War Kids: Books 1 - 3 ( Young Adult Thriller Series Page 20

  “What?”

  Gérard hesitates. “It’s just, this list brings back a lot of memories.” He glances down, and I know he is lying to me.

  “Looks like Léon has added other people with knife skills, martial arts skills, and intelligence abilities,” he says. “I guess it’s in case I cannot locate the core group, or in case they’re dead.”

  Sounds like a fun list!

  “When can we meet them?” I quickly ask.

  “Let me find them first.”

  “Do you think they can help me find my father?”

  “I hope so, Jada.”

  Chapter 3

  Invisible Girl.

  ANNABEL

  I need to become invisible; it’s easier than I thought it would be when I moved here, but it’s different now. I’m a murderer on the run!

  Jesus, Annabel, get it together. Keep walking!

  I just have to get to the Carroll Street subway. It’s surprising how many people are on the street at night, which is good — I can blend in with them. My hoodie is up, and I make myself invisible. Normally I hate people; I’m a bit of a loner, really, but tonight I’m glad they’re here.

  A long, plaintive scream plunges into the depths of my soul. It’s a cop siren.

  My mouth goes dry, and as I turn to face a store window, my heart is racing. Jesus, I’ve done everything I can to stay out of juvie, and now I’ll end up getting life for murder! My knees feel like they’re going to buckle at the thought of going there. I got out of one nightmare alive, only to enter another!

  “Weeeonnggweeeonngg!” The police car flies past me without slowing down, and I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God! I pause to catch my breath.

  After a moment, I continue to move down the street. Soon I see the green subway lights, and my spirits soar. Adjusting my hoodie, I make sure my face is covered with the scarf beneath. I cannot let anyone notice me.

  I need to call Jamie and tell her I’m coming. She'd better answer; I have nowhere else to go!

  I met Jamie about six months ago, when I first moved to the city. She’s a few inches taller than I am; I’m guessing five-feet-five, with bleached-blonde hair. Most of the time she dresses like a young girl, I guess to help her get more customers.

  She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hi, what’s up?”

  “H-hi Jamie, um… mind if I crash at your place tonight?” I hate having to ask, but I need people around me; people who have no sense of time and can be my alibi.

  Jamie has been living on the streets since she was fourteen. She’d run away from her abusive father. She told me that, within days of her escaping to the streets, she was taken advantage of by Troy, an acne-faced drug dealer.

  Troy showed Jamie how to shoot-up and supplied her with free drugs, saying she could pay him back later. His aim was to get her hooked on heroin, and it worked. After using for a few weeks, Jamie was addicted and dependent on the drug dealer.

  It’s crazy when I hear her speak about him; she’s still under his spell, even after three years.

  “He rescued me from the monsters on the street. He protected me from drug dealers and rapists,” she’d tell me each time I saw her covered in bruises after he’d beaten her. And when she spoke, she sounded like the scared fourteen-year-old who first arrived in NYC.

  Jamie’s friend Donna told me that once Troy had Jamie hooked, he had complete control over her. When Jamie was doped up, she did whatever he wanted. Once he was bored of having sex with her, he told her she had to pay him back the money and work for him as a prostitute or he would cut her throat.

  Jamie had no choice but to sell her body at fourteen. Other homeless people saw what was happening and grouped together to try to get her out of her nightmare. They ended up getting her into a local shelter, where I’m now headed.

  “Sure, Annabel. Call me when you’re at the gate.”

  “Thanks. See you in thirty.”

  Crap, do I have any credit on my metro card? Fishing around in my pocket, I already know I don’t have the $2.75 for a single-ride ticket. This morning I managed to beg five dollars off morning commuters, and it was a nightmare!

  Since the world got all fucked up with terrorist attacks, the government has been sending the troops all around the globe to fight in different wars. One thing about living on the streets — I’m always up on the news; there are newspapers everywhere!

  It seems like every week there is a new confrontation; it’s as if the world has gone crazy. There cannot be any troops left in the USA. People started to panic about six months ago when Iran began to threaten President Obama. It was headline news – “We are on the brink of WWIII.”

  That’s when people started to become crazy, panic-buying in the supermarkets and looting. Since then it’s been a nightmare to get any money. This morning I told people I left my purse at home… less embarrassing than saying I was starving.

  I used two dollars for a couple of sausage McMuffins and then a chocolate bar for lunch. I was right; unfortunately I have less than two dollars left. McDonald’s is one of the few food places that hasn’t jacked the prices up. Nothing better than the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer.

  People are walking down the subway steps and I join them, trying to blend in as best as possible.

  Please, God let there be some money on the metro card, I silently plead. I’m too tired to carry on walking. I hold my breath as I scan my card. The green arrow appears. Phew, it worked. I move quickly. I need to be invisible.

  The putrid smell of piss enters my lungs, sending a shudder up my spine as I stand on the platform waiting for the train. It reminds me of the tramp I just killed. I hate being down here. I’m just glad there are other, normal-looking people here as well. Not just the crazy, high, homeless people.

  The sound of clatter fills the tunnel, and even though there are only a few people on the platform, they all hurry for the train, terrified they will miss it. I hide myself amongst the herd of bodies as it surges forward.

  One thing I like about the subway is that it moves pretty fast. We fly by Bergen Street station in no time. A few people board, speaking loudly to each other as if they are drunk. I stick to the subway rules — head down and don’t make any eye contact.

  As I stare down at the ground, I spot an old newspaper. I can’t help but wonder if, tomorrow, there will be something about me in it.

  Within a few minutes, the train pulls into Jay Street station. My stop.

  Chapter 4

  No Secrets.

  JADA

  “What did Christian say?” Zak asks, as soon as I get into his room. I met Christian over ten months ago. He is one of the people on my father’s list, and Gérard hates him.

  Zak and Ali share an apartment in our basement. I wanted to share an apartment with Zak, but Gérard and Faith would have none of it.

  Faith, Gérard, Liquorice, and I live on the main floor in the apartment. Haytham and his family live on the top one.

  Haytham and I hang out at his apartment all the time. We may as well live there. But at 10:00 p.m. Faith calls me. Sleepovers are not allowed! Tonight she’s at work, and Gérard is asleep on the sofa.

  “All you want me for is my information!” I joke to Zak. I've managed to keep my conversation with Gérard, about the letter, a secret for about five minutes. Zak knows instantly that I’m dying to tell him and he’s right....

  He dives in and gives me a quick kiss.

  “Boy, who said romance was dead?” I add, laughing.

  “Stop messing about. What did he say?” Zak asks impatiently.

  “Come on, Jada, tell me what happened. Don’t make me tickle it out of you!” Zak puts his hands out in front of me, ready to attack.

  “Okay, okay… no tickling!” I laugh. I’m excited to tell Zak what we found out.

  “Christian has found a new prison about 50 miles away from Damascus, in the lost city in the desert. He thinks maybe that’s where they’re holding the kidnapped prisoners. Our father
s could be there!”

  I’d heard about the city at school back in Syria; they didn’t know much about it, because the war prevented archaeologists from inspecting it. They said it was built 6,000 to 10,000 years ago. It’s older than the pyramids, which is crazy!

  “What the hell? Really? They found them?” Zak leaps up for joy. “When are we going?”

  I shake my head. “They’re not sure yet. At this point, it’s only a maybe.” God, this was meant to be good news, but now I’m having to deliver bad news.

  “I know, I know… I’m getting ahead of myself again,” Zak admits. Over the last few months, we’ve had a lot of disappointments. Several times Christian and Gérard had thought they’d located our fathers, but each time ended up with nothing.

  “Gérard and Christian really think they’re being held there,” I say, reassuringly. “They’re just trying to work out the next steps.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Zak says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

  “I knew you’d say that.” I want him to come with me; I just need to work out how to tell Gérard that Zak has known about everything all this time. And if Zak goes, Ali will want to come as well, and then Haytham will want to know what’s happening. Oh, Lord!

  “Did they give you an idea of when we’ll be going?” he asks.

  “Nope. I think it will be soon, though, because we don’t want to risk their being moved.” Zak nods.

  “Christian has located Capitan Reef and Ash Heen Dara; they’re currently on base in Douma, which is about 10 kilometers northeast of Damascus.” Just saying their names fills me with guilt. I can never forgive myself for the death of Tilly.

  “Damn, I was hoping they’d be dead by now!” Zak spits out.

  “Me too… sorry.” I give him a reassuring pat on the leg. “Christian told me that the rebels have been moving around a lot, trying to hide their location from the American government.”

  “Does the plan include tracking them down and killing them?” Zak asks.

  “I don’t know the plan, yet. Once I do, I’ll tell you… promise.”

  “I thought you’d know more by now,” he says, tensely.

  “Jesus, Zak, you know all I want is to see my father too. Don’t make me feel bad for something I can’t control.”

  Zak lifts my chin. “Sorry… I just miss my father as well. I know we all do.”

  Chapter 5

  Homeless House.

  ANNABEL

  “Hi, girlfriend... God, you look worn out! Where’ve you been at this time of night?”

  Great. I can tell by the way Jamie is speed-talking that she’s high on cocaine.

  “No beds at the center… mind if I crash here?” I ask. She doesn’t need to know the details, and I doubt she’ll push it.

  “Sure, no problem. The gang’s here, anyway. We were going to call you.”

  The whole gang, really? Great. I’m not in a chatty mood. I just hope they’re all high and let me chill out.

  At least there will be more people for my alibi, but are any cops really going to believe a group of strung-out teenagers? I should’ve thought of that before I came here. But I have no one else.

  “Hey, Dave… looking screwable as always,” Jamie says, as she flirts with the guard at the front door. Jamie’s home looks like a prison, with a metal fence all the way around it.

  “This is my little sis, Annabel,” she adds, motioning to me.

  The guard raises his eyebrow. “Cut the crap, Jamie! No more guests tonight, you understand?”

  “Noted.” Jamie blows Dave a kiss, grabs my hand, and skips us toward the elevator.

  I’ve never been inside Jamie’s apartment building; it looks like an old mental hospital from a scary movie. It’s a stone building with hundreds of windows, and it feels like everyone is watching me. I don’t like it, not one bit.

  “Don’t come in the elevator on your own,” Jamie warns.

  “What… why not?”

  “’Cause someone will get in here with you and rape you. Sixth floor, please.”

  Jesus, what kind of place is this? She said that sentence like she was ordering a sandwich from Subway, with no emotions, almost soulless.

  “Okay,” I mumble.

  “It’s an absolute nightmare climbing six flights of stairs.” She glances at me. “Jesus, Annabel, you look white as a ghost. You okay?”

  No, I don’t feel okay… I just murdered someone, I haven’t eaten in days, I’m nervous about who’s going to be in her apartment…

  “Yeah, just a little hungry,” I tell her. “You know how it is.” We’re always hungry, except for the obese homeless people; I never understand how they can stay fat.

  “I’ve got a few snacks you can have. But really, Annabel, with all the time you get to sit in the sun, you should have a tan by now.” She nudges me in the side.

  She’s right; I should have a bit of color now instead of looking like a Goth. I hate this look, but I know it scares people away from me. It gives off a moody don’t mess with me vibe. It works for me.

  Ping! The elevator comes to a sudden halt. “Oh, I forgot to say Troy is here.”

  Jamie skips past me like a giddy little school girl. Ugh! I hate that prick, and he hates me!

  One of Jamie’s friends told me that a group of people got together to help get Jamie off the streets. And then Jamie ended up letting different people crash here. God only knows what the place will look like.

  “Come on, slow poke,” she teases. “Oh, one more surprise… Brandon is here. Ha ha!”

  Finally, some good news. Brandon isn’t like the rest of the street kids. He’s street smart and brain smart – not a common mix around here. It also helps that he’s quite good-looking, with his broad shoulders, strong body, and dreamy, dark-brown eyes I just want to get lost in.

  His stepdad threw him out after he married Brandon's mom… one of the common stories around here. Mom hooks up with a new guy and throws the kid out. So terrible, if you ask me. I’m not having any kids. No way!

  “Still dreaming about your boy toy,” Jamie laughs at me.

  “You could’ve told me Troy was here!” I snap in defense.

  “Ha, you know I like to keep it fun!”

  I just roll my eyes.

  “Ahh, home sweet home,” Jamie says, opening the door. “Guys, look who’s graced us with her presence.”

  Why does she have to act like a prick all the time? I really need to get some new friends… well, it's not like these people are really my friends; they're more a group of loser nobodies hanging out together.

  “Hey, look who’s here!” Jamie yells louder. The room falls quiet except for the sound of the stereo – Rihanna’s “Monster” song.

  Perfect.

  “Hey, why didn’t you say so?” Troy yells. He opens up his arm and sticks out his tongue and waggles it around. “Come here, Annabel baby, and give me a hug.”

  “You’re too funny. You know you’re not getting a hug from me!” I have to fight to maintain my composure. I need a place to stay!

  Troy squints his bloodshot eyes, and Jamie runs into his open arms. He laughs at me. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he says.

  “Come on, Annabel, why don’t you join us? It’ll be fun,” Jamie coos.

  Pass.

  Turning on my heels, I know I need to get out of this place, pronto. What are they doing, having a drug-fueled orgy?

  “Annabel, come back. Troy is only joking!” Jamie calls out.

  “No, I’m not!” Troy hollers. God, I hate him.

  “Troy, tell her you’re joking. Please… for me?” I hear Jamie beg.

  “I’m sorry, Annabel; please come back, pretty please,” Troy yells at me.

  No way. Where the hell are the steps?

  “Troy, why do you have to be a prick all the time?” I can just make out Brandon’s voice as I find the door to the stairs, followed by, “Annabel, wait up!”

  I turn to see him hurrying my way,
and my heart flutters. I’m too tired for six flights of stairs, anyway. And then where would I go? Sleep outside?

  I stop and sit on the top step, burying my head in my hands, trying to keep it together. I feel like my insides want to crumble, and burning pain fills my heart. I actually killed someone. Yeah, he was a dirty pervert who was trying to rape me… but I killed him. I killed a person. As I lower my head to my knees, tears flow down my face. I cannot believe I’m a murderer.

  Brandon sits down next to me. Oh, great. What am I going to say?

  “Hey, don’t let Troy get to you,” he says. “You know he’s a jerk.”

  “Jesus, I’m not crying over that prick!”

  “Sorry, hey, don’t get pissed at me!” Brandon leans away from me with bulging eyes. Great. Now I’ve angered him too! I hug my knees more tightly to my chest.

  “Annabel, what has happened?” Brandon asks a moment later, his voice calmer. He places his arm around my shoulders. God, he’s warm. It takes me by surprise, and my body jolts.

  “Jesus, Annabel, you’re freezing.”

  I hadn’t realized I was cold, but now I can feel my body shaking. Brandon takes off his hoodie and places it over my shoulders to warm me up, and then puts his arm around me. It feels nice to have someone who cares.

  I bet he’ll feel differently once he finds out what I have done.

  “Annabel, if it’s not Troy, then what happened? Has someone hurt you?” Brandon places his hand under my chin and looks me in the eyes.

  “Someone tried to.”

  I cannot believe I said that.

  “What, someone tried to hurt you? You okay?”

  I lower my head in shame. I cannot think straight… what can I say?

  “Jesus, Annabel, answer me!”

  My mouth begins to speak uncontrollably, spilling out all my dark secrets. “He didn’t get a chance to hurt me; I stabbed him right through the heart. Brandon, are you hearing what I’m saying? I killed him! I killed a man. I’ve turned into them, the people I hate the most. I’m one of them. A true member of WBR! I’m no better than Big Red.” Tears spill down my face, dripping off my chin and onto Brandon’s hand.