13. Harper
THIRTEEN
HARPER
The stranger’s hands shook as he chugged from the glass. Droplets of water splashed everywhere, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
From across the room, Savannah and I made eye contact. I could almost hear her saying what the fuck , even though her lips hadn’t moved. We knew each other that well.
Savannah and I had been friends since the first day of high school. Savannah’s parents had wanted her to attend some fancy private school in the hills, but she’d fought it until they agreed to let her attend Lakeside High, the public high school which happened to be down the street from my childhood home.
I could still remember her walking into the classroom that first day, taking a seat beside me in AP English. She’d flicked her dark hair, glossy with a pink velvet headband, over her shoulder and turned to me. I couldn’t remember her exact words, but whatever she’d said had made me laugh, and from that moment on, I’d been smitten with the new girl from Washington Heights.
Savannah had gotten me through a lot of bad years – years I’d spent lying to the school and to authorities about my mom’s illness. She was the only reason I didn’t entirely hate my teenage years.
It’s funny what the brain remembers. I could remember every moment, every treasured memory with Savannah, yet I couldn’t remember the man I loved.
I was as smitten with Savannah today as I’d been that first day of high school. And as I looked at her now, standing next to Connor in the basement, I admired her bravery and how well she was handling everything that had transpired in such a short amount of time.
Sasquatches. Werewolves. Missing hikers. My dad.
It was a lot to take in, for anyone. But especially for a girl from Washington Heights. And I was grateful to have her here by my side, during one of the hardest times.
The sound of glass hitting the floor snapped me from my thoughts. The cup had slipped from the man’s fingers, smashing into thousands of tiny shards on the hardwood floor. The scream that followed was piercing, sounding more animal than human.
“Fuck,” Atticus muttered.
Savannah and I covered our ears with shaking hands. The sound didn’t seem to bother the men as much, though Wyatt kept touching his hand to his temple, almost absentmindedly.
Wyatt moved his other hand from my shoulder and walked over to the man, bending forward so his face was inches away. The man snarled, foam gushing out the corners of his mouth like a rabid dog.
“You’ve had your water. Now speak,” growled Wyatt.
I knew my boyfriend well enough to know that he was losing his patience, and it made me squirm. Whatever had happened to this man was likely beyond his control, and I hated the way he was being treated, tied up in the basement like some animal.
Connor moved from Savannah’s side to stand beside the two sasquatches. Broken glass crunched under his feet as the three men formed an intimidating line against their prisoner. But then Connor took a tiny step back, as if he knew his place in the chain of command.
Wyatt’s hand shot to his temple and he massaged the right side of his forehead, as if in pain. But sasquatches didn’t feel pain the same way humans did. My brow furrowed as I went over possible scenarios in my mind. Was he getting a migraine? Did sasquatches even get headaches?
“S-s-sorry,” the man groaned as his body flexed against the chains that bound him to the recliner. “I-it’s hard t-to control my… b-body.” He sighed heavily, and I could feel the exhaustion in him, like he was ready to give up; ready to leave his fate in the hands of the three men looming large before him. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Louder,” Wyatt growled.
“I-I don’t r-remember much. It’s all… m-murky. In my head. I’m s-s-sorry.”
“Do you remember your name?”
“Jim,” the man whispered as a fat tear slipped down his cheek. “I think it’s J-J-Jim. And I think I’m married to someone called N-Nancy. Please,” he moaned. “I-I think I have kids. They must be w-worried. Been so… long.”
My heart broke at the mention of kids. I longed to give the man, Jim, something more comforting than the blanket, which was soaked. I wanted him to know that someone cared, even if the scary men interrogating him didn’t. Seeing the man tied up, stuttering on his words, triggered memories of my father tied up in Wyatt’s living room. While my father’s appearance had been… well, horrifying, Jim appeared more normal and human-like. If it wasn’t for Connor’s hybrid comment, I wouldn’t have suspected he was anything other than a frail man who’d gotten lost in the woods.
Savannah grabbed my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. My heart swelled with gratitude for my best friend as we faced the horror unfolding before our eyes.
Atticus spoke low. “Want me to ask Tank if the serum is ready?”
Wyatt nodded.
As Atticus left the theater, he tripped on his discarded beer can. He gave the can a swift kick. It clattered across the floor, coming to a stop by my feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
I’d never seen one of them stumble before and had to hold in a laugh, relieved to feel something other than terror, even if just for a moment.
The room thrummed with anticipation as we waited for Atticus to return, a nervous silence settling around us. After a few minutes, he reappeared with Tank, who clasped a small glass vial.
I gasped, and the entire room turned to stare at me. Tank scowled, rolling his eyes.
“Please,” I begged. “Don’t take away his memory. He’s already lost so much.”
“Harper,” Wyatt said gently, though I could hear a tinge of annoyance hidden beneath my name. “This is a different serum – one that will help him remember, not take away. It doesn’t work on humans, so we’ll know soon enough if Connor is right.”
Connor sniffed the room, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “I’m positive he’s not human. At least not fully.”
Wyatt nodded to Tank, who smirked at me as he handed Wyatt the serum. I narrowed my eyes and muttered a quiet “Jerk,” as he sauntered past me on the way back to his post outside the basement stairs.
Savannah nudged me. “Nice one, Davis,” she teased.
Wyatt gripped the serum so hard, his hand shook. “Listen, Jim. There’s two ways we can do this. Either you take this willingly, or I force it down your throat.” His voice softened. “It will help you find the answers you’re missing. The answers we need.”
The man forced his lips shut and shook his head vehemently. “Mm-mm,” he said through closed lips, tears streaming down his face.
It was clear that something traumatizing had happened to this man.
“Very well.” Wyatt turned to Savannah and me. “Ladies, you might want to look away.” Then he turned to Atticus. “You know what to do.”
It happened so fast. Atticus stood behind the man and held his head still as Wyatt forced the contents of the vial through the man’s lips. Connor stood nearby, observing, his hand resting on the waistband of his jeans where I assumed he had some kind of weapon hidden.
Screeching in pain, the man tried to shake his head back and forth, but Atticus continued to hold him tight. His biceps bulged as he tried to stop the man from busting through his chains.
Time stopped. It felt like an hour had passed, when in reality it was probably seconds. The man slunk lower in the recliner, his heavy breathing echoing off the padded walls of the theater in a slow, steady tempo.
“It’s working,” Atticus said, releasing him to step back.
Tears began gushing down the man’s face. “I remember everything,” he moaned, his head sinking down. “Genocorp. They did this to me.”
Genocorp. There it was, the thing we’d all feared. Everything kept coming back to the Carders. I inched closer to the man, wanting to hear every word. Savannah followed, refusing to let go of my hand like a protectant mother.
“What did Genocorp do?” Wyatt rubbed his temple as he spoke.
“A group of masked men captured me in the woods and brought me to Genocorp where they injected me with something. I don’t know what. There were so many needles.” He rubbed his left bicep, his eyes darting around the room like a caged animal. “They said it was some kind of experiment and that they needed me to be ready. For something big.”
Connor and Wyatt passed a knowing glance between them.
“Did they say what they were testing?” Atticus asked, shuffling back and forth on his feet as he clutched his belly. He burped loudly. “Ugh. Shouldn’t have chugged that beer.”
The man shook his head. “They never said what they were testing. They r-r-rarely spoke to us.”
“ Us? ” Wyatt growled.
The man nodded. “They kept us in cages, like animals. There must be at least f-f-fifty of us being held there and experimented on.”
Connor and Wyatt passed another look between them. This was bad.
“Did you ever see their faces?” Wyatt asked.
“No. They always wore masks. I only heard their voices.” His head dropped down, as another fat tear trickled down his cheek. “It was such a beautiful day to hike. My wife was going to come with me, but our babysitter canceled last minute. Thank goodness, or she might be here beside me.” His whole body convulsed as tears cascaded down his face. “They came out of nowhere and surrounded me. I – I wish I’d never left the house that day.”
It felt like my own heart was ripping into a million pieces. Was that what had happened to my father? Had he also been taken away against his will and experimented on? My sorrow was quickly replaced by guilt. I’d wasted so much time being angry at him for leaving, when it was time that could have been spent searching for him.
I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. Savannah’s arm draped around my shoulder as she gave it a squeeze. “Don’t blame yourself, Harper. You didn’t know,” she whispered, her eyes glimmering with compassion.
“How do you always know what I’m thinking?” I whispered.
“Do you really need to ask? I’ve known you for a long time. We’re in this together, like always. We’ll find your dad, and he’ll understand why it took so long. I promise.”
A loud groan caused us to turn back to the scene unfolding before us. Only it wasn’t the prisoner making the noise. It was Wyatt, his palm covering his forehead and eyes.
“Atticus, can you finish up here?” he moaned.
Atticus clutched his belly. “I’m not feeling so good either, Boss.” Beads of sweat covered his forehead.
Wyatt turned to me, his face contorted in pain. “Tank can stand guard. We’ll come back later,” he muttered. “I need out of this basement. Now.”
As he latched onto my arm, I could feel his whole body shaking. Silently, I directed him from the theater and up the stairs. His body felt weak against mine, and worry began coursing through me.
Tank seemed surprised to see us. His eyebrows knitted together with concern as he saw Wyatt’s condition. “Boss? You okay?”
Wyatt held out his palm. “I n-need fresh air. And some…” He paused.
Connor and Savannah stood nervously behind us on the stairs. Behind them, Atticus leaned wearily against the railing. Wyatt lowered his voice to a whisper. “Get Gloria to make a giant pot of red tea. Fast.”
Tank peered down the staircase, his eyes widening. “On it, Boss. And I’ll make sure the prisoner doesn’t go anywhere.” He pulled out a walkie talkie and began mumbling instructions into the receiver.
The walk outside to the veranda was slow and agonizing, like trying to steer a giant boulder. My body strained with effort against his solid wall of muscle. I could tell Wyatt was in pain, though he didn’t complain once. I helped him into a chair and sat down next to him. Savannah and Connor silently took their seats across from us.
Atticus sunk into the chair next to Wyatt. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. “It feels like the world’s worst hangover,” he groaned.
My eyes clouded with worry as I clutched Wyatt’s hand in mine. He leaned back in his chair, rocking his body, his eyes closed. I had never seen him in pain, though somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew that wasn’t true. Another memory stolen from me, most likely. The red eyes of the rogue flashed in my mind, and I shuddered.
“Wyatt,” I whispered. “What’s happening?”