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.
Should I call someone for help? A lawyer maybe?
Would Dad be okay there?
How could he be? They’d killed a prisoner and let another die right in front of them! Nobody who wasn’t a guard could ever be safe in a place like that.
“Tarah?”
But how to get him out?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an arm reach out towards the dashboard and turn a knob. Air rushed out of the vents, a dull roar in the cab’s silence.
It seemed only seconds later that a low buzzing sounded from somewhere at my left. After a long moment, Hayden picked up my phone and read the screen.
“It’s a text from your mom. Do you want to reply to her, let her know you’re okay?”
And then what? What could Mom possibly do to free Dad? Mom was a psychiatrist, not a Navy Seal. What would she do, talk them to death? Get the guards to tell her their feelings?
Maybe she could torture them all with the same psych tests she’d tortured me with. If she did, they might let Dad go free just to get rid of her.
I had to fight the insane urge to giggle at that thought.
Even if we found a way to get Dad out somehow, what about the rest of the prisoners? How would we get them out of there?
A warm hand gently touched my wrist, making me jump. Then its warmth began to seep into my skin. I stared at those long tanned fingers, fingers that were so often seen spinning basketballs on their tips for hours in the halls at school between classes like some character from a High School Musical movie. Shouldn’t Hayden be at practice right now? Or a game?
What time was it anyway? It was getting darker, the sun setting behind us, taking all the light with it so we were forced to drive into the growing darkness.
It would be getting dark at the internment camp. And cold. And no one had any blankets there. Would Dad be warm enough?
My fault he was there. If I’d never opened my big mouth about the strange abilities I'd seen others do, he never would have insisted on going to that protest today to try and find willing outcasts who would let him use his biofeedback equipment to try and help them learn to control their abilities.
A low curse rumbled in the air to my left as the truck slowed and eased over to the side of the freeway then stopped completely. A loud click then a bang made me jump as a door was opened and slammed shut, then my door fell away from my side. It took me a few seconds to realize it was because Hayden had gotten out, come around to my side of the truck, and opened the door.
“Tarah, look at me,” Hayden growled from the open doorway.
Something in his tone made me look at him standing there, his breaths puffing in the cold evening air, his eyes intense but unreadable beneath that mop of hair over his forehead.
Maybe he could tell me how to save my dad. “They shot that prisoner," I whispered. "And that baby…”
“I know.” He rubbed my arms then the outside of my legs through my jeans for some reason, and though it was a strange gesture for him to make, the friction from the brisk contact was also comforting in a way, creating warmth that slowly spread across my skin and also seemed to thaw my mind around the edges.
“Why? Why did they do that?” I searched his eyes but didn’t find any answers.
“I don't know.”
“And that baby… No blanket. No clothes. No one to take care of it—” My voice broke as the cold air caught in my lungs and burned.
He slowly pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me, his heart pounding beneath my cheek, and I had to blink faster as my eyes stung.
How would I save my dad and all those poor people in that place? I didn’t know anyone in the military. Jeremy didn’t count; he was just a journalist embedded thousands of miles away. He couldn’t help. I would have to do something. But what?
Would my dad die in that camp too, like that baby and that man who tried to climb the fence? Would they start drugging my dad too so he wouldn’t fight them?
It all seemed so incredibly hopeless, and stupid, and pointless. None of those people should be imprisoned in the first place, much less treated like mindless cattle!
Was I the only person on the planet who knew about this and cared? Why weren’t the papers and the bloggers writing about this? Why weren’t there petitions to stop this from happening, and court battles and people fighting D.C. to get the laws changed so this couldn’t happen ever again? Why was Jeremy writing about some war overseas that nobody cared about anymore, when there was a war happening right here in our own country?
I grabbed handfuls of the soft cloth before my face, the only thing I had to hold on to, and tried to remember how to breathe as the fear and the horror of it all ripped through me again and again. And then, sweeping in on the heels of the fear and horror came anger, so hot and furious that it seemed to boil at my insides.
It had to stop. All of it…the arrests, the internment camps, the drugging, the deaths. Someone had to stop it. Now.
“I know what you're thinking,” I whispered past the tightness in my throat.
“What am I thinking?” he murmured, resting his cheek against the top of my head. He was being so gentle with me, and part of me thought it was wonderful. But another part of me just wanted to punch something.
“You're thinking you should say something to make me feel better. Like 'that baby didn't feel any pain.'“
“Even if it didn't feel any pain, it's still an innocent life wasted.”
His words froze me inside and out. He had seen it too. I’d forgotten that. I wasn’t the only witness to today’s horrors.
But we were only two people. It wasn’t enough. Everyone needed to know about it, and more, to actually care.
I saw again that tiny arm flung wide, turning blue.
What kind of world did we live in, when a baby could die surrounded by people who didn’t care?
I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and let the tears fall…for that baby, and that man shot to death at the camp's gates. For my father stuck inside that compound when he hadn’t even done anything wrong to get arrested in the first place. And for who knew how many others who might have already died in other camps just like that one.
“You're right.” I finally gave in to the urge to wrap my arms around his waist, using his solid strength to hold me up for just a moment. “There's nothing we can do to change what happened today. Nothing.” I didn’t even know why I was crying. What was the point in it? Tears wouldn’t bring that baby back to life, wouldn’t turn back time to save anyone. It was all a waste, just a complete waste.
His arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry, Tarah. I wish we hadn't seen it.”
“What?” Shocked, I leaned back to look up at him. “Don't say that. Don’t ever say that. We’re the only two people on the planet who saw them die and actually care.”
Taking a step back, I wiped my cheeks dry with my hands and took a deep breath to steady myself. I looked around us, seeing for the first time the cars rushing by us on the freeway, going so fast they rocked us a little with each one's passing, their drivers blissfully unaware of the people dying in the internment camp just miles from here. Before today, I had been just like them.
“You really think it's better not to know?" I asked him. "That's why crap like this is happening in the first place. Because no one knows about it. And the ones who do either don't care or are powerless to stop it."
We stared at each other in silence.
“We have to get them out of there.” I didn’t know I was going to say that until the words blurted out of my mouth. But as soon as I said them, I knew they were the truth. It was up to us. “All of them. Not just my dad.”
Hayden’s eyes widened then narrowed. “No way, Tarah. We’ll find a way to get your dad out of there. I’ll talk to my dad. Maybe he can pull some strings and get your dad freed. But as for the rest of them… We’ve got to stay out of that. It’s a federal thing, it’s too big for us to fight on our own. And anyone we try to talk to is going to see us as just a couple of crazy teens—”
“My friends won’t. They’re outcasts too. They don’t know what’s going on in the camps. But once they do… And don’t forget, those soldiers might have guns, but our side’s got a lot more than that. Think fireballs and small earthquakes, Hayden. The outcasts I know have all kinds of special abilities. Not as good as yours probably, but good enough to fight with. They'll help us.”
“Forget it.” He walked around to the front of the truck as if intending to get back in on the driver side.
I ran after him, grabbing his shoulder as he stepped into the headlights, determined to stop him and make him hear me out on this. “How many kids were in that camp? And none of them, adults or kids, had coats on or even blankets. Winter's here. They could freeze to death. And the guards would let them, you know they would. We have to get them out of there!”
“Did you see how many guards were there?” He whirled to face me, throwing one arm out wide, his eyes making these fast little side-to-side movements as they searched mine. “You saw what they did to that man. You want that to happen to you?”
The fear tried to come back. I swallowed hard, forcing it down. “Better that than to be locked up and helpless.”
“Tarah, you don't have to worry about that. I would never let you end up in one of those camps.”
I gritted my teeth. “Of course I wouldn't end up there. They’d stick me in a regular prison maybe, but not an internment camp. Those are just for descendants and outcasts. Once they figure out Dad’s not one of them, either, they’ll probably transfer him out too.”
“What are you talking about? They took everyone they caught today.”
“No they didn’t. They only took the pro-magic side protestors, and those were all Clann outcasts except for Dad. Trust me. I knew everyone there on the pro-magic side.”
He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes intense as they searched mine. “Wait. Are you telling me you are not an outcast or descendant?”
"Of course I'm not."
"Don't lie to me, Tarah. Not me!"
The fact that he thought I could lie to him stung. I swallowed down the hurt. “I’m telling you the truth. Nobody in my family is from the Clann or has any magical abilities.” Not for lack of trying, though. How many training sessions had I sat through, trying like crazy to make something—anything—happen?
Hayden froze for a long second. Then he turned towards the truck and braced a hand against the hood. “Let me get this straight. You don't have any special abilities. Your parents are normal too. And yet you’re constantly trying to defend the C
lann people in class. And now you want to break them all out of an internment camp?” His voice rose steadily with every word he spoke.
“Well, someone has to stand up for them. If not us—”
“Damn it, Tarah! Everyone thinks you’re an outcast!” He whirled around to face me again, his eyes blazing as his voice hit a full pitched yell. “You could be arrested at any time for some of the stuff you’ve said. And now you want to stage a prison break? Don’t you get it? It’s not a game! You shouldn’t be involved at all.”
“Oh I guess I should be at home on the nice, safe couch in my nice, safe world instead. Just like my mother,” I spat out. “Watching while the whole friggin' world goes to crap around us and she tells us all we’re nuts and in need of therapy for even believing in magic in the first place!”
He stared at me, eyes rounded with some emotion I couldn’t read. Anger was definitely still in there, but there were more emotions than that churning inside him now. Shock? Fear?
He took a slow step towards me, then another, closing the distance between us until he could reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The unexpected sweetness of the gesture sent my fury draining right out of me. “You probably are nuts.”
But then one corner of his mouth hitched up, and I knew he was going to do it. He was going to help.
I took a deep breath then let it out. “Yeah, well, you keep tagging along with me. Which makes you just as crazy.”
“And I guess if I don't help you with this prison break idea of yours…”
“I'll do it with my friends. With or without you.” I shrugged. “I have to, Hayden. Not just for my dad, but for all those people in the camp. They’re humans too. I don’t doubt you and your dad could get my dad released. But I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to get everyone else out too.”
He sighed. “Fine. I'll drive. You call your friends. Tell them to meet us in an hour in the woods behind my house, about two hundred yards in.”
I saw what he was thinking. The Shepherds’ backyard was huge, the woods behind them dense and on the outskirts of town but still within the city limits. That made the area off limits to hunters, even the ones who might be tempted by the current deer season to hunt illegally at night. Plus, a highway ran along the west side of the woods, making for a good side entrance and exit. Hopefully if anyone saw people going into or out of the woods, they would think hunters were camping out back there.