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Kristina
We pull up alongside a dilapidated, timeworn barn, which has obviously seen much better days. Half of the roof is missing, along with the doors, and what wood remains on the original structure is rotting away, little by little.
“We’re supposed to wait it out here until nightfall?” I murmur in disbelief as I turn the ignition off and reach for the handle.
“It’s hardly a shelter,” Tiger says next to me.
After a quick stop at a Denny’s for breakfast and a bathroom break that morning, we embarked on another three hours of miserable road trip, in an attempt to keep Gerard and his goons at a safe distance.
It was during breakfast I realized something very important. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on me how much in a tight spot we were in, but I’ve been thinking clearly since then. Instead of moping over my situation and regretting what I did do, I should concentrate on what needs to be done.
Gerard isn’t going to leave us alone. Not when I can easily expose him and his illegal activities. And he’s not going to let Tiger go. So I have to fight fire with fire. If I can help Tiger get to his destination, I might be able to shake Gerard off and maybe return to my normal, mundane life, once his empire of horror falls—if Tiger achieves whatever he has set out to do.
It’s not much, but it’s a start.
That’s if I don’t get myself killed first. If he finds us before we can make it to our final destination it’ll all be over, but I’m ready to fight. I have no choice.
“Tiger, where is it you’re headed to?” I divert my gaze to my unorthodox companion.
“Davenport, Iowa.” Tiger unbuckles his seatbelt. “There is a man by the name of Nyall I have to meet. He can help bring Gerard down, if I can persuade him to get involved.”
I should have guessed Tiger wasn’t just running away. Of course he’d go seek help from someone capable of posing a real threat to someone like Gerard Radcliffe.
“How many people...or creatures...have escaped from the Institute?”
“The man Rose mentioned, and myself. There could have been more. As alert as I was, when it came to keeping up to date with information regarding the Institute, some things might have escaped my notice.”
“How long has the Radcliffe Institute been in operation?”
“The Institute has been up and running for over sixty years now, but Gerard has been experimenting far longer.”
“How old is he?”
“I’m not sure. Castiel seems to think he is over a hundred and fifty.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “How is that even possible? The man looks no older than twenty-seven.”
“Gerard, in his thirst for uncovering the secrets behind immortality, has managed to use the most successful side of his discoveries to prolong not only his life but his youth.”
“But how has he flown under everyone’s radar for years? He hasn’t been in the spotlight for long, but if anyone cared to look, I’m sure they’d be able to find records, and maybe even pictures of him, dating all the way to the 1800s.”
Tiger gives a quick nod, as if he was expecting me to ask this at some point. “Castiel mentioned the eye is an easy thing to fool and in order to succeed in misleading several generations of people he associated with, Gerard often employed lookalikes to pass as his family members to cover up his long trail.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You mean all those great men we often hear about...Gerard’s great-grandfather, grandfather, father and so on, weren’t related to him at all?”
“No. Gerard was orphaned at an early age and was later adopted by a humble couple with no children of their own. Castiel told me Gerard disappeared after migrating to France sometime in 1865. No one heard from him for a long time, his parents presumed him dead, and passed away never knowing whether something had happened to him or not. Some forty-odd years later, a man with similar physical characteristics as Gerard appeared, stating he was Gerard’s son. Castiel is uncertain the man spoke the truth, but according to him, there are several documented photos of the Radcliffe lineage, who went by the name Whitman in the earlier years. None of which are Gerard, but men who bore an uncanny resemblance to him. Only a very selective few knew the truth, and many of those haven’t survived to reveal it.”
“Did he have any children?”
Tiger’s hands ball into fists, a dark shadow crosses his face. “Two sons, but what became of them is still a mystery no one has been able to solve. Gerard was married for a time, but as with everyone that crosses his path, she disappeared one day, too. I wouldn’t put it past him if his family ended up as vessels to experiment on at some point. If there’s one thing I’ve grown to come to terms with, it’s that Gerard cares for no one but himself.”
It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Gerard’s family ended up as such. “So he’s been covering up his tracks practically from the beginning.”
“I’m sure he knew ahead of time he had to be careful to avoid detection.”
Of course. He couldn’t have gotten this far if he hadn’t.
“Still, it’s bizarre how he’s kept at it for so long,” I point out.
“He has some sort of vendetta against those like me.”
“But he created you?” I argue. It doesn’t make any sense. The man uses those he hates to live off of, but he creates a being twice as valuable as the ones he already has? This man sounds like the biggest douchebag I’ve ever heard of.
“Yes, but we have a purpose to fulfill. Gerard never does anything without a definite basis behind it.”
Sounds like an egocentric person, all right. “When you say others like you, do you mean other immortal beings?”
He nods. “They are similar, but different.”
I peek to my right, where the farmhouse is located. Although the barn hasn’t fared well over time, the house itself is in relatively good condition. The shutters, which appear to have been green at some point, are all nailed shut to protect the windows. A wooden board covers the main entrance. The stairs leading up to the wraparound porch are blocked by debris, making them inaccessible. It looks like someone dragged pieces of heavy, wooden furniture to the staircase and left them there to rot for years.
With the exception of the lawn, the rest of the property pretty much screams of abandonment. I find it peculiar that the grass has been cut recently. Does this mean someone has been here? Should I expect them to stop by soon? I certainly hope not.
“Let’s check things out,” I suggest as I open the door.
Tiger follows me out into the front yard. “This place is similar to your home.”
Strolling up to the blocked staircase, I glance around and realize he’s right. The resemblance is uncanny. There are some differences, though. The main one lies with the structure itself. This house, though smaller and older, appears to have had its own beautiful country charm at one point.
“You don’t think...” I let my voice trail off, a bit puzzled as to what I’m seeing. Up here, the house is to the right and the barn to the left, whereas at home, the layout of the property is the opposite. “Could this be?”
Curiosity getting the best of me, I wander past the barn and deeper into the woods. A sudden sense of déjà vu hits me the second I enter the tree line. I feel as if though I’ve been here before.
“Where are you headed?” Tiger asks behind me.
“This place looks so familiar.” I tramp over a fallen log and continue forward. “I have the strangest feeling I’ve walked down this path before.” Though it’s barely a trail anymore. The weather and the constant traffic of wildlife has altered what was once a clear pathway.
As if being led by a memory of the past I can’t quite recall the details of, I stumble upon a broken-down, barely standing treehouse.
“This is Grandma Rose’s childhood home.” The structure stands about ten feet off the ground, but looks like it hasn’t been interacted with in a long time. “So this is where our history with Gerard Radcliffe began.”
“This is the place Rose described?”
“I think I came here with my mom and dad.” It was such a long time ago, I can’t remember when, but I distinctively recall Mom, Dad, Steven, and me looking around the property.
Tiger steps in next to me. “That is a treehouse, then.”
“More or less,” I reply. I take a moment to explain the basics of a treehouse. When he dips his head, I assume he’s understood so I touch his arm and say, “We should get going. We have to come up with a plan.”
“What should we do?” he asks as we head toward Grandma’s truck.
“Well, Grandma said to wait it out until nightfall, but I don’t think a trip downtown will hurt. I was hoping we could get a motel room and get cleaned up. We could look around for a place to grab a bite to eat, too. It’s been a while since breakfast and I’m hungry. Besides, being closer to town will also give us a chance to find out sooner when the last bus to our next stop leaves.”
He follows me out of the woods and to Grandma’s SUV before asking, “Traveling at night is the best option?”
“By my way of thinking, if we’re on the move when they stop to rest we might be able to stay one step ahead.” I’m tempted to go exploring Rose’s childhood home, but it doesn’t look safe enough for me to risk my neck. Or Tiger’s.
“Sounds reasonable.” Tiger walks to the other side of the SUV and opens the door.
“First things first, though. We should hide Grandma’s truck as she instructed.” I point over my left shoulder to the barn behind me. “We can hitchhike to town and figure out the rest from there.”
We park Grandma’s SUV near the side of the barn, cover it with an old tarp we find behind the structure, and use long branches with plenty of leaves to camouflage it. Once the task is complete, we hurry to the main road and follow the map to town.
So far I can tell we’re in Missoula, Montana, but I know nothing of this town or what it has to offer. It has been years since I took a vacation and a part of me feels the need to go exploring, but since this isn’t a trip meant for pleasure, I have no choice but to stick to our plan. Generally speaking, it’s not much of a plan, per se, but it’s all I got so far.
I’ve never run away from home, so I try to work things out as I go. Grandma Rose had no time to give me really useful pointers so the only thing I can rely on is my gut instinct.
“How far is it to town?” Tiger asks as we walk down an isolated road where traffic is almost nonexistent.
“About three miles.” I’m hoping we can get to town in time to figure out where to eat and what cheap motel will be the safest to spend a couple of hours before hitting the road again. Grandma warned me not to stay in one place for too long so I’m kind of paranoid about that now.
“Where do you plan to go first?”
“I’m dying for a bath, so finding a motel is my priority.”
Tiger’s caramel eyes fall on me. “Are you still angry?”
I continue to stare ahead to avoid looking at him. “Sometimes I’m angry. Sometimes I’m scared. It’s the uncertain that’s troubling to me.”
He walks with a self-confident gait, as if he has nothing to fear.
“I’m not fond of the unknown, either.” He hooks the thumb of his right hand under the strap of the bag Grandma left in the truck, and shoves the strap up his shoulder, never once breaking his stride. “I want to be free of Gerard, but I’m conflicted over your involvement.”
“There isn’t any point in regretting what has brought us to this point. I say we keep pushing boundaries.” I hold my duffel bag close to me and sigh. “If we fail to fix things, we’ll never have a life.” Or he won’t. I won’t ever be able to go to my old one.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says, words holding a hint of promise in them.
I open my mouth to respond when I’m interrupted by a car honking its louder-than-life horn. It sounds more like a train than a car, which freaks me the hell out. My pulse kicks into full gear, and my heart feels like it’s running a marathon all on its own.
Startled, I move off the road to stand beside a large pine tree. Tiger positions himself in front of me, blocking the view of the driver pulling up alongside us.
“Hello, there,” a slightly accented voice calls from within a small, 1990s four-door Buick Century Station Wagon. “Where are you two headed?”
I peek around Tiger’s left arm, and come eye to eye with an older version of Granddad, with a more prominent receding hairline.
“If you’re not going far, I can offer you a lift,” he says with a southern drawl.
Grandma always warned against hitching a ride with strangers, but she also advised against picking up hitchhikers, which I did, and that didn’t turn out too well for us. I get no strange vibes from the man, but I’m not such a great judge of character myself so I could be wrong.
“Should we?” I have my reservations, but then again, I’m not alone. Tiger possesses superhuman strength and has lightning-quick reflexes. If it comes down to protection I can count on him to provide it.
Tiger glances at me over his right shoulder. “I sense no deception from him.”
“You can sense when someone is lying?” I ask in astonishment.
“It’s a helpful trick.” He doesn’t seem particularly proud of this feat, though.
“Wow,” I murmur. Maybe Tiger is useful not only for his skills and stamina, but in other areas, too. “Hi.” I wave at the older man who is now adjusting a pair of large glasses up his hawk-like nose. “Um, actually, we’re headed to town.”
He nods toward the road. “Hop in. I’ll give you a lift.”
“Sure,” I tell the man. Touching Tiger’s arm, I say, “Come on.”
My silent companion follows me to the station wagon.
“You sit in the front.” I point to the passenger-side door with one finger. “I’ll be in the back.”
The frail-looking older gentleman drives off in the same direction we were headed as soon as we’re settled in the station wagon. From my seat, I see Tiger’s shoulders tense. He holds himself stiff, as if afraid to move any one way.
It’s easy to see he has issues with people. He’s always nervous around others. As of late, he doesn’t seem all that uncomfortable around me anymore. Maybe it’s because I know his secret or because we’ve come to an understanding of some sort. Neither of us has spoken the words out loud, but both are aware that as long we help each other we might pull through this.
When it comes down to it, neither of us has a choice. Either we stick together and work as a team, or we risk getting caught by the same sadistic, poor excuse for a human being that calls himself Gerard Radcliffe.
“So, are you hitchhikers?” the man asks Tiger.
“Yes, we are,” I reply quickly when Tiger fails to respond. “We’re backpacking to Florida.”
“You sure are far away,” the man comments as he leans forward in the seat to squint out the windshield. The way he keeps slanting his eyes puts me on edge. Should he even be driving? What if he crashes into oncoming traffic? One accident per year is my limit and I’ve already experienced my share of mishaps so far.
“Well, my brother and I are meeting up with family members down south,” I lie through my teeth.
“Family reunion?”
“Something like that,” I say, glancing out the window.
“So, you’re just passing through?” The old man’s attempt at keeping the casual conversation going helps me relax. He’s friendly, polite, and reminds me of my grandfather. Nothing about his demeanor raises red flags for me.
“Actually, we were hoping to maybe stay a night or two. You wouldn’t happen to know of any good motels around here?”
The man bobs his head up and down enthusiastically. “As a matter of fact, I do. There are a few places. It really depends on what you’re looking for. If you want a nice, secluded place, there’s a motel about ten miles west of downtown. Now, there’s also a little bed and breakfast down south you’d probably like.”
“Something comfortable and clean will do.” I take a moment to look at Tiger and see his shoulders have relaxed a bit. I wonder what’s going through his head. Even though I try not to think too much about him in general, sometimes I can’t help but wonder what he thinks or what he’s truly feeling, how much of our current predicament bothers him. He seems at ease, except for when we’re around other people.
My eyes stray to his handsome face. He, in turn, scrutinizes me through the side mirror. Our gazes meet and lock for a moment. Unwilling though I am to admit how intriguing and appealing he may seem every now and again, there’s no denying how my heart fluctuates every time we see eye to eye.
I shake my head. I can’t think of him in any way other than an unorthodox team member.
“What about convenience stores?” I ask, forcing myself to tear away from Tiger’s attractive features.
“The B and B is within walking distance of a convenient store and gas station. There’s also a small shopping outlet right across the street, if you’re interested.”
“Yes, please. The bed and breakfast seems like the best bet.”
The older man nods. “The B and B it is.” He side glances in Tiger’s direction and says, “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
Tiger tenses all over again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
The older man’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Polite, you are.”
“Uh, Steven is kind of shy,” I interject, hoping to keep the man from asking Tiger any questions.
“I can see that.” An amused chortle escapes the senior’s mouth. “A lot of people around here are shy when it comes to strangers. It’s customary to be polite, but quiet.”
If only I had applied that lesson when I’d accidentally bumped into Tiger, maybe I wouldn’t be living this nightmare.
“I’m the talkative one in the family,” I blurt out.
Tiger’s eyes stray to me once more. I gape at him and smile.
“Or am I wrong?”
For the first time since we met, his lips curve up into what I can only call the most alluring gesture I’ve ever seen on a guy. He hardly ever reflects any emotion and when he does, it’s usually masked by a stoic, vacant demeanor, which may be as a result of his rough upbringing. But now, I’m left utterly speechless by his broad smile.
I’m blown away, captivated by just how much the corners of his eyes crinkle and his normally expressionless face takes on a more boyish look. It’s natural, not forced, and I like it a little too much.
“You speak enough for the both of us,” Tiger adds with a grin.
I can’t even look away, I’m so taken aback.
The old man chuckles softly. “I’m reminded of my older sister all of a sudden. That one could talk anyone straight to his or her grave. I tell ya, she was one woman who loved to carry on and on.”
The look of concentration on Tiger’s face sends my pulse into a race. I don’t understand why, nor do I want to own up to how it affects me. It’s not something I’m prepared to sort through in any case.
“How far is the B and B?” I lower my gaze to my lap, unable to continue rubbernecking any longer.
“We’re about five minutes away.”
This five-minute drive to our destination is going to be the longest of my entire life.