Jaden Baker (53 page)

“Taken?” she asked.

“Kidnapped. Abducted,” he said, watching the trees zoom past him.

“Taken where?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn down, mouth twisted open, eyes alert. “And why?”

Jaden chewed on the answer before spitting. Joseph’s lab was in San Francisco, but he didn’t know where Dalton’s was, except it was under a house, presumably Dalton’s own home.

“San Francisco,” he answered, for the sake of simplicity. “Underground. Well, I’m not sure where I was taken at first,” he said, clarifying, not comfortable with the omission. “But it was also underground.”

Libby kept whipping her head to his face and back to the road, her shocked expression more pronounced with each word spoken.

“Oh my gosh, for how long?” she asked.

“Six years,” he said, surprised at how easily the truth came.

“Six years?” she repeated. “Six years underground? Oh jeez. How many people were down there with you?” Her voice had become high-pitched.

“What do you mean, ‘with me’?” he asked.

“How many others like you? Were there a bunch of kids down there? Oh this is sick. So there’s a lab in San Francisco, underground, where they do weird experiments on children? I knew Archcroft was twisted, but my God!”

Jaden waited before answering, watching her shake her head in disgust.

“Just me,” he said quietly. “And the staff.”

She slammed the brakes to keep from hitting a water truck, then stared at him.

“Just you?”

“Just me,” he said. The wasps returned, because the truth was coming. Why take Jaden, why take him down below for six years. What was so special about him? He wasn’t ready to tell her yet. It wasn’t something he told. How would that conversation go?

“I’m sure you want to know why,” Jaden said, heading her off, “and I’ll tell you, but not yet.” It was a lot to think about, a lot to explain. As he considered how he would tell her, he decided it was better if it was shown.

Now that he was away from Seattle, out of immediate danger, his body reminded him it was time to refuel. He had not eaten at all last night due to nausea, and before doing anything else he needed calories. Then he would show her.

“So there is a reason?” Libby asked.

“Yes,” Jaden replied. “There’s a reason.”

“You don’t have some kind of rare disease, do you?”

Jaden looked at her incredulous face. “No. I don’t have any disease. It’s nothing like that.” He tried remembering the reactions of Derek and Jenny sixteen years ago when items slid across the table into his hand. They spent so little time together, remembering their faces was difficult.

Libby lived in the country, on the outskirts of a small Norwegian town. She drove her little car up a hill and through thick trees until coming to a gravel driveway which was almost invisible to the road, a mailbox painted with horses and hounds the only marker. After scaling a slight hill, they came to a small, wood-stained house with a pitched dark green roof, and large windows. There was no garage, only a carport. A horse trailer and old Ford pickup were parked on a cement slab off the carport. Libby parked inside.

“We’re here!” she said, then got out.

Jaden reached for Cat, who was stiff and did not move when Jaden collected him. He held Cat to his chest as he got out of the car, then grabbed his backpack from the trunk.

“This is yours?” he asked. There was small yard, which ran to the back of the property, where two horses grazed in an open field.

“Yeah,” she said. “You want to come in?”

He followed her, feeling uneasy. Before he could get a good look, two small dogs with long hair came bounding from upstairs, barking loudly and running at both of them. Cat leapt from Jaden’s arms and skittered as fast as possible through the hall, both dogs giving chase. When Libby called them off they returned to Jaden, jumping on his legs, tails wagging, their ears back, their lack of proper muscles making it impossible for them to smile.

Jaden kneeled to pet the dogs, who pushed each other to get to him. Their long hair was soft to the touch. One was mostly black with white and tan on its nose, tan patches above the eyes. The other was reddish brown with a white mane. They were both the same breed, like Lassie only smaller.

“What kind of dogs?” Jaden asked, scratching the chest of the black dog.

“Shetland Sheepdogs. They are
not
miniature collies. That one is Trinity, and this one is Tucker,” she said, rubbing the brown dog. “Shelties, they’re called. Trinity is a tri-black, and Tucker here is a sable. The classic look. They like cats, so I’m hoping Cat will come out when he’s ready.”

After the dogs had enough loving, they took off down the hall, chasing each other around the house, still excited about the new person. Libby’s home had polished wood floors, green walls, and cathedral ceilings. Libby opened a door to what was obviously her office: a converted bedroom. Inside was an L-desk with two large computer monitors. The walls were decorated with artwork and movie posters, and a skinny bookshelf stood in a corner. She set a folder on a table. Then she led him into the living room. It had a massive and colorful rug on the floor, bright paintings on the walls, and obviously squishy and comfortable furniture. Best of all were the expansive windows looking over the horse pasture and the wooded hills, to the majestic Olympic Mountain range.

“My view kicks ass,” Libby said. “Here’s the kitchen,” she said, pointing to the room off the side, “and the dining room.” Upstairs were the two extra bedrooms. Libby led him into the first room. The room was stuffed with boxes and books, but it was perfect. He tossed his backpack on the bed then sat down, looking through the window to the mountains.

“Are you hungry?” Libby asked.

Jaden took a deep breath as he turned to see her. “Yes,” he said. Was she going to make him lunch? They were strangers and knew so little about each other, yet she was going to make him lunch, like they were what, acquaintances? “I have money,” he said, fumbling in his pack for rolls of cash. “I don’t want to take from you.”

“That’s okay,” she said, waving her hands.

“Well, I eat a lot. Let me help.”

“If you eat me out of house and home I’ll let you buy my groceries. But please let me make you lunch. Sandwiches all right?”

He nodded. Before she left, he asked one more favor. “Can I borrow some scissors and a razor?” The doctor and nurse at the hospital had seen him with his beard and long hair, two things that needed to go immediately.

Libby brought him a pair of sharp scissors and a new razor, then showed him into the downstairs bathroom. She also gave him an old magazine. “For the photos,” she said. “If you need ideas for a style.”

When he was alone in the bathroom (painted a soft tan) Jaden closed his eyes and leaned against a wall, trying to grasp his situation. Everything was about to change. In a few days he would leave Washington forever and run to a new place to start a new life. What he would do once he got there, he did not know. To stave off panic, Jaden prioritized his thoughts. The first thing was simple: cut his hair, shave his beard. He had to keep things simple to keep his emotions in check.

His reflection stared at him: tired gray eyes, long hair and beard obscuring most of his face. A sense of fear stole over him as he held the scissors. Not only had he been hiding from Joseph and Archcroft, he’d hidden from himself. Years had passed without Jaden seeing his own face. His beard and long hair acted as a shield, protecting his identity. Cutting it was disarming, but necessary.

With a deep breath, Jaden cut off a chunk of hair and pitched it in the trash. Then another, and another, until most of it was in a can under the sink. He tried making it even, and didn’t cut it short. When he was finished, his hair fell in bangs to his forehead, came halfway down his ears and brushed the collar of his shirt at the back. He was careful not to make it a mullet. Ignorant as he was about style, he was not a total fool.

Grabbing his beard in his left hand, Jaden cut until it was too close to his face to cut any more. Libby had left shaving cream on the bathroom sink. It was in a pink can and, as he squirt some onto his hand, it smelled like flowers. Jaden wet his face and applied the cream, working up a thick lather. He was about to complete his transformation.

Jaden splashed his face with cool water when he was sure it was done, dabbing at his smooth skin with a hand towel. The process had taken longer than he’d anticipated. Then again, the last time he’d shaved there had been little to remove.

The tormented boy was still there, haunting the lines around the eyes, pulling down the mouth. But it was a young man who watched Jaden now: a strong jaw, square chin, high cheekbones and a straight, thin nose. He rumpled his shiny black hair, quite surprised with how he had turned out. Not bad at all.

He ran three fingers under his jaw to his neck, where the not-long-enough scar reminded him of an attempt on his own life, and the circular burn marks from the electric collar: scars he wrongly assumed would vanish.

He made a promise to himself: if he couldn’t outrun Madrid, if he was trapped and cornered, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Next time, if it came to it, the suicide would complete, and Jaden would leave this world on his own terms and not be a slave to anyone.

He collected the stray hairs on the floor and tossed them in the trash, not wanting Libby to regret taking him in because he left a mess. Then he opened the door and walked down the hall to find Libby grilling peppers and toasting bread in the kitchen. She glanced at him as she diced onions, then looked again.

For the second time since meeting her, Jaden fought a smile. But it was the first time he noticed and felt her heart pound in her chest, and as he watched her watching him, the wasps in his stomach transformed into ladybugs, tickling instead of stinging. Her freckled cheeks blushed. He knew he wasn’t the only one fighting a grin.

“You shaved,” she said, suddenly making herself busy, flipping the peppers in the pan, popping toast from the toaster.

“Yes. It was time.”

Her heart thrummed. It made him smile.

She placed the peppers on the toast, drizzling them with dressing, then added spiced chicken, lettuce and provolone cheese.

“Looks better,” she remarked, keeping her eyes on the plates.

Jaden put his hands in his pockets and smirked at her. “You think so?”

“I do. Before it looked like you were hiding, or that maybe you’d killed a little girl with your big black Ford,” she said casually as she cut the sandwiches.

“What?” he asked, alarmed.

She flickered her eyes to his. “Movie. Didn’t see it?”

He shook his head, frowning.

“It was an independent film,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Although there are similarities between the faces,” she said, gesturing at his face. “It’s not important. I made three sandwiches for you, is that enough? I also have a bag of potato chips that I’d love for you to finish off so I won’t be tempted to.” She took a bag of chips from her pantry and handed them to him. “It’d be a huge favor to my thighs if you ate those.”

They sat at the dining table. Libby poured him a glass of lemonade, then one for herself. She bowed her head for a moment then crossed herself before draping the napkin over her lap. He felt gluttonous as he ate his way through the meal she had obviously put time into.

“Good?” she asked, smirking at him.

“Mmmm,” he said, nodding. It was only later, after he finished the last sandwich, his stomach praising him with songs and dances, that he registered he was sharing a meal with someone else.

“So, you pack away how many calories a day, do you think?” she asked, taking a sip of lemonade.

“Maybe seven to eight thousand.”

“Shut up,” she said.

He unwrapped the bag of chips and ate his way through them, granting Libby’s wish. They were kettle barbecue. He could see why she wanted to give them away, as he imagined they were highly addicting.

“You eat all those calories and look like that, all lean with no ounce of fat on you?” she said.

“Right,” Jaden replied.

“That’s really annoying,” she said. Libby put her dish in the washer then refilled her glass of lemonade and topped off his. When she sat back down, she put her arms on the table, holding her chin in a hand.

“You ride horses?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said smiling. “It’s a scream.” She fiddled with a fork then dropped it. “Okay, look, I can’t take it anymore. Please tell me the reason these people are after you. I’m dying here.”

Jaden set the empty bag on the table and wiped his fingers. He wanted to lick them first, but thought it might be rude.

She had a right to know why Archcroft hunted him, especially now he was staying in her house, possibly risking her own safety.

“You can’t wait any longer?” he asked.

“That’s impossible. It’s been killing me since I saw the tattoo on your arm in the hospital this morning. It’s practically all I could think about the whole way here.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m cursed with excessive honesty. Might as well get that out now,” she said.

“All right,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes. “I’ll tell you. But you have to keep this between us.”

“Okay,” she said, scooting her chair closer to the table, leaning her body in.