Fifteen-year-old Myra just wants to go home. Years ago, she was abducted at recess by strange men. Now she shares a small house in the woods with four other victims. Myra, Jason, Amy, Derek, and Alex know the only things that stand in their way of esca

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

Book One of the Beholder TrilogyBy Taylor McConaghy

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Taylor McConaghy
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-3322-2

Chapter One

MY BREATH CONDENSES IN front of my face as I breathe heavily. A shriek sounds across the pavement, sending a chill down my spine. I try to press myself closer to the wall behind me, a wooden crate to my right, only half protecting me. Something moves to my left; my unprotected side. Closing my eyes, I tense my muscles. Who was making that noise? And whose side were they on?

Feet shuffle across the floor, squeaking as they move. My heart beats so loud, I wonder if I'm the only person who can hear it. As the noise quiets, I open my eyes and inch to the end of the crate. Slowly, my whole body tense, I peek around the corner. Something grabs my shoulder.

I spin around, ready to scream, when the grip is moved from my shoulder to cover my mouth and I'm yanked backward. When I realize who it is I relax. My eyes brighten slightly at the sight of him. I shake my head a bit to clear my vision and try to speak.

"Mmm-mm!"

Jason puts a finger to his lips and lets me go. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. We huddle in the corner for a minute before he moves away slowly. When I open my mouth to talk, he exaggerates another shush to me. Rolling my eyes, I mouth, "Where were you?" He leans close and whispers in my ear, so softly I barely hear him.

"Chased away, almost captured." When he pulls away, he stares intently at me.

"Bad?" I mouth.

He nods, looking serious. His eyes darken as he thinks about what had happened. Worry crosses his face. I shiver. Jason was never worried. He looks around, obviously looking for an escape route. I hate it when we have to retreat. In the middle of my silent sulking, he taps my shoulder and points to an open window above us. I nod, and as quietly as possible, he boosts me onto a crate. I climb up, and then carefully flip myself, dropping onto the grass below. I only wait 'til Jason's legs come through the window when I bolt. Jason easily catches up. We keep running until we see a low chain fence and sit down, panting.

"So," Jason says. "Where were you?"

"I saw them," I say, still catching my breath. "Their backs were to me, and I bolted," I pause and take another deep breath. "Then I saw more of them, so I had to lie low." My heart was finally slowing down.

"My," Jason uses my nickname. That's not always a good thing. "My, I think we're just gonna have to wait for next time."

I sigh. Like I thought, not always good news.

"We will find a way Myra, don't worry."

He puts his hand over mine and I feel the warmth seep into me. I like it when he tries to cheer me up, but in his voice I can hear that he doubts what he says.

"I just wanna go home," I mumble, a tear sliding down my cheek.

Jason, three others and I are trapped here. Behind that highly guarded storage unit we were just in is the only way out of here. We all have something in common, we were all stolen. I was taken when I was ten years old. Men showed up at recess, shoved me into their car and took off. That was four years ago. Jason is fifteen, one year older than me. He's never talked about how he came to be at the facility; he's only ever talked about escape. The others don't like to talk about how they were abducted either, but I'm sure it was just as traumatic for them as it was for me.

"Hey, don't cry," he says in an unwavering voice, his eyes softening. "We will get out of here." With his fingers, he turns my chin towards him. "Trust me."

Taking a breath, I nod, wiping my eyes. He stands up and holds out his hand. His face is hopeful, even though I know inside he's as twisted with sadness and worry as I am. Yet, he's always able to make me feel better. I take his hand. Ten minutes later, we arrive at the small house nestled in the woods. Jason and I walk in to see Amy and Derek. Alex is probably hiding in his room. Eagerly, both Amy and Derek bombard us with questions.

"How was it?"

"Did you find a way to escape?"

"Why are you back already?"

"How–"

"Nothing." I say, disappointment choking me. "We didn't find out anything new. Another retreat."

I slip off my sneakers and throw my hoodie on the floor. A hand gently squeezes my shoulder. Soothingly, Jason whispers in my ear, "Get some rest, 'kay My? Alex and Amy will try again in the morning."

We usually take turns exploring the forbidden area. Sometimes it's because we get hurt and need time to heal, but more often it's because we're mentally frustrated and exhausted. Calming down, I nod against his chest. Jason holds me for a second then lets me go. He's right, I know, but my night is filled with dreams of men in black suits, stealing children, escape impossible.

I can feel the warm sun on my face before I open my eyes in the morning. Slowly, I convince myself to wake up, clearing my head of grogginess. My eyes lift open. Breathing deeply and stretching my arms above my head, I shake the last cobwebs of sleep away. Through bleary eyes, I see a familiar figure in my doorway.

"Spying on me, are we?" I shake my head and smile. Jason walks up to my single bed. "No, I'm just checking on you," he smiles back.

I sit up, my white nightgown catching on the old, scratchy blanket. Silently, I hate those men for giving us such crappy things, but at least we had them. Both Amy and I got a girl's clothing catalogue, and the boys got one for them. It was more of a pamphlet with only a few different choices of color and styles. This was pretty much the only choice of things in our lives now.

Jason sits at the end of my bed. "How'd you sleep?" He looks as messy as I'm sure I do, minus the guaranteed rats nest of hair on my head.

"The usual, not well enough."

I move a slightly crumpled, well-used book off the side of the bed to the small nightstand beside it. This book has served as my friend, comforter and journal since I got here. Jason looks around my room, a bit awkwardly. He's been in here a million times, but ever since Amy figured out that he likes me and I like him, and then spilled to everyone, he hasn't been as comfortable.

I watch him for a minute, looking how his shaggy brown hair spills over almost into his eyes, which are the color of warm, rich cocoa. He's tall and thin, but not scrawny. I mean, not that I've noticed his broad shoulders and strong arms or anything.

A familiar, tasty smell wafts into my room.

"Smells like Derek's making breakfast," Jason notes, then gets up and walks to the door. "Coming?"

I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, walking to my dresser. "Be there in a minute."

He smiles, then walks out, closing the door behind himself. From the few outfits I own, I grab some jean shorts and a plain white t-shirt. After quickly getting through the washroom, brushing my teeth and splashing some water on my face, I pull on my shorts and yank the shirt over my head. Back in my room, I turn to the mirror to brush my hair. I take a deep breath and hold it, puffing out my cheeks. I let it go and blow it upwards, poofing my hair out of my face. I've never been in love with my hair, but I haven't really hated it either. It's just there. Sort of between dark blonde and light brown and long. Pretty straight, but sometimes I get 'super lucky' and it comes up with this kinky wave sort of thing and all I want to do is wear a hat those days. Or maybe a paper bag. My eyes I've always kind of liked, though. They're really dark brown and I think they look like sparkly, shiny pools of melted dark...