Chapter Nineteen

Ever

T he guys quickly move the lid off, and I stare in shock, I definitely saw eyes.

“Fuck,” I curse as I let go of Pete’s hand and rush toward the box, “it’s okay, sweetheart, we’re going to get you some help; I’m so sorry if I scared you.”

The little boy, no older than ten, stares up at me with fear in his eyes as he shakes; he is dirty, beaten, and has clearly been in the box for a while, if the smell is any indication. His mouth is taped, and his hands and feet are chained to the bottom of the box, which renders him almost entirely unable to move.

The sound of footsteps approach but I don’t take my eyes off the little boy, instead I talk, hoping that my words help to bring him a tiny modicum of comfort and that he begins to trust me.

“I’m Ever, I’m a secret agent,” I say, “but don’t tell anyone that I told you that.” He doesn’t acknowledge me, so I ask, “Can I take the tape off your mouth?”

He stares at me, and I wonder if maybe he speaks a different language or is so traumatized that he can’t respond, but he slowly nods.

I smile softly, “I'm going to take it off as gently as I can; if you want me to stop at any point, you blink twice or make a noise if you can, okay? And I will stop immediately. We can wait and get some special stuff that will work it off more gently. The reason why I offered to take it off now is because I hated having tape over my mouth and I needed it off immediately.”

His eyes widen slightly as he realizes I may know just a little bit about what it is like to be in his position, but he just nods again.

I slowly and carefully pull back the tape that's covering his mouth. It’s evident that he has had enough pain in his short lifetime, and I refuse to cause him anymore. As I pull it off, he doesn’t even flinch, and when I finally get it removed completely, he licks his dry lips but doesn't speak.

I decide to carry on talking, hoping that I can put him at ease, “That was amazing; you did a really good job; I know fully grown men that haven't handled that as well as you did. So, what can I tell you about me? Oh, I know, I help people like you, we all do,” I gesture to the guys around me who are staying really still, the boy starts to shake again, and I say with a smile that I’m hoping is reassuring, “it’s okay they won’t hurt you. I know that they look big and scary, but they are big softies, really. You see that guy there,” I say, an idea coming to me and pointing at Jensen, who smiles, “he is so clumsy that he trips over air regularly; I’m surprised that he hasn’t fallen over yet.”

Jensen pretends to look indignant but keeps smiling as he says, “Hey, that is just rude. I don’t trip over that reg . . .” Jensen suddenly disappears from sight as he pretends to fall over, and the boy laughs slightly as he pops back up and pretends to look embarrassed.

“Ever,” Trick says as he hands me some giant bolt cutters. The boy's eyes widen with fear, and I have to reign in my anger, so it doesn’t show on my face; if he sees any anger on my face now, he is going to perceive it as anger at him, and I really don’t want that. “These are so we can cut the chains that are trapping your hands and feet. I promise that they won’t hurt you. We just want to get you out of here and somewhere safe.”

Cash steps forward, “Look, we’ll show you, okay.” The boy looks intrigued, and I am curious as Cash puts handcuffs on himself and holds his hands out to me. “There you go, Ever, cut the cuffs.”

I grin and position the bolt cutters so that I can cut the cuffs, gently snipping through all of the parts even when Cash is free to show that I can and that it didn’t cause him any pain at all. As soon as I'm done, I glance back at the boy, and his eyes are full of so much hope.

“Please?” he whispers, his voice broken and hoarse. My heart breaks for the little boy and the innocence that he is lost, and I have to push it away, so I don’t fall to pieces in front of him. He doesn’t need that right now.

I smile as I lean over the edge of the crate and position the bolt cutters carefully, he stays completely still as I make the cuts.

“There you go, sweetheart, all done,” I say gently and watch as he rubs his wrists, which are rubbed raw, oozing, and most likely infected. “Do you need some help getting out?”

He shakes his head as he tries to stand and then immediately falls back down again, his legs too weak to hold him up. He looks up at me somehow looking embarrassed as he nods his head.

I smile gently as I reach for him. “That’s okay; I had to be picked up when they got me, too.”

I was fighting when the guys found me, but that is beside the point; he needs to know that it is okay, and that needing help is nothing to be embarrassed about.

He is tiny due to malnourishment, so it is really not that difficult for me to lift him out. A blanket is handed to me, and I immediately wrap it around him as I put him on a pile of blankets that are on the floor. If he didn’t like me picking him up, he is definitely not going to like me holding him. At least, that is what I assume, but when I move to let go of him, he holds onto me tightly, so instead, I sit down next to him and hold up my arm, giving him a choice. He cuddles into my side with only a slight hesitation, and I wrap my arms around him tightly.

There is a flurry of activity going on around us as the agents are back with crowbars and start to pry open the crates.

“Do you know if you are the only one that was in the box?” I ask him gently.

“There are more,” he mutters, his voice still hoarse.

I look around for a bottle of water, and Cash, seeming to know what I'm looking for, hands me one; I smile in thanks and then offer the bottle to the boy; he takes it gratefully and then downs the entire bottle.

“I’ll get you more, you should probably take it a little bit slowly though since you’ve been unused to too much food or water for a while it might upset your stomach.” I try to explain gently but I really don’t want him to throw up everything that he has just managed to drink.

He nods, “Yeah, I know. That is what usually happens.”

I try really hard not to react to that as, once again, anger burns through me, “Do you want to tell me about it? Also, what did you mean that there are more?”

He glances at me, as if weighing whether he can really trust me, he answers my second question first, “There are more people in the crates, he likes putting us in here as punishment.”

“What? This is how he punishes you? How long have you been in here?”

The boy shrugs, “A couple of days, maybe more, I'm not sure. I wouldn’t fight one of the other kids, and so he beat me and put me in here. To be honest I like it more than being around him, at least I get left alone for a while.”

“Shit,” I hear someone near me curse.

“Do you know who put you in these boxes?” I ask.

“I think he is most well known as Hunt. He killed my mom and my big sister and has been training me, although I don’t know what for,” he replies.

“Yeah, we know Hunt. We are actually trying to stop him now; he killed my mom, too,” I tell him.

He glances up at me, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry about your mom and sister.” I reply, and he nods, his eyes haunted and sad as he looks away, “So, are the people in the crates people who work with Hunt?”

He nods, “Most of them are, some of them are people that asked him for a favor or wanted him to do something for them, and when he fucked them over, and they complained about it, he put them in the box.”

Hearing a ten-year-old swear is jarring, but I am not about to call him on it, not when he has been through so much, and definitely not while he is in pain and traumatized; that would be a dick move. Besides, he used it correctly, and I think he is definitely allowed to curse in this situation.

I glance up, looking at all of the crates that surround us in just this aisle of the warehouse alone, “Do they all have people in?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think so. I know he mentioned that he forgot where he put a couple of people, and when someone asked him if he wanted them to search the warehouse for them, Hunt laughed and said no.”

I shudder, “That is so fucking disturbing.”

He nods, “Yeah, it is.”

Peter crouches down in front of us and smiles his big welcoming smile, “Hey, I’m Pete and I’m Ever’s best friend, well one of them, but out of the best friends I am the best.”

The kid chuckles slightly, “That weirdly made sense, I’m Joe.”

“Cool name I like it, and of course it made sense,” Pete replies, still smiling, “I’m not going to talk to you like a child because quite frankly you’ve seen and experienced more than most grown ups have so I think you need to be spoken to honestly.”

Joe sits up a little straighter, clearly proud that he has been recognized as being spoken to like an adult, “I can handle it.”

Pete nods, “I thought so, but just so you know, I can’t handle some adult things, so if it gets too much, you just tell me, okay?”

Joe nods, “Got it.”

“So, Hunt is known to put these tiny microchips in people, and they track a person and can kill them if he wants them to,” Peter explains a condensed version of what they do but put’s it bluntly, it is important that Joe understands. Peter holds up the scanner, “I have this, it can detect if a person has them or not and where it is. All of the men and women that were in the warehouse that we found had them.”

Joe nods, but tilts his head slightly as he asks, “What happens if you find a microchip?”

Peter smiles, “That is a brilliant question. Well, it is not safe to leave it in there since Hunt can use the chips to kill the person that they are in, listen to them, and know their location, so we take them out. My friend Luc is a medic and can probably explain that to you better.”

Luc nods, and sits down next to Pete in front of us with his medic bag in front of him, “I can do that, so first we find out exactly where the chip is using Peter’s scanner, then I use a little bit of numbing cream over the area before I inject the anesthetic so it’s nice and numb and the person can’t feel anything, then I take this scalpel and make a tiny incision, the chips are smaller than your little fingernail, so it really doesn’t have to be very big, and then using tweezers I gently take it out, and put a little bandaid over it. They are so small that they don’t even need stitches.”

While he’s talking, I realize that he has added the extra step of the numbing cream for Joe, something that we don’t offer anyone else. Of course, the majority of people that we have to remove the microchips on are adults who have done horrific things. They can take a little jab from the needle to give them the topical anesthetic; I think some of them are fucking lucky they get anything.

Joe nods and looks back at Peter, “So, you want to check if I have one?”

Pete nods, “Yes, I do. We want to make sure that you’re safe, but we can't promise that if you have a chip, so we want to make sure, and if you do, we want to remove it so we can keep you safe.”

Joe nods, “Okay, I’m not sure I can stand up though.”

Peter nods, and smiles again as he says, “That’s okay, I don’t need you to stand to do this. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”

Joe nods again looking slightly nervous, and I move out of the way so that Pete can scan him as thoroughly as possible, but hold out my hand to him, giving him the option to hold it. He grabs on to it tightly and I give him a squeeze.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks after a moment.

Peter crouches again, “You have one in your arm, right here.”

“Get it out,” he says firmly. He looks at Luc, “You can do it right. Please get it out.”

“Are you sure?” Luc asks.

The kid nods, “Yes, I want it out.”

“It’s okay, don’t panic,” I say gently, “Luc will get it out. I trust him with my life.”

Joe takes a deep breath, “Okay.”

Luc smiles, “I’m going to talk you through the whole process okay, if you want me to pause or stop at any point, you just say the word and I will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” he nods, his voice small and worried.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” I add.

He looks at me and smiles slightly, “Thanks. Let’s get it over with.”

Luc pulls everything that he is going to need out of his bag and lays it out on one of the blankets, showing Joe each thing and explaining what it is and what it does. Joe listens intently to everything that Cash is saying and even asks a couple of questions.

“Did that make sense?” Luc asks.

Joe nods, “Yeah, it is the numbing cream first, right? So, the needle doesn’t hurt, yeah?”

Luc nods with a proud smile, “Yeah, that’s right. Good job, maybe you could be a medic when you get bigger?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Joe replies, focusing on what Luc is doing.

Jensen

T hat was probably one of the worst things that I have seen on this job, and I am so incredibly proud of Ever and the way that she is handling it. She is amazing, and the boy was almost immediately put at ease. While Luc, Peter, and Ever sit with the boy and attend to his wounds, the rest of us decide to help with opening the crates. We don’t want to scare the kid any more than he already is, and he said that there were more people in the crates.

That is fucking concerning.

“We have got a few crowbars. We had some in the vehicles, but we also found some in one of the side rooms, so we have got plenty,” one of the agents I am not familiar with says as he approaches us and hands us each one from a giant pile that he is carrying.

Trick nods, “Great, the child has said that there is more than just him in the crates. We need to search them all. I have called Mr R and he is sending in more people, EMTs, the works. It is going to be a long night.”

“Fuck,” the guy says, shock overtaking his expression, “I’ll start spreading the word.”

“Thanks,” Trick replies, his expression solemn.

“Where’s Emmerson?” I ask, I honestly have no idea, as soon as I heard Ever scream, I was running, and I didn’t focus on anything else.

“She’s where we found her, someone gave her a blanket and she’s being debriefed by one of the others in case she noticed anything before she charged in here,” Cash explains.

“Got it,” I reply. “She is going to need to stay put for a while, Ever, Luc and Pete are with the kid, and he needs them, he most likely won’t talk to anyone else, he feels safe with Ever. We also need to help open as many of these as possible.”

Trick nods, “Yeah, she knows all that. She is happy staying put.”

“Alright, let’s open some of these crates then,” Atlas says, not looking exactly excited about the prospect.

Not that I am, either. I can completely understand why Ever screamed when she came face to face with eyes. I would have too, and I'm trying to convince myself that I won't yell if it happens to me. I should be alright because I am now expecting it.

“We’ve got a person over here,” Someone yells to Trick, he has automatically become the one that is in charge of this.

The organization doesn’t run on seniority, where the older you are or the more years that you have been with the organization the higher up the chain of command you are. It is done on skills and success rate, and we have a very high success rate, which is why many of the teams weren’t too fond of us in the beginning and are still slightly off with us now. It has gotten a lot better since we saved a lot of their lives when the mole was trying to kill off as many of us as possible. They are at least less combative than they were, and they now automatically accept that Trick is calling the shots in this sort of situation.

It is a lot of pressure, and I have no idea how Trick handles it. I couldn’t do it, but fortunately, no ones ever going to ask me to. At least not on a scale this size.