Super Secret | Half Hero Book 2 [ON HOLD]

Chapter 18: The Farm

 Aaron's leg wasn't just broken, it had been shattered when he was thrown across the room during the explosions. The EMTs who tended to him were worried that shards of bone had traveled to his bloodstream, which sounds just a deadly as it is. 

I overheard that he was going to be put in a medically induced coma at Georgetown University's hospital, where Varun and my mom were also being treated for mild injuries and trauma.

I was still sitting in the middle of the smoldering rubble that was once my family's new house, trying to find evidence of Cyrus or his sexy sister. My arms and legs were in iron shackles, courtesy of the United States military, and my sanity was in pieces. My family was nearly killed because of me. Even if I could, I didn't want to conjure my powers to try and escape this time.

Trapped and alone, I was a willing pariah.

Jonathan Miller, the slick deputy Secretary of State I'd met last year, was wandering around the debris on his cell phone and throwing me dirty looks. His flapping jaw was covered with a paper mask to keep the dust from getting in the way of his golden tongue. His deceptively genial attitude was gone, replaced with cold authority and calculated efficiency while he orchestrated the cleanup.

Several uniformed men and women combed the property while news helicopters and nosy neighbors tried to get a look over the fences. Spotlights had been set up around the yard, beaming like it was midday to ensure that no stone go unturned.

As usual, no one would tell me what was going on, so I sat there nursing the row of tender puncture marks around my wrist. I'd kicked the bracelet into a pile of wreckage after Cyrus freed it from my arm. Soon the government would find that too, but my fate was already sealed.

"Get her up," Jonathan roared at a tall man near me.

The burly officer turned around, probably hoping to find someone else that Jonathan might be yelling at. When the soldier swiveled to face us again, he pointed a gloved hand at his own chest.

"Yes, you!" Jonathan scolded him impatiently. "Get her into the truck. We're bringing her back to the farm."

My ears perked at the mention of my next location.

When my brother was five, my mom told him that his recently deceased hamster, Norman, went to live on a farm where he could swim and play with all the other rodents. Something told me I wasn't going to a sprawling ranch in the pristine mountains of Virginia to laugh and cavort with other subspecies.

The soldier tentatively pointed his gun at my chest and flicked it in the direction of the house. "C'mon, get up!" He called through the filters covering his mouth, sounding a little like a busted radio. "Let's go!"

Sweat glittered off the pasty Storm Trooper's skin as his brown eyes watched me stand. Everyone working the scene wore protective gear, but even so, I could tell this soldier wasn't comfortable being anywhere near me.

"OK, but if we're going upstate," I muttered, mostly to myself. "Someone needs to bring my Claritin."

Picking through the rubble of the once beautiful mid-century home, I trudged over the remnants of drywall and stone toward the street. Many officers paused their duties to wearily watch us parade by, their hands reaching for the triggers of their weapons. Their hearts raced like the hooves of mustangs pounding up a river gorge in an overtly masculine tuck commercial.

So, at least one of my enhanced abilities was working. Not that being a walking electrocardiograph would really come in all that handy.

The street was lined with massive armored cars and nosey neighbors clambering for a look. The crowds were held back by yellow and red tape that had been tied off around every tree and fence post on the sidewalk.

The soldier walked a few paces behind me. "Stop!" He called out.

I halted on the pavement, keeping my feet shoulder width apart to stop the chains from knocking into my ankles, which hurt like hell. His arm shot out to bang on the side of one of the square trucks.

Flashes from cell phone cameras threatened to distract us from the sidelines.

A door swung open from the rear of the vehicle and two large men in dark green jumpsuits hopped out.

"Get in," the soldier growled from behind me, waving his gun menacingly.

My eyes flickered to the blanket of tranquil stars twinkling overhead. I wanted to memorize their beauty in case it was my last chance.

With a muted sigh, I shuffled up the bumper of the boxy iron truck. Inside, the lit cab was bare metal with low benches lining each side.

"Sit!" A man with a gruff voice directed while another soldier in full protective gear clomped up the bumper to join me inside.

I slid to the cold floor, deflated and ready to admit defeat. I'd nearly killed my brother with my selfish actions. I'd endangered Varun, the only person willing to tell me the truth in this whole cockup. Oh, and I possibly got Cyrus and his sister murdered along the way.

I didn't deserve the supernatural abilities I'd been gifted in the first place. All I did was hurt people.

The private, a hulking African American man with a mask covering most of his lower jaw, sealed the doors with both of us inside. He planted himself on the bench, keeping his ocean blue eyes on me. 

To avoid his curious stare, I buried my head in my knees and blocked out the dim light of the cab. I wanted to wallow alone.

The engine rumbled to life and the truck slowly accelerated, pinging rubble and glass shards into its undercarriage to take us away. 

Happy Friday Everyone!!! Of course, if you are not readig this chapter on a Friday, then HAPPY DAY to you :)