Escape from Harrizel (52 page)

“Good,” he nods. “That’s good.”

“Well of
course
they’re angry,” Clark
gripes, “why wouldn’t they be? I am!”

“You’re
always
angry,” I snap, and,
fueled by everything rushing inside me, go on, “but I’m sure waking
up to your past can’t help.”

Clark’s brows sink low as he crosses his
arms in retaliation. “At least
I
have a life to go back
to.”

At this, the room sits silent. I’ve been
exposed as a five percent. That’s fine. It’s not like everyone here
wouldn’t find out at some point anyway. Inhaling deeply, Reid’s
bewildered stare barrels into me like a laser, zapping all the
breath I have from my gut. I force a look at him and when I do, my
heart nearly breaks. His face, so startled, so unsure and confused
looks as pained as I feel. Did he not hear through the grape-vine
like Clark?

“Well I don’t either,” Pratt’s strong voice
breaks the hard silence.

“Me neither,” Jace admits.

“Or me,” Tucker adjusts after a moment,
everyone then looking to him. “So there are a few of us a little
angry
too
. But maybe we can leave ourselves out of this and
focus on the plan now?”

“Right,” Clarence agrees, leaning forward
and threading his fingers together on the table. “So if anger’s the
common theme here, does it translate well? Are we seeing an army
form? Or do they need further guidance?”

“They seem thoroughly motivated,” Reid
chimes in, speaking directly to Clarence, “they just need practice.
But once Beshib returns, they’ll be ready.”

“What about combat?” Vix suggests. “Hand to
hand? If Beshib’s bringing back any elder members of the Vermix,
they’ll fight in the ancient ways. They’ll disarm half the humans
before they’re even able to fire a single shot.”

“We can’t teach them that kind of combat in
a few days time,” Clarence laughs, “it takes
years
of
training—and that’s for a Dofinike.”

“I thought someone of your habits didn’t
distinguish much between humans and Dofinikes?” Vix poses with an
accusing undertone I don’t miss. The question hangs in the air,
Clarence shaking his head and turning to Sampson instead.

“It doesn’t make sense. They should be
trained on weapons alone. You know, as
I
do, once they’re at
combat stage, the fight is already won.”

Sampson nods, considering his statement. I
risk a glance to Reid who’s waiting for a reply like the rest of
us. Instinctively, his eyes fly to me, the fire searing me again. A
large lump rolls down his throat but he breaks the connection,
looking back to Sampson.

“We can set some time aside,” Sampson
decides, “a few hours at the most, for combat training. The rest of
the time will be spent learning weapons and practicing.”

“Has anyone requested to see the mutations?”
I ask.

“Yes, actually,” Sampson nods, “a few people
have come to me, asking to be taken there.”

“So outings will have to be arranged at some
point,” I exhale, “depending on how many want to go?”

“Enough to be broken into groups, I’d say.
We can take a few in the morning, a few at midday.”

“Good,” I nod. “It’ll give them more fuel.
Make them want it more.”

“They’re already pretty fueled,” Reid
replies without meeting my eye. Something in his voice stresses
another meaning, “And ready to fight
now
.”

“And that’s good,” Sampson continues,
“because Blovid said they may be returning early…” he glances to
Clarence for confirmation, “…is that correct?”

Hanging his head slightly, Clarence nods in
agreement, “Yes… we’re not sure when.”

“Wait,” I sit forward, a bolt of fear
striking my brain. How have I not thought of this sooner? “But if
you’re both communicating with Blovid… what’s keeping Tetlak or Jeb
from contacting Beshib?”

“Pillypees,” Sampson answers, “the
sleep
serum. As long as we continue giving them regular
doses, they won’t be able to notify Beshib.”

“So who’s giving them doses?” I ask.

“Rogues are taking shifts,” Tucker clears
his throat. “Should be Niles’ turn now.”

“My question,” Clark speaks up, “although no
one asked me, is
when
are we returning home? If all goes
well, when are those of us who are able, going to be taken
back?”

Clarence and Sampson exchange glances with
one another, a subtle gesture Clark doesn’t miss.

“Look,” he scoffs, “I’m sorry if that sounds
bad but I want to know. I have a
right
to know. So do the
others,” he gestures to them, hoping they’ll back his argument. But
they remain quiet, motionless, simply watching. Sitting back
comfortably, Clark begins to barter unnecessarily, “If we fight for
you, in
your
war, then we should…”

“For
your
freedom,” I add under my
breath.

He flies forward with a snarl. “No one’s
talking to you,
Francie
.”

“Hey,” Able pitches in. “
Back off
.
You’re lucky you’re even here.”

“Yeah,” Jace laughs, “and you’re wearing on
my nerves so it’d be wise…” he cracks his knuckles loudly.

Harrison chortles just as Clark’s face turns
a bright red, “Look at him—scared stiff. What do you say we throw
old Chief in?” he jerks his head to the silent Indian, “Just for
shits and giggles?”

“Heh,” Kelly mumbles to himself, unimpressed
as he goes on, picking his nails.

“Guys,” Tucker commands the room. “Come on,
focus.”

“You can’t side with this guy,” Jace motions
to Clark, suppressing a pathetic laugh. “He’s a mouse. And he’s
being a dick to Fallon.”

It warms my heart to know the Rogues would
stand behind me like this—most at least, except for Reid, who’s
been sitting quietly, watching everything without any comment.

Unable to help myself, I turn to Clark. “And
it’s Fallon to you,
Kurt
.”

“That’s right,” he hisses in response,
finding his strength again, if only to tear me down a little. “I
am
Kurt. I’m Kurt Clark. Born 1984 in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Abducted 2008 on my way home from the campus library,” he fumes at
Clarence, “and taken here, to a prison—a waste of my time and
talent for
two
years. I’m sorry, but I want to know…”

Jace cracks his knuckles again, Kelly
picking his nails with a new tool he’s produced. It’s small,
capable of hiding easily in the palm of a hand.

Clark gulps, deciding if it’s best to keep
going but before he can make up his mind, Reid draws the attention
back to himself.

“If we return… is it to the same time?”

“Same time,” Clarence responds first. “To
the
exact
moment. It’d be as if this never happened—any of
it.”

“And we wouldn’t remember?” Reid clears his
throat, finding focus with the table, unable to look up. A punch to
my gut and all the air has been vacuumed from my chest.

“Not a clue,” Clarence shakes his head.
“You’d just be older and mostly, none the wiser. Although…” and he
debates revealing this, strumming his fingers on the table, “dreams
may
occur. Habitually, if they’re strong.”

“What do you mean?” Reid narrows his
eyes.

“Well,” Clarence sits back, threading his
fingers over his stomach, “you wouldn’t remember this place because
it’d be like it never happened. But it
did
. It’s happening
right now,” he glances around the table, “and even if we wave our
hand and make it all disappear, it’s still in you. Still part of
your core, your physical being. A small part of you will always be
aware—and it’s in your dreams that it’ll reveal itself. Whatever
you keep hidden away, locked here—it will reveal itself every
night. You’ll see it and not understand it.”

“So you’re saying I’ll never get rid of this
place?” Clark groans under his breath.

“Come on….you should be used to nightmares
by now,” Able grins.

I piggyback off his comment, “Hope I say
hi.”

Clark recoils. “It almost doesn’t seem worth
it to be haunted by
you
.”

“No it doesn’t,” Reid mutters to himself as
I glance over. His eyes quickly fly from mine, landing on Sampson.
“How long will it take?”

“Hmm?”

“To transport everyone back? How long? A few
weeks or so?”

“I think we could manage in about a day.
Maybe two.”

“A day or two?” Clark gasps. “That’s
wonderful! We could be back home in about a week!”

“Well,” Clarence sits up, “let’s not get
ahead of ourselves. Even if Beshib comes
tomorrow
—and I’m
not saying he will—that doesn’t mean the fight won’t go on for a
bit. Knowing him, he won’t surrender until he’s dead. This,”
Clarence takes a breath, “may last for a while.”

Clark lets out a loud gruff.

I look to Sampson, “Really? All four hundred
or so in two days?”

“The actual transporting doesn’t take very
much time at all,” he nods, “it’s locating the
when
that
eats away the minutes.”

“So, once we’ve won…” I start.

“Everyone will be on their way home!” Clark
slaps on more enthusiasm, nearly all the Rogues’ eyes narrowing to
sharp slits, sending a violent wave of fury his way.

But he’s right. If we win this battle, the
next topic will be returning everyone home who’s able. It’s
inevitable. Still, the familiar pain shoots up my chest as I force
myself to see only Sampson and concern myself with what’s
immediately at stake. We haven’t won yet.

“And Beshib?” I try, “Do you have any
additional information on him? Can you communicate with him the
same way you do as Blovid?”

“We can’t make connection with him—our lines
have been cut off now for a while.”

“Lines?” Able asks curiously.

“Yes, lines of communication,” Clarence
explains, “like a tunnel to hear another’s thoughts. Dofinikes are
born with an ability to be able to listen and
be
listened
to. We can suffocate a tunnel though, if we no longer trust the
connection or, if it’s serious, the tunnel can be severed
completely. Knowing Beshib has partnered with Reuzkimpart, we
severed the link a long time ago.”

“Well what about Tetlak?” I ask,
“
Jeb
? They’d know something, right? I’m sure they have
something
useful we can use.”

“Tetlak would never talk,” Clarence shakes
his head, “but Jeb may. What do you think?” he poses to Sampson
with a bit of a shrug. “Want to have a little chat with our old
friend?”

“Certainly. Tucker?”

Tucker rises to a stand, moving for the
room’s exit as he pokes his head out. Speaking lowly, he whispers
something before returning and taking his seat again. “Well I know
your
question’s been answered,” he glares at Clark, “but
mine
hasn’t been.”

“And that is?” Clarence turns to him,
sitting back once more.

“What happens after this? After Beshib
returns and everyone’s been taken back… What happens then?”

“You mean,” Pratt speaks up. “What’s going
to happen to
us
?”

“Well…” Sampson clears his voice. “I’d
assume you’d want to accompany us further. This battle is not the
last fight in this war but perhaps… merely… just the beginning. I’d
hoped you’d continue with the Arizals. Of course, you have allies
here—friends.”

Tucker, Jace and Pratt exchange glances,
then look to me. I nod, speaking for all. “I think that sounds
good.”

“Great,” Clark rushes us on, “next
topic…”

“Hinson,” Griffin speaks up, startling me.
With his overpowering silence, I forgot he was here. “When do we
get a cure for Hinson?”

Sampson and Clarence eye one another before
Clarence takes a breath. He leans forward, toward Griffin. “That
depends. I’d have to assess the damage. Possibly have the healers
take a look. But… it’d take time.”

“I can wait.”

Another worried glance and Clarence goes on.
“You’re more than welcome to wait, Griffin, as long as you want…
but please understand, it’ll take time some time…” he’s careful
with his words, “…if there even
is
a cure, and it’s not the
next item on the agenda.”

“I said I can wait,” Griffin repeats, just
as Merritt walks in, half-dragging Jeb in his human form. The two
stagger closer, Jeb just awakening and drunkenly leaning on Merritt
who seats him in the empty section between Clarence and
Griffin.

Clarence smiles at him. “Very good—we’ll see
if Jeb knows anything. Jeb? You awake?”

“Hmm?” His eyes open groggily, looking
around.

“Wake up, buddy,” Clarence slaps him on the
back. “What do you think?”

“Please repeat the question,” Jeb mumbles,
rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“The people you’ve been taking. The,” I
hesitate at the word, saying it gently for Griffin’s sake,
“
experiments
out in the woods—can you fix them?”

Blinking, Jeb wakes up, surprised to see me.
“Fallon.”

“Answer the question.”

He takes a moment to consider it, keeping
our eye contact locked. Finally, he shakes his head. “No. They
cannot be fixed. Not in the way you’d want them to be. They are
attempts at a whole—at something better than themselves, so to fix
them would be to
complete
them, which is being perfected in
the laboratories.”

“Not anymore,” Jace says.

“Nope…” Harrison echoes behind him,
“
all
done.”

Surprised for only a moment, Jeb brushes his
face clean with serenity. “Fallon, please believe me—it’s best this
way. Your prime utilization was questioned many times. You can
give
,” he glances to my stomach, then back to me, “so much
more than just service.”

“How do you undo it?” I ask through gritted
teeth.

“There is no undoing.”

I’m afraid to go on, knowing Griffin is in
the room but since we’re here, since he’s able to tell us, I can’t
stop now. I need to know, and so do the rest of us. “Why not?”