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

  Removing the plastic cover from the comb, I stare at myself as I brush my brown hair into place, staring into my brown eyes.

  I AM MOHAMMED FROM AFGHANISTAN DOING MY FATHER’S WORK!

  I'm nineteen, but I look older; my forged identification states that I am twenty-four. This was the only way my plan would work. I couldn’t live this lifestyle for another five years.

  Not only do I look older, but I am also more intelligent than anyone I have met in America. But that is not hard — ninety percent of Americans are stupid, a lower race. Ironic, considering they hold so much power over the world.

  That is all going to change.

  I knew from an early age I was different, and I liked it.

  I was smarter than all the men in my father’s army – most of them were farmers or store keepers before they became soldiers. My father was a great man. He was taken from me when I was a child. I watched his car fly in the sky in flames.

  A few years ago, I found one of the government agents who was at the scene of my father’s murder.

  I will find them all.

  I grind my teeth together at the memories. I didn’t cry for him… I never will. That is a sign of weakness. I am not weak! I never show weakness.

  I AM MOHAMMED FROM AFGHANISTAN DOING MY FATHER’S WORK! I chant to myself.

  As I reach for the hat, the bile rises up in my throat. I push it down with a large gulp.

  Staring back at myself, I have the tissue ready for any more blood. I am Mohammed.

  I place the hat on my head, and the transformation is complete. I am Ethan. I am a US airman.

  Please, Father, guide me. Don’t let me fail you.

  Chapter 10

  Surrounded by Rodents.

  ANNABEL

  Where the hell am I?

  I take a quick look around. Oh yeah, Jamie’s apartment… this isn't just a nightmare. I’m here, and I killed a man. Have they found him? Are they looking for me?

  I roll over and see Brandon sleeping beside me. He lets out a snore and a grunt at the same time. Wonder if he’s dreaming about me?

  Annabel, get your head together!

  What the hell am I going to do? Should I just hide out with Brandon, or leave on my own? Maybe he has a plan. I don’t want to drag him into my horrible life, but what can I do?

  I cannot do this to him; slowly I grab my bag and head for the door.

  “Annabel, where are you going?” Brandon mumbles as he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

  “Getting out of here,” I say bluntly.

  “Not without me,” Brandon says as he stands. I feel a huge sense of relief that he wants to come with me.

  We both stand frozen against Jamie’s doorway — bodies are laid out everywhere. They look dead, but I know they are just unconscious from a drug-fueled night.

  Jamie is slumped in the chair with a belt around her arm. She must’ve been taking heroin in her arm last night. She’d been off that stuff for a month! Then Troy was back in the picture for one night, and now she’s going to be hooked again.

  Troy is on the floor between the sofa and chair. He must’ve collapsed after shooting up.

  We both walk over toward Troy; he looks like he’s dead. I wish.

  Something on the table next to me catches my eye. In the midst of the cocaine on the table, there is a wallet: it’s Troy’s. Brandon spots it the same time I do.

  We eye the wad of cash bulging out of the side; I smile over at Brandon, and he grabs it and shoves the money in his pocket. I grab the cigarettes and weed off the table.

  I’m glad to be leaving this rotten apartment.

  *****

  People are on the street, carrying on with their normal day, unaware that they are walking next to a murderer.

  I wonder if I’m on the front cover of the newspaper yet. I pull my hoodie over my head, hiding my face.

  My hands begin to tremble at the thought of being caught, and panic fills my body. I need to get back to Brandon, and I don’t want to be alone.

  “You okay?” Brandon asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Yeah, just surprised to see this many people,” I whisper.

  Brandon reaches for my hood, and I jump back. “Quit messing around; the police might be looking for me!” I snap.

  He places his arm around me instead. “You’ll be okay… let’s get to the train station.”

  Chapter 11

  Leave One War to Enter Another.

  JADA

  “Jada, what's Gérard doing here?” Ali questions me.

  What?

  Looking out of the school bus window, I see Gérard standing by his car, and Liquorice is in the back seat. Gérard looks worried. Does he know I read his letter?

  “Gérard is here?” Zak asks, as we all press our faces against the window. The school bus brakes to a halt, forcing us all against the seats in front of us.

  Grabbing our things, we quickly disembark.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” I say, as I push my way through to the front of the line. I have to know why Gérard is here… he couldn’t know that I found the letter; I put it back in the same place.

  I quickly run over to him. “What are you doing here?”

  “What's going on, Gérard?” Zak asks frantically from behind me. It seems we are automatically programmed for bad news.

  “Kids, get in the car. I will tell you on the way,” Gérard says as he opens the car doors.

  “We can’t, we have class,” Kyra explains. “It's the parade… its prom day… we have to go to school.”

  “Kyra, there isn't going to be a prom,” Gérard explains bluntly, with a blank look on his face.

  The mention of no prom sends Kyra over the edge. She spent months on the planning committee, and it’s all she’s talked about for the last few months.

  “What do you mean?” she cries. Ali places his arm around her to try to keep her calm.

  “Gérard, you need to tell us what's going on… you’re acting like a crazy man,” Ali says.

  “For Chrissakes, do you kids ever do what you’re told?” Gérard snaps. Zak places his hand in mine, sensing that something is wrong. Very wrong.

  “Just tell us what's happening,” I plead.

  Gérard lets out a heavy sigh. I can see how worried he is. “I’ve been informed that there will be a terrorist attack, and they think it’ll be in New York City. We have to get out quickly.”

  “What do you mean a terror attack in New York City? We’re miles away.”

  Kyra is right. How can a terror attack in the city affect us way out here in the Hamptons?

  “It's… a… big attack.” Gérard struggles to get the words out.

  I narrow my eyes and study him. I have the strongest feeling that he’s lying, or he knows more than he’s telling us.

  “So big it will affect us?” Ali questions.

  “Yes, now get in the car!” Gérard snaps.

  “Gérard, where are my mother and sisters?” Haytham’s voice cracks as he speaks.

  “A town car is picking them up and taking them into the city,” Gérard replies. “There isn’t enough room in the car for everyone. We’ll be meeting up with them there.”

  Haytham pushes past me and jumps into the car. “Get in… let’s go!”

  Zak and I look at each other. We nod and climb into the car. Liquorice is bouncing around, excited to see us. Great… I wanted to speak to Zak alone, but now it's going to be impossible.

  Ali and Kyra quickly follow and sit in the back seats.

  Gérard jumps into the front, and I look out the window as we speed away from the school. Will I ever see my classmates again?

  “Gérard… tell us what's happening,” I say as I lean forward. Everyone falls silent for a moment.

  Gérard grips the steering wheel tightly and keeps his eyes on the road. “Christian informed me that he tapped into government intelligence and they are on high alert,” he finally says. “There is a terrorist attack planned for to
day.”

  “But if they know this… why can't they stop it?” I ask.

  “All they know is that there will be an attack, they aren’t sure where in America, but a lot of the information is pointing to New York City.”

  Zak squeezes my hand. We leave one bloody war and enter another!

  “What about everyone else? Why aren’t they leaving?” Kyra asks.

  “Because nobody knows,” Gérard states bluntly.

  “Why haven’t they told everyone?” she asks.

  “Because there’ll be mass panic, all the roads will be blocked, and there is nowhere for them to go. The government is not 100 percent sure where it will happen, and they don’t want to create unnecessary fear.”

  “But you believe them?” I ask Gérard.

  “Yes, I believe there will be a terror attack.”

  “The government is leaving them to die!” Kyra yells out. Startled by her scream, I turn around. Her eyes fill up with tears, and she buries her head into Ali’s shoulder.

  Kyra isn’t used to much stress; she was cracking up over the prom when someone got the wrong color. She’s led a privileged life, and Gérard says she lives in a bubble — never wanting for anything.

  “What about my mom and dad?” she whimpers.

  “I'm not sure what’s worse… an attack, or the fact that I have to pick up Victoria and be in the same car as her for forty minutes!” Gérard mumbles to himself.

  “Gérard!” I snap.

  “Sorry, ugh! Too many kids in the car. Sorry, Kyra, we’re picking up your mom on the way to the city, and Charles is going to meet us there.”

  “What’s the plan, Gérard?” Zak asks.

  “We’re picking up Kyra’s mom, Victoria, at the nail salon, then heading to meet up with Faith and Charles in the city. And then we’re getting the first flight the hell out of here!”

  Leave it to Victoria to be getting her nails done in the middle of a terrorist attack.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Zak says. “Where are we flying to?”

  “Mexico… the only safe country left.”

  Chapter 12

  The Time Has Come.

  ETHAN

  “Your Father is the greatest. He truly blessed you,” Kiana announces, as I walk into the front room.

  I raise my hands to my ears as I prepare to pray.

  Placing my right hand over my left hand, I focus my eyes on my mat.

  I begin to pray.

  Rising to my feet, I lift my hands up to my ears. “Father, guide me today.”

  I feel at peace, as one with him, when I pray. I can’t do it when I’m at the airbase, and I hate it.

  I finish my prayers and go into the kitchen to sit down at the table. Kiana has prepared breakfast – whole wheat toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of milk.

  I eat my food in silence, and Kiana cleans up. I like that she is so tidy. It's best not to leave any trace of ourselves. We have an old television in the other room that we always have turned to the world news channel to keep us up to date with anything which may involve us. Today we know we’ll be on the news… not us, but our cause.

  Kiana steps closer to the television and looks up at me. I nod in approval, and she turns the volume up.

  Even with today’s events, it's important that we stick to our routine.

  The adrenaline is already rushing through me.

  Chapter 13

  Road Trip.

  JADA

  “What is going on, Gérard? Why are you dragging my family into your mess? It’s been a nightmare since the day I met you!” Victoria screams.

  “Nice to see you as well, Victoria. You want to stop off and get some Botox on the way? Looks like you’re due for some fresh injections,” Gérard says, referring to Victoria’s twisted, scowling face.

  “Ha, ha, ha,” Haytham lets out a loud laugh, and we all join in, even Kyra.

  “Do you all think this is a joke?!” Victoria yells.

  “Don’t be a bitch about it; just get in the damn car!” Gérard snaps back.

  Victoria stomps her feet on the ground and folds her arms in anger.

  “Mom, we don’t think it’s a joke; please get in the car,” Kyra begs through the window.

  Victoria freezes for a moment, then waves her arms. “Whatever!” Victoria always talks with her hands. Haytham does a really funny impression of her.

  “Do you know where Charles’s office is?” Victoria asks Gérard, as she slides into the car.

  “Yes.”

  “Good; then you don’t need to speak to me anymore!” Victoria snaps. Then she turns around to face us.

  “Kyra, my dear, are you okay? Do you have your insulin and food?”

  It’s crazy how Victoria can go from being the most evil woman to being a caring mother in the blink of an eye.

  “Yes, Mom. I have everything. I’m fine.”

  “Very good. Your dad has extra in the office.”

  Victoria turns back around and changes the radio channel. I rest my head on Zak’s shoulder and close my eyes, trying to ignore the madness. I want to be alone with my thoughts, so I block out everyone else in the car. It is quiet except for the radio.

  All I can think about is the letter I found last night. Gérard had it hidden so well, it took me a year to find it.

  And I really wish I hadn’t.

  My Dearest Gérard,

  All I can say is, I’m sorry. We both are.

  You have to understand this was never our plan. It just happened.

  One of the agents was working for Abulafia, and he knew about the mission before we did.

  They made Léon and me switch cars with him, and the one you saw blow up was a decoy car to make everyone believe Abulafia was dead, including his own son.

  They tortured us within an inch of our lives. I had to tell Abulafia that Jada was his… it was the only way he would stop the beatings.

  Over time, Abulafia began to trust me, and he moved me into his main house, leaving Léon in the basement or cell of whichever safe house we were in.

  As the months went by, Abulafia also forgot who I really was. All he wanted was the baby to replace the son he left behind. I was free to move around on my own. This is when we escaped.

  For years, Léon and I were on the run. Abulafia sent his people to find us, and Léon got in touch with Christina to remove us from the grid. We became invisible and fell in love.

  If you are reading this, it means they found us.

  Please protect Jada as your own daughter, because she is your daughter.

  I will always love you.

  God bless you and our daughter,

  Mia x

  A new sound fills my ears — the hovering whirl of a helicopter, breaking the questions about the letter swimming around my head.

  The noise is getting closer, and it sounds like several choppers, not just one. Looking out of the window, I see I’m right. I spot three circling above a cloud of smoke.

  “Looks like a crash up ahead,” Gérard mutters. “Great… that’s all we need.”

  I look at Zak and raise my eyebrows. He smiles in secret agreement. We have a running joke about how bad American drivers are. They always drive like crazy people, honking their horns and swerving around other cars like lunatics.

  “Quiet,” Victoria suddenly snaps. “Listen… back there, there’s something on the radio!”

  She reaches over and turns up the volume. A hush falls over the car.

  “Breaking news,” a male voice is saying. “We are receiving reports that there has been an attack on Rikers Island.”

  “What’s Rikers Island?” Zak asks. I’m wondering the same thing.

  “It’s the main jail in New York. Hush, so we can hear the radio!” Victoria says.

  “We’re going live to the eyes in the sky, over to chopper nine,” says the radio announcer.

  “I'm reporting live over the scene at Rikers Island. There are ten separate fires and it looks like these explosions sta
rted inside the correctional facilities,” the reporter explains. “There are prisoners coming out of the buildings…” She pauses and gasps.

  “Oh no, the prisoners have guns,” she continues. “God, no, they are shooting at guards.” Panic fills the reporter’s voice. “The guards are outnumbered; the prisoners are running wild. It looks like a scene out of a movie.”

  The announcer falls silent, perhaps from shock. “Does it look like they’re going to leave the Island?” the radio announcer finally asks.

  The radio falls silent once again, and so does the car. “Chopper nine, can you still hear us?”

  “Yes, we’re still here… I am stunned by what’s happening, what I’m seeing. I am sorry to say, it does look like they are going to attempt to get to the mainland. I recommend that everyone stay off the roads and in their homes.

  “Does the attack look planned?” the radio announcer asks.

  “Unfortunately, the attack does look planned, because of the locations of the explosions. They’re located at the entrances of each of the buildings, and it looks like the fronts of the buildings have been ripped open,” the reporter answers.

  “Thank you for the update; we’ll be back to you shortly…. We’re going to gather more information and get back to you after these songs,” the radio announcer quickly explains. As fast as the news report came on, it’s gone again.

  Victoria turns the radio down as the song begins to play. “Gérard, could that be the terrorist attack?”

  “It could be,” he says calmly.

  Victoria begins to rummage around in her purse. I can sense someone looking at me, so I turn and see a child around my age looking back at me. She’s sitting in the car next to us, with a terrified look on her face. I guess she heard the news report as well. I try to give her a reassuring smile

  Looking out at the other cars next to me, it becomes clear that many people heard the broadcast, and they are all wondering exactly what to do next.