Free Hunted by Christine Kersey Page A

She, along with Billy Foster, assaulted an Enforcer during their brazen escape from Camp Willowmoss just days ago.”
    “Hear that, Morgan?” Billy grinned. “We’re ‘brazen’.”
    “Shut up.” I didn’t like what they were saying about my family. Even more, I didn’t like the way the Enforcers were approaching the front door. They lined up in two groups, one group on each side of the door. Why were they there? Did they really think Billy and I were inside?  
    I imagined what it would be like if we really were inside and the Enforcers were waiting to storm the house. Would we be able to run out the back? More Enforcers were certainly waiting there. I hoped they hadn’t hurt Goldie, who would be upset that strangers were threatening her family.
    What would they do to us if they caught us, anyway? Would they just take us back to Camp Willowmoss? Or maybe to a F.A.T. center with tighter security? How would I get out in time to get back to the tunnel if that happened? I’d be stuck in this world forever for sure.
    I watched as one Enforcer pounded on the front door. The room was silent as we all watched to see what would happen next. Was anyone even home? It was early evening, so chances were that Mom, Amy, and the boys were all there.
    No one answered the door and I pictured them huddled together in a closet, too scared to move or make a sound. And it was all because of me. If I hadn’t shown up in their world and broken a rule and been a few pounds over my allowed weight, I wouldn’t have been taken to Camp Willowmoss in the first place. And then if Billy and I hadn’t escaped and if I hadn’t stabbed Hansen, the Enforcers wouldn’t be after us. If anything happened to my family, it would totally and completely be my fault.
    My imagination ran wild as I visualized all kinds of outcomes to what was unfolding in front of me live, on television.
    The Enforcers must have gotten tired of waiting, because one of them who held a battering ram stepped forward and slammed the battering ram into the front door. It took two swings, but the door broke off its hinges and fell inward.
    The Enforcers surged through the breach and disappeared from view. My heart pounded and tears filled my eyes as I imagined what was happening outside of the lens of the camera. After what seemed like hours, but could only have been five minutes, an Enforcer came out the front door holding tightly to my thirteen-year-old sister’s arm, and led her down the stairs. Her hands were bound behind her back. The camera zoomed in and I could clearly make out the tears streaming down her face.
    “What are they doing with Amy?” I said to no one in particular.
    “Is that your sister?” Nathan asked.
    “Yes.” I never took my gaze from the TV.
    Just then another Enforcer walked up to the first one and spoke to him, then gripped Amy’s arm. The first Enforcer let go and turned away. I was so busy watching my sister’s face, that it took a moment before I realized who now had custody of Amy. When his grinning face filled the screen, my breath caught in my throat and my stomach clenched.
    It was Hansen. The same Enforcer whose groin I’d kneed the night I’d been hauled to the F.A.T. center. The same Enforcer who I’d stabbed only a few days before. The same Enforcer who had said to me I. Will. Kill. You. That same Enforcer now had my sister. My younger, innocent sister. She hadn’t done anything to him. She wasn’t even overweight. What did they want with her?
    As if he’d heard my question, the reporter spoke. “I’m being told that Mrs. Campbell has agreed to let her daughter, the one you now see in custody, finish Morgan Campbell’s time at Camp Willowmoss.”
    “What?” I shouted as I leapt from the floor. “No way.” I knew Mom would never agree to such a thing. There had to be some other reason she had let them take Amy. Or maybe she hadn’t let them take her. Maybe they’d taken her by force. Was Mom even okay?
    “We’re