Jaden Baker (15 page)

“Bird,” Jaden said.

“Shoot him,” said Dalton.

William whipped a pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Jaden’s face.

Before Jaden could scream, the pistol flew out of William’s hand and hit the mirror, chipping it before the gun fell to the floor.

Jaden’s heart pounded. He hyperventilated, pulled at his restraints, and his body trembled.

William ran for the gun.

Jaden tried shuffling off the bench, but could only move a few inches. He pulled frantically at the chains.

William raised the gun and aimed again, his finger pulled on the trigger.

“NO!” Jaden screamed in a high voice.

The gun flew out of William’s hand and hit the wall.

“I said, shoot him!” Dalton yelled.

Jaden didn’t understand, he thought they wanted him alive. There was rage in William’s and Dalton’s eyes. Blood oozed from his wrists, though Jaden did not feel pain. Getting out of here was his only concern.

William aimed the gun, clutching it in both hands. He squeezed the trigger—

—the gun was wrenched from William’s fingers, only this time it did not fly backwards, but forwards, coming toward Jaden. It hit the back corner of the room, bounced on the padded wall, and tumbled to Jaden’s foot. Jaden grabbed it with his toes, slid it underneath him, and covered it with both feet.

The chains rattled on the table as Jaden shook. He was shivering, his lip trembling, and he felt cold, like he’d been forced into an icy pool. His heart didn’t beat as much as it cudgeled his ribcage, a loud hum in his ears. Awareness returned: his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his back, and his pants were wet.

Shaking his head but grinning, Dalton said: “That was incredible.”

Jaden’s teeth clattered when he tried talking—his voice could not be summoned.

William cradled his right hand with the left. “My fingers,” he muttered. “Look at my fingers.” They were bleeding, the blood running down his wrist and arm, a chunk of skin torn from his pointer finger.

“Get that cleaned up,” Dalton said, then turned to Alan in the far corner. “Get the gun, please.”

Alan didn’t move, he stared at Jaden with wide eyes, his mouth open.

“Pick up the gun, please Alan. He’s not going to hurt you,” Dalton said.

Alan hesitated before retrieving the weapon. Jaden pushed his feet on the gun; because his legs trembled and held no strength, Alan easily took it.

Jaden screwed his eyes shut and moaned, turning his head away, afraid Alan would shoot him in the head.

“Open it and set it down,” Dalton said.

Jaden heard the gun clunk on the table, and squinted his eyes at it.

The revolver’s chamber was empty.

Blinking tears, Jaden sat up, his lip quivering, teeth clattering in his mouth. He glared at Dalton, who grinned.

“You did well,” Dalton said, laughing. “Very well. I wasn’t expecting that.” He reached out his hand and patted Jaden’s arm.

Jaden jerked it, of course he couldn’t move.

Dalton stood and withdrew a small, silver key from his pocket. He gave it to Alan, who stared at it in his palm. Then Dalton unplugged the wires from the device, and one by one, he removed the sensors from Jaden’s head, wiping it with a warm and wet towel to clean the glue off Jaden’s skin.

“You’ll be hungry after the shock wears off,” Dalton said conversationally. “Alan will bring a meal to you, and I hope this time you eat. Then I expect you’ll want to sleep, which I also encourage. This exercise was hard on your mind and body and it will need rest.”

Jaden’s throat constricted—another fit of sobs was near. He pushed them down, closed his eyes tight, kept his head low, and waited for Dalton to leave.

It had been years since he had been so terrified. Every nerve in his body produced a different sensation, all culminating in horror. A series of images raced behind his eyes, showing themselves long enough for Jaden to recognize them as not-so-distant memories which haunted his dreams and waking nightmares.

There was a creaking sound as Alan used the silver key to free Jaden. He gathered his hands to him and folded his arms. His chin dropped to his chest and, not for the first time, he cried.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Alan said quietly.

But Jaden couldn’t get up, his body shook, and he couldn’t stop it. The image of the gun burned his mind: a six-shooter revolver, identical to the one on the table, the dark hole of the barrel pointed between his eyes. He wanted his mom.

Alan plucked him from the bench, holding his shoulders, standing him up. The door was open. Wiping tears from his face, Jaden walked numbly forward. Once in the hallway, Alan rubbed Jaden’s upper arms, warming him. Jaden was barely aware of the gesture. His wobbly legs made walking difficult. He tripped every few steps. Alan prevented him from falling by holding him with strong arms.

Casey met them outside the set of doors of Jaden’s cell.

“Dalton sent me to help,” Casey said, staring at Jaden.

“I’ve got it,” Alan said gently. “Just let us in.”

Unlike the previous day when it took three men to get him to shower and dress, Jaden entered the bathroom unaided and removed his sweaty clothes, operating as if under a haze. The shower turned on and he stepped under the warm water. Alan had not followed him inside.

The image of the gun pointed at him flashed in his mind repeatedly, and each time Jaden twitched. He couldn’t get it out of his head. Dalton lured him into a false sense of monotony with those cards. Pulling a gun had been the plan.

Jaden washed himself, sweat and urine rinsing away, spiraling into the drain. The tension and fear did not clean as easily.

The water turned off and Jaden dropped the soap and watched it slide. A towel and new set of clothes had been left on the sink. He dried himself and dressed as fast as possible, his fingers fumbling as they trembled.

Alan was gone. He was alone again.

Jaden walked wearily to the corner of the bed but did not sit. He wedged himself between the bed and the wall, the only private place, where gazes of the hidden men behind the mirror could not find him. With his knees to his chest, Jaden stopped holding back and allowed himself to cry.

He wanted so badly to hold Bear and smell his familiar scent. Thinking of Bear made him ache. Shaking fingers still numb and eyes still blurry, Jaden wiped at his eyes again, tears streaming freely. He thought vaguely of Derek and Jenny, but their faces swam away as another floated to the surface: a pointy face, long, sandy blonde hair, and wild eyes. Was she thinking of him, too, wondering where her lost boy had gone? Had they told her Jaden was missing? Would she even care? Even in that desperate moment, Jaden knew she must. At least he hoped.

What felt like a few hours later, Alan came with a tray of food: a tall stack of pancakes, three fried eggs, two strips of bacon. Alan set the tray on the floor across the room from Jaden.

“You have to stay there until I leave,” Alan said. He gave Jaden a sad smile.

Jaden nodded, and Alan left. Privacy had to be stolen, so he took the tray to his corner. He was shockingly hungry and devoured the pancakes in a few short minutes, surprised by their delicious taste.

If he was going to resist, and he was certain he would, a hunger strike was foolish. Dalton had proven victorious in that arena, and rebelling had wounded himself, not Dalton. No, he would have to find another area of resistance. Performing PK unintentionally was a mistake, but one he couldn’t avoid. Psychokinesis had always been there to protect him, and that was unlikely to change. He would have to be on his guard and expect to be frightened. It was through fear and endangerment he achieved supernatural feats.

He needed rules, a set of guidelines to keep him clear of trouble and prevent him from relinquishing too much control. Obviously he had already lost some ground, but not all of it. Humiliation was to be avoided at all costs. When it came to a decision of sacrificing his dignity or doing what Dalton asked, he would do what Dalton asked. What he had left was little but precious: his thoughts and his mind. No matter what Dalton or his staff did, they could never control what he thought or planned. That was his.

Dalton knew he was getting to Jaden, a fact Jaden abhorred. So far Dalton showed no sign of being bothered by Jaden’s outbursts, acts of violence, or disobedience. He was only concerned about breaking schedules. From now on Jaden would act similarly. He would not succumb to his fear or terrible sadness. He would pretend to be fine, amused even, with what was going on. This would take a great deal of practice, but it was essential to keeping his sanity and mind.

Jaden pumped his legs into the air, gaining more altitude. It was a bright day, not a cloud in the sky, the grass a perfect shade of green. Each hand held onto a plastic-covered chain so kids wouldn’t get their hair caught in the links. He pumped the air in and out. In and out. He swung so high there were moments when all he saw was sky, and as he swung the other way, the ground.

It was quiet, not even the chain creaked on the metal pole as he swung.

A boy was out in the distance, his face blurry, or maybe the boy was too far to clearly see his face. The boy waved.

Jaden dragged his feet on the sandy ground, bringing him to a gentle stop. There was something familiar about the boy.

“Hello,” Jaden said.

The faceless boy waved again.

“Do you want to come and play?” Jaden asked.

The boy appeared to shrug, but Jaden wasn’t sure. It wasn’t just the boy’s face that was blurry, the edges and lines of the boy were indistinguishable.

Jaden squinted and started for the boy, wanting to get a better look, or maybe to introduce himself. No matter how long he ran toward the other boy, he never got closer.

“Who are you?” Jaden asked.

The faceless boy folded his hands.

I don’t feel it.

“What?” Jaden asked.

I don’t feel it.

Jaden squinted as the sun suddenly brightened, and the park dissolved into blinding white light.

“Are you awake?” Dalton asked, his face close to Jaden’s. He was frowning thoughtfully, flashing a light in Jaden’s eyes.

Jaden rolled onto his stomach and pulled the blanket over his head. He was exhausted, and sore from being tense the day before. Shutting his eyes and nuzzling his face into the pillow, Jaden sighed and tried going back to sleep. He expected Dalton to object; shockingly he did not.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a time, trying to return to the dream he had been having before being rudely woken. There had been a park, the rest was blank.

Dalton sat on the floor on the other side of the room, reading. Jaden swung his legs over the bed and rubbed his face, trying to remember his new rules but wanting to abandon them as Dalton watched Jaden watch him.

“How did you sleep?” Dalton asked.

You’re an evil son of a bitch, you human piece of garbage. I hope you die a horrible, painful, twisting death with barbed wire and blood. I would’ve slept better in my own bed at home with the people I had grown to like, you stupid shit face.

“Fine,” Jaden said. He hopped out of bed to use the bathroom and thought of a hundred more snide remarks he wished to say. While in the bathroom, Jaden brushed his teeth. Keeping his mouth occupied stopped him from mocking Dalton. Some boys needed reminding to take care of themselves, he had never been one of them. Brushing his teeth made him feel a little better; he’d take what he could.

Dalton sat cross-legged on the floor when Jaden returned. Today Dalton wore a green striped tie. It was the only color in the room.

“How are you feeling?” Dalton asked.

How am I feeling? Splendid. Yesterday (or what I think was yesterday) I had a gun shoved in my face and was tied to a table so I couldn’t run, only to learn the gun was never loaded, you just wanted to scare the shit out of me so I’d do what you wanted. I’m sore, my wrists are bruised, and I want to beat your face with a hammer. Other than, oh I’m just
peachy
.

“A little sore,” Jaden said.

Dalton stood and came towards Jaden, who wanted to retreat. Showing fear violated his new rules. Jaden rooted his feet and let Dalton advance.

“Let me see your hands,” Dalton said.

Jaden had never liked people touching him, even people he knew. But if he didn’t show Dalton his hands, what would Dalton do next?

He thrust out his hands and Dalton took them. Jaden’s swollen wrists had turned purple and blue overnight.

“You shouldn’t have pulled so hard,” Dalton said, dropping them.

Jaden bit his lip to keep from screaming. So this was all his fault, then. Of course. He shouldn’t have pulled so hard. He was an idiot for trying to get away from someone who was trying to shoot him!