The Last Wolf Fae

by T M Caruana

  Sir John stowed away his expensive pen into the chest pocket of his shirt. “Let’s postpone this meeting for five years…or until after I have retired, so I don’t have to be lectured about this topic a single more time. I think I will promise to become a vegan just to save my ears from having to hear it again,” Sir John suggested, and it looked as if he was ready to leave.

  Alfred seemed to agree, mirroring Sir John’s action and Liz had no notable authority that could nail them to their seat. Before the men could stand up Anne cleared her throat.

  “I would like to add to the statistics,” Anne interrupted, making it look as if she had to contribute as the CEO of the FAO.

  Sir John and Alfred sighed loudly and leaned back in their chairs again, Liz smiled contentedly.

  Anne walked around the room in her short heels, which matched her black and white dress-suit. She was pushing her fingers into her short hair; coloured an intense red tone, apparently trying to stir up some volume into it. Either the long-winded morning had smudged off her make-up or it was never applied brightly enough to contrast with her golden shaded eyes. She looked tidy though, with her straight back and always prim and proper appearance. She had grown up as such, with her parents setting the same example throughout her life. Now Anne’s parents were dead and, as far as Liz knew, Anne had no children to carry on the family name.

  “As you don’t wish Liz to fight for the food consumption wastage cause, I will. I’m the representative of the FAO after all,” she said, demanding their attention.

  Liz was well aware that Anne was used to being heard. She had after all earned it after years of dedication, and her family’s fortune had enabled her to build many contacts within parliament who could be trusted. People who could make the other three in the room lose their job without a trace of injustice. Liz, Alfred and Sir John sat like sticks in their seats and watched Anne, as she flipped the pages in the spiral bound booklet, until she saw the heading ‘Food loss & Waste Reduction Scheme’. She folded it back into an A4 and started reading the statistics as she walked over to gaze out of the floor-to-ceiling window. The window must have looked much smaller to her now than when she used to play here as a child. It was a known fact that her father had had her waiting for long hours, many times, whilst he wrapped up his work.

  “Wastage is one third of the food we produce. That’s one point three billion tons a year. One person throws away approximately one hundred kilos of consumables per year. To obtain the consumables we squander resources such as water, land and energy. This also produces greenhouse gas emissions that contribute to global warming.”

  She had summarised the data, focusing in on the main points. Anne was known for not liking to ramble on and it was that quality that had made her career.

  “Again,” Sir John stated, “we know this. We are making every effort from the government’s perspective to install recycling centres and help your organisation to implement appropriate labelling on products. We have pamphlets raising awareness of all these issues and every year when the statistics are released, they become headlines on national news television broadcasts. We can’t punish people for throwing away food. Imagine what virus epidemics we would suffer if people started consuming food way past its use by date. We have recently had an economic crisis in the country, but that doesn’t stop people from buying and wasting food. What would you have us do?”

  Liz saw Anne look out over the city. It was late spring and therefore quite grey. The leaves were growing back on the trees and the clouds let the sun break through in small patches; just like the hole of the ozone layer would. Even though summer was approaching there wasn’t much sun in this part of south London.

  “If you were still alive five hundred years from now you would probably wish we had taken action in this meeting.”

  Liz stood up, tapping her finger assertively on the boardroom table.

  “You do like to stand up a lot when you blabber,” Alfred commented. “What’s the matter? Don’t like sitting on your dead friends?” he mocked, hinting at the leather chair.

  “Alfred!” Liz bellowed in disbelief at his statement. “That’s low even coming from you. Although, Anne you ought to have these replaced.”

  She pointed at all the chairs around the table.

  Anne nodded and grunted. Liz frowned as she noticed she didn’t receive the desired support from Anne. Liz judged that Anne likely understood the value of morals and what the leather chairs symbolised to her, but also probably didn’t want to waste unnecessary funds from the FAO’s budget. The dead were already dead after all.

  “You are all greedy cowards,” she murmured, and was about to sit down when she realised the leather and decided to stand straight again. “Have you ever loved anything or anyone so badly that you would do anything to keep them safe?” Liz asked.

  She had directed her attack at Sir John, but quickly realised she was probably barking up the wrong tree, considering he had no children and the only marriage he had ever known was to his work and to his whiskey.

  “Yes, in fact I have,” he stated, which made everyone drop their jaws.

  “And…” Liz prompted.

  “I let her marry the man she loved and I ensured that she was kept safe when he screwed up.”

  Liz saw Anne’s suffering looks directed at Sir John and understood he had made his sacrifices in life just like everyone else.

  “So tell me Liz, what would release us from that title of being cowards? You still have not told me what you would have us do so that we can establish a plan and let us get out of this bloody meeting?” Sir John asked, making it evident that he had wanted to end this meeting an hour ago.

  Liz irritably considered if his rush was to ‘lift his leg’ or to ‘piss in his territory’ by his dismissal.

  “With all this in consideration I feel that we need to initiate our national security protocol, Green Skyway,” she stated and crossed her arms to demonstrate that she was standing strong to her opinion.

  “Green Skyway! Are you insane?” bellowed Sir John. “That’s a lot of resource output and fund wastage. Not to mention how we will lose face even mentioning something so ridiculous to the United Nations.”

  “Yes, there’s clearly no grounds for that,” interjected Anne and opened up the research report to glance over the figures yet another time. “And how do you know about that project?”

  “I strongly disagree. I truly believe there will be chaos throughout all the continents of the world if we don’t act now. The supermarkets are poorly run where foods are given short expiry dates and then thrown out even though they’re perfectly good. Mountains of consumables are being disposed of for no good reason when humans in other parts of the world are starving. Furthermore, we are making the animals suffer to be able to keep up with supply. It’s neither sustainable nor ethical.”

  “The Green Skyway project has been secretly classified for years. How did you come to know about it Liz?” Sir John prompted in an echo of Anne’s request.

  “I searched the memo register when I had access to the government’s internal server, as I was doing this research, and found the outlines of the project. It was never launched, but I thought it appeared to be a good plan.”

  She saw Anne and Sir John exchanged discontented looks.

  “I agree with Liz,” Alfred said, making everyone’s heads almost turn around their necks, as they viewed him in complete silence.

  “You do?” Liz questioned, shocked.

  “Yes I do. Your statistics don’t show a pleasing picture and I certainly wish for my grandchildren’s grandchildren to survive comfortably and not curse me for not standing up for them at this meeting. Although I don’t believe the cause to be as dramatic as you portray it, and my sympathy for animals is far less, I still believe something has to be done to lead us into a better future. Besides, human flesh tastes foul even in the fittest of states.”

  “Thank you,” Liz whispered, in mild gratitude, still in disbelief both over his s
upport and the thought of how Alfred knew what humans tasted like.

  “Perhaps we can do something on a smaller scale. You two wouldn’t even begin to know the consequences nor know the details of, the Green Skyway project. I’m surprised you’ve even heard of it,” Anne muttered, and looked at Sir John accusingly.

  “I have already wasted the entire morning so I don’t mind spending the rest of the day here. Why don’t you tell me and I’ll be the judge of where my support lies,” Alfred said.

  “You aren’t authorised to know about such matters,” Anne snapped. “It’s not supported by the Blue Wolfprint Treaty. We aren’t activating its effect again and that’s the end of it.”

  “Again?” Alfred repeated, picking up on the word.

  Sir John gave Anne an angry look and she went back to the table to take a seat at its head.

  “Look, I bet you nothing will happen and humans will still be here in five hundred years’ time. Perhaps no improvements have been made, but it is certainly not as bad as the absurd picture you’re depicting.”

  From his tone, Sir John appeared to want to put a lid on the discussions.

  “Really,” Alfred grunted impatiently. “If you’re so sure, you will accept me challenging that bet.”

  “Don’t be immature,” Sir John scolded, trying to silence Alfred by playing on his age, compared to his own, even though Alfred’s status bit deeper. “What do you mean by challenging me?” he later asked, the gambling man within seemingly having spurred his curiosity.

  “I will prove it to you. I will prove that there will be chaos and even better; I will prove to you that humans will self-destruct due to the lack of food.”

  “And how could you prove that?”

  “Sir John!” Anne called to calm him down, as the discussion seemed to have got out of hand.

  “No,” he marked his authority, dismissing Anne’s advice. “I’m intrigued to know how his theory could be proven, and it will be the easiest buck I’ll ever make.”

  At this point Liz felt stunned by Alfred’s boldness and listened to the conversation without any additions or objections.

  Alfred smirked and leaned forward. “I bet you one million pounds that…”

  “What!” Anne huffed, as she rose up from her chair, although it almost looked like she was falling off it.

  Sir John held up his hand to quieten her, appearing to ponder on the statement and the sum proposed.

  “One million. That’s a lot of money, son,” he said and paused.

  “I’m good for it. Aren’t you sure of your standpoint all of a sudden?” Alfred commented in an obvious attempt to prompt an acceptance of his proposal.

  Liz opened her mouth to try and rectify the conversation, as it seemed suddenly to have run amok. Her desire to help save the world wasn’t meant to be tainted by the greed of rich people.

  “Shush,” Sir John harshly interrupted, and waved his hand in front of her mouth before she had the chance to speak.

  “You are bold, I give you that. No one has played hardball with me like this since my younger days. It makes me feel alive. Name your terms.”

  “Both alliances; you and Anne against Liz and I, will choose six people, a mix of humans and wolf-shifters, to fight our cause in a staged micro environmental competition. We will rent a fairly decent sized, fully stocked supermarket and place them in it. There will be no rules. Eventually the food will start to run out. If the people help each other to survive, by sharing the provisions in the supermarket, then it shows that humans will learn to adapt and solve the problems the world is faced with, applying kindness and charity. In this case, you and Anne win. However, if they maliciously start turning against each other by hoarding unnecessary goods, looking out only for themselves, then Liz and I win.”

  Chatter started between the girls as they tried to get the men’s attention. But Sir John and Alfred were entirely focused on their bet.

  “Seems straightforward. How long would the competition last?”

  “Until…last…death,” Alfred slowly pronounced the words so that they were heard clearly.

  All the chatter stopped. Silence passed like a wave across the room. Alfred looked around, seeming to gauge their reactions. Liz could see they had been shocked. They hadn’t taken the research report as seriously as Alfred proved to have done. The world really needed to have a plan and if this is what it took, Liz was willing to sacrifice twelve individuals for the continuance of the rest of the world. By the looks on all their faces, he may have taken it too far. I expected them to stand up without speaking to him and storm out. Eventually Sir John spoke. “This is now an addition to the Green Skyway project. We will document it as the Red Market project. I will take your bet and I will raise it to two million pounds. Neither the participants nor any media can ever know about the game…”

  “It’s not a game. It’s a survival experiment,” Alfred interjected.

  “You can call it what you will. To me it is an early retirement pay-out,” he said, also leaning forward in his seat and smirking victoriously before he carried on expanding the details. “The participants should be told it is a reality TV show from which they can withdraw at any time with a five hundred thousand pounds cash prize for the winner. If anyone asks, it never happened and we know nothing about it. The winner out of our two alliances will be proclaimed by the actions of the last person alive; If the penultimate person dies peacefully in the winner’s arms, I win, if the last man standing killed the penultimate candidate, you win. You and I will place two million pounds each in a trust, to be split a half a million each to the girls and the rest to the winner. The winner will be one million richer. All of us four will need to sign to obtain access to the funds. If anyone wishes to withdraw from the bet prematurely the funds go to the other one of us two. Seems fair?”

  Liz watched Alfred as he weighted up the conditions. It was obvious that Sir John had intended that the splitting of the funds would ensure the girls wouldn’t talk to the press.

  Sir John rose up and leaned over the table to extend his hand towards Alfred. Alfred was still hesitating. Liz though that two million pounds was probably just about what Alfred could afford, without having to sell his London flat, his house on the island, his car and probably a pair of his trousers. He looked at the smug grin on Sir John’s face. He couldn’t back out now. Sir John was a respected person who would mock him for an eternity if he didn’t follow through with what had been his own, very daring, challenge. His alpha status was on the table. If he still wanted a career after this meeting, and the respect of his pack, he had no other choice but to shake his hand.

  “Deal!” he accepted.

  3

  SARAH JOHNSON

  Firm, irritated bashes were heard on the bedroom door and Sarah’s mother stormed in before Sarah even had a chance to invite her in.

  “Are you still here? Why aren’t you in school?” she complained angrily as she stormed around the room, picking up the laundry into her blue plastic basket.

  “Why aren’t you at work?” Sarah answered dismissively, without looking up from her book, as she sat reading on her bed.

  “You don’t take that attitude with me. You know I feel ill today.”

  “You mean you feel depressed…again.”

  “I’m so looking forward to when you’ve finished school and can afford a place of your own. Then we will see how easy you find working.”

  “Can’t be worse at it than you.”

  “Get out!” Sarah’s mother shouted, and pointed for the door.

  Sarah threw herself off the bed, letting her entire body-language show her discontent. She stuffed down her favourite green cardigan, as it matched her eyes, into her backpack. She placed the book on top, zipped it shut and slid her phone into the smaller of the pockets in the front. She then grabbed her bag to hoist it up over one shoulder before she bolted out of the house. Her mother could throw her out of the house as much as she wanted, but she wouldn’t attend class. She had good en
ough grades from compulsory school not to have to attend every day. Next year she was going to apply to go to the University, that’s where the challenges started. The compulsory school was babyishly easy for her high intellect.

  She preferred to visit the University even though she wasn’t a student there yet, as it had a large grassy park area where it was peaceful to read.

  <><><>

  Sir John sat on a park bench in the grounds of the University of Economics. He was contemplating the type of individuals he needed to place in the competition. He was going to pick three and Anne the other three that they were going to need to secure a win. These had to be individuals who didn’t need much in the way of conveniences, and were educated enough to be able to remain under control. Preferably non-smokers, as the stock of the staged supermarket was never going to be refilled and he didn’t want to lose the bet due to an addict’s lack of nicotine.

  He spotted a woman seated, leaning against a tree, reading a thick book. She didn’t have a blanket to sit on nor a watch on her wrist. Her untidy shoulder-long brown hair was left free to do what it willed. She didn’t seem to care much for pleasing others, only wanting to disappear into the world of her book. That could be an excellent candidate profile. As a breeze blew by he sniffled. She was a jackal - perfect. Dooming a jackal to death wasn’t as bad as killing a fellow grey wolf. They were sly without much integrity. She would probably be easy to persuade, unless she was in a stubborn mood, which jackals often were. If that was the case, no matter of compliments would work on her.

  Sir John approached her slowly, squatting down next to her. The woman was startled out of her book and narrowed her eyes threateningly. She obviously felt the stranger had come too close – typical jackals.