All I could do was cross my arms and reiterate, “I’m staying.”
“Kennedy-”
“I’m staying.”
He drew in a deep breath and somehow came to the understanding that I meant what I said before opening the door. We entered the foyer where he stopped again, opening his mouth to rehash the argument and must have thought better of it. Instead, he said, “Reload your rifle.”
He actually waited for me to drop the magazine and insert a new one.
“I’ll let you know if I start to feel any different,” he said before opening and entering the gym doors, which I appreciated but didn’t see occurring.
The gym was just as vast and empty as it had been on my guard duty rounds, and as usual it made me feel hollow, like the gym itself. Our footsteps echoing off the walls didn’t help much. I was thankful Harrison was with me, which was ironic because we were in the gym because of him. We took a seat on the edge of the bleachers, which Harrison had unfolded at some time over the last few weeks, and I laid the first aid kits out preparing to clean and dress his injuries.
“Gloves,” he insisted. “Wear gloves.”
I obliged, slipping on the latex coverings and going to work on his wounds.
“It’s only for a little while,” I said, trying to be encouraging. “Once you don’t turn, they’ll know you aren’t a risk to them and they’ll see that this ostracism isn’t needed.”
He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me.
“They knew I was a risk to them long before this morning. Can’t hide who you truly are when you’re living so closely with others…”
“I don’t…I don’t think I know what you mean.” Although I did. Deep down, I did.
“They know I’m different, Kennedy.”
“Then you’ll explain to them how you’re different and they’ll get over their fears.”
He grumbled something unintelligible, but I didn’t press him for an explanation because it sounded like he disagreed with me.
As I cleaned and bandaged his wounds, I couldn’t help noticing the amazing amount of slicing his skin and the muscles below it had suffered, or the fact that he didn’t wince or cry out once. About halfway through, I stopped reminding myself to be delicate.
When the last bandage was secured in place, I found him staring at me.
“Was I rough with you?” I asked, referring to the dressings.
“Yes,” he admitted, “but I didn’t feel it.” And I knew he wasn’t trying to impress me. He was telling the truth. He lowered his head as he inspected the job I’d done, twisting his shirt and showing off the contours of his muscles. When he looked up again, it was me doing the observing. Embarrassed, my eyes immediately fell and I began to replace the medical supplies in the first aid kits.
“You’re right,” I said, trying to seem less anxious over what I was about to bring up by slowly returning the medical supplies to the first aid kits. “They’re going to want to know what you are before they’ll feel comfortable with you walking around the school again.”
And they weren’t the only ones interested. I’d watched Harrison for months before the outbreak. He had mesmerized me with his seemingly unwavering self-confidence, his steadfast self-reliance, and his overall maturity that so many of the boys in my school lacked. And as close as I’d paid attention, he’d seemed out of the ordinary for only those reasons. But there was so much more to Harrison than what he allowed to be seen, and whatever it was he kept hidden below the surface, it controlled him. If only for the sake of unloading a problem, of not having to carry around the burden alone, I wanted him to open up to me. But in a visible sign with how uncomfortable he was with this conversation, he stood up, walked to the wall next to the door, and slid to the ground with an exhale. He propped his elbows on his knees, and his strong, sure fingers slid through his hair to catch his head as it fell. He looked…hopeless, and it made my heart wrench. Suddenly feeling too far away, I strode to him and dropped to the floor too so that both of us were staring out across the gym. I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn’t need to say another word about his condition. It was his prerogative and he should do it when he was ready. But then he opened his mouth and spoke.
“What have you noticed?” he asked, his voice tight.
Seeing no reason to stall, and because I had a sense that it would be some relief to Harrison if I were honest about it, I listed off his obvious quirks. “You eat only raw meat, you don’t feel pain, you have heightened senses, you never sleep, you heal rapidly. You don’t turn into an Infected when bitten, obviously. So…do you want to tell us what you are?”
“Yes, I do,” he said earnestly, only to follow it with, “But I can’t.”
“They’re going to say they have a right to know.”
“Yes, and they’d be correct,” he agreed, standing up and putting distance between us.
“If you agree,” I said softly, “why avoid the issue? Let us help you.”
“You can’t,” he said, dipping his head and shaking it in what seemed to be desperation.
“Why?”
“Because…” He let his voice trail off, searching for words as he stepped farther into the court. A beam of sunlight draped him in a soft, white glow, casting shadows across the contours of his muscles and the hard edges of his face as he stared at the floor. He was amazing and startling at the same time.
“Because…?” I ventured. “You’re nervous about what we will think of you?”
He laughed through his nose. “I’ve never really cared much for what anyone thought of me until I met you.”
That threw me. I blinked, clearing my jumble of emotions, two of which rose to the surface of the turmoil. I felt both honored and sad that we hadn’t opened up to each other sooner. But if there was any juncture to make up for lost time, it was now.
“I don’t know, Kennedy,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly, lost in thought.
“They’ll want an answer, Harrison. I-I want an answer.”
He moved even farther into the court, continuing his contemplation. He stood this way for several long seconds. It felt like everything came to a standstill…my breathing…time…the world itself. For reasons I didn’t understand until he spoke again, it felt like the significance of that moment would change not only how I saw him but how he saw himself. Finally coming to a conclusion on the notions pestering him, he suddenly spun toward me, lifted his head high in a sign of determination, and looked me squarely in the eyes. From across the gym floor, I could see his chest lift in defiance at his resistance and then he said with loud, clear distinction…
“I can’t tell you Kennedy, because no one has ever been able to determine what I actually am.”
And there it was…the truth.
I sat there, stunned into silence, even while the meaning behind his words permeated my shock. Others knew about his quirks? And not only did they know about them, they tried to figure them out? And failed at it? Who? And what exactly had they done to him to try to find out? I felt my body prickle with anger as I thought about anyone who would put him through any kind of testing. Harrison had the exact opposite reaction. He drew in another deep breath and released it. When he did, it seemed blatantly obvious that he was letting go of the tension that had built up over years. The strain in his face ebbed away, making him more handsome. How this was possible, I don’t know, but it was beautiful. His lips naturally drew up, exuding a relaxed complacency. The muscles in his broad shoulders and down his arms loosened for the first time since I’d seen him.
He glanced at me and had apparently confused my speechlessness for nervous hesitation. “Don’t worry. I don’t turn into a big green monster when I get mad.”
That made me snicker. It shouldn’t have. Our discussion was serious, I just couldn’t help myself. Before long, he was laughing, too.
When our outburst subsided, I said, “So this is why you stayed away from me…You knew you were different, you just didn’t know why.”<
br />
He nodded. “Yes, that would be it.”
I had never felt sorrier for anyone in my life. To want love and to be unable to accept it has to be one of the most devastating heartbreaks possible. And Harrison had endured it for years. Considering this, and understanding all he’d gone through, had I known what effect my next action would have on him, I would never have done it. He’d gone through too much already. But without understanding the impact, I reached into my pocket, pulling out the military briefing memo I’d found in the National Guard utility vehicle, the one with Harrison’s picture and information on it. “Would these be the people who you’ve been working with to figure out what you are?”
His eyebrows dipped as he focused in on the paper. Appearing confused, he took a step toward me and stopped abruptly. And then his face went white.
~ 8 ~
HARRISON DIDN’T SEEM TO HEAR ME calling his name, even though I was standing directly in front of him.
He had taken just two long strides before reaching me and pulling the paper from my fingertips. He reviewed it carefully and I saw his body growing more rigid with each passing second. My view of his forehead gave me no indication of his thoughts but the pulsing of his muscles as he clenched and unclenched his jaw did. Finally, he looked up, but it was past me so that his gaze settled on the ceiling. I saw his shoulders begin to rise and fall from the effort, when his breathing became audible.
I gave him a few more seconds to clear his thoughts and settle his emotions before asking, “So I take it these aren’t the people you worked with to determine what makes you invincible?”
He shifted his intense gaze to me. “I’m not invincible, Kennedy.”
He was being humble, of course, because all evidence could be weighed and found to be in my favor.
“No, the ones who took my blood…they were scientists, private industry scientists. The CDC…the National Guard, they’re both government-run.” He sighed heavily. “This makes no sense.” After several anxious seconds, he muttered, “Why…Why would they be looking for me? Why would they think I’m connected to this virus?”
Those were the questions that overwhelmed both of us since seeing the military briefing memo. Unfortunately, he seemed as daunted by it as me.
“So you have no idea who Marion Kremil is?”
“None. I’ve never heard the name.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
Holding up the memo, he exhaled sharply in frustration and asked, “Where’d you find this?”
“A National Guard truck.” While he began to process this information, I added, “There were no guardsmen present.”
“Was anybody else there?” he asked before realizing his unintentional reference to the Infected. “Don’t answer that.”
He managed a weak smile before falling back into deep contemplation. Slowly, he made his way to the bleachers and sank down to them, holding up the briefing to reread it. Wanting to be close to him as well as show my support, I sat next to him, though I’m not sure it did much good. We stared absentmindedly across the gymnasium, each of us trying to put together the puzzle despite the missing pieces.
“I asked my aunt once about what happened to me…,” Harrison said, his head remaining down.
“Your aunt who you lived…” I said and caught myself. “Live with?”
“Eve,” he said. “I thought maybe she could give me an explanation. She was a molecular biologist…and she was there when I was born.”
My heart stopped for a second, only restarting after I persuaded it by taking a long, drawn out breath. This was because it was clear to me that Harrison was hinting that his birth and his impermeability wasn’t pure coincidence. My eyes darted to him, but he continued staring at the floor. Apparently, he noticed my reaction anyways because he went on to explain.
“I was delivered early because of a…” he paused and glanced at me, “…because of a virus, the same one that took my mom’s life and the same one that…enhanced my cellular functions. Being the scientist she was, when I asked Eve if she could explain it to me, she took my blood. When she came back with the results, she told me something I’ll never forget. She said, ‘Harrison, your blood is fine, you are fine. You’re more than fine and as you grow you’ll know what I mean. But you can never…ever…show what you can do to anyone…ever.’ So I asked, ‘What can I do?’ and she said, ‘Anything you want, Harrison. Anything you want.’ Of course, you hear that a lot when you’re a kid. It’s supposed to apply to your career choices, like becoming an astronaut or an arctic researcher, and at the time I just wanted to be a cowboy.” I chuckled at his confession and he gave me a subtle grin. “So I ignored it, until I no longer could. When others start to become aware that you’re different, you’re kind of forced to deal with it. Especially when it’s your dad. When he learned I was different, and exactly how different, he sent me to live with Cro on the west Texas ranch. By then, I was five and I hadn’t slept a single night my entire life. I was actively seeking out raw meat,” he paused and glanced at me uncomfortably before continuing, “and I had more strength and a higher pain tolerance than even my dad. Of course, that wasn’t legitimately proven until just before I left to come here, when he told me that it was now time to serve the family.” The way he said this led me to believe this had been tested in one way or another. “By then, he’d found a reason for me to actually be a part of it, but I wasn’t interested.”
“How did he want you to serve?”
“By disappearing. My dad….He has political aspirations and I…I was a liability. So he sent me here, to live with Eve.”
My chest tightened with his confession. To be cast away by your own father because he thought of you as a burden…Harrison deserved better, far better.
He drew in a deep breath, raising his head until he was looking out the windows lining the wall above the opposing bleachers. The sky was now lit up and a beautiful clear blue could be seen through the glass. “How much sleep did you get last night?” he asked.
“None.”
“And you haven’t had anything to eat,” he inferred.
“No.”
Slowly he began nodding his head, waiting for me to figure out the direction of his questioning. I did, of course. He was reluctant to have me around if I didn’t have the strength to defend myself.
“I’m fine.”
“The Infected move fast,” he warned.
“Then it’s a good thing no one here is infected,” I countered, smiling.
He sighed in annoyance before trying again. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re physically prepared to handle me if I am.”
“I really am fine.”
“Kennedy,” he said, lowering his voice as if he were going to tell me a secret. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
After making his point, I felt silly. Of course he would. He agreed with the quarantine. I was the only one who didn’t.
“Go get some breakfast,” he urged.
So I stood up, albeit reluctantly.
“Do you want anything?”
He paused and desire flickered across his face before he answered, “No…I’m okay.”
I nodded. I didn’t believe him and reminded myself to grab a bag of meat while in the kitchen.
He pulled the key ring from his waist and held it out to me. “Lock the door behind you.”
“I’m not-”
“Kennedy,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Lock the door.”
It was his firm insistence that unnerved me. He truly did believe he might turn any time. And because, and only because, it would be on his conscience, I took the keys and left. It was an awful feeling to turn the lock and hear the bolt slide into place. The sound reminded me of a guard locking a prisoner in his cell, which only drove home the congruity between that analogy and the truth to our situation. My pace to the kitchen was nearly a sprint. I didn’t want to leave him there alone for any longer than was necessary. It would have been a full-fledged race if it weren’t for
the sharp corners and tile floor.
I had expected to dart in, grab some food and get back, but Doc’s voice slowed me down a bit.
“I looked up your name,” he was saying as I came through the door. “Mei means beautiful.”
Beverly was hardly impressed. “It also means plum,” she muttered. “So who’s going to do the rounds at night now?”
She and Mei turned to Doc, who shrugged. “Me, I guess,” he said without enthusiasm.
When the door shut, the noise drew their attention to me.
“How’s he doing?” Doc asked.
“Still talking,” I said, striding confidently toward the pantry.
In the awkward silence that followed, I pulled out a jug of water, which Doc and Mei had the foresight of preparing before the water went off, a few slices of the bread they had made in the solar oven the day before, and a container of the remaining jam. After dropping everything into a metal tub, I went toward the freezer. The electricity had gone out weeks ago and most of the food had spoiled and been thrown out. So the smell that came from the freezer originated from a single source…the meat Harrison had brought from his apartment. He’d been preserving it, taking pieces here and there, and had stopped Doc and Mei from throwing it in the dumpster. There was a very good reason for all this. Harrison needed it to survive.
Beverly immediately stood up, clapped a hand over her nose and mouth, and hurried for the farthest corner of the room. I picked up a previously opened bag that now only held a pound or two of meat and slung it into the tub.
Gawking at me from across the room, Beverly tilted her hand away from her mouth enough to shout out, “What happened to you? You used to be this normal, pretty girl and now…now you’re…this…” She made a swooping gesture with her hands from my feet to my head. Whatever that motion meant, it wasn’t intended as a compliment. “You used to like shopping, going to the mall, coloring your hair…brushing your hair. Now you go around in camouflage, which granted used to be ‘in’ but it isn’t anymore, girlfriend. You carry around weapons…and raw meat. I mean…What happened to you?”
Haven (Apocalypse Chronicles Part 1) Page 16
