“I don't know.”
“And that baby… No blanket. No clothes. No one to take care of it—” My voice broke as the cold air caught in my lungs and burned.
He slowly pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me, his heart pounding beneath my cheek, and I had to blink faster as my eyes stung.
How would I save my dad and all those poor people in that place? I didn’t know anyone in the military. Jeremy didn’t count; he was just a journalist embedded thousands of miles away. He couldn’t help. I would have to do something. But what?
Would my dad die in that camp too, like that baby and that man who tried to climb the fence? Would they start drugging my dad too so he wouldn’t fight them?
It all seemed so incredibly hopeless, and stupid, and pointless. None of those people should be imprisoned in the first place, much less treated like mindless cattle!
Was I the only person on the planet who knew about this and cared? Why weren’t the papers and the bloggers writing about this? Why weren’t there petitions to stop this from happening, and court battles and people fighting D.C. to get the laws changed so this couldn’t happen ever again? Why was Jeremy writing about some war overseas that nobody cared about anymore, when there was a war happening right here in our own country?
I grabbed handfuls of the soft cloth before my face, the only thing I had to hold on to, and tried to remember how to breathe as the fear and the horror of it all ripped through me again and again. And then, sweeping in on the heels of the fear and horror came anger, so hot and furious that it seemed to boil at my insides.
It had to stop. All of it…the arrests, the internment camps, the drugging, the deaths. Someone had to stop it. Now.
“I know what you're thinking,” I whispered past the tightness in my throat.
“What am I thinking?” he murmured, resting his cheek against the top of my head. He was being so gentle with me, and part of me thought it was wonderful. But another part of me just wanted to punch something.
“You're thinking you should say something to make me feel better. Like 'that baby didn't feel any pain.'“
“Even if it didn't feel any pain, it's still an innocent life wasted.”
His words froze me inside and out. He had seen it too. I’d forgotten that. I wasn’t the only witness to today’s horrors.
But we were only two people. It wasn’t enough. Everyone needed to know about it, and more, to actually care.
I saw again that tiny arm flung wide, turning blue.
What kind of world did we live in, when a baby could die surrounded by people who didn’t care?
I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and let the tears fall…for that baby, and that man shot to death at the camp's gates. For my father stuck inside that compound when he hadn’t even done anything wrong to get arrested in the first place. And for who knew how many others who might have already died in other camps just like that one.
“You're right.” I finally gave in to the urge to wrap my arms around his waist, using his solid strength to hold me up for just a moment. “There's nothing we can do to change what happened today. Nothing.” I didn’t even know why I was crying. What was the point in it? Tears wouldn’t bring that baby back to life, wouldn’t turn back time to save anyone. It was all a waste, just a complete waste.
His arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry, Tarah. I wish we hadn't seen it.”
“What?” Shocked, I leaned back to look up at him. “Don't say that. Don’t ever say that. We’re the only two people on the planet who saw them die and actually care.”
Taking a step back, I wiped my cheeks dry with my hands and took a deep breath to steady myself. I looked around us, seeing for the first time the cars rushing by us on the freeway, going so fast they rocked us a little with each one's passing, their drivers blissfully unaware of the people dying in the internment camp just miles from here. Before today, I had been just like them.
“You really think it's better not to know?" I asked him. "That's why crap like this is happening in the first place. Because no one knows about it. And the ones who do either don't care or are powerless to stop it."
We stared at each other in silence.
“We have to get them out of there.” I didn’t know I was going to say that until the words blurted out of my mouth. But as soon as I said them, I knew they were the truth. It was up to us. “All of them. Not just my dad.”
Hayden’s eyes widened then narrowed. “No way, Tarah. We’ll find a way to get your dad out of there. I’ll talk to my dad. Maybe he can pull some strings and get your dad freed. But as for the rest of them… We’ve got to stay out of that. It’s a federal thing, it’s too big for us to fight on our own. And anyone we try to talk to is going to see us as just a couple of crazy teens—”
“My friends won’t. They’re outcasts too. They don’t know what’s going on in the camps. But once they do… And don’t forget, those soldiers might have guns, but our side’s got a lot more than that. Think fireballs and small earthquakes, Hayden. The outcasts I know have all kinds of special abilities. Not as good as yours probably, but good enough to fight with. They'll help us.”
“Forget it.” He walked around to the front of the truck as if intending to get back in on the driver side.
I ran after him, grabbing his shoulder as he stepped into the headlights, determined to stop him and make him hear me out on this. “How many kids were in that camp? And none of them, adults or kids, had coats on or even blankets. Winter's here. They could freeze to death. And the guards would let them, you know they would. We have to get them out of there!”
“Did you see how many guards were there?” He whirled to face me, throwing one arm out wide, his eyes making these fast little side-to-side movements as they searched mine. “You saw what they did to that man. You want that to happen to you?”
The fear tried to come back. I swallowed hard, forcing it down. “Better that than to be locked up and helpless.”
“Tarah, you don't have to worry about that. I would never let you end up in one of those camps.”
I gritted my teeth. “Of course I wouldn't end up there. They’d stick me in a regular prison maybe, but not an internment camp. Those are just for descendants and outcasts. Once they figure out Dad’s not one of them, either, they’ll probably transfer him out too.”