War Kids: Books 1 - 3 ( Young Adult Thriller Series Page 24

  Almost at the same time, everyone decides to get off the freeway. The car next to us tries to squeeze into our lane, causing Gérard to slam on the brakes. Then the car behind us starts honking wildly.

  “Just great… let the chaos begin!” Gérard huffs, as he waves his arm at the driver beside him.

  “Did you hear the radio?” Victoria yells out in her high-pitched squeal. We all look at each other, confused. Then we realize she’s talking to someone on the phone.

  “Charles, did you hear me?” she yells louder.

  I think he can hear you clear across town!

  Victoria glares at the cell phone. “What the hell, I have no bars!” She turns around and eyes the rest of us. “Kyra, sweetie, can I borrow your phone to call Dad?” she asks softly.

  “Sorry, Mom, I don’t have any bars either,” Kyra says.

  “Nor me,” I add, frowning. Damn… I hate not having my phone. It’s weird, I never had one in Syria, but now that I have one, I can’t live without it.

  Everyone else in the car starts moving their cell phones around, trying to get reception, grumbling under their breaths.

  Finally, Gérard checks his. “Nope, looks like they’ve turned off service in the area. This is the standard protocol for a terrorist attack.”

  “How do you know so much about this crap? I thought you were a doctor. Since when does a doctor get inside information on a terrorist attack?” Victoria asks.

  I can feel Gérard squirming in his seat, dying to tell her. Zak looks at me, smiling; it’s fun to watch Victoria and Gérard go at it.

  “What’s the plan, Gérard?” I ask, protecting him from anymore of Victoria’s questions.

  Gérard turns to me and smiles warmly. I guess he’s grateful I changed the subject. “We’re sticking to the plan… going to meet everyone in the city.”

  “What? Why are we not going back home? There are criminals on the loose!” Victoria demands.

  “And there is going to be a bomb attack!” Gérard yells back at Victoria, making her jump in her seat.

  I’ve never heard him yell before. He sounds scary.

  “Don’t you yell at me!”

  “Well, don’t you yell at me!”

  “Children, calm down. You’re scaring the kids,” Haytham says, and we all start laughing. Haytham is great at breaking the tension.

  “Haytham! This is not the time for your childish jokes!” Victoria grumbles.

  “Leave the kid alone!” Gérard says. “We are going to continue to drive to the city; if you don’t like it you can get out now!” He looks at Victoria, and then over at the car door pointedly.

  “You would love for me to get attacked by one of these criminals,” Victoria huffs, folding her arms. Doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere. Too bad.

  But, by the looks of things, we aren’t exactly going anywhere either, at least not very quickly. The traffic has come to a halt. People are moving their cars to get off the highway, but instead of getting off, they are blocking the roads! Real smart!

  Gérard slowly nudges the car forward, “Hold on, kids!” With that simple warning, he swings the car to the right and up the grass, banking on the side of the road.

  “What the hell are you doing?! You’re not in a third-world country now! That’s illegal!” Victoria squawks.

  “Whoo… go, Gérard! Off-road time!” Haytham laughs. I turn around and see that he’s taking photos out of the back window. He loves to do that — capture life in America. No matter what is happening, he’s always looking to get the best shot.

  He’s really talented, too. Faith is working with him to get his work in exhibitions. He already has a book of his photographs, and they call it a "coffee table book."

  Some other cars have followed us, using Gérard as their leader. “We are going to have to take the back roads, or we’ll be stuck on the highway when the bomb goes off,” Gérard explains.

  Before anyone can say anything else, the music stops playing on the radio and a voice comes on. Victoria turns it up. “Shhhhh!”

  “Sorry for interrupting your normal schedule; we now have a live report from President Obama.”

  “People of New York, we have been informed that there was a planned attack on Rikers Island. We’ve sent armed forces to help the staff currently on the Island. Unfortunately, I have been informed that some of the prisoners have begun to mix in with the general public and are on Long Island. These are very dangerous criminals; do not approach them. We recommend you stay off the roads and stay inside. Lock your doors and windows. We assure you that we are doing everything to resolve this situation as fast as possible.”

  “To my listeners, I recommend that you listen to President Obama and stay off the roads,” the radio announcer adds.

  “Gérard, do you really think this is it? Is this the terrorist attack?” Victoria asks.

  He sways his head side to side as he thinks. “To be honest, I think it’s a decoy. If they’re sending armed forces to Rikers Island, it means there are less in New York City.”

  The car falls silent as we all listen to their conversation.

  “Do you really think there will be a bomb in New York City?” Victoria says in a softer voice.

  “Yes, Victoria,” he says just as softly. “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter 14

  A Friend's Betrayal.

  ANNABEL

  I can sense there is something wrong, like they know that a murderer is walking alongside them.

  As if Brandon also feels something is wrong, he slows down his pace and plants a big kiss on my lips.

  “Annabel, it will be okay.”

  I shrug my shoulders at his attempt to reassure me, but his arm's weight makes it hard to move.

  “I think there’s something going on,” he continues.

  My eyes widen with fear.

  “No, not about you,” he quickly adds. “About something else… can you not feel it in the air? Everyone is hurrying around.”

  Peeking out from my hood, I can see the people’s feet in front of me scurrying around, more than the normal rush hour chaos. This looks like panic.

  Slowly raising my head, I can see what Brandon is talking about. People are almost running… as if everyone is late. The roads are all blocked with traffic, even more than usual.

  I turn to him. “What’s happened? Have the aliens finally landed?”

  “Who knows? Looks like it.” He grabs a woman as she hurries by. “Excuse me, what's going on?”

  “There’s been a terrorist attack… prisoners have broken out of Rikers Island and are heading to the mainland. Get home kids, get off the streets!” With that, she hurries away.

  “Terrorist attack on a prison… that’s all we need, more crazy people in the city!” Brandon jokes. But this is no laughing matter. Big Red and the rest of WBR were in Rikers Island while awaiting trial.

  “Big Red was there,” I mutter. My heart sinks at the thought of seeing him again. It was one thing when I knew he was locked up and couldn’t get to me. But now if he’s free…

  Brandon squeezes his arm around me. “New York is a big place. He won’t be able to find you, even if he got out. I’m guessing the whole NYPD is there already, and the armed guard.”

  He pauses and looks at me. “And on the bright side… if everyone is over there, then no one will be looking in some old warehouse.” He winks and gives me a smile. I nod back in agreement; he’s right.

  “Where the hell are we going to go?” Brandon asks.

  “I can call my case worker; there’s still one I trust… well, I think I can trust her. We could get some housing sorted out,” I say.

  Brandon falls silent for a moment, as he mulls it over. “Not sure about that idea, but then I don’t have a better one. How much money do you have?”

  “Less than five dollars. How about you? How much did you take from Troy?”

  “Shoot, I forgot all about that!” Brandon pushes his hand into his pants, rummaging around for a moment a
nd pulling out a fistful of dollars.

  He unfolds them and begins to count them – looks like more than I thought.

  “Jesus, Annabel, there’s $450 here… he’s going to be pissed!” Brandon looks over at me.

  “Screw him!” I laugh.

  “Let’s get out of the city and then decide what to do,” Brandon suggests. I like his idea. Baby steps… my brain cannot take any more.

  “Works for me.”

  “Come on then, let’s get the hell out of here.” Brandon wraps his arm around me, and we begin to walk at a faster pace, more like the people around us.

  In the distance, it looks like there is a crowd gathering around the subway. That can only mean one thing – they’ve cancelled the trains.

  Brandon looks down at me, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing I am. “We’re nearly there now.… May as well see what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, it looks like the attack has made them shut the transport system down. So stupid, if you ask me! They tell you to go home, and then shut down the way for you do it. Brilliant!”

  “You should run for mayor.” Brandon laughs. “And sort the system out. I will vote for you.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this?”

  “Well, one of us has to, sad sack!” He chuckles again.

  I give him my best dirty scowl. “There is a lot going through my head at the moment, so give me a little slack,” I grumble.

  He squeezes me tightly. “Okay, just this one time, I’ll let you slide for being a miserable bitch – ouch!”

  “Don’t call me bitch!”

  “Annabel, I was only joking, shit, sorry… bad timing. Just trying to lighten the moment.”

  “I know… I know,” I let out a deep sigh. “It’s not even nine a.m. and it’s already been one long day!” I tilt my head up and he gives me a sweet, quick kiss.

  We’re just a few meters from the subway entrance now, but a crowd of people are blocking it.

  “What’s going on?” Brandon asks a young African American man who looks a few years older than us.

  “They shut the subway down! They’re putting us on buses… what a joke!”

  Great. Just bloody great. Now what?

  Brandon’s arm wraps around me, drawing me close and calming me. Everyone hurries past us, as we take a moment to work out what to do next.

  “Brandon!”

  Is someone calling Brandon’s name?

  “Brandon, you jackass!”

  That voice sounds familiar….

  Suddenly Brandon's whole weight is being pushed into me, and we’re falling to the ground.

  “You stealing money from me! No one steals from me and gets away with it!” Troy yells out. All the people on the street hurry away; no one is going to help us.

  “What’re you talking about, Troy?” Brandon asks, as he lifts me up from the ground.

  God, this is going to turn bad fast!

  “Don’t lie to me, you bastard; I know you took it! Hand it over, and I will go easy on you!” Troy yells out.

  “Maybe someone else took it?” Brandon says with a cocky swagger.

  “None of the junkies have the balls to steal from me! They know I’d kill them! And your mate, Jamie.” Troy points his finger out to me. “She already took a good beating for you!”

  Without thinking, my fist connects with Troy’s jaw and his head swings sideways.

  He quickly reaches out and his palm whacks me across my cheek, and my head flies back. “Ouch!”

  “I like your fire, whore. Now let the men fight and I will sort you out later!” Troy grins at me.

  My cheek is burning, and my mouth fills with saliva. I gather up a good loogie and spit it right in Troy’s face. “Fuck off, you prick!”

  Everything goes black.

  *****

  “ANNABEL, Annabel, wake up, wake up…”

  I can hear Jamie’s voice… and a loud ringing sound… oooh, my head hurts.

  I let out a soft moan.

  “ANNABEL, GET UP!” Jamie shouts, rousing me from my unconscious state.

  I open my eyes to see her standing over me. I’m lying on the ground…. Why am I here?

  Jamie reaches her hand out to help me up. My legs feel weak under the weight of my own body. Troy must have sucker-punched me! The last thing I remember is spitting at him.

  “You stole his money! How could you do that to me?” Jamie yells. She is standing in front of me with blood pouring from her nose and smeared across her face. One of her eyes is swollen and closed up. Her shirt is ripped around the collar.

  I can’t believe Troy could do this. He is such a monster.

  “Jamie, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think.”

  “You didn’t think! You didn’t think! Look at me!” She waves her arms in the air like a crazy woman.

  “I really am sorry. We can give him the money back. Brandon still has it.” I feel guilt in the pit of my stomach. How could I do this to a friend? What type of person am I?

  And where is Brandon? Looking past Jamie, I see Brandon and Troy fighting.

  “Jamie, we have to break them up… they’ll kill each other!” I yell.

  “Haven’t I already done enough for you?”

  A crowd has gathered to watch the two boys fight, and no one is making a move to stop them. They enjoy watching two people beat the life out of each other. Humans can be so evil sometimes.

  They exchange blow after blow. Then Brandon manages to get the upper hand and knocks Troy to the ground. He leaps on top of Troy and begins raining his fists down on Troy’s face.

  Troy is not moving. He is covered in blood, and so swollen, he’s nearly unrecognizable.

  “Brandon… Brandon, get off him! He’s had enough, you’re killing him!” I scream. But Brandon doesn’t react.

  “No!” Jamie screams, as she pushes through the crowd and sees Troy’s battered body lying still on the floor. “Brandon, NO! What have you done to him? Troy… Troy!”

  She pushes Brandon off Troy’s lifeless body. Brandon doesn’t resist.

  “Troy, get up!” Jamie orders as she shakes his body. Troy sits up and spits up blood and coughs.

  Thank God, Brandon didn’t kill him!

  “Brandon, you animal! Get the hell out of here before he wakes up!” Jamie shouts.

  “Please, Jamie… come with us?” I beg, grabbing her shoulders. “Please come with us!”

  “Annabel, he’s all I have. Please, just go and never come back.” Jamie doesn’t even look at me; there is nothing I can do to change her mind.

  “Jamie, I’m so sorry.” Emptiness fills my stomach. I have betrayed her. And now I have lost her as a friend forever.

  Chapter 15

  Let the Rodents Cleanse the Earth.

  ETHAN

  “President Obama confirmed that today’s explosion in New York at Rikers Island Jail was a terrorist attack. It is too early to know which terrorist group is responsible. Rikers Island currently holds 12,000 inmates, and is one of the largest jails in the country,” the female news reporter informs me.

  Perfect. Everything is falling into place.

  Honk, honk. The driver behind me leans on his horn, and I look in my rearview mirror at the man. What a poor excuse for a human being. Everything from his beady eyes to his obvious obesity repulses me. His mouth moves; clearly he’s shouting some offensive comment. But today, I must stay calm.

  “Honk… Honkkkk…” He speeds up his car, making his image clearer in my mirror. I see sweat dripping down from his beetroot-red forehead; his body is unable to function in the heat. His organs are being crushed from overeating all his life; his blood is pumping with the daily toxics of fast food, nicotine, and alcohol. One day, my Uncle Sam, one of these elements will kill you.

  Go on Uncle Sam, fulfill your urge….

  He slows down behind me, just the right amount for me to see his number plate: 037 BBH Texas. God is truly great, as if I need any more signs.

  Texas is the ne
xt state I’m heading to. I’ll leave South Carolina, once the Lord’s work is completed.

  Is this Uncle Sam a gift for me? Father, I accept the gift.

  As predicted, the driver swerves to the side of me. Ethan, stay calm. This is the point I always hate; why do I have to stay calm? Why do I have to wait? Always waiting.

  “Stupid Paki, go back to your own country!”

  Just the sound of his voice turns my stomach; I can feel the acid bubbling up as it prepares to explode from my mouth.

  I AM MOHAMMED, I AM MOHAMMED. Don’t let this man spoil your day, not today! I am not a Paki, I AM FROM AFGHANISTAN. What, Uncle Sam, do we all look the same?!

  I am Mohammed from Afghanistan, fulfilling my Father's work. Filling my lungs as I repeat the same line over in my head, the stomach contractions fade away. As Uncle Sam drives away with his arm hanging out of the window, he holds his middle finger up.

  His stomach will turn the same way mine did, but a lot worse, when I send him to hell.

  “Rikers Island complex has tens jails on it.” The radio news reporter breaks me away from my thoughts about Uncle Sam. I’ll have to plan his execution later.

  “It holds local offenders from the New York area who are awaiting trial, cannot afford bail, or were not given it from the judge…” the reporter states.

  Basically the scum of New York who’ve not yet been found guilty.

  “… prisoners that have been sentenced to one year or less...”

  If they come out alive.

  “… and prisoners who are temporarily being held, pending transfer to another facility.”

  You should have transferred them when you had the chance. You have run out of time now.

  “The only access to the island is from Queens, over Francis Buono Bridge. As stated earlier, this bridge has been taken over by the prisoners; the prison guards lost complete control of the jail.”

  My body tingles with joy… my plan is coming together.

  “The choppers have confirmed that there is no sight of the U.S. armed guard; it is clear that they haven’t made it onto the island, and the prisoners are making their way to the mainland, to New York City.”