JACOB

The tunnel lights pass overhead like the watchful eyes of a monster and every muscle in my body tenses up. A low howl from the engine echoes off the walls like the growl of a predator and it makes me shiver. My heart just booms in my chest. As we approach the exit, closer to the unknown, any terror I've ever felt just seems to be small in comparison...

I don't know where he's taking me, but, if television has taught me anything, I probably don't want to know.

Kidnapped. As if my day could get any worse... Well, I guess it could. As far as I'm concerned, there's no one coming to my rescue. And as the tunnel gets smaller behind us, I can't help but notice that there's just more road. Wherever I'm going, it's definitely out in the middle of nowhere.

I sit quietly in the back of the car, keeping my eyes on the driver. He hasn't spoken since the exchange at the parking garage. He hasn't even looked at me. The first guy wouldn't stop looking at me. He was a lot more jittery. It's not until he glances at me through the rear view mirror that I realize I'm holding my breath. Maybe this is how I'm trying to keep calm. Because there's only one thought in my head.

He's going to kill me.

The duct tape on my mouth has loosened slightly by my tears, but it leaves a sour taste on my lips. I want to tear it off but I'm afraid what he will do to me if I do. I was afraid of the first guy too, but the first guy was like a freak of nature. I don't know how he took me from the morgue to the hospital alley so fast, but if he could do something as crazy as that, who knows what else he can do.

I'm just as frightened about this guy though. I don't know what he wants with me. I don't know what he's capable of.

"Please don't kill me," I whisper. "Please don't kill me."

He glances at me again. "You can take off the tape if you want," he says calmly.

Surprised, I look away from him. I don't know what to do. It's the first time he's spoken, and he decides to say something like that? Is he trying to be nice to me? Is he trying to calm me down?

He shrugs when I remain motionless. "Or you can leave it on."

Slowly, I reach up to my mouth and finger at the edges of the tape while I keep a cautious eye on his reaction. When I finally rip it off, he looks back at me and smiles again (it still doesn't make me feel any better about my situation).

I crumple the tape in my hand, but it is difficult since my wrists are tied up. I don't know where to put it so I just hold it in my hands.

"Are you hungry?" he asks suddenly.

I'm surprised by his question. It doesn't seem like something a kidnapper should ask.

"You must be starving."

I remain silent. How am I supposed to respond to that? Yes, I'm completely starving but that's not something I'd tell him.

He turns his head and looks at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I'm sorry you had to be tied up like that," he says with a gesture of his hand. "James is an idiot."

He's really starting to freak me out now. Is he trying to be my friend? Is he trying to gain my trust before he takes me out? I've seen a lot of movies and this is not how the captors act. They torture their prisoners, or lock up their captives in dingy prisons, or get all pervy if they're really messed up... God, I need to stop thinking about that. Imagining all of the terrible things he will do to me is not helpful at all.

But I can't even think of the why he kidnapped me in the first place.

Great. Now I am both terrified and confused.

The car suddenly pulls over to the side of the road. It happens so quickly, I have to use my hands to stop myself from hitting the chair in front of me. Cautiously, I watch as he turns off the engine and steps out of the car.

This is it, I think. This is the moment he's going to kill me.

He walks to the trunk, opens it, and takes something out. I fight the urge to see what he has, but my curiosity gets the better of me. As he opens the door, the moonlight reflects the shiny blade of a knife.

I let out a yelp that would have embarrassed me if my life wasn't on the line. "Oh God!" I scream. "Don't kill me!"

He just chuckles and takes my hands.

An overwhelming sense of self-preservation overtakes me. I never knew how badly I wanted to live. With as much ferocity as I have, I try to kick him away.

"Hold on, Kid," he demands. "Hold still."

"Help! Somebody help me!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "I don't want to die! Why did you kidnap me? Why are you trying to kill me? Help-"

Suddenly, the whole world goes in slow motion.

Everything just slows down. My body delays like I'm fighting underwater. It's as if my mind is at normal speed, but my body isn't. I can't explain it fully but everything slows down except for him.

Without me to kick him him away, he easily reaches for my hands and cuts the ties around my wrists.

And just as quickly as it started, the world snaps back to normal.

What just happened?

I look around, not sure if I imagined it.

"I'm not trying to kill you, Kid," he says with a laugh as he leaves to put the knife back in the trunk. "I'm a good guy."

His words hit me like a brick wall. Of all the crazy things he says to me, 'I'm a good guy' must be the craziest. Still, if he's willing to untie me, he can't be all bad, can he?

I look down at the crumpled piece of tape still in my hands. As I put it down beside me, the two halves of rope from my wrists catch my eye. Gingerly, I pick them up.

In many ways, the rope is like today: in pieces.

Hours ago, I ran away from my parents because they were getting a divorce. And now they're dead and I've been kidnapped. I'm in a car going who knows where. How can so many awful things happen so quickly? I'm lost, alone, and, although I don't want to admit it, I'm still scared. I have no idea what's happening and I have no idea what's going to happen.

I wish Amber was here. She always listens to me when I'm afraid. She makes me feel like I matter, like I'm actually important to someone else. She'd probably give me some great words of wisdom and tell me that I'm acting like a baby for being so scared. Amber can definitely make me feel better about myself in any situation.

The trunk door closes and he steps into the car. "What's your name, Kid?" he asks suddenly, bringing me out of my thoughts.

He looks at me through the rear view mirror again. I look back at him but I don't say anything.

He turns around and faces me. "Here. I'll go first. I'm Cale."

I shake my head.

"You don't have to be afraid," he says. "You can trust me, Kid. I'm a good guy."

"What does that mean?" I let slip out. Quickly, I cover my mouth. I didn't mean to say anything at all.

He chuckles. "It means that you're not a prisoner. It means that you're not here against your will."

I take a deep breath, still confused but slightly relieved. Obviously, I can't take his word for it, but it somehow makes me feel a little bit better. "So I can leave whenever I want?"

He cringes slightly. "Well, not exactly."

"But you said I'm not a prisoner."

"You're not," he says very normally.

"Then you can't stop me if I escape."

He chuckles. "I never said that."

I reach for the door handle. My hand hovers just above it. "If I'm not a prisoner, then what am I?"

"You're a guest," he responds. "After you meet my boss, you can decide wherever you want to go."

A guest? My hand drops away from the door. Curiosity gets the best of me and compels me to ask more questions. "Who is your boss?"

"His name is Mr. Boothe."

"Who is that?"

"All you need to know is that he's a very powerful man who has a lot of influence in the world."

I scratch the back of my head, trying to understand everything. "Why does he want to meet me?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "You must be special."

"Special?"

Nodding his head, he readjusts himself in the chair. "Yes. Like me. Or James." He looks deeply into my eyes and grins. "You must have an ability too."

Being special? Having abilities? What is he talking about? Everything he says doesn't make any sense. I'm not a prisoner but I can't leave? I must be special like him or James?

I think back to when I was kidnapped. It's obvious that the man who took me wasn't normal. Is it possible that Cale is telling the truth?

"Was James the one who kidnapped me?" I ask.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Cale says with an apologetic nod. He shrugs like he doesn't quite know the answer to my question even though he's already answered it. "He's been acting weird lately. He wasn't supposed to kidnap you like that."

I think to the moment I was taken from the morgue again, the moment when we disappeared and reappeared in a matter of seconds. The strange rush of adrenaline and then the sudden feeling of exhaustion afterward. It happened so quickly, I wasn't even sure if it really happened at all. "He... he did something... and we were in the alley behind the hospital," I say out loud.

Cale confirms with a nod. "That's his special ability. He can teleport."

"Teleport," I whisper to myself. I look at Cale curiously. "What can you do?"

"I can alter time relative to myself."

I stare at him blankly.

He grins. "In other words: I can make time around me go slower or faster."

"You used it on me, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," he replies. "It was the only way I could untie you without accidentally hurting you. You've got quite a kick."

I chuckle slightly but it does not take my mind off of my curiosity. Everything he's saying seems too amazing to be true. It seems impossible for people to do the things he describes, but I did teleport out of the morgue and I did experience the weird slow motion thing. It's possible that what he's saying about me is true.

Am I really special? I've never been special, not in my entire life. I've never even felt special before.

I look at him and clear my throat. "Do you know what I can do?"

"Are you asking about your special ability?"

I nod my head.

He shrugs. "I don't know to tell you the truth. Mr. Boothe just tells us to recruit people with abilities and we get them for him."

"Oh, okay," I say with only a nod of my head. It isn't a very satisfying answer.

I look at the handle to the door again. What he's telling me is crazy. I don't know why I even partially believe it. I can run away and get help. I can escape.

"You know I can't let you go yet," he says. He sees me looking at the door handle. He knows what I'm thinking. "And even if you run, you're not gonna get very far."

He's right, but I have to try, don't I?

"You still want to escape even after everything I've told you?"

"Can you blame me?"

Cale chuckles with a smirk. He just shrugs his shoulders and leans back. "Well, you can come with me or I can make you come with me. It's your choice."

I look back to the door handle.

"But aren't you at least curious enough to know why Mr. Boothe wants to see you?"

He's right. I want to why he wants to meet me, but there doesn't seem to be any reason why he would. I'm just a kid. I'm not rich. I'm not important. If I were special, wouldn't I know it? Wouldn't I feel like it?

"Hey, Kid," he says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I look up at him.

"Do you know why he told James to pick you up at the hospital and not at Willis Tower?"

I shake my head.

"He knew that Willis Tower was going to be hit by the earthquake. He knew that your parents were going to die today." He paused and leaned in closer. "That's why he told James to meet you in the morgue."

"How could he know that?"

Cale smiles and turns on the engine. "Why don't you ask him when you meet him tomorrow."

I remain silent, digesting all of the information. A lot of my questions are answered, but despite them, there are so many more I have, probably as many as I had when I was in the tunnel. Except, instead of being scared of the answers, I'm excited about them.

Who is Mr. Boothe?

What does he want with me?

What special ability do I have?

Whatever the answers are, there's one thing that is true: he wants to see me. For some reason, I am special enough to be seen. That's more attention than my parents ever gave me.

"Hey, Kid," Cale calls back to me. "You never said if you were hungry or not."

I chuckle. "Actually, I'm starving."

"Good," he says with a grin. "So am I."

"And it's Jacob."

"What?" he asks without taking his eyes off of the road.

"My name," I say. "It's Jacob."