5: Taken
Miriam woke with a start. Her first thought was: Why am I in bed?
The last thing she remembered was being in that weird white room and talking to Agent Black and his two anonymous colleagues, and then – nothing. Her mind was a complete blank.
She looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was 9.37 a.m. How long had she been asleep?
"Mom!" she yelled.
Her mother entered the room, which surprised Miriam. Normally her mother was so drunk she was barely able to stand, but now she was completely sober. She couldn't remember ever seeing her mother completely sober.
"So you're awake?" said her mother. "About time too. You've been asleep since yesterday afternoon."
"Why didn't you wake me up?" said Miriam. "I should be in school now!"
"I called the school, told them you were sick."
"Oh."
"Miriam, I'm worried about you," said her mother suddenly.
"Well that's a first," said Miriam sarcastically.
"You spend all your time on your computer, you've barely eaten or slept in two weeks, you're staying up all night, and you're obsessed with doing – well, whatever you're doing! And then some men in suits bring you home unconscious in the middle of the school day, saying you collapsed in downtown. Why weren't you in school?"
"I had a migraine and went home early," said Miriam, feeling a little ashamed at how easily the lie came. "I was going to the pharmacy to buy some aspirin on my way back, because we don't have any, and then I felt faint, and – and I don't remember anything after that."
"Why didn't you call home?"
"No point. You're usually too drunk to answer the phone anyway."
Her mother scowled.
"Miriam, you're going to get me into trouble with social services if you don't cut this out. Now just stop spending your existence messing around with that computer junk and – oh, I don't know, go to the mall or the movies or something, like normal kids do."
"Is that all you care about? Getting in trouble? What about me, Mom? Do you even care about me? Or am I just something you're stuck with, some sort of inconvenience? That's all I am to you, isn't it? An inconvenience. A big mistake!" yelled Miriam.
"Miriam - "
"You hate me!" screamed Miriam. "Don't try and pretend you don't, because you do! I know you do! You don't care! You don't care about anything except getting drunk or staying out of trouble with the social workers! I hate you!"
"I can't take this," said her mother, burying her head in her hands. "I need a drink."
She turned her back on Miriam and went downstairs.
"Yeah. Go on. Crawl back into the bottle," said Miriam savagely. "Just like you always do when things get too tough for you! You're pathetic!"
*
She regretted it later. There had been no need for shouting. But it always happened like that. Every conversation she had with her mother always ended up with at least one of them screaming abuse at the other.
Miriam sighed, flicked over from the search engine she'd been using to search for the Matrix ("no matches found") and scanned through the inbox of her e-mail account. She almost cried when she noticed that Marty's last ever e-mail message was still sitting there in her inbox.
No more e-mail from Marty. There never would be. Another reason why she had to find out more about the Matrix.
Almost as soon as the thought entered her brain, the "You've Got Mail!" message popped up. Miriam clicked the OK button, and saw the new e-mail message; she didn't recognise the address.
Miriam quickly virus-scanned the message. Ever since her run-in with the agents, her paranoia had increased. She couldn't be too careful. Who knows what they might do to her system, or even to her, if Agent Black and his companions suspected she might be disregarding their "advice"?
No viruses found.
That was all right, then. She opened the message.
You're leaving footprints. Tread lightly and watch your back.
Falcon and TruthGoddess
Falcon – that must be Horus. But she still didn't know who TruthGoddess was. It was infuriating, not knowing. She hated the helpless feeling of not knowing things. Knowledge was indeed power, and right now Miriam didn't feel powerful at all. She felt ignorant and feeble-minded, like a small child. There was so much that she didn't understand…
"Footprints?" said Miriam to herself. "What do they mean, footprints?"
There was a knock at the door. Miriam heard the click of the front door opening, and a murmur of voices downstairs.
"Miriam?" her mother called.
"Yeah?"
"Get down here right now!"
Miriam turned off her computer and went downstairs. She was halfway downstairs when she saw who was standing at the front door. She stopped dead.
"Oh, no," she gasped.
Agents. Three of them. And one of them was the ever-present Agent Black.
"Mrs Moorgate, we're from Social Services," said one of the agents.
"We're here to talk to you about your daughter," said the other.
"Why? What's she done?" said her mother suspiciously.
She turned to Miriam.
"What've you done now?" she snapped.
"Nothing!" said Miriam.
"I told you, didn't I?" her mother bellowed. "I told you you'd get me in trouble with social services! Now look what you've done!"
"I haven't done anything!" Miriam protested.
"She was warned, Mrs Moorgate."
"Repeatedly."
"And yet she persisted."
"Now she must be taken."
"Taken where?" said Miriam's mother. "What's going on?"
"Mrs Moorgate, several weeks ago the students in your daughter's class took part in a psychiatric evaluation test," said Agent Black. "The results have come back. We're sorry to inform you that your daughter has a severe case of obsessive-compulsive disorder and also appears to be suffering from delusions. She needs immediate psychiatric treatment at a secure medical institution."
"No! No, Mom, don't listen to them! They're lying! I don't have obsessive-compulsive disorder! I'm not crazy! And they're not from Social Services! Mom, they're after me! They know I know too much, and they're going to kill me! Don't let them take me away, please!" begged Miriam.
"Not crazy."
"That's what they all say."
"But they are."
"They all are."
"I'm not!" wailed Miriam, grabbing her mother's sleeve. "Please, Mom, I'm not crazy! I swear I'm not! Don't let them take me! You can't let them take me!"
Her mother ignored her.
"Treatment? What sort of treatment?" she asked the agents.
"Special treatment," said Agent Black.
"Is this going to cost me money?" she said, scowling.
"Not a penny, Mrs Moorgate."
"This is in the public interest."
"For the common good."
"For your daughter's own safety."
"Safety?" Miriam shrieked. "They're going to kill me, Mom!"
"Don't be so stupid, Miriam," said her mother shortly. "So what do I have to do about this?"
"Not a thing."
"We'll handle everything."
"Even the paperwork?" said Miriam's mother.
"Especially the paperwork."
"All you have to do is sign here."
"On the dotted line."
One of the agents produced an official-looking document and a pen, and held them out to Miriam's mother.
"Mom, no! Don't! Don't sign it!" Miriam pleaded.
"It's for her own good, Mrs Moorgate," said Agent Black.
Very slowly, her mother nodded. She took the pen and signed the form. Miriam watched in horror as the document was passed back to the agents. Agent Black took the piece of paper, folded it neatly, and put it in his pocket.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs Moorgate," he told her. "Don't worry. We'll take good care of your daughter."
"No! No! Mom! Please, Mom! I'm sorry I yelled at you! Please! Don't let them take me!" shrieked Miriam, as the other two agents stepped forward. They grabbed her by the arms before she could even think about dodging them, and although she fought and kicked and struggled to get away, their grip was just too strong to break.
"I'm sorry, Miriam," said her mother. "But these men say you need help."
"Mom!" Miriam howled.
"Good day, Mrs Moorgate," said Agent Black, with a curt nod. He turned and walked down the path towards a waiting car. His colleagues followed him, dragging Miriam along behind them, still kicking and screaming.
For the second time in two days, Miriam was thrown roughly into the back of an unmarked black car. It was much worse the second time around. Last time, she had no idea what was going to happen to her. This time, she knew she was going to die.
*
They've got her.
I know.
We need her.
I know.
And they've got her.
Yes.
So what are you two going to do about it?
We're going to get her back…
