Merc snaps his fingers to get my attention. “Get to the fucking point. I don’t need a history lesson.”
“History lesson? Is that what you think this is? You think, what, Adam is some… stupid leftover? He’s not. He’s not doing any of the shit I’m talking about here because he’s not evil. Not like that, anyway. But he knows about it. They breed them, Merc. There is no way to stop it. They need them. All of them. All ages, all races, both sexes.”
“Need them for what?” Harrison says.
I actually laugh. “Organs.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Harrison says. “That’s all bullshit. There is no underground organ trade. There are no Russians drugging people in Vegas and removing their kidneys while they sleep.”
“You’re right,” I say. “That’s not how it’s done. I just told you how it’s done. Small towns in the USA and Europe for the premium stock. But there are thousands of villages all over the world where the same thing is happening, minus the secrecy.”
Harrison huffs and looks over at Merc. “Are you falling for this shit? I mean, I don’t know where he’s going with it, but—”
Merc’s low, solemn voice cuts him off. “It’s not bullshit.”
“What?” Harrison is in complete denial. “Come on—”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Where?”
Merc looks at me and something inside him deflates. “Do you know what I was doing? Before the girls, I mean. Before Sydney?”
“PSYOPS,” I say.
“Sure. Yeah. But it was more than that.” He looks over at Harrison. “I was on a team. We hunted…” His eyes dart over and meet mine. “The runaways. They weren’t… for harvest.”
“Harvest?” Harrison is gonna lose his shit. We might need to knock him out if he wigs.
“Harrison,” I say. “Shut up. Listen to what we’re telling you.” I look over at Merc. “You shouldn’t have brought him here.”
Harrison takes a step towards me and then with two flat hands to my chest he pushes me back. “Don’t talk like I’m not here. Just because I need a minute to grasp the idea that an entire population of people exist for something called a harvest doesn’t mean I’m a dumbass.”
“Fine.” I put up my hands in surrender. “Then I’ll stop fucking around and get to the point.” I look at Merc. “You have no idea what’s really going on in this world. Adam keeps the whole thing manageable. He hunts them down now.”
Merc’s eyebrow shoots up. “Them?”
“Not you. Well, if were still working for those assholes, he would kill you. But you’re not important, Merc. Not in his mind. He’s looking for stragglers. He’s looking for those dealership owners. Those small-town bankers. That’s who he’s after. The ones who didn’t get the ‘cure.’” I do air quotes for that word because it was never meant to be a cure at all. And that’s why I’m fucking here in the first place. That’s why Wendy is in Merc’s clutches right now. And I’m so tired of that goddamn word, I wish I never had to speak it out loud again.
“The cure?” Harrison asks. “The cure for what?”
“It’s not important,” I say. “It wasn’t a cure.”
Merc sighs. “I’m still failing to see any points here.”
“Wrong,” I say. “You had a point. You said they weren’t for harvest. The people you were hunting. Who were they?”
Merc takes a moment to wipe a fresh trail of blood away from his left eye. “The mothers. The ones who ran.” He looks at Harrison. “People like Sasha’s mom. Harper’s mom. The upper elite women who thought they’d be able to make that choice—”
“The promise or death,” I say for him.
“Yeah. Most of them,” Merc continues, “they just gave up. The way you describe the lower class in the Company towns.”
“The druggies,” I say. “The drunks and the criminals.”
“Right,” Merc agrees. “Most of the mothers were like that too. They gave up long before they started having babies.” He looks back to Harrison. “When these elite women give birth, and they have a girl, they either send them right back into the Company as assassins, like Sydney, who are used, and abused, and sent on missions—”
“Like Sasha?” Harrison asks.
“No,” Merc and I say at the same time.
“Not like her,” I say. “Her mother took the other choice. Which is self-sacrifice. Her mother died minutes after she gave birth so that Sasha could be free—like Harper. So she could grow up to be someone’s promise.”
Merc’s voice goes low. “Married off to another elite. Most of the time a very old man who wants one more chance at a boy.”
“What the fuck?” Harrison says. “Why do the mothers have to die? I don’t get it.”
“So they can harvest them,” I say.
“For what? Hearts and shit?”
“Whatever is needed. Skin. Eyes. Organs. Fucking toes. All of it. But more importantly, they have to die so they can keep the masses in check with fear. The Company controls people with fear.”
Merc sighs. “And it works.”
“Like a fucking charm,” I agree.
Harrison makes a face. “That’s sick.”
Whatever. “This is the world we live in, Harrison.”
“The world you live in. Not me.”
“Newsflash, buddy. We run the world you live in. We let you exist here. But make no mistake. I don’t care how many jets you own, you step one inch over that line, Harrison, they will kill you without even blinking.”
“This Adam guy, you mean?”
“No, Merc. Fuck’s sake, man. Aren’t you listening to me? Not Adam. He’s cleaning up, remember?”
“Then who are you talking about?” Merc is annoyed. And I don’t blame him. If he was selling me this line of shit, I’d be annoyed too.
But I don’t answer him right away. I have to be really careful what I say here. Everything depends on how I handle the next couple minutes. One wrong move and everything goes sideways.
Merc gets impatient. “Who? Tell me now.”
“Well, this answer is gonna complicate things a bit.”
“Why’s that?” Harrison asks.
“Because.” I look straight at Merc. “That guy—Donovan? Rather, his dominant personality, Carter?”
“Oh, fuck this.” Merc’s not dumb. He doesn’t need this shit spelled out for him. “Fuck this. I’m not doing it.” He grabs Harrison’s arm and tugs him towards the door. “Let’s go home.”
“Listen,” I say loudly. Merc and Harrison both pause in front of the door. But neither of them looks back at me. “You can walk out. That’s fine. But Donovan is worth saving. He is, Merc.”
Merc looks over his shoulder at me. “Why’s that?”
“Because he’s…” I pause, having trouble forcing the words out.
“He’s what?” Merc does turn now. “Spit it out, Nick. Or I’m leaving.”