by Kyla Stone
The Headhunters began to pick them off. Every few minutes, gunshots shattered the night air. The men shouted to each other through the trees. She heard the retort of a rifle, the rat-a-tat of an automatic weapon.
This wasn’t hunting.
It was barbaric. It was a massacre.
It needed to stop.
She snuck up on a man with a craggy face and cinderblock head. He was leaning against an elm tree, peering through his scope at a moving shape she couldn’t make out at first.
She glimpsed one of the bonobos, Newton, perched in the lower branches of a red maple, happily tearing scarlet leaves to shreds.
For one agonizing second, she debated whether to shoot the man with the rifle or the tranq gun. He was a Headhunter. He was a bad guy.
Damien’s enigmatic face flashed through her mind. He’d helped her twice, for no reason, against every sense of his own self-preservation.
She’d killed a man already tonight. Some deep, weary part of herself couldn’t stomach doing it again. But she couldn’t simply shoot him with a tranq and allow him to wake up in four hours and continue his killing spree.
She had to do enough to stop them. A cold determination crept over her. Her breathing steadied. Her frantic heartbeat calmed. She would do this.
She would protect what she could of Haven.
She refused to let the Headhunters win.
Raven picked up the rifle, the safety already off, a round chambered, and aimed. She widened her stance, fit the stock against her shoulder, found the target in her sights. She inhaled, exhaled, squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck where she’d aimed it—in the man’s hamstring.
The Headhunter shrieked and slammed to his knees. He dropped his gun and twisting, clutching at the back of his leg, gasping from the pain.
Newton screeched in alarm. He scooted up the tree limb and leaped to another tree, scampering off into the darkness.
The Headhunter’s partner crashed through the woods toward him.
Raven slunk back between the trees. She got a safe distance from the man’s screams, then hunkered down behind a tall stump, waiting and listening for her next target.
She heard two more Headhunters stalking Kodiak, who was loudly lumbering through the underbrush, searching for berries. Before either of them got off a shot, she’d fired two bullets at close range—striking one in the calf, the other in the shoulder.
Screams mingled with the shouts now. Confusion and fear were taking hold. Good. Maybe the Headhunters were ready to give up now. To save their lives, all they had to do was leave.
A low growl sent shivers up her spine. It was close. Too close.
Several yards away, a Headhunter grunted. “Stay back now.”
Raven pressed herself against the closest trunk, then edged carefully around it. Five yards away, a Hispanic Headhunter in a brown baseball cap—Gomez—stood facing one of the timber wolves, his rifled aimed at the wolf’s head.
The wolf snarled menacingly, back arched, hackles raised. For a moment, she didn’t even recognize who it was, so alien was her ferocious snarl. It was meek, shy Suki. She faced down the Headhunter with amber eyes blazing.
“Go on now! Get!” Gomez’s hands were shaking. He fired wide, in Suki’s direction but not straight at her.
Suki skittered to the side. Raven expected her to flee, but she didn’t.
The Headhunter fired again, another wide shot. Bark splintered several feet above Suki’s head. She yelped and snarled, but still refused to run.
He wasn’t trying to hit her, Raven realized with a start. Damien had been right—they weren’t all bloodthirsty killers. This Headhunter wasn’t hunting the wolf—the wolf was attacking him.
Darkened blood matted the fur along Suki’s jaw, mingled with a sickly, yellowish saliva. It glistened from her fangs and dripped down her muzzle, staining the white hairs on her chest.
Raven stared at Suki, dread pooling in her stomach. She’d never seen saliva like that. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Wolves rarely attacked humans, nearly never. They were wary, cautious creatures. If the man had invaded her territory or gone after one of the pack’s pups, maybe.
But Suki hadn’t been backed into a corner. She could escape. But she wasn’t. She’d confronted him. Even after he’d shot at her, she was still snarling, lunging at him, teeth snapping.
“Damn it!” Gomez swore. “You’re infected.” He fired again, again purposefully missing. “Just back away now. Go!”
Raven stared at Suki’s gleaming fangs, bewildered. How could she have gotten infected? Zachariah didn’t go inside the enclosure. But her father had. Had he somehow passed the virus on to Suki?
Growling and snapping, Suki sprang at the Headhunter. He dodged, still trying to aim as she hurtled toward him, snapping, then darted away, only to fling herself at him from another angle, again and again.
Gomez cursed. There was no aggression in his face, no hatred—only rank fear. He stumbled back, his rifle flailing wildly.
Raven swung her rifle up, aiming at Gomez. She sighted him in her crosshairs. Just do it. But something made her hesitate. He wasn’t the danger here. Suki was.
Raven didn’t want to shoot either of them.
Suki lunged at the Headhunter. Eighty pounds of fury and fangs struck him in the chest. He fell back. Gomez dropped the rifle, throwing his hands up to protect his face and throat.
Snarling, Suki’s muzzle flashed in. Her jaws closed over his forearm.
Gomez howled.
Wolf and man wrestled in a death-lock. Gomez punched Suki’s face, but she wouldn’t let go. She growled as she sank her powerful jaws deep into his flesh. Raven heard the snap and crunch of pulverizing bone, muscle, tendons.
Gomez fumbled frantically for his holster at his hip, jerked out his gun, and jammed it against Suki’s chest.
Raven stood frozen, unsure what to do. She didn’t want to shoot this Headhunter. She didn’t want to shoot Suki.
If she tried to separate them, Suki would turn on Raven. The wolf was in a blind fury—enraged, infected, deadly.
Gomez pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times. Suki never even whimpered. She dropped like a sack of grain, instantly dead.
28
A gaping hole opened up deep inside Raven. No, no, no…
“Gomez!” another Headhunter shouted. “You okay?”
“I’m fine!” Gomez yelled. With a shudder, he shoved the dead wolf off himself and climbed weakly to his feet. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and slung it over his arm, hiding the bite.
Two Headhunters lumbered through the underbrush. She recognized Oman’s thick, bristling beard. He gripped a semi-automatic in both hands, the other guy aiming the flashlight at the ground to light their way. “Did it get you?”
“Nah, man,” Gomez said shakily.
Oman nudged Suki’s body with his boot. He gave a contemptuous snort. “It’s infected. You’re lucky. One bite is all it takes. Just like those damn infected dogs.”
Gomez leaned against the nearest tree. It was too dark for the other Headhunters to see the tremor in his legs, the stain of blood slowly seeping through his jacket. But Raven saw it all. “I nailed it before it even got near me.”
“Good thing,” the other Headhunter said, peering into the woods just a few feet from where Raven crouched. She held her breath. “Diaz and Cooper got shot.”
“That girl?” Gomez asked, panting.
The second Headhunter turned back to the others. “I’ll kill her myself if I find her first.”
“I’ve had enough,” Oman growled. “We’ll hunt her down when it’s light and we can see our hands in front of our faces.” He glanced at Gomez. “You coming?”
“Nah—I’ll stay out a bit longer,” Gomez said. “Found some more tracks. Gonna bag me that lynx.”
“Suit yourself,” Oman said. “I’ll take this one.” He slung Suki’s body over his shoulders and left, the other thug right behind him.
; Gomez sank down to the ground, breathing hard. Raven watched as he unwrapped his bloody jacket and examined his arm. Even in the dim moonlight, she could make out the black blood leaking from the ugly gash of jagged, ripped flesh Suki’s jaws had torn in his forearm.
A raw, guttural sob escaped Gomez’s throat.
Raven lowered her rifle. Gomez was a dead man walking. One bite is all it takes, Oman had said. Now Gomez was infected. The Hydra virus must work differently in animals, making them more aggressive, like rabies, the virus blazing inside them determined to spread itself through bites and saliva.
She still didn’t know whether she was infected, too. It had been four days. She felt no scratch in the back of her throat. She’d coughed only a few times. She felt her forehead with her free hand. Her skin was warm, but not hot. No fever had set in—yet.
If death was coming, so be it. Until then, she planned to fight like hell to survive.
Raven backed slowly away, her stomach roiling.
She was done with hunting. She was sick and tired of everything, of sickness and death and violence. Sick of the constant fear wrenching her stomach. Sick of the dried blood on her hands. Sick of the specter of grief always hot on her heels, ready to sink its claws of despair into her the moment she stopped running.
The unfairness of it all made her want to destroy something. Suki had never so much as growled at anyone in her life. She deserved to make it. She should have been one of the survivors.
The Headhunters were gathering their wounded. They’d take their people back to the lodge, attempt to staunch the blood and stitch up their wounds. She doubted they would leave for good. But she’d done what she could.
She’d given the animals a night to escape, to disappear deep into the woods, to find a way to survive. It would have to be enough.
With a resigned sigh, she checked the compass on the SmartFlex. She headed northwest, toward the cabin.
The back of her neck prickled. A sigh in the wind, a flicker in the shadows. Something made her look down.
Sunk into the dirt, surrounded by scattered leaves, was a single, perfect paw print. A pad and four toes, spanning over five inches wide.
Only one animal could make that distinctive mark.
Tiger.
29
Raven didn’t get far. Within minutes, her weariness overtook her. Her steps became sloppy, breaking twigs and bending leaves, making far more sound than she should, leaving a trail for the Headhunters to follow.
She considered switching to the hoverboard, but she was afraid that in her exhaustion, she’d fall right off. She couldn’t keep going. She had to find a safe place to rest.
She had her tarp, tent, and sleeping bag, but the thought of Vlad close by, prowling through the misty darkness made her think twice about bedding down on the ground.
Maybe a tree? Tigers could climb, but they didn’t particularly like to. It was probably her safest bet. She had a rope. She could find a large oak with a thick branch twenty-five or so feet off the ground. She could tie herself to the branch to keep from falling and breaking her neck.
She walked for several more minutes, straining to see further than a dozen feet, still afraid to switch on a light. The Headhunters had abandoned the forest—for now. The night sounds had returned: crackling branches, the hoot of an owl, the raspy song of crickets and cicadas.
She found a suitable tree and was shrugging off her pack to find the rope when she sensed something behind her.
Her heart jolted, adrenaline shooting through her veins. She remained still, outwardly calm, and turned slowly.
Luna stood beside a fallen log, white as the ghostly mist swirling around her paws.
Raven dropped to her knees. Instinctively, she bowed her head, though it made her feel a bit ridiculous. She didn’t care. Overwhelming relief flooded through her. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”
Luna’s lips pulled up, just enough to show a sliver of teeth. But she pivoted and trotted north, gliding between a gnarled pine tree and a tall thicket of thorns. Just before she slipped out of sight, she paused, looking back over her shoulder. Just like Shadow last night.
An invitation. She wanted Raven to follow her.
Raven rose, re-shouldered her pack, and obeyed. “Please don’t go far, or my feet will fall off.”
She trailed Luna for almost a mile, winding through dense thickets of mountain laurel and sumac, traipsing through copses of yellowwood, maple, and white oak trees. Luna would disappear, loping much too swiftly for Raven to keep up.
Raven stopped and waited. A few minutes later, Luna reappeared, her lips slightly pulled back, not a snarl but possibly a grimace, her expression looking for all the world like an irritated mother.
“I’m trying,” Raven grunted. Her legs ached. Her eyes burned. Exhaustion pressed down on her like the weight of the sky.
Luna led her up a steep hill, around several moss-covered boulders that reared out of the fog like monstrous beasts, setting Raven’s heart aflutter.
Luna paused again before a massive rock jutting at least fifteen feet high and twenty feet across. She ducked and slipped inside a dark crevice at its base. A cave.
A series of yips and whines echoed from inside the cave. Shadow emerged, tail wagging. He trotted right up to Raven and pushed his shoulder against her hip in what she recognized now as a sign of greeting, maybe even of affection.
“Hello to you, too.” She reached out and gently grazed the ruff of his neck. He didn’t growl or react.
Growing bolder, she dared to stroke his back. Though his guard hairs were coarse, the fur was soft underneath.
Shadow circled her, rubbing against her thighs as she petted him, nearly knocking her off her feet. He trotted to the cave entrance, ducked his head, and entered.
For a long moment, Raven stood alone in the darkness, debating what to do.
In the wild, adult wolves didn’t use dens unless they had pups, preferring to sleep outside beneath the stars. Was it possible they chose this cave for her?
Did they want her to come inside with them? Was that why they’d invited her here? If they didn’t want her, her invasion of such a tight, intimate space could trigger a defensive attack.
She had two options. Find another tree and spend an exhausted, restless night freezing cold and incredibly uncomfortable? Or accept the invitation of these strange, wild creatures and willingly enter a wolves’ den?
She chose the wolves.
Raven crept to the crevice, careful to keep her balance on the sharp, slippery edges of the rocky shelf. She removed her pack and hid it behind a smaller boulder, quickly cutting a few slender branches from a nearby pine with her knife and covering the pack completely.
She crawled into the cave.
It was dark and smelled of earth, pine, and rotting leaves. She flicked on her SmartFlex flashlight. The cave was maybe six feet across and four feet high, narrowing into a small tunnel at the back. On the far left side, Shadow and Luna lay together. Shadow licked Luna’s muzzle while she nuzzled her head against his neck.
Raven curled up on the rocky ground as far to the right as she could, giving the wolves their space while still facing the entrance. Though she was thirsty, she took only a few swallows of water from her water bottle. She needed to conserve what remained. She took a few pieces of jerky and a handful of nuts from her pack and ate tiredly.
She shivered, unable to get warm. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Still no fever. But her throat was dry and hurt when she swallowed. Was that a symptom? She couldn’t remember. She was too tired to worry about it now.
Raven flicked off the light, the rifle by her side, the knife in her hand. She wasn’t necessarily afraid of the wolves, but she was concerned another wild creature might find this cave a suitable shelter. Or a Headhunter still out there, searching for her.
She fought to keep her eyes open, determined to remain alert.
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. She breath
ed in the warm dankness of the cave, the sweetly sour scent of wolf, and watched the darkness beyond the cave entrance blur and fade.
30
Sometime in the night, Raven awoke with a start.
For an instant, she had no idea where she was, or why. Her limbs were stiff and achy, the rocky ground cold and hard.
Something huge and hot and hairy pressed up against her side. Something equally warm—and heavy—lay across her legs.
She reached out in the dark. Felt fur, heat, the rise and fall of steady breathing.
Her pulse quickened. In the dim starlight trickling from the cave entrance, she could just make out Luna’s pale shape sleeping beside her. The dark form of Shadow sprawled across her shins.
His head was down, resting on his forelegs, but his eyes were open. Keeping watch, protecting them, protecting his pack.
Emotion surged within her: a trembling astonishment, a deep, radiating awe and wonder. The world was unbearably broken, but it also held an unbearably fragile beauty.
Gradually, awe deepened to something else, something akin to a profound contentment. Even in the midst of everything. In that moment, she felt…at peace.
It was like nothing she’d felt in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
It was comfort. It was connection.
Her father had spent hours and hours by her side: deep in the forest crouched in a blind, waiting to spot a deer; shoveling bonobo dung; lugging great hunks of meat to the wolves; demonstrating how to field dress a rabbit. In all that time, he had never hugged her. Never put his hand on her shoulder in approval or tugged affectionately on her hair. He had never once said, “I love you.”
On her good days, her mom used to say, “You know he loves you.” But Raven hadn’t known. And neither had her mother, drowning in her own unhappiness and despair until it drove her to leave.