Free The 17 by Mike Kilroy Page A

something’s eating at you.”
    “I just know this won’t last.”
    Jenai grabbed his hand and pulled. She was back on her heels, tugging and giggling. “No, it probably won’t. But you should enjoy it while it does.”
    There was a certain undeniable logic in what Jenai had said. The warehouse showdown was over. They were here and they were being rewarded. Perhaps their captors had seen something in Zack’s mercy that they liked. Perhaps Zack had done the right thing after all, even though he so wanted to bring that pipe down on the German girl’s head with full force and fury.
    Zack gave in to the fun. He smiled, grabbed a cherry red bowling ball, his fingers slipping into the holes perfectly, and joined in.
    Self-loathing could wait.
    †††
    Zack had seen a shift in the way the others treated him. Harness was much less bullying. Zill offered to heat up a Hot Pocket for him and even Cass smiled at him between puffs of vapor… once.
    Mizuki was distant and detached. She had been since they came here. Brock was still very Brock-ly.
    Jenai had always treated Zack well and fawned over him more than usual now. Zack was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable around her, though. She was trying too hard.
    She needn’t try so hard.
    He tried to tell her as such, but he couldn’t find the proper words. He knew her well—he was quite like her. She was fragile and over analytical. There was no way to say what he needed to say to her without it coming out all wrong. So he shut his mouth.
    They bowled. They played basketball. They played racquetball and video games. There was a large store of food—delicacies really. Jenai was overjoyed to find some Bethmannchen in a plastic bag in the large refrigerator.
    When Jenai saw them, she burst with joy and let out a high-pitched scream that Zack was sure would shatter the glass vases strewn all about the elegant kitchen. “Oh. My. God. My grandma would bag them up just like this for me to take home.”
    She offered one to Zack and he took a bite. It was really quite good.
    Zack found Olive Garden croutons; Harness had an ample supply of beef jerky; Brock was delighted to see sunflower seeds and tacos; Cass had celery and a large jar of low-fat peanut butter; Zill had pickles; Mizuki had nothing and she didn’t seem to care.
    It was all too perfect and it gave Zack an overwhelming feeling of dread.
    Zack got the sense their captors were placating them, giving them a few days of joy now before they unleashed incredible terror later.
    That thought stuck with him throughout this day, no matter how hard he tried to shake it with croutons and strikes on the bowling alley and flags captured in war-like video games.
    It was a day far better than any since he had arrived here—he still wasn’t sure where here was, even after all this time. The same was true for the others, who smiled and laughed and, for the most part, got along, which was an amazing triumph.
    Zack couldn’t understand why he felt so much angst.
    They sat around the large television on beanbag chairs that swaddled them and on the couch that they sunk into with great comfort. Zill and Cass played a video game Zack didn’t recognize.
    “Heal me,” Zill asked.
    “Heal yourself. You have a stimpak.”
    “I only have one. You have like a zillion. I’m dying here.”
    “You’ll live.”
    Zack glanced at Brock, who sat in his own little corner of the cosmos, pondering deep and profound thoughts with his hands clasped and his index fingers pressed against his lips.
    That usually was a bad sign.
    Brock, those deep thoughts causing his eyes to narrow, finally spoke. “This is too good. This is unsettling.”
    Those words knocked the happy off their faces.
    Zill glared at him as she mashed the buttons on her controller, the sounds of simulated gunfire echoing on surround-sound. “God! Why do you have to be such a buzzkill?”
    “Sure. We won and we are being rewarded, but we have never been rewarded so