Countdown

Sarcasm. Yeah, I recognized that.

“I’ve been better, actually.”

Chains rattled. Not mine, so that meant that this guy was also restrained. But why?

“I’m Rogan,” he said after a moment. “So pleased to meet you.”

“Where are we?”

“I tell you my name and you don’t reciprocate? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“My mother’s dead.”

That shut him up. Momentarily. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

Very true. Two years. Felt like forever—yet, at the same time, it felt like only yesterday. “My name’s Kira.”

“Well, Kira, where we are is anyone’s guess.”

I pressed back against the hard wall.

We could be anywhere, and there wasn’t a damn thing to give me a clue where that was. Except for the main drags, the city was so vacant that we could be in any one of dozens of abandoned warehouses or factories. And nobody would ever find us.

I’d heard about kids who’d vanished from the streets never to be seen again. I was sure they weren’t stories with happy endings.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked. “Who brought you here? Are you chained, too?”

“I don’t know who brought me here. And, yeah, I’m locked up real tight.”

“Who would do this?” My voice caught on the words.

“Try to relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”

I banged the back of my head lightly against the metal wall and hugged my knees in close to my chest. “You sound relaxed enough for the both of us.”

“What can I say? So far this is a lot better than where I was scheduled to go in a few days.”

“Oh? And where’s that?”

He was silent for a moment. “You really want to know?”

Not really. I didn’t care. “Sure.”

There was another lengthy pause. “Saradone.”

My blood ran cold. Saradone was the maximum security prison just outside the city limits. Only the worst criminals were sent there; some for life, most for death. Horrible people who’d done horrible things. Luckily, they didn’t put girls who stole shoes there...yet.

He laughed at my answering silence. “Guess you’ve heard of it.”

I was in the same room with somebody bound for Saradone—so that meant he was dangerous. Criminally dangerous. Panic returned to swirl through me, constricting my chest, my breath.

Both of us were chained. What was this? What was going on?

A cold trickle of sweat slid down my back.

“Why were you going there?” I tried to make the question sound flippant, as if I was making conversation about the weather.

“My days at St. Augustine’s end in a couple days when I turn eighteen.”

St. Augustine’s. That name I also knew. It was a juvenile detention hall located on the west side of the city. If I ever got arrested, that might be where I ended up.

I’d heard that it was hell.

I hesitated to ask, but couldn’t help myself. “What were you at St. Augustine’s for?”

“Murder,” he answered simply.

“Oh.” My stomach churned as I tested the chains again. They were too strong. I wasn’t going anywhere. “Was it self-defense?”

“No.” There was a sharp edge to his voice now. “But what do you care?”

“I don’t.”

But I did. Of course, I did. I cared because I was trapped in this room with an admitted murderer—stuck in the dark with him, just as I’d been when my family was murdered.

Maybe I was just having a really bad dream. Maybe I’d fallen and hit my head in the mall and was passed out cold in front of the understaffed burger place in the food court. Maybe some gorgeous rich kid would find me. He’d fall instantly in love with me, kiss me like Prince Charming did with Snow White, wake me from my deep sleep, and we’d ride away into the sunset, away from my past and into a bright, exciting future, just the two of us.

I blinked against the darkness.

No, I was awake. Definitely awake.

Too bad.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Rogan said. “Don’t want to talk anymore?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not? Because you’re scared of me now?”

Pretty much, but I wasn’t going to let him know that if I could help it.