The Hunter

by Melissa Faye

“Hold up!” I cried as Harrison and I emerged from the subway tunnel. I took out Ridge’s Map again and checked for Rami. Maybe Harrison was right. Maybe the cops got to him already, and he was in a hospital. I flipped on the device and looked for Rami’s location pin.

  Nothing.

  “What does that mean?” Harrison asked.

  I didn’t answer. It meant Rami was dead.

  Chapter 6

  I WAS RELIEVED THE cops beat us there. And relieved they didn’t have a stand off with the traveler. But Rami was murdered, and although I never met him, he was my classmate. I had his toothbrush. I felt sick. Harrison had a queasy pallor as well. We agreed to go see Ridge next, rather than going back to campus. Everyone at campus would find out soon enough, and I didn’t want to be there when they did.

  I barged into the apartment, earning a glare for taking a step before remembering to take off my shoes.

  “We went there, but it was already blocked off.” I needed to catch Ridge up quickly before he could lecture me about having gone down to the crime scene without telling him. “There were a half dozen cop cars, and much more security than the last crime scene.”

  “Every entrance was closed,” Harrison added. “We couldn’t get within five hundred feet of the building. There was an ambulance just leaving as we got there.”

  “Then what are you two doing here?”

  “Ridge! We like seeing you.” Harrison was kind of a suck up.

  “We’re doing criminal profiling, and we thought you’d want to be part of it, Ridge.” I dumped my bag on the floor by Ridge’s coffee table and took out my tablet. “You love watching criminal procedurals on TV. I thought you might even be good at it. Do you have scratch paper?”

  Harrison sat with me on the floor and we made a list of the four victims. The older man was a clear outlier, so we pushed him aside. Ridge looked on approvingly.

  “They’re all men between the ages of 18 and 22. They’re all over six feet tall. They all weigh between 165 and 190 pounds.” Ridge read off the papers. “The traveler has a type.”

  “They all lived in Manhattan. None of the other boroughs. And they were taken the same way. They were pulled from their normal lives and found dead someplace else.” I flipped through police reports on my tablet. “No eyewitnesses. No evidence at the scenes besides the victim and the one piece of traveler technology that the cops couldn’t identify.”

  “And they all look kind of similar.” Harrison pulled up pictures of the three victims. “They’re around the same heights, weights, and ages, but their body types are also similar. Tall and lean. Muscular.”

  So far, Harrison met the victim profile perfectly. But I wasn’t about to bring that up.

  “They might have similar body fat percentages,” Ridge said as he squinted at the photos. “Do they play sports?”

  “Let me see...” Harrison looked around the mess of paper on the coffee table. “Rami played on the soccer team. The first victim...yes, his obituary mentioned him running track. And the second victim...no idea.”

  “Hold on.” I pulled up the second victim’s social media profiles. “Yeah, look at this. He has pictures of himself playing ultimate frisbee and running several marathons.”

  Harrison played soccer in high school. And he runs all the time.

  “Ok, Ridge,” I said. “What would a detective do next?”

  “You said we were profiling the traveler. What do the similarities between the victims tell you about their killer?”

  I looked over the victims’ shared traits.

  “He’s interested in health. And youth. The bio-nanobots mess around with hormones in the pituitary gland. And the victims all turned up looking like they aged seventy years overnight.” I shuddered involuntarily.

  “Maybe it’s a succubus.” Harrison chuckled to himself. “She’s sucking youth out of her victims.”

  I had been assuming the traveler was a man, though now that Harrison said it, I realized there was no reason to think that. The murderer was, kind of, sucking youth from the victims.

  “Why would a traveler want to take someone’s youth?” Ridge asked. He settled back on his couch and sipped a mug of hot cocoa. He had made some without offering any to us; he was still annoyed about the professor and Honey.

  “Maybe she’s getting older. This could increase her life expectancy.” Harrison shrugged. “And if she does it in our Present with her technology, she can avoid getting caught.”

  “It could be a man...” I crossed my arms. “And why would someone murder people for vanity’s sake?” I felt disgusted talking about it. “I’ve met plenty of travelers who want money or power, but not travelers who kill so they can...look younger.”

  “You don’t know, June.” Ridge waved his mug in front of us. “Maybe she – or he - is vain, but maybe it’s something else. Maybe she’s from a time where there’s more pressure to look a certain way.”

  “It could still be a man,” I mumbled. “Not all women are obsessed with looks.”

  I took all the papers and tapped them into a single neat pile.

  “Now we figure out who the traveler is after next.” I grabbed the tablet again. “I’m gonna make a list of everyone at school who fits the profile of the three younger victims.”

  “How will that help? Are you going to provide them with security guards?” Harrison asked.

  “Not ‘them,’ Harrison. ‘Us.’” Ridge raised his eyebrows towards Harrison.

  “What are you -” Harrison looked at the top sheet of paper again. “Oh. Me.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything, Harrison,” I jumped in quickly. Harrison’s face dropped, and I glared at Ridge. “There are thousands of people in the city who fit this description. Tens of thousands.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  I pursed my lips. I could get into the school’s student database, and I would need to write a program to merge data from this database with the students’ health services records. Then I could cross-reference students’ social media profiles and search for key terms about soccer or running.

  “It’s not perfect.” I tried not to look away from Harrison’s ashen face. “But if I can find all the students at our school who match this description, maybe we can test them for the tracker injection. And if we find the tracker injection, we can protect them from being abducted.”

  Harrison was quiet as I wrote and ran the program, and I noticed Ridge place a reassuring hand on Harrison’s knee for a second before pulling it away.

  There were almost two hundred students who matched the profile.

  “Great!” I tried to act pleased, despite the lines of worry across Harrison’s forehead. “Now I need to test all these people to see if they were injected with the tracker.”

  “How exactly will you do that, June?” Ridge asked, but he knew the answer already.

  “Professor Garvey will help.”

  I MET WITH PROFESSOR Garvey the next day to review our data. I dragged Harrison along. He assured me he wasn’t scared, but his tone betrayed him.

  “I have a list of students who may potentially...come in contact with the tracking injection we talked about last time.” I held the list awkwardly in my hands. Ridge must have gotten into my head; I was suddenly nervous again about trusting new people.

  “How did you get that list?”

  “Thought experiment?”

  Professor Garvey covered her eyes with her hand.

  “Alright, June. A thought experiment. What do you want to do with that list?”

  “We’re hoping you could help us create a way to test someone to see if they already have the bio-nanobots in their system.” Harrison’s toes tapped up and down on the floor next to my feet. I put my hand on his knee, hoping it was more reassuring than Ridge’s attempt.

  “Yeah, then we could create an antidote. Hypothetically.” I grinned sheepishly.

  “Do you have the formula still?”

  I handed it over.

  “It
won’t be hard to test for this. I have some research assistants who can work with me on it. Give me a few days, and we’ll come up with a test.”

  “Well -”

  “There was something else you wanted, June?” Professor Garvey’s mouth quivered. I suspected she was enjoying herself.

  “I can’t have other people learn what we’re working on. For a few different reasons. Could your research assistants help without knowing what this is exactly?”

  “Of course, June.”

  Professor Garvey got back to us only a day later with a chemical to test whether a student had been injected with the tracker or not.

  “Mix this chemical with a student’s genetic materials - a fingernail, a strand of hair, a drop of blood - and it will turn black if the tracker is present.”

  I looked at the vial of clear liquid.

  “That’s it? See if this turns black?”

  The professor nodded.

  “Could we ask you for more when we need it? There are a lot of students to test.”

  “A few drops per sample will do the trick, Miss Moore.” Professor Garvey folded her arms. “You can make that last.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you!”

  Harrison pulled me away by my elbow while I kept staring at the vial. This could be the exact lead we needed to protect people from our rogue traveler.

  “We need to get Honey’s help.” I stopped in my tracks and got out my phone. “She can borrow some equipment from her biology lab.”

  “Are you sure?” Harrison looked worried. “Ridge wouldn’t - “

  “Ridge doesn’t do a lot of things. Besides, don’t you want us to figure this out fast? What if you had the tracker in you, and the traveler was biding her time until she could steal your youth and leave you for death and -”

  I stopped short. Too far, June.

  Harrison didn’t speak. He held his hands in the air.

  “Good point, June. I hadn’t even been thinking about that. I wonder what it would be like to be on that list.”

  “I’m sorry, Harrison!”

  Too late. Harrison walked away, leaving me alone with a vial of weird liquid and a heavy heart in the engineering building.

  Chapter 7

  Honey was delighted to hear the plan, and gathered up all the supplies we needed within the day. I showed her the list of potential victims.

  “I assume you don’t want to convince these guys to let you draw blood.” She smirked.

  “Good call, Honey. No, we won’t use blood. Or fingernails.” I blanched. “Hair will work.”

  We split up the list. We started with twenty people each, and over the next few days, we manipulated our way into the lives of forty students long enough to get a sample of their hair from their hairbrushes, pillows, shower caddies, or in Honey’s case, from their heads. She swore she flirted with one guy long enough to play with his hair and pluck out a strand discretely.

  Harrison and I still weren’t talking. Honey wanted to talk about it, but I did not. The whole case was need-to-know. Plus, I knew Harrison wouldn’t want anyone knowing he was nervous about having his name on the list.

  We set up a space to test on a large table in the common room. One by one, we mixed a drop from Professor Garvey’s tester vial with the hair from a potential victim. We breathed a sigh of relief each time the sample came back clear.

  Until one turned black.

  It was Teddy Winters, a sophomore who lived two floors up from me in my dorm. I pulled his sample from his hairbrush. Honey and I looked at each other, wide-eyed. I didn’t know what to say.

  “We should double check,” Honey said. I bit my nail but nodded.

  I hurried up two flights to Teddy’s floor. His hairbrush was still in the bathroom in his caddy.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I turned. It was Teddy.

  I only knew him from his pictures online and from seeing him once or twice in the dining hall. He was built like Harrison - tall and lean. His hair was less messy and much lighter than Harrison’s. His eyes were wrinkled at the corners from the smile he usually wore. I felt my heart race. A traveler is coming after him. We have to keep him safe.

  “Is this not the girl’s room?” I looked around wildly, but left my hand sitting on the shelf next to his brush.

  “You’re a strange girl,” Teddy said with half a smile. “You should get out of here.”

  I smiled back and nodded. Teddy brushed past me as he walked out. I breathed out quickly, grabbed hair from his brush, and snuck out behind him.

  I ran back to Honey, and we reran the test. The liquid turned black.

  We had our first future-victim. Now we just needed to figure out how to save him.

  Harrison had deep bags under his eyes when I found him in his dorm room later.

  “Teddy?” He scratched the hair at the nape of his neck. “Are you sure? Is the test even accurate?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Harrison wouldn’t look at me. His roommate, Anton, came in, and gave me his usual sneer. Harrison complained about me to Anton one time a few months ago, and Anton had seized the opportunity as an excuse to despise me forever. At least I was getting used to it.

  “Are you staying here for a while, June?”

  I hesitated and looked at Harrison for a response.

  “We’re gonna head out,” he told Anton. We stepped into the hallway.

  “What are we going to do about Teddy?” Harrison asked as we stood closely against the wall. “We can’t leave him alone.”

  “I know. Honey and I were going to take shifts.”

  Harrison scratched his head again.

  “Ok. Yeah. I can help with that. I don’t see how Honey’s gonna stop a traveler.”

  I shrugged.

  “Who knows? It’s the only plan we have for now.”

  We worked out a schedule with Honey where one of us was always near Teddy except when he was sleeping. It was a boring routine. Teddy started eyeing me funny when I was around; he knew he had at least one stalker.

  Meanwhile, Professor Garvey’s research assistants created what they hoped was an antidote for the tracker injection. The professor assured us it could be taken orally. That meant we could slip it into Teddy’s drink without worrying him. After only a few days, we could finally stop tracking him ourselves.

  Honey did the honors. We caught Teddy the weekend before Thanksgiving break before he headed out of town. Honey found him in the dining hall and gave me a nod halfway through lunch. She did it. Teddy downed a glass of soda, and just like that, I felt like I could breathe again. We wouldn’t be able to watch Teddy over break; he lived in Ohio. Now he’d be safe at home and off the traveler’s strange cocktail.

  Harrison and I decided to stay at my grandparents’ house Wednesday to Friday of Thanksgiving, and my grandmother, Ma, was very happy to host. Ridge would join us on Thursday and volunteered to help her cook. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not allowed in the kitchen. I was a terrible cook.

  Harrison charmed my grandparents immediately. They both wanted his attention at all times. They asked about school, his classes, his family, and his career goals. I had to pry him out of their hands Wednesday evening after they hounded him throughout dinner about playing varsity soccer in high school. We walked around my neighborhood. It was chilly, and the air smelled like autumn. We were supposed to get snow the following week, so this could be the last nice day for walking we would have for a while.

  “They’re great,” Harrison said, swinging my hand around while we walked. “Ma and Pops. They’re funny. They’re weird, like you.”

  “How am I weird?”

  “You’re...quirky. You get lost in your thoughts. You get hyper-focused on one thing and want to know all about it. Like how Pops was asking all those questions about my physics classes.” He looked at my face. I was turning red.

  “Wires! Don’t get me wrong. Pops is great. You’re great. It’s unique is all.”

  I
hadn’t told Harrison about my grandfather’s health problems. Ma told me only a few months earlier that he was having memory issues. It was dementia, or Alzheimer’s maybe. Pops had a lot of questions about physics, but I couldn’t tell if he was really interested or losing track of the conversation. That’s how it was, now when I spoke with him. I tried to piece together all the evidence. Ma scolded me about it, but I couldn’t stop. He was Pops. I couldn’t bear to think how he’d act in another year or two, and I needed more data to analyze.

  “Do you know what your mom’s doing for Thanksgiving?”

  Harrison had told me he spoke with her once or twice a year, and I wasn’t sure whether it was alright for me to ask him about it. I studied him for any cues.

  “It’s fine, Wires. You can ask me.” He winked. “No, I don’t know what she’s doing. She’s around. She’s kind of a drifter. We never did the whole Thanksgiving thing when I was growing up. She probably isn’t doing it this year either.”

  I considered this. Harrison squeezed my hand tightly, and I smiled back, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. I lost my parents nine years ago, but I was raised by Ma and Pops. Harrison never had a good relationship with his parents. It amazed me that he seemed so...well adjusted.

  “What are you thinking about, June? Are you thinking about your parents?”

  I pulled Harrison to a curb so we could sit for a few minutes.

  “Kind of.”

  “Kind of what?”

  “You and Ridge seem shocked that I’m not doing anything more to find them. But it’s strange, isn’t it? They’re alive in the future. I’m so lucky that I have a chance of seeing them again. They were really good parents. And with you talking about your parents...”

  “It’s different. I’ve made peace with who my mother is. She’s doing her best, but her best isn’t very good. She’s not cut out for being a mom.” Harrison put his arm around me, and I curled into his chest.

  “I don’t want you or Ridge to ever think I’ve forgotten my parents, or that I’m not so happy they’re alive. But the future is static. I can find them now, when I’m desperate to see them but have no idea what I’m doing, or I can wait to learn more. Either way, it’s the same for them. I could snap them out of Jasper’s hands right after he steals them away, couldn’t I?”