Too Good to Be True: Book One of the Beholder Trilogy

By Taylor McConaghy

Fifteen-year-old Myra just wants to go home. Years ago, she was abducted at recess by strange men. Now she shares a small house in the woods with four other victims. Myra, Jason, Amy, Derek, and Alex know the only things that stand in their way of escaping are a chain-link fence and their ingenuity. But what they do not know is that Myra may be the one who secretly holds the key to their freedom.

Unfortunately, every time one of the teens tries to escape, the others are punished with lengthy lockdowns. But when Myra discovers a secret tunnel under a disappearing floor, she decides it is time to rely on her special abilities to help the group. As the teens begin to develop an elaborate getaway plan, Myra suddenly witnesses a flash of something mysterious in the eyes of one of her friends. Now she is uncertain whether everyone is who they claim to beor even if they are on the same side.

In this adventurous tale, just when she thinks she has tasted the sweetness of freedom for the first time in six years, Myra soon realizes that it may just come with a hefty price.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475933246

Taylor McConaghy

Taylor McConaghy is a student, studying fine arts in Alberta, Canada. She has previously published her first novel, ‘Too Good to be True’, the first in the Beholder Trilogy. Taylor lives with her parents, three younger siblings and two dogs. Most of her time is spent painting, reading, and of course, writing. If her friends can’t find her, they know to just look behind a book.

Book preview

PART ONE

THREE YEARS LATER

Myra

CHAPTER 1

My breath condenses in front of my face as I breathe heavily. A shriek sounds across the pavement, sending a chill down my spine. I try to press myself closer to the wall behind me, a wooden crate to my right, only half protecting me. Something moves to my left; my unprotected side. Closing my eyes, I tense my muscles. Who was making that noise? And whose side were they on?

Feet shuffle across the floor, squeaking as they move. My heart beats so loud, I wonder if I’m the only person who can hear it. As the noise quiets, I open my eyes and inch to the end of the crate. Slowly, my whole body tense, I peek around the corner. Something grabs my shoulder.

I spin around, ready to scream, when the grip is moved from my shoulder to cover my mouth and I’m yanked backward. When I realize who it is I relax. my eyes brighten slightly at the sight of him. I shake my head a bit to clear my vision and try to speak.

Mmm-mm!

Jason puts a finger to his lips and lets me go. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. We huddle in the corner for a minute before he moves away slowly. When I open my mouth to talk, he exaggerates another shush to me. Rolling my eyes, I mouth, Where were you? He leans close and whispers in my ear, so softly I barely hear him.

Chased away, almost captured. When he pulls away, he stares intently at me.

Bad? I mouth.

He nods, looking serious. His eyes darken as he thinks about what had happened. Worry crosses his face. I shiver. Jason was never worried. He looks around, obviously looking for an escape route. I hate it when we have to retreat. In the middle of my silent sulking, he taps my shoulder and points to an open window above us. I nod, and as quietly as possible, he boosts me onto a crate. I climb up, and then carefully flip myself, dropping onto the grass below. I only wait ‘til Jason’s legs come through the window when I bolt. Jason easily catches up. We keep running until we see a low chain fence and sit down, panting.

So, Jason says. Where were you?

I saw them, I say, still catching my breath. Their backs were to me, and I bolted, I pause and take another deep breath. Then I saw more of them, so I had to lie low. My heart was finally slowing down.

My, Jason uses my nickname. That’s not always a good thing. My, I think we’re just gonna have to wait for next time.

I sigh. Like I thought, not always good news.

We will find a way Myra, don’t worry.

He puts his hand over mine and I feel the warmth seep into me. I like it when he tries to cheer me up, but in his voice I can hear that he doubts what he says.

I just wanna go home, I mumble, a tear sliding down my cheek.

Jason, three others and I are trapped here. Behind that highly guarded storage unit we were just in is the only way out of here. We all have something in common, we were all stolen. I was taken when I was ten years old. Men showed up at recess, shoved me into their car and took off. That was four years ago. Jason is fifteen, one year older than me. He’s never talked about how he came to be at the facility; he’s only ever talked about escape. The others don’t like to talk about how they were abducted either, but I’m sure it was just as traumatic for them as it was for me.

Hey, don’t cry, he says in an unwavering voice, his eyes softening. We will get out of here. With his fingers, he turns my chin towards him. Trust me.

Taking a breath, I nod, wiping my eyes. He stands up and holds out his hand. His face is hopeful, even though I know inside he’s as twisted with sadness and worry as I am. Yet, he’s always able to make me feel better. I take his hand. Ten minutes later, we arrive at the small house nestled in the woods. Jason and I walk in to see Amy and Derek. Alex is probably hiding in his room. Eagerly, both Amy and Derek bombard us with questions.

How was it?

Did you find a way to escape?

Why are you back already?

How–

Nothing. I say, disappointment choking me. We didn’t find out anything new. Another retreat.

I slip off my sneakers and throw my hoodie on the floor. A hand gently squeezes my shoulder. Soothingly, Jason whispers in my ear, Get some rest, ‘kay My? Alex and Amy will try again in the morning.

We usually take turns exploring the forbidden area. Sometimes it’s because we get hurt and need time to heal, but more often it’s because we’re mentally frustrated and exhausted. Calming down, I nod against his chest. Jason holds me for a second then lets me go. He’s right, I know, but my night is filled with dreams of men in black suits, stealing children, escape impossible.

I can feel the warm sun on my face before I open my eyes in the morning. Slowly, I convince myself to wake up, clearing my head of grogginess. My eyes lift open. Breathing deeply and stretching my arms above my head, I shake the last cobwebs of sleep away. Through bleary eyes, I see a familiar figure in my doorway.

Spying on me, are we? I shake my head and smile. Jason walks up to my single bed. No, I’m just checking on you, he smiles back.

I sit up, my white nightgown catching on the old, scratchy blanket. Silently, I hate those men for giving us such crappy things, but at least we had them. Both Amy and I got a girl’s clothing catalogue, and the boys got one for them. It was more of a pamphlet with only a few different choices of color and styles. This was pretty much the only choice of things in our lives now.

Jason sits at the end of my bed. How’d you sleep? He looks as messy as I’m sure I do, minus the guaranteed rats nest of hair on my head.

The usual, not well enough.

I move a slightly crumpled, well-used book off the side of the bed to the small nightstand beside it. This book has served as my friend, comforter and journal since I got here. Jason looks around my room, a bit awkwardly. He’s been in here a million times, but ever since Amy figured out that he likes me and I like him, and then spilled to everyone, he hasn’t been as comfortable.

I watch him for a minute, looking how his shaggy brown hair spills over almost into his eyes, which are the color of warm, rich cocoa. He’s tall and thin, but not scrawny. I mean, not that I’ve noticed his broad shoulders and strong arms or anything.

A familiar, tasty smell wafts into my room.

Smells like Derek’s making breakfast, Jason notes, then gets up and walks to the door. Coming?

I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, walking to my dresser. Be there in a minute.

He smiles, then walks out, closing the door behind himself. From the few outfits I own, I grab some jean shorts and a plain white t-shirt. After quickly getting through the washroom, brushing my teeth and splashing some water on my face, I pull on my shorts and yank the shirt over my head. Back in my room, I turn to the mirror to brush my hair. I take a deep breath and hold it, puffing out my cheeks. I let it go and blow it upwards, poofing my hair out of my face. I’ve never been in love with my hair, but I haven’t really hated it either. It’s just there. Sort of between dark blonde and light brown and long. Pretty straight, but sometimes I get ‘super lucky’ and it comes up with this kinky wave sort of thing and all I want to do is wear a hat those days. Or maybe a paper bag. My eyes I’ve always kind of liked, though. They’re really dark brown and I think they look like sparkly, shiny pools of melted dark chocolate. I’m not particularly tall or short and I’m a bit on the skinny side. But I think I have great skin; I’m all Caucasian, but I have darker skin that tans at the first ray of sun in the spring.

I make a face at myself in the mirror, then walk out into the kitchen/living room. There are seven rooms in the house; five bedrooms, the kitchen/living room, and (unfortunately) one washroom. The kitchen is basic, with a fridge, stove, oven and microwave. The only thing in here that really gets used is the fridge and microwave. There is no dishwasher, but we each only have one set of dishes, so they don’t really pile up. There’s a table with six chairs around it, and a window with a view of the forest. The living part of the room is equally furnished. A couch, love seat and a recliner that we all tend to fight over. There are two big windows in the room that also give a great view of the forest. That’s pretty much all we can see in any direction of the house. There’s even a t.v. on a small stand against one wall. There’s a small collection of dvd’s, but there’s no cable or satellite or anything. None of us can sit still that long anyway. Usually part way through the movie, most of us are already looking for other activities. Just sitting and watching something isn’t enough for any of us.

Jason and Derek sit at the table eating toast and fruit. Food isn’t exactly plentiful around here. We were given a weekly box of food that didn’t last a week unless we were careful. I guess our captors didn’t want us stockpiling. Every so often there were some books in with the food. There was always some kind of workbooks, too, covering math, science, language arts and stuff, but we only did those when we were super bored. Which was actually more often than you might think. But we didn’t really have to work at them. Even though we were all pretty young when we were abducted, it didn’t take much to figure out the questions. Either they were pretty easy, or we were all pretty smart.

I grab a plate, fork and knife and sit down next to Jason.

Good morning, Derek says, looking up from his food.

Morning, I reply. Though it isn’t, is … I trail off. It wasn’t worth it, and I’d only get the ‘It’s-going-to-be-fine’ speech. Never mind.

Silence crosses the table. I look up and Derek meets my gaze. He gets up and puts his plate by the sink, then walks into his room, closing the door quietly behind him. And then there were two. I sigh.

Suddenly, gunshots, sirens.

Aw, crap! I cry.

CHAPTER 2

I rush over to the window in a panic. I’d forgot about Alex and Amy. They must have snuck out early this morning for their ‘reconnaissance mission’. Jason comes up beside me to watch. Sure enough, the ‘men in black’ as we call them, come up to the little house with the twins beside them. They’re disheveled and bleeding, but alive. I sigh in relief. Never in my life do I want to re-live Caren. I can’t take another death of one of my friends.

Nothing is said. We all know what happens now. The doors will be locked and the window alarms activated. It all lasts four days, two for each ‘escapee’. Amy’s face is stained with tears, and her shirt front and legs smeared in blood. Thankfully it looks like the blood is just from small cuts and a nose bleed. Alex looks about as good. We let them lock themselves in their shared room. It’s practically tradition to lock ourselves away for the day now, to be alone with our frustrations.

Walking over to the couch, I let myself fall back onto it. Tentatively, Jason sits next to me. Close next to me. He puts his arm around me and, not saying a thing, I lean into him, hoping for some comfort. Wrapping his other arm around me, he pulls me close as we both silently sulk about another failure.

What happened? Derek demands, coming out of his room.

I sigh, annoyed, and push myself closer to Jason, while turning away from Derek and his questions. I listen as Jason quietly explains the situation, thinking how glad I am that he is here. He is the only person I really trust. The only one who I feel really understands me. I lay on the couch, fiddling with my cell phone. Yeah, I have a cell phone. I had it with me when I was abducted, and it was never taken away. I soon figured out they didn’t care if I had it; it didn’t work here, even before the battery was dead. It just … makes me feel a tiny bit of power, having something from the outside world with me.

I sigh again and toss the phone beside me on the couch. The summer sun bursts through the window. My whole body begs to be outside, but it is now impossible.

For some.

I feel my excitement rise so much, I can almost feel my eyes glowing. Getting up, I pull Jason’s hand to get him to follow and shush him when I see he’s about to speak. We go to his room and I shut the door behind us.

O-kay, Jason says, looking at me strangely. What’s up?

I sit down on his bed. Almost immediately I pop back up again and start pacing.

I can’t stand to be cooped up in here, I reply, bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet.

I know Myra. Me too. But there’s no way–

But there is, I cut him off.

I barely look up at him, trying to contain my excitement from bursting out. Jason looks at me like I’m a little crazy.

What’re you talking about?

Where was I last time? You know I can’t be in my room for that long. Remember? You said you knocked and knocked at my door but it was locked and I wouldn’t answer. You thought I was mad, but the truth is, I wasn’t in my room, the last part comes out in a whisper.

You’re serious? You’ve left during lockdown? How? Jason’s eyes sparkle; I know he’s in. I can hear someone moving around outside his door.

Tonight. My room. Midnight, I whisper and get up to leave, then turn back. And bring shoes and a coat.

A knock at my door makes me look up from my sketching. Hmm, I mumble to myself. I glance at the clock, thinking I lost track of time, but it’s only quarter to twelve. I roll off the bed and go to the door. I crack it open and see Jason standing there, a silly grin on his face. His eyes shine in the dim light. I roll my eyes at him as I open the door wider.

Excited? I ask sarcastically.

Oh yeah! He sees my expression. What?

You look like a kid in a candy store, I say, smiling and trying to hold back a laugh. Jason tries to lose the smile a bit, then gives up.

Okay, so, cast your magic spell or whatever so we can get outta here!

I fold my arms across my chest and raise my eyebrows at him.

Sorry, sorry, he mumbles, raising his hands in front of him, palms facing out. He knows I hate references to spells, magic, witches … anything of the sort. When I first got here, the others heard snippets of conversations from the medical staff we went to see for our yearly physicals. The doctors and nurses were never chatty with us. They only said things like, say ah and take a deep breath. But behind the curtain, we could sometimes hear them talking to each other, comparing results and writing notes in our files.

Once, Amy and Alex came home from their appointment, and Alex wouldn’t meet my eyes. Amy avoided being in the same room with me for days, until finally I demanded to know what was going on. They told me they heard the staff talking about me and my ‘abilities’ and one of the doctors called me a witch. And not in the mean way. Like a witch, one who casts spells and stuff.

The others in the house laughed it off, and just called me talented. I really wasn’t much different from the rest them in the house. But, it was true, that before I was abducted, I was always a bit different than the rest of my classmates and friends. I aced tests I never studied for, jumped higher, ran faster and had a very keen intuition. Teachers were always questioning me about the tests and how I did so well on them. My gym teacher thought I was a prodigy and was always pestering me to join teams and go out for track and field and such.

So, between some people thinking I constantly cheated, and others who silently (or not so silently) resented me for taking away their spotlight in gym class, the word ‘witch’ or ‘freak’ came up a few times. There’s the imagination of elementary school kids for you. But I’m not a witch. I couldn’t have been ‘casting spells’ as one crazy teacher once claimed.

Could I?

Can I?

Here, I walk to my bookshelf. Help me move this.

I look at Jason expectantly, and he comes over with an ‘I’m sorry’ look on his face. I give him a reassuring smile and we shove the heavy piece of furniture over until we see … nothing. Just empty floor.

Oh. Ha ha, Jason snorts.

I shoo him back a bit, so he’s standing off the newly cleared area. A section of the floor suddenly slides back and disappears. He stands there, gaping, and I stand there wishing I