Jaden Baker by Courtney Kirchoff

opening was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

four
     
     
    Jaden was drowsy, his body relaxed and his breathing steady. But he wasn’t totally at peace, for he was nauseous. Acid in his stomach lapped like water on the shore. Waking felt impossible. Only the pain in his gut stopped him from drifting into sleep again.
    Blurry images of two hooded men floated behind his eyes, with a high-pitched mechanical whine playing as background music. Phantom memories. They were wisps, impossible to catch and see. They slithered in and out of his mind. It had all been a nightmare. A new and vivid nightmare.
    When he opened his eyes, he’d be in bed. Through his window he would watch neighbors walk their dogs, trailing them with plastic poop-collecting bags. Because he lived in a nice area of town, with kind people. French toast, potato salad, green lawns.
    But he didn’t open his eyes. He concentrated with his ears, listening for barking dogs, birds chirping, for the occasional car. If the two men were not real, and his imagination had outdone itself, he would hear a bird or a bark—a realistic and boring signifier of suburbia.
    He heard no such noise, not even the sound of plumbing, or of windows settling in their frames. Instead he made out a low buzzing and nothing else.
    Awareness came gradually. The skin on his right forearm was raw, like he’d scraped it on asphalt. When he swallowed, he felt constricted, as if he wore a too tight turtleneck. His palms were stiff and sore.
    A wave of nausea punched him.
    Jaden opened his eyes, tossed off a blanket, swung his legs out of bed, but stumbled and fell, his legs collapsing underneath him. His stomach churned but the fall had not hurt him: the floor was padded.
    Groaning, he lift his head.
    This wasn’t his room in Napa.
    He was in a large space. The padded walls and floor were almost gray. Ahead of him was an alcove with a toilet inside. Jaden reached his hands and crawled toward it, like a dying cockroach missing some legs. The nausea worsened, the toilet loomed further away.
    A loud clanking sound made him slap his hands to his ears. He turned his head toward the noise but the edge of the bed blocked his view. Two seconds later shiny shoes came toward him. They stopped a foot from his face. Dark gray trousers stretched up, revealing black socks and skinny ankles. A man squatted.
    Jaden dropped his hands and craned his neck.
    The man’s face came into focus as Jaden looked up at him.
    His gently wrinkled skin was well tanned. He had reddish brown and somewhat wavy hair with flecks of blonde and gray. Eyes of bright electric blue crinkled into a smile. He laughed under his breath, heaved Jaden up by the armpits, and helped him to the bathroom.
    The moment Jaden’s knees hit the floor, his chest constricted and he vomited into the toilet bowl. He gripped it and hurled until the imaginary fist pushing his chest released him.
    Jaden slid away and rest on the wall. He was sweating, or maybe he had always been sweating and just noticed it. Water was running. He opened his eyes. The shiny shoed man was wetting a wash cloth in the sink. Jaden felt frail, his arms and legs tingly.
    “The nausea and sweating is expected,” he said, his voice rich and smooth. “The drugs we gave you are lingering in your system. You should feel better soon.” He rung the cloth and kneeled down to wipe Jaden’s forehead.
    Jaden pushed him away and scooted into a corner.
    “I’m sure you have questions. It’s okay to be scared, but I’m not going to hurt you.”
    Jaden’s brain was finally catching up with him, and his body reacted appropriately. He was rendered deaf, the pounding in his ears unbearable, his breath short and quick. His hands shook.
    “Calm down,” the stranger said in a soft voice. “Just take it easy, Jaden.”
    Hearing his name caused a reaction. As the stranger offered a hand to help him stand, Jaden leapt off the padded floor and lunged past the man. But his legs