Dr. Swift’s gunman shot them down, and then what? Buried their bodies out here somewhere they’d never be found?
“So many exciting applications,” the doctor was saying. “These people, these survivors, later trained in weaponry of all kinds, will have proven their worth, their will to fight, again and again and again, under the most arduous of circumstances. Circumstances that would take down the strongest of men. And women. They’re already being used by wealthy men, and governments all over the world. Elite security. The guarding of assets. Even assassins when it’s for the greater good.” He smiled like a proud father. “They’re soldiers—the best of the very best. Observed since birth. Revered. Their lives, their skill sets, their proven grit of great intrinsic value.”
“And the ones who don’t survive your . . . training?” Jak asked, his heart constricting as he remembered the faces of the other two boys as they’d looked on the cliff that night. The face of the boy he’d killed.
He shrugged. “Even if they die, they’ll die heroes. A better fate than what would have been. We’re trading one program for another, yes. But ours actually makes a difference.” For the first time since Jak had arrived, he saw anger in Dr. Swift’s face. He took a deep breath, seeming to get hold of himself. “If even a portion of these unwanted children enter our program, think of how the crime rates will lower. Think of the benefits to society. Just think of it.”
“These are people,” Harper said, her voice still shaking. “What makes you think they won’t expose you?”
“Unfortunately, that’s what all this is about.” He waved his hand to the two of them, nodded to the gun Daire held. “As for the others, the ones who accept who they’re meant to be, the ones who complete our camps and then the debriefing, they will go on to live exciting careers and be heroes, when otherwise they’d be losers and castoffs. The very dregs of humanity.” He paused for a moment. “We’ll establish even more training camps, fill them to capacity. Instead of putting these children into social services, they’ll enter our programs. They’ll come in as victims and exit victors. The entire country will benefit, society will benefit, these children will benefit. Eventually the world will benefit.”
The people buying the adult children will benefit, Jak thought as the full understanding of what his life had been for swept over him in one sickening wave of red. All of it, every moment, had all been for this.
And if he didn’t figure out a way to get Harper and him out of there, if he didn’t figure out a way to live, then hundreds of other kids would go through the same suffering as he did, would be watched like he was, used, murdered, or left to die.
He listened to the thundering waterfalls behind him, fearing the only way out was down. Again.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Hello, Harper?” Laurie pushed the door open, the door that had already been slightly ajar when she’d arrived at Harper’s apartment. She entered slowly, tentatively, worry skating down her spine. “Harper?” she called again. “It’s Laurie Gallagher.”
The little studio apartment was neat and tidy, the bed made, shoes lined up by the door. Despite the concern Laurie felt at finding the door open and no one home, she smiled at the obvious effort Harper had put into making her small apartment a home. It was sweet and lovely, understated, just like the girl Laurie had felt such an immediate connection to.
She entered the tiny kitchen, putting the bag of groceries on the counter along with the homemade banana bread. Who has time to shop, or to cook, she’d thought, when they were dealing with something as life-altering as Jak was. And, as an extension, Harper too. She knew Harper loved him, and that his struggles would be hers. Jak would be at the station for a couple of hours, so she’d picked up a few things at the grocery store for them and come over to drop it off. When she’d heard about the mine shaft, about the unthinkable things found there . . . she’d needed to do something. Mostly, she wanted them to know they weren’t alone.
She unpacked the bag, her concern increasing when she didn’t hear Harper coming in, having just popped over to a neighbor’s maybe? Left somewhere close and hadn’t bothered to make sure her door was properly locked? “You’re being a busybody, Laurie,” she admonished herself. Maybe