Chapter 7
Harry hears talking nearby. The flashlight is still active and undoubtedly, they will see and come to investigate. Harry cannot be here when they do. "Terrence! Come!"
Terrence immediately springs up and joins Harry's side. The house is big; Harry doesn't know if patrols go around the house or not. He's forced to run for the open back door and closes it behind them quietly. Then, he sneaks through the room, peeking into the hallway. This is one he recognizes; it's the hall that leads to the basement. Has the Matron had enough time to get more men to torture? Should he go check, just in case? He dithers but ultimately decides that he cannot leave anyone down there. Who knows when someone will think to check.
"Stay close, Terrence," Harry whispers, his shoes silent against the floor. He doesn't hear anyone over the click of Terrence's claws and wonders if the Matron would send people away to avoid showing weakness. He hopes so, he does not want to run into anyone right now. It’s up in the air if he can subdue them or not. The door comes up, the lock in place. Harry’s raises his hand to unlock it but it snaps open before he can make contact. Brushing it off, he takes the stairs down carefully but he knows there wouldn't be a guard down there. What she does to those men is seriously inhumane and it's highly unlikely every female here is a bleedin' psychopath.
He's right; no one's at the bottom.
Harry doesn't bother sneaking into the room at this point. Terrence's presence helps with the overwhelming agony pressing down on Harry's psyche. He finds the switch immediately but flicking it yields nothing. Shrugging, he thankfully finds very few men. The first one is stocky, the leg sitting at a weird angle and looking a bit funny, the second short, the third is emaciated beyond anything Harry has ever seen and the fourth is more on the lanky side. Three of them have their Will to Live flickering but the third has none at all. Aware of how little time he must have, Harry call outs, "Hey! Wake up!"
They startle and sit up, blinking blindly. The fourth is quick to ask, "Who's there?"
"I'm here to help," Harry replies. The third man just... breaks down, sobbing into his hands. With his physical state, Harry wonders just how long he's been here. Matron only had five men… right? She didn't… hide any, did she?
"Oh my God!" The short one says, crawling to the bars and reaching out for him. "Where are you?"
“I’m coming, calm down,” Harry snipes, making his way across the room. “Was she just here?”
"Y-yeah," the stocky man starts crying. "Oh God. It was so bad."
Bloody shite. These poor buggers. Harry hadn’t meant for them to be subjected to her anger at his death. To be fair, he hadn’t even known they were down here at the time. Or that she’d react like that, at all.
"She's dead," Harry announces as he reaches the first cage. Barely a hand lift and it’s clicking open. His next words are drowned out by their excited gasps. “Stay put for a mo’, alright?”
"What?"
"You can't see shite, so keep your arse there until I open the others!" Harry repeats impatiently.
"Oh. Okay,” he replies, hand hovering over his weird leg. Harry frowns and focuses- broken, two days ago. Harry ignores it for now and moves on to unlock the second cage. He says to the man inside, “Don’t move okay?” And then asks all of them, “Does she have anyone else down here?”
“No, just us, I think,” the short man murmurs uncertainly.
The sobbing man shakes his head as Harry moves in front of his cage, "N-no. No one."
"Are you sure," Harry asks, unlocking the door silently. "Because she cleared out a bunch of guys not too long ago and this place was empty. Is she hiding anyone?"
“What? What does that mean?”
"What do you mean?" The third man asks in a horrified shock, sobs ceasing entirely. "How do you know that?"
Harry moves on to the next cage, "I was there, okay?"
"Oh my God," he says, sounding blown away. His hands drop to his lap. "She was so happy when she brought me back out. I didn't know where they went. What happened to them?"
Harry unlocks the last cage, "She made me kill one and she killed the rest."
“That’s so fucked,” another whispers.
The third man just breaks down anew.
"Hey!" Harry snaps. "Leave it out! You can break down later! Did she hide anyone?"
"No!" He suddenly snarls angrily. "She only hides me because of what she thinks I did to her son!"
Harry shakes his head and steps inside the cage, "Whatever. Hey, I know you’re hurt. Can you get up?"
"It was consensual!" He cries out.
"I think so…" the man replies under the other's protests. "Thank you!"
Harry reaches down and lightly taps the man's shoulder. He flinches harshly but reaches up blindly. Harry carefully grasps his arm, "Ready?"
At the man's frantic nod, Harry hauls him to his feet. The guy stinks to high heavens though thankfully mostly body odour. Harry breathes carefully until the man steadies himself, then moves back to draw him out. "Thank you, thank you!" The lanky man starts crying as he walks out blindly.
Harry pulls him along, ignoring his gratitude with practice. Then he stops in front of the potential rapist's cage and whispers to the lanky man, "Stay here, okay?"
He flounders as Harry lets go but obedience is a hard lesson to learn. He doesn't protest, pulling his shaking arms into his equally shaking chest. Harry steps into the cage, "Can you stand?"
Terrence growls at the man and Harry has an inkling he has a good reason for it. The others huff in a shaky gasp at the sudden, aggressive sound.
"No!" He reaches out blindly. "Help me! That dog is here! He never liked me!"
"Dogs are excellent judges of character, actually," Harry snips. "I'm fairly sure you deserve this treatment because someone doesn't kill themselves for nothing."
The man breaks down again, covering his suddenly sobbing face, "She killed him!"
Harry trusts his instincts. Matron may have been a terrible Mother but it's painfully clear she loved her son dearly. There wasn't enough guilt for her to have killed her son. Trent must have left a note for her. Harry refuses to feel sorry for her or for this man but he does for Trent. No one deserves that.
"Right," Harry says instead, retreating from the cage. "Sure. Get your arse up and out on your own because I won't help you."
Harry taps the man waiting patiently. It’s surprising how quiet they all are, even with the promise of freedom on the horizon. Harry doesn’t know if he would have been as restrained as these men are. The man startles and flails but finds Harry’s hand in the dark, the teen drawing him over to the next cage. Terrence stands nearby, panting and utterly watchful but out of reach of anyone.
"W-wait!" The man pleads, reaching out fruitlessly. "I can't stand! I'm too weak! Please!" Terrence growls again, his lips rising as he stares the potential rapist down in the dark.
"Better give it a good bloody try, mate," Harry replies, patting Lanky’s arm in warning and steps away into the second cage. "I'm not helping you." He makes his voice softer. "Hey, can you stand?"
The man nods shakily, reaching up, "I’m fine! Thank you!"
Harry pulls the man to his feet. He sways on his feet but at least stays on them. Harry pulls him out of the cage and lets the two men feel each other in the dark as he leads them over to the first.
"Why are you helping them and not me? What did I do to you?" The man sobs into his hands. Harry is starting to feel like the sobbing is fake or just... too much. But what does he know?
"I watched her cry over her son's grave," Harry replies as he steps into the first cage. "She was sincere when she said he killed himself over what you did to him. No one was around to hear, why the bloody hell would she lie?"
The man finally goes quiet, "I loved him. I just wanted him to love me back."
"That's not how you do things," Harry replies firmly. He taps the man on the shoulder, gaining a flinch even though the man knew he was close. Harry crouches down and murmurs a bare whisper, "Don’t say anything, I’m going to heal your leg. Breath a word about this and I'll kill you." Harry hovers his hand over the man's leg with no further warning, watching it subtly straighten with a minute pop and crunch. Stocky lets out a huff of intense pain, somehow staying quiet even with the bare warning. It almost immediately eases into wonder and the man feels his leg in shock.
“Can you walk?” Harry asks in a normal tone.
"I-" The man catches himself and says louder, "I can walk."
"Didn't she break your leg?" Lanky asks dubiously, almost accusingly.
"No! She certainly didn't!" Stocky snaps gruffly, glancing around the pitch with a frightened look on his face. He gets to his own feet and blindly reaches out for Harry, "I'm more than ready to get the fuck out of here."
"Good, let’s go," Harry says, catching the flailing hand and leading him to the others.
"Wait! Wait! Please, wait! Don't leave me here!" The third man scrabbles to the edge of the cage and uses the bars to get to his feet.
"Get out of the cage and I'll come back for you," Harry sighs, pulling Stocky, who was holding onto Shorty, who had Lanky in hand, creating a human chain that he leads to the stairs. Harry really needs to ask their names... or not. Does he care to know these guys? His sense of morals is what led him down here, he didn’t actually expect to find anything. Does that mean he wants to get to know them?
Does it even matter?
"Please! Please don't leave me here!"
"How can you see anything?" The second asks in wonder.
"I'm the bleedin' tooth fairy, mate," Harry quips sarcastically and stops a foot from the stairs. "The stairs are straight ahead. I don't think there's any guards up there but be careful anyway. Go and if you want to leave on your own, be my guest."
"Thank you!"
"Oh my god, finally!"
"Thank you so much!"
Harry ignores their gratitude as they stumble over the first step and begin crawling up. The third man is taking wobbly steps out of the cage when Harry turns back to him. Harry eyes his form; there is way too much damage to his body to survive outside the walls. Harry wonders if the Matron being dead will ease the rules of this place or not. Unlikely, considering the women are in real power. There is nothing he can do about the operation, though. Completely outnumbered and outgendered and very likely, outweighed, he wouldn’t last ten seconds.
Regardless, he doesn't feel sorry enough for the man to heal him. He raped a guy and then tried to shove the blame off on someone else when said guy kills himself. You don't do that to the people you claim to love. He will find a way to survive, or he won't. Once Harry gets him to the stairs, he's on his own.
"Hey, I'm here. Come on," Harry says, reaching out to grab the man. He latches on to Harry's arm and crowds in, eager to leave. Harry tries to pull away to gain some distance but the man tightens his hold, sniffing the air. Terrence growls again, deeper and more menacing.
"You smell like Trent," the man says dreamily, somehow managing to pull Harry closer. Harry very narrowly keeps from throwing up from the smell. "Oh, how I miss him."
"Eugh! Let go!" Harry snaps out, gripping the wrist tightly and trying to get him off. Terrence growls even more aggressively.
"Please," the man says, sounding completely off kilter, pulling Harry closer with strength that belies his emaciated state. It's fuelled by desperation and yearning. Harry grunts as he leans back, trying to keep some distance. "Please, I loved him. Just one kiss. Just-"
Terrence bounds forward, barking up an angry storm. The man yelps, letting go to cower. Harry retreats a distance, panting from the scare, "Yeah, I'm done." He states flatly, the last shrivel of sympathy for the man turning to dust. Terrence presses up against his side and Harry buries his fingers into the fur.
The man reaches out, "Wait! Trent! Please, come back to me!"
Harry shakes his head, turning away. "You're on your own, mate."
"No, Trent!" The man cries out, heartbroken all over again. "Trent! Please, baby, come back!"
Harry shakes his head more, wondering if the bloke went crazy down here. He heads for the stairs, ignoring the hollering and crying behind him. He won't be making the same mistake. He'd hate to see how worked up the man would get if he saw Harry's resemblance to Trent. Would probably try something worse than a kiss? Not by much, Harry thinks, if Matron's words are anything to go by.
Crazily enough, the men are nearly at the top, panting hard but pushing through. Their Will to Live gets stronger and stronger from the flickering mess it had been. Harry pauses behind them as they crest the top and sprawl, exhausted from the climb. Terrence licks his limp fingers.
An explosion from far away catches all of their attention. They all look in that direction but of course, see nothing. But the sound is ominous and Harry wonders what's going on. "Get up!"
They nod frantically, snapping out of their frozen stupor to get to their feet. Harry steps between two, barely brushing against their naked arms against his clothed ones. They immediately latch on, one turning to blindly reach out for the third. They somehow found each other's flailing and clutch tightly. "Stay quiet, I'll lead you to the back door."
"Thank you," they whisper repeatedly. His patience for this is suddenly gone.
"Stop," Harry snaps quietly as he leads them through the room to the door. "I don’t want your gratitude, okay?"
They finally shut up. Harry would feel bad but he’s kind of out of... everything, right now. Patience, mainly but he’s also unable to care about their feelings right now. He’s tired.
At the door, Harry opens it slowly and peaks his head out. "Shite." He utters, seeing the two women bent over Matron's body. Now what are they supposed to do?
Terrence snakes out. Harry doesn’t react fast enough to pull him back. Terrence starts growling aggressively as he approaches them at a quick clip. The girls immediately react, yelping and running, even though they have guns and the Matron is dead. Terrence gives chase, making them scream instead. He stops when they disappear around the corner and rejoins Harry as he steps out. "Good boy."
Terrence sneezes.
Harry is pulled into a tight, grateful hug, "Seriously, thank you."
"Just go," Harry hisses, pushing him away.
"What about you?" Lanky asks curiously, looking around to orientate himself.
Harry looks at the other, "I don't know."
"There's a small door in the wall!" Stocky whispers eagerly. "They use it to get water!"
"Where?" Harry demands, maybe this is the way out? Terrence sits at Harry's feet, sniffing and licking his hand. A rush of fondness builds up for the dog as his nails find Terrence’s chin.
"Come with us! I'll take us there!" Stocky almost sounds pleading.
Shrugging, Harry figures it's his best shot, "Lead the way."
They leave the house behind. The air is lit with orange light, smoke and ash heavy on the air. It's enough for the men to see by as all four plus a dog run along the walls to the back corner of the commune. Harry spies and hears people fighting in the street, the blaze of fires coming from a house or two. He isn't sure what's going on but it's clear these women are not going to be in power much longer.
"Here!"
There is indeed a small door set into the fence. It's about half height and skinny, so one would have to bend and half turn to get through. All of them would fit no problem, even the stocky man. None of them are very thick in the first place.
"Go!" Harry snaps.
Harry watches their back as they painfully crawl through the door. Terrence goes next and then Harry last, closing the door firmly behind him. The distant sounds of fighting and terror are muted behind the barrier and all Harry can hear is the other men and Terrence's panting. He's out. He's free. Matron is dead. The commune is burning. He just rescued three men from the basement of horror and he's free.
"What now?"
Harry looks at the other men sitting on the ground. He sees their lost and scared expressions, unable to see or defend themselves in the pitch. "What are your names?" Harry doesn’t know if it matters. He’s just tired of calling them Stocky, Shorty and Lanky. Terrence presses into Harry's side, a long line of warmth. Harry appreciates the anchor to his raging thoughts.
"Dean," Stocky replies with a head tilt. He’s squinting in Harry’s general direction, probably trying to make his shadow out from the rest.
"Logan," Lanky answers, scratching his upper arm.
Shorty murmurs, "Trevor."
"Alright," Harry swallows thickly, feeling parched. "Can you guys make it from here?"
"I'm sure well gonna fucking try," Logan says, standing. "Thanks for… you know."
Harry shakes his head, "Enough. No more. Good luck, mate."
Logan nods and looks around, "Anyone coming with?"
Trevor grimaces, “Can I just go with you-er... what’s your name?”
“Why? Harry asks, not giving his name. “Logan is offering-”
“N-no offense to... Logan... but I don’t think any of us can see in the dark.”
Harry’s turn to grimace. He doesn’t want to be stuck escorting these guys around but they can’t hunker down here and they have a very low survival rate in the dark, especially since the sounds of the fight will be drawing any nearby Biters. Harry would regret saving these guys but that would also mean damning them to slow starvation until someone finally checked the basement.
“Oh man, I was thinking the same thing,” Dean huffs, sounding relieved. “I can’t see shit, dude.”
Harry rolls his eyes skyward and wonders what the fuck he agreed to on that train to be putting up with this shit now. Then, his lids close and he inhales, looking back down as he exhales.
“The fighting is going to draw the all the Uglies for miles,” Logan comments, sounding nervous.
Feeling a bit more centered, he stands, Terrence standing at his side as well, “Okay. Fine. Here’s a deal for you. I lead you guys out of here, find a place, or some shite shack in the middle of Dumpsville, nowhere. Then I’ll drop you off and fuck off into the twilight yonder. In return, you don’t ask me any questions. Deal?”
“Fuckin’ deal,” Logan and Dean say at the same time.
Trevor looks disappointed but agrees anyway, “Deal.”
“Good, let’s get gone,” Harry snaps, watching them jerk to their feet. “Listen close. You’ll need to stay within a couple feet of me at all times. We’ll go slow, keep a hand on my sleeve or my shirt, don’t bloody grab me. Do not fall behind. This last one is going to sound really stupid but don’t worry about the Biters, yeah?” Trevor opens his mouth but Harry is quick to cut him off. “I said no questions. Don’t fucking worry about the bloody Biters, got it?”
They all nod hesitantly.
Harry wonders how long it will take for them to break their end of the deal. Whatever, he’ll deal with it.
“Right, grab on then,” Harry says flatly, approaching them. They reach out, quickly finding him in the dark and then finding a patch of his shirt to hand onto. They cordially arrange themselves around him properly. Terrence utters a low growl but Harry shushes him. However, the others shift uncomfortably at the sound. “Good, don’t let go. Not even if you hear a Biter or even see one. Just ignore it. If you want to live to see the sunrise, don’t fucking let go. Yeah?”
“Alright, already,” Logan sighs from his left. “’m not gonna fucking let go.”
“Don’t get snippy with me,” Harry quips, lurching forward without notice. Trevor is at his back and he whimpers, his grip tightening on the chunk of fabric in hand.
“Thanks, man,” Dean says and then backtracks. “Ah, shit, uh, you’re an aweswome dude?”
Harry can’t help the quirk to his lip but otherwise ignores the remark. They all fall into uneasy silence. Barely a few minutes later, all three tense when the sounds of several Biters reaches them. They grab his arms and shoulders, Terrence growling quietly again. Their grip tightens and Harry hisses out, “Bloody hell, didn’t I say to ignore them? Leave off.” He shrugs, jerking his arms a little. The sound draws some attention but they are quickly ignored again.
Trevor whimpers as his hands resume gripping the back of his shirt. This time, he’s quite literally on Harry’s six. Logan and Dean are a lot closer as well, though only Dean has adjusted his hold from upper arm to sleeve. Terrence is still growling lowly but not doing anything about it, nervously pressing into Harry’s side. A few more Biters and it seems clear, for now. Harry adjusts his path to follow the treeline. The light of the fires is long gone, hidden by the trees. He doesn’t want to risk the forest with three people hanging onto him, there has to be a way through without braving that nightmare.
Thankfully, beyond the copse of trees is a large field with clusters of trees throughout. Harry can a sharp, odd shape in the far distance, partially hidden behind one such copse. Maybe a house? Why not check it out? Maybe if he walks a little further, he can find another house? If all else fails, he can just find a hole to crawl into. He’ll probably fit a lot better, now.
“Can I ask a totally not-related to your... stuff... question?” Trevor asks timidly. Harry doesn’t answer, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t care if its related to his stuff or not, he said no questions. Trevor continues anyway, “Why do you smell like dirt?”
“I dug myself out of my own grave to escape,” Harry answers sarcastically, though truthfully.
Logan chortles and Dean huffs a short laugh. Trevor sighs, “Right. No questions. Sorry.”
Sometimes, the truth is exactly what you need to hide the truth.
They lapse into silence again. Harry gives the sparse Biters a wide berth. Out of nowhere, a bright flash lights everything up for an instant. The shape he saw turns out to be a house. The light fades a bare second later and Harry barely registers their reaction.
Thunder rumbles overhead.
The air hasn’t suddenly cooled, so Harry knows it hasn’t started raining yet. He picks up his pace regardless, the others trying to keep up. They make it to the house a couple of minutes later, Harry leading them to the front step like a real gentleman. Terrence wanders around the side of the house.
Another flash of lightning lights up the house. They all jump a little, not expecting the large shadow to be an actual house. Harry shrugs off their hands entirely and steps off the side, “Here’s your stop. Tally ho, have a nice life.”
“Wait-”
Harry cuts them off before they can get started, “Do I need to hold your hand and feed you, too? Blimey. A deal’s a deal, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, slipping around them to leave. He can’t be trapped again. He won’t be trapped again.
“Fuck, man. We don’t even have a weapon!” Logan hisses, sounding frustrated.
“Mate, you have two hands. Just bash ‘em into the walls,” Harry replies tiredly, quickly gaining distance. He’d feel bad but... he wasn’t going to stick around. He revealed too much to them. He doesn’t know if they belong to a community or not and he’s not willing to risk it. Harry will not make the same mistake again. He’s better off alone.
Terrence presses back into his side, having caught up quickly. Harry smiles as he digs his fingers into the fur. Maybe not alone.
Harry leaves three cursing men behind, not giving them time to guilt him into staying. Harsh? Maybe. Does Harry actually care? Not at the moment, no. He gave them a fighting chance when they had none at all. He just... can’t seem to bring himself to turn around, keeping one foot in front of the other. He wonders... if one or all dies in that house, is it his fault? Is Harry being selfish for not helping further? Where is the line of where it’s okay to disengage without being a prick?
He doesn’t know. The feelings of guilt are suspiciously absent and he doesn’t even look back once. He doesn’t need to. Zoey isn’t behind him, she’s somewhere in front. He just needs to keep walking.
(He ignores how little sense that makes, he’s tired)
—
The farmhouse Harry stumbled on was completely abandoned. There were no pictures or clothes or anything inside but rotten food and a few pieces of furniture. He looks down at his clothes; they are caked in dirt and mud from his escape, once immaculate clothes sullied. Harry thinks it's just as well, he hates being in such fine apparel. He feels like a fraud. It wasn't what he was wearing when he killed himself, so he was dead long enough for him to be cleaned and redressed and then buried. Harry wonders if the revival times vary.
Harry stands again, feeling tired and sore but too wired to try sleeping. He feels his throat, his fingers tracing the raised band of scar tissue from the collar. The Matron had never taken it off, to his knowledge and the ridge is almost sharp under his fingertips. He feels numb; he figured it would be happy about losing the collar but instead he’s filled with mixed emotions. Some are good but some are jarringly negative.
He's so parched, his tongue feels weird in his mouth. He goes to the sink, knowing it won't work but willing to try anyway. As he thought, nothing happens and he absently wishes it would so he can drink. When nothing happens again, Harry remembers he can fill a bottle with pure water. He knows there's no such bottle in the house, he's looked but there is a sink here…
Harry holds his palm over the sink and concentrates. A tingle races from elbow to wrist and his hand jerks as clear water barrels out of his palm. The splashing catches Terrence's attention and he comes running up, standing and leaning on the counter to see. He instantly sniffs the water and then starts lapping at it hungrily. That tells Harry that it's indeed clean water and leans over himself to drink from his own palm. He only gets a few mouthfuls, his magic too drained to maintain the flow but it's enough. His thirst is quenched enough that his mouth feels slightly normal. He can get more once his magic recharges enough.
The window lights up in a flash of lightning, the inside of the house brightening for a split second.
Then the skies open up and pour.
Harry sits in the middle of the kitchen, arm over Terrence as the dog lays next to him. He watches the kitchen window in detached fascination and listens to the heavy rainfall hit the roof. He hasn't heard much else than the Matron, Terrence and the silence of his room in a long time. The room the Matron kept him in had no windows and he couldn't hear anything outside. Harry had been pushed into a dark place because of the Matron and he isn't sure he came out entirely okay.
Harry drops his eyes from the window to look at his wrist. It's far skinnier, almost bony. He had muscles once. He was strong, once. He feels his arm, finding a distinct lack of muscle mass he had before. He's probably rusty at fighting, not having had a chance to even practice for months. And it has been months. The end of Fall was peeking when he was taken and now it's spring. Harry can't say exactly when, since he's not actually from America but it's probably safe to say he spent at least four months in that house. Four long months being systematically suppressed and trained like a dog.
Harry feels his face, the skin too smooth on his softened hands. Another change made without his permission. He had liked all the rough parts of himself, even if no one else did because it meant he was a survivor. He's a fighter. He tried to fight his conditioning but he couldn't hold out forever. Time lost meaning in that place and Harry lost most of himself as well. The Matron took all the parts of Harry that he liked and replaced them with Trent.
He hates all of it.
Harry suddenly feels a surge of helpless rage, so angry and frustrated and sad and so, so, so furious. Harry jumps to his feet, startling Terrence and grabs the nearest chair. As lightning flashes and thunder crashes, so does the chair, flying through the dusty air and smashing against the wall. Harry screams when it doesn't break, bearing down on it to pick it up and bash it against the wall again. And again. And again, this time the chair completely falling apart. He pants, his rage still potent, looking around for the next thing to break. He spies a small coffee table and hefts it. His skinny arms shaking from the strain, Harry lifts it above his head and throws it. It doesn't go far but it's enough, cracking but not breaking.
Terrence sits in the middle of the room and watches Harry's breakdown with sad eyes. The teen angrily stalks the room, breaking furniture and screaming as he cries out all the injustices Matron heaped upon him. All the time missed with his sister. The potential for her to be dead… and he would never know.
Harry stops, harshly gulping lungfuls of air. Maybe he can. He holds out his hand and thinks of the Resurrection Stone. He waits.
It doesn't appear.
Harry sighs in aggravation, of course. If he could summon the Stone, then he could summon the Cloak and the Wand too. It would make his life far, far easier. Of course he can't summon them. What was he thinking?
Harry feels incredibly sad and resigned, dropping to the floor and tucking his face into his knees. How is he going to find Zoey? Is she even still alive? Would he know if she died? If they found each other right now, would she recognize him? He hasn't mumbled in a long time, the Matron having successfully trained him out of it. Would she still be comforted by his presence? Would she still want to be his little sister?
A nose sniffs his hand, sneezing when he doesn't move. Terrence whines, his tail thumping on the dirty floor, "Not right now."
Terrence isn't having it. He snorts and moves around Harry, digging his nose under Harry's arm and forcing his large body in the tiny space. Without his normal strength, Harry is forced to yield but this time he laughs, gaining a lapful of giant puppy. Terrence sticks his nose into Harry's neck, making the teen crick his neck with a manly squeal and then they are wrestling.
When they settle down, Harry is on his back and Terrence over his chest. His fingers are again buried into fur and he eagerly soaks up the comfort. The storm outside has broken, rain drizzling lazily in the aftermath. Harry falls asleep to it.
—
Terrence wakes Harry the next day with a sniff and snort to the ear. The teen squeals as he wakes, Terrence skittering away with a weird huffing sound. Harry sits up and stretches, feeling satisfaction when his back pops.
The house smells like urine. Harry figures Terrence took the chance to mark everything up since there hasn't been anyone around in a long time. Harry is just glad Terrence didn't pee on him.
He goes to the sink and fills it with water again, drinking as much as he can from his own palm. Terrence gulps it up until Harry cuts the flow off and the water drains away. With nothing else to do, they leave the farmhouse. Already it feels warm; the dew of the previous night’s shower is thick, the smell of wet earth and plant life like a treat to his nose. He hasn’t smelled something so deep and fresh in ages. Harry pauses to inhale slowly, a smile unknowingly gracing his face as he takes everything in. He exhales just as slowly, listening closely to the nearby birds singing so sweetly. The previous night had no time to stop and smell the daisies, if that’s how the saying goes, so he spends long moments just taking everything in.
Harry looks down when he feels something hit his hand. Terrence sits there, tail wagging hopefully with a stick looking ridiculously small in his mouth. Harry can’t help the quirk to his lips as he offers his hand. Terrence surprisingly drops the now wet stick into Harry’s waiting palm and then backs up with a very excited waggle to his rear. Back slightly arched, Terrence waits eagerly, watching Harry as he weighs the stick. Big brown eyes follow the stick religiously, making Harry laugh as he winds his arm back and chucks it. Having not much strength, it doesn’t go very far but Terrence nonetheless yaps excitedly as he takes off after it. Seconds later, Terrence is back, tail wagging hard as he drops the stick in Harry’s hand. Before the teen can wind back, Terrence backs up a lot further. This time, when the stick goes flying, Terrence makes a running leap to catch it.
The game is fun and just mind numbing enough for Harry to acclimate properly. He can’t ever recall playing fetch with a dog before and the experience is a novel one. Delight at every return is met with ever mounting excitement as Terrence gets into position for the throw. He never misses a catch.
However, Zoey begins to creep into his thoughts and the fun drains away. Terrence catches onto his change of mood and drops the stick, panting as he sits on Harry’s shoe.
“We have a long way to go, boy. You ready?” Harry asks, looking down at the massive dog that isn’t much shorter than he.
Terrence whuffs, licking his chomps. His tail wags slowly, hesitantly but beginning to pick up speed. He leans in and licks the back of Harry’s hand as well.
Harry uses that hand to give Terrence a scritch behind his ear, “Glad to have you on board.” Terrence groans into the contact.
Harry doesn't know where he is; he chooses a direction he’s fairly sure is in the opposite way of the prison he just escaped and starts walking. Today, he is filled with new determination. He knows Negan wouldn't take Lucille and Zoey out of Washington entirely. He would find a place, if not in the city, then just outside it. Zoey and Harry developed a few symbols together to give each other secret messages. Messages like stay here I find you, I'm here find me, not safe go back, and safe place near. They have a few more but the pertinent ones he remembers. If Zoey is alive and looking for him, he will find their secret messages in the area she's in. They will find each other.
His first course of action is to find a town. Finding a city or town might yield a map. With a town name and general idea where to look, Harry can determine where he is. From there, he can find the fastest route back to Washington where he can start looking for Zoey. It's a simple plan with many, many ways it can go wrong but Harry feels hope for the first time in ages. He can do this.
"Just us, Terrence," Harry says to the dog as they traverse through the fields surrounding the farmhouse. Terrence looks up and whines. Harry feels hunger pangs as well. "I know, boy. Think you can find us some food?"
Terrence's ears perk up at food but otherwise doesn't react. Harry didn't think so but it was worth a shot anyway.
The large dog pauses, staring into the far distance keenly. Harry immediately stops as well, casting his own gaze across the horizon. In the far distance is a caravan of vehicles that disappear soon after, heading away from them. Not wanting to meet anyone else, if ever, Harry decides to remain cautious moving forward. This area sees a lot of activity for how wide, open and distant it is from the city. Harry can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.
---
Hungry and parched yet again, Harry does find a town. He must have come at it from the side or something because the streets are lined with houses. He goes for the nearest one, finding the front door locked. He decides to check the back door first, finding it wide open. That sign doesn’t generally bode well but if anything, it guarantees no one living is inside. Terrence stays right on his heels as Harry heads quietly inside, finding a few Biters. The dead pay them no mind and other than eyeing them warily, Terrence stays right on Harry’s rear. It’s more comforting than annoying, so Harry doesn’t do anything about it.
He checks every cupboard, the sounds drawing the dead closer but finds no food. No water but some bottles. They don’t have lids, so he can’t use them, setting them aside with a sigh. He doesn’t dare open the fridge door to check.
A quick tour of the house yields a few backpacks. Harry takes the most sturdy looking one with few pockets and finds a couple sets of clothes that will be big on him but fit well enough. He changes right there, forced to grab a the smallest belt to hold up his pants and then ponders if its worth taking the clothes along to be burned when he finds the materials for a fire. After a few moments of thinking, he deems it not worth his time and energy. They are just clothes; albeit, ones with strong significance but it’s not the clothes’ fault for that.
(Great, now he’s giving inanimate objects the benefit of the doubt)
He leaves them on the floor in a heaping, sad pile. Maybe someday someone will find them and deem them worthy of being cleaned and worn again. That person will never be Harry, so what does he care? Now dressed far more comfortably, Harry leaves the house, Terrence close at heel.
The dog is strangely quiet as Harry goes from house to house. The back doors are always open, most of them infested with Biters. It’s a rather strange phenomenon. Did a nearby community clean the town out? As the sun climbs to it’s peak and then begins the slow drift down, Harry wanders the rather large suburban area. He stops double checking the houses with the open back door sometime after noon, not finding a single speck of food or water. Harry had to expend more energy for some water so that neither of them get too dehydrated. Hunger claws at his stomach as they explore but with no way to soothe it, Harry is forced to ignore it.
The clearing of houses is almost systematic. Curiously, Harry inspects a few more blocks before calling it quits. He won’t be finding food in this area of town. That means he needs to find the downtown area.
He comes across the first major intersection, lights inactive with various vehicles jammed into each other. The car with the Biter still at the wheel is a prime place to look, so Harry does. The trunk is open and empty but the back seat has a few black bags, almost indecipherable in the tinted gloom. They don’t hold food, sadly but there is a fair sized knife, some clothes and a large, thick plastic reusable bottle. Harry leaves the clothes, they wouldn’t suit him anyway, but he does take the knife and the bottle, intending on filling it when he has the chance to clean it properly. The knife he sticks into the belt he was forced to grab to keep his pants on his skinny hips but the bottle disappears into his bag.
Harry pauses as he turns to leave, the weak snarl of the Biter at the wheel drawing his attention. It had been a woman once. She may have been beautiful, she may have not but she was a person before all this. What she did for a living isn’t readily apparent and it doesn’t seem like she had children but...
Harry draws the knife and puts it down, gently resting the now limp head on the headrest of the seat. He can do that, at least.
It doesn’t take him long thereafter to find what could only be the shopping district. Harry eyes the worn sign above the nearest building, Ruby General Store is faded but still legible. So the town he’s in is Ruby? Well, that will be useful. The doors have a slow stream of Biters lingering around the entrance, walking in and out in lazy circles. The sight does nothing to give Harry reason there is something remaining inside but it’s worth a shot. If nothing else, something to eat for Terrence. As much as the dog obviously loves him, hunger drives many domestic animals to do something horrific to survive. Besides, Terrence needs to eat far more than he right now; the dog is his only source of real protection. The knife gives him an edge but not much of one with how weak he is.
Harry manages to find a can of dog food but little else. He forces it open with his knife and feeds it to Terrence with his fingers. He’s happy for the find, even if he doesn’t get any. Terrence is a huge dog and needs more than a small can of no name dog food. He comes up past Harry's waist. Zoey, when Harry first met her, would be able to ride on his back, he's so big. Not many people wanted to mess with huge dogs before all this. He's counting on the same being true now.
After Terrence is done investigating the now empty can, they move on.
Harry doesn’t bother checking any of the buildings with the back doors wide open. He now knows from experience that there is nothing inside in the way of food. There may be other supplies but food is priority and daylight is beginning to get precious. He finds the main thoroughfare, lined with stagnant cars parked haphazardly and broken windows leaving glass along the pavement of the sidewalks. The area looks almost decimated; were the riots and looting here that bad?
It’s not long until he finds a potentially useful building to explore. Harry breaks into the Visitor's and Information Centre, finally yielding a map he can use. With the light of the waning day, he's able to make out where he is and follows the roads he needs to take to get back to Washington. Highway Ninety-five goes straight to the heart of the city but it's not the heart he wants or needs. Either Harry finds that highway and follows it or he tries to navigate the wilds north and hope he doesn't get lost. On one hand, the highway would undoubtedly be dangerous; people might be watching it for survivors to victimize. On the other hand, Harry doesn't know how to navigate the wilds and he certainly doesn't know how to hunt or find wild food.
Either path presents certain dangers and risks. Harry eventually decides to risk the highway because he knows he'll somehow get turned around and lost.
A memory teases his thoughts and he remembers a conversation between Negan and him. He bends back over the map and carefully traces the streets and avenues until he finds a specific area on the map. Harry circles it roughly, destination set. He had told Negan he felt good about that area. He'll see if they managed to find anything there. Zoey undoubtedly would have slapped their symbol everywhere to find him. He'll find them.
First, however, it's too dark to travel. Harry carefully folds the map back up, pushing Terrence's snout out of his face and then standing.
Harry wonders if he should head back to the side of the town he arrived in. He knows there’s nothing living there but the trip will take him far too long and none of them are clear of Biters, which means more work to clear the house for the night. Decision made, Harry finds a house that looks promising. As he walks across the lawn for the back door, though, Terrence begins growling. Harry half crouches and looks at the dog, seeing him growling at the house. Deciding he can find another house, Harry turns to go but the front door opens and a small head peeks out.
Harry pauses, looking at the small dark skinned child staring out at him. The kid says nothing and Harry doesn't either, locked in a strange staring contest. Then, the kid startles and shuts the door. The curtains rustle a little but otherwise, no other sign that the house is inhabited. Harry doesn't know what to make of it but knows he won't be able to take on anyone in that house. He definitely doesn't want to risk Terrence if he doesn't have to. He just walks away, Terrence at his heel.
The door opens again.
Harry pauses again, wary. This time, an older kid peeks out, staring at Harry in a way that makes him turn back completely. Harry tilts his head and the kid looks around frantically before sticking his hand out and motioning for Harry to come closer. Even more wary, Harry glances around himself and then approaches. Terrence doesn't growl again but he isn't relaxed, keeping his nose to the air and ears perked.
The sun disappears behind some clouds, sending the town into deep shadows. Harry hurries up the steps and the boy disappears back inside. Harry puts his hand on the handle and looks back down at Terrence, who is still but for a slowly wagging tail. Taking that as a good sign, Harry inhales and exhales as he pushes the door open and closes it behind them.
Harry takes in the odd scene in front of him. The front door immediately leads to an open living room with several beds on the floor. There are blankets, sheets, pillows and garbage everywhere. Kids and teens of all ages, looking to be around thirteen in total, sit in every available space.
Someone locks the door behind him and Harry turns to find a fourteenth kid, an older teenager like him. The taller teen has an uncanny resemblance to Gene, so much so that the first thing Harry blurts out is, "Mate, you have a brother?"
He goes pale and his eyes widen, "Gene? Have you seen my brother? Where is he?!"
Harry is hit with another wave of self-recriminations for not being able to save Gene. The mousy kid did have a family and they've been wondering where he is for months now. Harry drops his eyes to the floor, "I'm sorry."
The sound that comes out of the teen is part resignation and the rest grief; he probably knew his brother was dead but didn't know for sure. "Oh no... how?"
"It's a bit of a story," Harry rasps hesitantly, wondering if he should reach out and comfort the other teen. Deciding not to, he asks instead, "What are all of you doing here?"
Gene's older brother sniffs, pulling himself together to answer, "I’m Jessie. We're all that's left of the town. Everyone else got taken or left or died."
"Everyone?" Harry asks. "Taken? Is there a group of survivors nearby that's taking people?" Harry is seriously hoping it’s just the one community that’s terrorizing the area.
"It's all women and they only seem to take boys," a smaller teen girl pipes up from the couch. She has a toddler in her lap, the one that peeked out the door at him. The little brown skinned boy's eyes are huge and round as he stares right at Harry. "They take girls too… but…"
"The girls join them instead," Harry finishes knowingly, gaining a few looks of surprise. "I escaped from there."
Harry's stomach rumbles angrily before anyone can respond. He puts his hand over it, "Sorry, you guys cleared the town out good. Only found food for Terrence."
The dog is hiding behind Harry's skinny bulk unsuccessfully but no one dares to approach the massive animal.
"We don't have much food left," Jessie cuts in. "But we can share. Tell me what happened with Gene. How did you guys meet?"
Harry nods, the kids clearing a space for him to sit. He scratches Terrence's head and prepares himself for the conversation ahead. It's going to be heavy and hard, for sure but Gene's brother deserves to know the truth. Harry wouldn't keep Gene's fate a secret. I must not tell lies might no longer be inscribed on his hand but it feels like it is on his soul. Harry knows what it's like to have people lie to your face.
Harry sits down, Terrence finding space to curl near him, "I met Gene the same day I was taken. The women used a ruse...”
Terrence’s large head burrows into his lap. Harry absently buries his fingers into the fur. The contact is grounding, allowing him to talk through the hardest part of the story. Though Harry had been wary of those men, how much bigger and stronger they were compared to his emaciated self, he doesn’t feel nearly as much anxiety revealing his powers to these kids. They are all as skinny and weak as he is, what the hell were they going to do to him?
“I’m sorry, Jessie,” Harry finishes, grimacing as he looks at the other teen. Jessie has fresh tears tracking his cheeks. The sight makes fresh guilt surge up.
Jessie shakes his head, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand, “No. It’s that Bitch’s fault. She killed Gene, not you. At least you tried to help.”
It doesn’t make the guilt go away.
Jessie stands, “I need to be alone. Just... sleep anywhere, I don’t care.”
Harry watches him go. He eyes the other kids, some having fallen asleep and some watching him in turn. Harry doesn’t want to talk to any of them, feeling wrung out and done. He hadn’t thought of Gene in ages and it was unexpectedly hard to relive that day. All Harry has thought about, the entire time he was alone in that Room and under the Matron’s heel, was Zoey and braiding her hair. Escaping and finding her.
It’s also incredibly strange, to be near other breathing people that are not out to hurt him. He feels more than a little on edge, grateful for Terrence’s bulk. The lack of playful behaviour has certainly set some off from approaching. Harry is glad for it. He doesn’t have the mental energy to answer any more questions tonight. He leans into Terrence’s warmth, savouring it and the comfort it brings. He feels confident that the large dog will keep anyone from doing anything to him. It’s what allows him to drift off.