by Dean Murray
“Not until you complete development.”
So, not seventeen forever. The way this year was turning out, I considered that good news. Eighteen had to be better. It had to. My sanity couldn’t take another year like this one.
Nathan’s eyes were on me, studying me like he expected me to go bat-crazy any moment. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded slowly. I might lose it on him tomorrow, but for the time being, my sanity was in check. “When did you realize I was changing?” I asked him.
“I suspected it when I noticed your fever,” he admitted. “I didn’t know for sure until I saw your eyes.”
“You had no idea?”
After the recent turn of events, I couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. Had he known all along what I was? Was that the reason he kept coming to my rescue, why he was here now, why Skotadi were after me?
“I had no idea.” He sounded sincere and, while I knew there was something about his presence in my life that he wasn’t telling me, I knew he wasn’t lying to me now. He was just as surprised by all of this as I was.
“Is everyone surprised when this happens?” I asked.
“Most of us know what we are and know it’s coming, but it still sucks when it hits.”
I shuddered at the unpleasant memories. “Does everyone get that sick?”
He nodded with enthusiasm. “I remember sleeping on the floor next to the toilet most of the time.”
I couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped me and, when I glanced at Nathan, he smiled. Funny, with everything that was going wrong, and of all the things that should have been on my mind, all I noticed at that moment was that he did have dimples.
“Want to go for a ride?” he suggested, snapping me out of my reverie.
I gave him a look. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, threatening me with a ride on that death machine isn’t the way to do it.”
“Come on,” he urged. “We’ll get something good to eat. I know you’re starving, and I’m sick of eating nothing but macaroni and cheese and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for five days.” He rose and tugged on my arm to stand me up.
I was famished, and the thought of some good hot food was tempting. I certainly deserved a good meal after...
“Wait,” I gaped at him. “Did you just say five days?”
I didn’t understand how a person could survive without food and water for that long, but Nathan reminded me that I was no longer a simple human. Apparently, hybrids were made to withstand the transition.
At least I got some good food out of the ordeal. While Dee’s was amazing, I concluded that the real reason for the trip into town was for Nathan to call his contact, Travis. He had planned to call two or three days ago, but I had gotten sick. Knowing he hadn’t left me to make the call, as important as it was, brought a tiny smile to my lips.
He was eager to get in touch with Travis now, however. But after a few minutes, even with only hearing one half of the conversation, I concluded that they hadn’t made much progress. Nathan informed Travis of the recent turn of events and ended the call with another promise to call back in a few days.
“We’re not going straight to the base?” I asked when Nathan turned to me.
“It’s too risky right now. The Skotadi will be expecting us to go there.”
“We’re hanging out here a little longer?”
“I don’t want to move until we know more,” he explained apologetically. “We’ve got a good hide out right now.”
I held a hand up. “Hey, I’m fine. The cabin’s kind of growing on me.”
“Okay.” He nearly smiled again. “But now, we have to go shopping again.”
With the exception of macaroni and cheese, which Nathan adamantly refused to put in the cart, we got as much easy prep food as the backpack would carry. I figured we were set for another week or more. Granted, the limited variety sucked, but we wouldn’t starve.
When we stopped at a red light on our way out of town, Nathan lifted his visor and turned to me. “Want to get a beer?” He gestured toward the hole in the wall bar where we had watched the news several nights ago.
I agreed and expected Nathan to have a beer and I to have a soda again, but when I joined him at the bar after stopping by the restroom first, I was surprised to see two bottles in front of him.
Nice. I wondered how he managed that.
Then I saw the bartender. It wasn’t the same antisocial man from before. It was a young, attractive brunette with a flashy smile to match her flashy, and inappropriately tiny, camisole. She didn’t bother to conceal her obvious admiration of Nathan, nor her disappointment when she saw me approach.
Well that explains it, doesn’t it? I snorted as I sat down.
Nathan shot me a sideways look. “What’s wrong with you?”
As I turned to him, I glanced a table full of coeds in the corner, who looked like they were on spring break or something, though I had no idea why they would be on spring break in Eastern Tennessee—but that wasn’t the point. The point was three out of the five girls were in danger of throwing their necks out of place as they struggled to get a closer look at Nathan. He stared obliviously at the big screen suspended above the center of the bar.
“Nothing. Thanks for the beer.” I nodded my head at the bartender. “She didn’t ask to card me?”
“No,” he said like the idea was ridiculous.
“You have no idea, do you?”
“About?”
“How hot you are,” I blurted out before my brain could stop me. I froze and covered my face with my hands in mortification, wishing for the ability to stay hidden forever so that I never had to face him again.
He was silent for so long that curiosity got the best of me, and I risked a peek at him through spread fingers. He was looking at me like he wasn’t sure he understood, or believed, what I had said. I lowered my hands slowly and avoided his eyes as I told myself it was no big deal. I could talk my way out of this.
I shrugged coolly. “I mean, it’s clear a lot of girls think that.”
I held back a laugh at the scandalized look on his face that remark induced, and gained some confidence from realizing he was probably more embarrassed by my slip up than I was.
Well, maybe equally embarrassed.
“Alright,” I said in a hushed voice, feigning indifference. “It’s pretty obvious that the bartender has the hots for you.”
“Really?” He hooked an eyebrow and glanced at the brunette.
“Yeah, and don’t look now,” I continued in a whisper as he leaned conspiratorially closer to me, “but there is a table full of college girls behind you, and they are all seriously checking you out.”
He gave me a curious look as he leaned back, but he didn’t look over his shoulder like every other guy would have done.
Rolling with it, I continued, “Right now, they’re trying to figure out if I’m your sister or your girlfriend.” I shot a furtive glance in their direction as he watched me, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “From the way we’re acting, I think they’re banking on me being your sister.”
He nodded slowly, turning his lips inward to hide his smile. Then he took a swig of beer to cover that up.
I should have stopped there but, I didn’t. “Now, to prevent you from having to fend off unwanted groping from all directions, I could pretend to be your girlfriend if one of them comes over here. Your real one would probably appreciate my help. She can thank me later.”
“My real—” He stopped and squinted at me peculiarly, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He finally settled on a chuckle. “Unwanted groping? I don’t think there is such a thing. At least not to a guy.”
I groaned. “I know you’re not one of those guys.”
“Why couldn’t I be one of those guys?” He sounded offended.
“You’re too nice,” I said instantly.
That was the second time in as many minutes that I caught Nathan completely off guard. He actually
choked on his beer this time. I even surprised myself, but really, it was true. For once, speaking without a filter hadn’t ended with me kicking myself. And I was right. He wasn’t one of those guys.
“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “I don’t think I heard you right. Did I hear you say I was nice?”
“You heard me.” I sipped my beer as I eyeballed him.
“Wasn’t that you who called me a masochistic asshole last week? Or am I thinking of someone else?”
I shrugged. “You’re different now. You were an ass then, though.”
“I was under a lot of pressure,” he said simply.
“And not now?”
“No.” He gestured around us. “We’re sitting in a bar at two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“With people still trying to kill us,” I reminded him, but my mood was light.
He shrugged with a sigh. “That’s the life I’m used to. It’s just another day. You have to learn to enjoy the good days in between the hard ones.”
“And today’s a good day?”
“After the last five…” He looked at me. “I would say so.”
I lifted my bottle. “Here’s to more good days.”
He clunked his bottle against mine and we both took a drink.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he examined his beer thoughtfully. “I’ll get back to my asshole ways once we’re on the move again, and you get back to being a pain in my ass.”
CHAPTER 16
I wouldn’t consider it a complete return to the old not-so-nice Nathan days, but he wasn’t exactly likable when we started training, or whatever he wanted to call it. I’d forgotten he had mentioned teaching me to use a few weapons. He hadn’t.
Developing hybrids usually reported to the base to start training right away. I would go there eventually, but since we had to hide out for a while longer and currently had Skotadi after us, he thought it was in my best interest to start training now, to learn how to defend myself. Apparently, when he lived on the base years ago, he had been one of the combat instructors, so he happened to know what I was missing out on. Lucky me.
I wasn’t as enthusiastic as he was. Really, I doubted he was as thrilled as he put on. I figured he was just stir crazy and viewed this as an opportunity to thwart the boredom. Whatever his reasons, he turned into a bossy tyrant again.
Morning of the first day had been exhaustingly boring, spent going over various weapons and how to use them. He made me shoot a few guns to ‘get a feel for them.’ I had decent aim, or so he said. As much as I hated the guns, I hated the knives more, especially since I knew that just a scratch from any of the diamond coated ones could kill me. Fortunately, he gave me a regular knife to practice with so I wouldn’t inadvertently kill myself. Or him.
After lunch, he suggested a lesson in hand-to-hand combat, and that was when things got interesting.
I shouldn’t have been excited about it, considering he was about to hand my ass to me without breaking a sweat. I had a moment of trepidation when we reached a flat area in the field Nathan declared a suitable location. That anxiety vanished when he removed his sweatshirt and tossed it to the ground. Luckily, his back was to me, and he didn’t catch my eyes bugging out of my head.
The black torn sleeveless t-shirt he had on underneath revealed the sculpted biceps he has been hiding all along, and the sides of the shirt scooped low enough that I glimpsed a smooth ripped chest when he turned. I was acutely aware that this was the first time I was seeing so much of him. It was nice, really nice.
His upper left arm was marked with a tattoo I couldn’t make out from the distance. Other than that, his skin was unmarked and flawless. Lean and smooth muscles blended and moved together like a marvelous piece of well-oiled machinery.
I’d bet he had one hell of a six pack.
“You change your mind?”
“Huh?” It took me a moment to realize he had been talking to me as I ogled him. That was what, the third time he has busted me now?
“I asked if you were ready,” he said slowly, like I was an idiot, which he probably thought I was by now.
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Let’s go.” I swung my arms and clasped them in front of me with a sharp nod of my head.
“Alright, then.” He took a wide stance, crossing his arms in front of him and, God help me, all I could think about was how sexy he looked. “What do you do if someone attacks you?”
It didn’t help my case that I hadn’t been prepared for a quiz first, and stared at him dumbly.
He tilted his head. “Take your time, Kris.”
“Shut up.” I could do this. I jutted my chin out at him. “Man or woman?”
He hesitated, clearly wondering where I was going with this. “Man.”
That was easy. “Kick him in his happy place.”
His lips twitched and I caught the brief twinkle in his eyes. It took visible effort, but he managed to keep a straight face—something he seemed to have a hard time doing around me lately. He considered my answer and nodded objectively. “Good tactic, and probably effective, but I think we’ll skip over practicing that one, if it’s okay with you.”
“Sure thing, coach,” I snickered.
“Plan B?”
I shrugged. “Run?”
He made a face. “How far do you think you would get before I caught you?”
From him? Not far. He knew that. He knew that I knew that. But honestly, what were my alternatives? He towered over me by nearly a foot and had eighty pounds on me. He was bigger, faster, and stronger. He was a trained part-god. I couldn't possibly compete with him.
I huffed. “You can’t expect me to stay and fight you. I’ve seen what you’re capable of. No thanks,” I said defensively. “Plus, look at you, look at me. It’s hardly a fair fight.”
“Exactly,” he exclaimed like I had said something brilliant. “There are ways to use your opponent’s size and strength against them, so that when you do run, you get away, and maybe they think twice about following.”
If it worked, he would be in serious trouble. “Okay, Sensei, and how do I do that?”
He spent the next half hour going over technique, and demonstrated a few maneuvers to incapacitate an opponent of any size. By the time he offered for me to try a few moves on him, I was giddy with excitement.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you?” I teased.
He didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
I scoffed. “You just taught me how to hurt you. Isn’t that an insult to your teaching skills?”
“It’s an insult to your ability to use what you’ve learned,” he returned quickly, and then relented some with an easy shrug. “It is your first time trying, after all.”
I would have been infuriated if that remark had come from anyone else. Coming from him, it sounded…right. Plus, from the smirk on his face, I knew he was teasing me. So Nathan wants to play? Game on. For dramatic effect, I stretched my arms behind me and tilted my head from side to side.
Nathan watched me, and waited. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he said casually.
I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at him. “Ready.”
I really was not ready when he lunged at me, and that was my excuse when I failed miserably and ended up restrained in his arms. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
He let me try over and over, and I failed each time. Finally, out of breath after five minutes, I stopped him. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing. You just need more practice. You can’t expect to be good at it the first time you try.”
“You’re really fast,” I panted as I clutched my side.
“You’ll get faster too.”
“You have an advantage right now,” I reminded him. “Just wait. I’m going to surprise you one of these days.”
He didn’t look convinced. That only made me more determined. Somewhere along the way, I had come to seek his approval, and dammit, I was going to get it.
In the following day
s, we fell into an easy rhythm: breakfast, weapons, lunch, hands-on combat. He bossed me around. I dug my feet in. He yelled at me. I yelled back.
A significant chunk of every morning was spent on target practice. I stood a chance at defending myself with a gun if I had to. Getting over the thought of shooting someone, even someone evil, would be my biggest hurdle.
What I excelled in was the physical stuff. Even after only a few days, I could already tell a difference. Nathan still handled me easily enough, but I was getting faster and building a stronger stamina, along with a decent right hook. One of these days, he wouldn’t block it fast enough, and I would get him.
I wanted to get him. Bad. It was more than to prove myself. That was part of it, but even more than that, and what surprised me the most, was that I had come to love the carnage.
The close physical contact with a really ripped, really hot trainer didn’t hurt.
And he was good at it. It was obvious he had been an instructor before. He was all about tough love. It was a good thing I had thick skin. If I hadn’t cried when he yelled at me last week, I wasn’t about to cry now.
I’d been close a few times, but attitude had prevailed. There had been a lot of vulgar language and use of obscene body language on my part, mostly to his back. Once I lifted a stiff middle finger to his face. That had earned me raised eyebrows and a snide, “very mature of you.” My response had been a haughty, “screw you, Nathan.”
That was the extent of our communication. He was more tolerable in the evenings, but by then, I was so tired, sore, and pissed off I didn’t want anything to do with him. Usually, I shoveled down food and went to bed.
Every night, I had some version of the same dream featuring the boy in white. I never got any closer to him, he never turned all the way around, and I never saw his face or heard his voice. Almost every time, some unseen force stabbed him in the torso, turning his crisp white ensemble into a gory sea of blood that sent me spiraling through the black abyss with an inaudible scream on my lips. Night after night, nothing changed.
Except for the increasing desperation to get to him, to speak to him, to...find him. I wasn’t sure if it was my desperation, or his, that I felt. I didn’t even know him, but every night, I woke with tears in my eyes and an ache in my chest. I didn’t understand any of it.
