Hard Instincts

by Chloe Fischer

  Darren began to screech, grabbing his right arm with his left hand. He fell to the ground, writhing as the other children watched in horror.

  Sabrina’s blue eyes slowly moved up toward Ryder’s face.

  He glanced toward her and saw the cuts on her legs. He closed his eyes, willing away the bad thoughts to summon his healing strength and push it towards her. But before she even noticed the warmth filling her traumatized skin as her gashes began to close, she rushed toward him, slapping his face.

  “What did you do to Darren?” she screamed. “What did you do?”

  Stunned, Ryder’s eyes flew open and he regarded her disbelievingly.

  “What? I didn’t do anything!” he protested, uncomprehendingly. She continued to slap his already bruised and bleeding face and before Ryder could stop himself, the rage overtook him.

  Again, there was a loud crack and Sabrina’s hand went limp in mid-smack. She stared at her broken wrist, her lips pulling tight as her howls screeched through his ears. Ryder never forgot the look of pure hatred that spewed from her eyes, even twenty years later.

  “Ryder? Did you hear what I said about Sabrina?” Helen asked. He nodded, suppressing the images of that day from his mind.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to visit her?”

  “Probably not.”

  Helen Quinn stifled a sigh and stared at her plate.

  “Ryder, don’t you ever think about settling down? Having kids of your own?”

  Ryder tried not to grunt but he could not stop it in time.

  “How did saying hello to Sabrina translate into getting married and having kids?” he tried to joke but his parents were not feeling jovial. To them, it was not an amusing matter. It seemed his lifestyle was growing increasingly disturbing to them as time went on and nothing Ryder said could alleviate their disapproval.

  “Perhaps it’s time you thought of your responsibilities closer to home. Your mother and I aren’t getting any younger, you know,” Joe accused.

  “I don’t want a job closer to home. And I don’t want a wife and kids.”

  He did not meet their eyes but he could feel the accusing disappointment emanating from them.

  “Ryder, you can’t live your whole life traipsing about the world,” Helen insisted. “It’s just plain foolish. And what about us? I want grandchil – “

  “Mom, I really don’t feel like having this conversation,” Ryder sighed, placing his fork on his plate. “I am sorry if my life choices are hard for you to accept but I should remind you that they are mine, not yours.”

  He rose from the table, his appetite gone.

  “Where are you going?” Joe demanded. “You didn’t finish your dinner!”

  “I have work to do,” Ryder lied. “Thanks for supper, mom.”

  He did not wait for the couple to answer, slipping from the dining room.

  At the stairs, he paused for some reason he did not understand and listened. It was as if something had physically stopped him from ascending the steps to the second floor.

  “I give up,” Helen said flatly. “We have done everything we can for him and he chooses to be an outcast.”

  “He is not an outcast!” Joe denied angrily. “He is just…a little self centered. He has needs which we don’t understand.”

  “We should never have agreed to this, Joe. We should have found Berkley when Ryder was of age and reunited him with his real father.”

  “Shh! Quiet Helen!”

  “He’s thirty-three years old. I think it’s time he learns he’s not our son.”

  “And then what? Upset everything he’s always known about himself? What good would telling him such a thing do? It’s cruel and unnecessary,” Joe growled. “He’s gone his whole life not knowing any differently. You have never given Ryder a chance, not from the moment he walked into this house!”

  “How could I? He is not normal! I had hoped he would outgrow whatever influence his family had on him but he’s only grown worse over the years! He’s a nomad with no friends! I don’t even know what he does for a living, Joe!”

  “He doesn’t tell us because his work is classified. What he does is important. Don’t let your desire to have grandkids cloud the fact we have a good son.”

  “He is not our son, Joe and he never has been.”

  The words were shocking and yet somehow, Ryder felt as if he had always known the truth deep down. In fact, he suddenly felt freer, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  It explained so much about him and his relationship with the Quinns.

  Swallowing deeply, Ryder scaled the stairs two at a time and made his way into the room which he had always thought of as his.

  He closed the door and sat at the small work desk, his mind racing as he thought back to the redheaded woman and dark-haired man from his dreams.

  Were they memories or was it something I concocted in my subconscious?

  There were so many indications that he did not belong to the Quinns and yet he had always managed to brush them aside.

  If I am not their son, then who am I? He wondered.

  A feeling inside him was insisting that he needed to learn the truth about himself.

  And God! It would be nice to unlock the secret of my freakishness.

  The cellphone on his bedside rang late in the night but Ryder was still awake, waiting. He had sensed Riverville was about to call. He had already been in Seattle for a week and it was unusual for him to be home for such a long time without an assignment.

  “Berlin. Thursday, 0730. Lufthansa, flight 712. Seattle-Tacoma Airport.”

  The phone disconnected and Ryder slipped the device under his pillow.

  Berlin.

  It had been three years since he had been called to Berlin. Who could it be?

  It didn’t matter; Ryder knew he would get his orders when he arrived but he was again filled with a slight sense that something was amiss.

  Thursday was two days away, another unusual factor. It was not often he was afforded so much time to prepare.

  Maybe they are trying to give me some extra time with my loving parents, Ryder thought wryly.

  At dawn, he heard his father rise and head into the kitchen.

  Ryder lay on top of his covers where he had been all night and debated his next move.

  I should learn the truth, no matter how devastating it may be, he decided. It is time that I learn who am I and where I come from.

  He rose slowly, stretching and then breathing deeply, as if summoning strength from his core for the conversation he was about to have.

  “Good morning, Dad,” Ryder said as he stole into the kitchen. He had not seen either of his parents since the previous night at dinner and Joe jumped slightly at the sound of his voice.

  “Good morning, son,” Joe replied, realizing it was only Ryder. “I’m just putting on some coffee. I bet you could use some at this hour.”

  “Sounds good,” Ryder agreed.

  Ryder sat at the kitchen table and peered pensively at the only father figure he had ever known. Well, at least the only one he remembered.

  “Dad,” he said quietly. “Whose son am I?”

  Joe spun, his face ashen.

  “Wh-what?” he stuttered. “What kind of question is that? You’re my son. Mine and your mother’s of course!”

  “I heard you and mom talking last night and I wasn’t even that surprised by the news. Honestly. But how did I come to be here? Who is Berkley?”

  It was as if all the bluster suddenly left Joe’s frail frame and he sank into a chair next to his son.

  “Ryder, please know that I never wanted you to know,” he whispered, tears filling his watery blue eyes. “I am so sorry you heard your mother last night. She didn’t mean it the way she said it. You know your mother. Sometimes she comes across much harsher than she intends.”

  Ryder smiled tautly.

  “It’s fine, Dad. Let’s face it, I’ve never really fit in with the suburban Seattle
ites too well. I’m a big boy. Why don’t you tell me who I am now?”

  Joe shook his head.

  “It’s not that simple,” he told Ryder slowly. “And it’s a very long story.”

  Ryder grinned mirthlessly.

  “I’m leaving in two days. Do you think it will take that long?”

  Joe’s face clouded with concern.

  “Where are you going this time?” he asked. “Why are you always gone so quickly?”

  Ryder didn’t tell his father that he already felt like he had been home for an eternity.

  “Please, Dad just tell me what you know.”

  The coffee maker sputtered and Joe jumped up as if grateful for the distraction, rushing to pour two cups.

  He was silent as he worked and Ryder tried to mask his impatience.

  “Dad…”

  “Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts, Ryder!”

  His voice was uncharacteristically gruff and Ryder closed his mouth. A stab of guilt coursed through him.

  This can’t be easy for him either, Ryder realized.

  “You were about five years old when you came to us. We didn’t know for certain. We weren’t told anything about you. Not your age, your blood type, nothing. All we were told was that you were in grave danger and needed protection.”

  Ryder’s eyebrows shot up dubiously.

  “Were you in the habit of taking in stray children under those circumstances back in the 80s?” he asked wryly. Joe scowled at his tone.

  “You were our first and only,” he replied. Joe reclaimed his chair but kept his eyes fixated on the cup before him.

  “Berkley was my boss’ boss back then. I worked for the Department of Defence but only in administration. I didn’t know anything about anything. I still don’t, not really, but you hear stories, even when things are meant to be kept top secret.”

  “I am this Berkley’s son?” Ryder asked, his eyes narrowing. What his father was telling him didn’t make sense.

  Is he lying to me? Is there something he doesn’t want me to know?

  “No, Ryder. We don’t know whose son you are. We don’t know anything about you. We were told your name is Ryder but it could be anything. You haven’t been legally adopted because we were told that one day, you would be taken back to your real family. That day never came.”

  Ryder peered at him speculatively.

  Mom wouldn’t have allowed for an adoption anyway.

  “What happened to Berkley? Didn’t you ask him when someone was coming to pick up this kid who was just dropped on your doorstep one day? Why would you agree to something so ludicrous?”

  Joe sighed and took a sip of his steaming drink.

  “Your mom and I could not have children of our own,” Joe said quietly. “We were so happy to take you in without asking any questions. It was my boss asking after all and you don’t say no to a man that high up on the food chain – besides, he knew that we had been trying to have a kid for years. We were…desperate. You were such a serious boy and so bright, so inquisitive. At first, your mom….umm, Helen, was over the moon about having you in our lives. She begged me not to press Berkley about you and I agreed. You were the son I always wanted.”

  Ryder smirked.

  “At first, huh?”

  Joe swallowed visibly and nodded.

  “You must understand, Ryder, we love you. You have always been our son but you began to exhibit traits that we couldn’t understand. Helen grew afraid of what you could do.”

  A dozen half flashes coursed through Ryder’s mind as he recalled how many times he had injured others in anger.

  But I never healed anyone again after that incident with Sabrina, he thought darkly. No one deserved his healing, only his wrath. After that day, he had made it a policy not to get involved with other’s lives.

  Their fate rests in their god, he often thought.

  He suddenly understood why Helen Quinn would have grown alarmed by his abilities, but the comprehension did not make him feel any less devastated.

  I am a dark soul that even a mother didn’t love, he silently shrugged humorlessly.

  “Why didn’t you contact Berkley?” Ryder asked again, willing the sick feeling of disappointment from his stomach.

  Joe sighed again.

  “I tried. By then, I had left the Department of Defence and gone into the private sector. I had not spoken to Berkley in years. When I tried to reach out to him, I learned he had been killed by an underground militia group he had been hunting for years. They were highly elusive and ruthless, from what I remember. Ryder, I think that group was the reason you were hidden away. I think they were the ones seeking you out to harm you.”

  Ryder stared at Joe, his mind trying to understand what he had learned.

  I was sent away by my own family to live with perfect strangers, strangers who ended up not wanting me. When they tried to send me back, they learned they were stuck because the contact who had sent me to them was murdered. I would have been shipped off somewhere else by the only people I have ever known as parents if Berkley was still around. In my life, I have been cast aside by every family I have ever known.

  Perversely, Ryder began to laugh. Joe looked at him in surprise.

  “Why are you laughing?” he asked nervously and Ryder shook his head.

  “No reason, Dad,” he chortled, rising to his feet. “Tell Mom that she doesn’t need to be afraid any more. I won’t be back.”

  “Ryder, wait!” Joe cried after him but Ryder was already out the front door. He was still reeling as he walked down the street, taking deep breaths to clear his head.

  He had always been on his own.

  Now he knew it for a fact.

  He wondered why he felt so alone.

  Chapter Five

  Berlin, Germany – Two Days Ago

  Ryder stood, his mirrored glasses blocking eye contact with anyone as he stood at the gate.

  Subconsciously, he touched the pockets of his khakis, feeling for his cell phone.

  He pulled out the device casually and looked at the screen but there was no text, no missed call.

  Did I get the instructions wrong?

  It seemed highly unlikely; his name had been on the plane’s manifest as Riverville had said. He had flown from Seattle to Berlin non-stop.

  Yet there was no one there to meet him.

  Fuck, he thought caustically. Some asshole dropped the ball.

  Ryder had never known the Germans to be anything but precise and efficient. Stereotype possibly, but Germany was the last place in the world he would expect to be waiting for a contact.

  He decided to wait in the lounge but as he walked, he was once more overcome with the feeling that someone was watching him.

  Without attracting attention, Ryder glanced about, his sunglasses still firmly on his face as he looked, but nothing stood out to him.

  Am I getting paranoid?

  Ryder admitted he was annoyed at having to wait.

  The last thing he wanted to do was spend time alone with his thoughts.

  He wanted to get his prey, take him down and head off to the next one, wherever it might be.

  His father had been trying to reach him, but Ryder just couldn’t make himself answer. He wasn’t sure how he felt yet, but he did know that he couldn’t say all the right things to put his “parents” consciences at ease right now.

  He had turned the power for his cell off. No real use for that, after all, he thought. It’s not like I have any family or friends anyway.

  Plopping onto a plastic chair, he picked up an abandoned magazine and pretended to read it, his eyes still trained on the gate.

  In all his years of working for the government, he had never encountered a late operative.

  Not even in Athens where time was apparently irrelevant to the Greeks.

  He would give the agent ten minutes and then find a hotel since there had been no other instructions to follow.

  Riverville would eventually touch base wit
h him again and he could explain the situation when that happened.

  In the meantime, there were worse places to be stranded than Berlin.

  Ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of an operative.

  Reluctantly, Ryder rose and ambled toward the exit.

  He stood at the curb, signalling for a taxi.

  Instantly one appeared and he slid inside.

  “Can you recommend a good hotel? Nothing fancy but clean and near downtown, bitte?” Ryder asked in German.

  “Ja. The Stonehouse is comfortable,” the driver replied, eyeing him in the rear-view mirror. Ryder wracked his brain, trying to recall where that hotel would be.

  “It is central?”

  “Ja.”

  “Okay, that is fine,” Ryder replied. “Danke.”

  The cabbie nodded, his dark eyes examining Ryder one last time before pulling away from the curb.

  It was then that Ryder saw the serpent tattoo on his neck.

  His heart racing, he reached for the handle as the car sped away from the airport but the locks secured and Ryder knew he was trapped.

  “Sit back and enjoy the ride, Freund,” the driver sneered. “We are going to the Stonehouse.”

  Suddenly, Ryder’s eyes grew heavy. He tried to grab for the driver, hoping to incapacitate him before he lost consciousness.

  Nitrous oxide filtered through the vents of the car and the man at the wheel stuck an oxygen mask around his own face so he did not inhale the sedative.

  “Gute Nacht, Freund. My boss is very eager to meet with Mr. Quinn.”

  ---

  The voice was in his head, floating mellifluously through his conscious and subconscious simultaneously.

  “Welcome to the Stonehouse, Mr. Quinn. I am so excited to have you here! You are a legend amongst us as I am sure you know.”

  Franz Kaiser.

  Ryder was not sure why he knew who it was as they had never met face to face, but somehow, Ryder was certain that it was Franz who held him captive.

  Why didn’t Riverville warn me it was Franz?

  No one had seen nor heard from the assassin in almost a decade. Had the “Find Kaiser” mission grown too relaxed? More than likely, but Ryder was not involved in that level. He was simply a tracker. He went where he was told in order to smoke out his prey.