Chapter 9
Harry pets Terrence absently as he peers out the window.
The other kids are all asleep, practically piled on top of each other. Harry is the only one awake (nightmare, it’s lovely to dream about the Room, it really is), keeping his ears open and eyes sharp. He pauses when he sees movement but dismisses it as a Biter.
The house has a second level but none of them seem to want to be split up. Having them all in the living room isn't ideal but it seems to be working out for them. There are a couple of mattresses and the other kids are sprawled out over every foot, some over each other, some burritoed in their blanket and one, amusingly, is sleeping with his rear sticking straight up.
Terrence sniffs his ear. Harry jerks away and suppresses the giggle threatening to erupt. Terrence whines as he stands, trotting to the door. After a moment, Harry feeling stupid for not knowing what the dog wants, Terrence whines again and looks at the door. Finally getting a clue, Harry stands and lets Terrence out of the house. Stepping out himself, Harry shuts the door and finds his own spot to go. Terrence rejoins his side as he makes his way back to the door and both go back in, Harry looking around one last time before shutting the door.
He sits back down where he had been before, spot still a little warm from occupancy. Terrence settles down behind him again and Harry leans back onto him, looking out the window. After a while, his mind begins drifting, gathering wool almost lazily. Then, Harry draws away from his musings at the sound of a whimper. He looks at the pile and one small child crawls over the others. Dray, if Harry remembers right, stands and pads over, a ragged toy in the crook of his arm.
"Hey, little guy," Harry whispers as Dray stops within reach. "You okay?"
Dray stares up at Harry with serious, serious eyes. Harry feels like the kid is sizing him up and wonders if he's lacking something the kid is obviously looking for. Dray then crawls into Harry's lap, prompting Harry to lift his arms out of the way. Once settled, Dray leans into his chest, "Bad dream."
Oh.
Harry encircles Dray in his arms and cuddles the toddler to him. The kid is just looking for comfort. Harry can give that in spades and he just doesn’t have the heart to turn him away. "Wanna tell me about it?"
"Mama gone," Dray says quietly. "Dada, Unca byebye."
Harry doesn't know exactly what the kid just revealed but feels that he just remembered his parents dying. Harry knows how that feels. "Sounds scary. You okay?"
Dray doesn't answer. Harry peeks down and finds the toddler already back asleep. Just as well, he needs sleep as much as the others. Harry leaves Dray on his lap, shifting to get more comfortable. He's never been able to turn off the need to sooth children, comfort them when they need it. Dray very obviously needs this - whatever this is; comfort, adult-like presence, something - and Harry isn't going anywhere. It's not a big deal.
Harry feels his heart ache, missing Zoey fiercely.
Terrence lifts his head to sniff at Dray and then lays back down. Harry is also incredibly grateful the dog stuck with him thus far. There is no way he smells like Trent and unlike the Matron, Harry knows that even looking like Trent isn't enough to sway an animal. They are scent and instinct based and Terrence seems incredibly smart for a dog. It just seems far fetched to think Terrence chose him because of some passing resemblance. Do dogs even work that way?
Harry wouldn't know. He only ever interacted with one dog and he can't even remember what the dog looked like or who it belonged to.
Harry soothes a building nightmare as the sky starts to lighten in pinks and yellows. There are footsteps on the second floor that slowly make their way to the stairs. After a few moments, Jessie appears, pale and drawn.
"Morning," Harry greets quietly.
Jessie nods but otherwise doesn't speak. He gets his shoes on and heads out without a word. Harry watches him run around the corner, out of sight and can't help but feel like the kid shouldn't be out so early. It was quiet all night but he has a strange feeling simmering in his gut. Like something is going to happen but not necessarily in a bad way?
He's not making much sense to himself. Did the Matron scramble his brain, as well? Harry suddenly remembers feeling like his brain liquidated in his head and muses that she probably did. He wasn’t very okay after all of that. He isn’t sure if the trip to the infirmary was the result of the extra long shock or his body just finally giving up after so long of being systematically malnourished and abused. Harry idly wool-gathers, lost in his darkening thoughts.
The hours trickle by, dawn slowly sliding into morning. Dray rouses first, grunting as he sits up and rubs his eyes. Harry can't say he's never melted at a cute sight before but it has been a while. The toddler's fists are so tiny. Dray looks around after and pauses when his eyes land on Harry.
Dray's eyes rivet to Harry's and he stares, with a strange intensity for a kid. Harry bears the gaze, unsure what the toddler keeps looking for. Then, like nothing happened, Dray slumps back into Harry's chest. The teenager has no idea how to react, so he shelves it for later.
Harry tilts his head to look at the little boy better, "Morning. Have a good sleep?"
Dray nods, looking up.
"That's great. No more bad dreams?"
A small shake of the head.
"That's lovely," Harry replies, not minding the one sided conversation one bit. At least the little boy was answering him. He can ask yes or no questions until he feels comfortable enough to talk more.
"He doesn't talk much," Harry's attention is drawn to one of the teenage girls with blonde hair. She's looking at Dray and her eyes flick up to his. Harry can see her cheeks flush as she continues, "I'm actually surprised he took to you so fast. He's pretty shy."
"I seem to have that effect on kids," Harry dismisses, gaining a searching look from her. He tries to redirect her attention, suddenly feeling keenly uncomfortable, "His parents…?"
She shrugs, "I don't know. A man brought him in… I don't know, a few months ago? We still had some adults around then. He said he found Dray further south, unattended. Not sure how true that is."
"Did that man-?"
She nods to the window, "He was taken that same day, along with some more adults."
Harry doesn't want to share how those adults might not come back at all. She might already know, the weight of so many children on the other teen's shoulders must be a heavy one. On any of them. He can't imagine keeping this many kids quiet and contained is an easy task.
"Have you guys thought about what you are going to do?" Harry asks carefully.
"Do?" She sounds so lost and confused, staring at him blankly. Does she not know how dire their situation is? Has Jessie not said anything to these kids about the rising issue of food acquisition? Do they know how to kill the Biters? Just how sheltered are these kids?
Harry nods, wishing he didn’t have to broach the subject, "I wasn't lying when I said you cleaned out the town. There's no food left here. There's barely any in the house and there's fourteen of you. Did you guys make any plans to leave? Or to find more food?"
Her face drops and Harry has his answer, "I didn't even think about that."
Figures. The adults that were caring for them disappeared one by one to that commune or to death, not to be heard from again. Teenagers don't inherently think about consequences or plan for what's next. Harry should have expected these kids to have absolutely no idea. Now he's torn; he can't stay, he needs to find Zoey but he can't, in good conscience, leave these kids here on their own. The younger ones cannot defend themselves and the older ones are just a touch too few to keep all of the young ones in hand.
They will be forced to leave and most of them will die as a result. Harry doesn't know if he can just walk away and leave them here. This isn’t the same situation as the three fully grown men who already know how to take care of themselves
Harry nods, expecting that, "Do you have any ideas on where to go?"
She shakes her head, looking far more troubled than a few minutes ago, "We-when our parents got taken, we were hoping they would… I don't know, escape or something. Come back. We just had to wait."
Harry can see how that thin thread of hope keeps her going. Harry can't imagine being in her place, even if it would have been preferred to his fun winter months. Her parents could still be alive. He doesn't know. He hopes they are, for her sake; enough people have died already, she shouldn’t be an orphan so soon.
"How did you guys figure all this out?" Harry waves an arm around, referencing the house and the set up they have going on in the living room.
She shrugs, "This is Jessie's house. He figured, with his Dad gone to look for Gene, we may as well wait here. The kids kept havin’ nightmares and we kept havin’ to sleep in the same beds so Jessie had everyone set up in here and it’s worked out since. Not many nightmares, at least.”
"How long?"
"I don't know. A while. Some snow come and gone a few times, I think this is the last, though." Harry nods, thinking. "Jessie goes out everyday. Sometimes I go or Kevin but he goes out every day. I think he's… looking for his Dad.” She looks at her lap, twisting her hands. “And Gene." There is grief there. Were they friends?
"I'd want closure too," Harry replies, looking back out the window. He can’t bring himself to comfort her, wouldn’t know how. "One way or the other."
"Do you have family?" She asks curiously, tone light.
Harry nods, flicking his eyes down to Dray's curly head, "Little sister. Zoey. She's fourteen, I think. Must have missed her birthday by now." The toddler's curls remind him of Zo's. He suddenly, viscerally misses braiding her hair and has to swallow down the resulting rock in his throat.
"How long were you there for?"
"I'm not sure how long Gene was with them when they grabbed me," Harry says, thinking. The months in that room dulled his faculties a bit and he has a hard time remembering a lot of it. All of it just kind of blurs together into one big mess. "Months."
"That's horrible," she shakily whispers. "What was that place like?"
“I can’t really say,” Harry replies with a grimace. “I was kept in the house all this time. I just know they took men and enslaved them but not much else.” He rubs the spot on his chest where he shot himself. He hadn’t wanted to do that. Killing himself was his Hail the Queen last resort, only do this if he’s on the wrong side of desperate. Now he has to hope he never meets any of the people that saw him die, or else there are going to be a lot of ugly questions. Shouldn’t be hard once he begins his trek north.
She nods, accepting the answer at face value and dropping the subject. At least she has some empathy for what is clearly a touchy subject.
“You okay?”
Harry is kept from responding, movement outside catching his attention. As the girl utters a soft inquiry, Harry stares intently out the window, making out several figures approaching the house. He only recognizes Jessie and tries to determine if the kid is under duress. He's pulling someone along behind him but Harry can't see who.
"Jessie is back," Harry explains quietly. "He has people with him."
She slinks to the window and looks out. A gasp and she's racing to the door, startling some of the sleeping children awake. Increasingly bewildered, Harry looks back out the window and watches the girl run up to and hug one of them. She buries her face in their chest, clearly overcome with emotion. They must be from the commune, then. He hopes no one there knows him.
It's barely a moment later that five more adults, four men and one woman, come into the house. Harry tenses but watches, heart clenched in empathy and happiness, as some of the children are reunited with their parent. He still doesn't recognize any of them but honestly doesn't expect to know anyone but the mansion guards and the Matron. It's not surprising that most are siblings, so the fourteen once orphans are down to a handful. He feels sad for the remaining but they seem to be in good hands.
Jessie walks into the house, looking far happier than when he left. His arm is connected to another and Harry feels the air being punched out of his lungs when Gene comes into view.
"Harry," Jessie says, grinning widely, oblivious to Harry's breathing predicament. "Gene is actually alive!"
Somehow, Gene is. The boy Harry met all those months ago has grown a few inches but otherwise looks remarkably the same. However, Harry eyes the perfectly round hole in the teen's head with growing horror. What the-Harry's head is filled with information, telling him what ails Gene and what can be done to fix it. The boy is blank eyed and listless but undoubtedly, irrefutably alive. The wound is miraculously, delicately sealed and slowly healing from the sides inwards but at the rate it’s going, it will be years before the hole is fully closed. However, more than that-
Harry didn't fail.
But…
He didn't succeed, either... did he?
"How?" Harry asks, gobsmacked. He looks at Jessie pleadingly, willing the other to understand that he didn’t lie, "I didn't-I swear, Jessie, he was dead!" His panicked voice wakes Dray from his doze and he startles, sitting up.
"Dad said one of the religious ladies found him wandering around and hid him," Jessie says, eyes alight in joy. "They took care of him because they thought he was Jesus reborn or something."
Harry doesn't understand religious people. Kid walks around with a hole in his head and they fall to their knees to give a prayer instead of calling somebody. The point is moot, since they can't call anymore, but still. What the bloody fuck? Harry can concede that it's best that they hid him. The Matron would not have allowed it.
"Lucky, then," Harry says, eyeing the boy he still felt he failed to save. The hole is a stark reminder of that horrific moment. "Gene, you hear me?"
The only response is Gene's eyes moving slowly. They shift from some distant point beyond reality to his face. It takes a few moments for their eyes to connect but no signs of recognition or even higher thought crosses the dull, almost lifeless orbs. Gene stares blankly for a few moments before his eyes simply slide away.
Harry shifts Dray, enabling him to stand and leave the toddler in his place. Gene slowly looks right at him but again, no recognition crosses his eyes. He reminds Harry, uncomfortably, of the Biters without the urge to bite. Walking, placidly reacting to stimuli, almost sleep walking, in a way.
A man walks in before Harry can say anything else, standing just behind the two teens. The resemblance between them is enough to denote relation but Harry couldn't begin to guess what kind. The man places a hand on Gene's shoulder, gaining no reaction whatsoever, "Jess, who's this?"
"Oh, this is Harry, Dad," Jessie replies, inadvertently answering Harry's question. "He's the one that saved Gene!"
Their Father crumbles at the revelation, "You? You saved my boy?"
Harry grimaces, "I thought I failed," he motions uselessly to the rather obvious hole in Gene's head. "M-Matron shot him. Twice. I-"
"Thank you," Their Father practically sobs, moving forward and reaching out. Harry flinches and steps away again, this time Terrence growling in warning. The man stops, taken off guard. He eyes the dog with an almost feral edge, the kind Harry is beginning to think is just default for survivors these days.
Taking this chance, Harry sheepishly says, "Um, your welcome, I guess... er?"
“John,” He backs off with a shaky smile, going back to his listless son. Gene looks at his own Father but no recognition passes his eyes. John takes a moment to smile at his son, even though it is tinged with sadness. The man is clearly happy his son isn’t dead but what kind of existence has Gene been living all this time?
All things considered, the teen's father is heavily muscled and in good condition. He must have been sorted into Labour by the ever enigmatic Matron. Not that anything that happened in the commune was in any way okay but at least he wasn't shot point blank to the face. Silver linings exist even in dire circumstances, Harry finds. It often embodies the lesser evil.
"Has he been like this the entire time?" Harry asks, recalling when Death appeared to reap Gene's soul. When did the women find him? How did they sneak him away without anyone asking questions? How did they hide him, when most of the women would have ratted them out for favor with the Matron?
"I don't know," John shakes his head. "I found him when we took to arms to help take over Zenobia."
A small hand grasps Harry's finger and he looks down, drawn out of his thoughts by Dray's cute face. Melting just a little, Harry asks, "Yes, Dray?"
Dray puts his arms up, a wordless, universal plea to be picked up. Harry has yet thus far been unable to say no when a child turns to him for comfort, so he automatically bends to lift Dray onto his nonexistent hip. The toddler snuggles into Harry's side and settles down.
"Wow," Jessie says with a bit of awe. "Dray took to you quickly. Understandable, though." Harry opens his mouth to ask but Jessie continues, looking at Gene, "Can you heal him?"
John frowns, bewildered, "What?"
Harry nods hesitantly and swallows thickly, "I'll try my best." He has the Knowledge and his magical levels feel stable from the food and rest. The thing is... Harry can’t heal Gene if he doesn’t have the Will to Live. What if that happens? How could he explain to the hopeful John and Jessie that his powers are almost laughably limited?
Jessie, probably recalling Harry's vague explanations on the limit of his healing prowess, only nods nervously, "Is he in pain?"
Harry tilts his head, ignoring John’s continued inquiries, "I don't know." Harry reaches out, already Knowing how to heal it. Harry somehow even has the sense of how much magic it will take to heal. The influx of information, where there had been none before, is almost staggering. One thing is for sure, the mousy teen isn’t feeling any pain. "He's not. The bullet hole healed enough to keep him alive. I'm not sure how but I should have enough energy to try."
Harry hovers his hand over Gene's head. His magic tingles from elbow to palm, gentle and smooth like a slow flowing river. It seeps from his hand like a mist only he can see, sinking into Gene's skin. Harry marvels, for once seeing his own healing powers at play. The difference is stark and startling; how did his powers grow so quickly? The lack of reaction from the other two tells him that they can’t see his magic seeping out.
The drag on his magic is harsh but expected; what isn't expected is the amount of magic he now has. The pull is hard, because of the amount of magic being channelled but his reservoir is much bigger than it used to be. However, beyond his new capabilities and beyond the mysteries behind it, the fact that Gene is healing means that he is in there somewhere. He's still fighting. Harry couldn’t feel that spark of life, for one reason or another but as the damage slowly erases, it begins to flare into being.
"Oh my God." John gasps in wonder, sounding like he’s witnessing a religious moment.
Harry feels an electric tingle as his magic slows and stops. He drops his arm, marvelling as Gene blinks rapidly. His face drops into a frown and his eyes shift to Jessie's dangerously hopeful face. The mousy teen grimaces, squinting, wincing in pain but- "J-Jess?"
Jessie let out the breath he was holding, laughing almost incredulously, "Gene? Brother?" Their Father is equally hanging in the moment, eyes wide and hopeful.
Gene glances around and immediately finds his Dad. Again, the squint, wince, obviously in pain- "Dad?"
Exhaustion waves through Harry right then and he's forced to take a few steps back to sit down, quickly adjusting Dray to his front. Terrence is quick to get out of the way and then places himself firmly between the others and Harry. The raven keeps his eyes down as the reunion the small family had been waiting for plays out. He cannot wait to find Zoey. His heart aches to find his little Sister and experience the reunion he's determinedly ignoring. "Still good, Dray?"
Dray pulls back a little, "Hungie."
"Hungry?" Harry quirks a smile. "Can you wait for a few minutes Draygon?"
"What dray-go?" Dray asks instead, sitting up with an adorable, suspicious frown on his face. Harry feels his lips twitch at the cute display but tries to keep his amusement to himself. He doesn’t want the little boy to think he’s making fun of him.
"A dragon," Harry explains in a quiet, conspiratorial tone, instantly catching Dray’s singular focus. "Is a mighty beast with big wings. It blows fire and roars very loudly." Dray's eyes go wide as Harry stage-whispers a dragon's roar. "I think you are a dragon because you are super brave."
Dray suddenly roars, startling even the reunited family into looking at him. Harry laughs, genuinely amused, "Good, Draygon! Just like that!"
Dray grins, for the first time showing positive emotions. He giggles and claps his hands, roaring again. Harry just grins, "See? Mighty Draygon! Ready to go find some food?"
"We brought some food," John pipes up, arm over the younger teen's shoulders. "We didn't know how long it would take to find them so we brought supplies with us."
Harry accepts the offering and rips open the package, feeding Dray small bits he won't choke on. He asks, "What are your plans?"
"Zenobia is ours, now," John replies confidently. "Some of the women were sick of the Matron’s rule and helped get some people in to help take over. Another community was also sick of them taking their men, so they collaborated and then attacked. Those who were close to the Matron flew the coop when her body was found, so the entire place was easy to take over. Everyone is free, thank God, so we came back to find our kids. We're going to take them back there as soon as we can. What about you?"
Harry glances over, "I have family to find as well. Washington."
"That will take you weeks to walk," John replies, not unkindly. He earnestly asks Harry, "Return to Zenobia with us. Give us a few days to get things settled and sorted and we can drive you up instead."
Though the idea certainly has merit, Harry feels a paralyzing terror shoot through him at the thought of returning to that place. He will not be okay with going anywhere near that place any time soon. Not one foot inside the walls, ever again. Harry was actually hoping the place would burn to the ground, displacing all the women that lived there. Gain a little Karma for all the men they tormented for no reason.
"I appreciate the offer, mate," Harry says, trying to sound genuine but feeling like a failure at that, too. "But I hope you can understand that I never want to be back within those walls. Ever.”
He frowns, eyeing Harry critically, "Where were you? I don’t remember ever seeing you. What did she do to you?"
Harry swallows and hedges, "Around and nothing worse than what you have been through. I wouldn't mind some food for the road but I'd rather walk, thanks.”
Nodding, the man thankfully lets it go, "Fair enough. I'll get you some supplies."
Harry finishes feeding Dray, chomping down the rest in two large bites. He's given a bag and, sufficiently rested to get some distance today, gets up to leave.
It is a surprise, however, that when he goes to give Dray to, well, anyone, the toddler starts sobbing. He clutches to Harry like the ground is made of lava and the hands held out to take him are connected to monsters. As much as it hurt to do so, Harry tried to force the issue, manually disentangling the starfish suctioned to him and attempting to hand him over. When Dray begins screaming, Harry gives up.
"Okay, okay, shh…" Harry coos comfortingly, rocking the highly upset toddler. What’s gotten into him? He’s only known Harry for half a day, if that. He’s known the others for months and he’s screaming as if they will hurt him. It’s so strange and unusual, going by Jessie’s reaction.
Jessie looks freaked out, sitting next to the still dazed Gene, "I've never seen him act like this before."
Harry can only shrug, out of potential suggestions to explain why. Sometimes kids just don’t make any sense. It’s something parents just get used to over time, instead directing their energy into keeping the tiny, contained instrument of destruction from doing too much damage. "I can't even tell you."
John is frowning but eventually gives in and shrugs, "Nothing to it, I guess. We have nothing to knock him out and it's not good for him to scream all the way there either."
Harry slumps his shoulders, "I'll follow you until the walls and then we'll try. That way, at least you'll have safety and security to hide his screaming behind."
It's not ideal but Harry doesn't think taking the toddler with him is the greatest idea. Despite his abilities, toting a toddler around is dangerous, especially since Harry doesn't actually know where he's going. He could be searching for weeks. No permanent shelter and no guarantee of food. Even if Dray desperately wants to go with Harry, the teen can't bring himself to say yes because he knows that Dray will be far safer in a community.
Nodding, John stands and leaves, talking to the other strangers he brought with him. During the entire dramatic scene, preparations were being made in the background, so it was only a matter of getting ready. Dray is already calming down, still clenching Harry's shirt in tiny, tight fists as he slumps into a nap. They leave the house shortly after. Terrence sticks to Harry's side like glue, making Harry feel far more confident than he otherwise would be, surrounded by strangers. Dray sleeps through the entire walk out of town, tuckered out from his tantrums earlier. His grip is no less tight than when he was awake, so very little hope of handing the little man off to someone else and disappearing. Harry would feel bad about it but Dray, like many small children, will bounce back and be fine.
The streets are empty and barren, garbage listlessly swaying in the slight breeze. The wind is warm and already pretty thick with the promise of a hot summer. However, the smell is beginning to become rank, the heat beginning to bake rotting flesh. Harry tries to keep Dray’s face pressed into his neck to avoid the worst of it.
If anyone had noticed the lack of interest from the Biters, no one mentions it. Harry doesn't volunteer the information, more than content with keeping to himself. Besides, the other adults kill the nearest Biters anyway for crowd control, so it doesn’t seem to come up. He’ll step in if he needs to but until then, he’d rather have at least a little anonymity.
(Moot point at the moment, considering everyone knows he can heal people now but they don’t need to know everything)
Dray wakes sometime after they left town, wanting to be let down but taking Harry's hand instead. The toddler is keen not to let Harry go far and tries to hide when someone comes close enough to grab him. Harry finds it more amusing than anything, not wanting to force the issue again with them out in the open as they are. Terrence whumps and disappears into the nearest bush with his nose to the ground.
It is, of course, when Harry's luck runs out again.
Out of the treeline about half a mile in front of them and to the left, four military vehicles sprout in single file. Harry stops dead, heart picking up double time when the train stops.
Harry turns to the others, suddenly realizing who it must be, "Military! Grab the kids and run!”
They scatter. The reunited families naturally stick together and somehow the orphans are not overlooked but in seconds, they are all running in different directions. Harry just turns heel, picking Dray up and holding him tightly as he runs for their lives. The little boy whimpers in terror, not understanding what’s going on. A distant yell can be heard and a door slams. Then, an engine revs loudly, ripping through the air. Harry dares not look back, hearing tires leave gravel and an approaching growl. It quickly, steadily gets louder until it’s nearly deafening roar drowning out even Dray’s terrified screaming.
Harry stops and kneels, holding one hand up as the jeep swerves in front of him to cut him off. Dray is grasping at him hard, scared out of his little mind. Harry puts up his other hand, Dray starfish’ing hard enough to keep him there as the driver steps out aggressively, revealing the man he fought in Atlanta. He looks nearly demented, eyes wide and almost crazed. Deranged is the real word he’s looking for.
"I'll cooperate!" Harry pleas, raising his hands further and making the man pause. "Please, he's barely four. I won't fight!"
The man steps forward, snarl on his face, “I don’t care for the boy.” Harry cringes over Dray, trying to protect him but suddenly, Terrence barks. Harry whips his head up in time to see the huge dog jump, knocking the man over onto his back.
"Terrence!" Harry yelps, terrified for his friend. However, he pauses in shock as Terrence whines and licks the man’s face, looking overjoyed. Is this man Terrence’s original owner?
"What? Wait-" The man exclaims, laughing and digging his hands into thick fur. Terrence groans in appreciation, pausing to whine some more. "It's… you! I-... I found you! I finally found you!” The reunion would seem touching, if not for one small, minute, mind-blowing, what the bleedin’ fuck-?
Harry is speechless. He's unable to properly articulate the frankly crazy thing he's witnessing. Terrence… loses definition as he continues to lick the man's beaming face. His fur smooths into one solid colour and then he seems to… melt, for lack of a better word, into the man's body. Terrence rests his head, nose to nose, large forepaws folded over the man's shoulders. Terrence's tail wags one last time and then…
Harry's friend is gone.
Terrence, his saviour, his rock, the one good thing to come out of the commune is just... gone. Like a lot of good things in his life. Harry doesn't have time to react. The man's military entourage is suddenly surrounding him on all sides, vehicles thrown into park and doors bursting open. Men and women, armed to the teeth with impressively large weapons, pour out of the vehicles like clowns out of a clown car, seeming almost endless in numbers until they finally do. Certainly overkill for one kid and a toddler but the sight of the man unconscious on the ground without Harry lifting a finger makes everyone wary.
“Secure the perimeter!” Someone commands harshly. “Find the ones that ran!” A good portion of the soldiers group up to head in different directions. Harry can only hope the others got away.
"I'll cooperate!" Harry cries out again, putting his hands up. He can only hope they aren’t depraved enough for hurt a child. "Please-!"
Harry is blindsided by one yanking him back and another plucking the now screaming child out of his lap. "Wait!" Harry grunts as he's forced onto his stomach and his hands pulled back, "No!" Cold metal clamps around his wrists. Harry can barely keep from panicking, pulling on the restraints uselessly. His anxiety over the situation is beginning to get out of control. He can’t go back into a situation like he had been in. He can’t be taken here. He can’t let these people take him away. He might never escape, might never see Zoey again. This can’t be happening.
Dray just keeps screaming, no matter how hard the woman tries to soothe him. She obviously handles kids before but nothing she’s doing is calming the irate boy down.
"Shut that fucking kid up!" That same voice barks angrily.
"Why isn't he waking?" Harry can hear from his spot, almost tempted to tune into the conversation. He’d like to know that, too. What happened?
"I'm trying, sir! He won't calm!" She replies, beginning to sound nervous. There are a few muffled gunshots nearby, making Harry’s stomach drop into his gut. Please let that just be Biters. Please let that just be Biters.
"I don't know. You see that dog around?" Someone else replies. Harry would like to know that, too. What happened to Terrence? Why did he just suddenly... disappear like that? Why did the man react like that, too? How did they know each other, how are they connected? So many questions. Harry is getting tired of questions.
"Then fucking get rid of it!" Their Commander orders harshly, making Harry angry at the callous disregard for the child. He’s scared, of course he’s fucking crying!
"No!" Harry screams, bucking wildly as the woman holding Dray walks by. The toddler nearly dives headfirst trying to get to Harry, small arms reaching desperately with another wail. Harry begs her, "Please! Please, just give him to me! He just wants me! Please!"
"Sir?"
"Just fucking shut the fucking brat up!"
Harry is roughly pulled into a sitting position, just barely gasping in pain. Then, the woman deposits Dray into his lap. The effect is instant; the toddler's screaming cuts off and he stops crying, hiccups attacking every so often.
“Oh, thank fuck,” someone drawls.
In the background, Harry can hear someone referencing a Target Alpha Two and extraction. He knows what that means and feels fresh fear for his young charge. If it's a helicopter, Harry doesn't know if he'll be strong enough to protect Dray. He's so small and fragile, much more than Zoey.
"It's okay, Dray," Harry coos, unable to sooth the child with his arms bound. He bounces his legs as well as he can manage to see if it helps. "You gonna be my Draygon?"
Dray looks up, a hiccup shaking his frame and then nods, giving a rather good attempt at a roar he obviously wasn't feeling. Harry grins regardless, "Good boy. Thank you for being so brave."
"Sir! ETA is an hour. They had one ready to go for another mission!"
Some men tense, aiming their guns at the treeline. Biters begin to emerge, drawn by the noise generated by the company of military personal. More muffled gunshots and the encroaching threat is taken down, for now. No telling how many more Biters will be drawn by all the commotion. Especially when that helicopter finally arrives.
A man bearing medals pinned to his stiff lapels approaches, mouth and brows turned down into a perpetual scowl. The wrinkles lining his unhappy face certainly look like they are heavily carved into the skin. He stops in front of Harry, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders thrown wide. From his place on the ground, Harry feels intimidated. The man is bigger than Harry could hope to be, broad and tall, back so straight, it can be used as an ironing board. This man is used to giving orders and clearly unused to his orders not being followed. Willing to kill a kid makes the man dangerous. Harry needs to be careful.
“Boy,” the man addresses Harry with contempt lacing his tone. Harry knows better than to make a fuss about the name, simply staring up, up, up. The man smirks and crouches down, condescension dripping from every pore, “You are lucky the Brass considers you so important. If it were up to me, I’d kill you and leave your body to rot in this field.”
Harry isn’t afraid of dying. He wasn’t afraid in his old life and especially not in this one. What he does fear is what will happen to Dray should that happen. Harry still doesn’t know if the revival times vary, now isn’t the best time to test hypothesis. The toddler is counting on him. Harry can’t fail another kid. However, the prospect of being left in the field with the little boy would be the best outcome, if he were to think of everything objectively. Certainly, Dray would be traumatized but if Harry isn’t gone too long, the boy should be fine. However, thinking this way seems cold and unfeeling, risky, certainly, if Dray wanders too far from his circle of influence. He can’t seem to bring himself to commit to a plan and decides against riling the man up.
“Give me one good reason not to do that,” the Commander baits with a leer. “Would you beg for your life?”
Harry scowls, “No, I’d beg for his,” Harry motions to the quiet, minutely trembling toddler in his lap. True to his word, Dray just wanted to stay with Harry. “I’ll cooperate. Just don’t hurt him.”
A sheen of respect changes the leer into a smirk of contempt, “You’ll come to regret that. That kid is an Infected beacon. Eventually he’s gonna get eaten and when what’ll you do?”
“When he’s eaten, he’ll be fully grown and capable of figuring that out on his own,” Harry clips, trying to fight down the rising anxiety. “There’s no need to hurt him. I won’t do anything. If nothing else, believe that I won’t do anything to risk his safety.”
The man eyes the kid, giving a snort as he stands back to his full height. He towers over both of them, like some giant made of pure muscle, “Can’t decide if yer stupid or what but whatever. I can’t ignore a direct order, anyway. Sit tight, kid, get comfortable. Extraction will be here in less than an hour and you’re not getting away again.” He smirks and then barks over his shoulder, “Williams! Get those samples!”
The man leaves before Harry could even think of a retort. No matter, he was unpleasant and Harry would rather stare at a rock for an hour than talk to him again.
A woman with a black vest reading MEDIC jogs over, setting a case down as she kneels next to him, “I’m going to take some blood. Do you need to be restrained?”
Dread, thick and ominous, ices Harry’s veins near instantaneously. He forces himself to shake his head, beginning to tremble as his one cuff is unlocked to free his arm. They are taking his blood. Why are they taking his blood? He doesn’t know what it’s going to reveal about himself. Will it look different than non-magical blood? Will they be able to tell Harry isn’t supposed to be here? What do they want it for? Why wouldn’t they wait until he arrives to take the blood? The Medic, Williams, takes his limp arm and ties a rubber tourniquet around his bicep. She flicks the crook of his elbow, arousing the vein to thicken and then begins the process of drawing his blood. She fills six vials (Harry’s heart pounds, why so many? Is that normal?) and then frees the rubber. She slaps a small band-aid on it, even though it isn’t bleeding anymore and then packs her supplies – and the vials – back into her case. Harry’s arm is re-cuffed promptly.
Dray, on the other hand... he doesn't move from Harry's lap at all during the entire process, occupying himself with playing with the teen's clothes and hair. Not that there's much hair, still not having even regrown a little. Dray finds his whiskers fascinating and then after Williams leaves, starts studying the military men standing guard. Harry’s anxieties only grow. He hopes they put the samples on the helicopter. There’s a chance they won’t survive the crash intact and Harry needs that. He hates the idea of these people examining his blood. He fears the implications.
Harry manages a glimpse of the man he fought in Atlanta, still unconscious. What happened to Terrence? That question keeps nagging him in the slow drag of passing minutes. Harry is so confused. Where could the dog have gone? One moment, Terrence is here and real. The next moment, he is gone, melted into the body of the man that had been so intent on Harry. What’s the connection? He just wants to know where his friend went.
A distant wupp wupp wupp gets louder and louder. When the helicopter begins to sink down, flattening the immediate area with the powerful downdraft, Dray begins to freak out. The helicopter sets down, Harry's cuffs getting adjusted from the back to the front. Now able to properly carry and hold the toddler, Harry doesn't fight when they pick him up and set him on his feet. Instead, his heart pounds anew as they force him into the bladed vehicle, adjusting his cuffs again to tie him to the seats.
Harry settles in, face carefully blank but a maelstrom of emotions whirling inside. He’s afraid of his situation. Dray’s continued survival hangs precariously; Harry isn’t sure if his magic is enough to protect the very delicate, fragile toddler. They put the unconscious man onboard as well, laying between the seats, the two soldiers sitting down to immediately buckle up. A plain black case is handed to one of the soldiers, who sets it between them with a nod. Harry hopes those are all the blood samples.
The door closes, three thumps signifying something to the pilots. Not even a second later, Harry feels the bottom of his stomach drop as they rise into the air. Harry knows that they won't be up for long and casts his eyes about for something, anything.
Of course, there is nothing. Harry quickly loses track of time, worried about the quiet Dray and every tremor the helicopter makes. He knows time is running out but he is as lost as ever. The military men eye Harry with contempt.
The man groans, his head rolling from side to side near Harry's feet. His eyes move rapidly under the lids and something about that hits Harry hard. The teen studies the man closely, tracing his features even as unconscious mumbling starts up. Now that Harry is actually looking and not fighting for his life, the man's familiar features strike a cord deep within. Who is this man? Why does he look so familiar?
Where did Terrence go and why did the man sound so happy to find him?
Harry startles, fists clenching when the man's eyes pop wide open and he gasps in a deep breath. Something about that is also familiar. Harry can only feel mounting confusion and incredulity as the man's eyes find his, locking on with growing disbelief.
The man opens his mouth, "Harry?"
Harry's jaw drops, completely taken aback. That very same moment, the dash in front began beeping wildly, the helicopter listing to the side. Dray screams, this time not able to be swayed into calming back down. Harry doesn't try, taking the distraction of yelling, panicking military personnel to wish his cuffs off. With a barely heard click, they fall off.
Harry is quick to hold Dray as the helicopter blades suddenly fail and they begin dropping. Dray screams some more. Harry clutches him close and begins to wish-
Amidst ringing cries of may-day, Harry feels arms wrap around him-
-I wish to save-
—
There's a weight on his chest. It shakes and trembles, vibrating into his body like a staccato. Feeling trickles in.
His hearing comes back gradually. From far away and way too near, sobs can be heard. He doesn't know who is crying. Are they okay?
The smell of the air is burnt, heavy and thick with heat and fire. It stabs his nose like a thin rapier, poking tiny, stinging holes that itch and complain. What happened?
He opens his eyes, the grey of the sky greeting his blurred, dazed gaze. He blinks rapidly, each shutter clearing the haze from his eyes. The sound of grief-filled sobbing sounds close because it is; he can feel tight fists clenched in his shirt and a growing wet spot on his stomach. But-
He still hears sobbing from far away.
Harry slowly turns his head, squinting at a dark mass that slowly sharpens into a strikingly beautiful woman holding Dray close. The toddler is tucked into the woman, small hands clenched tight. Who-
"Dray…" Harry rasps weakly, his arm twitching a few inches in their direction. The woman pays them no mind and obviously the toddler doesn’t hear him.
The closer sobbing stops and a thick, hopeful voice ventures, "Harry?"
Harry turns his head back, looking up at a… very familiar man. He leans over Harry with wide, grey eyes, "You-" he laughs, sudden joy lighting his features, softening the harsh curves of the facial tattoo. He exclaims with utter happiness, "You're alive!"
Harry frowns, unable to place who this person is to him. Who is he? How does he know Harry now and not before? Harry has brief feelings of familiarity but it’s so vague, he can’t place it. "Who…?"
The man’s face drops, dark eyes searching for a long, tense moment. He seems to find something, as he smiles hopefully, "It's… me, Pup. It's Padfoot."