Capture (12 page)

C
HAPTER 5

I
'
d expected them to keep everyone locked up inside one of the buildings. Instead, the camp looked more like an old fashioned asylum for the insane, with zombie-like “patients” shambling around or seated on the ground.

The military truck pulled into the center of the camp yard and parked.
The soldiers exited first, dragging out prisoners between them. But none of the prisoners from the truck seemed able to stand, their feet dragging behind them, so it took two soldiers to unload each prisoner. They set the prisoners half upright on their knees in the dirt in two long lines as more soldiers came out of the tent building to help, followed by someone in a white coat like a doctor might wear. I zoomed in more  and noticed each new prisoner now had what looked like a nicotine patch on the side of their neck. Some kind of short term tranquilizer patch for the ride over to the camp? That must be how they kept the outcasts from using their abilities to get free before reaching the camp.

They were holding each new prisoner still
on the ground while the guy in the lab coat gave the prisoner an injection of something in his or her upper left shoulder.

“
Tarah, I think I found your dad.” Dr. Williams was on his knees on the ground and clearly struggling to talk to one of the soldiers. After a minute, the soldier pressed a black band around his neck, and another soldier came out of the tent to join them. The new guy spoke to Dr. Williams, reached into his coat, pulled out what looked like a wallet and studied something inside it.

“What’s happening? Is he okay?”
Tarah asked.

“Yeah, I think so. They’re talking to him.” I froze. “Wait, they’re standing him up.”

Were they about to execute her father?

I held my breath
as they steadied Dr. Williams on his feet.

Then they cut his zip ties, releasing his wrists, and led him over to one of the long metal buildings, where all three disappeared inside.

I told her what I saw. Her eyes widened with renewed terror.

“Relax,” I muttered, hoping I wasn’t about to lie to her. “If they’d wanted to hurt him, they wouldn’t have bothered to take him away first.”

Still, I kept my ears trained for any gunshots in the distance. Other than the occassional howling of the wind, it was so quiet out here I was pretty sure we’d hear if a gun was fired.

I check
ed the gated entrance more closely. “Looks like only one way in and out, through a front double gate system.” The place looked impenetrable. Even if someone managed to tunnel in through the sandy soil, guards would spot them in no time.

The last of the new prisoners had now been unloaded from the truck and dosed.
Other guards checked the new prisoners' eyes after they were dosed then cut the zip ties at their wrists and let them shamble off. Whatever drug they were using must be pretty darn potent to work that quickly. Even the biggest guys lurched and stumbled or sat on the ground in a daze.

No telling how many of these camps had been set up all across the country.
The tent, rounded top buildings and fencing system could have been erected in a matter of days and just as easily moved again if needed. Now I undestood how they kept their camps' locations a mystery.

Knowing I couldn't help the prisoners, I tried not to focus on them but failed.
Seeing the adults wander around lost and confused was bad enough. But the kids... There was something so wrong about them, like the scene of a car wreck I couldn't look away from. Little kids should be running around, making noise, laughing. These weren't. They simply sat on the ground, some in pairs, some alone, a few near adults. I zoomed in on them, hoping to see at least a few digging in the dirt or talking to each other.

No movement from any of them.
All of them sat staring at nothing, their mouths hanging open, drool shiny on their chins.

I froze, barely breathing, trying to hold myself as still as possible while I checked for some signs of life in them.

Then I caught a blink. And another. They blinked so slowly, it was hard to actually see the movement. If I squinted just right, though, I could also barely make out the movements of their chests and stomachs as they breathed.

I started counting.
Twenty. Twenty-five. Twenty-seven. No, make that twenty-nine. One sat on the ground leaning against a seated woman's leg. And in the woman’s arms rested…

“
What’s happening now?” Beside me, Tarah sat with her hands clasped together in a fist she pressed to her lips as if in prayer. Probably praying for some miraculous way to get her father released.

“
There’s a baby.” The baby kicked its bare arms and legs in the air, knocking loose a thin blanket that fluttered in the wind and was held only where it was caught between the baby and its mother’s arm. Beside them sat a little girl with curly, tangled blonde hair.

Tarah
leaned in beside me, nudging me with her shoulder till I shifted the binoculars so we could both look through them.

The sun began to set behind us, dropping the temperature a few degrees at a time
, aided by a wind that blew over us again from the camp’s direction. I shivered inside my hoodie.

That baby didn't have on anything except a diaper.

Tarah drew in a sharp breath. “Where are its clothes? It'll freeze out here.”

The mother's button-up shirt flapped loosely in the breeze.
The now loose blanket and her body heat must have kept her baby alive.

The baby opened its mouth,
and seconds later the wind carried its cries over to us. No response from its mother even as the baby rooted its face around against her until it managed to nurse through her shirt.

I watched the baby's feet, kicking in the air at first, then slowing down.
Was it falling asleep?

It seemed to, its tiny head rolling away from its mother after only a minute of nursing.
Its eyes were closed, its arms and legs relaxing spread eagled, one hand almost touching the little girl's hair beside them.

The baby's tummy expanded and contracted with each breath.
But the longer I watched, the slower those movements became. Then there was no movement at all.

I held my breath, thinking I was moving too much to see it at this distance.

As I watched, the pale pink tint slowly left the baby's skin, replaced by a mottled, bluish white color.

The binoculars slipped. Tarah grabbed them to steady them. I let her take them completely.

“Hayden, the baby…something’s wrong with it,” she muttered.

She rose up onto her knees
, pressing the binoculars harder against her face. I should have stopped her, but I was numb with shock and hopeful that I was wrong.

She frowned.
“It’s not moving. Is it…” She froze. “I can’t see it breathing.”

I wasn't imagining it.

“Why aren’t the guards coming over to help it?” she muttered. “It’s like they don’t even care!”

Because they didn’t.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that, though. So I sat there, leaning against the tree, grinding my skull against its rough bark while a sick feeling grew in my stomach.

A baby had just died, and not a single guard there cared.

“
Wake up,” Tarah whispered. “Come on. Wake up.”

She whispered it over and over, her shoulders shaking, as if she could
do a spell to will the baby to live again. Heck, maybe she could. But it seemed an awful long distance for her to use any special healing abilities over.

After a few minutes, I had to stop her.
If she was able to heal others, it wasn't working right now.

“
Tarah,” I croaked, reaching for her hand, unsure which of us I was trying most to comfort.

She slapped it away.
“No. It's going to wake up. Just wait a minute.”

Was it the cold?
It had happened so fast…one minute the baby had been kicking and wailing, thin but at least okay and moving and hungry. The next…

The breast milk.
If its mother was being drugged, didn't the drugs get passed on through nursing?

And if the guards couldn't care enough about a
Clann member's baby to ensure it had a blanket around it in November, then what would it matter to them if that baby overdosed? To them, the death of that baby must have meant nothing more than just one less prisoner for them to have to keep an eye on.

Despite all the drugs being pumped into her system, that mother had still managed to hold onto her baby.
She must have loved it a lot.

I hoped she never woke up from the drugs.
If she did, and found her baby dead in her arms…

Horror mixed with the fast rush of fury, making my head reel.
I wanted to hit something, throw something, yell. But what good would any of that do?

I cupped Tarah's elbow, trying to lead her away
. But she refused to move, still watching the camp. Then she gasped. “There's a man near the gates. He's… I think he's trying to climb them.” Setting the binoculars on the ground between us, she pulled her phone out of her coat pocket, tapped its screen a few times, then held it up to the binoculars, using them like an advanced zoom for her camera.

“
What are you doing?” I said.

“
Recording this. People need to know what's going on at these camps. There's no way this is legal!”

I
leaned over and watched the recording on her phone’s screen.

A big guy, built like a bear ready for winter, had apparently not been given enough drugs for his large size.
He was scrabbling at the fence gate, trying to claw his way up.

The two guards posted on stands at
either side of the gate looked down at him. The two guards on the ground near the fence also turned towards the man. I figured they would move in and physically drag him away like they had with Tarah’s dad.

Instead, all four guards raised their rifles.

“They're gonna tranquilize him again,” Tarah muttered.

One of the soldiers who had taken Tarah’s father into a building stepped out.
He stood outside the building’s door, watching the scene at the gate, his hands on his hips. The guards' leading officer probably.

It was like watching that video of
Aimee's arrest again. I couldn't do anything to stop it, and at the same time couldn't look away. Any second now, the darts would appear in the man's neck and…

The officer in charge touched the black band at his neck, his lips moving as he apparently told his guards something.

Shots cracked through the air.

The prisoner fell from the fence.
Red spots bloomed on his back then quickly puddled on the cement around him.

Live rounds.
The guards were using real ammo now instead of tranq darts.

Tarah

I stopped the recording then played the video again on my phone’s screen, holding it close to my face so I could see it better. “They...they shot him. They actually
shot
him!”

The guards had just murdered a
prisoner. But how could they? Weren’t we still in America, where there were rules about how prisoners must be treated? Just because he was a Clann descendant or outcast trying to escape…

“
Come on. We've got to get out of here.” Hayden spoke low and fast, taking my phone from my hands that had suddenly gone numb.

I tried but couldn’t move.
My body didn’t seem to want to work anymore.

“
Tarah, we've got to go. Now!”

Dimly I heard him, but his words were like an alien language.
They didn’t make any sense.

They shot that man.
And that baby, dying in its mother’s arms…

Something heavy wrapped around my shoulders, lifting me up onto my feet and pressing me against Hayden’s rock hard body.
It was like being trapped against a warm wall, only to find the wall was guiding me up out of a ditch and down into another to his truck. I couldn’t find the will to resist, though I knew there was some important reason why I needed to stay.

At the passenger door, we stopped, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
My mind didn’t want to work anymore, either. Strong hands took hold of my hips then lifted me, and I found myself on the truck seat and my legs tucked into the passenger side floorboard before the door swung shut.

The world tilted as Hayden drove us away.
He cursed under his breath, fighting the wheel as we nearly rolled in the sandy, steep ditch before he got us turned around and headed down the road again.

My father was a prisoner there too.
How would I get Dad out of that place?

“
Tarah, are you okay? Talk to me.”

Talking took too much effort.
I bent my knees up against my chest, tucking my arms in between my knees and chest to try and stop my hands from shaking.