The Trial (The Tree House) (19 page)

People are shaped by the ones they grow up around and the situations they live in. It makes me wonder how different my life would be if I hadn’t been part of the trial. I wouldn’t know my adoptive parents. I wouldn’t know Jack. Oh yeah, I wouldn’t even be alive because some stupid doctor doesn’t know how to clean his instruments properly. Unless they just didn’t have access to sterilization, in which case I didn’t really have a chance from the get go. But what would have been better? Dying as soon as I was born or dying when my chip fails? Anyone would say that a somewhat short life is better than no life but I don’t know that I can agree with them. Not if my life is going to be spent like this.

“I’ll just go then,” Zack finally says bringing me back.

I stop him. “Wait.” I don’t even know the guy but the fact that he’s on my side makes me want him to stay. He looks at me expectantly. “Uh…” I dig into my pocket and pull the map out. “This is only for the floor we’re on.”

Zack turns to head into the hall. “That’s all I was able to draw up,” he says before stepping out and closing my door. Instead of walking away, he turns back around to face me. “I’ll come back tomorrow to check on your head.” I nod, my eyes shooting to the camera up in the corner. Did it pick up anything we were saying? Zack must read my mind because he glances up at it too then looks at me again. “There’s no mic on that thing.” Then he gives me a small nod and walks away.

There’s no mic, huh? So that means whoever is watching didn’t hear my outburst earlier. That almost makes me madder. Though that also means I can talk to Ryan and Anna about the map without worrying about being heard.

They bring Ryan back a little while later. He’s drugged and groggy but at least he’s not coughing up blood anymore. They even changed his shirt so any and all evidence to what happened earlier is gone.

I feel like time is passing even slower as I wait for my two cellmates to wake up. What is there to do in a ten by ten room with only a mattress and a toilet? There aren’t any cracks or tiles to count. Nothing interesting enough to keep me entertained. I’ve gone over Zack’s map a dozen times and closed my eyes, going through the route in my head. This could actually happen. I could actually get out of here. I could see my brother again, maybe even my parents if we ever find them.

I didn’t expect to get that letter from Dad. I had no clue anything was wrong. I guess my parents are just as good at hiding terrible secrets as I am. Jack must feel so alone in all this. I have to get back to him. I’m all he has left. He’s all I have left.

chapter five

I don’t know how long my eyes were closed but when I open them again, my mouth is dry and my body feels heavy. I guess I fell asleep. It’s time to wake up now though. All of us have had enough sleep for a while.

It takes me a minute to get up off the mattress. My head is pounding and my bones are creaking and the mush isn’t settling well in my stomach. Stumbling over to my window, I grip the bars tightly.

“Anna,” I say loudly. “Anna, wake up. We’re getting out of here.”

She groans and Ryan stirs, appearing a few seconds later in his window. “No thanks, Ben,” Anna says quietly causing Ryan and I to glance at each other confused.

“What do you mean
no thanks
? You have to come with us.”

“It’s not safe.”

Ryan growls from his cell. “And this place is?” he asks. “You’ll die a lot sooner here. At least out there you’ve got a fighting chance at surviving.”

“I have no chance either way,” Anna says.

“I’ll take care of you,” I blurt out. A couple seconds later, Anna’s face appears in her window. “I know of a safe place. I’ll take you both there.”

Ryan nods
with a hopeful look on his face. I know I can count on him but what about Anna? She’s biting her lip, debating on what to do. Then she meets my eyes for a second and turns away. I guess she’s given me her answer. Ryan is a bit more enthusiastic about us getting out of here than Anna is. He’s got his face pressed up against the window, his hands gripping the bars, his dark eyes shining. He reminds me of Jack and I feel a rock form in my stomach. I’ve got to get them back to the Tree House. I’ve got to get both of them to go with me.

I try to describe the map as best I can since Ryan can’t physically see it but it doesn’t do him any good. As we’re discussing
, the door at the end of the hall opens and Zack and a couple other guys in gray come in. He must be here to tell me more of the plan. I make eye contact with him but he quickly looks away. Okay, maybe not.

Instead of continuing on to my cell, they stop at Anna’s and Zack slides his key card through the slot. The two other guys go in and come back out pushing her in a wheelchair. Once they’re gone, Zack opens my door and steps inside. As soon as my door shuts, I have his shirt in my fists. “I thought you were on our side,” I snarl shoving him against the door. I see Ryan peering at us curiously from his window.

“It’s called keeping up appearances,” he replies pushing me off of him.

“You’re killing her. I thought you were trying to save us.”

Zack furrows his brow. “We’re trying to save
you
. Just you.”

“Well, I’m not leaving without Anna and Ryan.” Did he say ‘we’? “Are there others here like you and Aly?”

“A few,” he sighs. “And if we try getting all the patients out it’ll be a disaster. So we’re focusing on you.”

“Why me?
And what is Eli waiting for? And why haven’t I been taken out in a wheelchair yet?” Not that I want to be but I’d rather it be me than Anna.

“Calm down with the questions already,” Zack snaps and I quickly shut my mouth. “Why you?” he says. “Because you’re the only one of the twenty five that Allison took off the list that’s been stupid enough to get caught. Why you couldn’t just lay low instead of looking for trouble is beyond me, but we need to get you out of here before they start questioning you about the others.”

I nod. That makes sense, I guess.

“Eli is working on this new thing,” Zack continues running a hand over his sandy blond hair.

“What kind of new thing? Like a new medical chip?”

He shakes his head.
“No, not medical. It’s going to be used more like a weapon. I don’t really know much about it but it sounds like it’s going to be huge once he gets it working.”

“A weapon?”
I ask hearing the surprise in my own voice. “Are we talking police use here? Self-defense?”

Again
, Zack shakes his head then looks out the window. I follow his gaze to Ryan who’s still staring at us. With an annoyed grunt, Zack leans in closer. “Not defense. Offense.”

“Military grade?”

“Special forces actually.”

My mouth falls open before I can catch it. There’s something so much bigger going on here than I thought.
Much bigger than just pharmaceutical research. What other experiments are being tested here? Which ones are they going to test on me?

“They want to turn me into a weapon?
Why me?”

Zack nods. “I guess there’s a certain quality Eli is looking for that he sees in you. That’s why we need to get you out of here. It’s already going to be a big enough risk
without having to worry about others.” His head nods toward the window and I know he’s talking about Anna and Ryan.

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not leaving without the two of them.”

With a frustrated sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another folded up piece of paper. “Did you destroy the last one?” he asks holding it up between two fingers.

I snatch it from him and start unfolding it. “Was I supposed to?”

Instead of answering me, Zack walks over to the bed and pulls the mattress off the frame. The first map comes up with the mattress and flutters toward the ground but he grabs it out of the air before it hits the cement. Without another word, he goes over, tosses it in the metal toilet and rams his thumb against the button. I watch in silence as the paper gets sucked down into the hole, never to be heard from or read again. Then Zack walks past me again and opens the door. “Read that one, memorize it, destroy it,” he says. I just watch in silence as he locks me in and disappears down the hall.

“Thanks,” Ryan finally croaks from his cell.

Letting out a sigh, I shuffle over to the window and rest my forehead against the cold bars. “Don’t worry about it,” I say squeezing the soft paper in my fist. “Besides, you have a sister to get back to.”

With those words, he perks up.
“Hailey? You think she’s alive?”

I nod. “If my brother got to her in time she is.”

“Wouldn’t that be a miracle,” he mutters under his breath.

“I’m sure she’s safe,” I assure him.

“You think so?”

“I really do.” When I say this
, I see something like determination burn in Ryan’s eyes. Even if I’m wrong, I’ve got to keep him thinking positively. If our escape is unsuccessful then it won’t matter if she’s dead. If we do make it out…well… he’ll be alive and free and that’ll be a miracle in itself.

He’s quiet after that. I don’t know if he’s trying to sleep again – now that I think of it, ever since I got here I’ve been tired. They must be putting something in our food – or maybe he’s just sitting and thinking. There’s a lot of time to sit and think here. I haven’t really done much of that though. I’ve spent most of my time sleeping or hurting myself. But now I have another map to study.

Unfolding the paper, I lay it flat on my bed and stand back to look at the whole thing. It’s an entire
ly different layout from the first floor with a small square in the wall circled. That’s our outlet from this floor. On the last map, there was a labeled square in the same spot – some sort of air duct we’re supposed to crawl through.

I wonder how many more of these maps Zack is going to draw out for me. How many more floors are we going to have to go through? How long until we can put this plan into action? I need to get out of here.

I need to find more patients.

Ice forms in my chest and I choke on the shards. I killed so many people. None of them could have been older than me. In fact that first guy reminded me too much of Jack.

* * *

I remember standing out in the hallway of that dingy apartment. I can picture it so vividly in my mind
, it’s like I’m there again.

There was a peeling black sticker on the door with the number “603” on it. I just stood in that hallway in front of the door in that stiff suit as black and heavy as the ice cold
gun in my shaking hand. I could hear the television on the other side of the wall and could just picture my first target sitting there eating some microwaved dinner and dreading going to work the next day. If only he knew what was about to happen. If only he knew he was about to die. Maybe he would savor that last bite of the food he was about to eat. Really taste it, because that was the last thing he was ever going to taste.

My partner, Meyers, stood with his back against the wall next to the door. He was much older than me, as were the rest of them. I’m still not sure why they didn’t kill me
like they did Chris. When they gave me the suit and I put it on, I felt like a little kid trying on my dad’s clothes.

“What are you waiting for?” Meyers asked me as he ran a hand over his dark hair.

I tore my eyes away from the peeling numbers and stared at him. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. My palms were sweating and I felt so sick to my stomach. I’m surprised I didn’t throw up right there in the hallway.

“Go on,” he urged tapping his thumb on his gun threateningly. I knew if I didn’t do what I was supposed to do, he’d kill me. And then he would go after my family.
Or maybe vice versa. I don’t know which would be worse.

I’d been trained hard over the previous couple of months in the art of killing. You’d t
hink it would’ve been cool to learn how to fight and expertly use a gun but I was treated like a prisoner. I barely slept. I barely ate. I just trained and trained and trained and now here I was, finally after my first target. I knew what I was supposed to do. I could go through the whole assassination in my head from start to finish, but I couldn’t bring myself to move from that spot outside the door.

Finally
, Meyers pulled back the hammer of his own gun and rammed it against my temple. I didn’t have a choice. I took a deep breath. Two deep breaths. Three deep breaths.

“Get on with it,” he growled
.

“Alright, alright,” I muttered back shakily.

I took a step back then brought my shiny black shoe up and rammed it hard into the door. It flew open throwing a shower of splinters into the air. My brain couldn’t get my eyes to focus as adrenaline and fear coursed through me so everything was a blur. Our target, Dylan Hayes, was crouched next to his sofa in his boxers, his dinner splattered on the carpet and his shirt.