The Rescue (2 page)

‘Most importantly, it’s safe. No one here knows who you are so you’ll be able to lie low while we make sure your identities are still secret from Damian Foster and Blake Carson and all the other criminals who’d give their eye teeth to get their hands on you.’

I gritted my teeth. The worst part of us being sent here was that, in the outside world, everyone apart from our parents thought we were dead. Geri had gone to extreme lengths over this. She’d exploded a bomb in our school, then changed all our records to say we’d died in the blast. She insisted this was necessary for our own protection but it made me angry – if Geri hadn’t forced us to become the Medusa Project, we wouldn’t
need
protecting.

Anyway, we were under strict instructions to keep our skills under wraps while we were at the camp.
That
, I didn’t have a problem with. I hate being able to mind-read. It’s an invasion of privacy. It’s
wrong
.

The jeep juddered over rough paving stone and came to a halt. I opened my eyes. We’d arrived. The man who’d been standing by the door was now advancing towards us, a big smile on his face. He looked very Spanish – dark hair and eyes and the same olive skin as Nico. He pulled open Geri’s door and extended a hand to help her out. The hot air surged into the car like somebody had trained a hairdryer on us.

‘Welcome to Camp Felicidad. You must be Ms Paterson.’

I stared at him. Apart from a slight nasal twang in his voice, the man sounded English.

‘Welcome.’ The man glanced round at the four of us. I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting to make eye contact and be forced to dive into his mind.

‘Do any of you young people speak Spanish?’ the man said.

‘Ed does,’ Geri said, indicating me. ‘And Dylan here’s good at it too.’

Senor Fernandez looked at us expectantly.

‘Hola,’ Dylan said, sulkily.

‘Como se llama usted?’ I asked, trying to sound polite.

‘You may call me Senor Fernandez,’ the man replied. ‘I hope your stay here will be fruitful. Now, I’m sure you’re eager to get your bearings.’ He stood back to make way for Geri and pointed towards the house. ‘Beautiful ladies first.’

Geri smiled – one of those knowing smiles that basically mean the person knows they’re being flattered but likes it anyway.

We followed them into the house. It was still steamily hot outside, despite the fact that the sun was so low in the sky. The contrast inside the house was startling. So cool I almost shivered. The thick stone walls clearly blocked out much of the heat. A fan blasted away in the corner. I blinked, taking in the stone flags on the floor, the reception desk in the corner and the long trestle table down the middle of the room.

‘Looks like a hostel,’ Ketty whispered in my ear. ‘I thought it would be worse from what Dylan said about brat camps.’

‘This is where we eat.’ Senor Fernandez indicated the table with a sweep of his hand. ‘Our other young people are busy with evening chores. You’ll meet them a little later.’ He turned to Geri. ‘Is it to your satisfaction so far, Ms Paterson?’

Geri gave him a brisk nod. ‘It seems suitably basic,’ she said. ‘Though to be honest, dear, I don’t care what it looks like, so long as these kids learn some discipline while they’re here.’

Ketty and Nico exchanged exasperated glances behind Geri’s back.

‘Of course.’ Senor Fernandez gave a little bow. He led us down a corridor to the girls’ quarters – a six-bed dorm, much bleaker than the one back at Fox Academy. The walls were plain white – no posters or pictures. Each bed was covered with a pale blue quilt and stood next to a small locker. The tops of the lockers were completely clear.

Geri nodded, approvingly.

‘Clean and simple,’ Fernandez said.

‘. . . like a cell,’ Nico muttered.

Senor Fernandez flashed a fierce look at him. ‘Rule number one,’ he snapped. ‘Young people must ask for permission to speak.’ His face relaxed. ‘However, an adjustment period for new young people is only fair, so no demerits tonight.’

‘De-what?’ Nico said.

Senor Fernandez shook his head and made a clicking sound at the back of his throat. He turned his attention back to Geri. ‘The boys’ room is identical, just in a different part of the building. Would you like to see that now?’ he asked.

Geri hesitated, checking her watch. ‘I really don’t have time,’ she said.

‘Absolutely fine, of course, you need to get going.’ Fernandez gestured back to the main lobby. ‘Let me see you out.’

We left Dylan and Ketty in their room and followed Fernandez back down the corridor.

As we reached the lobby, Geri turned to me and Nico.

‘Please use this as an opportunity to learn some discipline,
’
she said, with heavy emphasis. ‘I’ll call in to the camp phone one week from tonight to see how you’re getting on.’

I nodded. Nico just stared sullenly at the floor.

‘Right, well, goodbye then.’ She took a step towards the front door.

‘Let me see you to your car, Ms Paterson,’ Fernandez said. He turned to Nico and me. ‘You boys wait here.
Don’t move
.’

Geri and Fernandez left. I sighed and looked round the room. The trestle table had been scrubbed so hard that the wood in the middle was almost white. The dresser behind was stacked with plates and glasses. There was no mess . . . nothing that made it feel homely at all.

‘Ed.’

I spun round. Nico was standing beside the door on the far side of the room, beyond the long table. He opened it softly and peered round. ‘Come on,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s a corridor down here, with a door and a window.’

‘
Nico
, for goodness sake.’ My heart thudded. ‘That man told us to stay here.’

‘Lighten up, man.’ Nico made a face. ‘I’m just gonna take a quick look. I’ll be back before Senor Fussypants knows we were gone
.’
He disappeared through the door.

Muttering angrily to myself, I crossed the room towards him. It was all very well Nico saying he would was only taking a ‘quick look’. If Fernandez came back and found him gone, I could just imagine how much trouble we would
both
be in.

I reached the door and peered round it. Nico was standing in a gloomy corridor, staring out of a window onto an empty, shaded courtyard.

‘Come back,’ I hissed.

Nico shook his head. ‘We’ve got a second.’ He frowned, still staring out at the courtyard. ‘Where d’you think everyone is?’ he whispered.

‘Working, remember?’ I said.

‘Oh yeah. “The
young people
are doing their chores”,’ Nico said, in a fair imitation of Fernandez’ voice. ‘Don’t you hate being called that . . . young people? It’s so patronising.’

‘Nico, will you—’

‘Jesus, man,
look
!’ Nico held up his hand to silence me. ‘
Look
,’ he repeated, pointing through the window. A line of five or six kids – some about our age, others younger – were crossing the bleak stone courtyard after a thickset man with a snake tattoo down one arm.

The kids were dressed shabbily, though they looked clean. But there was something defeated about the way they were walking that sent a chill down my spine.

As we watched, one of the younger kids said something, and the man with the tattoo hit him across the head. The boy stumbled sideways, then carried on walking. My mouth fell open. I moved closer to the window.

Nico sucked in his breath. ‘That doesn’t look like the
young people
doing their chores, does it?’

I shook my head, frowning.

We watched for a moment longer. As they reached the edge of the toilets in the centre of the courtyard, Tattoo Man struck another member of the group, a skinny girl with long dark hair. The girl fell to the ground. The man pointed to her trailing shoe lace and the girl knelt, meekly, to tie it.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Nico breathed. ‘What the hell
is
this place?’

I glanced back into the camp lobby. The front door was still firmly shut. I caught the echo of Geri’s high tinkly laugh in the distance. She and Fernandez must still be talking.

I took a deep breath and joined Nico by the window. From here I could see the whole courtyard. It was paved with large stone slabs and flanked on one side by what looked like a barn and on the other by a white building similar in style to the main house. Apart from the toilets in the centre, the courtyard was empty.

As we watched, Tattoo Man and the other kids vanished round the side of the toilets, leaving the skinny dark-haired girl in plain view, still struggling with her shoelace.

Nico darted down the corridor to the door that led onto the courtyard. He yanked on the handle. Locked. He raised his hand in the gesture he uses to perform telekinesis.

‘What are you doing?’ I said, appalled.

‘Listen,’ he said, urgently. ‘If what we’ve just seen is typical of what goes on in this camp, then we need to find out and tell Geri before she leaves.’ He twisted his hand. There was a click as the lock undid and the door sprang ajar. I stared, impressed in spite of myself. I’d never tell him this, but Nico’s telekinetic skills are pretty amazing to watch.

Nico pushed the door open and stepped into the courtyard.

I hesitated for a second, then followed. Nico was right, we had to find out what we were letting ourselves in for.

The heat hit me hard. Even in the shade of the courtyard it was like stepping into an oven. I glanced round as we crept across the paving stones. No one at the windows. At least we wouldn’t be spotted from inside the house.

Nico had already reached the girl. She jumped as he touched her shoulder. He said something in a low voice while I ran past and peered round the side of the hut.

The other kids and Tattoo Man were gathered next to a ramshackle old VW bus, parked in the shade of a single tree. Next to the bus was a huge wooden well, with a fenced area beyond. This area was strikingly lush and green compared to the arid desert all around us. Tattoo Man was talking in Spanish. His speech was too rapid for me to catch any of the words, but he was clearly barking out orders.

I turned back to Nico and the girl.

‘Que?’ she was whispering. ‘Quien eres?’

Nico turned to me. ‘I don’t understand what she’s saying,’ he whispered.

I barely heard him. I was staring, transfixed, at the girl. I wasn’t looking into her eyes – that would have meant automatically mindreading her – but I’d already seen they were beautiful: a sea-green colour that stood out against her tanned skin. And it wasn’t just her eyes.
She
was beautiful. About my age, with a worried, oval face, a long nose and silky dark hair that curled onto her shoulders.

‘
Ed
,’ Nico hissed.

‘She asked who we were,’ I explained.

‘Ed,’ I said to the girl. ‘Me llamo Ed. Este es Nico. Y tu? Como te llamas?’

The girl was trying to look into my eyes, but I kept my gaze averted.

‘Luz,’ she whispered. ‘Me llamo Luz. You . . . Eds, English . . . please, help . . .’

‘What are you saying?’ Nico hissed beside us.

‘Just our names,’ I said. ‘She’s called Luz.’

‘Loos?’ Nico said.

‘Luz, donde estas?’ Tattoo Man shouted from round the corner.

Luz froze. Nico grabbed my arm with one hand and Luz’s with the other and dragged us into the WC marked
Senors –
the men’s toilet.

We stood in the narrow, dimly lit corridor. A stench drifted out from the toilets.

‘Ask her what the hell’s going on here,’ Nico demanded.

A second later, a shadow fell across the doorway. I held my breath and pressed my back against the cool concrete wall.

‘LUZ, ven aqui!’ It was the man, even angrier than before. He swore in Spanish, then said something I just about understood about there not being time for a toilet break.

He thought Luz was in the ladies’ toilet next to this one.

Luz took a step towards the door. I grabbed her arm. I didn’t dare speak in case the man heard us. If I wanted to know what was going on here, I was going to have to mind-read. I pulled Luz round until she met my eyes.

In a second I was inside her mind. People always freak when that happens the first time, and Luz was no exception. Her mind was jumping around, full of fear and confusion. Mind you, my own thoughts were jumping about just as badly.

Hola
, I stammered – not knowing what else to thought-speak.
It’s okay. Who is that man?

Que?
Luz’s mind was still all over the place, her thought-speech tumbling out.

How this?
A single strand of thought stood out above the rest:
We must quick
. . .
Eds, English
. . .
you just come in camp, no?

Si.
I tried to make my mind settle.

This place no es good. Senor Fernandez es bad man. You go. Tell persons
. . .
help
. . .

Where are you going in the van?

Que?

Donde vas en el
. . .
el coche grande?

Damn it, why did my Spanish have to desert me now?

No se
. . .
I don’t know
. . .
Ed. Por favor. Ayudame.

Ayudame. Help me. My stomach turned over.

‘
Luz!
’ The man outside sounded very close. ‘Are you in the
men’s
toilet?’ he said in Spanish.

Need go
, Luz’s thought-speech grew panicky.
Help.

‘Ed, leave it,’ Nico hissed, right in my ear.

I will help, I promise.
I broke the connection.

Luz burst through the door. We waited, holding our breath. I could hear the man yelling at her, then the slap of a hand, presumably making contact with Luz’s head. I raged silently at the thought of her being hurt.

A few more seconds passed, then Nico peered out after her. ‘They’ve gone, come on,’ he said.

He slipped outside and raced across the courtyard.

I followed, more slowly, a large part of me wanting to find Luz. I could hear the bus revving up round the corner.

What was happening to her? Where was she being taken?

And then a large hand clamped down on my shoulder and Senor Fernandez’s heavy, nasal voice sounded in my ear.