Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  “Thanks, Aki.”

  “You hear me? Painful.”

  DEPARTMENT SEVEN MIGHT not have been filled with hunters, but the office was obviously busy. Nate leaned against the front counter, waiting for the receptionist to end her call. The moment she replaced the receiver, it rang again. She picked it up, giving Nate a grimace. With you in a moment, she mouthed.

  Nate looked around the reception area. Although it was early in the morning, there were a couple of people dozing in seats. A couple were dressed for clubbing. Have they been waiting overnight?

  “Hold and I’ll reroute you directly to the officer in charge.” The receptionist put down the receiver. “Hey, honey. You here for—”

  The phone rang again.

  “You’ve reached Department Seven. How can I help?” The receptionist pushed a pad of paper and a pen toward Nate.

  He wrote down “Community Service” and pushed the pad back.

  “Can you describe the nature of your complaint?” the receptionist asked. She cupped the phone to her chest and jerked her head toward the internal door. “Same room as last time.”

  “Thanks.” Nate pushed open the internal door with misgivings. A sign on the door indicated that you were only allowed past the door in the company of a Department Seven officer. Then again, people don’t exactly break into police stations as a rule. Nate took a deep breath and tried to look as if he knew where he was going.

  He found the interrogation room without difficulty. To his surprise, Charlotte and Vazul were already there.

  “Nate!” Charlotte greeted him with a wave and a smile. “You’re joining us again? What a nice surprise.”

  Vazul smirked. “Glad to see that you’re joining us in marked opposition to the current suppressive regime.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Nate said. “Gunn just said something about community service.”

  “It’s supposed to cure us of our uncooperative attitudes by fostering a sense of pride in our community, or at least the part of the community consisting of the parks.” Vazul sneered. “In reality, a morning picking up cigarette butts engenders nothing but scorn for my so-called peers—”

  Charlotte sighed. “You saying stuff like that is why we keep having to do community service.” She looked at Nate. “Kenzies dropped off some jackets and gloves for us to use. Vazul and I already have ours.”

  The jackets were high-visibility vests with “Dept. 7” emblazoned across the back. There were two pairs of gloves on the table. Nate reached for the bigger pair. They were a tight fit, but they’d do. “What’s with the extra pair? They’re not expecting your werewolf friend to show up for this?”

  “According to Kenzies, there’s one more person joining us. As soon as he shows up, we can leave.”

  As if on cue, the door opened. Ben stood there, wearing a hoodie and a pair of jeans so new they still had the shop crease. “Is this the interrogation room?”

  Nate felt a huge grin split his face. “Ben! What are you doing here?”

  “The same thing as you. Community service.”

  “No way. You?” Nate frowned. Gunn could boss Nate around all he wanted—as a supernatural, Nate came into the officer’s jurisdiction. But Ben was human.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Ben pulled on the gloves with resignation. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Right.” Nate turned to their companions. “Charlotte, Vazul, this is Ben. He’s a friend of mine.”

  Ben gave a grimace that might have been intended to be a smile. Charlotte waved hello.

  Vazul sneered. “If we wait until someone in Department Seven remembers us, we are likely to be here all morning. I suggest we leave now and make a start. Kenzies will find us.” He grabbed some of the rubbish bags on the table and stuffed them into his jeans pockets

  “You’ve done this before?” Nate asked, following Vazul’s example.

  “Numerous times. And yet, for some strange reason, it doesn’t make me any more charitably inclined to our human ‘friends.’”

  Nate glanced worriedly in Ben’s direction. “Not everyone litters.”

  “Wait and see,” Charlotte picked up a pair of tongs. “I like people, and by the end of these sessions, I’m left feeling pretty upset.”

  Ben snorted. “Nothing like cleaning up someone else’s mess to really make you feel for them. Let’s go.” He walked out of the room, leaving the others to catch up.

  THE PARK VAZUL referred to was a small square of grass not far from Department Seven. Nate was relieved. He didn’t mind telling Aki about having to do community service, but he drew the line at Aki spectating. Once the morning sun cleared the surrounding buildings, the day was pleasant. As they spread out to look for trash throughout the park, Nate hummed.

  “You cannot be enjoying this.” Vazul had a metal spike which he used to skewer soggy pieces of paper and plastic wrappers.

  Nate squirmed. “It’s a good day for this, at least. It’d suck if it was raining.”

  “It does suck,” Vazul confirmed. “Just you wait. This is hardly the last time we’ll be picking up trash together.” He moved off in pursuit of a piece of newspaper. Charlotte drifted after him, leaving Nate alone with Ben.

  Nate felt a smile crease his face. He turned aside to pick up a discarded water bottle but was conscious that Ben was studying him as he pulled his gloves on.

  “Vazul is right. You are way too cheerful.”

  Nate shrugged. “I didn’t expect to be hanging out with you this morning. Or even last night. It’s almost like we’re dating.” He bit his lip but Ben only snorted.

  “I hate to break it to you, but picking up trash in the park is a terrible date.”

  Nate frowned, extricating a soggy cigarette packet from under a bush. “You know something weird? We’ve never actually been on a date.”

  “And if you enjoy picking up trash, that might be why.” Ben stood on tiptoe to grab a plastic bag caught in the branches of a tree.

  “I’m serious. Our entire relationship has been back to front. We fucked the first time we met—”

  “Not so loudly! Charlotte and Vazul might hear.” Ben’s hand fell just short of the bag.

  “Then we got to know each other,” Nate continued. “And we’ve both met each other’s families before we’ve even been out for coffee.” He placed a hand on the trunk of the tree.

  Ben took a step back as the branch he was trying to reach suddenly lowered. He raised his eyebrows when he saw where Nate’s hand was. “That’s cheating.”

  “Not when I’m being helpful.”

  “Show-off.” Ben plucked the plastic bag out of the tree.

  “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  Ben shook his head, proceeding down the park. “I’m not encouraging this behavior.”

  Nate followed after him. “You mean me using magic, or me flirting with you?”

  Ben’s shoulders tensed. “You know why we can’t date, Nate.”

  “I don’t know. I think I did a pretty good job of sticking up for myself—and Aki—last night. That werewolf never knew what hit him.”

  Ben’s mouth curved. “That’s certainly true.”

  “So, what do you say? One entirely normal date.”

  Ben shook his head. “Sorry, Nate.”

  “At least pretend to think about it, jeez! I’d even let you pick where we go and what we do.”

  “I’ve got a lot going on right now. My application’s more complicated than I first thought.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Ben hesitated. “I need to get additional clearance. They’ve set me up with a caseworker. She’s lined me up for an interview with an expert today, and then I’m meeting her again tomorrow.”

  Nate frowned. “Isn’t that a little excessive?” He studied Ben with a frown.

  The daylight made the angles of Ben’s face appear abrupt, highlighting the shadows under his eyes. His expressive mouth wobbled, and his brows pulled together in thought. �
��It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He looked up and caught Nate’s eyes on him. He smiled. “You would not believe the amount of red tape involved in this. It’s more time-consuming than anything else. In fact, picking up trash with you might be the highlight of my day.”

  “Now who’s flirting?” Nate elbowed Ben, who retaliated by nudging Nate’s shin with his foot.

  “Do you mind? We’re supposed to be picking up rubbish, not fooling around!” Vazul called out from across the park. Reluctantly, Nate returned to work.

  The park was frequently used as a shortcut by office workers on their way to the surrounding buildings, dog walkers, a few joggers and two people that Nate just couldn’t place. They circled the park, stopping pedestrians and waking the guy stretched out on a park bench. As the two guys moved on, the man on the bench hastily grabbed his possessions and hurried out of the park. “Ben, you see those guys? What’s with them?”

  Ben paused a moment to size them up. “From the sheer amount of camouflage they’re wearing, my guess is hunters. And since we’re in New Camden and not a forest, I’m going to say supernatural hunters.”

  Nate looked again at the men. “They couldn’t be plainclothes police or something?”

  “No way those beards are regulation,” Ben said with certainty. “And you see how both of them are wearing bulky jackets that look way too big for their bodies? They’ve got a crossbow concealed under there, or an axe—some manner of weapon aimed at werewolves.”

  Charlotte shivered. “I wish you hadn’t said that. I hate thinking about hunters. Having so many of them in a city with a large supernatural population just doesn’t seem safe.”

  Vazul snorted. “It depends who you want to keep safe. The needs of the supernatural population don’t really figure in the official reports. Another example of the—”

  “Many oppressions leveled against us. I know.” Nate continued to watch the men make their way around the park. “They’re coming this way.”

  “Ignore them,” Ben said, turning back to picking up rubbish. “We’re keeping a low profile, remember?”

  Nate frowned. He’d talked over Gunn’s warning with Aki on their way home from Century. They both agreed that it was like Gunn to try to scare Nate and that he wasn’t above twisting facts. But if Ben was taking it seriously…

  They smelled the hunters before they heard them. Not content with the known werewolf protections, they’d taken the precaution of dousing themselves liberally in garlic before setting out.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” One of the hunters sneered. “Department Seven trash. How appropriate.” He was a tall young man, whose dirty-blond hair was worn in a mullet.

  His companion elbowed him. “So what are you four anyway?” He was shorter than his companion and built like a football player. His face had a sour, watchful look about it, not helped by the fact his nose had obviously been broken at some point.

  “That is none of your business,” Vazul said at once.

  Mullet stepped forward, looming over Vazul. “It’s very much our business. We got a license to investigate the supernatural—and I find your attitude very suspicious.”

  Nate straightened up, putting his rubbish bag down. He stood next to Vazul with his arms crossed, using his height to its full advantage. “We’re not under investigation. You’re looking for the werewolf, right? Do any of us look like a wolf?”

  The hunters looked at Charlotte’s pencil-thin arms, Vazul’s stout chest and Ben’s overall skinniness, before looking back at Nate. “Well—”

  “He’s not a wolf,” Ben said. “His palms aren’t hairy.”

  Charlotte was unsuccessful in muffling a snort.

  Broken Nose glared, turning his attention on Ben. “You think you know a thing or two about hunting, punk? Let us tell you something. You don’t know shit.”

  “Actually—”

  “It’s cool, Nate.” Ben went back to work. “I don’t know shit about the supernatural.”

  “Yeah,” Vazul said. “That’s why we’re all picking up trash in a park courtesy of Department Seven.”

  Mullet tapped Vazul in the chest. “I don’t like your attitude.”

  “I don’t like yours.”

  “Vazul,” Charlotte said in a warning tone.

  “You want to question us about the wolf, get on with it,” Ben said. “But we haven’t seen him, none of us know where he is, and we’ve got work to do, so if you don’t mind, we’d like to get on with it.”

  Broken Nose smirked. “By all means. Get on with your work. In fact, let us help.” He grabbed Nate’s bag, upending its contents on the grass.

  Mullet followed suit, snatching up Vazul’s bag, scattering trash everywhere. He flung the bag at Ben and jogged after his companion. Their raucous laughter drifted back.

  “I will put such a curse on you!” Charlotte yelled after them. “Creeps! Jerks! You—monsters!”

  “Deep breaths,” Vazul told her. “Do that calming thing you do.”

  Nate was not feeling calm himself. He peeled off his gloves, taking a step after the hunters. “They can’t do that.”

  Ben grabbed him by the arm. “You are not picking a fight with a bunch of hunters. Have you forgotten what happened last night?”

  “But—”

  “Ben is right,” Vazul said. “As irritating as it is to see stupidity like that go unpunished, doing so would only bring further punishment upon ourselves. Trust us.”

  Charlotte’s eyes were shut, but with an obvious effort, she relaxed her body. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Picking fights with hunters?” Nate couldn’t believe his ears.

  “The entire industry needs an overhaul,” Vazul grimly began to shovel rubbish back into his bag. “It is almost entirely unregulated—”

  “Subject to Department Seven oversight,” Ben protested.

  “And the Department is severely understaffed and underfinanced,” Vazul said. “Unable to properly regulate hunting. At the same time hunting tends to attract totally unprincipled people. It’s a powder keg of disastrous proportions.”

  Nate thought of George. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.” He looked to Ben, helping Vazul scoop up the trash. “What do you think?”

  “Hunting is one of those gray areas,” Ben said slowly. “They must be licensed to hunt, and that involves an interview and background check. If they break any laws, they’re subject to prosecution—”

  “Assuming the victim is a human.” Vazul skewered a chip packet with surprising violence. “Don’t get me started on the double-standard there.”

  Nate looked across the park, but the two hunters had moved on. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Not that the hunters are alone in being intrusive.” Ben nodded his head toward the park gate. “You see that guy there?”

  Nate transferred his gaze to the man, a youngish man wearing a baseball cap and jacket. “Yeah.”

  “Werewolf.”

  Nate shot Ben a startled look, but he was retrieving Nate’s rubbish bag as if he’d merely remarked on the weather. “Him? No way.”

  Vazul narrowed his eyes at the distant figure. “What makes you certain?”

  “He scented the air a moment ago. You know how wolves do? And he moved his position to avoid being downwind of those two hunters.”

  Nate knelt to help Ben shovel trash back into his bag. “What’s he doing? Do you think he’s spying on us?”

  Ben nodded. “I hate to say it, but it makes sense. After last night, Wisner’s probably got an eye on both of us.”

  “On all of us,” Vazul corrected. “And it wouldn’t be the first time either.”

  Charlotte sighed. “I really wish he wouldn’t do it. It’s such an unpleasant feeling, knowing you’re being watched.”

  “That’s probably why he does it. Intimidation tactics.” Vazul glared at the werewolf. “Wisner’s getting more and more out of line.”

  “Councilor Wisner?” Nate frowned. “If he’s a co
uncilor, how is he allowed to get away with this?”

  “Because he’s a councilor.” Charlotte paused to scoop her hair out of her face. “He justifies it on the grounds that his werewolves are keeping the city safe, using their success in hunting the rogue werewolf as an example. My guess is that he plans to replace Department Seven with his own private werewolf militia.”

  “But he hasn’t found the rogue werewolf.”

  Vazul grinned. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

  Ben shook his head. “If the rogue werewolf hadn’t run away, Wisner wouldn’t have an excuse to put his wolves out on the streets so blatantly. There would be no cause for the media panic, no justification for Wisner’s actions.”

  “Just FYI, Ben.” Charlotte scowled. “Victim blaming is seriously uncool.”

  Nate looked at her in surprise. Charlotte was the last person he’d expect to snap at someone. “You think the werewolf is the victim here?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Grant is a great guy.”

  Ben cocked an eyebrow. “You know him?”

  “He used to be a member of the counseling group before I joined,” Nate explained.

  “Right.” Ben hesitated. “I didn’t realize.”

  “The media don’t have the full story.” Charlotte said quickly. Her cheeks were flushed. “You think Wisner’s overbearing as a councilor. Imagine having him as a stepdad, living with him…”

  Nate winced. “Sounds horrible.”

  “Agreed. But even then, there’s a process for wolves to follow to emancipate themselves from a pack. It’s well-established.” Ben nodded.

  Charlotte clenched her fists. “Maybe he wasn’t given a choice. Maybe—”

  Vazul waved a can at her. “Char, is aluminum recyclable or not?”

  Charlotte was jarred out of her rant. “Recyclable, of course.”

  “And if they’re squashed? Does that make a difference?”

  “Let me see.” Charlotte moved over to Vazul.

  Nate caught Ben’s frown. “We haven’t looked for trash over there yet,” he said, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder and steering him toward a cluster of trees. “Let’s go.” He waited until they were out of hearing distance of Charlotte and Vazul. “Something on your mind?”