Witch and Wizard - James Patterson [8]
I heard a loud buzz, and the gate opened.
“Don’t you guys feel kind of dumb?” I said. “I mean, a dozen giant men, just for us two kids—it’s kind of embarrassing. Wouldn’t you—ow!” A guard had jabbed my ribs, hard, with his wooden baton.
“Start thinking about your upcoming interrogation,” the guard said. “Talk, or die. Your choice, kiddies.”
Chapter 11
Wisty
IT WAS BEGINNING TO FEEL like this sickening nightmare was for real, and now I wasn’t even going to be allowed the small comfort of going through it in my old pink PJs. They made us change into gray-striped prison jumpsuits that looked like something out of World War II. Whit’s jumpsuit fit him—guess he was standard-prisoner size—but mine hung on me like a sail on a windless day.
My funky PJs had been my last connection to home. Without them, the only thing I had from my former life was the drumstick.
The drumstick. Why a drumstick, Mom? I missed her already and felt a deep anxiety creep in when I wondered what they’d done with her and Dad.
“Don’t pull her arm like that!” Whit snapped at my guard. He was right. It felt like my arm was about to pop out of its socket.
“Shut up, wizard,” growled the surly guard, dragging us through yet another electronic gate marked PROPERTY OF THE NEW ORDER. Then we were in an enormous hall, five stories high, surrounded on all sides by cages and barred cells.
For criminals.
And us. Me and my brother. Can you imagine? No—you probably can’t. How could anybody in their right mind imagine this?
One of the cell doors slid open, and the guards threw me inside. I fell, hitting my knees and hands hard on the cement floor.
“Wisty!” Whit shouted as they hauled him past my door, which immediately slid shut. I pressed my face against the bars, trying to see where they were taking Whit. They shoved him in the cell next to mine.
“Wisty, you okay?” Whit called over right away.
“Sort of,” I said, examining my scraped knees. “If I’m allowed to totally change what ‘okay’ means.”
“We’ll get out of here,” he said. I could hear the braveness and anger in his voice. “This is all just a stupid mistake.”
“Au contraire, my naive amigo,” said a voice from the cell on the other side of Whit.
“What? Who are you?” Whit asked.
I strained to hear his words.
“I’m prisoner number 450209A,” said the voice. “Trust me, there’s been no mistake. And they didn’t forget to read you your rights. And they aren’t going to give you a lawyer or a phone call. And your mama and papa aren’t coming to get you. Ever. And that’s a long, long time.”
“What do you know about it?” I shouted.
“Look, how old are you?” said the voice.
“I’m almost eighteen,” Whit said, “and my sister’s fifteen.”
“Well, I’m thirteen,” he offered, “so you’ll fit right in here.”
And then I looked across at all the cells on the other side of the block. I saw face after face, one scared kid after another. All wearing too-big prison jumpsuits.
It looked like this whole jail was full of kids, nothing but kids.
Chapter 12
Wisty
“YUP, IT’S PRETTY much just us kids around here these days,” said the voice from the far cell. “I’ve been here nine days—I was one of the first. But in the last three days, this rat hole has really filled up.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Whit asked softly, so as not to attract a guard’s attention.
“Not a whole lot, jefe. But I heard some of the guards talking about a clean sweep,” the voice said quietly, close to the bars. “You remember hearing about the New Order?”
“Yeah,” I joined in, “but I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“Okay, so you’ve been living inside your head… somewhere dark and nasty,” said the voice. “But, if it’s any consolation, so was most of the rest of the country. See, the New Order is the political party that’s been winning all the elections. They’re in charge now. In just a few months they’ve gutted the old government