creaks open, and I can clearly see the pain on his face as he grabs hold of his leg.

  “I don’t want to kill you.” Yet. “Please come out.”

  He looks up at me with his glasses titled to one side. His head is glowing red as he is cutting off his circulation with his whole body squeezed up in the cupboard.

  He knows there is nothing he can do.

  His head leans sideways, opening the cupboard door, and his body slumps onto the cold kitchen floor.

  Chapter 23

  Father’s Training.

  JADA

  “What can you see?” I ask Gérard, as he peeks his head around the store door.

  “There is a military truck. It looks like one of ours, but I’m not
sure. Oh damn! They are not our soldiers.”

  “How do you know?” Ali asks.

  “They have black scarves over their faces, and gas masks. Grow some bloody balls and show us your faces!” Gérard shouts.

  There are soldiers jumping out of the back. Great, another truck just pulled up. Now there are more of them, all with guns in their hands.

  “Glad we’re not in the store anymore,” Ali adds.

  “They are heading over there now.” I move closer toward Gérard.

  Bang… Bang… The sound rattles through my bones… they have fired their guns. Gérard quickly ducks back into the store as the sound ripples through the town, followed by an eerie silence. No cries of pain or for help. They are either dead, or this was a warning shot.

  Gérard looks around. “Soldiers are coming out… the looters are following them.”

  It was just a warning shot.

  “No… no!” Gérard shakes with barely-restrained anger.

  “What?” I question.

  “People are making a run for it. They are going to the woods. Some of the soldiers are following them,” Gérard shouts.

  “What!?” Ali snaps, too loudly. He quickly places his hand over his mouth. But it's too late.

  “Over there!” I hear one of the soldiers yell.

  “Can you fire that thing?” Gérard asks Albert, as he looks at his gun.

  “Sure,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, as if Gérard was asking a stupid question.

  “We stand a better chance if we hold our ground. We can pick them off from here. Wait for my command.” Adrenaline runs through my veins one again, as I pull my gun out.

  “Hey… I haven’t got one.” Ali waves his hands in disappointment.

  “Check in the back; they may have a kitchen with knives,” I whisper.

  “You are like your mother, always thinking.” Gérard smiles fondly. This father-daughter relationship is very weird.

  Albert kneels next to me, and his bones let out a weird creak as he does. It's so loud that Gérard turns and looks toward him.

  “You okay?” Gérard asks.

  “Yeah. Most fun I’ve had in years.” Albert’s face wrinkles up as he smiles.

  Before Gérard can say it, I know they are here.

  “Now!” Gérard yells out.

  I spring my head up and quickly check to see where they are.

  One deep breath in. Bang… bang. My gun goes off first, and a soldier falls backwards to the ground. I took him out with one shot.

  I can hear Gérard’s gun going off, and Albert mumbling something. I just focus on my next target.

  Him. Before his fat hands can get to his gun, I shoot him in the kneecap. His obese body buckles under the pain and his weight, and he lands on the ground.

  Another one falls. Gérard must have taken him down, because I haven’t heard a shot come from Albert.

  The remaining soldiers run back into the store for cover, pushing the looters in as they go. One of the soldiers remains lying in the middle of the road, groaning in pain.

  I slump down the wall to catch my breath for a moment. “Nice shooting.” Gérard smiles.

  “Where did she learn that?” Albert asks, as he works on his gun.

  “My father’s taught me.”

  I smile as Gérard reaches past me and takes Albert’s gun from him. “Safety cap was on.”

  A few minutes pass as we silently sit waiting for the next battle. But they don’t come out.

  “Shall we go in there after them?” Ali asks impatiently.

  “If we go out there, they will shoot us,” Gérard states bluntly. It’s hard to believe that Zak and Ali are brothers sometimes.

  “Ali…” Kyra’s voice screams hysterically outside. Ali rushes toward the door, and Gérard quickly pushes him onto the floor. They’ve got them.

  “Ali!” Kyra’s heart-wrenching screams continue.

  “Gérard, they’ve got Faith and Kyra.” I break the news to Gérard, and he leaps up from on top of Ali.

  Chapter 24

  Spectator.

  ETHAN

  “Let me help you up…” I take Christian’s arm and lift him from the ground. It's clear by the growing crimson mark on his blue jeans that I shot him in the thigh.

  He wobbles under my grip as he tries to balance on his one good leg. I direct him over to his swivel chair. He has wasted his life in this chair… now he will die in it. He slumps his body down.

  “What do you want from me? What have I done?” His voice quivers as he speaks.

  I stare at him as he adjusts his glasses and brushes back his greasy hair… he is my favorite Uncle Sam. The Uncle Sam that gives information or stands by watching something happening—then goes home at night thinking he’s done a great job… no blood on his hands. In fact, he is showering in their blood, bathing in the thought of being the powerful one without getting his hands dirty. At least with field agents, they know they are the poison of the earth.

  I smile at him. “I bet you have helped to murder hundreds of people. Can you even remember any of their names?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he quickly splutters.

  Ha… ha… I begin to laugh. He sounds so convincing, but he’s only lying to himself.

  “Do you want a bullet in the other knee?” I ask. His eyes widen in terror. “I thought not.”

  I glance past his pitiful face, and toward his computer monitors—three in total. All filled with different files. He is searching for someone, or something.

  “What were you looking for?” I ask, as I spin him around to face the screens.

  “Er… er, nothing,” he stutters. Why do they always lie?

  “It doesn’t look like nothing,” I say as I peer closer at the screen. Ahh, perfect. “Wait there,” I say to him, pointing my finger, as I imagine a teacher would. I was schooled at home because Kiana didn’t want me mixing with the garbage. And neither did I.

  These computer guys are always the same, with all these boxes of wires just lying about. As if one day he would run out of them.

  Christian doesn’t even move. Instead, I can feel him watching me, wanting to know what I’m going to do next. Even in the moments close to death, he is still a coward. The devil is going to have fun with him.

  Homes really are full of the most useful things, I think as I take out one of the computer wires and pull on it. Perfect. Nice and strong.

  I smile over at Christian as the color drains from his face.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I say as I walk toward him, pulling the cord with both hands. It really is strong; all the thin wires woven together to create one unbreakable piece. Just like our cause.

  Christian rests his head back on his fake leather chair. “What do you want to know?”

  That was easier than I thought it would be. “What is this all about?” I wave the hand with the cord toward the computer screen.

  “Hey, be careful. If you break them they will be of no use to you,” he says.

  “Ha… ha,” I laugh. He cares more about his computers than his life. Christian snaps me an evil look.

  “Sorry.” I raise my hands, trying to hold in my laughter. What a waste of a life. “What are you looking for?”

  “The paper trail,” Christian states.

  “Whose paper trail?”

  He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me.

  “Whose paper trail?” I yell. I don’t like having to repeat myself. Christian jumps in his seat… he should be scared!

  “Captain Reef’s.” His eyes dart side to side as he looks at me, like I’m some computer screen he’s trying to read. He knows I know that name.

  Glancing over, I see my father’s name, Abulafia, on the screen. Christian made the link between them. Maybe he’s not that stupid after all….

  I rub my face at the thought of them being together, laughing at me, as I do their work for them.

  How could you, Father?!

 
I whip the cord across Christian’s cheek. His head flies sideways, and he turns back to me revealing a bloody gash across it.

  I tie his wrists down to the chair arms with the cord. Then I push his chair toward the computers.

  “Tell me everything!”

  Chapter 25

  Disappearing Into the Night.

  JADA

  “Gérard, you cannot go out there. They will kill you,” I plead. I know he’s not that stupid, but I cannot take any chances.

  “Fucking hell!” Gérard snaps, as he walks away from the window we are all peering through. No one has come out of the store… it is clear they are planning their next steps.

  Gérard flings his arm across a shelf below the mirrors, sending everything flying across the room. “I never should have left her!” he shouts, as he paces back and forth in the barber’s store. He looks like a crazy animal, ready to hunt his kill.

  “Looks like we won’t have to wait much longer,” Albert says. Gérard rushes back to the window.

  Unfortunately, Albert is right.

  The convenience store door opens, and even with the dim light I can see it's Kyra. She is the first to step out… and there is a gun to her head.

  We stand here helpless as Faith comes out next, also with a gun to her head. They are using the girls as human armor. They know we will not risk shooting at them.

  “Help me!” yells the soldier I shot earlier. The others don’t even look in his direction. He takes off his gas mask and continues yelling for help. It’s as if he’s already dead to them.

  They march our friends over to the first of the trucks, and they climb into the front—Kyra is positioned next to the drivers. The looters are forced into the back of the truck, and the soldiers and hostages climb up and disappear.

  Varoom… Varoom screams out in the evening as they rev their engines.

  The soldiers are taking them.

  “Gérard, what are we going to do?” I ask.

  He raises his hands to his hair and tugs, frustrated. “We will have to follow them,” he says, letting out a deep sigh.