Author: Emily Kinsey

I sway side-to-side in the back of the beat-up van. My hands, which are zip-tied in front of me, went numb somewhere between Boston and Portland. I struggled to free myself in the beginning, but I gave up well before the snow began to fall. We’re restrained most of the day and only untied so we can eat and use the bathroom. My feet are unbound—and I would try to run for it—but they didn’t allow me to grab my sneakers, and even I know I wouldn’t last very long barefoot in the middle of a nor’easter winter.

I’m not alone in the van; besides myself, there are five other passengers, all restrained.

My seatmate is a rough looking guy with a shaved head and a snake tattoo that coils neatly around his throat. I try not to look directly at him. Instead, I stare at the ground. He’s shoeless, too.

The van takes a hard left, and while I’m able to keep myself upright, I manage to jab my seatmate in the ribs with my elbow.

I gamble a sideways glance and find snake tattoo staring at me. I look away quickly.

“What’re you in for?” snake tattoo asks. His voice sounds tough and doesn’t give away his age. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s much older than myself, but since I do know better, I know he’s a teenager, too.

“New stepmom,” I answer.

“Shit, that’s rough,” he says. “She didn’t want a stepson?”

“She and my dad just had their own kid. They don’t want me around anymore,” I say. Something burns deep in my chest. “Apparently I’m a bad influence.”

“Are you?”

“She told me to change the baby’s diaper. I asked if she forgot how to.”

Snake tattoo chuckles. “Bet she didn’t like that.”

“She went crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Next night, I’m asleep in bed and someone is shaking me awake. I open my eyes, and two grown ass men are staring at me,” I say, physically recoiling from the memory. “I was wearing nothing but my boxers and a t-shirt when they grabbed me. I fought them, but those two dudes were huge. And they had the jump on me. I screamed for my dad, but he didn’t answer. I saw him in the hallway on my way out, next to her, trying not to make eye contact.”

“Man, that’s brutal. Did he say anything?”

“He said not to fight them. He didn’t even tell me where he was sending me. You?”

“Court order,” snake tattoo says. He hangs his head slightly and nods. “Possession. The judge said it was here or jail, no more juvie for me. My lawyer said it was better than having a record. So here I am.”

I lean forward. The mention of a lawyer has me asking the question that’s been on my mind for two days. “I’ve been thinking this couldn’t possibly be legal, right?”

“They can keep us here until we turn eighteen. Child labor is still legal in deep space.”

“What?”

“They reopened the portal to the Mars colony. That’s where we’re headed. To clean up space junk.”

“It’s not space junk; it’s nuclear waste they portaled to Mars. Chernobyl 2.0, remember?”

“Yeah, but the radiation from space neutralizes the nuclear waste, so it’s not dangerous.”

“That’s a Mars Corp. lie!”

“If we do well, we’ll get sent to the Phobos post early. Look, they’re untying everyone and handing out our suits and helmets now. The portal opens just ahead. It could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be changing diapers right now.”