War Kids: Books 1 - 3 ( Young Adult Thriller Series Read online

  The bullet rips through my bone and muscle and exits out of my back, shredding my shoulder blade. But I’m still standing, unlike the soldier. He is down and not getting back up. Jada taught me well.

  Unaware of the situation around me, I am focused on Jada... but, luckily, the other innocent children are aware. With adrenaline running through their bodies, they have a chance to save themselves.

  They react faster than the soldiers do. The children run at the soldiers like a pack of crazy wolves ready for a taste of blood.

  The watchers have run off, leaving the soldiers with the crazy children. They are beating the soldiers to death. Jada was right… they made it this far, and they do have special skills — killing people with their bare hands.

  “Jada, Jada, stay with me.” I franticly shake her. She’s ice cold and her lips are turning blue. Her eyes burst open as a surprised look comes over her face.

  “Am I alive?” she blurts out. She looks like she’s in shock.

  “Yes, Jada, you are alive. Please stay awake; I need to get us out of here.” I force myself to hold back all my emotions. I want to scream, “Don’t die on me, don’t you dare die! You are all I have left! ”

  “There is no pain when I close my eyes,” Jada whispers.

  “No, stay awake!” I beg. But she is dying right in front of me.

  I have to get us out of here. There is a truck. I can just see Junayd lifting his father into it, and within seconds there is a cloud of dust... the truck is gone.

  The pack of crazy wolves is beginning to slow down. Bloody bodies lay strewn about like they are on a slaughterhouse floor. There are a few children, but it’s mainly the soldier’s bodies. They were not prepared for the attack. The pain in these children was finally released on the enemy, on the ones who murdered or kidnapped their families and turned their world into a living hell.

  Now there are no soldiers left.

  Realizing that they are all gone, I sit down next to Jada and pick her head up and rest it on my lap. A faint smile appears on her face. I stroke her hair, moving it out of her eyes.

  “I told you we would be okay,” she whispers.

  Bang!

  We both jump at the sound of the loud shot. What the hell was that!? I look over and see a small boy standing in the pile of bodies.

  He’s dripping in blood and holding a gun in his hand, pointing it down at a soldier on the ground.

  The small boy has no emotion on his face. An older boy stands up and takes the gun from him.

  He fires at the next dead soldier on the ground. One after another, the boys and girls get up and shoot a bullet into each and every dead soldier’s body, all with a blank look on their faces, similar to the look the watchers had. They take turns killing the soldiers as if to end their nightmares, to confirm these soldiers will never get up or hurt them, ever again.

  Then, after several moments of loud shooting, the eerie silence is back. There is no one left to kill. No bullets left in the gun. No words left to speak.

  Jada is quiet, but breathing heavily. I hold her closer. Maybe we will die together.

  Blood is pouring from my arm, but I feel no pain from the wound, only in my heart. I rest my head onto hers, closing my eyes, hoping our suffering will come to an end quickly.

  The silence doesn’t last long. Soon we hear the sound of trucks approaching. I have no fight left in me. I close my eyes and submit to my fate.

  “Zak, Zak, get up, get up!” Dani yells.

  “No, I’m staying here. I’m not leaving her on her own,” I mumble to him.

  “They’ll kill you!”

  I roll over and hold Jada tighter. “I’m ready to die. Now run, run fast and get to tent town. Get away from here!” I say to Dani and the other children. Why are they just standing there looking at me?

  “Run, I tell you! Run! Now!” I shout.

  With that, they begin to sprint away from the fast-approaching trucks.

  I close my eyes and press Jada to my body. Her breathing is slow and shallow. If we stay still, will they think we’re dead?

  Eventually, we will be.

  Chapter 46

  Black Shadow.

  ZAK

  “Gérard, I cannot look. I cannot bear to see Jada’s body.”

  Did I hear correctly? That sounded like a woman concerned about Jada. She said her name, but Jada’s mother is dead. Have I died? Are we in heaven? Is my mind is playing tricks on me?

  I’m too afraid to open my eyes. I lie on the ground, frozen with confusion.

  The sound of heavy footsteps approaches me; this is not the sound of a female. I hold my breath. I cannot give us away. I’m not letting them take us!

  “Zak, is that you? Haytham sent us to rescue you and Jada,” the voice says quietly.

  Did I hear right… he knows Haytham? Is this another trap?

  “Zak, Ali is alive. He survived the school shooting,” the voice continues.

  My brother is alive?

  I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are terrified. They are pulling down, fighting the light.

  Finally, I manage to open them, and I all I see is a black silhouette bent over us. The sun is bright and blocking him out.

  There is only his black shadow.

  Chapter 47

  Reborn.

  JADA

  This morning I wake up… reborn

  “She’s awake, she’s awake!” a young girl squeals.

  I know that voice – it’s Waliyah.

  My body is in a deep sleep, but I can hear her. Her excited voice has broken my slumber.

  I can feel Zak’s warmth in my hand, his fingers stroking my palm softly up and down.

  He’s alive… we both are…

  “See, her eyes are moving,” says Waliyah.

  I hear feet moving toward me. I push open my eyelids from the darkness, but this time I’m not terrified. I want to see that the people I love are really still here.

  My eyes flutter open. Instantly, a smile appears on my face.

  “Jada, Jada! I’ve missed you!” Zak whispers. Then he leans over and kisses me affectionately.

  Finally he releases me from his lips. “Don’t leave me again,” he says, smiling as he steps back.

  “Let her get some air,” Haytham laughs. My cheeks immediately turn red as I notice the room is full of people. They’re all here. Sahar is holding a baby!

  “Sahar… congratulations!” I croak out.

  She smiles. “Jada, please meet my new daughter, Jada. I named her after you.” Sahar’s face is radiant with joy. It is infectious, and everyone starts smiling.

  “You named her after me?”

  “Yes. You and Zak will always be part of my family. Thank you for what you did for us.”

  I have to wipe a tear of happiness from my eye.

  “Jada, this is my brother, Ali,” Zak bursts in excitedly. “Haytham found him!” Ali places his arm around Zak’s neck and grins.

  Whoa..! Alive this whole time...?

  “So this is your girlfriend, little bro? It’s nice to finally meet the girl my brother will not stop talking about,” Ali says with a wink.

  Zak wiggles out from his brother’s arm, embarrassed.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ali,” I say.

  Ali smiles at me.

  “Okay, everyone… Jada needs time to rest. Actually, you all do. Time to go.” Faith steps forward proudly. She’s alive!

  Everyone slowly leaves the room. “Zak, that includes you,” Ali says, throwing his arm around his brother.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. He leans in and kisses me one more time, leaving me alone with Faith and a man I don’t know.

  I turn to her and wince. “Faith, I’m sorry for standing on you.”

  “Jada, no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re alive! We all are. I’m not sure if you remember Gérard....” she motions to the tall man beside her, “He was one of the doctors at the hospital. He helped find you.”

  “Thank you fo
r rescuing us,” I say to them.

  “You’re welcome. We will always protect you,” Faith says. She turns to Gérard. “Can you watch over Jada for a minute? I need to go get someone; I'll be right back.”

  With that, she leaves Gérard and me alone. He stares at me in a caring way.

  “Jada, may I show you a picture?”

  “Yeah… sure.”

  He takes a photo from his pocket and slowly passes it to me. It is of my family, from our living room. I feel my eyes well up. Why is he showing me this?

  “Don’t cry, Jada. Is that you? Are they your parents?”

  “Yes, that is me and my family. Why?”

  “Jada, I knew your mother and father. We were friends.” Gérard pushes his lips together, forming a tight smile. “I can’t really talk about it now… I can tell you more when we’re alone. Faith will be back soon, and she doesn’t know.”

  Does he know my family? Why can’t he speak in front of Faith?

  The door opens again and I gasp. A dog is limping next to Faith.

  Oh, my God, it’s Liquorice!

  Chapter 48

  One Month Later.

  JADA

  “Hey, Jada, how was school?” Gérard asks me as he walks into the kitchen. “Have you almost finished your homework?”

  “Good, homework nearly done. Kyra is a good teacher!” I say as I smile at Kyra. She really has been kind to me. She’s taken me under her wing at school. We became friends instantly when Faith introduced us at her welcome-home party put on by Faith’s sister, Victoria.

  Kyra is very much like her aunt Faith, showing me friendship, and they are both always there when I need them... unlike Victoria. From the day I met her, I've been able to tell she resents me. She looks down on me the same way she does her house staff.

  I know she wishes I’d stayed in Syria, but Faith and Gérard had insisted that I return to the U.S. with them. I needed to fulfill my mother’s dying wish.

  “Get out of this country,” my mother had said. She’d told me to follow my heart, and my heart told me these were good people. Gérard, Faith, and Zak stayed by my hospital bed in the camp as I recovered from the gun shots. Haytham told me that they refused to leave until I was awake. They took turns watching over me. One would sleep, and another would get food.

  The TV in the kitchen distracts us. News of Syria.

  “Kyra, can you turn it up, please?” Gérard asks.

  “Sure… I’ll leave you two alone,” she says as she adjusts the volume and leaves the kitchen. Gérard takes a seat in the chair next to me.

  Laura appears on the screen, standing inside a refugee camp.

  “More than 2.1 million Syrians, women and children, make up three-quarters of the refugee population; the vast majority of the refugees are dependent on aid, arriving with little more than the clothes on their backs. Iraq, Jordan, Egypt, Lebanon, and Turkey have opened their borders to help refugees; unfortunately there is an uncertain timetable for when they can return to their homes. It is estimated that, by the end of the year, half the population of Syria will be in need of help. This is Laura Leeming, live from Syria.”

  As quickly as Laura appears on the TV screen, she is gone again. Gérard grabs the remote and turns off the TV.

  “Zak told me about your father training you. When we were at the hospital, he told me everything you went through.” He pauses and looks down. He seems uncomfortable, but I don’t know why.

  “Jada, you know how in the hospital I told you I went to school with your parents?”

  “Yes, I remember, why?”

  “I didn’t tell you what kind of school it was… would you like to know?”

  “Yes,” I quickly reply.

  “Are you sure? You may be surprised.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Now I want to know even more!

  “We were taught to be spies,” he says.

  “Spies? Really?”

  He nods.

  “Wait… you said you went to school with my mother, too. Was she a spy as well?” That doesn’t make sense.

  “Yes, they both were.”

  What on earth?! My parents were spies?! Jesus, what else do I not know about my family?

  “Jada, I can continue teaching you like your father did. Faith doesn’t know anything, and she must not know.”

  What is he saying? He’s going to continue to teach me how to be a killer?

  He locks eyes with me and clenches his jaw.

  “I will help you get your father back.”

  Epilogue

  Zak pulls me toward the locker at the airport. “This is it… this one here,” he says.

  I take the silver key from my pocket and then check to make sure its number is the same as the one on the locker. They are a match.

  Father, I made it.

  I insert the key in the lock and turn it. The door opens.

  Inside the locker is a metal box. I slide it towards myself and pry the lid off.

  Zak leans in for a closer look. There is an envelope with my name on it, written in my father’s handwriting.

  I take out the envelope. There is another one with Gérard Mynatt’s name on it, but this one is written in my mother’s handwriting.

  “My father knows Gérard, and it looks like my mother did as well,” I mumble.

  Zak nods without speaking. Then his eyes bulge as I move a paper aside, revealing a large stack of cash. “Whoa, you’re rich,” he says.

  “Shush,” I say, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is noticing us. No one is. “Quick, help me get it into my backpack.”

  We quickly stuff the money into my bag.

  At the bottom of the tin is my father’s old leather wallet, filled with bank cards. I place it in my pocket. I will inspect it later.

  All that is left are the envelopes – one for me and one for Gérard. I look at Gérard’s for a moment, trying to decide whether to open it or not. I set it in my backpack. Zak lets out an impatient sigh.

  “Are you going to open the other one?” he asks me.

  “Yes.”

  Nervously, I open the letter.

  Dearest Jada,

  My dear child, I know you’ve been through a lot to get here, and your journey has just begun. I have been informed that I will be taken soon. I need your help to find me. I will not ask that you do it alone; you will need to get in touch with the people on this list. The first person you need to find is Gérard Mynatt. He will train you and help you find me. You can trust him. Please tell him I am sorry… that we are both sorry.

  For your safety, your mother and I had to change our names. Your mother’s real name is Mia Andréa, and my name is León Coupe.

  Jada, I ask that you be patient. Take your time to learn everything you can from the people on this list. Blend in and try to be a normal teenager. Have some fun in these hard times, and remember what your mother and I taught you.

  I love you, Jada. I’m thinking of the day when we will be reunited.

  xxx

  I hear my father’s voice in my mind as I read his words. Silently, I fold the letter and place it back in the envelope, and a lone tear drips down my cheek.

  I will find you, Father. Even if I die trying.

  Survive The Day

  War Kids 2

  Chapter 1

  Childhood Revenge.

  ANNABEL

  The skin on his dry hands crunches as he strokes my hair. His bulge pushes against me in his excitement. He trails his revolting finger down my face and across my cheekbone, and presses his lips against my ear. The sound of his breathless anticipation makes my stomach contract.

  His rotten finger moves to my lip, pushing it up and down in rhythm with his gyrations against me. The taste of piss fills my mouth each time he moves his hand, and the smell is overpowering.

  His body is moving faster, pushing harder against mine. The only thing that stays still is the blade he has against my throat. I don't have long.

  “Is this how you treat all
girls on your first date?” My voice is calm, seductive… as if I'm playing along with his game.

  He stops moving and stares at me, confused.

  I turn my head upwards and smile. “My name is Annabel. What's yours?” I say playfully to him. I can feel the tension in his body drop; his grip loosens just a little, but that's all I need!

  Before he can even react, I reach down and grab his hardness while squeezing my nails into his crotch and pushing the blade away from my neck. He flashes his yellow teeth at me as he smiles. Perfect. The dumb animal doesn’t know what’s happening.

  I continue twisting his bulge as hard as I can, and suddenly his face registers the horror. “You little bitch, get off me!” he says, leaning away.

  One more quick twist and he falls to the falls to the ground, wincing in pain. He drops the knife and clutches his wounded manhood.

  Thanks for the tip, mom!

  The knife lies on the ground, catching the reflection from the nearby street lights. Small drops of rain land on it, doing little to wash away the dirt and perversion. I bend over and pick it up.

  Always good to have a knife. Trailing my finger from the blade to the end, I’m drawn to its beauty… its power. Even though my dad is stupid… like, really stupid… he is good at making knives.

  The way he burns elegant patterns into the handle is almost like he’s creating a piece of art. It’s such a funny contradiction to look at something so beautiful when I picture the three hundred-plus pound, crack-head biker who made it.

  “Give that back, you dick tease. That's mine!” the man moans out on the ground. Jesus, I’d almost forgotten he was there.

  “You must be joking. I couldn’t even find your dick, you crazy prick! And it's my knife… you stole it from me!” I yell at him.

  He suddenly staggers to his feet and dives forward, and I quickly move out of the way. Why can’t the scumbag just stay down?!