Savage (Apex Predator Book 2)

by David Meyer

  Chains fell to the pavement. Ross and others ran over to join Caplan and Mills. At that moment, one of the beavers lifted its head and gave them a crazed, tense look. Its eyes were bloodshot and it appeared to be hyperventilating.

  “Well, there’s no way around these trees,” Ross said, his gaze shooting to the safety barricades on both sides of the road. “What do you want to do?”

  “Fight,” Caplan decided. “If you want to help, grab a weapon. Otherwise, hunker down in the cars.”

  Feet scuffled as people raced to the vehicles. They reemerged within seconds, their hands filled with tire irons, daggers, baseball bats, and yes, even swords, all of which had been scrounged up from the Cambridge parking garage.

  The beavers stepped over the metal barricade. Spitting and drooling, they raced toward their prey. Mills struck first, sinking two arrows into a beaver’s face. Screeching in pain, it tripped and rolled head over heels. Caplan was on it quickly, slicing its throat with an axe.

  Aquila sidestepped a charging beaver and swung her sword at its back. The creature flopped onto its face. Six others surrounded it, using a variety of blades to finish it off.

  George knocked the third beaver for a loop with his baseball bat. Dr. Sandy attacked its skull with a metal folding chair. Others joined in to subdue the creature.

  The fourth beaver, seeing all of this, tried to run away. But Ross threw his chain around its neck, cutting off its escape. People leapt onto the creature’s limbs, holding them down. The beaver extended its jaws, snapping viciously. But before it could bite anyone, people dispatched it with blades and heavy tools.

  The battle was over quickly. Afterward, Ross unraveled his chain from the giant beaver’s neck and wrapped it around the trees. Mills and the Pylors took up lookout duty alongside the road. Meanwhile, Dr. Sandy walked amongst the crowd, looking for wounds and injuries. Outside of a few scratches and scrapes, everyone was okay.

  Caplan helped Ross secure the chains to a truck. Meanwhile, others rolled the beaver carcasses off the road. Still others walked around with food and water, offering the items to anyone who needed them.

  After the logs had been moved, Ross turned to Caplan. “Beavers are dead and the road is clear. We’re getting pretty good at this survival stuff, huh?”

  “Don’t get cocky.” Caplan looked around. Still no helicopters, still no soldiers. But for how much longer? “It only gets tougher from here.”

  Chapter 54

  Date: December 2, 2017, 6:07 p.m.; Location: Rockford, NH

  “That’s ArcSim. I’m sure of it.” Caplan’s voice was hushed as he leaned forward, his gaze focused on the windshield. “I think … yes, it’s dead.”

  Toland arched an eyebrow. “How can you be sure?”

  The sun had set and the sky had grown dark. On a normal night, Caplan would’ve driven by moon- and starlight in order to avoid attracting attention. But with time running short, he’d switched on his headlights. Now, those headlights illuminated a giant mass of black, wiry fur.

  “Its chest is still,” Caplan pointed out. “And look at all that dried blood. It must be dead.”

  “Or merely unconscious. I say we go around it.”

  He checked the dashboard clock. Just six hours remained until the first wave of archaics would enter the world. “There’s no time,” he replied.

  He released the brake and eased down on the gas pedal. As the SUV rumbled forward, he kept his gaze locked on the textured black fur. ArcSim wasn’t an ordinary behemoth. In Caplan’s eyes, it was the behemoth. The undisputed king of all it surveyed.

  He’d first crossed paths with ArcSim seventeen months ago in an underground laboratory. At the time, it had stood twelve feet on its hind legs, making it two feet taller than even the most massive grizzlies. After venturing outdoors, it had expanded in size, eventually reaching a full behemoth length of over one hundred feet.

  He recalled escaping the Vallerio in Corbotch’s Rexto 419R3 helicopter. Looking down, he’d seen the massive ArcSim slice through the forest with ease, leaving a bulldozer-like path in its wake. Its sheer raw power had stunned him.

  He pulled to a stop just shy of the creature. Leaving the headlights on, he stepped out of the car and took a good long look at the behemoth. It lay on its side, its head resting on its right shoulder. Long scratches marked its face. Its head was cocked at a weird angle. Strips of flesh had been torn away from its torso, causing organs and copious amounts of blood to spill out onto the snow.

  Mills climbed out of the backseat. “Those look like claw marks,” she said, pointing at its face and torso.

  He nodded. “Another behemoth did this.”

  “Behemoths are killing behemoths? That’s new.”

  She was right. He’d seen behemoths nipping and biting each other in the past. But he’d never seen them battle each other to the death.

  “James spent a lot of time and resources making the behemoths,” he remarked. “I wonder how he’d feel about them hurting each other.”

  “Not good, I bet. He didn’t build them just so they’d bump each other off.”

  “Then we must be dealing with a rogue behemoth.” He gazed at the whale-sized ArcSim. “A really big rogue behemoth.”

  Chapter 55

  Date: December 2, 2017, 6:53 p.m.; Location: Outskirts of Vallerio Forest, NH

  The dead trees looked like dark, icy columns. The spaces between them, blacker than night, resembled long-forgotten corridors and alleys. Caplan’s skin tingled. Even now, even after all that had happened, the Vallerio still reminded him of an ancient city. An ancient, wicked city brimming with lost ruins. Still, the forest had changed over the last seventeen months. It no longer pulsed with evil, mystical life. The seething fury that had once inhabited its dark corridors had been snuffed out as well. Indeed, the Vallerio felt disturbingly calm, disturbingly dead.

  “Tell me something, Zach.” Toland arched an eyebrow in superior fashion. “Did you ever stop to think about how we’d actually drive through the forest?”

  Shifting his gaze, Caplan stared at the sagging remains of a giant electric fence. In the old days, it had stood proud and tall, cutting off the Vallerio from the outside world. But the rampaging behemoths had taken their toll on the barrier. As such, it was no longer an obstacle. No, the real obstacle was the forest itself.

  The Vallerio was undergoing a process of rapid disintegration. Hundreds of ancient tree trunks, once unbreakable columns, had cracked open and toppled over. Now, they crisscrossed the dark corridors and alleys, blocking off all access to the interior.

  “You used to work here,” Mills said. “How’d you get in and out of the forest?”

  “By helicopter,” he replied. “We used a ground vehicle for short expeditions. But that was all off-roading.”

  Teo’s brow hardened into a ridge. “Maybe we could move the trees.”

  “Be my guest,” Toland replied. “There must be only about, oh, a million of them between here and Savage.”

  Teo arched an eyebrow at Elliott. Elliott, in turn, gave her a look as if to say, See? I told you he was a jerk.

  Caplan propped his elbow up on the windowsill. He continued to study the forest, to search its lifeless corridors for answers. His mind slipped back to forty-eight hours earlier. He recalled sitting in the helicopter, held captive by Roberts’ soldiers. He recalled ascending into the air. He recalled seeing the exterior of Savage Station along with the ruins of Savage City. They’d continued to rise and …

  A sly smile crept over his face. He twisted the steering wheel and stepped on the gas. The SUV jolted and vibrated as it drove over uneven ground.

  “You’re wasting your time.” Toland spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “I don’t care if you do find an entry point. This entire forest is clogged with dead trees.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that.” He drove a little farther, leading the rest of the caravan east along the Vallerio’s outskirts.

  He turned left and pressed the brake.
A dark corridor stood before him. No, not a corridor. A street … a multi-lane street consisting of crushed, sunken trees and flat soil, all covered with a thin sheen of snow.

  Mills cocked her head. “Is that a behemoth trail?”

  “It sure is,” Caplan replied.

  Seventeen months ago, the behemoths had stomped out into the world, carving out enormous swathes of forest in the process. Thanks to the ongoing Holocene extinction, the vegetation had never regrown.

  “This is crazy,” Toland said. “We don’t even know where this trail goes.”

  “Maybe not,” Mills said. “But it probably intersects with other trails. And those trails will intersect with still other trails. It’s like a vast system of roads.”

  “Yes. An unmapped system of roads.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I got a pretty good look at them when we flew out of here two days ago. A few cut pretty close to Savage. With a little luck, we just might find them.” Caplan released the brake and gunned the engine. Then he directed the SUV over a section of ruined fence.

  And into the Vallerio.

  Chapter 56

  Date: December 2, 2017, 11:46 p.m.; Location: Sector 214, Vallerio Forest, NH

  “I see something.” Mills stabbed a finger at her window. “A glint of light. It could be nothing, but …”

  Caplan eased down on the brake, bringing the van to a slow stop. The other vehicles, which trailed him in a line, halted as well.

  It had taken them several hours to navigate the curving, twisting behemoth trails. But at long last, they’d forged a path to Sector 214.

  The mysterious Savage City lay within that sector. Savage Station existed on the edge of that ancient, forgotten place. Thus, find the ruins, find the station. It seemed simple enough. Unfortunately, the darkness, coupled with the dense and dying forest, played tricks on their eyes. They thought they’d seen the ruins over a dozen times. But they had yet to find anything other than fallen trees and boulders.

  He checked the clock. Less than fifteen minutes left until the commencement of Stage Three. Then two-hundred and fifty-six archaics would emerge from Level X. Shortly afterward, they’d be taken to their new homes, most likely by helicopter.

  He needed to reach Savage before that point. He needed to be sure Chenoa’s soldiers had left the station. Then he could launch his attack.

  “I see what you mean,” Teo said. “You know, I think that’s water. And a bridge. A broken bridge.”

  His ears perked. Switching off his headlights, he looked out the side window. He saw a faint glimmer of light, shrouded in darkness. Gradually, the darkness faded and he noticed a dry creek-bed, filled with the remnants of a stone bridge.

  Sweeping his gaze to either side of the bridge, he noticed old brick and cement structures. They were dilapidated and covered with withered vines and dead vegetation.

  “Nice work. This is definitely it.” He shut off the engine and climbed outside. The other drivers turned off their engines as well. The headlights vanished and the buzz of electricity died off. People piled out of their cars. Grabbing their weapons, they gathered together.

  Axes at the ready, Caplan walked toward the broken bridge. He crossed over the dry creek bed and kept walking. His boots passed onto a hard surface. Scraping away snow and dead plants, he saw the cracked remains of an old asphalt road.

  He walked down the road, seeing the charred, burnt remains of a small post office, houses, stables, a school, and a general store. He even saw the burnt-out hulk of a bank, complete with a very large concrete vault. Between the buildings, he caught sight of rusty machines, well-rotted wooden carts, and other odds and ends.

  The forest was dead but the ancient town felt very much alive to Caplan. He sensed its evil, its pent-up fury. Something had happened here long ago. Something bad.

  He walked farther. His gaze narrowed as he laid eyes upon a giant metal hatch.

  There it is, he thought. Savage Station.

  Savage Station was certainly a refuge. But as he stared at the hatch, he couldn’t help but think about how it was so much more than a mere sanctuary. Indeed, the last hopes of a dying world rested upon its metal and concrete shoulders.

  An uneasy feeling filled his gut. Corbotch had made it clear that archaics needed to replace people. That was the only way to end the Holocene extinction. Simple enough. And yet, as he’d indicated to Toland, not so simple at all.

  If Caplan’s group took over Savage, they’d also take over responsibility for managing the Holocene extinction. If they abandoned the archaic program, they’d doom Mother Nature to certain death. But continuing the program meant transforming more innocent people into archaics. Could he and his friends bring themselves to do that? To knowingly hurt people for the greater good?

  “That’s the hatch,” Mills said, whispering loud enough so everyone could hear her. “Savage Station is below it.”

  “Wonderful.” Toland pulled up next to Caplan. “Just one question. Once Chenoa’s soldiers take the archaics away, how are we supposed to get in there? Because I’m pretty sure chanting ‘open sesame’ won’t do the trick.”

  The ground rumbled. Metal scraped gently against metal as the hatch slid out of the way. A gaping hole, filled with bright light, appeared.

  “I can get it open,” Teo whispered.

  Toland gave her a withering look. “With what? A bunch of feminist nonsense?”

  “No.” She met his gaze. “With tools.”

  “Oh really? I bet you don’t know a hacksaw from a—”

  Caplan raised his voice to a sharp whisper. “Everyone down.”

  Collectively, the group flung themselves to the soil. Other than the passing wind, the air remained silent. There were no rotors, no clanking restraints, no voices.

  “What’s taking so long?” Ross whispered.

  “There are two-hundred and fifty-six archaics,” Caplan reminded him. “It’ll take time to load them into the helicopters.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Still … hang on …” He furrowed his brow. “Something’s happening.”

  Caplan turned back to the hatch. He saw a dark figure emerge from the brightness. The figure scrambled over the lip of the hatch, then rose up to its full height.

  “Is that a soldier?” Aquila wondered.

  “I don’t see a rifle.” Teo looked thoughtful. “I bet it’s a mechanic, performing maintenance on the hatch.”

  Other dark figures emerged from the brightness. They came from all sides, scaling ladders. Gliding onto solid ground, they joined the first figure in front of the hatch.

  Aquila arched an eyebrow. “A team of mechanics?”

  A collective howl rose up into the night sky.

  “Those aren’t mechanics.” Mills shook her bow open and reached for an arrow. “They’re archaics.”

  Chapter 57

  Date: December 3, 2017, 12:04 a.m.; Location: Sector 214, Vallerio Forest, NH

  They knew we were coming, Caplan realized. They were watching us the entire time.

  His plan to seize Savage Station at a moment of vulnerability was now defunct. Even worse, retreat was out of the question. Corbotch and Roberts clearly knew of their presence and could easily follow them. No, the only way out of this mess was to just suck it up and fight.

  He scanned the archaics, counting thirty-three in total. They were barefoot and wore light gowns. A close look revealed their prominent brow ridges, weak chins, and barrel-shaped torsos.

  His face screwed up in distaste. These archaics had been housed on Level X during his previous visit. As such, he’d never laid eyes upon them. But he’d spent several days listening to their howls and screams while locked in Roberts’ torture chamber. So, in a way, he still felt like he knew them.

  They hadn’t asked for this. It had been done to them, against their will. But that didn’t make them any less dangerous. Like it or not, it was kill or be killed.

  The small archaic army, moving as one, advanced into the ruins of Savage City. S
narls and howls filled the air.

  “They know we’re here,” Caplan said, his face hardening into rock. “Everyone on your feet. Stay close and watch each other’s backs. And whatever you do, don’t panic.”

  His friends, almost eighty strong, pushed themselves off the ground. Quickly, they sorted themselves into little groups. Bravado laced their voices, but their pale cheeks and trembling fingers spoke of a deep, instinctual fear. People had fought archaics long ago and the memories of those battles ran deep within the human genome.

  Laying eyes on Caplan’s group, the archaic army bellowed as one. Waving their arms, they hurtled forward, driven by confusion, pain, and microchip-inspired bloodlust.

  A tiny vibration streaked through the snow-covered soil. Caplan’s brow tightened. A behemoth, he thought. Probably the same one that took out ArcSim. Well, that ought to kick this party up a notch.

  The little groups formed into circles, their backs facing inward. They held their weapons—chairs, knives, hammers, trashcan lids—in white-knuckled grips.

  Caplan backed up against Mills. She held her bow like a staff and an arrow like a dagger. Toland, clutching a crowbar, joined them. So did Teo and Elliott, both armed with bats. Ross was the last to join their circle. He’d wrapped chains around his fists and traded in his boisterous personality for one of quiet venom.

  Raising his axes, Caplan uttered a guttural scream at the stars. One last plea to the Heavenly Father above. One last attempt to forgo violence.

  The archaic army smashed into the circles. Their momentum and power caused them to burst right through them, tearing them apart. People twisted, turned, fought to stay upright on the slippery snow. Some fell, but quickly rose up again, eager to avoid the violent fate that had befallen their friends back in Cambridge.

  Four archaics rushed Caplan’s circle. Their eyes were wide and bulging. They ran full-tilt, moving at incredible, almost reckless speed. It gave him an idea.