The Color of Jade (Jade Series Book 1) (29 page)

With exposed tattooed swords and skulls that sleeved his arms, I wondered how anyone could have ever trusted him to lead the rebuilding of our civilization. I hated this man. I didn’t know him but I already knew I hated him. I glared at him and sunk further into the mattress as he approached me.  He stood in front of me with Olympic grandiosity and command and then grabbed my arms, pulling me up to stand and face him.

“Where is my brother?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” he said firmly. His deep voice sounded about as dark as his uncaring black eyes. The stale smell of cigarettes on his breath along with a stench of alcohol nauseated me further. “I’m Dale Morrison and you are going to tell me everything I want to know.”

“I doubt that!”  I stared at him as my heart pounded. I couldn’t breathe. His eyes narrowed as he loomed imposingly over me.

“Sooner or later, you will. Where did Kane go?” He demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“We can do this easy or you can make this difficult on yourself. You’re lying! Where is he?”

“Kane doesn’t tell me where he goes. I don’t know!”

He turned towards the mirrored glass. At that moment, the mirror moved into the wall. I saw through the clear glass into the next room as Trey bound to a chair received a brazen blow to his ribs by a man in the room. His face, bloody and beaten, hung onto his chest.

“I don’t know anything!”

The guard picked up an object from the table in the far corner of the small room. I recognized the object instantly and I gasped as panic flooded through my veins. A long metal rod with a black handle gripped in his hand with two one-inch long spikes at the end. A blue current coursed between the two points. Trey’s eyes grew wide as the man jabbed the cattle prod into his ribs. His body jerked and thrashed uncontrollably as he wailed with raging hot pain. Every muscle went rigid in his body, his neck veins corded and pulsed as he strained against the surge of current.

“Please stop! Don't hurt him!”  I begged and Morrison ordered the men to back off. Trey’s body fell limp, his face reddened and his breaths exaggerated as he tried to recover.

“The more you fight me… The more he’s going to get it so I suggest you cooperate.”

“I told you, I don’t know anything about where Kane is! If I knew I would tell you!”

Silent tears rolled down my cheek from my impulsive suggestion of giving up Kane to this evil man, but I couldn’t bear to see Trey hurt and I would do just about anything to get them to stop.

Morrison squeezed my shoulders as he shoved me against the wall. He stepped closer and touched my bruised cheek with his fingers. My breath caught with the fear of him touching me as he slowly ran his fingers through my hair and grabbed me by the back of my head. He clenched my hair in his fist as he pulled my head back and towered over me. He forced me down to the mattress, my arms hung by the ropes and cut into my wrists.

I struggled as he motioned for one of the other men to come over. He had a syringe with a clear substance in his hand with a long pointed needle.

“This is going to continue between the two of you until one of you breaks! Who are his contacts?” Morrison fumed with his face red with anger.

“I don’t know, I already told you, Kane doesn’t tell me anything!”

“This is Roger Jackson. Maybe you might recognize the name of his son… Quinn Jackson… The man you killed.”

“Maybe if he wouldn’t have attacked me, he might still be alive!”

“You're probably right about that.”

“Then why am I here! Why is my brother here, he wasn't even there!”

“Let's just say, you're going to have a long time to sit and figure it out.” Jackson said, as his dark calloused eyes bore through me. I shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

Jackson’s face looked leathered and worn, aged beyond his years. At one time, he might have been quite handsome. He still appeared physically strong with his toned biceps that stretched the sleeves of his black shirt. His balding head shaved smooth reflected the glow of the light that hung just above him. The only hair unshaven was the short salt and pepper stubble that framed his lips and extended down over his chin.

My breaths increased in dreaded anticipation with each step as he walked towards me. His stride resounded in bold arrogance through the heavy sounds of his black boots. This was Quinn's dad, Damian’s dad! I could see how Damian resembled him, an almost identical younger version of him. Not only did they have the same missile guided steely eyes but possessed the same self-bolstering ego. Their characters, defined and blatantly visible by their cynical boldness and hostility.

I twisted and tried to pull my hands free, which Morrison held pinned against the wall with his hands.

“You sure Damian can handle her?” Morrison asked Jackson.

“All the more challenging,” Jackson boasted as he glared at me. “You know, you are a lot like me.”

“I am nothing like you.”

You’re more like me than you realize. See, I’m just protecting my family. Wouldn’t you do the same if someone killed your little sister?”

“You stay away from my sister!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on doing anything to her, but I can’t guarantee your brothers will have the same generosity. It’s too bad your dad isn’t around to see this.”

“Where is your dad anyway?” Morrison said, with a devious glare.

“He’s dead.” I gave them both a puzzled look.

“Richard Kennington… I don’t think so. It'll take more than a catastrophic epidemic to bring him down,” Morrison jeered, the undertone of sarcasm and resentment laced deep in his words. “You know, I’ve met your dad...  He worked for the railroad, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s transported supplies back east for me in the past. In fact, that’s what he was doing on the last trip he made,” he paused, his eyes shifted as he watched me closely for a reaction. “Are you sure he’s dead?”

“If my dad was alive, you wouldn’t be here. He would have put you in your place a long time ago!”

“You think your dad could have taken me down? Maybe he would have…” He leaned in closer, his voice, low and sinister. His roughened dry lips so close to my ear that I felt his hot breath against my cheek. “Would
you
kill me if you had the chance, Jade Kennington?”

I hesitated as my heart pounded violently out of my chest. “Maybe…”

“You mean, if you had a loaded gun with me standing in front of you, you would say...
Maybe?
”

I didn’t like that he toyed with me and I was furious again. “Why don’t you give me that gun of yours and find out!”

Morrison stood up straight and chuckled. “You have more of your dad in you than I thought. Maybe you do have what it takes to kill me, Jade… We'll have to make sure you never get the chance,” Morrison said, and laughed. “Get your payback, Jackson.”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Jackson said, in a low shady voice. I couldn’t move as Jackson knelt over me. With a calloused hand, he pierced the needle into my skin and injected a clear liquid into my arm. “You just might, too.”

The room started to spin as my strength disappeared and left me vulnerable and unable to fight. The heaviness of my arms and legs weighted me to the mattress. Jackson untied my arms and they fell to my sides. He picked me up and pulled me out of the room. My legs could barely hold my body as they struggled to keep up.

The walls moved like waves in the ocean, obvious effects of the drug. Jackson's voice sounded drawn out with his words warped by his disfigured face as the unpleasant feeling of floating down the long hallway poured over me.

“She’s all yours,” he said, as we came to a room.

Jackson shoved me towards Damian and I stumbled to the ground. The square grey tiles of the floor were cold with an overpowering smell of mildew. Suddenly, a powerful spray of ice-cold water hit me like a thousand nails. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t as I struggled for air and curled up into a ball. It seemed like an hour passed before the hosing stopped, though my perception of time felt drastically altered. The weight of my clothes from the water stung me as little red blisters appeared over my skin.

“Did you enjoy your shower? Don’t expect it to be your last. I want to make sure you're well taken care of… We are done for now,” he said. I didn’t move, I didn’t try to get away, I lay there, exhausted. My eyes closed and I let the tears quietly fall as he turned and spoke to one of the guards. “Lock her up… there’s something I need to finish.”

I woke with a start, like a screaming alarm clock in my head, surrounded by a disorienting blackness to the all too familiar sounds of his footsteps. My heart raced. I struggled to breathe in dreaded anticipation of the brutal interrogations. Fearful in a slowed, drug induced state, I gasped as the door bashed against the wall. Damian grabbed me and pulled me down the hall. The lights blinding to my overly sensitive eyes.

“Please… not the showers,” I begged, but lacked much persuasion.

“Jade!”

I heard my name as we moved past an open doorway. I latched onto the doorframe. My white-knuckle grip stopped Damian and I fought to get away.

“Trey!” I screamed, as I saw him through the doorway. He struggled against Rubin, the guard and the ropes that held him. He received a few blows before they wrestled him face down on the table. Trey’s face, beaten and badly bruised, red from the strain as he struggled pointlessly to get to me.

I elbowed Damian in the nose. Stunned he let go of his grip on me as he grabbed his face in agony and I scrambled to get to Trey. I clung to him desperately. His shirt, the same shirt he wore that night they took us revealed dirt and visible bloodstains, damp with sweat from his struggles.

Damian grabbed me. I fought with everything I had as they tore me from Trey’s grasp. Pain shot through my fingers as I gripped with desperation onto the doorway. My screams echoed loudly through the hollow hallways as Damian pried my fingers off the metal doorframe.

“You want to stay? You want to watch Trey get his beating!” Damian’s face raged, smeared with blood and anger as he picked up a pair of pliers off the table. “Have you ever watched someone get their fingernails ripped out?”

“No! Don’t!”

“Tell me what I want to know! Where’s Kane?”

I frantically searched Trey’s eyes. Confined by Rubin, his arms spread eagle with his chest flat and his cheek pressed against the table. With heated eyes Trey looked up at me, his face anguished and bruised. He shook his head. His eyes pleaded and warned me to keep quiet as Rubin and the guard tied his arms to the table.

“I don’t know!”

“Where’s your dad!”

“My dad is dead! Why do keep asking about him!”

“You have two seconds to tell me where Kane is meeting your dad!  
One!
”

He handed the guard the pliers as he stared at me closely. His eyes crazed like a wild animal. Was it possible? Could my dad really be alive? I thought of the possibility. He couldn’t be! Kane wouldn’t keep that from me, would he?

“Damian! I don’t know!” I cried! I desperately wanted to give him something! To satisfy his warped, sadistic mind and end his animalistic rage, but it had to be believable.

“
Two!
” Damian turned to the guard to give the order and with Trey’s hands spread out on the table struggled to get a hold of his finger.

“Wait!   Stop!”

“I’m waiting, Jade!”

“I’ll tell you… He’s in Mi…!”

“Jade no!” Trey yelled. His eyes shocked, angry. “What are you doing?” I felt torn I couldn’t watch him tortured. My heart pounded with intensity that caused a sharp pain in my chest as everyone looked at me, waiting for my response. I wanted to run, to hide in a hole and never come out. My own death couldn't possibly be this bad and suddenly, I wished I had died with my mom.

“Tell me!”

“He’s…” I looked at Trey. His eyes hurt as he still pleaded with me not to talk. I looked at him with a yearning for peace, for rest, for the brutality to be over. My body ached, my heart hurt and I couldn't breathe as if my chest were crushed like stamped metal.

“Jade don’t,” Trey said softer, as a look of submission settled in his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Now, Jade! And losing his fingernails will be the least of his worries!”

“Promise me you won’t hurt him!”

“Tell me right now! Or I’ll give the order!”

“He’s in M…Mexico…” My voice trailed off. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at my brother. “I’m sorry, Trey.”

Trey let his head fall against the table as if he’d given up, disappointed in me. I disappointed myself. With a barbed glare in his eyes, I shifted uncomfortably under my skin. The relief I longed for wasn't there. I felt as if I had reached into my chest and ripped out my own heart. My gut wrenched into a knot as if I signed and sealed Kane's execution, exposed something, or someone.

Damian grabbed my cheeks with his hand and moved his face closer to mine. “You better not be lying, or it’ll be your fingernails.”

“I’m not,” I said, as I tried to calm myself. My chest ached painfully as it constricted, I still couldn't breathe. Afraid he would know or could tell I lied.

“What part of Mexico?”

“Through New Mexico… Somewhere past the border by Texas.” A tear ran down my cheek. I looked into Damian’s eyes, wild and pathetic. Nothing but deceptive dark holes that led to the pit of his ruthless cold heart.

“Now, where were we,” he gave me a depraved smile. His hands tightened on my arms.

“Please… I gave you what you wanted.”

“You asked me not to hurt Trey. And I won’t… This time… For you telling me what I wanted to know. But I still have plans for you.”

Rubin leaned over Trey and spoke in his ear. My brother’s green eyes turned angry then visibly hurt. He looked up at me and I watched him struggle, his strained muscles pulled tight against his restraints.

“No!” He yelled.

“Let go of me!” I cried, as Damian gripped my arms tightly. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m giving you your mark.”

“What mark?’

“The mark that will always remind you who you belong to!”

“No, I don’t want it!  Trey!  Stop!”  He pulled me down the hallway that seemed to close in around me then stopped in front of a closed door. “I don’t want to go in there!   Please…!”

***

Through a fog, I slowly lifted my head and looked around an unfamiliar room, unsure of how I got there. I blinked, my eyes heavy with lethargy. My mind cleared from the familiar haze as the drug wore off. The stinging, burning sensation in my chest just below my left shoulder grew with intensity and reminded me of earlier. The tightness of the handcuffs around my wrists became more apparent as I realized I was strapped to a chair and I glance up to see Morrison.

A tattoo of a bound woman on his upper right arm. Her curves accentuated by his bulging bicep. She sat in a chair with barely any clothes. Her head hung down and her long hair covered her face and some of her body. I glanced down at my filthy, worn clothing that hung from mine. She resembled everything I felt.

I looked past him. Books lined the back wall up to the height of the ceiling. Picturesque windows took the place of the outside wall. A big black flag hung on the center of another wall. A symbol, an A with a sword slashed through it, circled in gold and blood red stitching. I stared at it for more than a moment, stunned by the level of organization Morrison had accomplished with his faction of rebels. More than just rebels against a fallen nation, a fully functional and operating Militia against the once, strongest nation in the world.

I pulled my eyes from the flag and glanced at Morrison. Behind him, filing cabinets and a desk with papers scattered across the top. He leaned back against the cherry oak desk with his arms folded across his chest directly in front of me. His dark eyes followed mine and our glares met briefly but I had to look away.

I looked out the window to the unfamiliar surroundings of the mountains outside. The jail was in the middle of the city with big buildings that surrounded it. I wasn’t in the jail any longer.

“Where am I?”

“You are in my home now.”

“Why?”

A long uncomfortable silence filled the air.  “So your dad’s in Mexico?”

I hesitated as the events with Trey suddenly flooded back into my mind. “Yeah,” I said as I continued with my lie. A single tear spilled down my cheek. I looked down at my bound wrists. Sunlight filtered in ribbons through the window and as it rested on me, I recognized the warmth as it soaked into my skin. I suddenly felt guilty as I thought of Trey, confined in that cold, dark jail.

Morrison gave a nod to Jackson who stood against the wall and he walked out the door.

“Figures he would run to Mexico,” Morrison mumbled. “If your dad is in Mexico, Jackson will find him. I hope for your sake he is.”

“What do you want with my dad?”

“Two reasons. Years ago… your dad took something from me.”

I looked at him with disbelief as I tried to wrap my mind around the idea of my dad, involved somehow with this man and I wondered if my mom had known about it.

“Does he still have it?”

“No, he lost it. I made sure of that,” Morrison sneered. I wanted to slide deeper into my seat. His eyes penetrated deeply, unreadable to what he thought but possessed an overbearing tyrannical demeanor. “No, I’ll never get that back, don’t want it back. But having you here now has facilitated getting even with him.”

“And the second?”

“He’s crossed me twice and I’m not going to let it go this time,” he said. His deep voice thick with resounding promise sent a chill up my spine as I wondered what he had in mind.

“What did he do?”

“Let’s just say he has something else of mine…still in his possession, and I
will
have it back.”

His steely glare left me uncomfortable and it disturbed me even more to talk about my dad with him. My dad was dead and whether Morrison wanted to believe it or not he would never get back whatever he thought my dad took, but I wasn't about to try to convince him of it.

“The last run he made, he wasn’t supposed to be gone so long. I needed something on that train…You know, you could have bypassed the last two weeks if you would have given me what I wanted then.”

“So it’s my fault you tortured me?”

“Yeah, it is. You give me what I want, and your life will be easier… And Trey’s. In fact, let’s just say, your behavior directly affects what kind of treatment your brother gets.”

“I want to see Trey.”

“Okay… I will let you see him for a minute,” he surprised me as he gave a quick nod to someone to the side of me. I turned my head slightly and glanced back to see a less than enthused Rubin as he propped himself against the wall. He moved upright slowly, and then headed for the door. I looked back at Morrison as he cleared his throat. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

My mind felt conflicted as I wondered if I dared to believe he would let me see Trey as I became desperately hopeful. Morrison stood and walked towards me slowly. I sank into my chair as his heavy boots thudded against the hardwood floor and he stood directly in front of me. “Damian will show you to your room and
if
you behave, you won’t have to go back to your cell.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going live here now. You are free to go where you want, within certain boundaries. If you don’t abuse your freedoms, you will eventually get to go outside with the others. But if you cross me, you’ll wish you were dead. There is no way to get out… So don’t try to escape... It won’t turn out good.” Morrison walked to the window and looked out, blocking the ribbon of light that I so desperately needed. As if, he himself, gave me the sun and would take it away and leave me in the shadows whenever he felt necessary. “You belong to Damian now.”

“No I don’t!”

“Shut your mouth!” He whirled around and walked briskly towards me. He grabbed my arms and moved closer. His eyes narrowed. “The first thing I suggest you learn here is
where your place is
and when to
bite your tongue
! I have picked you for Damian!”

“You can’t force me to want him!”

“It’s not your decision!” He yelled, the veins in his forehead pulsed, fueling his mind with the venom that encouraged his insane ideas. “It’s mine. He’ll give you time to accept him.”

“I will never-!”

“Yes you will!” He said as he cut me off. “This is your life now!... Damian! Take her out!”

The familiar sounds of Damian’s boots echoed in the room as he crossed the hardwood floor. The handcuffs sprung open as Damian released the locks and he grabbed me by the arm. We walked down a long hallway that seemed to narrow, constricting my weak grasp for control of my own life. We passed wide stairs that spiraled down. My eyes followed them to where they ended in some kind of entryway, presumably the front door.

“Don’t go downstairs until I say you can. Everything you need is upstairs,” Damian said, as we came to a door he placed a silver key through the doorknob and twisted it open. He walked me inside and I looked around the dreary room. “This is your room. Mine is across the hall…for now,” Damian turned to leave.

“You can’t make me like you!”

“You will…in time.”

“I love Gage!”

Angrily, Damian whirled around with a swift blow. His unexpected abrasiveness threw me to the floor. I shrieked. My hand went up and touched my cheek. It throbbed instantly and started to swell. I forced back tears. He towered over me with anger in his eyes he grabbed my arm and forced me to stand in front of him.