Wild One_Born Wild 1_A Series Set in the Wilds

by Donna Augustine

  Wild One

  Born Wild Book One (A Wilds Series)

  Donna Augustine

  Copyright © 2018 by Donna Augustine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Donna Augustine

  1

  Everybody wants to be a superhero. They want to be special, believe that they can save the world and all that blah, blah, blah, bullshit. Well, that would be everybody but me. All I wanted was to save my own ass, and maybe one other person, before I ditched what was left of the human race as soon as I got the chance.

  Why? Because when the Bloody Death wiped out most of the world, what it left behind was pretty much crap. I’ve only known a handful of decent people and I’ve lived on this earth for eighteen years, give or take a couple of months. That was a large enough sampling size for me.

  Of course, because all I’d ever wanted was to be normal, stands to reason I’d end up as anything but that. I’ve been cursed from the day I was born with this strange gift. You know what was worse than having a power you never wanted? Having one that was absolutely worthless to you when you needed it.

  Like right now, being super strong would have been great, so I could kill the asshole standing in front of me. Or what about flying? So I could escape. But I’m not killing anyone or escaping because, as I mentioned, my power sucks. It was worse than having no power at all.

  “You think you can leave here?” Baryn’s spit flew between the rotted teeth he had left and a foul odor blasted my nostrils as he screamed. His fist, covered in my blood, waved inches from me, as his pustuled face served as an unwanted backdrop.

  Baryn wasn’t my curse. He was just the nightmare that kept reoccurring. Every. Damn. Day. And my superpower couldn’t do a thing about him.

  “You’re going to pay for every second my men had to look for you.” His face grew as red as that last fall tomato he’d eaten for breakfast.

  That was how long I’d been gone too. Since breakfast. Not even a full day. Not that long in the scheme of things, but I guess if you were counting every single second, it added up. “You sure you’ve got the balls to back up something that big? That’s a whole lot of seconds you’re throwing around there, bud.” I hit the B hard, knowing that calling him bud would take him over the edge.

  Baryn’s bald head gleamed, a bead of sweat dripping a trail to the side of his nose. I might’ve imagined he was bursting some blood vessels as his heart hammered through his chest. He was entitled to his surprise, considering I was changing things up unexpectedly. Normally, during our times together, he did most of the talking, while I played more of the silent, mysterious type.

  But something had snapped in me this morning when I’d taken a step out of the village, and then a second. It was as if that first breath of free air had seeped into my lungs and then grabbed a hold of my soul with an iron grip that wouldn’t let go. All the feelings and emotions I’d kept caged within me, beaten back so I could make myself so very small, halving myself so I’d hopefully go unnoticed whenever possible in my fight to survive—they wouldn’t go back in. I couldn’t beat them down anymore. It was as if the iron grip had spread out from my heart into everything that was me. That part I’d pummeled for so long, it was refusing to listen to reason. It didn’t care if Baryn killed me. Didn’t want to hear how it was better to be careful and survive. It couldn’t seem to fit inside that little space I’d allowed it.

  Craziest part was—I. Liked. It.

  I didn’t want to beat it back, force myself to shrink within, and the cost didn’t matter.

  “Don’t you ever speak to me like that.” His arm pulled all the way back, loading up for another swing.

  That wild thing that had broken free inside of me still refused to be cowed. “Fuck. You.”

  His fist struck my nose. The familiar crunch told me it was broken—again. It was already a mangled lump on my face, so it wouldn’t look much worse, and I’d moved past vanity long ago. My head bounced off the wall and then wobbled back. Blood dripping down onto the packed earthen floor, I waited for my head to clear. Waited to see if that thing inside of me, that part that wanted to live large and fuck the consequences, was ready to shrink back into its small box and hide again.

  No.

  It still didn’t give a fuck.

  My skull leaning against the wall for support, I angled my head back to get a look at Baryn. “Be careful exerting yourself too much. You’re not as spry as you used to be. The ole ticker might get tired out and quit.” The nasally tone of my jibe lessened the delivery, but the ragged intake of his breath said it hit its target well enough anyway.

  Baryn’s biggest fear was death, not that you’d know it the way he wasted his days. The problem with Baryn was the same problem lots of people had. They acted like tomorrow was a guarantee. Yes, logically they knew they could die today, but that wasn’t what they truly believed. They walked around as if they had an eternity at their disposal, wasting minutes as if they were nothing. Minutes piling up into hours and days. Years later, they had nothing left but a spent life. Then the reaper knocked on their door and they prayed to the gods of the Wilds for just a few of those minutes back, because then they’d treasure them. Then they’d do this and that and everything in between.

  But everyone has a moment when it all ceases to exist, and the reaper doesn’t care if you beg, get on your knees, and cry. The reaper isn’t an ex who might give you one last go around. When the reaper shows, it’s a date with death.

  And the one thing I knew all too well was death. That was my gift, if you wanted to call it that. I couldn’t always tell you when the reaper was coming, but I knew how he was going to collect and how ugly it was going to be. I knew who’d beg and who’d go out standing tall. When Baryn’s time came, and it was going to be soon, he wouldn’t have a chance to beg.

  Of all the deaths I’d seen, and hated every glimpse of, Baryn’s was the one I’d been waiting for. What a death it would be. Way too grand for the likes of him, but I’d take my opportunity to dance on his corpse any way I got it. Even if it were only for a minute, that minute couldn’t come soon enough.

  Baryn’s face scrunched up as delayed rage finally set in. “Worthless bitch. You deserve everything that’s coming for you.” His fist connected with my ribs.

  The pain was shocking. I didn’t care what anyone said, you never really got used to taking a bad beating, but I knew I’d survive. Once in a blue moon, seeing a person’s death before
it happened had an upside. Long ago, I’d realized that I saw fewer deaths with babies and children. Since I couldn’t see my own either, it made me think maybe I only saw the deaths that preceded mine.

  Winded from doling out the beating, he stepped back, the bulge in his pants obvious. A beating was his foreplay. The swelling and the blood all added to his arousal. Most people didn’t find me attractive, but Baryn did. He got off on the many scars he’d given me through the years. The way my right leg bowed from a crudely healed break he’d caused. The scars that covered my body.

  He moved to his bed, sitting with his legs wide open and leaning back, rubbing between his legs. He mumbled and spoke softly, sick words I drowned out in my head.

  He wouldn’t touch me, no one would—not like that, anyway. That was the only blessing of my gift. There were too many superstitions around my kind. They said I had Death Sight, that I was tainted by the reaper. To sleep with me might bring instant death. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t look his fill while he did his business.

  His stares and grunting used to make bile claw its way up my throat, gagging me. I didn’t feel anything now. Wouldn’t let him have that part of me. I stared out the window above me, with eyes that were swelling shut, at the tree tops beyond the wall that enclosed our village. I pushed him from my mind until I was alone with nothing but the stars and the sound of owls hooting in the distance.

  What it had been like to run free through those trees. They said that everything out there, in the Wilds, was too dangerous. That bloodthirsty beasts ran the forest at night, killing anything they came upon, and that pirates would kidnap you and sell you at slave markets.

  They said the world wasn’t what it used to be a couple of hundred years ago, back in the Glory Years, when there were great machines everywhere. Mechanical birds soared through the air and great metal boats cut through the oceans like whales, carrying people all over the world on their backs. And that was only the beginning of the stories I’d heard.

  So many people had been alive then that they’d lived in huge cities of towering buildings, and when they walked, they’d bang into each other accidentally.

  But then the Bloody Death came, wave after wave. And with each wave, the human race became weaker and weaker. Now? We’re hanging on to the bottom rung, prey to the beasts and all the other creatures that rose after the fall, and continued to rise.

  People said it was safer here, enclosed in five square miles of hell. But those people didn’t live my life. Maybe for them it was, but for me, death was preferable.

  Since I was a baby, I’d never been outside of those walls—until today. I’d take my chance again as soon as I got it. I wanted to run through the trees with no one watching and no one telling me when to stop or when to start. I wanted to be alone and away from here.

  And I had to get away soon. Worse was on its way.

  2

  I woke sometime near dawn to Baryn’s fingers digging into the fleshy part of my upper arm. Eyes barely open, I tried to untangle my legs as he dragged me after him toward the door.

  Ivan was waiting for him right outside the door, as always.

  “Put her in the circle,” Baryn said, and then went back inside.

  Ivan did the bulk of the dirty work and was a stellar employee, always doing his duty with a smile. I was handed off, this time by my hair, as I stumbled to keep from being scalped.

  Minutes later, I was chained to the post, a half-circle of stones around it. Three inches of iron bit into the skin of my wrist. The circle of shame, they called it. This was where they put you when you did something bad, which could be anything from glancing the wrong way or saying the wrong word.

  I settled in, leaning against the wood, knowing I’d be here for at least the day, if history told me anything.

  I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin upon them and letting white-blond hair curtain my face. People would be rising for their duties soon, and it was much easier to not see them than to pretend I hadn’t. It was mutually beneficial, as they didn’t want to pretend to not see me either.

  I’d gotten as comfortable as I could when Baryn’s door opened again. It had a very distinctive double bang when it closed, and his house wasn’t that far from the circle. Sometimes I wondered if he liked the view outside his window. I glanced over, and he had that look in his eyes as they met mine.

  I’d thought he was through with me for now. This wasn’t how things went. He’d beaten me. He’d done that thing. Normally he’d be content for at least a day and move on to some new amusement. Why was he walking out of his house and toward me?

  He paused, looking around the ground near the wooden wall. What was he doing? Maybe he was done with me? Except I’d seen that look. I knew that look. I’d had nightmares over that look.

  Suddenly he was on the move again, but this time in the opposite direction, and I sagged against the pole. It wasn’t until I saw the thick branch he picked up, saw him pivot back to me with it in his hand, that I truly panicked. Baryn liked to use his fists. He’d only used a branch one other time, when he didn’t think he could get the job done.

  I tried to pull my hand from the metal. It scraped over my skin, bunching it like crinkled fabric, but it wasn’t enough. I would’ve broken it if I could’ve. I would’ve done anything if it would’ve gotten me free.

  Baryn walked toward me with brisk steps now, determined in his path, the branch swinging at his side.

  Ivan, who had been twenty or so feet away, fell into step with him, as they both now charged in my direction.

  Baryn turned to Ivan. “Hold her down.”

  “Whatever you say.” Ivan turned to me, smiling widely and probably wishing he was going to wield the branch.

  Ivan’s steps nearing had me slicing skin from my wrist, but unless I could sever my hand, I was caught. Ivan’s foot was planted on my back, shoving me to the ground.

  “Flip her over,” Baryn said. “I want to watch her face as she gets what’s coming to her.”

  Crows cawed from their perches, mingling with Ivan’s laughter. He grabbed a shoulder, swinging me back around. A boot dug into already-hurt ribs and kept me there.

  Baryn took the thick branch in both hands, smiling as he swung at the air. “That will be the last time you run. Anywhere.”

  I should’ve shut up and lain there, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. That thing inside me, the piece that had broken free, kept saying, Don’t live small. Don’t let them rob you of what little you have left. If you’re going to die, so be it. At least do it on your terms. So, instead of shutting up and hoping he wouldn’t hurt me too badly, I smiled at him, even as my stomach churned and I choked on its acidic swell.

  I took the only swing at him I had left: “Do your worst now, because you won’t have much longer.”

  “Why is that?” he asked, white-knuckling the branch.

  “The Bloody Death will be coming for you soon. I can see you in a pile of your own shit and puke after you lie rotting for a week.”

  He smiled. “Liar. There hasn’t been an outbreak of the Bloody Death in years. First I’m dying from a weak heart, now it’s the Bloody Death.” He laughed like a man whose heart was shriveled and black.

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  He was right. He wouldn’t die either of those ways. I’d never tell him how he was going to die. Didn’t want to give him a chance to stop it.

  Baryn used his branch to point at me as he spoke to Ivan. “Don’t let her move. This takes very precise aim.”

  Ivan kept his boot steady, but he was no longer smiling or looking at me. He was afraid of what he’d hear was in store for him. His death was nowhere near as satisfying as Baryn’s, so he needn’t worry about me sharing.

  The branch came crashing down on my shin. First it stole the air from my lungs and then it stole the light from my eyes. If nothing else, I finally got the oblivion I’d longed for.

  I huddled on the ground, my back to the wooden wall that circled o
ur village, clinging to any break from the wind I could get. It was cold for fall, and even colder now that night had fallen again.

  People gave me a wide berth as they made their way home for the night, no one wanting to look my way and acknowledge me. If they did, they might feel like they had to do something. It was easier to not see me. I kept my eyes downward, so I didn’t have to watch the people walking past, pretending to not see me.

  The bowl of broth I’d been brought minutes earlier lay turned on its side a few feet away, after Ivan had accidentally bumped me.

  “Clumsy,” he’d said, before walking away.

  They wouldn’t starve me to death, though. Not on purpose, anyway. They’d already sold me.

  Tuesday, the only person left alive I cared a wink about, had overheard Baryn and Turrock, his brother, talking about how much they’d gotten for me. She didn’t know to whom I’d been sold, or maybe she didn’t want to tell me. Her refusal to look me in the eye was a sure sign she’d been holding back some of the details. No matter how I pressed her, she hadn’t said a peep. All she’d kept repeating was I had to leave. That was how I knew whatever was coming was really bad.

  Even though I had no supplies, or warm clothing to bear the brutal weather coming, after she told me, I’d decided to run the next moment I got a chance. The plan we’d concocted was flimsy at best, but all we had.

  Tuesday had flirted with the guard manning the gate, and I’d slipped out. Even knowing I’d most likely be caught. With my limp, speed wasn’t an option, but I’d been determined to escape.