After Robert sends us off, we make our way down to the garage, where we pick out one of the pack’s cars to take. We all have our own, of course. They’re parked here too. But pack business demands pack cars.
“So,” says Morton. “Didn’t think it’d be the freakin’ Blacktails, after all this time.”
“I know,” agrees Chaz. “I’d be happy if I never had to see them again.”
I agree with them, but I stay silent. I don’t want to get caught up in chatter. I like to keep my head clear when I’m on a mission, because if I don’t, I might not be prepared for danger. Or I might just be too distracted to notice important details.
The ride to the Paisley is a little longer than I think it is, simply because the neighborhood is all the way on the outskirts and and there’s some traffic, as there always is in a big city. But the familiar, rundown landscape soon appears in view, and we find ourselves traversing several side streets until we arrive at one that’s in particularly bad shape.
There’s litter everywhere, for one thing, and the buildings look like they survived some war from the last century. There aren’t any kids, and few women. It’s mostly populated with scraggly-looking teens and old men sitting on stoops and smoking cigarettes. I don’t get a bad vibe from them, but it does put me on edge knowing the Blacktails operate here.
“Looks like there’s the shop,” says Chaz, nodding at a grimy storefront. I can’t tell what’s even in the display cases because the windows are pretty gross.
We make our way in, and I’m glad my shiftsuit is covered by my pants and shirt. It’s obnoxious to have to wear all these items of clothing, but it’d be pretty obvious who we were if we walked in wearing the distinctive one piece black outfits.
I’m not expecting to see a kindly old woman sitting behind the counter, but there she is, smiling benignly at us. Around us are tons of antiques. Or, well, they’re not so much antiques as much as they’re old things no one wants anymore.
This place looks incredibly harmless, but it’s the address Robert got from the perp. I don’t see a trace of Blacktail activity anywhere, but there’s got to be something more here.
Chaz and Morton make a show of examining some of the merchandise, while I wander around the shop, looking for anything that looks out of place. But I can’t find it. It really looks like a harmless shop with old tchotchkes, except for the fact that it’s an odd location. I can’t imagine it gets much foot traffic.
“Can I help you find anything, honey?” says the grandma behind the desk, smiling at me. I get a whiff of something from her—she’s a shifter of some kind, definitely a mammal, maybe a canine of some sort, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a carnivore of another kind. If she’s a Blacktail, though…
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, smiling tightly. I’m uncomfortably aware of the fact that even though I dressed to blend in, my clothes are simply too nice for someone patronizing this shop. I clearly look like I’m not from here. And so do Chaz and Morton, though they opted for more casual clothes.
“Sure. Let me know if you need anything, dear,” says the older woman, smiling and turning back to a magazine on the counter in front of her.
I’m not really sure we’re going to get anything of value from here. It certainly seems like it could be a front, largely because I can’t imagine anyone would actually buy anything sold here. But we can’t exactly shake down an innocent-looking grandma for information, and I’m sure that’s exactly why they put her there.
The store is silent except for a fan blowing on the counter. I can hear the occasional whoosh from a car passing by outside, but it’s otherwise a silent street.
But then I hear some thumping from the room behind where the lady’s sitting, and a voice calls out. “Aunt Marie? Do we need more dolls?”
A flicker passes over Marie’s face, but her expression settles into something more relaxed. “No, not right now, honey,” she says. She glances at me briefly and smiles.
I hear footsteps behind me; Chaz and Morton have come up to see what the deal is.
“Do you have any other employees in your shop, then?” I ask politely, like I’m simply making small talk.
“Mmhm,” she says, nodding. “My grandson helps me out sometimes.”
That’s interesting. A potential lead.
Before I can think on it further, the curtain behind the counter shakes and a young male face pops out, smiling good-naturedly when he sees us.
“This is Mortimer,” says Marie.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“He’s been such a help since my arthritis got so bad,” says Marie.
“That’s good to hear,” says Chaz.
Mortimer looks like a decent young man. But his pants are covered in golden hairs—there’s no way he’s not a shifter. A coyote shifter, maybe?
I’m on alert. But there’s no immediate danger here.
I need to get rid of my prejudice, though. Just because a lot of the Blacktails are coyote shifters doesn’t mean all coyote shifters are bad. For all I know, Robert got bad intel and these two are just coyotes trying to make a living.
Somehow, I doubt it. But there’s nothing obviously suspicious about these two.
I weigh my options, wondering if I should tell them we’re seeking information. If they are Blacktails, that’ll make them tighten their security.
I don’t think there’s anything we’re going to learn from here. But there are other places to look.
“Well, this is a lovely shop you have,” I say, making as if to leave. “Have a good one.”
The two shifters wave at us as we leave, looking as innocuous as ever.
When Chaz, Morton, and I are back out on the sidewalk, we walk around to another street so we’re out of view.
“That wasn’t very productive,” says Chaz.
“Nope,” agrees Morton.
“But the store itself isn’t all we can check,” I say. I’m glad I spearheaded this mission because I’m one of the most experienced. I know where else we can go.
I lead the other two alphas around the back, sniffing a little. I know I’ll be able to find what I’m looking for by smell.
And there it is. The dumpster behind the shop. The Blacktails aren’t usually very sloppy, but who knows. It’s worth looking into.
The dumpster doesn’t smell that bad, since it doesn’t have much food in it. It’s mostly full of broken things and old papers and boxes from the store.
Chaz and Morton help me lift the lid, and we rummage inside. It’s a total mess. Half the garbage bags are tearing, spilling their contents out, and there’s all kinds of trinkets littered around the bottom of the dumpster.
I rummage through, upset that I’m getting my hands dirty. Dumpster diving is not my idea of a good time.
“Huh, this looks weird,” said Chaz, his voice strained as he leans far into the dumpster.
When he comes back up, he’s holding a sparkling earring.
I’m not sure why it’s remarkable. There was tons of cheap costume jewelry in the store. This is probably just another reject.
To my surprise, Chaz bites down on the earring and grins. “This is real gold.”
Huh. Maybe these bulbs are brighter than I thought.
He hands it to me and I peer closely at it. I’m no jewelry expert, but now that I’m actually looking, I can tell that it’s much nicer than I thought. The rubies could even be real. They shimmer with a clarity that plastic just can’t touch.
And there’s an odd smell to them. I can’t put my finger—or nose, rather—on it at all. But they smell kind of… homey. Like old perfume and linens stored in the attic.
“We’ll take it with us,” I say, pocketing the earring. Maybe it’ll come in handy later. Something about it is niggling at the back of my brain.
We dig some more, thankfully not attracting the attention of anyone else. The neighborhood really is deserted. But eventually, it becomes clear that this is a waste of our time. We’d have
to storm the shop if we wanted to find anything.
We walk back to the main street and call the car. I’m silent while Chaz and Morton chatter to themselves.
I don’t know what to think of this. The Blacktails are disturbingly elusive, and it’s deeply frustrating to know that they’re carrying out their nefarious activities and harming innocent people right under our noses.
I shake my head as I walk into headquarters. I can only hope we get them this time.
5
Harley
I walk to the back of the store with a spring in my step. Well, a metaphorical spring, seeing as I’m incredibly pregnant. I’m due any day this week. Technically on Friday, but babies don’t necessarily arrive at the perfect time.
I’m glad my life has come together. I followed up with Morty and he got me a job doing paperwork at his grandmother’s antiques store. The store’s in a slightly run-down neighborhood called the Paisley, but I don’t feel unsafe here. I usually see what looks like lots of immigrant families, with plenty of kids. I didn’t think Stell would have any lower-income neighborhoods because it had looked so shiny when I first saw it, but it does.
The people here seem reasonably happy, though it’s obvious that their lives are a little more difficult than those of the people who live downtown.
I toss the cardboard box into the dumpster, which is overflowing. Thankfully, it’s mostly just broken stuff from the shop and old papers—not gross food waste. I don’t think I could handle the stench of a regular dumpster in my state.
When I walk back in, Marie, Morty’s grandmother, gives me a smile, glancing down at my stomach. We’ve become fast friends, especially since she took an interest in the baby. In fact, she’s been a huge help. Like many other grandmothers I’ve known, she had all kinds of things in her house that she was willing to give me to help: baby blankets, baby clothes, old furniture, kitchen products… I felt bad taking them, but she insisted. She said they were just gathering dust in the attic.
With the stuff she gave me, some old stuff from the store, and things I found at thrift stores, I’ve managed to make a little home for myself and Hunter, and I can’t wait to go back.
It’s time for the shop to close. I gather my bag and head outside after saying goodbye to Marie, and make my way to the PubTran station. Stell has a fantastic public transport system, the first one I’ve ever encountered. I love that it’s possible to travel around the city without a car.
I step onto the platform, and the train arrives a minute later. It’s one of the new high speed magnetic trains. We never had anything like that back in Spruce Springs. As I get into my seat, I can’t help but marvel at the speed and smoothness of the ride, a far cry from the old freight trains we used to jump on back home.
The train platform is raised so I get a beautiful view of Stell on my way back to my neighborhood. It’s a relief to finally have my own place, even though it’s a little sparse right now. The incredible thing is that I’ve finally done what I set out to achieve—build a new life for me and Hunter.
The neighborhood I live in is called Silverbridge because it’s right next to the eponymous Silver Bridge, which carries a major highway over the river. It’s a little quieter here than it was downtown, but it still has good access to the other parts of Stell because there’s a transportation hub nearby.
I step out of the train and make my way down the stairs to the street. Silverbridge is a quaint neighborhood; supposedly there used to be factories here on the banks of the river, so there are a lot of loft apartments and old factories and office buildings turned into studio spaces and shops. I never could have imagined myself living in a place like this.
I live in one of the lofts on the bank of the river. I remember seeing TV shows set in places like Stell, and I know from those that this type of apartment in this type of neighborhood is usually regarded as a luxury thing. Not something someone like me can afford.
But with the advance Marie gave me, I was able to put down my deposit. And they’re paying me a lot more than I thought they would. It’s still going to be tricky when Hunter arrives, but now I know we’re actually going to make it.
I unlock the door and enter my home. My very own house, my own space that is all mine. It feels great to have the privacy.
I plop right down on the couch. I’m exhausted.
I keep thinking about Carson. But I’m too shy to contact him. Then again, if I want him in my life at all, I’m going to have to do it. I didn’t give him my number, so it’d be the only way.
Well, there’s no rush to make a decision.
Or is there? My mind is always wandering in his direction. I wonder what he’s doing, what is job is, who his friends and family are. If he’s attached. If he has kids. What he looks like underneath that suit.
I blush upon that last thought. I haven’t felt sexual in a long time, largely because of how tough life has been, but before that, because my ex was abusive to me. Hard to feel attracted to a guy who beats you.
Carson seemed kind. No, he was kind. I bet he’d be great in bed, a generous lover, gentle and caring, an absolute dream to sleep with. I sigh. Despite the fact that I’m incredibly pregnant, my cock twitches.
I guess Carson is just so attractive that I can’t help but respond to thinking sexually about him.
I haven’t really allowed myself to think sexually about anyone, mostly because I wouldn’t be able to follow up on it. I didn’t want to indulge my thoughts and then feel frustrated.
But maybe… maybe here in Stell, I can find a new dad for Hunter. Or, well, I don’t need to get that serious that fast. I could just try casually dating. I could meet new people, just go on dates for practice, so I can figure out what I want in a partner. I got with my ex too young, so I didn’t know what I wanted. I wasn’t discerning, and it came back to bite me.
Now I have a better sense of what I want. Someone kind. Someone put together, someone who has a job.
Someone like Carson. Sigh.
I think I pretty much have a crush on him at this point. That’s what a crush is like, right? You can’t stop thinking about the person? All my trains of thought lead back to Carson.
I should text him.
I pull out my phone, staring at the screen, but I get distracted by other notifications.
My stomach grumbles. I should eat something, for myself, and for Hunter. But I’m too tired to get up. Or rather, I don’t want to.
I like just being able to sit like this, in a space all my own. It’s a peace I feel like I’ve never known. And now it’ll just be a sanctuary for me and Hunter.
I feel a twinge of pain down there, which makes my heart beat faster. Is something wrong with the baby?
With great reluctance, I get up and go the bathroom, wondering if it’s maybe just gas. When I pull my pants down and see myself in the mirror, I spot something unusual.
There’s a thin red line under my belly button, over my dick. It’s curved under my rounded belly, with the ends pointing upward. I run my finger over it, causing another twinge of pain which seems to radiate from it.
This… this is what happens to men when they’re ready to give birth, isn’t it?
To my fascination and slight horror, the line turns redder, a deep, blood red. It starts to grow thicker, more raised, and I feel bloated. There’s another twinge of pain.
I feel like a chicken with its head cut off, because I’m starting to panic. I know I need to do something about this, but I’m paralyzed. This means the baby is coming. The doctor warned me about it. I need to call someone as soon as possible to take me to the hospital.
With trembling fingers, I pick up my phone, scrolling through my contacts. It’s becoming more difficult to focus as the pain becomes more frequent and greater in intensity. I can feel Hunter kicking occasionally—it seems like he’s getting agitated too.
As I scroll through my contacts, looking for the hospital’s number, I pause over Carson’s. I have Marie’s number, and Morty’s. They�
��d take me to the hospital. But they’re farther away, in the Paisley. They might not get to me in time. There’s an emergency hotline for the city, but I don’t know if I should call it.
I don’t know what to do. I know the doctor gave me some suggestions, but I can’t for the life of me think of them right now.
Without thinking twice, I press Carson’s name in my contacts list, and the phone starts ringing.
“Hello? This is Carson Fleur.”
“C-Carson,” I say, my voice trembling like my fingers. Another twinge of pain racks my body and I gasp. “I… The baby…”
“Is something wrong?” he asks, his voice suffused with concern.
“The baby’s coming,” I manage to say. “I need to get to the hospital.”
I decide belatedly that I need to sit down, and plop myself on the floor of my bathroom. Not ideal, but I’m not thinking straight.
“Harley,” he says. “I’m coming. Sit tight. What’s your address?”
After I tell him, he promises to be there within ten minutes.
It’s going to be the longest ten minutes of my life. Despite the increasing pain, I manage to get myself to the door, unlocking it. I had taken the doctor’s advice to keep a bag ready with my things, so I can grab it and go to the hospital.
By the time I hear thumping footsteps coming up the stairs, I’m flat on my back on the floor, groaning. The red line has become raised. Even though I can’t see it, I run my fingers over it, noticing how it’s getting bigger by the second.
Hunter’s ready to come out.
Carson pushes the door open, sees me, and scoops me up into his arms. It becomes clear to me just how much bigger he is than me, and I sigh with relief, though the pain is still throbbing inside me.
“Th-the bag,” I say, gesturing with a flail towards the duffel bag near the door.
He expertly grabs it while holding on to me, locks my door from the inside, and heads out. I don’t have the energy to care whether it’s locked or not. My main priority right now is Hunter, and it’s becoming harder and harder for me to stay alert as my body begins to devote all its resources to the birth.
Runaway Omega_Harley Page 4