The Exiles (Book 1 of the Exiles Series)

Prologue

A boat shot its way through the waves of a great expanse of water on a dark and stormy day. Whitecaps trickled over the thin metal rail and sprayed the passengers of the ship with smelly sea water. There were not many of them on board, but the boat was too small for its purpose. No one had their own space. There were only ten of them on the deck, but it felt like there were thousands.

Someone screamed and flailed near the edge. "Cut it out," whined an exasperated girl's voice. The throng was so thick that nobody could see the annoying jokester or the girl. The girl sighed and walked away. She was small and thin and had hair the color of dark chocolate. She pushed through the mob and found a place for her near the driver's cabin.

It was quiet and secluded. The girl gave a small smile to just herself and settled in a ball beneath the cabin's eaves. She could hear voices coming from inside, the words blocked to her ears by the thick metal walls that separated the captives from the captains, two men.

Everyone on the dinghy was here for one reason, and one reason only: they were criminals. Everybody on that ship had committed a crime of some sort. For the girl, that had been yelling in her school. She had refused to do the work. She was tired and she was sad. Her sister had mysteriously gone missing one night--she suspected somebody knew something, but if they did, no one was talking. When had that happened, now? Almost four years ago, yes, she remembered now. 1,461 days prior.

Even with the great expanse of time since it had happened, the girl could still recall that terrible night. Her mother's screams. The uniformed guards leading her older sister away as she struggled to escape their grip. The memories were almost too painful to relive, sending a deep ache of pain throughout the girl's whole abdomen.

Nicole. Her sister's name crossed her mind so suddenly it sent a chill of fright up her spine. She knew her sister was out there. She knew that Nicole was alive. The government Officials had said there was no way to free a prisoner, or get one back before their sentence was up. There was no use trying, they said. But the girl believed otherwise. That's why she had screamed. No one understood. They thought she was insane. The girl just wanted her sister.

Suddenly there was a creaking noise. The girl looked up, jostled from her thoughts. As she watched, a door opened on her right. A burly man in all white clothes stepped out of the cabin. He was carrying a tray laden with small, clear cups of liquid.

"Juveniles," he thundered. The passengers stopped what they were doing, (mostly thinking and staring vacantly out at the rough waters,) and stared at the man.

"Line up," he commanded. His cold eyes found the girl and prodded her up, sensing her hesitation. "You, too," the man confirmed to the girl. It was like he thought she was special, the girl thought, though in this disgusting place she was just a number, a single statistic among many thousands. The girl, the number, snorted but reluctantly stood up from her spot and stepped out into the rain where the others stood. The other criminals' eyes bored into her as she trudged toward the group.

Once the girl was accounted for, the captives scurried about into a cramped, but neat, line. The man seemed pleased and a hint of satisfaction, the ghost of a smile, crossed his face, which was riven with worry lines. He strutted to the end of the line and began passing each person a cup.

"Drink them," he ordered, his voice low and venomous. The girl thought that his quiet, measured words were even more frightening than if he had yelled, but nevertheless a lean, calm-looking boy raised his hand.

"Sir, what for?" he drawled, in a bored, carefree way meant to be intimidating. The girl stared at the ground. She was not meant to be here with these delinquents. What she had done shouldn't have even been considered a crime!

"It will help you on the island," the captain said simply, though the girl sensed a lie in his twitchy, papery lips.

That was where they were going, after all: an island. The teens had been told that they would be placed on an island far from societal life, so they would be, as the Government put it, "minimally disruptive." They would be there for varying amounts of time, the girl for a year, and that was all. If the girl had not chosen to go here, she would be in a musty prison cell instead, where she would have no chance of finding her sister. A spark blazed inside of her still, a shred of hope that her sister was alive and on this island. She refused to let it go, no matter what anyone else, Government leader or not said or did.

The boy shrugged and took a glass from the tray. Others gazed into their cups with looks of disgust on their faces. Eventually, as the girl watched, those captives tipped back their heads and poured the dark liquid down their throats.

The girl took note as the captain hurried closer. The drinks began to decrease in number. For a tiny second, a bit of panic sent butterflies spinning through her stomach. What if there aren't enough? the girl wondered. She knew nothing about what the drinks did or if it would help her, but something told the girl they were important, however sinister.

Eventually the captain stood in front of the girl, so large that not even the light from the sun seemed to be able to shine around his bulk. He gave the girl a stony expression, his dark eyebrows knit with fast approaching anger. She stared confidently back, though her insides withered.

"Well, take one," urged the man, his eyes dark pits. His voice was higher than the girl thought natural and nasally. Under normal circumstances, the girl would've laughed at the irony of it. But this government man was of extremely high rank, she could tell by the way he carried himself and by the pins on his shirt, and something told her that she would get in serious trouble if she was caught in an act of pointless defiance. So, the girl reached out for one of the goblets.

She swiped it away and peered into the glass. Her stomach churned. The cup was filled to the rim with a thick, black, smelly liquid that reminded her of sludge. She sniffed at it like a gingerly cat. A wave of nausea swept over her. The mysterious liquid smelled of rubber and what the girl imagined death would smell like. The liquid bubbled innocently, as though unaware of its own disgustingness.

Those around her were doing the same thing. "Nasty!" one kid mumbled, holding the cup as far away from her face as her arms would allow. The girl's hands were shaking and clammy. She felt her face pale. The girl took a deep breath and held it, trying to make the horrible odor vanish.

"Drink it now!" the captain commanded her and several others. The look on his face told the girl that he was growing impatient. She took another gulp of air, feeling the burning sensation in her throat and eyes that could only mean tears were seconds away. She could not cry in front of these people. Determined to avoid a meltdown, the girl shut her eyes, plugged her nose with her free hand, and opened wide.

She chugged all the liquid in one swig. Immediately she doubled over, tasting bile in her throat, and retched. The liquid tasted worse than it smelled. She couldn't have even described the taste. It burned her tongue and throat, a white-hot pain so terrible she couldn't even scream. Instead she cursed and dropped her cup.

She drifted out of consciousness for a few seconds. When the girl opened her eyes again, she was laying on the deck. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred with tears. She felt a shadow above her just as something warm and wet dripped down her cheek.

"Good," said the man. There seemed to be hundreds of him all around her, hundreds of voices making her ears ring. Her eyelids grew heavy and closed, even though she knew she wasn't tired.

"There it is," said a new voice, probably the other government worker on the ship. The girl groaned, wondering why that person hadn't been the one to pass out the liquid instead of the sadistic captain.

"Wonderful," said the captain, his voice light. "We are here." The island, the girl knew, but felt nothing, nothing at all but the slight tossing of the ship in the waves. This was the last thing she thought before the sea turned black and the waves swallowed her whole.