The Hunt

Chapter 42: Hanna

"Hanna, you have a visitor."

I'm woken up by Mr. Anderson's voice, echoing off of the dense walls. I sit up in my uncomfortable bed, and stretch my unbelievably aching muscles.

"Are you awake Hanna?" the lock clicks and my door opens just a crack.

"What if I wasn't?" I snap. Mr. Anderson opens the door fully now, and flicks on the bright fluorescent lights. In walks Stephan, hulking over the doorway. My first visitor.

"What brings you to my wonderful prison cell this fine morning," I see the look on Mr. Anderson's face. He doesn't appreciate my never ending sarcasm.

"How're you holding up?" Stephan steps closer, and then looks back at Mr. Anderson. I give him the same look.

"You have an hour," the man shoots me a glare, and then slams the door behind him.

Stephan crosses his bulky arms and looks at me while I rearrange my sheets.

"What?" I shrug when I look up to see he's still staring at me.

"Do you have to be so bitter? The man's just doing his job," Stephan has a disapproving tone.

"It's how I get by," I mutter, "the only people in this damn place I can talk to are the loonies or that guy."

Stephan doesn't respond.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'm going to change," I straighten up and head into my bathroom, which is really just a broom closet with a toilet.

I can hear Stephan shifting around outside the door.

I pull on a pair of leggings and tug a hoodie over my head. After much begging and antagonizing, Mr. Anderson finally allowed me to keep the hoodie from my old room. It's nothing special, just gray cotton with the logo of Surga's military academy on the left breast, but it still smells like Jonas. Sometimes if I fall asleep in it, I can imagine that I'm back in my old room.

I open the door to find Stephan still standing, arms crossed, pretending to be interested in looking around at my cell.

"So why are you here Stephan?" I ask, sitting down on the bed and slipping on my tennis shoes.

"To keep you company, check in on you, see if you're really crazy like everyone says you are."

I don't acknowledge his joke.

"Besides, I have things to tell you," he adds, and I finish tying the laces.

"Good," I stand up, "Let's talk in the lunch hall."

"Don't you want to talk somewhere......private?" Stephan raises an eyebrow.

I open the door and look back to him, "You forget, Stephan. This is a mental hospital. Nobody cares."

Stephan follows me into the cafeteria, and I wave dramatically.

"Where would you like to sit?"

He looks around at the stragglers who stayed late for breakfast, and says, "As far away from anyone as possible."

I head over to the far corner of the huge room, and pick a table against the wall. "The people here aren't that bad. Sure they talk to themselves and can't even eat their own food without assistance, but they're harmless."

Stephan looks like a giant as he sits down in the small plastic chair, resting his hands on his knees. He looks uncomfortable.

I lounge back in my chair and slip my hands into the pocket of my hoodie, playing with my stone in between my fingers.

"I'm guessing, since there're no electronics in this building, that you have no idea what's going on," Stephan starts.

"They said something about putting a tv in that corner," I point.

Stephan sighs, "So you don't know anything."

"No clue. But you know what, maybe it's better that way. Who am I to worry about the petty problems of the military? I'm just a crazy war torn orphan who was a former captain, none of my business really."

Stephan gives me a heavy look, but continues, "The exiles are giving us a lot of trouble. There was another shooting-"

"Edge of the government building? I heard the gunshots of that one," I nod.

"It killed a lot of civilians. There's a whole police force guarding the main city from our military compound, because that's where these escaped exiles are allegedly coming from."

"They have to know it's not exiles that are doing the shootings. Nobody has ever escaped banishment before. It's just extremists in the city."

"The people don't trust us anymore. I'm not even sure if I trust us. Without you Hanna, things just aren't the same. Nobody knows what they're talking about anymore, you were the only one who could stop this."

"Nothing I can do about that now."

"Hanna, you know I would get you out of here if I could. If not for me, for Jonas."

"But he's dead."

Stephan flinches, as if saying that was a surprise. He leans foreward and lowers his voice, "Garik just made a new rule for our team, and all the other soldiers that deal with exiles. We're not allowed to go into the forest anymore, for the time being at least. It's a temporary rule for safety, waiting for things to calm down."

I gawk at him, "That's ridiculous! How are you going to arrest exiles that are making trouble? How are you going to keep down the rebellions by Tanek? How are you going to find Naya?!"

Stephan looks around nervously, "Quiet down! Look, I don't know what the logic is behind this, but it's gotten too dangerous in the forest. Things are changing out there. Something's happening. You were the only one who knew that."

I'm silent for a minute.

"I need to get out of here," I groan.

"Things aren't just changing outside the walls," Stephan keeps talking, "The riots in the city have gotten worse, especially around the confinement building. The people held inside are being moved out of Surga."

I sit up in my chair, "You know what that means."

Stephan nods, "Javaar."

"They took him out of the city? But he was our only lead, the only clue we had to finding Naya! I can't believe......." I clench my fists around the stone in my pocket. This is all so frustrating, I want to scream at someone.

"I know, he's gone," Stephan shakes his head.

But then I remember something, "Wait, no he's not. I saw him once when I first came here, I think they institutionalized him."

"But he's a prisoner!"

A voice says, "I know, surprised me too."

A dark skinned boy pulls up a chair loudly, and sits down, smiling at both of us, his catlike eyes glinting.

"Perfect timing. We were just talking about you," Stephan scoots away from him slightly.

Javaar notices, and laughs. He's cleaned up quite a bit since I last saw him. He's wearing a regular white t-shirt that contrasts the color of his hair, and jeans that don't fit him well. His shaggy hair is brushed and his face is clean, the scars around his face looking less substantial. He looks less like a mangy dog and more like a fifteen year old boy.

"So they didn't take you away," I murmur.

"Nope! I'm just as crazy as you apparently. Funny thing, irony......when was the last time I saw you? I was locked in the cell, and you were interrogating me, and now......we're both locked up. God, this feels good!"

"What do you want Javaar?" I try to remain calm, but the fact that he tried to kill me the last time he saw me, and that he's no longer cuffed to a table, scares me.

Javaar's eyes glint, "I want to make a deal."