CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EVELYN WATCHES AS HARRY swiftly steps out of the huge beast's reach. From such a close proximity, Harry seems almost bored. However, if she looks closer, she can see his brow is furrowed in concentration and his body is tense with anticipation. Even though he's alert, he doesn't seem the least bit worried.
"Skinner is undefeated," says Quincy in her ear.
She pulls away. "Skinner? Is that supposed to be a champion's name?"
Quincy narrows his eyes at her. "Perhaps you'll be more accepting of it when you see what he does to your little pet."
She matches his glare. "He's not a pet," she snaps for the second time that morning.
He shrugs and settles back into the couch, throwing his arm around the back across her shoulder. She scoots forward onto the edge of the cushions so he doesn't touch her. He mumbles something under his breath, but Evelyn ignores him.
It's like watching a cat chase a mouse. Skinner dives; Harry spins away. Skinner seems to be growing more and more agitated, another shrieking war cry fleeing his lips. Harry takes a couple of steps backwards, and to most people it probably appears that he's cornering himself out of fear. He ever so slightly tilts his head to the side, measuring the distance between the prickly wire and himself.
Evelyn almost laughs at how brilliant he is--he's going to let Skinner defeat himself.
Skinner charges again with his shoulders and head down, as if he's a football player. Harry calculates the moment precisely, whirling away just when Skinner is a fingertip away. Skinner slams into the fence, the barbed wire immediately drawing blood from the top of his bald head to the base of his neck.
The crowd that had once been cheering falls silent, unable to process that their champion has his head stuck in a fence. The smallest movement from Skinner causes a scream to leave his throat as the wire digs deeper into his skin. He tries to stand utterly still, but he's also trying to free himself.
Evelyn smirks, turning to look at Quincy. "I do believe my pet just won."
Quincy gets to his feet, clenching his fists in anger. He shouts orders to his nearby men to cut Skinner loose. The audience is still quiet, no one daring to whisper a single syllable or release a mere breath.
Harry stands at the side of the fence close to them, appearing troubled. He's frowning at Skinner's back, and Evelyn's believes for the briefest of moments that remorse is clouding his eyes. The emotion is gone as quick as she'd spotted it.
"I knew it!" Robbie yells. "See! People should listen to me more often! Didn't I tell you?" He stares at Evelyn excitedly.
She ruffles his hair. "Settle down, kid."
"Eve..."
Evelyn looks at Robbie, but it's not him who murmured her name. It's Sasha, her eyes practically bulging out of her head as she points to Nive.
Evelyn shoots to her feet. "Hey, we need help over here!"
Nive is slouched on the couch, both hands on her stomach. Evelyn quickly checks for a pulse and is relieved to feel a steady heartbeat. Just when she's about to feel Nive's forehead for a fever, Nive springs up so fast she nearly headbutts her. An ear-piercing shriek erupts from Nive, and she curls in on herself, clutching her stomach. Sweat trickles down her forehead, and red catches Evelyn's eyes, seeping through Nive's jeans.
"She's going into labor," Nick says, suddenly right behind Evelyn.
"W-what do we do?" Evelyn stammers. She'd never been in a situation like this before.
Nick snaps at the blonde guard who rushes to his aid. Both of them lift Nive and begin shuffling into the building. Evelyn goes to follow them, but two pairs of arms are grabbing at her.
"I'm scared," Sasha whimpers.
"Is she okay?" asks Robbie.
Evelyn allows them to clutch on either side of her. "She's okay. Her baby is coming. Isn't that exciting?" she says, trying to lift the children's spirits. She looks over her shoulder at Harry, who is watching them with a concerned expression. "I'll be right back, okay?"
When she detaches the children from her, she marches over to the makeshift arena's door and the two buffoons guarding it. At first they're too busy watching a few other men trying to cut Skinner out of the wire, but when they notice her one snorts. The other looks her up and down and waggles his eyebrows.
"Move," she demands.
"Excuse me?" The one who snorted tilts his head at her.
"Yes, excuse you." Evelyn goes to move around them, but he steps in her path. "Do you need a definition?"
He narrows his eyes, looking down his hooked nose at her. "You can't go in there, and they can't come out until I've been given orders."
"Look, you may be Quincy's dog, but quite frankly I don't care. Now get out of the way."
He takes moves closer to her, trying to stand taller. "You better watch your tone."
Evelyn goes to open her mouth for a snarky reply, but she catches Harry in her peripheral vision. He shakes his head at her, gesturing she leave. She huffs, not wanting to give the arrogant man an ego boost he doesn't need by leaving, but she also doesn't want unnecessary fights. Harry can handle himself, anyways. Why is she feeling so defensive?
She clenches her jaw, spinning on her heel. The guard who eyed her whistles at her and shouts, "Scurry on back to the kitchen, darlin'."
"If you insist," she calls back. "That's where the sharpest knives are kept."
She gets back to Sasha and Robbie, who are waiting anxiously on the sofa. She chews the inside of her cheek, wanting to go check on Nive but also not wanting to children to be in the room during her labor. What's she supposed to do? She's never had younger siblings. She doesn't know how to be the big sister or play the role of a mother. She's never been good with kids at all, yet these two seem comfortable enough around her.
"Robbie, do you think you and Sasha can hang out with the other kids again?" she asks, kneeling to their level.
He frowns. "I don't know. There was a kid named Gilly who kept being mean to Poppy."
"Yeah? Well, next time tell this Gilly kid that you don't understand ignorance. Or, just stare at him until he gets really uncomfortable and leaves you alone. I've gotta go check on Nive, but you two probably shouldn't be in there. I won't be long," she says, standing and waiting for the two to follow suit.
Sasha grabs Evelyn's shirt. "I don't want to be by myself."
"You won't be," Evelyn assures her. "Robbie will look after you, won't you, kid?"
Robbie straightens, giving Sasha a playful salute that makes her smile.
"Can you two find the way?"
Robbie grabs her hand. "Can you walk us?"
Evelyn purses her lips, but she can't say no to his wide eyes and toothy grin. She holds Robbie's hand, who holds Poppy in the other hand, and Sasha takes Evelyn's other hand in her small one. Evelyn doesn't know when she became a nanny, and she's pretty sure she'll screw up some way or another, but it feels sort of empowering. They say children are the best judges of character, and to know these two seem to trust Evelyn makes her feel a warmth in the pit of her stomach she hasn't felt in a long while.
She glances back at Harry just as the guards roughly drag him out of the ring. Quincy storms over to him with an angry expression, but she doesn't wait to hear the conversation.
Harry can take care of himself.
She doesn't know why she feels the incessant need to remind herself of that. He's proved it plenty of times in the short span of days she's known him.
A blonde boy greets Robbie at the door to the supposed "kid room." There's a girl sitting on the far bed with a notebook, scribbling thoughts away. Sasha doesn't want to let go of Evelyn. A pained scream bursts through their ears from down the hall, coming from the direction the clinic is in.
"Do you like stories?" the girl with the notebook asks, peeking up at Sasha.
Sasha timidly nods, still clutching Evelyn tightly around the waist.
The girl sits up, making room as she pats the spot beside her. "I'm Maxie," she says. "I've got lots of stories, if you want to hear one."
"What kind of stories?" Sasha questions quietly.
Maxie smiles. "All kinds. What's your favorite?"
"I like funny stories... but not the mean kind of funny."
"I've got plenty of those. Want to pick one?"
Reluctantly and very slowly, Sasha unwinds her small arms from around Evelyn. She takes cautious steps forward, then hesitantly sits on the side of the bed next to the girl a few years younger than Evelyn. Evelyn gives her a thin-lipped smile of gratitude to which the girl responds with a tip of her head.
Evelyn jogs down the hall to find a couple of middle-aged women already lingering outside the door. She slips through them, opening the door and shutting it behind her so they can't invade Nive's privacy. She hopes Nive doesn't think she's invading her privacy... She really wishes this whole "caring" thing hadn't revved up. Her thoughts made more sense when she was only thinking about herself.
One of the nurses, Tracy, she thinks, rushes to her. "I'm not sure you want to be in here."
"I just want to make sure she's okay," retorts Evelyn.
"She'll make it, but the baby is almost two months early. With our lack of medical supplies, it'll be a miracle if... you know..." A forlorn looks falls over Tracy's face. She puts a hand on Evelyn's shoulder, and Evelyn has to resist the urge to shrug it off. "Maybe she could use some moral support."
Evelyn's eyes widen. "Oh, um, no. I didn't--I wasn't... I was only checking on her."
Nive screams again and the other nurse shouts for Tracy.
Tracy looks at Evelyn pleadingly. "Please. If you could only stay to help her through it. It's not pleasant, but trust me when I say it'll mean a lot to her."
Evelyn warily glances over the other nurse's shoulder, her chest constricting. "W-what if she doesn't even want me here? I don't even know her and--"
A gunshot from outside makes the decision for her.
Suddenly in survival mode, Evelyn gives Tracy a hard stare. "Don't let anyone harm her or the baby, got it?"
Tracy, startled from the eruption, frantically nods and scurries over to assist the other nurse.
Evelyn goes to the window, but the chaos is happening too far off to the side for her to see anything. She can spot a few of Quincy's men scrambling for their bearings, aiming their weapons, but she can't pinpoint what the threat is. She wonders if Harry broke away, that surely would've caused such a reaction, however, the gunmen are aiming in the opposite direction of where they took him.
She hurries out the door, sprinting down the hall. Robbie pokes his head out of the kid's room, but she shouts at him to close the door and lock it, demanding he stay put until she herself comes for him. He doesn't hesitate to obey, slamming the door just as the words flee her lips. She may not have asked to be a nanny, but at least he listens, she'll give him that.
More of Quincy's men (and some very rugged looking women) are running out the exit just as she approaches it. She barges through them while they fight over who should go out first and who should command orders. She supposes simply sprinting out to help in a fight makes too much sense.
One of the sterner looking women thumps her on the back of the head. "Hey, stop your pushing! We're all going to the same place."
"Maybe, but apparently we're on different schedules," Evelyn snaps back. "Touch me again and I'll chop off your fingers."
The woman raises her eyebrows, almost like she's accepting the challenge. She's a good ten years older than Evelyn, probably more, but if she expects Evelyn to be intimidated, she's relying too much of wishful thinking. Evelyn has faced too many horrid creatures to be afraid of a middle-aged woman with her panties in a twist. And the woman must notice because she glowers at the younger girl before backing off.
Evelyn smirks triumphantly.
Sometimes having nothing to lose is an advantage.
***
Harry hears the experiments before they even ambush the place. He's on his knees after Quincy forced him down, hanging his head. Not out of shame, but simply because the sun is in his eyes. That, and the ground is a far prettier sight than an upset, arrogant leader. It isn't Harry's fault his "champion" is about as smart as the pavement he's staring at.
To most, it would seem the experiments are coming to Harry's rescue. Unfortunately, he's not so convinced. He didn't exactly leave the others with a peaceful goodbye, and he's sure plenty of them are great at holding grudges.
Micah, especially.
If Blaze had told Micah where he'd seen Harry, certainly they've tracked him down and...
"Are you listening to me?" Quincy hisses, gripping Harry's chin and yanking his face upwards.
Not really, no.
Harry bats his lashes innocently.
Quincy growls, tossing Harry's face to the side. Harry secretly hopes the experiments give him enough time to at least finish this one person off. And if he is to see that idiotic guard Locke again before his departure, it surely wouldn't be any trouble for a quick snap of the neck.
Harry could've warned Quincy about the experiments that were inches away from breaching his camp's pathetic gate. He could've told all of his men to be at their ready, to keep their eyes wide and alert. He doesn't, of course. Why should he? The urge to break his silence is definitely there, but he won't waste his first words in over a year to rescue these creeps. He'll protect his own little group (with hopes of Nive being okay), and get out before all hell breaks loose.
Which it will. It always does with Micah.
And Harry is proven correct that it is in fact Micah behind this charge when his face is the first one he sees. His features are strained in determination, his strides long and brisk with his hands clenched at his sides. He looks the same as he always had with close-cropped hair and pronounced cheekbones, red eyes darker than any other experiment from his intense passion. Passion for what, other than revenge, Harry cannot say.
When the first man of Quincy's goes down, he's instantly shouting orders as his people erupt into pandemonium. There's at least twenty experiments backing Micah up, and though Quincy's gang terribly outnumbers him, there's no stopping a determined man. Especially a determined man with inhuman advantages.
Harry takes their surprise as a chance to free himself, elbowing the guard at his right in the thigh, then quickly standing and sweeping his feet out from under him. The other guard doesn't have time to draw his weapon. Harry lands a solid punch to his jaw as soon as he whips around, knocking him out cold. He shakes out his hand, though he hadn't even felt the impact, and rubs the area around his wrist where ropes had been the previous day.
The battle for Quincy is over as soon as it begins. Majority of his men lay sprawled unconscious on the ground, either dead or simply playing it so the experiments pass them by. The ones who are still fighting don't look like they'll be lasting much longer.
"Quincy, old friend," Micah exclaims in exaggerated glee, spreading his arms wide. "I've quite missed your company."
"I'm not afraid to put a bullet between your demonic eyes," Quincy spits back, holding the revolver in his shaking hands.
"Oh, I don't doubt it. However, I'm afraid you won't get the pleasure of such extremities today. I've no time for child's play." Micah flicks his hand and an experiment tackles Quincy from behind before he can brace himself. The gun flies out of his hand, sliding in front of Micah's feet, but Micah merely steps over it. He's much more lethal than a gun could ever be.
Harry plans on slipping away before he's seen, but he had little hope for the plan working, and it didn't. Micah sees him almost instantly, a wide grin full of malice stretching on his lips. Harry holds his stare, however, there's anything but a smile on his face. A frown would be an understatement. He practically grimaces at the sight of Micah.
"Just the man I wanted to see," Micah mutters, any dramatized friendliness completely gone from his voice.
Harry hears the experiments approaching him from behind, but fighting against them would be useless. He's in no mood for an endless brawl with his old friend, which is exactly what would happen if he were to show any resistance. He might as well get this petty meeting over with and see what exactly it is Micah wants from him. His mind thinks up a string of unpleasant ideas that make him cringe.
The two experiments shove him back down to his knees unnecessarily roughly, snarling in either of his ears. Harry sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth when one of them winds barbed wire around his wrists behind his back. The spikes pierce his skin instantly, warm blood trickling down his hands to puddle between his ankles. Harry growls, but other than that makes no abrupt move of defense.
"Gone mute, eh? You never did have a liking for words." Micah squats in front of him, tilting his head as if speaking to a child. Before he can make any taunts, the sounds of running footsteps echoes through both their impeccable ears. "Ah, someone is joining the party a bit late, aren't they? No matter. I prefer an audience."
Rounding the corner, a very flustered yet highly alert Eve comes to a sudden halt, her lips parting in shock. Harry visibly winces at the fact that it's her who decided to play hero. Why can't she ever stay out of a fight that doesn't concern her?
Micah clicks his tongue, his lips curling upwards as he gives her a once over. "To what do I owe the pleasure of such a lovely young lady's arrival?"
Eve jerks her attention from Harry to Micah, her body stiff. For once, she's fumbling for words. She glances back to Harry, as if he has all the answers for her, but he avoids her eyes and starts rapidly configuring an escape plan. He carefully turns his wrists, but stops immediately when intense pain slices up both his arms.
"Has everyone gone mute?" Micah throws his hands up, whether jokingly or genuinely annoyed is unclear. "This certainly isn't nearly as much fun as I'd hoped. Perhaps we should start with introductions." Micah mockingly swoops into a bow in front of Eve. "My name's Micah, and what might I call the beautiful maiden?"
Eve narrows her eyes at him. "I'm afraid I'm not interested in saying."
He raises his eyebrows at her, amused. "So she can speak. With sharp words at that. Thank you for spicing this up a bit." He leans towards her. "Perhaps a moment in private will earn me your name."
Harry is tired of Micah's games, and he's tired of kneeling here listening to this conversation. In fact, he realizes he's been silent for far too long, and what better way to break the habit than to toy with the enemy? He deserves to have some of his own fun, doesn't he? Micah has been pushing him into corners for as long as he can remember, but not anymore.
Harry does what he hasn't done in over a year.
He speaks.