“He’s in a coma,” Jak said. He didn’t remember the rest of the words the doctor had said because his step-grandmother had come in the room, and Jak had left as quickly as possible after that.
Laurie squeezed his hand again, her eyes soft. “Whatever you need, Mark and I are here.” She looked up suddenly, letting go of his hand. “Oh, the press conference,” she said pointing at the TV, the show they’d been waiting to come on. Harper pressed the thing with buttons that made the sound on the television go up. He kept forgetting words because there were so many new ones running through his mind, and some were more important to him than others.
Mark stepped in front of a microphone, looking very serious. “Today the Montana Department of Justice has been made aware of an unknown number of illegal and highly disturbing programs. These programs are being operated around the country using children who have been removed from the foster care system under false pretenses, and/or babies who are bought from mothers who are members of social programs, most especially drug or alcohol. We’re in the midst of specifically identifying who these children might be. These programs have been operating for many years. Some of the victims may currently be adults who have grown up in these programs.” He looked straight into the camera. “If you have any information regarding this crime, or if you are a person who was in a state-run program and asked to give up your child in exchange for money, or play a role for money, please contact us.” He paused and the crowd grew quiet. “If you are one of these children, please contact authorities immediately. You have been wronged, and we want you to help us put those who abused you behind bars.” He held up a photograph of Dr. Swift. “This man is a prime suspect and wanted for murder among a vast list of other crimes. If you see him or know of his whereabouts, please call the number on the screen. Do not approach him. He is armed and dangerous.”
And angry, Jak thought. But . . . more angry. Enraged. Yes. He’d bet Dr. Swift was enraged. Just like Driscoll had been when he’d found out his mother had interfered with his study. Just like his grandfather had been . . . enraged enough to kill. But he hadn’t said a word about that.
The crowd started yelling and Mark pointed to a woman in front. “Agent Gallagher, for what purpose are these children being taken? What is this program exactly?”
“They’re being placed and studied in harsh environments to determine survival skills. Perhaps trained. Each camp, for lack of a better word, may be different. But they’re most likely being set up in remote areas miles from civilization. Then they’re being sold to those who wish to use their talents.”
“Agent Gallagher,” a man near the back yelled. “How did you find out about this? What tipped you off?”
“I’m not able to discuss that at this time.” He looked to the right and nodded at someone in a uniform, turning back to the still-yelling crowd. “That’s all the questions I can take right now. We’ll update as we get more information.”
Mark stepped off the small stage and then the picture switched to two people sitting at a desk.
“Wow, Marcia, this is quite a story. Unwanted kids being trained in underground camps to be . . . what? Elite soldiers?”
The woman named Marcia shook her head. “I don’t know, Gary. It all just turns my stomach.”
Gary nodded. “Although you have to admit, the idea, if executed properly, would have huge societal benefits.”
Marcia’s mouth fell open. “You must be kidding. To achieve improvements in society, we turn to The Hunger Games? Is that it? Maybe eventually we could all get the abuse of these children in a feed straight to our mobile devices. Sounds riveting. A modern-day Roman coliseum.”
Gary looked momentarily interested in the idea, but then laughed, holding his hands up. “Whoa, whoa. I’m just voicing what others are thinking too. Now, I’m not saying the moral ramifications of the idea aren’t too extreme to actually put into practice, I’m just saying, you have to understand your enemy to fight them. Or in this case, even find them.”
“Going by your comments, I’m worried more people will want to become them rather than fight them.”
Then the two people named Marcia and Gary, who must be very important for people to want to hear all their opinions, started talking about societies who fell to ruin, and other things Jak tuned out because he was too busy sniffing Harper’s hair. She still smelled like his Harper, but also like the river. He attempted to pull her closer again, and she came halfway up his lap. She looked back at him, and he gave her a bashful smile. She laughed softly, running her hand over his jaw.
Laurie switched off the TV. “Well, that’s probably enough of that. When do you two get out of here?”
“Hopefully any minute,” Harper said.
“I’m sure you’re tired and want to sleep. But if you’re hungry, I could make dinner . . . oh, I’m sure you want to be alone.”
Between them, Harper squeezed his hand.
“Dinner with you and Mark would be good,” Jak said, meaning it.
Laurie smiled like she’d just caught the biggest fish in the river. No, no, like . . . like she was happy they wanted to be with her. “Wonderful.”
The door flung open and someone else rushed inside their room. “Rylee,” Harper said, standing up and hugging her friend.
“Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it when I heard. Are you okay?” She stood back, looking at her the same way Laurie had.
Two men came in the room and Harper smiled at them. “Hi, Jeff. Mr. Adams.”
“Harper.” They both hugged her too and then turned to Jak and Laurie. Harper told them their names and told Jak and Laurie that they were Rylee and Jeff and Mr. Adams, even though he’d just heard that they were. Introductions, he remembered the word for that from his grandfather. Good manners.
They all shook hands. Jak saw Rylee look at Harper and mouth oh my God, before she glanced at Jak and away. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t think it was good manners.
“I’d love to have you all for dinner too if you’re available,” Laurie said, and Rylee took Harper’s hand in hers.
“We’d love that.”