Robin Jarvis-Jax 02 Freax And Rejex by Robin Jarvis Read Free Book Online Page A

How has it affected your life and that of your family and friends?”
    Jody shrugged. It was obvious she was afraid to criticise any aspect of the book. “Just didn’t work on me, that’s all,” she answered evasively. “It didn’t work on none of us in here. We’re duds – rejects.”
    “That isn’t true!” Kate said sternly. “You’re the innocent victims of some mass hysteria, a nationwide sickness that we haven’t been able to understand yet. But it is containable. I’m going to use this report to ensure you all get away from this country, to places of safety where this won’t ever touch you. The UN is going to intervene and begin putting everything right.”
    The older children turned their eyes away. They had experienced too many crushed hopes in recent months to invest in any more. The youngerones, however, grew excited. One of them punched the air and another cheered.
    “Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens,” Jody mumbled with weary sarcasm.
    Kate knew exactly what she meant. Pity and promises weren’t what they needed. But first things first…
    “This is what’s going to happen,” she told them. “Sam is going to walk down the middle here and I want each of you to look into the camera and state your name, age and where you’re from. Speak up nice and clear – you’ll be famous the world over.”
    Again the hiss sounded at the back.
    The reporter liked whoever that was. At least one of these kids had some fight left in him. She’d get to Nike boy soon, but first she told Sam to start. She knew it was of vital importance to get a record of the kids. Heaven knows what the real intention of the Ismus was, but it certainly wasn’t to give them a fun weekend. She’d stake her life on that.
    As Sam moved down the coach, they heard the noise of another vehicle approaching. Kate stared out and saw a second coach driving up the forest road.
    “More rejects,” Jody observed.
    It turned into the compound and parked close by. Again eager parents came piling out first. Kate saw more wretched young faces left behind in their seats.
    Sam concentrated on the task at hand. The older kids gave their names grudgingly; the ones of around ten and eleven did it with stilted shyness. Most of the youngest stood up to do it, with emphatic nods. Others had to be prompted to speak louder.
    “Daniel Foster, nine and a quarter, Weymouth.”
    “Beth McCormack, Marlborough, twelve.”
    “Patrick… Patrick Hunter, eight… ummm Horsham – twenty-three Elm Tree Grove.”
    “Christina Carter, I’m seven and a half and… I’ve forgotten.”
    “Never mind, honey,” Kate reassured her.
    “Jody, fourteen, Bristol and you’re wasting your time.”
    “Mason Stuart from Ashford, eleven.”
    “Brenda Jenkins, ten, Epsom.”
    “Rupesh Karim, Upton Park, nine.”
    The next child was a thin, frail-looking boy with an ashen face. There was a large bruise on his forehead. Sam made sure the camera picked that up. The boy stared dumbly into the lens, like a startled baby bird.
    “And what’s your name, little buddy?” Sam asked.
    The boy mouthed something inaudible, then murmured a bit louder, “I’m seven.”
    “Tell the folks in the US who you are,” Sam coaxed.
    The boy took a breath and the bruise crinkled as he frowned with concentration.
    “I think I was called Thomas Williams,” he began in a bewildered, faltering voice. “But now… now…”
    “Now? What do your mom and dad call you?”
    “Punchbag.”
    Sam choked. He laid the camera down and put his arms round him. Other children craned their heads round the seats to see. From their envious stares, Kate realised they were completely starved of affection and had forgotten what a hug felt like.
    She clenched her teeth, but banked the anger for later. She’d seen and heard enough. The crass PR stunt that Ismus creep had planned to pull today had blown up in his arrogant face. What good press was he hoping to wring from these abused and neglected