Savage (Apex Predator Book 2)

by David Meyer

  “How’s your leg?” Caplan whispered.

  Elliott gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

  “Let’s go,” Teo said.

  They slid past the bushes and hiked into the street. Looking past Elliott and Teo, Caplan saw the ox behemoth lift its back right leg. Its hoof came crashing down on top of a car. A horn blared weakly into the night.

  The behemoth’s head spun toward the sound. In the process, it caught sight of them.

  Its lava-orange eyes swirled. Its thick hair bristled in the cold wind as its body twisted around. Bellowing, it raced down Broadway.

  Awe and horrid unease filled Caplan’s gut. Steeling his emotions, he helped Teo haul Elliott to the garage. Darkness fell over them them as they slid between two lines of abandoned cars and hurried down a steep ramp.

  The behemoth shoved its nose into the garage. The walls shook and dust shot into the darkness. A sudden gust of wind slammed into Caplan’s group, knocking them over. As they coughed and hacked, a fierce bellow filled the air.

  Mills ran out to help Teo. The Pylors grabbed hold of Elliott. Meanwhile, Ross pulled Caplan to his feet. Assaulted by bellows and snorts, they made their way down the ramp.

  They hung a right and hurried down more ramps. Cars were everywhere. Most were neatly parked in spaces. Others had been abandoned in the driving lanes.

  The ox behemoth’s wails and bellows grew faint. The building fell still and the dust settled to the ground. Slowly, Caplan’s awe and unease melted away.

  Stepping off the last ramp, he saw dozens of people perched on car hoods or sitting on the ground. A few cried. The rest wore dazed, vacant expressions.

  He counted heads and came up with just seventy-seven people. That meant seventeen members of their little group were dead or missing. And out of the known survivors, at least half had sustained fairly serious wounds.

  The Pylors took Elliott to a makeshift clinic set up by Dr. Sandy. Teo cleared her lungs, then joined her. Meanwhile, Caplan and Mills joined Toland in an empty parking space. Leaning against the back wall, Caplan exhaled, watching his breath form little clouds in front of his face.

  Noses sniffled. More people began to sob. Rotating his head, Caplan saw a couple of Danter residents gather around the pale, still form of Luann Cordell.

  Cordell had once ruled Danter Library with an iron fist. He could still recall the time he’d returned his copy of Atonement two days late. She’d glared at him through those thin, lightweight spectacles of hers. Then she’d given him the tongue-lashing of a lifetime.

  He’d never cared for her. She was a mean-spirited woman, the sort who’d sneer at a little kid for no good reason. But he still got choked up when Ross stooped down to shut her eyelids for the last time.

  “That’s eighteen.” George exhaled. “Eighteen dead men, women, and children.”

  Ross stood up. His face was splotchy and sweaty. “They’re missing. But they might not be dead.”

  “Where’s Mike?” Aquila asked.

  “Mike Tuffel?” George looked around. “I don’t see him. He must be one of the dead. Oh, excuse me. I mean missing.”

  Dr. Sandy cleaned Elliott’s wound. Then she wrapped it in a gauze bandage. “Those things …” She glanced at Caplan. “Were those the archaics you told us about?”

  He nodded.

  She fought to control her voice. “And you say there are more of them where we’re going?”

  He nodded again. “Two-hundred and fifty-six are being released at midnight. Another three thousand or so are waiting in the wings.”

  “I think I’ve had my fill of archaics.” Aquila glanced at Ross. “No offense, but I’m skipping this little trip of yours.”

  A few people nodded. Murmurs of assent rang out.

  “Hang on, Connie,” Ross replied. “We need to calm down, think rationally. We’ve got to keep our heads.”

  George snarled. “It’s pretty hard to keep our heads when archaics are trying to rip them off.”

  Ross raised his palms in a conciliatory gesture. “I know emotions are running high right now. But if we can just sit down and—”

  “And what? Talk about our feelings? Say a prayer?” He shook his head. “We lost eighteen people to just seven archaics. That doesn’t bode well for our future.”

  More people nodded. The murmurs gained volume.

  “Listen to me,” Ross said.

  But no one listened.

  “I say we go with Connie.” George gave his wife a look.” “What do you think?”

  “I agree,” she replied. “We can take one of these cars and head south. At least we’ll be warm.”

  “Maybe for now.” Caplan cleared his throat. “But what happens when Chenoa comes for you?”

  “I like you, Zach,” George said. “Always have. I’m trying real hard not to blame you for all of this. So, do me a favor and keep your nose out of our business.”

  “I’ll tell you what’ll happen,” he said. “If you resist, she’ll capture you. One way or another, you’ll be carted back to Savage Station. You’ll be turned into an archaic and all traces of your identity will be removed. You’ll spend the rest of your life thirsting after blood, with no memory of Sandy or anyone else.”

  George’s face twisted with uncertainty.

  Caplan turned toward the crowd. “I know you’re scared. And I know you’re pissed-off. But you can’t hide from this. Sooner or later, James is going to find you.”

  The nods stopped. The murmurs ceased.

  “Our only hope is to take the fight to him,” he continued. “To conquer Savage Station.”

  Dr. Sandy shook her head. “We don’t have the manpower or guns to beat Chenoa’s soldiers.”

  “Then we’ll use our brains.” Caplan scanned the many faces before him. He knew them all so well. “The first wave of archaics is currently resting. Come midnight, they’ll be taken to various non-populated areas. Chenoa’s soldiers will most likely handle the transport. And their absence will leave Savage vulnerable to attack.”

  “What if Chenoa sees us coming?”

  “Hopefully, she thinks we’re dead. Regardless, we’ll stick to side roads whenever possible.” He paused. “I know this seems like a long shot. But it’s got a big payoff. If we capture Savage, we won’t have to worry about behemoths anymore. We won’t have to worry about anything.”

  A few heads started to nod again. The murmurs began to support Caplan’s side.

  “What if we have to fight behemoths on our way there?” Aquila asked. “The infrasound weapon could be destroyed for all we know.”

  “It was destroyed.” Gasps rang out, but Caplan pushed right through them. “And we won’t be able to replace it anytime soon. Fortunately, there should be fewer behemoths now that we’re out of Boston.”

  A full minute passed. Then Dr. Sandy glanced at her husband. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s right,” George said. “About everything.”

  Aquila sighed. “So, when do we leave?”

  “Soon. We need to get to Savage by midnight.” Caplan looked around at the crowd. “But for now, I need half of you to stay here. Help the wounded. Then check out the cars and see if any of them still work. Search for gas and other supplies, too. The rest of you come with me. We’re going to look for survivors.”

  The crowd split into two groups as he strode toward the ramp. Ross joined him and together, they ascended the incline. Shoes and boots scuffed against wet concrete as people followed after them.

  “That was one hell of a speech,” Ross said quietly.

  Caplan gave him a pointed look. “It should’ve come from their leader.”

  “I think it did.”

  Chapter 50

  Date: December 2, 2017, 4:51 a.m.; Location: Kendall Square, Cambridge, MA

  The pavement trembled and Caplan froze, ready to sprint back to the garage. Another tremble, just a bit softer, streaked through the ground one second later. He took a deep breath. His body relaxed. Clearly, the
behemoth was still heading away from the garage.

  His head on a swivel, he crept past Third and continued down Broadway. He passed a bank and then walked through a maze of broken picnic tables, all chained together.

  Soft moans filled his ears and he stopped outside a small shop. A stiff awning above the doorway indicated it had once been called Jeel’s Coffee Bar, Home of the Incredi-Latte.

  Back in the old world, a tough sheet of tempered glass, along with a tempered glass door, had blocked off the interior. But rioters had broken the glass long ago, most likely in an effort to reach the cash register.

  Rubbing his hands for warmth, Caplan thought back to the early days of the apocalypse. At first, looters had focused on the usual assortment of luxury goods. Televisions, video game consoles, designer shoes, and the like. But as the true scope of the situation became apparent, they’d switched their attention to more basic necessities. Food, water, fuel, camping gear, and sturdy boots, among other things.

  He’d kept his friends alive for four solid months without looting. But when things got tough, he’d been forced to check his morals at the door. Of course, it helped that he saw it more as salvaging than looting. After all, he was stealing from the dead. And could the dead really own anything?

  Withdrawing his axes, he poked his head into the open doorway. “Who’s there?”

  “Zach?” The voice was faint, halting.

  “The one and only.” He stepped nimbly over ice and glass and walked behind the countertop. Tuffel lay stretched out on the ground in a pool of dry blood. Although pale, he looked awake and alert.

  Caplan performed a quick physical and found some deep scrapes on the man’s legs as well as a bullet hole in his left shoulder.

  “Just my luck,” Tuffel groused. “Another few inches to the left and I’d be fine.”

  “True. But another few inches to the right and you’d be dead.”

  “Your bedside manor stinks.”

  “So, does your wound.” He clamped his nostrils shut. “Can you walk?”

  Tuffel shook his head. Caplan helped him up and took him back to the garage. He turned the man over to Dr. Sandy, then strode back out to the street.

  The sun had yet to rise, but its rays were starting to streak across the landscape. He looked for the ox behemoth, but all he saw were buildings. The tremors, meanwhile, grew fainter.

  Mills rounded the corner with Victoria Fisher propped up on her shoulder. Caplan ran out to help her and together, they hauled the yoga instructor to the garage.

  Ross greeted them just inside the entranceway. “Hey Victoria,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  She gave him a pained smile. “Alive.”

  “You’re one of the lucky three.”

  “How many more are still question marks?” Caplan asked.

  “None.” Ross sighed. “We found them all. Fourteen dead bodies. Three survivors.”

  Mills grimaced. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.” Ross’ face twisted with a mixture of sadness and relief. “Still, it’s more than we had an hour ago.”

  Chapter 51

  Date: December 2, 2017, 1:27 p.m.; Location: Nashua, NH

  Energy surged within Caplan as he directed the battered, old SUV over the Massachusetts border. “Welcome to New Hampshire,” he said.

  “Already?” Stifling a yawn, Toland pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “But it’s only been five hours.”

  Caplan ignored his sarcasm. Indeed, it had taken them five hours to travel just over forty miles. On the other hand, they’d traveled forty miles. Forty miles away from behemoth-infested Boston. Forty miles closer to the Vallerio. And of course, forty miles closer to Savage Station.

  All in all, things were looking up. They numbered almost eighty people. They’d procured two-dozen vehicles and plenty of fuel from the garage. And they’d located a decent amount of water along with plenty of canned and packaged food, too.

  To top it off, it had been a fairly smooth ride. They’d been forced to clear a couple of obstacles as well as circle around three or four behemoths. But they had yet to experience any real trouble.

  Even so, a thick layer of tension hung over the SUV. Caplan could see it in Mills’ eyes, in Toland’s fidgeting. He saw it in Elliott’s drowsiness and in Teo’s bitten fingernails. They knew what he knew. Namely, that this corridor between Boston and Savage was merely the eye of the hurricane. Very soon, they’d leave the eye behind and reenter the storm. And this time, the storm might very well kill them.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. Teo sat in the left-side seat, her back at an angle. Elliott, currently napping, was draped over her like a blanket. He wondered about them, if they were just friends or something more. He’d spotted a few stolen glimpses that suggested the latter. On the other hand, his stress was off the charts and he was running on very little sleep. So, maybe it was just his imagination.

  “Noel must really hate you,” Toland said.

  Slowing the SUV, Caplan drove around a fallen highway sign. “What makes you say that?”

  “He was in charge of this motley bunch. Then you came along and stole that away from him.”

  “I didn’t ask to be leader.”

  “No, you didn’t. You just did your whole boss-everyone-around-until-they-become-sheep routine.”

  Mills rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

  He spun around to face her. “I’m just telling it like it is.”

  “No, you’re just trying to stir up trouble.”

  “I just want to rescue Amanda and take over Savage Station,” Caplan said. “Once those things are done, someone else can take the reins.”

  He snorted. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  “Whoever’s in charge is going to face a tough decision. Do we continue kidnapping people and forcing them to become archaics? Or do we let the Holocene extinction run rampant?” He gave Toland a sideways glance. “Do you want to make that choice?”

  Toland muttered something under his breath and turned away. Meanwhile, Mills shot Caplan a shocked look in the rearview mirror. Her lips moved silently. You did it, she mouthed. You actually shut him up.

  He grinned.

  Yes. Things were definitely looking up, alright.

  Chapter 52

  Date: December 2, 2017, 4:03 p.m.; Location: Ashland, NH

  Mighty forests had once bound this particular section of I-93 for as far as the eye could see. But now, the trees lay dead and dying, their withered branches covered in ice. It hurt Caplan just to look at them, to see nature in this awful state of despair.

  Exhaling, he turned his gaze to the sky. He looked for drones or helicopters or any other type of aircraft. Anything that might indicate Corbotch’s presence. Fortunately, the skies remained clear.

  Mills pointed at the windshield. “There’s something in the road.”

  A fierce gust of wind sent broken branches and snow into his field of vision. He squinted at the road. A yawn escaped his mouth. Unfortunately, his earlier surge of energy was long gone. Sheer exhaustion had taken its place.

  Up ahead, he noticed a couple of long objects—trees—sitting across the road. His cheeks burned with annoyance. Oh, goodie, he thought. Another obstacle.

  He parked the SUV about ten feet from the trees. Opening his door, he stepped outside. A bitter wind quickly iced down his burning cheeks.

  He walked around to the back and lifted the cargo door. Inside, he saw Morgan’s duffel bag along with a number of supplies salvaged from the parking garage.

  He rooted through the items, eventually locating a long-sleeve knit shirt and a pair of work gloves. He pulled the shirt over his other shirt and donned the gloves. The extra clothing helped a bit. But he still shivered as he shut the cargo door.

  The fleet of vehicles pulled to a halt. People piled outside. They donned jackets and gloves and then joined Caplan at the fallen trees.

  “I wish I had an axe.” Tuffel kicked the skinniest of the three trees, a
forty-foot long quaking aspen measuring about a foot in diameter.

  Caplan fingered the axes hanging from his belt. Unfortunately, they were far too small for a job like this one.

  “We don’t need axes.” Ross came forward with a handful of chains. “This is a tow job, pure and simple.”

  Caplan studied the chains, then nodded. “Set it up.”

  Ross started to untangle the links. Meanwhile, Mills walked to the side of the road. Kneeling down, she studied one of the trunks. “It’s all chewed up down here,” she observed.

  “That looks like beaver work.” Caplan’s face turned puzzled as he peered over her shoulder. “Which doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  “Why not?”

  “Beavers usually fell trees near water. They use them to build dams.”

  “There’s not a lot to eat these days. So, maybe this beaver was just hungry.” She frowned. “Beavers eat trees, right?”

  “Sometimes. But not mature, dead ones. They prefer to snack on young, small trees.” Brow furrowed, he studied the landscape. “We’re missing something. It’s almost as if …”

  “As if what?”

  A steep hill, dotted with trees, lay on the side of the road. Four masses of fur strode up its snow-covered side. They weren’t behemoths. But they were still quite big.

  His gaze tightened. “As if this was a trap.”

  Chapter 53

  Date: December 2, 2017, 4:18 p.m.; Location: Ashland, NH

  He’d seen this form of reborn megafauna before, back in the early days. Morgan had called them Castoroides, or giant beavers. And indeed, the name fit the bill. The giant beavers were six to seven feet long and looked like they weighed over two hundred pounds apiece. Their incisors were six inches in length and far sharper than those found in the jaws of more modern beavers.

  He grabbed hold of his axes. “How are you doing with those chains?” he called out.

  “Just a few more minutes,” Ross replied. “Why?”

  “Because we’re about to have a meet-and-greet with four very nasty-looking giant beavers.”