by Patti Larsen
Reid now wishes the man had finished the job. But he holds his peace and lets her finish, grateful for the hate she’s feeding inside him. He’ll need it if he’s going to kill her himself.
“I knew, though,” she says, brighter, like it matters, “I knew you were a survivor. Dad always said so. I knew you’d make it.”
He can’t help it. He has to speak up at last. “I did make it,” he says. “And you turned me in again.”
Her bubble of excuses shatters, face crumpling. But Reid isn’t done.
“Nice clothes, by the way. And that ring, wow. Sparkly.”
She flinches, hiding her hand from him and the giant diamond catching even the low light of the compound.
“Lucy,” he whispers. She looks up at him. “Go to hell.”
Her face twists into a grimace of anger and she lunges at the bars. “I’m not your mother, Reid. I shouldn’t have to be responsible for you.”
“I know,” he says. “If you had just trusted me, I would have taken care of you. But you didn’t give a damn and now here we are. I’m going to die and so are you.”
She pales, steps away.
“He’ll kill you sooner or later,” Reid smiles at her. “If I don’t get to you first.”
She storms away in a fit of weeping and he is happy to see her go.
***
Chapter Fifteen
Reid isn’t left waiting long when the soldiers come back for him. He returns to the tent the way he came, getting a little better look at the middle of the compound from this direction but not as much as he would like. Hard to see around close-packed men with guns.
They don’t let him pause or even peek around them, firmly escorting him back into the tent before backing off. Brackett is waiting for him in the exact same place, in the exact same rigid position. To Reid’s surprise, Syracuse is seated in a camp chair, the scent of his cigar rapidly filling the space.
And they aren’t alone. Between them is a woman, short, petite, her long black hair caught in two spiraling pigtails, low at the sides of her neck. Her amber eyes light up as he enters, hands leaving the pockets of her lab coat as she rushes forward to greet him.
“Reid,” she says warmly, “Come in, please. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
He knows her. Has seen her before. She is the same woman he watched tend the injured hunter the first night they found the gate. Her small, eager hands reach for him, patting over his shoulders and chest before settling on either side of his face and gently squeezing.
“You have no idea how amazing this is.” She backs off a step, hands pressed palms together in front of her nose, eyes sparkling. “An actual living subject. A survivor. Reid, I have so many questions.”
She’s mad. Has to be. Reid glances at Brackett. His jaw is clenched again but he hasn’t moved while Syracuse just grins at Reid like it’s funny.
The small woman leads him to a camp chair and sits in another, motioning for him to join her at the spindly table. She doesn’t wait to see if he obeys, instead turns and pours a glass of what looks and smells like orange juice.
He is sitting and taking it from her before she has a chance to set it down, gulping the cold, crisp liquid down. It’s like drinking sunlight. He hates that he is so easily manipulated but knows he needs the fluid so he finishes it and holds the glass out for more.
Brackett finally unfolds from his tense at attention and joins them while Syracuse remains where he is, the scent of his smoke preventing Reid from forgetting he is there.
“Now,” the woman says as she carefully refills Reid’s glass, “I want you to tell me everything.”
“What did you do when you escaped.” The colonel isn’t asking a question. It comes out like a command. Reid figures it’s the only way the man knows to talk.
Before he can say anything, the woman spins, features sharpening as she fixes the man with a glare.
“I am asking the questions.”
They sit there, the tension growing between them. Reid gets the impression this is just another battle in a war familiar to the two of them. When the colonel nods and sits back, Reid gets it. Their power play always ends the same.
Reid has a sudden shift of thinking even as the woman turns back, her smile returning, her nose wrinkling slightly, making the freckles across it dance. He was wrong about Brackett. He’s not in control here. This woman, whoever she is, holds the reins of the whole business.
Reid takes a drink while he tries to decide what to say.
“I ran,” he says, in answer to the colonel but eyes locked with the woman. “Figured out where the road was. Tried to flag down a car.” He shrugs while the jab of betrayal makes his skin crawl. “You know the rest.”
They don’t, not really. He’s pretty sure Syracuse hasn’t mentioned the offer he made.
“Yes, fine.” The woman’s voice is soft and a little deeper than he’s used to for such a diminutive person. “But Reid, tell me about your experiences. How you survived.” She clasps her hands in front of her, an eager child waiting for an exceptionally exciting bedtime story. “How did it feel out there, being chased? Knowing you were going to die? Then living after all? I have to know everything.”
He’s right. She’s nuts. And that makes her more dangerous than any soldier with a gun or hunter with claws and teeth. Her insanity makes her unpredictable.
Reid decides playing along is the worst thing he can do. He doesn’t give a crap what she thinks of him and refuses in that moment, seeing how excited she is, to play her sick and twisted game for one more second. Because she is the creator, he knows that now, the one who came up with this game in the first place. The string-puller who made this sick experiment happen.
He’s tired of games and has been for a while. Even more now that he understands the whole thing comes from the deranged mind of a very sick woman.
Reid empties the glass onto the floor slowly, deliberately, before setting it down, empty, on the table. He sees her face smooth out from her smile before settling into a hard mask.
“Screw you,” he says.
He is hoping for an outburst of some kind but is disappointed. She shrugs and sits back. “No matter,” she says. “But I do want to know how you managed to escape.”
He keeps his silence, crossing his arms over his chest. What’s the worst they can do to him? The truth of the situation makes him want to laugh. So he does.
He sees the edge of her rage for a heartbeat. There it is. So challenging her doesn’t get her going. But treating her like a joke does. That truth makes him laugh harder.
She slaps him, fingernails raking across his cheek. He grins at her still, though baring his teeth is less humor and more absolute rage.
“You hit like a girl,” he says.
Her whole body vibrates for a moment, the petulant child denied her entertainment taking over just long enough that when she brings herself back under control there is a fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip.
“Dr. Lund,” the colonel says. “Is this really necessary? I’ll just have him put with the others.”
She ignores him, eyes still locked on Reid. Slowly her good mood returns and she smiles at him like nothing happened. “Call me Kirstin,” she says. “All the kids do.”
That just gives him the creeps. To what kids is she referring? Are there others, like him, who made it this far? He wants to ask but knows she’ll demand something in return. And from the calculating look in her eyes that’s exactly what she’s counting on.
Fine. She wants to play. He’ll play. As long as he gets information he can use.
“What’s this whole experiment for?”
She smiles wider, sits back. The colonel opens his mouth as if to stop her from answering but she silences him with a gesture. “The next generation of soldier, of course. Super powerful, fast, strong, deadly. Ideal for foreign missions where American troops can’t go. The perfect assassins.”
That can’t be it. How do they plan to control the hunters? Reid op
ens his mouth to ask when the doctor shakes her head.
“My turn. What is it like, being chased?” She is vibrating with the thrill of it. He hates to feed her need but decides it’s worth it. Makes it pay off.
“Heart pounding,” he says. “Your mouth is so dry you can’t swallow, throat so tight you can’t scream. It’s like there’s something living in your chest and it wants to get out but it can’t because you have to keep running. Your legs burn and your lungs too and everything is so sharp in focus it almost hurts.” Reid pulls himself out of it, no longer willing to suffer the memory for her satisfaction.
But it’s enough. She shudders, the joy of it all over her face. “Divine,” she whispers. “Absolutely divine.”
He considers killing her then. Thinks about it carefully. It would be easy, her slender neck right there, inviting his hands. Their eyes lock and she smiles at him, like she knows what he is thinking. She stays where she is, inviting him to try, her madness so clear it makes his stomach clench.
Reid deliberately lets the moment pass. She leans back, just out of immediate reach, clearly disappointed.
Who the hell is she, really? It doesn’t matter. It’s time for him to ask another question.
“What are they?” Reid feels more than sees Syracuse tense and lean just a bit closer. Dr. Lund seems unconcerned.
“My greatest achievement,” she says. “Genetic hybrids, combined DNA fed by a compound of my creation. It’s perfect, really.” Her eyes glaze slightly. “But I could only go so far with animal testing. It had to be brought to the human level. To truly discover its full potential.” She grins suddenly and claps her hands together like she’s said something clever. “This round, this batch of tests, this was the winner at last. Only a few more subjects are necessary to finish the program and we’re ready to move on.” She sighs softly, happily. “I’ll be so sad to see this end. Won’t you, Colonel?”
Brackett doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to. She’s not paying attention to him anyway. Which makes Reid wonder if she notices the look of pure hate the colonel flashes her before his expression levels again.
Interesting. But Reid has no idea how to use it to his advantage.
“Ooh, you want to know the best part?” She is so like a happy child Reid can’t stand it much longer. Her face falls, almost into a pout. “Oh, you know it already. You’ve killed some of my soldiers. It’s the last thing I put in the design. The perfect way to dispose of the bodies.”
“The dust.” Reid kicks himself for speaking, wishes he hadn’t. But she just beams at him like he’s a particularly good student.
“Exactly. Brilliant. And simple.”
She doesn’t know, then, about the effects of the powder. She can’t. Neither does the colonel. But how is that possible when she designed them herself?
The tent flap whips open and someone enters. Reid looks and his whole body tenses. A hunter stands there, silver eyes shining in the light, pale face split into a shark grin.
Dr. Lund is on her feet instantly, goes to it. “Yes, dear,” she says as though speaking to a child. “What do you need?”
The creature’s face tightens at her tone. “The last patrol is ready to leave.”
She pats its face like a good dog and turns to the colonel. “When are the new children arriving? I need them now.”
Syracuse is on his feet, bowing to her but keeping his distance from the hunter. “Some time tonight, Kirstin,” he says.
“Dr. Lund.” Her voice is cold. “Colonel, tell this creature to address me as Dr. Lund from now on. No, even better. Tell it not to address me at all.”
Syracuse is still smiling but there is such a hardness to his face Reid knows the fat man is as close to killing her as he is.
When Syracuse meets Reid’s eyes, Reid grins nice and wide. The fat man scowls back, retreating to his chair.
“Fine then,” the doctor says, turning back to the hunter. “Be a good boy and wait for them to arrive, all right? I want to be sure this last batch is used to the best advantage. Try working on your stalking skills this time.”
Reid is pretty sure the hunter is always working on his stalking skills. Its teeth shine as its shark smile grows and grows.
“Yes, Kirstin,” it says. As it turns to go it catches Reid’s eyes. For the briefest of moments its silver gaze widens. It nods to him, ever so slightly before gliding out of the tent, the soldiers at the door giving it plenty of room.
Only then does Reid remember what she told him. That all the kids called her Kirstin.
Does this madwoman really think of the hunters as her children?
“It’s really too bad, you know,” she says to Reid as she returns to her seat. “You would have been perfect.” She sighs softly, like it’s a small matter she’s already forgotten. “You and your friends will be returned to the other side of the fence for the remainder of the testing. I’ve followed you closely in your journey, Reid. How you evaded my kids. Uncovered that nasty boy Joel’s sacrificial game. My kids found that particularly amusing, taking him. Oh, and finding that dynamite, really. Lovely addition. Of course, it was planted, made to look old. And sabotaged so you would never be able to use it.”
Reid is stunned. “What about the tunnel?” He was there, when the entrance blew. If not the fake dynamite, then how?
She giggles. “Preset charges. You see, my dear boy, I think of everything.” She sighs deeply, content while Reid thinks of Drew. “And so clever of you, finding that tunnel under the water.” She shakes her head, pigtails swinging. “That’s one thing I simply can’t train out of my kids. They hate getting wet.” Dr. Lund laughs at the folly of youth. “Your escape made the chase all the more delightful and allowed me the opportunity to test the new formula on experienced runners. Brilliant.”
Reid shudders inside at how evil she is. This then is the source of their corruption, the hunter’s own darkness. He has to stop her somehow, put an end to the testing, destroy the hunters. But even as he is thinking it, Reid knows the chances of him having a chance to do anything besides become a test subject again are slim.
Dr. Lund hugs herself, feet swinging as she hums to herself, lost in her own little world. The colonel stands and gestures for Reid’s escort to come forward.
“Take him to the stockade with the others.”
Reid gets up, willingly at least, remembering what the doctor said. His friends. He can only imagine she means Leila and the pack. He remembers when he first escaped, seeing them in a cage, and his pulse rate rises at the thought. Alone, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. But if he can figure something out with their help, there might still be an opportunity here to escape again.
Reid follows the soldiers to the tent flap, glancing at the colonel who is scowling down on Dr. Lund. Her soft melody follows Reid toward the exit and the darkness.
***
Chapter Sixteen
The dark shapes with pale faces and eyes that glitter silver glide out of the forest together, meeting on the trail their keepers created for the hunt. The first one snarls a welcome to his brother and sister.
“It’s true, then?” The female hisses in guttural English. “The testing is almost over?”
Their leader’s shark teeth glint in the moonlight, lips pulled wide.
“The doctor told me as much.” His wide shoulders twitch. “The last of the children arrive tonight.”
They fall still, the third licking his lips in hungered response. Their leader sees it and strikes out with his claws, slicing the offender’s cheek. The injured one hisses at his superior but bows his head, blood dripping down his pale skin. He catches it in his hand while the leader slowly licks the blood from his claws.
“Feeding will come later,” the larger hunter says. “After we are done.”
The other two nod, humming softly in happiness. The family will feast, this much is true. As soon as the plan is complete.
The female reaches over and licks the injured one’s cheek, the wound al
ready sealed, the last of the blood gone in a swipe of her tongue.
“Come,” the leader says, not waiting to see if they follow, knowing they will without question, linked together by blood and the fire inside them.
They run together, ghostly shadows devouring the distance in easy strides until they reach the buzzing fence. The leader looks up at it, snarls in fury. To their left is the gate, guards posted only on the outside. The fools. They think the pack so complacent, so under their control, they don’t think to ward the interior of the enclosure.
“Are we certain it is time?” The female examines the fence again, flinching back when she gets too close. “We could feed further, gather more siblings for the battle.”
“The plan shall go ahead, as designed.” The leader lifts one hand, the same claws that harmed the other hunter gentle as they brush over his mate’s face. “I will not allow them to cage us further once this experiment is through. You know the doctor will divide us and keep us confined once we have performed to her satisfaction.” He breathes deeply, low, grinding voice even lower when he goes on. “We now have the means to sustain ourselves. But we must act.”
“And our baby brother?” Her silver eyes settle on the colonel’s tent.
The leader pauses a moment. “He does not yet understand fully what he has done, I think,” he says. “Suspects, yes. Thinks he is safe if he stops. But his transformation is too far along for him to ever be one of them again.”
“Do we kill him?” The third speaks quietly as though fearing another reprisal.
“No,” the leader says. “It will be up to him whether he survives. If we are able we will liberate him and finish his transformation. If not…”
All three shrug together. They are warriors, and to them weakness is death.
“Go,” the leader says to the female. “Gather the others and bring the stockpile of our brethren’s remains. I want to make certain the dust carriers are the first to escape once we begin the attack.”
