by Angela White
Marc automatically stepped forward to help, holding the tom still, soothing, and rubbing. The husky cat calmed down, letting the vet smear a thick, yellow salve over its wounds.
In response, Chris walked away, leaving him to keep the restless feline on the table. Marc shot Neil a look as the vet disappeared into the tent without a word. “A little help here?”
The trooper grinned, taking a quick look around. Clear. “What you get for jumping in without looking first.” Neil’s grin widened, voice lowered. “Besides, it’s just a little pussy.”
Marc laughed with him, trying not to get scratched as the cat started to bush up. The tom had spotted the wolf, and Marc moved to block its view, wincing as a sharp claw pierced his wrist like a needle, then another.
Before the next one could, he followed his instincts. “No. Stop. Stay.”
Dog dropped to his haunches, and the cat slowly removed its claws from Marc’s stinging skin.
“Is he full-blooded?” Chris had come from the tent with a syringe and a small, blue collar.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. He looks the part, but sometimes he just acts too much like a dog.”
The vet’s hands were gentle and quick with the cat as he relieved Marc of the contently purring feline. “You’re good with animals.”
Marc saw Neil’s surprised look at the compliment and grinned. “They’re easier to make friends with."
The vet didn’t respond to the hint, just carefully took the cat to a small stack of carriers and put him inside.
“You’ll have to register the wolf or one of the camp’s ‘young guns’ will shoot him,” Chris called over his shoulder.
“That’s why we’re here,” Neil said quickly to the sarcastic words. “Do you have time now?”
“Sure. Was about to take a break anyway.”
The words carried annoyance, and Marc wished Angie were here to tell him what the man's problem was.
“I had to leave for a while and even though I told him I would, he didn’t think I was coming back.”
Angela flashed a smile at the turning men as she stepped past, heart thumping with happiness at seeing Brady's eyes light up.
Only Marc noticed the vet’s face brighten, too, before it was quickly hidden away.
“Sorry I took so long. Lines.”
“I’m used to not having help.”
The bitter tone was hard, and while Marc frowned at him, Angela only nodded and pulled her dirty overcoat back on. “I mentioned that to Adrian. So, what’s next?”
The vet snorted. “Next were the cats that I did while you were gone,” he stated coolly, pretending he didn’t care that she had spoken to Adrian about him. That was something Kenn or Neil should have done.
“Now is the wolf. We’ll draw blood and give the same vaccinations as the dogs. It’s all in the tent. Think you can find it?”
Angela moved that way without answering, aware of Marc glaring at the vet.
His scowl grew when Chris stole a quick look at her retreating rear.
“I’ll do the physical exam first.”
Before Marc could tell him anything, the vet bent down and got started, fingers gentle, knowledgeable.
Dog stayed still, not quite growling, but very tense, until the man’s hands slid between his legs. Then he jerked back, baring his teeth.
“Easy, boy.” Marc rubbed Dog’s rigid ears and hoped the vet planned to hurry.
“He’s in good shape,” Chris said, feeling the sturdy neck and the muzzle. He didn’t bat an eyelash when the wolf nipped at his fingers, just flicked the animal on the nose, drawing a small, surprised yelp.
“No. Stay.”
The vet went on with his exam, and Marc was impressed when Dog seemed to relax.
“Beautiful. Stud or worker?”
“What’s the difference?”
“We don’t have any pets here. Animals are either food or security, unless they’re breeders. Studding means being chained up.”
Marc was frowning, “And the workers?”
“He passes an obedience course and gets put to work. You can do both, but the workers are harder to breed for some reason.”
Chris turned to go get what he needed from the tent, and Angela was there to hand him a syringe and a long, plastic tube with a blue ring on the end.
“Very organized system you’ve got in there. Even an idiot can find what he needs.”
Chris cracked a reluctant smile, but said nothing as he drew blood from the wolf’s back leg.
Neil was surprised when the big animal didn’t move, didn’t seem to feel it. The vaccinations, all done at the same time, made Dog bare his teeth, but he didn’t snap or bite, and the cop wondered if Angela’s glazed eyes had anything to do with it.
“What’s the course he has to pass?” Marc asked, fighting to keep his gaze from Angie as she took the tubes to the tent while writing on them.
“Commands first. Have him do the basics. I may add some.”
Marc locked eyes with the wolf. “Heel, Dog.”
The animal immediately moved to his side and Marc threw an arm out. “Up and over by three.”
The wolf leapt almost straight up, easily clearing Marc’s arm. Upon landing, he repeated the exact movement twice more before returning to his master’s side.
“Pass.”
The vet studied the alert animal thoughtfully for a moment and then turned for the tent without a word, leaving Neil to roll his eyes at the man’s rudeness, and Marc to nod his agreement.
A few minutes later, their looks turned to frowns, and they both stepped closer to the tent at the sounds of clothing rustling and grunting.
“Pull on the damn thing! It doesn’t bite!”
“I’m trying not to rip it off. It’s old.”
“That sucked! Next time, I’ll do myself!”
The vet stomped out of the tent, and Angela came out behind him, grinning at Marc and Neil’s expressions.
Chris was wearing a very thickly padded dog-training suit, no weapon, just a size advantage and he suddenly swung around toward Angela.
All three men saw her flinch at his raised hands, going for her gun, and then the wolf was moving past them, responding to Angela’s need without a single word being spoken.
Those who had stopped to watch gasped in alarm at the quick blur Dog became as he streaked toward the vet.
Dog jumped for the vet’s throat and got a padded arm instead. He immediately let go and lunged upward, latching onto a small swatch of padding and then skin as his teeth broke through.
When Chris went to his knees, struggling to push him away, Marc gave a sharp whistle.
The wolf let go, backed up a couple feet. They all saw the blood on his muzzle and on the outfit Angela immediately began helping Chris pull off.
“So we’re done?” Neil asked, grinning when the vet shrugged away from Angela’s doctoring.
“I hope so. He already needs stitches.”
Angela handed him a large gauze pad to hold over his shoulder and the hint of vanilla that teased his nose made the vet’s face tighten. He immediately moved away. “Not the first time.”
He went to the wolf without any fear Marc could see, something he respected, would remember.
“Good boy.” Chris gave the wolf a solid pat to his chest and a quick rub of the tense neck, then moved to the desk to write in a thick notebook, still holding the gauze in place.
The crowd began to move again, murmuring and muttering.
“Red collar. Adrian will want him classified as a worker, but I’d like to try breeding too.”
Marc nodded, watching Angela pull a scarlet collar from her back pocket.
She handed it to him with careful fingers, not meeting his eyes, but wanting to badly. She turned back to the vet instead. “Next?”
Neil grinned, thinking she sounded like Brady.
Chris snorted. “A bandage maybe?”
She went to get one from his tent, and Chris turned to Neil. “What�
�s her story? I’ve been busy. I haven’t heard anything yet.”
Neil and Marc both frowned at him.
“She’s going to be our doctor,” the trooper said cautiously, and the vet snorted again.
“I knew that already. Is she single?”
Marc turned away, and Neil followed, shrugging. “Have to ask her. Thanks. See ya later.”
Marc looked at the wolf, then pointed to where Angela was coming from the tent. “Stay. Guard her.”
Chris immediately understood this man was someone to her and recognized the sharp tone of command. He instinctively bowed to it as he met Marc’s eyes. “She’ll be safe here. It’s you we’ll hate.”
The vet turned away before Marc could respond.
Marc caught up with Neil, still not sure about this place, these people. Angie would be good here, he knew that already, and the wolf could look out for himself. As for Marc, he had spent most of his life taking care of number one. These sheep may need a shepherd, but he didn’t. Just because he had agreed to help with some things, do some quiet work for Adrian, it didn’t mean their Boss had his true loyalty. So far, that honor belonged solely to Angie.
Marc sighed, trying not to be mad. The sour vet hadn’t told him anything he hadn’t already known.
4
“I thought we’d join a game next. Right now there’s soccer, corn-hole, and darts.”
“Darts?”
Neil took a quick look around, moving them toward the yells and thuds coming from the opposite side of the sprawling camp. They both ignored the hard, unhappy looks of those they passed. “He likes to have something on hand for everyone. Tomorrow it’s football.”
The field was spacious, freshly mowed and almost empty. Only twelve men were there, no referee, and even fewer spectators, giving them one corner of the area to themselves. Surrounded by thick trees and ankle-high grass, Marc looked it over in approval. There were even real goal nets at each end, outlined in painted white, and Marc waited eagerly as the game restarted. He had briefly played as a kid.
“New soccer is better,” Neil stated, wondering if the Wolfman had a weakness other than Angie. If he did, these men would find it.
Marc watched as the teams - one with their shirts off - yelled and charged the ball as a group. They taunted and screamed, their faces red as they tripped, were punched. There was bleeding, sweating, serious blows, and Marc’s heart picked up a bit as he followed the violent game.
“You still can’t touch the ball with your hands, but you can do whatever it takes to get it. First team to ten wins,” Neil said, thinking it would be interesting to see Marc and Safe Haven’s XO on the field at the same time.
The wind gusted, blowing a cloud of dust over the dim field, and a group of men rushing for the ball got tangled up and fell hard, drawing blood. Three of them left the game and Neil looked at Marc as both teams waved them over. “We can still play darts. Hilda's probably there.”
The men exchanged a grin and Marc pulled his shirt over his head and led the way onto the field. Others came from the sidelines, and he noticed they automatically adjusted the teams. Not for the first time, Brady was curious as to exactly how high in the chain-of-command Neil was.
There were no greetings as they lined up, no chatter, and Marc also wondered how much these particular men disliked him. It could get more than a bit uncomfortable, he thought. Then, someone blew a whistle, and he was forced to concentrate on just staying on his feet.
Marc was hit hard, again and again, and not only when he got close to the ball. He began to duck punches and jump over outstretched arms and legs, but didn’t retaliate the way he had with Doug. He made contact, but tried to be neutral about it even though they let themselves go and brought him down every time they could.
There were few taunts in this game, and Neil hung back, let him continue to do what he’d done all day. Prove he belonged. There were big hits, as well as a couple of dazzling steals and attempts that caused men to yell and people to point and cheer. The small crowd along the sidelines began to grow.
A while later they stopped for a quick break and an injury that would need stitches. The score was 5 to 1 with Marc’s team losing. The crowd had grown to about thirty, and when play resumed, Neil was at his side.
“You’re back,” Marc said, sweaty and bloody with scratches and bruises on his arms, back and chest.
The trooper nodded, grinning. “You’ve shown ‘em you can hold your own alone. Now, we’ll show ‘em you’re a team player too. Stick close.”
Marc smiled, not sure what Neil had in mind until the state cop slammed into the first guy to challenge their progress with the ball, sending him out of the game with a nose gushing blood. From there, they were unstoppable; alternating as they went up and down the field, one moving, the other protecting from as many sides as possible.
When the game ended, 7 to 10, Marc wasn’t ashamed of the loss. They had played hard, and he’d loved it. He was bruised, scraped and sweaty, covered in grass and mud stains, but eager for the next game. He’d missed this!
His teammates hadn’t watched out for him, but they had been impressed that he would defend them when they had the ball. When they reformed for game two, Neil and Marc had more men on their side than they needed. They both grinned when Seth and his very pale chest lined up with them, and again, Marc saw the others automatically adjust teams. So… the redhead was someone here too.
“Threesome?”
Seth nodded as the wind gusted, bringing the scent of rain and decay. “Neil and I have been looking for someone who can keep up. Too bad they won’t let the wolf play.”
They shared a laugh, and the trooper grinned. “Stick close, gentlemen. I’m in the mood.”
Marc grinned, while Seth rolled his eyes. “That means he’s set to piss people off. Get ready to really be hit.”
Marc’s grin widened, thinking he’d been hit pretty real already, and then the whistle came and they ran together, shoving through the pack that included some of their own men.
Neil kicked the guy with the ball, knocking him out of contention so Seth could get it, and he and Marc ran blocks, taking and giving nasty hits. Losing their worries in the competition, when they scored, there was a roar from the crowd of about fifty now watching, yelling, betting and forgetting - for a little while - all the hell they’d been through.
5
“Preparing your own meat, class one. Today, we’ll slaughter a pig and a cow. We’ll put ropes around the hind legs, pull them up, and slit their throats so the blood will drain. Tomorrow we'll skin it, clean it, cut it, and freeze it. First is equipment and preparing the area. We need ropes. Measure it by the weight of the animal. For a cow, the rope should be how thick, Lance Corporal?”
Kenn grunted, digging strong, yellowish coils from the various boxes stacked neatly in front of the tree they were about to use. “At least three inches. Measure it with your three middle fingers side by side, like this.” The Marine held his hand up for everyone to see.
“And for a pig?”
“The same. It’s smaller, but not lighter. It’s mostly fat.”
Men were sitting on truck bumpers, hoods, and the ground, smoking and listening. Adrian’s classes were always full of an energy most of their instructors lacked. Their leader was always the one to start new things, try some new set-up. When he personally taught a class, everyone wanted to be there, no matter the lesson.
“Tell us what’s first, Doug.”
“Canopy over the top,” The big, bruised and bandaged man answered quickly, still very embarrassed, but determined not to let it interfere with his normal place.
“Protecting your food supply begins by protecting the area where it’s kept.” Adrian dug out a very large green tarp and two staple guns as he talked. “We’ll have to refine this, like we do everything else now. Two important things are bird shit and the predators drawn by the smell of blood. Who knows why the shit is more important than the predators?”
“Bec
ause of e Coli?” one of the rookies asked and Adrian nodded, running quick eyes over the camp. Not calm, but okay, a lot of people missing to see such short bathroom and shower lines…the faint, excited voices told him that it was something happening inside his camp, not out. Kyle would tell him.
“Exactly. No shit of any kind near the food. One piece of infected meat will kill everyone in this camp.”
Adrian let that sit with them for a moment. This was his newest group of rookies, but after tonight, a fresh level would take their place. He had no doubts about their passing. This was one of the strongest groups he’d put together since Seth’s team.
"Who can tell me how we'll put the tarp over that first limb? Without any climbing."
The fourteen men considered, exchanging looks and ideas, and again it was the rookie, Kevin, who found the answer for them. "We'll staple ropes to each side and shoot it over with arrows."
Kevin was among the few men he was currently considering for leadership, and Adrian gave Kenn a look. It was exactly what the Marine had come up with.
"Any other suggestions?"
There were, of course, but none as simple. No one spoke.
"That's what we'll do then. Who are the two best shooters here?"
Everyone looked at Kenn, and Adrian waved him forward with a nod. "Who else?"
Daniel, a tall, bald, private investigator from Utah stood up nervously. "I'm next, I think. Kenn only got me by one shot on the last Level test."
Adrian nodded, grinning even as another roar from the camp behind them, louder this time, made his gut tighten. "One's all it takes. Okay. Let’s do it."
It went about as smoothly as the taking of a life by amateurs can, Adrian's cut deep enough to kill; the steadiers, a little squeamish but willing; the pulling a little too rough, too hard, but the branch held and the tarp directed the pungent mess. Less than five minutes later, the carcass was staked three feet off the ground, steadily draining, and fires had been lit in the corner cans.
Adrian and his men took a minute, careful not to put bloody fingers on their mouths while they smoked.
"The smell will draw predators. We'll have two guards here and motion detectors, so don't set them off when you show up for your tests tonight."