Extracted

By Clover Autrey

What would you do if you woke up to a different life?
A different face?
A different name?
But you remember who you really are.

AnnaLee Johnson awakens from rolling her truck into a ditch into a world of nightmares. She’s no longer herself, told her name is Katherine, and is now in some mysterious school where it seems the ultimate goal is turning amnesiac teens into some kind of super soldiers. The only problem: AnnaLee remembers who she once was. And only one guy believes her.

“No weakness, only strength. Rely on no one.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clover Autrey
• Release date: May 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310548543

Clover Autrey

“Clover Autrey’s books are perfect for the time-constrained reader. They are a quick read jam-packed with action, adventure and emotion.” ...from a reader in Utah.Clover Autrey writes the kind of stories she loves to read, high fantasy and time travels with Scottish Highlanders or magical mermen and shapeshifters, with powerful elements of romance, where the hero and heroine must each make sacrifices to gain something even stronger. She is the author of the HIGHLAND SORCERY series and the ANOINTED series.Clover serves as the current president of the Keller Writers Association and is the past president for the North Texas Romance Writers of America. She is a frequent speaker at conferences and workshops.Inspired by her love of Louis L'Amour historical romantic heroes, Clover (yeah, that's her real name), packed up and moved to Texas where she found a real live Texan of her own. She's been there ever since where she and Pat (who else would a Clover marry but a Patrick?) listen to the coyotes howl at the trains each evening.Become one of Clover's LuckyCharmers for exclusive content and free books at http://www.subscribepage.com/luckycharmers

Book preview

Extracted

By Clover Autrey

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 Clover Autrey

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

~~~

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

End

Extracted

I can’t move.

Jeremy. I try to turn my head to find my brother, but my muscles aren’t cooperating. I can only stare straight up at the shadowy underbellies of clouds that are pulling apart like wet tissue in the darkening sky. Jeremy, I gurgle wetly and warm blood spills between my lips, slides down my face and into my hair. I cough and my ribs rub together wrong, shooting needles of ice picks through my sides. The gravel road digs into my back.

My truck is upside down in the ditch. The roof is crumpled down into the bench seat. I’m no longer inside, but sprawled on the road. Settling dust wisps across the truck’s faded red paint. The front tires are still spinning, the engine whining. You’d think after hitting the ditch and somersaulting through the air, it would have shut off.

Jeremy and Tyler. Are they still inside the crushed truck?

I can’t lift my head to see.

My throat tightens.

A loud whop-whop-whop overcomes the whine of the engine, vibrates painfully through my ribcage. A dark shadow passes above. Helicopter. My heart takes a painful little pull. Help, I scream, though it’s not even loud enough for a whimper. My mouth fills with thick metallic-tasting blood, choking off the dusty air.

The wind blows my skirt up around my hips. Turbulent gusts toss pebbles onto my bare legs as the helicopter lands on the road. My hair blows over my face, dirty blond strands getting stuck in the blood and obscuring my view of the sky. I can’t breathe. Panic wedges in my chest, a hard lump I can’t get air past.

Help, please help.

People rush past me. I get brief glimpses of the bottom of shiny black brief cases and black-clad legs and shoes, kicking up loose gravel. One of them stops and kneels at my side. He turns my head and the choking liquid drains down my cheek.

Help, I manage to grate out with a new spurt of blood.

His hands flinch on my face. This one’s alive.

A woman’s face pushes into view, sharp angled brows slant over green eyes. The wind from the slowing helicopter blades push strands of dark hair out of her whipping ponytail. What’s her condition?

Broken spine, ribs, punctured lungs, body’s in bad shape.

A hard jolt locks up my muscles.

They both stare down at me. Debating.

Extract her. The woman in the ponytail says.

What about the other two?

See if they are viable. We need to extract as many as we can.

Relief slips over around my pain. They’re going to extract us from this wreckage and get us some help. I want to turn my head to get a better view of what is happening, but my body isn’t working, it’s not responding the way it should.

I hear the man report back to the woman. They are both unresponsive, out cold. I’ll assess the damage one at a time.

The woman hovering above me grunts and moves out of my line of vision.

This one is gone.

Check the other, comes her response as I hear her returning close to me again.

Gone? Panic burns through my laboring torso, squeezing my lungs like they’re filling with water. Jeremy, I rasp. Tyler. I hear myself screaming loud and anguished though I know it’s only in my head. Where are they? What did he mean by this one is gone? Who are they talking about? I try to move again, struggling to see where they are, but liquid sloshes up into my throat, my lungs turn into hardened stone, too painful to breathe around it. I’m suffocating, choking in my own fluids.

The woman crouches down. Please help me, help them! Her black case clicks open near my ear. I glimpse a flash of metal as she turns my head to the side, toward my bright ruined truck. I’m gasping, trying to pull in air. With my head turned, blood gushes more forcefully out of my mouth. Her plastic gloves are cold, prickling the back of my neck.

But finally I can see Jeremy. He’s on the ground. The rotor wash from the helicopter’s blades blow his fine blond hair around his still face. The man kneels at his head. They’re helping him. He’s not gone if they’re helping him. My sight blurs behind a wash of gritty tears. Another man is crouched beyond him, taking care of Tyler. But if they’re taking care of Tyler that means its Jeremy who’s gone. Or maybe they’re both gone. Nobody has commented on the condition of the last victim. I have no idea if the men are helping the boys. Help them! All I can see is the end of Jeremy’s long legs, his scuffed sneakers. His laces are untied, the ends flapping in the backwash.

Begin the Extractions I hear a man say, and I hold onto the hope that it’s my brother they are saving.

A slight pressure pools at the base of my neck. Cold, cold liquid stings through my veins. There’s a snap inside, something tearing. Then pain, incredible pain rips through my spine like somebody reached in, grabbed it, and pulled it out through the back of my head. My entire body jerks off the ground. Everything explodes in red, the same red as my truck, the same red as the blood the guy beside Jeremy is kneeling in. The man closes his black case and stands to leave. Leaving my brother on the red red gravel.

I don’t know what anything means beyond the red and the ice cold current stabbing through my spine and the breath I can’t get past the liquid closing my throat, bleeding everything away. Gone. Jeremy is gone. They’re giving up on him. No. My world, the redness of everything turns black and liquid rolls down the side of my nose. No. Help him. They have to help him. The whop-whop of the helicopter fades into the slowing beat of my pulse and whatever has started tearing inside me suddenly rips fully away taking me with it.

~~~

I pull out of the dark into subdued light and white walls. The pain is gone, completely gone. The edges of the world are hazy. I feel funny. Where am I? A hospital, I think from the plain walls and low buzz of machinery. Alone. I’m alone.

No, not alone. I’m in one of those long rooms with several other beds, twenty or so. All but two are occupied with other patients. It’s too dark to make them out well. There aren’t any windows. Just darkness and dim lighting coming from small muted bulbs above each bed. All the patients look young from the few faces I can see or the smaller shapes beneath blankets. This must be a children’s hospital. I’m in the last bed on the end near the door.

I shift up enough to raise my head from the pillow to look around and the relief that I can move, that blood isn’t filling my mouth anymore makes me dizzy.

Jeremy, I call out. My voice rasps, tissue paper thin. My throat is dry like I haven’t used it in a long time but it doesn’t hurt. It just sounds funny.

The figure in the bed next to mine props up on an elbow. It’s a guy about my age, maybe a little older. I can tell by his build though I can’t see him well. Tyler? My throat catches. Maybe he’s all right.

The guy swings his legs over the side of his mattress and pads to my bed on bare feet.

What did you say? he whispers. Who’s Tyler?

My boyfriend. I think. Angry words between us flood my head. We’d been fighting in the truck when I flipped it. I can’t remember straight. I think I broke up with him. I had intended to though I’m not sure I actually made it that far before the truck jerked and the world went spinning. I shake my head, trying to remember. He would have been brought in with me. I look up at the guy. And my brother…

Shhh, he hisses so hard it startles me quiet. He runs a hand back through his hair. You remember. It comes out, a shaky plea.

Please. I need to—

Shhh. Don’t say anything else. He leans down to get right in my face and I see him clearly. He’s, well, beautiful about covers it. Almost. It startles me as much as his shushing had. His is a pale face of sharp angles softened by large brown eyes and shiny dark blond bangs scooping low across his forehead. His eyes are intense, his voice low. Listen to me closely. You are not supposed to remember anything. Like an amnesiac. Okay? Pretend. You have to fake it or they will take your memories away.

I blink. What is he talking about? What’s going on? Why would I—

The door at this end of the long room clicks, the knob turns.

The guy’s hand curls around my wrist almost painfully. This isn’t a joke. You’re whoever they say you are.

He lets go and straightens just as the door swings wide. The woman from the helicopter after the accident steps through. Her brown hair is pulled neatly back in place in a low straight ponytail. Her black uniform is neat and clean. Her impassive face lifts to the boy’s. Mitchell, why are you out of bed?

The guy’s features have completely transformed into something without emotion. She woke up. She’s loud. It was annoying.

The woman’s angled brow arches. You thought you’d put her back to sleep?

Mitchell shrugs one shoulder.

Go back to bed, Mitchell. I’ll take it from here.

Yes, Helena. Mitchell gives a tight nod and turns on his heels to climb onto his own mattress where he slides down to his side, facing the other direction.

The woman, Helena, comes to the end of my bed. Katherine, how are you feeling?

My gaze wrenches from the boy’s back to her. Katherine? You’re whoever they say you are. I… There is a pit in my stomach, pressing tightly to my insides, warning to play along. But that’s stupid. My name isn’t Katherine. They should know that. I’m…fine. I think. Where am I? What’s happened? I don’t understand. I open my mouth to ask about my brother, ask where my parents are, but my gut twists.

Something flashes in the woman’s expression and then is gone just as quickly. Of course you don’t. I know this is hard. You’ve been ill for a very long time. But don’t worry, we’ll take very good care of you. It’s time for your shot anyway.

Shot?

She smiles kindly. Just a booster. Nothing to worry about. Taking my arm she knots a plastic tie around it and taps the inside of my elbow, looking for a good vein. I blink, staring at my arm. Something’s off but I don’t know what. Everything’s so blurry. I flinch as the needle slides into my flesh. The woman watches my face as she pushes the plunger in and then sets the needle aside on her little tray. We’ll talk in the morning, but for now get some sleep, yes? No more disturbances.

It isn’t a question. That much I get. Sliding down under the covers, I nod and close my eyes.

I feel her watch me for an uncomfortable length of time before her shoes whisper across the floor and the door squeaks open and closes behind her.

Opening my eyes, I rub at my arm. The injection site throbs. The tray is gone.

Mitchell, I whisper, wanting more answers. He owes me that for going along with whatever this is. Mitchell.

I can tell by the rigid line of his spine that he isn’t asleep, but he also doesn’t turn back to talk to me. Whatever. Next time Helena comes in, I’ll get this sorted out.

~~~

In the morning, Mitchell’s bed is empty, the mattress bare, stripped of sheets and blanket.

I’m different. I don’t know exactly how, but I feel different. I am different. I don’t look the same. Although there aren’t any reflective surfaces to see my face, my body is radically changed, thinner, paler. I wonder if I’ve been in a coma or something from the accident, asleep so long I’ve wasted away in a muted room without any sunlight. Which would account for my parents not being here. Have they been called yet, told I’ve awakened? Are they on their way?

Except I know it’s more than that. I pull the blanket off, lift my arms. They are different. My toes and feet have a different shape altogether. The second toe that is longer than my first toe is now shorter, the scar on my ankle from getting tangled in barb wire two summers ago is gone. A slow shiver works its way through my body. I flex my feet. It’s weird that they actually move because they aren’t my feet. I try and fail to come up with any explanation that makes sense. Skin grafts? Artificial limbs? How badly had I been hurt when my truck rolled?

Some of the other beds that were occupied last night are empty as well. I study the rest of the kids, mostly sleeping lumps beneath blankets, and try to find Tyler and Jeremy. I’m hesitant to get out of bed and look for them among the others.

Some kind of nurse comes in and takes my vitals. I hesitate to ask her what is going on, to let her know they’ve made a mistake, that I’m not this Katherine they think I am. Our charts must have gotten mixed up. But something keeps me from speaking up. Like Helena, the nurse also wears her hair pulled back from her face, collected into a severe knot at her nape. She barely says a word and gives me some clothes, a gray top and pants similar to athletic warm-up sweats, with a matching jacket, and white sneakers and socks, and then directs me to a small locker room with instructions to quickly change out of the thin hospital gown.

There’s soaps, shampoos, towels, combs, and elastic bands provided along the counter by the sinks. There’s only one mirror. A hand mirror over by the soaps. Everything’s in neat, tidy rows, the towels folded precisely the way Mom has struggled and failed to get me to fold them. I change quickly. I just want to know what’s happened to Jeremy and Tyler.

That tight wad of fear pulls at my belly. Gone. That woman, Helena, had said one of them was gone.

A man is waiting outside the locker room. He says he’s to escort me to the director’s office but doesn’t offer anything else. We walk through quiet empty hallways. My new sneakers squeak on the gray marble tile. Everything is gray. Except for the man’s black uniform. Gray track suit, gray floor, gray walls broken only by tiny flashes of color within framed watercolor landscape prints and the greens of potted plants in identical silver containers. Even the casings holding the security cameras mounted at intervals along the ceiling are gray.

The director is waiting inside his office with the door propped open. Come in, come in. He ushers me inside and gestures for me to take the hard wooden chair in front of his desk. The guy who escorted me here closes the door behind us with a soft snick.

The office is compact and as meticulously void of personality as the gray corridors, though the walls in here are painted a soft brown.

The director doesn’t fit the cramped room at all. He is large, tall and broad—when he moves back around his desk, he sinks in his wing-backed chair with the fluid ease of movement unexpected for someone his size.

He spreads large palms flat across his clean desk and pulls in a long breath, looking me over like someone hesitant to deliver unwelcome news.

My pulse ricochets like a marble gone wild against my skull.

This must be hard for you. His voice is pleasant, streaked with just the right amount of concern.

Yes, sir.

Pale blue eyes study me, waiting.

I want to ask about my brother, about Tyler, about everything that’s happened. What is this place? Where am I? Down by my thighs, I pinch the material of my gray track suit. I don’t understand what’s going on. That’s true enough. It takes everything to not let Jeremy’s name rush out. I look for a phone. There’s nothing on his desk, not even a laptop.

The director leans back in his chair. How so?

I don’t remember anything. The lie comes easily, born of the wariness in the pit of my stomach. That and the intense brown eyes of a boy I don’t even know. But something is off with this place. With me. The boy’s warning circles my thoughts. Fake it. So I fake it. It won’t hurt anything for now and when I figure out that he is full of crap, I can suddenly have a miraculous memory break through.

Nothing at all?

No. I shake my head. "I’m