Stolen

by Cheree Alsop

  At the mention of Marek’s name, Flint’s eyes grew wider. He jumped up, ran to the charts and maps on one of the tables, and began to ruffle through them.

  “These are the Lost?” Dad asked quietly from behind me.

  “Some of them,” I replied. I knelt to look under the computer table. Whisper was there, curled up asleep on a blanket.

  Dad seemed as relieved as I felt upon seeing her. “They’re safe here,” I reassured him. “The Falconans haven’t been able to find this place.” While I helped Flint look, Dad walked quietly around the Den. He had just disappeared down the hall between the bedrooms when he returned walking quickly backwards, his hands raised. Phoenix appeared with a gun drawn.

  “No, Phoenix!” I said, running to stop him.

  Phoenix lowered his gun slightly. “Is this a friend of yours?” he questioned.

  I nodded. “Phoenix, Dad, Dad, Phoenix,” I introduced hurriedly. “Marek’s in trouble and Raven’s been shot,” I continued. At Phoenix’s shocked look, I rushed on. “We were ambushed on the road. May was killed and Raven was shot in the arm. He’ll be okay, but Marek left. I’m worried they have him.”

  I could see the change the news about May had on the tough Shifter. He fell into a chair next to Flint, his gun forgotten in his lap. “What do we do?” he asked quietly.

  Flint looked up, too, his eyes intent. “We save Marek,” I replied without hesitation. “Just like he’s done for each of us.”

  Flint glanced down, grabbed the corner of a protruding, blue-lined map, then waved it with a flourish. Closer surveillance proved it to be not a map, but a blueprint. “The blueprint of the labs?” I asked. Flint nodded.

  “Good,” Phoenix said. “Let’s go.

  Chapter 34- Marek

  I came to slowly. My head pounded and my mouth was dry. A smell touched my nose, one that drew all my senses together with a stab of fear. The labs. I was back. The realization came with a flood of memories. Kyla. Raven. May. Grief hit harder than the dawning pain that rolled in nauseating waves from my shoulder and thigh. Little May. I had killed her. Ras.

  My eyes flew opened, filling with tears. Ras, Shane, had killed May. I curled into a fetal position, my hands holding my head heedless of the unstaunched flow of blood from the bullet wounds. How could I have failed so miserably? How could this be the end? Did it really happen? It was too terrible, too horrifying. Maybe, just maybe. I shuddered. No, it had happened. I could still feel her in my arms, could see the teddy bear tucked under her arm, the note in its ribbon.

  Fury, pain, and despair hit so strong that I rose, clenched my damaged hands around the bars of the cage in which I was imprisoned, and cried out wordlessly in a mixture of a howl and a wail of defeat. The sound echoed around the walls of the empty, white-walled laboratory. I let my hands drop, exhausted. I had expelled more energy that I could spare with the flow of blood leaving my body, but I no longer cared.

  I slid so that my back was resting against the side bars of the cage. I avoided looking at my wounds. I couldn’t change my situation, and so, wolf-like, I accepted it for what it was. I had failed those I loved most in the world, had seen a Lost child die in the arms of my best friend, and had brought danger to the family of the girl I loved.

  That realization surprised me.

  Deep down, I knew how much I cared about Kyla, even if we had only known each other for a few short weeks. There was something about her that was different, something that drew me in and bade me to trust her. I shook my head, then grabbed it in my hands to staunch the rolls of nausea the action caused. At least I wouldn’t bring her more pain, I thought, my teeth clenched. I knew she and the others would find a way to get the rest of the Lost home.

  They would take care of the little ones, of Whisper. I felt a sharp stab of guilt, as if I betrayed the little Shifter by giving up. She was like my sister, like the brother I had failed. Was I going to fail her, too?

  I doubled over, clutching my throbbing shoulder. My hands came away slick with dark red blood. I stared at them for a minute, clenched my fist, and stared at the fine white scar along the back. I was in a cage, a wild animal shut away from the world. The sterile scent of the room forced its way through the pain. Something was strange about it.

  I let my thoughts wander dazedly. Suddenly, I jerked my head up despite a fresh roll of nausea. I studied the room I had lived in for six years, most of it spent in this very cage. Something was indeed wrong. Not only was there no one in the room, there was no one in the building that I could smell. From the staleness of the air, it had been over a week since anyone had worked here.

  This was it, then. I had been left to die. A wave of bitterness left a foul taste in my mouth. My shoulder and thigh began to throb, pulsing blood out with each heartbeat. I allowed myself to slide down onto my back, my blood pooling around me. The pain intensified.

  I shut my eyes against the glare of the flickering neon lights above me, then opened them again. Something was on top of the cage. Reaching up with my right hand, I worked the object between the bars. I settled back against the side, fighting a drowsiness that felt deeper than normal exhaustion. The object was a tape recorder with an unlabeled tape inside. I pushed the play button, my finger staining it red. A pit formed in my stomach at the sound of Galbran’s voice.

  “Marek, my boy, where do I begin?” the voice said in a tone that was at the same time chiding and astonished, as though Galbran had been shaking his head in amazement. “You have turned out to be my greatest failure.”

  I gave a small smile. At least I did something right.

  “By now, you know that Ras is your brother. You could have given up your search years ago if only you’d trusted that I knew what was best for both of you.

  “I know that you went back to your parents after you escaped, and I knew what would happen. You’ve got to think these things through, Marek. No one is going to let a wild beast into their home. Why? Because no beast is trustworthy.

  “You may ask, then, why I created you the way you are, and Ras and the Falconans. It’s because of that same fact. Something that can’t be trusted will always be considered a threat. What better way is there to keep a country in check than to ‘protect’ it with something that threatens not only its enemies, but its inhabitants?”

  A deep chill filled my bones and a shudder ran through my body. I slid back down so that I rested on my back and sat the tape recorder on my chest. I closed my eyes, taking in Galbran’s hateful voice.

  “And you could have led all of this, Marek. I raised you as my own son. I cared about you, taught you how to fight, how to defend yourself. But you wanted only freedom, a true wolf in a cage. The problem is, when you left, you realized you no longer had a place in your human family. You didn’t have a pack to run to.”

  Galbran’s voice dropped. “The ironic thing about all of this is that you aren’t even Marek.” My heart slowed. “No one can survive the DNA mutation required for what we do. The human and wolf parts that make you up died. You are neither one, nor the other. I wasn’t surprised when you called yourself Marek, when you remembered your family, your brother, but I should have told you that those memories weren’t even yours. You used to tell me the dreams you had about running through a forest. Well, that wolf is dead, too. You are nothing, no one.”

  My breath came in short, controlled bursts. I held the tape recorder in my right hand so tightly against my chest that my knuckles ached.

  “And now you shall die as the wolf did, alone, unloved, and unmourned.”

  The tape continued to run, but it was the end of the recording. I stared at the neon lights that shone through the bars of my cage, willing myself to believe Galbran’s words, to give up, to let my soul escape my worthless body. If I had a soul, I reminded myself; a single tear traced its way down my cheek.

  Did it matter? I was nothing, no one, not even the rightful bearer of the name I knew myself by. It was just a name.

  But something inside of me refused to give
up. This wasn’t how I was supposed to die. I refused to lie down quietly and will my lungs to stop taking in air. I saw myself talking to Kyla and heard my own words. “No matter what happens to us, we choose how we want to feel because of it. That is what makes us who we are. They can do anything to us, but as long as we keep what’s in here safe, and as long as we stay true to our own selves, we have power over everything, the world, even.”

  “The power to change the world?” Kyla had sounded a bit skeptical, but I could tell she was trying to understand.

  “If we choose to believe it.”

  Filled with anger and frustration, I hit the ground with my clenched fist, then stifled a cry as pain tore through my shoulder. I chose to live. I would defy Galbran with my life. I rose to my knees, my body growing numb. I punched the door of the cage again and again, then kicked it, ignoring the pain in my lacerated bare feet. The door didn’t budge, as it hadn’t when I was young and full of determination to save everyone, to find my brother. I couldn’t hope for someone to carelessly miss-check the lock on my cage again.

  I was breathing hard when I collapsed on the floor of my cage, my heart pounding the life blood from my body.

  Chapter 35- Kyla

  I ran through the empty building, my sneakers slapping the cold floor. Dad and Phoenix followed behind, double-checking the rooms I had glanced in. “Marek!” I yelled. But the only answer was the echo of my voice along the long, dark hall.

  I squinted. Was that a light at the end of the hallway? The slight beam from the bottom of a door could have been a trick of my eyes, but I held onto the hope. I ran past the unchecked rooms, my heart pounding. He had to be there, he just had to. I wouldn’t allow myself to question whether he was still alive.

  I burst into the room, my eyes watering in the sudden light. It was a laboratory room like the others, full of empty cages, microscopes, computers, and, “Marek!”

  I crossed the room and dropped to my knees in front of the cage. “Oh, Marek. I thought I’d never find you! We’ve gone through most of the building.” I talked quickly, forcing myself to keep fumbling with the lock and not check if he was listening, if he could even hear me. My only direct stare had found him lying still at the bottom of the cage covered in his own blood. He hadn’t opened his eyes when I said his name.

  “We’ll get you out of here, Marek. We’ll take you home. Dad’ll take care of you, like he did Raven. He’s so good at what he does.” The lock blurred behind my tears. My fingers slipped.

  “Kyla, stand back,” Dad said softly. His hands were gentle but firm on my shoulders. I rose, shaking, and he put his arms around me to hold me up.

  Phoenix brought the butt of his gun down on the lock three times, then four, five. It didn’t budge. He stepped to the side of the cage and aimed. The gunshot made me jump, my nerves frazzled by the day’s events.

  Marek stirred, a groan forcing its way through his clenched jaw. Phoenix dropped to his knees. “Come on, buddy,” he said. He lifted Marek out of the pool of blood as easily as if the wolf Shifter weighed less than Whisper.

  I followed Phoenix in a daze. Dad held me up with an arm around my shoulders. Marek’s hand hung down and blood dripped a trail from the wound in his shoulder. He turned his head, his eyes half closed. “You came for me,” he whispered.

  My heart leaped at the sound of his voice.

  Phoenix nodded. From my side-view, I could see the glisten of tears on the muscular cougar Shifter’s cheeks. “We’re a pack,” he said quietly. “We stick together.” The smallest of smiles appeared on Marek’s lips, then he withdrew back into himself and his eyes closed.

  “Dad?” I asked fearfully.

  Dad nodded. “I know. We’ve got to get him to the clinic. I can’t do anything for him until we get there.” He hurried forward to open a door for Phoenix, then led the way to the car.

  I followed along behind, more afraid than I had ever been before. Bullets whizzing past me hadn’t scared me like this. I knew Marek was dying. He couldn’t die.

  “Can you climb in on the other side and support his head?” Phoenix asked me gently.

  With Dad’s help, Phoenix lowered Marek onto the back seat of the Falconan’s black car. I ran to the other side and helped them ease him into a lying position across the seats. Phoenix tore off his shirt and Dad packed it against Marek’s bleeding wounds.

  Phoenix hurried to the front passenger seat and Dad gunned the engine. We raced down the empty road, our headlights cutting through the night.

  I didn’t dare do more than smooth the hair back from Marek’s closed eyes. With his head on my lap, I could see the horrible condition he was in. The gash on his forehead had created a sticky mat of dried blood down the side of his face. His clothes, taken from my closet only hours before, were almost black with blood and debris. The cloth Dad had put on the bullet wounds was already thick with dark red blood. Marek moaned quietly with each breath.

  “Talk to him, Kyla,” Dad urged, watching me from the rearview mirror. “He needs to know he’s safe.”

  I had heard him say the same thing about the half-wild, abandoned dogs people found and brought to the clinic. They feared another beating and expected through experience that each touch meant new pain. I spoke quietly in the soft cadence I used to soothe them. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

  He turned his head slightly toward the sound of my voice. I ran a hand through his hair, hoping to cool his fevered forehead. ‘Marek, you’ve got to make it. You can’t let go now,’ I thought with each touch, willing him to feel my strength, my love.

  We pulled up to the clinic. Dad ran inside to turn on the lights and prepare a table, then he returned to help Phoenix carry the Shifter. I followed them, but Dad shook his head when I tried to enter the small operating room. “Not this time, baby,” he said gently. “Phoenix will help me. You need to go lay down before you fall over.” He gave me a small, tight smile. “I’ve got enough to worry about without you having a major catastrophe, too.”

  I let the door swing shut. I had attended my fair share of surgeries at the clinic. The fact that Dad wouldn’t let me inside attested to how serious Marek’s injuries were. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to go in there anyway, to hold Marek’s hand, to make sure he knew I was there; but deep down, I knew Dad was right, I couldn’t handle seeing him go through that after everything else that had happened. Dad would see to it that his wounds were tended as much as they could be; then it was up to Marek.

  I went out to let the night air dry my face. The car doors were still open. I moved to close them when I saw a small tape recorder where Marek had been lying on the seat. It was covered in blood and had stopped at the end of the tape. I looked down at the soaked seat fabric, then at the tape recorder. I hesitated, then picked it up and pushed the rewind button.

  By the end of the short recording, I felt like throwing the tape into the street and running it over with the car. It made me madder than I had ever felt before to think of Marek in that cage, bleeding to death, listening about how his whole life had been a sham. A cry sounded from the clinic loud enough to silence the crickets that had filled the night air with their songs.

  I rose from where I leaned on the hood of the car. Another shout of pain shattered the night, followed by a plea. I couldn’t make out the words, but could see Marek in my mind’s eye begging them to leave in the bullets, to stop the pain. I hoped he didn’t ask them to let him die.

  Another yell sounded, but it was quieter this time. I strained my ears, but only silence followed. I realized I was clutching the tape recorder so hard my fingers hurt. I slid it into the pocket of my sweatshirt, hating its small, cold weight. I looked up at what I could see of the stars. ‘If anyone can hear me,’ I begged in my own plea, ‘Please let him live.’

  Chapter 36- Marek

  Pain invaded every dream until reality and sleep became one endlessly red glowing blur. Mom swept the hair from my forehead with her gentle fingers, her smile kind and bright.


  “You brought Shane home,” she said. “You did such a good job. Matthew’s waiting to play with you.”

  But whenever I turned to see him, Matthew vanished and Ras’ laughing face took his place, taunting me and threatening to steal him away forever.

  I saw the Den on fire, the machines glowing bright orange with heat as they collapsed in on the floor below. I couldn’t tell if the sounds that followed were screams or just the protests of the warehouse as the wood was consumed.

  I was running, but my paws fell on glass instead of a road. Each step brought pain through my limbs, but I couldn’t stop. I had to save them, though I didn’t know if I ran to save the Marchs, my pack, Matthew, May, or Shane. In the dream, it didn’t matter. I just kept running.

  I was at the car, bullets shattering windshields and the flash of gunshots bright through a pitch black night. I heard the two shots over and over again followed by the sound of them striking Raven and May. I tried every time to jump in their way, to attack Ras before he could lift his gun, or to run with May myself, but every time the result was the same.

  I stared at her closed eyes and the blossom of red on her chest while Ras laughed his merciless, soulless laugh; but when I looked up, I saw Shane instead of Ras, my brother’s blue eyes circled with yellow, and feathers sprouting along his arms. He tried to take May, but I wouldn’t let him touch her.

  Eventually the dreams lessened to a quieter place of darkness edged in red. I could smell Kyla’s soft scent and followed it, straining my eyes to see what was beyond the black so thick I could barely breathe. I searched everywhere for her and longed for her touch the way a drowning man longs for air.

  Chapter 37- Kyla

  Marek slept three days without change in Kip’s bed. My parents debated each night about whether they should have taken him to a hospital, but Kip and I reminded them that his life wouldn’t be the only one hanging by a thread if they took him in. The penalty for aiding a Shifter came with a hefty jail sentence, and that was if you were lucky. The government tried hard to smother its mistakes.