by Mia Sheridan
His gaze moved over the fighting men who held spears and shields and . . . bows and arrows. What had Driscoll said all that time ago?
Survival is the greatest training of all.
His brain was buzzing again, and he couldn’t grab hold of his thoughts. He looked around again but didn’t see anything else. What he already had was enough though. Enough to tell him something awful was going on. Something that could turn his whole world upside down.
Again.
He left the house in the same way he’d come, closing the window behind him and walking to the road. He’d always stayed away from it because Driscoll had told him to. Driscoll told him a lot of things. Too many things. His head hurt and his skin felt itchy all over, but he ignored the feelings, pulling his heavy coat around himself and walking on. He found the road and followed it, walking for hours, until he came to another road, and then another. No cars passed him, but he was ready to hide if they did.
That third road led to a bigger road that was made of hard stuff. He left his flat shoes leaning against a tree, ducking behind it as a car zoomed by, stepping out after it was only a speck in the close faraway. He walked again, hiding when he heard a car coming and then stepping out when it was gone.
After a while, cars came by every few minutes, and Jak spotted the tops of buildings just over a hill.
He was hungry and thirsty, and he’d been walking for hours, but he moved toward those buildings, his heart beating quickly in his chest like he was walking toward death. Maybe he was. His soul felt like it was dying with each step, each car that drove by, the drivers not looking scared, even laughing.
Jak walked into the town of Helena Springs at almost night, the lights of the town blinking on and glowing bright. He wondered if maybe he was dreaming. If he’d fallen asleep by the riverbank under the warm sun and later he’d wake, Pup licking his face and telling him it was time to hunt.
Helena Springs, he repeated in his mind as he read the sign. It sounded like he’d known it a long time ago maybe, but wasn’t sure. He’d lived in Missoula with his baka. And Missoula was in Montana. Montana was in the United States. The United States was in the . . . world. That’s all he knew. His baka had given him a globe once, and he knew about a few other places, knew the world was round, but mostly, he didn’t remember.
He ducked into a dark doorway, looking across the street at the place named on the little piece of paper in Driscoll’s house: Peg’s Diner. It was bright inside and a woman in a pink dress with an apron stood behind a counter, pouring something for people sitting in front of her. Off to the side, there was a glass case filled with . . . pies. His eyes moved slowly, his vision blurred. Sitting at a table at the window was a mom and a little boy, the boy bringing some kind of food to his mouth. A burger. He knew what it was—remembered eating one himself—and even as his head swam, his body would not go quiet and his stomach growled loudly. The boy’s mother smiled at whatever the boy had just said, picking up her own food and taking a bite.
Jak was hungry. Hungry and hurting and alone.
Scared. Confused.
A sound came up Jak’s throat, something he’d never made before.
A couple walked by the diner, holding hands and talking, the man throwing his head back and laughing at something the woman said.
There was no war.
No enemy.
It was a quiet town on a peace-filled night.
Jak had been lied to.
Tricked.
Why, why, why?
The world started spinning.
He fell down to the ground, holding his head as his body began shaking. It had all been a lie.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jak was filled with a breath-stealing mix of happiness and fear. He had someone to trust, someone he might be able to open up to. Maybe not about everything, but most of it. Someone caring and kind, a woman who made his heart thump louder in his chest and made the blood rush more quickly through his veins. A woman he wanted in every way.
He didn’t want anyone to know every terrible thing about the ways he’d survived, but he could tell her most of it. Even he tried to forget some parts, shivered when a memory came to him without him reaching for it. He was afraid Harper would be . . . disgusted if she knew all he’d done to live, but he was also afraid she’d think he was a stupid child to be tricked the way he’d been. All his life . . . a lie, and he still didn’t know the reason why.
Would he ever know now that Driscoll was dead? Did it even matter? He was who he was. That was all.
Harper stood in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together, warming them. He let his eyes move down her body, wanting to pull at her pants, to kneel behind her and put his tongue between her legs from that position. Would she let him? Would her knees shake? Would she touch him again the way she had before? He wanted to make her shake and cry out his name again. Male animals made it known what they wanted and waited for the female to give a sign she wanted it too. But how did a man ask for something like that? Words had made her blush before, and he still wasn’t exactly sure why, but he didn’t think asking for it with words was the right thing to do.
Should he just . . . touch her? Would she like that?
Animals made it easier than people.
She turned, giving him a smile over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she caught his gaze like she’d read the thoughts on his face. The quiet sound of footsteps in the snow caught his attention, soft but coming closer. He turned from Harper, moving toward the door. Listening. Waiting for a scent. The sound got closer, then someone was climbing his steps. A man. That was followed by a knock.
Jak tensed, a growl rising in his throat. When he saw that Harper was looking at him, he snapped his mouth closed, making his body loosen.
He moved closer to the door just as a male voice called, “Lucas, it’s Agent Gallagher.”
Lucas.
He’d already forgotten that name.
He frowned as he went to his window and peeked out. The man was standing to the side of the door, in a huge puffy jacket, and boots with fur at the top that came from a type of animal Jak had never seen in nature. No weapon and . . . no car, which meant wherever he’d come from, he’d walked.
“You can trust him, Jak,” Harper said, coming up behind him and putting her hand on his arm. “I do.”
He realized how tightly he’d been holding his body and met her eyes, nodding. When he opened his door, the agent’s gaze went quickly behind him to where Harper was standing. He let out a breath. “Good, you’re here.” He looked at Jak. “May I come in?”
Jak opened the door wider and the agent came in, looking around the cabin as he took off his big coat. “I was concerned,” he said, again to Harper, giving Jak a look that he knew meant he didn’t trust him all the way. Jak could understand that, but he didn’t like this man worrying about the woman he was already thinking of as his own. He wanted that to be his job.
“I’m fine,” Harper said, taking his jacket, and hanging it on the hook on the wall next to where she’d hung hers. Jak liked that she already knew his house, liked that she was acting like she lived there. “Were you looking for me?”
“Yeah. I’ve called you several times. When you didn’t answer, I got worried. I remembered you said you were thinking of coming here.”
Harper frowned. “Oh, I didn’t see that I had any missed calls. The reception is so spotty out here. Maybe your messages hadn’t come through before I moved into a spot where there wasn’t any service.”
The agent gave Jak another look that had something in it Jak didn’t know the name for. It wasn’t a good look though. It told Jak the agent had wondered if Jak had hurt Harper and had come to rescue her if she needed rescuing. Jak had thought he’d had nice eyes in the sheriff building, but now he didn’t like him.
“I’ve sort of fallen down on the job you asked me to do if you’re driving yourself out here.” Harper looked back and forth between the agent and Jak with a nervous smi
le on her face like she wanted them to be friends.
The agent laughed shortly. “No, it’s okay. I see why you stayed here. I had the deputy drop me at the nearby road and then I walked. It’s like an ice forest out there.”
“Oh.” Harper frowned again. “I hate that you had to do that because of me. Thank you for your concern.” She looked at Jak. “But really, I’m just fine.” She smiled at him and then she blushed. Jak looked at the agent, hoping he’d seen it and knew what it meant.
“I’m actually glad I drove out.” He gave Jak a small smile. “Or walked as the case may be. I wanted to talk to you anyway. I’ve found out a few things that I think you should know about. And, I’m hoping you’ll answer a few more questions.”
“Do you want to sit down?” Harper cut in, leading the agent to Jak’s table. He watched them for a minute as Harper pointed to one of the stools, making sure he was comfortable. That’s where Jak had sat with Harper, and he felt something odd bubbling in his chest. No, not bubbling . . . but . . . he hated that he couldn’t even explain to himself how he felt from minute to minute. Maybe if he could explain how he felt, he could talk himself out of it. As it was, all he had were the feelings. Nothing else.
After they’d both sat, Jak walked slowly to the table, joining them. The agent was watching him, the look on his face not mean and Jak stared back. He knew that if another male stared at him, he could not be the first to look away, or it would show fear. The agent knew that too, he could tell.
“Lucas—”
Harper cleared her throat, giving Jak a look.
“Am I missing something here?”
Jak sighed. He had told Harper his name and didn’t want her to have to lie for him. “I lied about my name. My name is Jak. I told the truth when I said I didn’t know my last name.”
The agent tilted his head. “Why did you give me a false name?”
“I didn’t know if I could trust you.” I still don’t.
The man looked at him for a beat, two, but then nodded. “I understand.” Jak watched him, nodded back. “Jak then . . . can you tell me again what you remember about being left out here by your parents?”
“I . . . don’t remember anything, except being alone and having to . . . survive.”
“That’s all? Nothing more? Nothing about . . . being dropped off out here? Nothing before that?”
Jak shook his head, not looking at Harper. He hated lying in front of her. It made him feel bad inside after they’d shared truth, after she’d told him her secrets. He battled inside his own mind, not knowing what to do, trying hard to go through the reasons he should tell the truth, and the reasons he should not.
Agent Gallagher sighed and they were all quiet for a minute, something in the air that made Jak . . . unsure. The older man laced his fingers together, his hands on the table. “Jak, can I tell you why I moved here to Montana? Why I took a new job at fifty-four, instead of staying in California at a job I loved? In the house my wife and I had put so much work into? The place where we’d raised our daughter?”
Jak tried to hide his surprise. He nodded slowly. Harper seemed surprised too as she watched the agent.
Agent Gallagher let out a long, slow breath. “Our only child, Abbi, died of leukemia three years ago. She was twenty years old. She’d been battling the disease since she was seventeen and a senior in high school. We—” His voice broke off then, and Jak could hear the breakable sadness in it, like the distant snap of something in the faraway that you couldn’t name but knew had lost a piece of itself. “We buried her and we tried to find a reason to go on living.” He paused for a long time, looking down at his hands.
Jak noticed Harper had the same look of sadness on her face as Agent Gallagher’s. I understand you, her look said. She was kind. Good. It made Jak feel . . . soft toward her.
“One day my wife and I were in the grocery store and we ran into one of Abbi’s best friends, Ella. We hadn’t seen her since the funeral and . . . well, she was six months pregnant, excited to be expecting her first. We said all the right things, I suppose. Smiled. But . . . it broke us. My wife and I went home and sat there and it was”—he shook his head—“it was like losing her all over again. Losing what would have been. We lived in a tight community. We knew we’d watch—even if from a distance—all of Abbi’s friends get married, have children and it . . . it felt unbearable.”
He looked up at Jak and Harper, giving them a sad smile. “Laurie’s sister lives in Montana and is raising two boys on her own. She’d been a great support to Laurie, and Laurie had been a great support to her when she went through her divorce, but she was far away. I thought I was doing the right thing when I applied to the Montana Department of Justice. I thought . . . a new start is what we needed. Somewhere the memories aren’t crushing at every turn. Somewhere we have family. And”—he took a deep breath—“all that’s been good. But the problem is, we still look at each other and all we see is Abbi. All we see are those hospital rooms, our daughter slipping away, and then that . . . casket.”
He was quiet again and then he looked at Jak. “That’s what brought me to Montana, Jak. I’m here because I was running away, but I didn’t get far enough. I’m here because the thing I loved most in this world, my complete family, is no longer in it, and I can’t make sense of how we’ll ever be happy again. I’m lost, and I think you are too. And I’m not sure what can be done about my own situation, but I hope you’ll let me help you with yours.”
A tear slipped down Harper’s cheek, and she wiped at it quickly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and Agent Gallagher nodded, giving her a sad smile.
Jak let out a breath, running a hand over his jaw, still confused, but feeling . . . like he had two people who might . . . who might be on his side. A breeze blew through him, carrying happiness. Fear.
“I woke up at the edge of a cliff. There was a man. He told me it might be the day I would die,” he said, the words tumbling over each other like they’d been a pile of sticks dammed up for a long time and finally been pushed free.
Harper’s eyes went wide and she tilted her head, surprise so clear in her face. He pressed his lips together, not moving his eyes from hers. “But a huge piece of ice moved, making snow slide. I . . . went over.” He looked away. He wouldn’t tell about the other kids. If they knew about them, they’d find out he killed one of them. They’d find out all the other bad things he’d done. And if they found all that out, he’d stay in that tiny cage with the bad smells. He’d die there. Alone.
Harper’s face had lost color and her body was held stiff. “I don’t understand.”
Agent Gallagher gave her a look that Jak didn’t understand. But the words inside him were moving—the dam had broken. He’d never said these words to another living person.
“I didn’t then. I still don’t. I know that Driscoll was . . . in on it somehow, but he wasn’t the man on the cliff. Driscoll told me there was a war.”
“A war?” Agent Gallagher asked, and Harper seemed to lose more color.
Jak looked away from her. He hated the look on her face—unbelieving. He didn’t know if she couldn’t believe what was done to him, or if she couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it. Maybe he didn’t want to know. For the first time since he’d started talking, he wasn’t sure he should go on. But there didn’t seem to be a way to go back now.
“Jak,” Agent Gallagher said and Jak looked at the man instead of Harper. That made it easier. He wanted so much for her to think good things of him. But he didn’t want her to leave either. He wanted her to know him, to understand him.
Maybe not all. Not that wild part he kept hidden inside. The part that had come out when he was starving and suffering, the part that he never wanted to come out ever again. But most. As much as he could let her and still have her want him.
Jak told the agent about Isaac Driscoll, about the war, about the enemy and what had kept Jak alone all this time.
“Do you know why he would do tha
t? Lie to you that way?”
Jak shook his head, the anger rising like a wave. “No. He was watching me though. There were cameras in the trees.”
“Cameras?” Agent Gallagher leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “Where?”
“I can’t see them anymore. They’re gone. I think Driscoll took them down.” He must have noticed Jak had stolen the pictures. Known he’d been in his cabin. Known he’d found out the truth.
Agent Gallagher frowned. “Okay. Do you have any idea where the recordings were going?”
Recordings? Jak didn’t know what that word meant. “I thought they took pictures. I don’t know where the pictures are,” he lied. He’d torn them into little pieces and thrown them in the river, watched them float away.
The agent paused. “Okay. Okay. And the man on the cliff, you’ve never seen him again?”
Jak shook his head.
“Jak, can you tell me what you remember before that?”
Jak glanced at Harper, the sight of her there beside him helping him to feel brave. “A woman raised me until I was almost eight,” Jak said. “I don’t know her name. I think it was something that started with A. She said words different than the people on the TV and she told me to talk like them, not like her. I called her Baka.” He told Agent Gallagher about how she’d taught him to read, and how to count, and to believe that he was strong. “That’s all I remember. I haven’t seen her since the night I fell asleep in my bed and then woke up . . . out here.”
Harper looked sad and so did Agent Gallagher as he nodded. They were quiet for a minute before he said. “Thank you, Jak, for telling me the truth. You’ve given me lots of good information to work with.” He paused for a second. “One of the things I need to tell you is that the woman murdered in town, the one we questioned you about? Jak, she was your mother.”
Harper let out a small gasp. His mother. His mother. The hairs on Jak’s neck stood up. “My mother?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his thighs. They felt cold and sweaty. His mother was dead? The woman who had brought him books and told him she would come back for him? Ice ran down his spine.