Page 27 of After the Fall

Wyatt’s hand shot to his temple and he massaged the right side of his forehead, as if in pain. But sasquatches didn’t feel pain the same way humans did. My brow furrowed as I went over possible scenarios in my mind. Was he getting a migraine? Did sasquatches even get headaches?

“S-s-sorry,” the man groaned as his body flexed against the chains that bound him to the recliner. “I-it’s hard t-to control my… b-body.” He sighed heavily, and I could feel the exhaustion in him, like he was ready to give up; ready to leave his fate in the hands of the three men looming large before him. He mumbled something inaudible.

“Louder,” Wyatt growled.

“I-I don’t r-remember much. It’s all… m-murky. In my head. I’m s-s-sorry.”

“Do you remember your name?”

“Jim,” the man whispered as a fat tear slipped down his cheek. “I think it’s J-J-Jim. And I think I’m married to someone called N-Nancy. Please,” he moaned. “I-I think I have kids. They must be w-worried. Been so… long.”

My heart broke at the mention of kids. I longed to give the man, Jim, something more comforting than the blanket, which was soaked. I wanted him to know that someone cared, even if the scary men interrogating him didn’t. Seeing the man tied up, stuttering on his words, triggered memories of my father tied up in Wyatt’s living room. While my father’s appearance had been… well, horrifying, Jim appeared more normal and human-like. If it wasn’t for Connor’s hybrid comment, I wouldn’t have suspected he was anything other than a frail man who’d gotten lost in the woods.

Savannah grabbed my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. My heart swelled with gratitude for my best friend as we faced the horror unfolding before our eyes.

Atticus spoke low. “Want me to ask Tank if the serum is ready?”

Wyatt nodded.

As Atticus left the theater, he tripped on his discarded beer can. He gave the can a swift kick. It clattered across the floor, coming to a stop by my feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

I’d never seen one of them stumble before and had to hold in a laugh, relieved to feel something other than terror, even if just for a moment.

The room thrummed with anticipation as we waited for Atticus to return, a nervous silence settling around us. After a few minutes, he reappeared with Tank, who clasped a small glass vial.

I gasped, and the entire room turned to stare at me. Tank scowled, rolling his eyes.

“Please,” I begged. “Don’t take away his memory. He’s already lost so much.”

“Harper,” Wyatt said gently, though I could hear a tinge of annoyance hidden beneath my name. “This is a different serum – one that will help him remember, not take away. It doesn’t work on humans, so we’ll know soon enough if Connor is right.”

Connor sniffed the room, his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “I’m positive he’s not human. At least not fully.”

Wyatt nodded to Tank, who smirked at me as he handed Wyatt the serum. I narrowed my eyes and muttered a quiet “Jerk,” as he sauntered past me on the way back to his post outside the basement stairs.

Savannah nudged me. “Nice one, Davis,” she teased.

Wyatt gripped the serum so hard, his hand shook. “Listen, Jim. There’s two ways we can do this. Either you take thiswillingly, or I force it down your throat.” His voice softened. “It will help you find the answers you’re missing. The answers we need.”

The man forced his lips shut and shook his head vehemently. “Mm-mm,” he said through closed lips, tears streaming down his face.

It was clear that something traumatizing had happened to this man.

“Very well.” Wyatt turned to Savannah and me. “Ladies, you might want to look away.” Then he turned to Atticus. “You know what to do.”

It happened so fast. Atticus stood behind the man and held his head still as Wyatt forced the contents of the vial through the man’s lips. Connor stood nearby, observing, his hand resting on the waistband of his jeans where I assumed he had some kind of weapon hidden.

Screeching in pain, the man tried to shake his head back and forth, but Atticus continued to hold him tight. His biceps bulged as he tried to stop the man from busting through his chains.

Time stopped. It felt like an hour had passed, when in reality it was probably seconds. The man slunk lower in the recliner, his heavy breathing echoing off the padded walls of the theater in a slow, steady tempo.

“It’s working,” Atticus said, releasing him to step back.

Tears began gushing down the man’s face. “I remember everything,” he moaned, his head sinking down. “Genocorp. They did this to me.”

Genocorp. There it was, the thing we’d all feared. Everything kept coming back to the Carders. I inched closer to the man, wanting to hear every word. Savannah followed, refusing to let go of my hand like a protectant mother.

“What did Genocorp do?” Wyatt rubbed his temple as he spoke.

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