Haven (10 page)

Harrison sat on the desk, although he’d respectfully moved Mr. Packard’s cushiony leather desk mat aside before taking a seat. His hand was extended toward the flat screen TV, his thumb repeatedly hitting the channel button on the remote control. He looked at me in the doorway, scrutinizing me from head to toe.

“I’m still human,” I informed him, half joking.

He broke into a slight smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I said, noticing neither of us added ‘good’ to the greeting.

I stopped next to him with my head turning toward the TV as it came into view.

“The president and his cabinet have gone into hiding,” he said in a detached manner, as if he’d expected it to happen. “The stations keep playing his message in a loop. I’m guessing the news crews have gone home to be with their families.”

“I’m surprised the Emergency Broadcast System isn’t on.”

“I don’t think they had time to flip that particular switch.”

There was pragmatism in his tone and expression, a complacent acceptance of our situation. I was left a little more bothered. No more news meant no more information. I didn’t want to be an alarmist, but that could lead to the downfall of our society. Wait, hadn’t that already happened?

“Good evening, Fellow Americans,” the President’s voice came on and both our heads whipped back to the TV.” This is not a time for rhetoric, so you’ll hear no prose from me tonight on my confidence in the future of our nation. While it will prevail, we must keep our mind on the situation we find ourselves in now. This is not a message of happiness or reassurance, but it is the truth. We are in the midst of a crisis unlike anything our nation has ever faced before. Rest assured that every resource, every facility, every piece of equipment, and all personnel, military and civilian, are being utilized. Find a safe place. Hunker down. Lock your doors. Wait for an emergency crew to arrive.” The President’s eyes traveled to someone behind the camera and then back to us. “Good night and God bless.” He was already darting from his chair before the video cut out. “…Good evening, Fellow Americans…” and the loop began again.

I took a seat next to Harrison as he resumed flipping through the channels. “We need to check the perimeter, make sure it’s still secure.”

His thumb paused and he smiled to himself. “That’s right. Your dad was military.”

“Navy SEAL. I don’t want to do it alone, but if you need sleep-”

“No,” he replied adamantly, already sliding off the desk. “No, I’ll go with you.”

That was a relief. I had no interest in doing it myself.

We left the administration offices and entered the hall where I asked, “How did you know about my dad? Being in the military?”

Harrison strolled next to me, his eyes straightforward, not deviating from our route ahead. “He was, though, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“When I first got here, a year ago, you were pretty much all anyone talked about.”

I cringed, noticeably.

In a way that made me think he was reading my thoughts, he added, “I arrived before your dad left.”

I repeated the words in my head. Before he
left
… “Leaving” implied a choice, which my dad never had. But I knew why Harrison explained it in that way. He was trying to be delicate about my dad’s death for my benefit, and I appreciated it.

To clarify, or to bring me back from my reflection, he continued, “You’d just gone out with MacAvoy, and he sat three rows behind me in Calculus.”

I paused to remember what he was referencing and then a chuckle slipped out. “Oh…”

“When he came in with the bruise, a week after school started, he wouldn’t say who gave it to him.” He shrugged. “But the secret was already out. His friend…Jorge?”

“George,” I corrected.

“George made sure everyone knew.” Harrison laughed lightly to himself.

“So how does that explain you knew my dad was in the military?”

“Anyone who could give a guy the size of MacAvoy a bruise like that had been trained, and trained well.”

I had a feeling he was waiting for me to fill him in, to divulge more of my secret, but either he figured I wouldn’t or he didn’t want to pry it from me. He simply kept walking, allowing me the respect of taking disclosure at my own pace. He also didn’t make any teasing, juvenile move like throwing up his hands and saying, “Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me!” like other guys had done when they learned about MacAvoy. No, his compliment was sincere, and slowly, my chin tilted higher as a proud, subtle smile crossed my face.

“MacAvoy deserved it,” I stated.

He laughed under his breath. “Oh, I’m sure he did. That was a solid hit. Whatever he tried on you, it wasn’t something you took casually.”

I felt my eyes narrow, remembering MacAvoy’s hand slipping into my pants with his face pressed against mine, using our contact there as an anchor for more control. His kiss was painful, suffocating, and gave me the impression he felt entitled to what he was doing. I communicated – fairly effectively – that he was wrong when my fingertips sunk into his eye sockets, and he pulled away screaming. His scream was cut short by my left elbow slamming into his right eye. There were other injuries I’d left him with during my escape, but I had thought he hid them well enough to pass as normal to anyone not paying attention.

To my surprise, Harrison disproved my theory by asking, “Did you notice he had a limp the week after?”

I let out a loud laugh, which was confirmation enough for Harrison.

Through a grin, he said, “I thought I saw that…”

“When you thought I was underestimating you yesterday, I wasn’t. I have a fairly good understanding of what you are capable of.”

His remark made me think of the little gift he’d left me when I woke up, and I said, “Thanks for my star, by the way.”

He tipped his head in a respectful nod. “You’re welcome.”

After a few paces, he leaned in to peer into the first classroom while, down the hallway, I noticed the sunlight filtering across the floor, and I knew he’d left the doors open on his rounds during the night. Seeing no imminent threat, he drew his head back out and continued walking.

“Did you date anyone else here?”

He said this nonchalantly while ducking into the next classroom and surveying it from the doorway. With his back to me, he didn’t see the surprise sweep across my face, but I corrected it by the time he turned around. His expression was curious, about my answer as much as why it took me so long to reply. The truth was, I hadn’t expected that kind of interest from him. He’d made it clear that he would be keeping his distance, and we were in the middle of a pandemic event. By this point, it was obvious that neither of us would be going out on a date any time in the near future, so why would he care?

“No, I didn’t like any of them enough,” I stated.

He nodded, slowly considering what I said before coming to a standstill to inspect the next classroom. This stop included a classroom on my side of the hallway, so I peered in. Desks sat vacant and the whiteboard was wiped clean but remnants of faded blue marker denoted an Algebra problem that hadn’t been entirely erased. There wasn’t, however, any Infected inside.

“How about you?” I asked returning to Harrison in the hallway. “Did you date anyone back in Texas?”

“I was homeschooled until I came here,” he replied gruffly.

“So they didn’t have girls in the town where you lived?” I teased.

He gave me a look that said I wasn’t funny, and then grinned.

“There were girls, just…no one I was interested in.”

I imagined they had an interest in him, though.

“I had enough…opportunities,” he continued, proving me correct. “But…”

When he didn’t finish his sentence, my interest made me press further. “But…?”

“The risk was greater than the reward,” he replied flatly.

“The risk was greater…” I mumbled. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he admitted, and I sensed he was hoping that we’d reach another classroom so he could literally duck out of this conversation.

Watching his discomfort reminded me of the nervous tension that had come up yesterday in his aunt’s apartment, and suddenly, I understood. “You were worried you’d hurt them.”

“More than that,” he replied. “I just…I never cared enough about them to let them know who I really am.”

That stung. Wasn’t that what he was doing with me? Keeping me separate from him so I couldn’t get close enough to figure out his secret?

“Not like you,” he added before stopping abruptly. It was immediately clear he hadn’t intended to confess that part.

I was stunned. It was the biggest departure from maintaining his aloofness that he’d made yet.

Clearly uneasy about what he’d accidentally confessed, he leaned into the next classroom door. I stayed quietly in place for a second before answering, evaluating him as he did regularly with me. He was uncomfortable with his disclosure, and yet he hadn’t really told me anything at all. Whatever he was harboring, whatever it was that kept him from making friends or turning them into something more, disturbed him, deeply. And had all his life.

My heart opened for him in that moment. I no longer felt the infatuated romantic interest that had haunted me since the first time I’d seen him and that had developed with each secretive look and passing glance. It was more now, stronger, warmer, more compassionate, because he was correct. We really were incredibly similar. My realization sparked a curiosity about his background that prompted me to ask, “So what’s your mother like?”

“Well,” he said, stepping back from the room and making his way on down the hall, “there was a guy on the ranch, an ancient guy, with skin that looked like leather. He’d been there since he was a kid, which was probably around the Stone Age. So I called him Cro, short for Cro-Magnon man. His real name was Burke, but he owned his nickname, squawking like a crow when something excited him.”

I nodded. “But about your mother…”

“I’m getting to that,” he replied softly in an attempt to discipline me for my impatience. I mentally wished him good luck with that. “Cro raised me, so I asked him once about what she was like, my mom, and he told me this story about her. He said that she wasn’t what you’d call an animal lover. Not that she disliked them, she just never gave them much thought. And then someone gave her a dog.” He chuckled thoughtfully to himself. “A little white fluffy yapper. That dog followed her everywhere, to every room, walking behind her when she walked, stopping when she stopped. When she left the house, he’d wait by the door until she returned. She never paid attention to him, didn’t name the dog, didn’t even seem to notice that he was there. Others in the household, the staff, made friends with the dog, but he just kept following her, like he knew she was the master. And then she got sick, not with…” he paused awkwardly. “Not with what she had when she was pregnant with me, but…sick. She was laid up for several weeks and somehow that dog crawled up on the bed with her and stayed right beside her the entire time. He didn’t move at all. The staff brought him water and food. Don’t ask me how he went to the bathroom.” We laughed quietly. “Eventually, my mom got to liking the weight of him against her leg, the little bark he’d give to warn her someone was coming down the hall, even his snoring.” We laughed again. “And when she got healthier, she took Phillip – because she did name him then – with her everywhere, and I mean everywhere, to the vacation home in the islands, to her weekly bridge games with her friends, on several trips to Europe. She even picked a fight with a restaurant manager for refusing to allow Phillip inside. It didn’t matter that it was a five-star restaurant or that it would violate health codes. She wouldn’t listen and ultimately bought the place so that Phillip could come with her. That,” he snorted, “was my mom.”

A few more paces and I prompted him for an answer to something that had been hanging in my mind since he’d started to talk. “You said ‘was,’ that ‘was’ your mom’.”

He answered plainly, but the sudden stiffness in his walk gave away his emotions. “She died delivering me.”

A few steps of awkward silence followed.

“I’m sorry.”

I contemplated what he’d said and then came to a conclusion. “It sounds like she was like you, Harrison.”

His head tilted back in surprise. “How?” he asked.

“Strong willed…protective of those she cared about.”

“How do you know I protect those I care about?” he challenged.

I didn’t answer him right away, allowing my smile to make an entrance and fade away.

“Oh, right…,” he said, laughing to himself. “That’s another one of those judgments you’ve made about me.”

He shook his head as if it was at my peril to have done it, which I – of course – shrugged off. He could question my beliefs all he wanted. They wouldn’t be changing any time soon.

“What about your dad?” I asked. “What’s he like?”

“Dedicated,” he said quickly, rigidly, keeping his eyes forward. I had the feeling he was trying not to frown.

“To what?”

“Being the best at everything…” He shrugged one shoulder and added as an afterthought, “Except fatherhood.” He drew in a deep breath like he was trying to purge a swarm of uncomfortable feelings and repeated in a mutter, “Everything except fatherhood…”