Chapter 3

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The men started to cart us toward trucks. As we got closer, I could see that signs over the entrances to the trucks identified those inside as either “half-bloods” or “questionables.” I looked over to find that Melanie was being dragged over to the half-blood truck. Of course, she already knew where she came from. I, on the other hand, had no idea.

Just as I was getting to the truck, I shouted “Melanie, NO!”

As if right on cue, Melanie started to fight off the guards. I did the same, kicking and punching at the one restraining me. I hadn’t realized that my hands were tied, so my punching was useless. Before any other plan of action could run through my mind, I jumped, sprung off of his chest, flipped backwards, and landed on my feet. It was a surprisingly solid land. I looked over to see Melanie standing over injured bodies. It was needless to say that she was better at this than and, and, at any rate, was much stronger that I was.

Melanie looked over at me ad ran over. She was free from restraints (I suppose she gave her guard less trouble than I had given mine). She spun me around quickly and undid the rope (that’s what I thought it was—her powers couldn’t cut through metal efficiently). She pulled it off of me and threw it. It ended up hitting an official. The man turned around, his face blood red. Melanie and I gulped simultaneously.

The official came over and separated us. He had a guard throw me into the “questionables” truck. As soon as I landed in the back, the doors were shut and the truck sped away.

—-

We sat in silence for an hour. No one dared to say a word as the industrial truck clunked against uneven ground. There was a lot of talk amongst the drivers about a “concentration camp” and “training.” What was this? Was I now a Jew, being put into a concentration camp? Is this what the government was coming to? Isolated torture?

The truck came to an abrupt stop. After another moment of silence the doors came open. A young girl stood up and tried to rush out, but a man snapped his fingers at her and sharply told her to sit, almost like he would to a dog. As soon as she sat down, the guards stepped aside and the same official from the hall entered the area. He gave me a dirty look before speaking.

“AS you all know, the government has been thoroughly affected by the Hazuzaki Rebellion—”

I raised my hand. “I actually just heard about this today—”

“—And we have been sent in top control the half-bloods. We are here to test your abilities, because one, or maybe all, of you might be a half-blood,” He stepped forward to me. “You, young lady, are first.” He snapped his fingers and two men came in and grabbed my arms. They yanked me up and dragged me from the truck, down the sidewalk, and into an unfamiliar building. The men put me in a room and shut the door, locking it in place.

I looked around at the obsolete space. No windows, just a mirror. It was set up much like an interrogation room. I groaned and sat down at the small table. What the hell was I doing here?

The door opened, and a burly man came in. He set a small stack of folders down on the table and waddled over.

“Ms. Delilah Jade Durman,” he introduced in a deep, throaty voice. He slid the top folder over to my side of the table.

I flipped the folder open and gasped. They had all kind of information on me. Where I lived, why I went to juvenile hall, everything. I looked up at him. My hands were shaking.

“Where did you get all of this?” I asked, eyes squinted.

He raised his eyebrows, and scratched his thick mustache. “We have information on all the people we suspect are half-bloods,”

I pushed the folder away. “What if I’m not a half-blood?”

He laughed. “I guess we’ll have to find out,”

I scrunched my eye brows together. “How?”

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