Redeemed: The Hexon Code, #2

By Jody Calkins

One mistake can ruin everything… until you are redeemed.

Dieran, a young boy who died at the hands of Riverbrook Academy, made a huge mistake. He thought being trapped there was bad enough when he was alive. But now he's dead. And he's got nowhere to go.

For weeks he's been trapped, unable to leave. Unable to move on.

But then one day, a mysterious new property owner shows up at the academy. And weeks later, all the kids, the ones he thought had escaped Riverbrook, return. And to his horror, the blonde-haired girl returns, too.

The new owner claims the experiments on the kids are over. But Dieran knows it's a lie.

Now is his chance to redeem himself. The only problem is, ever since he attacked the doctor, he's been unable to make contact with the living world.

But the girl is there because of him and he won't stop until she's either safe or dead…

Redeemed is the chilling sequel to Shattered, the first book in The Hexon Code series. Look for the third book in the series – Blackout.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jody Calkins
• Release date: Dec 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954708136

Jody Calkins

Author of The Hexon Code. Writer of Dystopian Drama. Pilot's Wife. Arborist. Learning Swedish & Turkish. Cat Lover. Book Addict.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

ONE MISTAKE CAN change your whole life. And sometimes that mistake leaves you trapped on earth after death, sentenced to an eternity of regrets.

I never meant to hurt the doctor. But the knife had been right there in front of me and I had picked it up. He had rounded the corner with the pretty blonde-haired girl and before I knew it he was crumpling to the floor, his legs sprawling out from under him and blood seeping into the front of his shirt. It wasn’t until I heard the girl’s ear-splitting scream that I realized what I had done.

If I could take it back, if I could take away her screams, her tears, and the constant ringing in my ears, I would do it. I would do anything. I knew what it was like to lose someone you cared about, to see them get ripped from your arms and taken away from you. It had happened to me and now I had just made it happen for someone else.

It was my fault.

When I picked up the knife that day, I didn’t know what I was going to do with it. I remember feeling confused by its presence. How had it gotten on the floor? And was anyone actually planning to use it? And if so, who? And for what?

And then I saw the doctor.

I thought they were all the same. Working together to figure out the best ways to make us sick and then analyze the results. But when I watched the girl collapse to her knees and cry as she tried to pull him into her arms, I realized I had made a mistake. I couldn’t imagine her being a part of the administration’s plan to kill us all. Not her. She seemed innocent. Too innocent and kind to play a part.

My biggest fear now was that I would spend an eternity wandering the quiet halls of Riverbrook Academy alone.

I had died a few weeks ago at the hands of Dr. Martin and his team of nurses. I didn’t understand why or what caused my death exactly. I just knew how awful I had felt toward the end. The excruciating pain and weakness. The headaches. The nausea and the vomiting. I had wanted to die just to feel better. And eventually I had.

I think only a handful of kids suspected the truth. The administrative staff had painted a grand picture of me going off to live with a young married couple on their farm in Vermont. The kids believed I’d get to ride horses, feed chickens and pigs, and harvest vegetables. I would have given anything for that to be true. Anything for a chance at life. I wasn’t ready for death and I was too young. But really, is anyone ready for that?

Things were bad at the academy, but I had my whole life ahead of me and there were other kids who made living here bearable.

It was my understanding that once I turned eighteen, if I hadn’t been adopted first, I would be released and be able to live on my own. In the real world, doing real world things. I was too young to have figured out what I wanted to do when I was older. I had spent hours staring out the window in the commons room. All I could see past the gates were trees. An endless view of trees that blocked the early morning sunlight. What was it like beyond the trees?

I could remember sunrises from before. My dad and I used to sit on our porch in the mornings while my mom got ready for work. He’d drink black coffee while I drank orange juice, and we’d sit in silence as the sun rose above the horizon. Then he’d turn to me and say, That’s some sunrise, and I’d nod. Today is a new day, he’d say. And every morning is beautiful.

But now all I could do was imagine it. None of my mornings were beautiful. I was alone. In this dark place. And with nowhere to go.

All because I had made a mistake.

Stabbing Dr. Winden was an accident. But accidents still come with consequences. Now, because of what I had done, I was stuck on earth and wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to move on.

Marris hadn’t done anything wrong. Neither had Cullen. And yet they had been forced to stay until the other kids were taken away. Was it because the blonde girl had been saved? Or was it because the Cattsens had been stopped? Which good deed admitted them into heaven? Did it have something to do with their own goals?

I had seen Marris and Cullen standing together at the front entrance of Riverbrook, watching as the kids were loaded onto the buses. Marris waved, I assumed to the last girl getting on the bus, the one who had seen me in the commons room after my death. When they kissed, I looked away. And when I looked back a moment later, they were gone.

There was an older kid, too, though I didn’t know his name. He had been standing near a thin, old man, the blonde girl, and Dr. Roben from the infirmary. And he had disappeared, too, his body fading into nothingness.

That left only me.

Or at least the only one left I was aware of. I was sure there were others. They just hadn’t revealed themselves.

I can’t begin to describe the loneliness I’ve felt here over the last few weeks since everyone left. I’ve walked every hallway a hundred times over. I’ve walked along the perimeter of the high security fence. Every now and then I find a dead animal lying on the outside of the fence and it makes me wonder what they found so interesting about this place. This place that kills children.

If I can ever leave this place, I hope it’s because my punishment is over. I hope it’s because I’ve been redeemed.

My name is Dieran and this is my story.

CHAPTER 2

AS I LAY on the front lawn, I stared up at the stars, spotting each one as the sky became dark enough to reveal them. I couldn’t stop thinking about how darkness was a necessary evil. You had to lie in the darkness in order to see the light of the stars. And you had to go through death, the darkest of all things, in order to know the truth.

Which is that Riverbrook Academy for Unwanted Children was killing kids.

It was the reason though that I didn’t understand. And why did they make me suffer? They knew I was in pain. Excruciating pain. But still they refused to give me anything for it. When the nurses spoke, they acted like I wasn’t even in the room. Maybe the pain should have been strong enough to block out the noises. Or at least get me to stop paying attention to what they were saying.

But I heard every word.

Not that it mattered. I didn’t understand what any of it meant. And there wasn’t anyone I could talk to now who could make my situation better. It was too late.

After everyone left, it was quiet. Too quiet. Even the crickets and the frogs were quiet, like they had seen the whole thing and were too shocked to make a sound. Or maybe it was my own energy that was drowning them out.

I yelled into the night even though I knew no one could hear me. And the people I was yelling at were no longer there. I was hoping it would make me feel better, screaming curses at them, but I found no relief. Nothing that dulled the ache I felt deep in my soul.

I don’t know how long I lay there. Twenty minutes? Maybe hours? I had nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No one to talk to.

One question that kept eating at me was, why had I stuck around after my death when it seemed apparent that others had moved on? What purpose did I have, prior to stabbing the doctor, to remain on earth?

I had only been at Riverbrook about a month before my death. Just in time for the yearly vaccinations. I hadn’t connected with anyone, really, while I was alive. Was there someone I was supposed to help? Someone I had talked to before my death?

There was Jonathan, but it was too late to save him. He had already died. I had seen him outside standing next to the older boy.

Maybe I had already fulfilled my original purpose and now I was just suffering the consequences of my actions? I didn’t understand it. And I didn’t think I ever would.

Finally, I rose from the cold, hard ground and started walking toward the gate, staring up at it as I approached.

A police officer had closed the gate when everyone left earlier, probably to deter any trespassers. Of course, I didn’t know why anyone would enter it. They wouldn’t if they knew what went on inside Riverbrook’s walls. Or maybe the building would become a local attraction. Didn’t journalists and photographers often break inside old buildings? Or did that only happen in films?

I reached out my hands to grip the wrought-iron bars, but my hands went straight through, sending a weird sensation through my body. After another failed attempt, I peered through the bars and stared down the dark road, watching for any signs of life. But there was nothing. No lights. No movements. All was unbearably still.

With a sigh, I turned and left the gate behind, heading past the restricted section of the building’s entrance. I held my hand out and tried to graze the chain-link fence, but still my fingers passed right through.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and scrunched up my shoulders against the chill in the air. I didn’t know why I felt cold. I was dead. I shouldn’t have been feeling anything at all. But I guess what kind of suffering would this be if I couldn’t feel the full effects?

As I walked, I could hear leaves and branches rustling in the light breeze that passed through the trees. And I could hear the buzz from the electrified fence. I followed alongside the fence, taking my time as I walked its entire length until I reached the gate again. Still not tired, but finding nothing else to do, I walked across the courtyard and stared up at the plywood that now covered the splintered remains of the main entrance.

Slowly, I climbed the stairs and outstretched my hand. When it passed straight through the wood, I sighed. Pressing forward, I walked through the board and came to a stop inside the entrance.

I toured every room of the building, trying to memorize the layout. I had nothing else to do. When dawn lightened the sky again, I headed back to the commons room and stood at the window and stared out at the courtyard.

That’s when I saw a fancy black car drive up to the gate.

CHAPTER 3

I WATCHED AS a man stepped out of the car and walked to the guard shack. It looked like he was unlocking it with a key. A few minutes later, the gate was gliding open and he was driving into the courtyard.

He stopped beside the stone plaque, got out again, and gazed up at the building.

Now that he was closer, I got a better look. He had graying short hair and he wore tan slacks and a bright white buttoned shirt with the top button undone and the long sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

And he was smiling.

Not a full-blown smile like he was watching a funny movie. More like one of satisfaction. Or like he was imagining things he would do with it.

Finally, he walked across the courtyard to the gate at the restricted section of the property and unlocked the padlock with another key.

Quickly, I ran out the room and down the hall, hoping to meet him at the loading dock, the only other entrance into the building from the front.

When I burst through the door into the warehouse, he was just starting to open the outside door. I blew out a breath. It had been a few weeks since I had seen anyone so I wasn’t quite sure if he would be able to see me.

After the man stepped inside and flipped a switch, blinding light filled the room.

Shielding my eyes, I followed him through the interior door. Instead of stopping at the elevators, he kept walking down the hallway and then through the door into the main part of the building.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and together, we walked the floor and peered into all the bedrooms and classrooms. Then he stepped into the kitchen and turned the lights on.

I watched him check out the storage closets and then he walked slowly through the rest of the kitchen, periodically inspecting the ovens. Then he stopped and cocked his head as he stared down into the sink.

I hurried to his side and gasped when I saw the bloody knife. Slowly, I backed away.

The man looked up and scanned the room. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. After punching in a number, he held the phone to his ear.

Seconds later, a man’s voice said, Miles, you at the property? Everything all right?

Yes, he replied. There’s a knife lying in the kitchen sink. Looks like it’s covered with blood. Know anything about that?

Not a thing. But get rid of it. I don’t want the police snooping around.

Miles nodded as he pursed his lips like he was considering the best way to handle a bloody knife.

Oh, and Miles? The man paused briefly before continuing. I want the place up and running by the end of the week.

Yes, sir. Miles ended the call and then turned the faucet on. As the water washed off the blood, he opened the cabinet under the sink, pulled out a large bottle of bleach, and set it on the counter. Then he picked up the knife between his thumb and forefinger and held it under the stream of water.

After he set it back in the sink and poured bleach over it, he washed it with dish soap, dried it with a paper towel, and then slipped it into the empty slot in the knife block.

Finally, with a sigh, he strode out of the kitchen.

I hurried after him, quickening my pace to keep up. We walked to the restricted section and then stopped at the elevators.

We rode up to the fifth floor and walked into a large office with windows covering the walls and even parts of the ceiling. Dark, rich-looking wood furniture filled the room, from the expansive desk in the middle of the floor to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that fit perfectly between the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He sat down at the desk, logged into the computer, and then began making notes on a large notepad.

While he worked, I walked over to one of the windows on the left and peered out at the courtyard. Never in the time I had lived at Riverbrook had I peered out of a window that was not barred.

Until now.

Evidently, the administrative offices weren’t barred. But that made sense. They weren’t forcing anyone but the kids to stay inside the building.

As I watched the sunrise, a construction van drove through the open gate.

I glanced at Miles, but he didn’t seem to know or care that it was there. When I turned back to the window, a dump truck and another semi-truck pulling a big machine on a trailer were driving up to the gate.

Over the next hour, I watched the construction crew rip out the old stone plaque in the courtyard. The one that read Riverbrook Academy for Unwanted Children.

After the plaque was gone, the crew entered the warehouse at the loading dock.

With a sigh, I walked over to Miles and looked over his shoulder at the data he was typing into the computer. I didn’t understand any of it, but the file name read ‘Financial Projections and Budgets.’

Folding my arms over my chest, I backed away and leaned against the bookshelf behind me while I listened to the workers who were now in the basement repairing the fire damage. I overheard them talking about the integrity of the building’s foundation and structure and then one of the men deemed the basement reparable.

In the afternoon, they set up a brand new stone plaque.

I stared at the new name that was engraved in the stone. Kensington School of Excellence.

I tried to figure out what that meant. Were they turning the place into a boarding school? Or was it still an orphanage?

But then I remembered what the man—the one Miles had called about the knife—had said about the police.

And then I knew.

Despite the name change, it would always be Riverbrook. I knew it for what it was. Still the place where children come to die.

CHAPTER 4

MILES RETURNED EARLY the next morning. I followed him to the basement and walked with him as he checked out the repairs the construction crew had done the day before. Seeming satisfied, he walked back to the elevators and rode up to the fifth floor.

I didn’t know what I’d learn from him; he wasn’t much of a phone person. So, while he headed for his office, I walked to the stairwell.

As I was staring through the bars of the commons room window, the staff returned. Three of them I recognized from before, but now there were others, mostly doctors. Someone had to take over Dr. Winden’s position in the morgue. And Dr. Martin never returned. Neither did Dr. Roben.

There were seven men and six women who appeared to be staff residents. Their driver set wheeled suitcases and luggage bags on the loading dock and then drove away. I watched them climb the stairs and walk through the doorway at the dock entrance. I knew it was only a matter of time before the kids returned as well. And the teachers.

With nothing else to do, I wandered the halls again, following the staff to their living quarters on the fourth floor. I watched them unpack their bags and store their belongings in the closets. I watched them dress in their new uniforms. Several of the men wore guard uniforms while the others put on lab coats. The women appeared to be either nurses or researchers.

Two nights before the fire, I had sat staring out the window in the commons room and tried to block out the noises around me. But I couldn’t find peace from the horrible sounds of screaming in the basement.

In death, I had noticed that my hearing improved. I could hear the squeak of the wheels that transported staff members down the hallway of the fourth floor. I could hear the hum of the elevator and the grating sounds of the pulleys as the elevator car descended to the basement. And I could hear the roaring sounds of what I could only guess were from the fire in the crematory. I knew they weren’t coming from the boilers or the air circulation system. They were different. And they followed the screams.

Closing my eyes only made the sounds louder. They lasted for three long hours. I felt sick to my stomach just listening to them, just thinking about what they meant. Never in my wildest imaginings had I envisioned Riverbrook as a place of death. There had been rumors about children being punished in the basement, but I never really believed them. Not until I got sick and was taken to the infirmary. When I died, my fears were confirmed.