Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I freeze.

It's Clayton.

"What are you doing?" I ask, really hoping he doesn't try anything, or I'm going to have to scream. "He told us to stay far apart."

"I just wanted to talk to you," he says, slowly coming closer. "Figure out what's really going on."

He steps forward, but I put my hand out. "Stay right there."

Thankfully, he listens.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, scratching at a spot below his ear.

"Yes." Shit, my heart is racing. I hate confrontation like this.

"Why?"

"Because you're an asshole," I tell him bluntly. "At least you are to me."

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "We're more alike than you think."

"What does that mean? No, we're not. You don't know me."

"I know more about you than you think."

I glare at him, calling his bluff.

He gives me a sinister smile. "Neither of us should be here."

I swallow at that. My stomach twists uneasily.

He doesn't know about my lost scholarship, does he?

"You know it," he goes on. "I think it's cruel that you're here at all. That any of us are."

"Cruel?"

"Don't you wonder why they have us doing surveys and foraging? It's all bullshit. It's all busywork. They'll never let us actually see what they're working on. It's all a ruse, all a way to make the foundation look accessible and honest when it's not. We were chosen for a reason. Do you really think you're some sort of genius because they accepted you here? I shouldn't have gotten in at all. My grades were never good enough."

I blink slowly, trying to understand what he's saying. "Well, my grades were good enough," I assure him, raising my chin slightly.

"Right. They must have been. Since you're so special."

"Stop saying that. I put in the work. I deserve to be here."

"They think you're special," he says. "That's not a good thing, Sydney."

I look at him a little closer. His eyes are bloodshot, his fingers twitching slightly. "Clayton, look, I don't know what you're going on about. I really don't. If you want to call me special, fine. But if I am, then we're all special. And whether this is busywork, I don't know. We all have different reasons for being here. They can't exactly cater the curriculum to everyone."

Suddenly, he comes closer, stopping a couple of feet away. Too close. I back up, but my back hits the slimy rock wall. "Don't you see, Sydney?" he says, his eyes wild, his voice raw. "They're lying to you. They're lying to all of us. And we all go along with it because we want to be someone so badly. That's how they get us. Our need. Our want. To be seen and heard. But they don't care. They don't see us like that. They see us as something to be used and disregarded until there's nothing left of us."

"Okay, you're freaking me the fuck out now," I say, putting my hands out. "Please go and leave me alone, or I will scream. I swear it."

He exhales, visibly trying to control himself, but his face crumples, tears in his eyes. "I went to a fortune teller a month ago. She said I'd never leave this place."

Okay, that's it.

I start walking fast, away from Clayton, looking over my shoulder while trying not to bump into the trees. He stands there watching me until he eventually turns around and goes back the way he came.

Meanwhile, I've ended up in a little pocket of bushes and rocky outcrops covered in moss and tiny maidenhair ferns, the trees clearing a space. I stop, not wanting to go any further, and let out a long breath. I still feel a little shaky from that interaction, even more so because he wasn't making much sense. Is he on drugs? He must be on drugs. His eyes were red, and he was acting erratic and twitchy, much different than the insolent douchebag from the first day. Perhaps this place is getting to him. The isolation must be taking its toll.

Kincaid had said one student always goes home. Maybe Amani won't be the only one this year.

I decide to wait a few moments before I head back, making sure there's no chance of running into Clayton again.

Until something catches my eye.

Up ahead on the rocky ground is what I first think is a fallen branch, lying across the moss.

But…

It's not.

It's a leg.

An animal's leg.

Oh god , I think, my fingers clenching at my chest.

It looks like a…paw.

A dog?

Against my better judgment, I creep forward. I don't want to see what it is, but at the same time, what if it's alive and hurt and I can help?

I peer around a salal bush and gasp.

It's a fucking wolf .

Not just any wolf, but a dead wolf, half of its body rotted away. Sinew stretches over the bones like pink gum, fluffs of fur sticking out in places. Underneath a couple of exposed ribs, I can see the heart, bright white and…fuzzy.

Nausea rolls through me. My hand covers my mouth, trying to keep from vomiting. The more I look at the wolf's lifeless, decomposing body, the more disturbed I become. Thin white strands loop around the exposed skin and muscle, looking like tendons at first, but then I realize that's not what they are at all.

It looks like…mycelia. Like fungi have sprouted up from inside the wolf, which isn't strange at this stage of decomposition, and yet…

The fuzzy white heart twitches inside the rib cage.

No.

I freeze. Blood fills my ears until it sounds like a hammer.

I stare at the unmoving heart, wondering if some unseen maggots are writhing underneath, making it move. It seems too large for its body, and as I keep staring, I realize the white fuzz is hyphae, each tiny white hair moving together, like seagrass in a current.

The heart pulses again.

Once.

Twice.

It's beating .

The wolf's legs twitch, causing fur to shed.

I stare in horror. Lead in my veins. I can't move, can't breathe, can't think.

The wolf opens its mouth, a long exhale that makes its chest expand, its ribs cracking . A black tongue slips out between its teeth, growing longer and longer and?—

It raises its head and looks at me with one milky eye and one empty socket.

Release me , the wolf hisses.

Then it lunges at me.

I scream.

I scream so loud that my whole body shakes and my vision blurs and I stumble backward, the wolf's rotting jaw snapping at me, a tooth catching the edge of my raised arm as I try in vain to protect myself.

I fall backward onto the moss, still screaming, my head banging against a rock.

But the wolf stops.

I struggle to sit up, expecting to see it face-to-face, to stare into that one milky eye, for its teeth to gnaw my nose off.

Instead, it's slinking off into the bushes in retreat, and then it's gone.

"What the fuck, what the fuck," I cry out. I look down at my arm. There's a long red mark, but it didn't break skin.

"Sydney!" I hear Kincaid's voice from behind me, echoing through the trees. "Sydney!"

"I'm here," I say, trying to shout, but my voice cracks.

What the fuck just happened?

I hear rustling in the brush, and I twist around, expecting to see the wolf coming at me from behind, but instead, it's Kincaid, bursting through the underbrush.

"Are you alright? What happened?" he asks, his voice strained with panic. He runs right over to me and crouches down. Then he reaches out and cups my face in his hands, so strong, so warm, brushing the hair off my forehead in a gesture that is so intimate and tender that it disarms me even further.

"I don't know," I whisper, conscious of how close our faces are, of how his winter eyes are vivid with concern. "There was a wolf."

His pupils dilate. "A wolf?"

He looks behind him, and I raise my arm to show him the red mark, which has already faded to pink. "It tried to bite me, but it didn't break the skin."

He runs his finger over the mark, a soft touch. "A wolf," he repeats. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I hit my head on the rock."

He gently runs his hand over the back of my head, and I wince. "There's a bump, but you should be alright," he says. "Still, we need to get you back, have Everly look you over. Then we need to find this wolf. The sea wolves here have never attacked anyone. They're shy creatures. It could be rabid."

"It wasn't rabid. It was dead," I say.

He stares at me as if he didn't hear what I said.

"What happened?!" Rav yells.

I turn to see him and Patrick at the edge of the clearing.

"She had a fall," Kincaid says. "Nothing to worry about. The moss can be slippery."

He grabs my elbows, ready to pull me up, and I give him an incredulous look. Why isn't he telling them the truth?

His eyes narrow slightly as he tugs me to my feet.

A warning to keep my mouth shut.

"We should head back now, make sure she's alright," Kincaid says to the others, putting a hand at my lower back and guiding me forward.

"Shit. Sydney, you sounded like you were being murdered," Rav says as I pass him.

I give him a faint smile. I want nothing more than to tell him I saw an undead wolf, but I'm realizing that might make me seem crazy. Even a normal wolf might be enough to worry and panic the others.

Still, I don't feel good about keeping it inside, and I know I'll have to talk to Kincaid about it later.

We're halfway through the forest when I realize something.

The only person who didn't come running was Clayton.

"It's bruising, but it didn't break the skin," Everly says calmly as she handles my arm, cleaning it with solution. "Still, I think I'll have to give you a tetanus and rabies shot just in case. Then a series of shots over the next couple of weeks."

"Do you have to?" I ask.

I'm sitting in the nurse's room, which is beside reception in the main lodge. The room is only accessed through reception, which meant a lot of Michelle fussing over me as they led me in here.

Kincaid is here with Everly, leaning back against the door with his arms crossed, as if he's barricading it. His expression is serious, his brows lowered, creating shadows over his eyes, his mouth firm.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Everly says, giving me a sympathetic smile. "It sounds like the wolf was rabid, and we can't take that chance. Rabies is fatal once the signs show, and the last thing we need here is…well, that ."

The wolf wasn't just rabid, it was dead! I'm screaming inside to tell her the truth. But I don't want Everly to think I'm losing my mind, even though I know what I saw. Kincaid is already looking at me like I need to be in a psych ward.

She walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out a few syringes. I can't look, turning my attention to the posters on the wall, one of which reads Do You Know the Signs of Mushroom Poisoning?

"Can you roll up your sleeve?" she asks.

The arms of my sweater are fairly tight. "No."

"Please remove it, then."

"I'm not wearing anything underneath."

"That's fine," Everly says patiently.

I look over at Kincaid as if to say, but he's standing right there.

But he doesn't look away, doesn't protest and say it's inappropriate like I thought he would.

I meet Everly's eyes again, and she smiles faintly. "We're all adults here, Syd. It's nothing we haven't seen before."

I gulp. I suppose she's right. At least I'm wearing a bra, albeit a cheap black one from Target.

I pull my sweater off over my head, feeling utterly self-conscious. I can feel Kincaid's gaze burning my skin, visceral and real, and I don't have to look at him to know that he's staring at my breasts.

I swallow hard, feeling both on display and vulnerable yet desired at the same time, and I force myself to close my eyes as Everly wipes my upper arm with a sanitizing pad.

"This shouldn't hurt much," she says.

I wince as the needle breaks the skin, grinding my teeth together. I hate that I have such a low pain tolerance.

"One down," she says. "One more to go. Just breathe."

I get through the second shot, and when I open my eyes, Kincaid is still staring at me. His nostrils are flaring slightly, but his forehead is lined with concern.

"All done," Everly says, sticking two circular Band-Aids on. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

It was awful , I think, in ways I can't really explain.

I give her a stiff smile. "No."

"And how is your head? Still no dizziness?"

"No more than normal."

Her thin brows come together, a deep line forming. She definitely doesn't have Botox. "You're normally dizzy?" She glances over at Kincaid with a sharp look, as if this is somehow his fault.

"Yeah," I tell her. "But it's probably because I don't eat enough."

"Right," she says slowly. "Hopefully, your appetite will return. All this exercise and fresh air, plus the food here is so good. Did you know our cook, Andrew, used to work at a Michelin-star restaurant? Only the best for the Madrona Foundation." She gives me a prideful smile. "The best minds need the best nutrients."

She straightens up. "I think we're done here. You can put your sweater back on. And please let me know if you experience any memory loss, confusion, strange headaches, things of that nature."

I quickly put my sweater back on and stand up, adjusting it.

"Thank you," I say to her, but I stare down Kincaid as I leave the room, trying to send him a message with my eyes.

I need to talk to you.

I leave the room, dashing through reception so Michelle doesn't bog me down with her blathering (the woman always seems on the verge of hysterics), and then step out into the common room.

Lauren, Munawar, and Rav are sitting on the couch, getting to their feet when they see me.

"Are you okay?" Lauren cries out as she hurries over to me. "Rav told me what happened."

He didn't tell you everything , I think. Because none of you know everything.

After the wolf encounter, Kincaid sped us back to the lodge as quickly as he could. He didn't even slow down around the otters, though they didn't seem to care. We got back before Nick's team did, and he quickly ushered me in to see Everly.

"I'm fine," I assure them, lying through my teeth. How the fuck can I be fine after all that?

I hear the door close behind me and see Kincaid step out of reception.

"Dr. Kincaid," I say, trying to sound as professional as possible. "Is it possible I could talk to you. In your office?"

He swallows. "Of course," he says, striding over to the lodge door and holding it open. "After you, Ms. Denik."

I give the others another reassuring look before I step outside.

It's a wall of grey, so misty now that the air is wet with it, almost drizzling. I follow Kincaid toward the north dorm, neither of us speaking. In the distance, I can hear the goats bleating on the farm section and the sound of an ATV. A raven close by makes a hoarse clicking sound before it swoops down in front of us, nearly touching the top of Kincaid's head before it lands in a cedar on the other side of the path.

"That's Poe," Kincaid says. "He's one of our resident corvids."

"Original name," I remark. "Don't tell me he's tame."

"He can be when he wants to," he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. "But he doesn't belong to anyone but the forest. He's good luck to have around."

"I always heard that ravens were omens."

"They are," he says, opening the door to the north dorm. "But it's up to the beholder to decide what kind of omen it is."

The image of the dead wolf, its furry white beating heart, slams into my brain, along with Clayton's words.

I saw a fortune teller. She told me I was going to die here.

No, wait. That's not what he said. He said, She told me I would never leave this place.

Already, I can't seem to trust my memory.

We go down the dark hall, and he leads me into his office. I notice he keeps it unlocked.

"Take a seat," he says, going over to the window and pulling at the blinds enough that it dims the room. I'm reminded of my dream and have to force my brain to push the images away. I concentrate on him turning on his camera and then lighting a candle on his desk with a silver Zippo engraved with something. He slips it into his pocket before I can get a better look, the air filling with the scent of santal and musk.

"Do you have to film this?" I ask, sitting down in the leather chair. "This isn't another counseling session."

"I don't know what this will be," he says, taking his seat across from me and folding his hands on the desk. "And yes, I do have to film it."

"What do you even do with the videos? Watch them?"

"Yes," he says simply.

I shift in my seat, hit with a strange sense of desire. "Why?"

"Because you fascinate me, Syd," he says. "And I'm your doctor. I'm trying to…make you better."

I hope I'm not blushing. "Why do I fascinate you?"

"Many reasons. One of which is why I suppose you wanted to talk to me. You think a dead wolf attacked you."

"I don't think, I know! It was dead," I tell him adamantly. " Was being the operative word."

"Tell me what happened, from the beginning," he says, taking out a pad of paper and a pen.

"Well, first, I had to deal with Clayton, who followed me through the woods."

His gaze snaps to mine. "He did what?" His tone is incredibly sharp.

"He followed me…" I say uneasily. The change in Kincaid is palpable, like he's turned into a predator.

"Did he touch you?" he grinds out.

"No! No, nothing like that. He was just trying to make me uncomfortable. Telling me weird shit."

His expression hardens. "Like what?"

"It's hard to explain. He wasn't making much sense. He kept saying that I was special, but he, like, had no basis for it, and yet the idea angered him. And that neither of us deserved to be here. That this place was…cruel."

He inhales sharply through his nose. "Cruel? In what way?"

"I guess because we're all just doing busywork, and we'll never be shown what work you actually do in the lab. Like Madrona is just leading us on and making us think we're important when we're not."

Kincaid runs his tongue over his teeth while he sits back in his chair. "That simply isn't true. You have lab with Janet, I mean Dr. Wu, first thing in the morning."

"I'm not agreeing with him."

His lips twitch with amusement. "But you do, Syd. I can see that clear as day. Don't worry. You'll be integrated soon enough into the workflow. I'm sure the lab can use a mind as brilliant as yours."

I scoff. "Certainly doesn't feel brilliant. I feel dumber by the day."

"That will pass," he says. "Once you're in the lab, I'm sure you'll come alive. You'll see what we're doing firsthand. The advancements we've made even over the last week will astound you. It won't be long until…"

"Until what?"

He blinks, a somber look. "Until the next phase." He swallows hard. "Well, I'll be sure to give Clayton a talk."

"No," I say quickly, leaning forward in my chair. "No, please. It's fine. I'm an adult. I can handle him."

"He's distracting you. But you're right. I'm sorry. I can get…protective at times."

I recall the way he held my face when I'd fallen, something like madness in his eyes.

"Anyway, I hope this talk has been helpful," he says, moving in his chair like he's about to get up.

"What? No. What about the wolf?"

He hesitates, then settles back down. "Ah. Yes. The wolf. Tell me about the wolf."

I can't help but glare at him. He's being so dismissive, like it's all in my head. So I tell him what happened, all the details, making sure I sound as measured and rational as I can.

"I know it's not possible, but that's what I saw." I end my story, my tone firm.

"I see," he says carefully, scribbling in his book again. "And what did the fruiting bodies look like?"

"I didn't see any. It looked like it was just mycelia."

"Looked like, but you can't be sure?"

I let out a caustic laugh. "Sorry, I was too busy trying not to die to get a closer look."

He stares at me patiently. I would kill to know what he's thinking, what he's written down in his notepad. I bet I wouldn't like any of it.

"The forest can play tricks on us," he finally says, and I grit my teeth in response because of course he's going to say that. "You were obviously emotionally upset from your interaction with Clayton. You haven't been eating right or sleeping right, and you haven't taken your medication that keeps your emotions in check. I have no doubt you came across an injured and dying wolf. You probably surprised it, hence why it both attacked you and quickly ran away. We'll send a drone out later to the area and see what we can find. If I had to guess, I'd say the wolf won't be bothering anyone anymore."

I can't help but glare at him. "Fine," I grumble, getting out of my chair.

He swiftly gets out of his and steps around the desk, reaching out and grabbing my arm before I have a chance to leave.

"Don't make me worry about you," he says, his voice gruff, his grip hard.

I glance at his hand, and he slowly removes it.

"Don't make me worry either," I tell him.

I leave.