The Kidnapped Army Read online

  LUCY HALE AND THE DEPRESSION FORCE

  Book 2:

  The Kidnapped Army

  Also By Shiloh White

  Lucy Hale and the Depression Force, Book One

  The Rogue Agent

  Copyright © 2018 by Shiloh White.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, and not intended by the author.

  You can contact Shiloh by visiting his website.

  www.StaleIce.com

  Praise for the Rogue Agent:

  “Amazing book with lots of thrilling twists and turns that keep you on the edge of your seat...This book is going to mean a lot to people. Can't wait for the next one!”

  “It was a really great first novel! Lucy Hale is a very relatable character who, as a reader, you click with early on. It's a great story looking into the other side of depression, what if it was something a little more tangible that you could fight? What if you had help? It shows the great lengths siblings will go to in order to support one another. Highly recommend!”

  “I couldn't put it down! Had to read through till I was finished. Riveting, great storyline. Can't wait for the next one!”

  “This book was a very different look at depression; through the eyes of a young girl. Fantasy was a great outlet for this girl and made this book much different than what I usually read. There were twists and turns to keep you asking “What is going to happen next?””

  “Amazing writer!!! Awesome book!!! A must-read!!”

  Dedication

  To Uncle Paul,

  who reminded me friends are worth fighting for.

  Contents

  LUCY HALE AND THE DEPRESSION FORCE

  Praise for the Rogue Agent:

  Dedication

  1. I Prologue the Inevitable

  2. With Friends Like This, Who Needs Family?

  3. My Arm and I Have a Talk

  4. Mom Offers Some Delusional Advice

  5. Yes, I’m Painting Skulls. No, It’s Not A Phase

  6. Too Early For Teen Drama? Psh, As If.

  7. The Skull Sends a Lackey

  8. I Dabble In Smuggling…And He Escapes

  9. Anna Suggests I Find Myself First

  10. Chug Takes His Revenge Too Far

  11. Long Spaghetti (Aaaand I’m Ready To Vomit)

  12. Whodunit? The Butler, of Course!

  13. Mr. Reggie’s Pretty Clever—For A Bonehead

  14. Yes, But Is YOUR Secret Base a Bookstore?

  15. They’re Way Better At Smuggling

  16. We Go Looking For Homeless People

  17. Homeless People Find Us…And They’re Zombies

  18. We Should’ve Left The Homeless People Alone

  19. To Fight The Authorities, Or Flee Them?

  20. The Hooded Man Isn’t Homeless

  21. Woodstock Takes A Tea Bath

  22. Your Typical Post-Apocalyptic Chase Scene During A Phone Call

  23. “Attack of the Clones” in Ninety Seconds

  24. Chug Gets in Touch With His Feminine Side

  25. Lara’s Just Full Of Hot Air

  26. I Didn’t Kill Him, But He Better Be Dead

  27. Can We Stop With The Delusions?

  28. We Get a Participation Award

  29. The Good Guys Ruin Everything

  30. Watch Out, This Lieutenant’s A Professional

  31. No, Really. It’s Her Way Or A Jail Cell

  32. My Murderer Breaks Me Out Of Prison

  33. Who Replaced My Paint With Glue?

  34. The Escape Plan Falls Apart…Literally

  35. No One Likes The New Plan? Perfect.

  36. Death Is Not A Joke

  37. When In School, Avoid Detention

  38. Cornered By Justin Bieber’s Prep School Entourage

  39. (Insert Inappropriate Joke About Acid Here)

  40. Worst. Mother. Ever.

  41. We Get Schooled

  42. Do People Even Die Anymore?

  43. No Time For Puns—Running for My Life Here

  44. This Isn’t Fair

  45. No Fighting In the Hall! (Okay, Just This Once.)

  46. How NOT to Hire a Vice Principal

  47. I Take It Back. This Isn’t Fair

  48. You Fly Kites? I Fly Dining Tables

  49. My Speech Brings The House Down

  50. My Depression And I Join Forces

  51. Tornado Alley, Meet Disorder Walkway

  52. Don’t Save Me, Save Him!

  53. Yes. (See Chapter 42)

  54. I Get Good News, and Give Bad News

  55. Just Like Old Times, Sort of!

  56. My Forgiveness Isn’t Cheap

  57. A Cruel Joke And The Ugly Truth

  58. I Make a Probaby Impossible Promise

  59. Paint And Consequences

  60. Hello, Anna, My Old Friend

  61. I Pass The Baton

  62. An Uncool (Get it?) Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  LUCY HALE AND THE DEPRESSION FORCE

  Book 2:

  The Kidnapped Army

  1. I Prologue the Inevitable

  My teeth chattered like clanging cymbals. My fingers threatened to harden and freeze around the paintbrush in my hand. The early morning breeze in the dark sunless sky swooped down every so often just to jab my spine, sending a fresh shiver throughout my whole body.

  I loved every minute of it. I couldn't think of anything better—except actually painting.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make my little canvas portray just what I had an image of in my mind. And this wasn't the first time I'd tried it either. I spent a good hour pacing my room attempting this darn picture.

  It's just your friends, Lucy. You can't paint your friends?

  Apparently not, I thought. Another wind passed by me on the porch and I shivered so much I almost dropped the canvas. I readjusted it and stared at my latest failure

  This time, all of their shoulders looked too blocky. It made them look like they were posing for an Amish portrait. Not what I was going for at all. Also didn't help that a smear of paint went across the front now.

  I set the painting aside and closed my eyes.

  Against the backdrop of my eyelids, I could picture them clearly. Dart, with his mischievous grin underneath the blond mop of hair he wore. Halsey and her elvish features; thin sharp cheekbones shaping her pale face, all illuminated by her smile. And Scott...Scott with his trimmed buzz cut and straight face locked into a single expression, with just a hint of emotion only I could see, right behind his dark chocolate eyes.

  It shouldn't have been this hard to paint all that. I knew them, detail by detail. After all, they'd helped to save my life—and my sister's. Only, the way life was right now, I wasn't quite sure if I was really saved. I couldn't even enjoy painting.

  I heard the front door creak slowly behind me, and turned to see who it was.

  “I knew I heard someone,” said Chloe. What the heck are you doin? The sun's not even up yet."

  “I came out here to get a clear head before school. We both know I'm not getting it in there.”

  Chloe snickered. She did know it.

  “So what's this, then?” she sat down on the step next to me and picked up the horrid sight—I mean, canvas.

  “It's my painting,” I answered. “Or at least, I want it to
be."

  “I don't get it.”

  “Every time I paint it, I get it wrong.” I explained.

  Chloe squinted her eyes and shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “You've been saying that for two months. I get that. But, who are they? I've never seen them before in my life. Anna's the only friend you got.”

  “Thanks,” You could always count on Chloe for a bit of honesty.

  I took the canvas from her to give her the perspective I'd wanted, holding the painting out in front of us. It gave me the impression of my friends coming towards me, to greet me. “They're...friends. I met them when I...”

  The painting felt a lot heavier in my grip, so I lowered it.

  “When you ran away?” Chloe asked. I nodded, pursing my lips.

  We—Dad, Alice, and the two of us—all knew that part, but I still hated hearing everyone bring up that I'd ran away when Chloe was in her coma. It wasn't the real truth. Just a story to keep everyone else satisfied without thinking I was losing my mind even more.

  Chloe knew a little more, though—that I went somewhere and it was important. I only referred to it as another place. Somewhere that wasn't here.

  But I couldn't tell her everything. Not even how she got the single streak of gray in her hair when she woke up from the coma. Because while Chloe knew something a little more, I knew the most.

  I knew all about The Dust and The Depression Force and the Officers that used their powers and abilities to protect people like me from the dark things there like the Depression Agents and their Depression Zones. But darker still, I knew about the forces that clung to the root of that evil, and how they shook me to that core. And I knew to share that news with anyone, let alone my own sister...

  It wasn't right. It might put us in danger all over again. And even if it didn't, she would definitely think I was crazy all over again. I set the painting down and looked my sister right in her eyes, as intense as I could muster.

  “They were with me in that place, Chloe.” I told her. “They helped me, and they protected you.”

  Chloe's eyes lit up. I knew she wanted me to tell her more. I could see her mouth moving, getting ready to ask a question she already knew the answer to.

  “You really can't tell me anything else?"

  I shook my head at her and sighed. “No."

  “Why not?"

  “You know why. I don't want people to think I'm crazy."

  “I won't tell anyone,” Chloe promised. “Not even people at school. Not even Mom."

  “And what about Dad?” I asked.

  Chloe folded her arms and let out a short puff of air into the cold morning wind.

  I couldn't blame her for feeling upset. Chloe shared everything with Dad.

  She'd grown a real bond with him. The same one I used to have with...with my brother. It felt inseparable and right. A bond where you watch out for each other. Nowadays, Dad didn't always return Chloe's effort, but it didn't stop her. Chloe didn't really have anyone in the family. Lucas had just died, Mom left because of him, and I was busy losing my mind, thanks to the both of them.

  “I know you want to tell him,” I said, “but if he found out, he would send me back to therapy."

  Chloe broke my gaze and stared out down the cul-de-sac.

  “Whatever.” she said, pushing herself to her feet. She walked back to the front door. “Speaking of Dad, he's taking us to school today. You went to bed early last night, so I know you didn't hear."

  Then Chloe went inside, leaving me on the porch with the cold winter wind and my disaster of a painting.

  ✽✽✽

  An hour later, I was dressed and in the passenger seat of Dad's car, listening to Chloe complain about Alice. (AKA Mom, for those of you wondering. I don't call her that anymore.)

  “She always asks questions,” Chloe said. “She always wants to know what I'm doing, and it's a little weird. Then she tries to offer things to make it not weird, like ice cream or junk food. But it's still weird.”

  “I agree,” I said to Dad. He kept his eyes forward through the windshield, so I kept going. “I can't stand having her there. She's always trying to be involved in everything. It drives me nuts too.”

  “I don't—” Dad caught himself and stopped. The first sound of his voice was burning; hostile, even. He started again, trying to his voice calm. “Lucy, Alice has actually been a big help in many ways since she showed up."

  Showed up.

  I liked that term. It pretty much summed up what happened. After leaving and disappearing for almost four years, she chose now of all times to show up, wanting to be involved as a loving mom in a great family again?

  Granted, one of her two kids 'ran away' and the second was in a coma at the time, but I didn't buy any bit of it.

  I didn't say any of this out loud, but I must have been wearing the look of disdain on my face, because Dad shrugged.

  “I'm sorry if you don't enjoy her being here, but like it or not, she's done a lot,” he said. He was right about one thing—I did not enjoy her being here. “Willingly, I might add. She volunteered to drive Chloe for the first week of getting back to school, continues to clean the house up, and even helped cover the medical costs for the whole incident.”

  “How practically perfect of her,” I muttered.

  “What was that?” Dad asked.

  “Nothing.”

  I wanted to say, she’s like everything a wife's supposed to be, huh, Dad?

  The only reason I refrained was because Dad would've slammed on the breaks (causing me to literally bite my tongue) and probably made me walk the rest of the way.

  No one said another word until we pulled into Chloe's side of the school's parking lot, when she felt the need to speak up.

  “I don't like how much Lucy yells now that Mom's back,” Chloe said, staring down at her shoes. “I remember Lucas yelling like that when Mom was around.” She didn't have to say anything else for me to catch what she meant—Lucas was gone now. The only part worse was that both she and Dad didn't have a clue how it really happened, or where he was now. I wasn't even sure if he was still there, resting in that darkness between Earth and The Dust.

  I wanted to reach over the chair and give Chloe a hug; to let her know I wasn't going to leave her behind, no matter how mad Alice made me.

  Dad beat me to it. Sort of. He put the car in park and turned to face her.

  “I tell you what,” he said to her, “what if we have the day just to ourselves? I'll pick you two up myself, and we'll go get some donuts or ice cream or something. Just us three.” Chloe nods, the corners of her mouth perking up into a grin.

  “I like that idea,” she said. Then she left the car, taking her backpack and her cheerful grin with her. After a moment of watching her get onto campus, Dad pulled back out into the street and we were on our way to the other side of the school.

  “Lucy,” he said sternly, “you can't talk about Alice like that in front of your sister. She still doesn't understand everything that's happening right now.” I couldn't believe my ears. Did Dad even realize what he was saying?

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Everything at home has been paraded around her like an interactive home video for the past two months, and I'm at fault because I bring it up now?"

  “Lucy, I'm not going to argue this with you right now,” he said, pulling up to the curb. “Just...” he slid his hand along his face, pausing to rest his head in the crook between his finger and his thumb. Dad did that a lot when he was stressed out. I should know. Half the time, it tended to originate from me. But hey, are you gonna be besties with the parent that signs you up for sketchy therapy? I didn't think so.

  “I'll worry about Alice.” he said finally. “Just look out for your sister today, okay? She may think she's better, but I caught her struggling to hold her fork last night. You might have noticed too if you'd join us for dinner once in a while.”

  “I'd rather not spend any more time than I have to with that woman,
” I said in a matter-of-fact-like tone. I grabbed my stuff and stepped out of the car. I wanted to walk away, but some sane part of me stopped me from slamming the passenger door in my father's face.

  “I'll keep an eye on Chloe,” I said, leaning in through the door. The ends of his mouth turned up so slightly, I couldn't actually call it a smile.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  That was all the niceness I could take. I shut the door and marched as far as I could from the car without as much as a wave.

  2. With Friends Like This, Who Needs Family?

  I slumped down in my seat fifteen minutes before the bell. Waiting for the clock to run down seemed to take an eternity. It didn't help that school didn't feel as important when I knew there were people off fighting Depression in the Dust.

  Instead of staring at the seconds tick any longer, I pulled out a blue paintbrush and attempted one of the streetlights I'd seen in De Mentoria, on my left arm. It was proving a lot easier than the portrait this morning

  I went slowly, one small stroke after the next. The coolness of the paint calmed me, helping to forget the worry of the things around me. Then I curved the paintbrush, arcing down into the shape of the streetlight's pole and—no, NO, NO!

  I angled my arm this way and that to see if it was salvageable, but there was no way. The curve I painted for the streetlight was wrong. It made the whole thing look like a broken candy cane.

  I glanced back up at the clock. Four minutes until the teacher would walk in.

  If I hurried, I could rush to the restroom, clean off the disaster on my arm, and start over before class started.

  Unfortunately, I spent too much time thinking and not enough time moving. I'd barely inched out of my seat before two hands slammed down on it.

  “This just in: Three Streams Junior Lucy Hale finally dives back into her normal school habits after a three-week disappearance! Just look at the painting on her arm.”