Page 30 of Freedom
Jake tapped the arrow key a few times to read the article through, forehead creasing. When he reached the end, he pushed the computer away from them and shifted uncomfortably, like when he was talking about something he thought would bother Tobias.
“What’s your question, Toby?” Jake asked. His voice was quiet, patient, not angry at all at Tobias, despite the darker tones underneath, hints of anger and sorrow, the same that emerged whenever Freak Camp came up.
Tobias hesitated, unsure why Jake thought there was a question. “It’s a hunt.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose, his lips parting as though he were about to speak, but he didn’t. He looked back at the screen, tapping on the arrows to read it through again, slower this time. When he was done, he rubbed his mouth, still looking at the screen, and Tobias realized he was clenching his own fists hard under the table, holding his breath. He forced himself to open them and exhale.
“Toby, I don’t think it’s our kind of gig.”
Tobias blinked, bewildered. Jake had said that before, mostly about monsters that would have been rated for Intensive Containment, but Tobias didn’t understand why he was ruling out this one too. Did Jake still think Tobias wasn’t ready for serious hunts? Tobias would abide by what Jake thought best, of course, but he had to ignore the spark of something as selfish and stupid as hurt that Jake still didn’t trust him. They’d trained for weeks.And this wasimportant. Tobias would stay out of it if Jake wanted him to, but Jake, or someone, should stop this ugly, bloodthirsty freak from hurting any more reals.
“Okay,” Tobias said, slowly, “but do you want—you could handle it, if you want, and I’ll st-stay in the libraries, or else maybe you could call Hunter Harper—”
“No, I mean... it says here it’s the first horror show the neighborhood’s seen, the kid had documented behavioral issues, and they’ve already got a full unit on it, detectives and the real FBI and all those blue-jacketed patsies that wouldn’t know a poltergeist if it plasma barfed all over their shoes, but... they can handle this, and they’ve got the resources. Wouldn’t be much else Roger or I could do by sticking our noses in.”
Baffled, Tobias looked back at the computer screen. “But the police—you said, they w-won’t know how to identify what type of freak it is, not unless they have a hunter on hand—”
“Toby.” Jake held his hand out until Tobias placed his hand in Jake’s and raised his gaze. “It’s not our gig. There’s nothing here that points to anything supernatural.”
Tobias stared, mouth dry. Something was wrong; some connection he’d missed, some gear broken or snapped in his brain after years of rigorous training and research. He knew the signs a monster left in its wake: dead reals, misery, horror, pain. Hedid. His life and skin had depended on it. “But,” he said, and was distantly alarmed to hear the slight tremble in his voice, “the-the w-woman and children, they w-weren’t—they were r-reals, right? J-just people?”
Jake’s hand tightened on his. He never looked away, though it looked like it hurt him to maintain his gaze. “Yeah, Toby,” he said softly. “They were just people. They were all just people. Normal people can be—we can be fucking monsters as easily as any freak. Like those sons of bitches who put their hands on you in camp. They’re supposed to be people, even though they don’t got the first goddamn idea how to be one.”
“But—” Tobias opened his other hand, reaching for the explanation that had to be right there, obvious if he only had the eyes to see it. “Butwe’rethe monsters. It’s not like the guards did anything to real people.”
Jake jerked back in his chair, almost letting go of Tobias’s hand, but he moved back at the last moment. He took a deep, deliberate breath, then spoke clearly, though with visible strain. “Okay, Toby, listen to me. This is important.” Tobias gave Jake a tight nod, his back a straight line while his heart pumped so hard he could imagine it hitting his ribs. “No one in that camp had any right to treat you that way. No one. You didn’t do anything to deserve it, and everything they did, everything you saw or experienced, that’s just as fucked up as what happened to this family. Every bit as fucked up.”
Tobias swallowed. Jake was so serious, the most Tobias had ever seen him. It was important that Tobias believe him becauseJakebelieved it, but Tobias couldn’t account for it, any way he tried to make the facts add up to a single coherent whole. Monsters and reals were antithetical beings, unable by the very order of the universe to live in harmony, one always destined for destruction at the other’s hands. Reals were the source and pinnacle of decency, beauty, and good in the world, while monsters fed off of them like a cancer and a curse. Monsters did not have the right to exist and must be restrained, beaten down, and destroyed by whatever force or means that reals could find—and they’d be lucky if those measures were enough. Those were the principles of Tobias’s life, his existence, of Freak Camp, the truths he had woken to, the pain he had slept with for as long as he could remember.
Until Jake had pulled him out of there, given him a new life ordered by new rules about what Tobias did and didn’t deserve. Because Jake didn’t count him among the monsters. He’d said it over and over, sometimes in subtly different ways, sometimes in those exact words. He said that Tobias wasn’t a freak, that Tobias was areal, as though the ASC could have made some mistake, as though Tobias’s life could have been an error that could be wiped away by the will of one Hawthorne. Tobias couldn’t believe him, couldn’t imagine that being true. And Jake didn’t know all the filthy freak things Tobias had done, didn’t know all the ways he was just another monster (more obedient, more useful, but a freak down to his bones). He might reconsider if he knew.
But in the meantime, it didn’t change Jake’s theory, didn’t change how Jake was waiting, watching him with something that looked like trepidation. So Tobias tried to nod. Jake didn’t look exactly reassured, so Tobias pressed on: “How—how do you know it wasn’t a freak? Could have been a shifter posing as their son, maybe.”
Jake shrugged one shoulder, mouth twisted. “It’s a lot of little details, I couldn’t even point them all out to you. One-time event, weapon used, damage done, stuff I couldn’t even name but I know. You know? And... this kind of thing happens, Toby. Even when it’s not monsters, people just... I wish it never happened, but it does. The cops’ll check the video for lens flare and run a handful of other tests, but unless something pings their radar... it’s just not something we should stick our noses into.”
“What if he’s an unidentified,” Tobias asked in a whisper, “like me?”
Jake’s fingers dug into Tobias’s palm, hard pressure points grounding him. “He isnothinglike you, Toby.” His vehemence made Tobias flinch. “Look, you got it right, in a way. There’s no question that this piece of shit is a monster. Just the human kind. And we can’t hunt everything that’s a monster—there’s not enough hunters, even if it were legal. So if they’re sprouting extra teeth or shedding skin, we go after them because we’ve got the skills that put those mothers down. And if they’re not, the cops and real FBI dudes go after them. But you—you don’t qualify either way, because you’renota monster, got it?”
Tobias nodded. That made sense, as far as he knew. Because he couldn’t remember what he had done to make the ASC put him in Freak Camp. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his free arm around them and tucking his head down. Jake had made perfect sense, and there was no reason Tobias should want to tuck himself beneath the creaking hotel bed and cry.
He heard Jake sigh, then the click of the laptop being shut. “Let’s leave it alone for a while, okay, kiddo?” Jake got up from the table without letting go of Tobias’s hand and rested his other palm on the back of Tobias’s neck. “Maybe we can find one of those shows about deep-sea fish or something. C’mon.”
Unfolding from his chair, Tobias let Jake lead him back to the bed (ontop, not in the dark where he belonged, where monsters belonged). Jake turned on the TV, muted it, and channel surfed absently, one hand stroking over Tobias’s shoulder, steady as the beat of his heart. Tobias tucked his face to Jake’s chest, letting the flashing colors wash over him. The rain had lulled into a quieter drum but still colored the world an even gray, keeping them safe indoors. At least, that was what Tobias let himself believe.
~*~
Later that day, whenTobias felt steadier, he reopened Jake’s laptop, determined that this time he would find the right thing, something they could do. If, as Jake said, humans could be vicious to each other, then they would at least try to stop the monsters.
He found it hours later, when the sun began to descend and the rain was at last clearing. A series of somewhat mysterious, water-related deaths near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania might not have been a guaranteed monster incident, but the way incidents increased during the dark of the moon and dropped off during the full let him be about as certain as he could be without a hunter corroborating his conclusions.
Tobias ran a quick cleanup program through Jake’s computer and deleted the web browser’s cookies and cache (carefully not looking at the sites Jake frequented that accumulated the most junk), before turning the computer silently toward Jake with various web pages open. He’d drawn from several sources this time, not just the one.
Jake studied what he’d found for a few minutes, then nodded agreement.
It was already fairly late, but they packed up and struck out on I-76. With not just a destination, but a purpose in mind, Jake pushed the Eldorado to her best speeds, until they reached an exit for the outskirts of Harrisburg that promised a diner and motel.
The waitress serving them their late-night dinner was an affable older woman, and Tobias practiced making eye contact as he smiled; it still didn’t feel any easier, not after this many months, but his efforts went unrewarded. She smiled back, but as she refilled their water glasses, she asked, “Up kinda late for a school night, aren’t you, hon?”
