The Battle's Master

[The Scribe]

I'm posting the first chapter of the book I'm working on. It still needs a lot of revision, but I want to see the level of interest. Feel free to comment and critique!

[The Scribe]

Caleb tried the car door once again, shaking the handle several times as he shoved his weight against the metal. Nothing. Just as he’d expected. Caleb was an idiot. An idiot who was in huge trouble.
“There’s no point, kid,” the driver said, adjusting his mirror so he could look at Caleb. “You’re not getting out.”
Not responding, Caleb pressed his head against the window. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. Someone would come looking for him, right? They would notice he was missing soon and call the police - one of the workers at the group home. That was, of course, if anybody actually cared enough about him to report the disappearance.
His day had started out bad and ended up worse than he could imagine.

Caleb stared hopelessly at the broken glass on the floor. He dropped the rag in his hand, his mouth hanging open. Those had been very expensive beakers.
Within seconds, his science teacher, Mr. Kelley, was next to Caleb. There was an odd growling sound coming from his throat, barely loud enough for Caleb to hear.
“I’m so sorry,” Caleb said.
“I hope you have the money to pay for this,” Mr. Kelley said.
By now, everyone in the class noticed the mess. Caleb felt very small beneath all the stares, smirks, and comments. “I don’t. I - the state, they can’t -”
“You are going to have to pay for this. I will be contacting your caretakers immediately.” Mr. Kelley swept off into his office, leaving Caleb to clean up the glass. The bell rang just as he finished. Caleb was more than grateful to get out of there. He couldn’t stop shaking throughout the rest of school. He was terrified of what Mr. Lindsay would say.
He could only hope that nothing else would happen before he got home. He should have learned not to get his hopes up. He kept his head down as he got on the bus. If nobody saw him, nobody could bother him.
“Trying to hide?” Caleb recognized that voice. He hated that voice. It belonged to Mason Bryce. He was a burly kid with spiky auburn hair and eyes so dark they were almost black. He pushed Caleb to the window, sliding into the now empty seat next to him. “I heard about you breaking the beakers in science. Mr. Lindsay is gonna be furious with you.”
Mr. Lindsay, while being the head caretaker at the group home, was not a very caring man, at least not to Caleb. He always handed out the strictest punishments.
“It was an accident.”
“He’ll still be mad, stupid. He’ll have to fill out paperwork and get money from the state. Again. I would remind you of all the times he’s had to do that before, but there’s too many to count.”
“Maybe if you could count on more than one hand it wouldn’t be so hard.” Caleb winced. The insult would come back to bite him and he knew it.
“So you admit you’ve damaged a lot of property.”
“Shut up,” Caleb said.
“I don’t think I will,” Mason said. “You should know, this is exactly why you haven’t been adopted. Nobody wants a kid who’ll blow up their house.”
“I said shut up.”
“Maybe if you were a little more careful and a little less clumsy people would actually like you. But you’re not worthy of love. You - “
Caleb couldn’t take it anymore. He punched Mason in the face. Mason’s hands flew to his nose, as drops of blood forced their way between his fingers.
The bus pulled off to the side and the door opened. The driver was glaring at him. “Off. Now,” she said.
Trying to ignore the whispers, Caleb stood, shoved past Mason, and exited the bus. He would have to walk the remaining mile to the group home. He debated not going back. Mr. Lindsay would be angry enough with him before he punched Mason. But he would have nowhere to go, and it was home, even if he sometimes hated it. He would have to go back and face whatever punishment was awaiting him. He would probably be cleaning toilets, wiping up vomit, and scrubbing dishes for the next month.
Mr. Lindsay was waiting in the living room for him when Caleb arrived home. “You’ve made quite the mess of things.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”
“You didn’t mean to punch Mason Bryce?”
“Well, I did. But he pushed me to it. He said that I wasn’t -”
“I don’t care what he said. It does not excuse your actions. You broke his nose.”
“What’s the punishment?” Caleb asked.
“I have not fully thought that over yet. Keep in mind that this is your fourth infraction in six months,” Mr. Lindsay said.
“The farmhouse was an accident. And if the stall doors had been locked like they were supposed to there wouldn’t have been a problem.”
“Enough, Caleb. For now, you will be confined to your room. You will miss the festivities and dinner. In the morning we will discuss the rest of your punishment and your possible relocation.”
“Relocation?”
“To a correctional facility for troubled boys.”
“What? You can’t put me in there. Please, Mr. Lindsay. Those places are awful.”
“I wouldn’t consider it if I didn’t think it was necessary. Now go on to your room.”
Caleb took a deep breath.Though he felt like collapsing, he kept his head up until the door was closed behind him. Twelve years old and he was being treated like a criminal.
It was only hours later that he made the worst mistake of his life.
Caleb sat down on his bed next to the window. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to break something or cry. He did both. He picked up a ceramic dog - a token his social worker had given him when he was six and first ended up in the system, and a promise that one day he would find people who loved him, who wanted to adopt him - and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall. Immediately, Caleb regretted the decision. He picked up two of the biggest pieces and spent the next several hours staring at them, feeling an overpowering sense of loneliness.
At ten o’clock, he finally put the pieces down. The rest of the boys were still celebrating, though it was an hour past the usual bed time. Caleb was exhausted. He was ready to slide himself under the covers and be done with the day when he noticed movement outside the window. Odd. There was usually nobody out at this time. He pushed himself out of bed, standing in front of the window for only a few seconds before he caught another glimpse of movement.
Moments later, a figure appeared under a streetlamp. Caleb could not see a face - it was covered, but it was clearly a man, and he seemed to be staring straight at Caleb. And then he pointed, and then beckoned to Caleb to come to him.
Gasping, Caleb took a step back. He pointed to himself and the figure nodded, beckoning once again. Caleb’s fingers found the lock on the window. He pulled it open and pushed the screen out. Slowly, he climbed out the window, leaping the few remaining feet to the ground. The screen’s plastic crunched underneath his feet. The sensible part of Caleb told him to climb back in that window and never come out again. However, he had never learned to listen to his own reason, so he walked across the street to meet the figure at the streetlamp.
The man stared at him for a moment, unblinking. He shook his head slowly. Caleb was about to ask if the man needed anything when a hand shot from the darkness, grabbing his arm, and pulling him out of the light.
“Let go!” Caleb yelled. His voice became muzzled as the second man’s gloved hand covered his mouth. Caleb bit the fingers of his captor. Shaking his hand, the man cried out in pain. But Caleb didn’t have time to do anything else before the first man shoved a cloth into his mouth and threw him over his shoulder. Feet kicking, hands pounding on the man’s back, Caleb used all his strength as he tried to free himself. His efforts only wore him down.
He was thrown in the back of a car and the door slammed behind him. Caleb pulled the soggy cloth from his mouth with one hand and wiggled the door handle with the other. Childlocked. As soon as the two men entered the vehicle, Caleb threw his arms around the driver’s neck. The man in the passenger’s seat - the one who had been hidden in the dark - wrestled Caleb off the driver. He pulled a roll of duct tape from the dash, and with help from the driver, taped Caleb’s wrists together.
“You can’t do this. The police will come after you. Mr. Lindsay will call them and you’ll be caught.”
“Shut up,” the driver said.
“I see why they wanted him,” said the passenger. “He’s tough.” Before he could ask what they were talking about a piece of tape covered his mouth.
The car roared to life and Caleb watched helplessly as the life he knew become distant and faded into the night. He knew it wouldn’t work, but Caleb tried the door again.
“There’s no point, kid. You’re not getting out.”
Caleb couldn’t keep his tears in any longer. He leaned against the window and started to cry silently. They drove through the night and well into the next day. Several hours after their departure, the two men engaged in a hushed conversation, but Caleb could still hear every word they said.
“You’re positive he’s the right boy?” The passenger said.
“He fits the description,” the driver said. “Scrawny. Black hair, blue eyes. Pale skin. Sums him up pretty well.”
“Hey kid, what’s your name?”
Caleb grunted. He could easily remove the tape, but he wanted to make it as hard on his captors as possible.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you our names. My name’s Landon, and expert night driver here, he’s Hayden.”
“Idiot,” Hayden said. “The boy can’t talk because you duct taped his mouth shut.”
Landon said nothing as he turned around and ripped off the tape, pulling several hairs along with it.
“Let me go,” Caleb said.
“You have been given the privilege of speech. We can always take that away. You aren’t getting out and we aren’t letting you go, so stop asking. Just tell us what we want to know,” Hayden said.
“Caleb Richards,” he mumbled.
“I told you he’s the right kid,” Hayden said.
“Right kid for what?”
“You’ll find out. I don’t want any more questions about it.”
There was silence for several seconds. Until Caleb saw a sign for a rest stop.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
Hayden turned the rearview mirror so he could see Caleb’s face. “Promise not to try
anything?”
“Solemnly promise.” As soon as Hayden looked away, Caleb began pulling against the duct tape. He could feel it becoming loose around his wrists.
The car parked at the rest stop. There was only one other vehicle there, a van that had children in nearly every seat. Unfortunately, Caleb couldn’t see any adults. Landon opened Caleb’s door, and he took off running as soon as he was out of the car. Caleb wrestled with the tape as he ran, freeing himself as he reached a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. His hands gripped the wire as he shoved his feet into the holes and began to climb. He didn’t know how far behind Hayden and Landon were, but he didn’t want to chance anything by looking back.
He had carefully gripped the uppermost part of the barbed wire when he felt a hand grab his foot and begin to pull. “No,” Caleb cried. He used all his strength to hold himself up and pull against the hand. He lost the battle when the other man grabbed him.
He felt the barbed wire slide through his hand as he fell. Hayden and Landon did not try to catch him. His leg landed painfully beneath him, with his ankle twisted awkwardly. Hayden pulled him up like he weighed nothing and Caleb quickly realized from the bruising that had already formed and the intense pain that something was seriously wrong with his ankle. The two men each grabbed one of Caleb’s arms and led him, limping, back to the car. The van was nowhere in sight.
Hayden searched in the back of the trunk for a moment before bringing out a large white box. Caleb’s heart pounded. It probably had chloroform or some sort of drug to make sure he didn’t try to run away again. Or maybe a torture device. Hayden slid into the seat next to Caleb a second later. The box had a large red cross on the front. A first aid kit.
“What’s that for?” Caleb asked.
“You’re hurt,” Hayden said. “Sorry about that.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“You’ll see soon enough. We have another four hours ahead of us and then everything will be cleared up. Let me see your arm.” He opened the first aid kit and brought out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of gauze.
Caleb pulled his arm closer to his chest. He still didn’t trust this man.
“I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Though this may sting a little.” He poured the peroxide onto a cloth and pulled Caleb’s arm toward him. Caleb’s left hand, which he had been using to cradle the wound, was now covered in blood. “We’ll clean that up, too.” Hayden pressed the cloth against the cut and Caleb immediately tried to pull away, but Hayden held on tight. “Give it a minute.” He did this several more times before wrapping the gauze around the cut. “We’ll have to wait until we arrive before your foot gets looked at.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Caleb said as Hayden closed the box. He put it back in the trunk, returned to the driver’s seat, and sped back onto the freeway.
Minutes later, Landon’s phone was ringing. “Hello? Yes, we got the boy. But you chose a feisty one, May. He nearly escaped. Well, no, the circumstances changed. He doesn’t know what’s going on. We thought it would be better that way. And he’s hurt.” Caleb could hear yelling on the other end of the phone. “Yes, ma’am. We will.” Landon hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket.
“May says we should have executed differently.”
“I noticed,” Hayden said.
“Who’s May?” Caleb asked. “And where are we going?”
“May is our boss. And we are going to Boiling Springs National Park.”

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!

[The Scribe]

Bump!