The Wilds: The Wilds Book One

by Donna Augustine

  “I need you to tell me some things about the institution,” he said.

  It was my least favorite subject, but I nodded, curious where this was going. I’d been here for weeks. Why did he want to talk about the Cement Giant now? I’d thought he knew almost everything about the place anyway. What was left? “Shoot.”

  “How many Dark Walkers were there?”

  “I know you’ve been in a bad mood but I’m not sure if a friendly stroll around the grounds talking about them is going to fix you.” It certainly wasn’t a topic I cared to discuss. I could’ve gotten frostbite on my eyes from the look I got. The Dax I could joke around with was gone.

  “I need answers.”

  I was starting to understand why everyone was avoiding him. Deep down, I’d never been afraid of Dax, but I wasn’t sure I knew the man walking beside me.

  “There were five that were there somewhat regularly and others that came and went. Over the fourteen years I’d been there, I lost count.”

  “The others that came and went, who were they?”

  “A lot of times they came as government workers, similar to how you did. Some seemed higher up, although I couldn’t tell you their rank.”

  He was silent for a minute and I saw Bookie poking his head out of the barn. When he saw me walking with Dax he was probably trying to determine if we were still on. I gave him a thumbs-up when Dax looked the other way.

  I could tell Dax was almost done with me. As distant as he seemed, and even though I’d asked a couple of times already, I still had to ask again. “You have any interest in hitting the place with me when I bomb it?”

  He looked at me like he was talking to a stranger. “No,” he said. “Go do your run. That’s all I wanted.”

  What the hell? How did he know where I was going?

  Chapter 31

  I’d had more freedom in the last few days than I’d ever had in my life. Dax hadn’t called me to go hunting for Dark Walkers once. When he wasn’t scaring people away, he was nowhere to be found.

  He didn’t say anything or yell—that wasn’t his way—nor did he need to. People just scrambled out of his way when they saw him coming. Something had changed inside him and I didn’t know why. The only thing I knew was it had to be linked to the beast and what had happened that night.

  Even today, when I’d strolled back in from a run to the library, arms piled up with books, he’d said nothing. I’d done it on purpose, hoping to find a crack, and he’d barely glanced at me. He wasn’t at dinner again, like he hadn’t been every other night. The craziest part was every day he was like this, I felt like it was chipping away at something within me. It was getting so I couldn’t sleep at night, waking up from dreams where I felt like someone I’d cared for had just died.

  I’d woken again from another dream tonight that I couldn’t remember, but it had left me feeling just as empty as the last one. I dragged my tired body from bed when I knew sleep wasn’t going to come back for a while, figuring the only fix for this mood might be food.

  Dax was sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass in hand when I got downstairs. It was quiet, everyone sleeping, and I knew he must have heard the stairs creaking as I made my way down. Instead of heading toward the kitchen, I found myself walking toward him. I sat on the opposite chair from him and he didn’t so much as look at me. I should’ve left but I didn’t.

  “I’m going to have enough bombs to hit the institution soon. How much longer do you think you’ll need me?”

  “You can leave whenever you’re ready. I’ll show you where I have the other explosives hidden tomorrow if you want.” He took a sip from the glass he was holding.

  It wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. No warning of impending doom and my imminent death. Just go when you want. I searched his eyes, looking for some flicker of the man I’d known before.

  Even now, I could feel the cold coming off him, but it wasn’t a kind that just left you chilled. I recognized this feeling. I’d felt this in others at the compound. I’d felt it creeping in myself at times. It was the type of cold that robbed you of all the warmth you’ve ever had. In my experience, it usually came when the person lost the last little piece of themselves, that small part they’d held on to that they couldn’t afford to lose.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice hushed. He finally looked at me.

  “Drinking,” he said, holding up his glass and knowing that wasn’t what my question had been about and still not looking at me.

  I stood up, walked over and stopped right in front of him so he couldn’t avoid seeing me. It pissed him off, and I was happy to have any emotion that wasn’t the cold.

  That tiny crack revealed a volcano buried beneath the surface. I could practically smell the danger coming off him, and I thought back to what Fudge had said to me about not poking the bear. But even all growly as he was looking right now, his teeth about to curl into a snarl, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. All those years in the Cement Giant had done that to me. I’d take death by fire over a long, slow chill any day.

  “I don’t know what that was about in the forest and I won’t ask. It’s your business. But don’t do this. Don’t become this person,” I said without thinking, desperate because of what I sensed he was losing, confused why I even cared so much. “I thought you were stronger than this.”

  “Dal.” It was a warning—a yellow flag telling me to back up and leave him alone, mind my own business. I decided to ignore it.

  “What? Too weak to handle the truth?” I said, taunting him right to the edge, where I wanted him to be. Anything but what he’d been lately, because as I stood before him my own truth hit me stronger than anything I’d said to him. I wanted him out of control because I wanted him, period. Out of control might be the only way I could get him.

  “I think you should go to bed.”

  “I guess you’re only good at dishing it out.”

  He was out of his chair and grabbing me by the shoulders, crushing me between him and the wall. His body was flush against mine and I tilted my head up, my lips parting without conscious effort.

  “You want to be real? Stop looking at me the way you are. I’ll never be that man, and you won’t be the first wreckage I leave behind,” he said.

  “Maybe I don’t have a heart either.” It was a stupid thing to say, but at that moment, if that was what it took for him to take me, I wished it were true.

  He smiled but it wasn’t one filled with hope. This one held nothing but sorrow. “Don't change. Not for me.” His fingers tightened on my shoulders. “What you’re looking for doesn't exist here.”

  His hands dropped, and he left, leaving me sagging against the wall.

  Chapter 32

  “What are we looking for?” Bookie asked as we traipsed around the old library on our way back from emptying the last of the bombs from the shelter. We’d already found a pile of books on explosives, but I’d told him that there was one more book we needed.

  I stepped cautiously over piles and overturned bookcases until I landed next to a pile of fiction. “It’s hard to explain exactly, but in the Glory Years, they were called Urban Fantasies.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, digging through a pile nearby.

  “Best bet is to look for a cover with a woman who looks like they’re going to beat someone up. Maybe skintight black clothes that are really shiny.”

  “That’s weird. You like them?”

  “Yes, because the main characters usually kick ass and don’t get walked on.”

  “Can’t imagine why that would appeal to you,” he said. Bookie was allowed to mock me. He’d become one of my best friends.

  I dug through my pile and I hit gold by my fourth book. “I got one!”

  He looked at the cover. “That cover looks like the girl’s going to a funeral. That’s not what I was supposed to look for,” he said, sounding put out I’d found it first.

  “This isn’t the norm but it’ll work.”

  “Wh
at did you need it for?”

  “You have a pencil on you?” I asked, still kneeling by my pile as he made his way over.

  “Don’t I always?” he said, and pulled one out of his back pocket.

  I flipped to the title page.

  To Destiny,

  May the moon shine bright and the breeze hit your face.

  I scribbled out the author’s name beneath it.

  “That’s the sign?” he said, reading over my shoulder.

  “Yes. Once we figure out the exact date we’re going to attack, I’ll go through and underline page numbers. The first two will be the month, the next two will be the day and the last four will be the year, just to be thorough, since you never know what could happen.

  “I know where the guard who sneaks the books to my one friend hangs out. He was going to find this one night and not think anything of it as he’s giving it to her the next day. She’ll know what to do when it happens.” I hugged the book to my chest, thinking of Margo. I’m coming soon, so you better not give up. “I have to get it to her before we blow the place up.”

  “You planned this all while you were still in there?”

  “Every little part. Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of downtime.”

  I tucked the book in my pocket and we headed out. I was so close to getting my friends it almost seemed surreal. I tucked the book into the wagon we had hitched to the bike, reworking the straps over the tarp that covered everything. After a couple of trips, we’d gotten a bit more organized about the business. Plus, we’d also read up on some of the stuff we were carting and now knew how close we’d come to blowing ourselves up.

  We were about ten miles from the compound when the bike hit something and came to a dead stop beneath us. Bookie and I kept moving. I flew over the handlebars and hit various things on my venture through the air—a couple of branches and then Bookie himself as I flew past. As I flew through the air, everything was sharp and clear. I heard the sounds of at least one of the explosives blowing. By time I landed, I’d lost the use of one arm, my head was wavering in and out of fuzziness and my ears were ringing.

  “Bookie?” I yelled, hoping he’d survived the fall. I didn’t know if he answered or not. I couldn’t hear myself.

  I rolled onto my stomach, trying to use the good arm to prop myself up when boots appeared in front of my face. I recognized those boots. They were part of the Newco guard uniform.

  My hurt arm was wrenched roughly as the rags were torn from my attached hand. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I was quickly pulled to my feet. There were five of them that I saw as I was half dragged, half carried away. I didn’t see Bookie, but I’d stopped calling for him. He was better off left here than where I was going.

  They shoved me toward a truck not far away and the pain in my arm and head made me want to retch, but I passed out before I did.

  ***

  When I woke up, I was lying on the floor in the back of their truck, and my hearing had returned. It had one of those canvas covers and the rear was wide open so I could see the night sky. Three guards sat on the bench next to me, their boots near my head along with the butts of their guns. Bookie wasn’t there, and I hoped he wasn’t dead. We’d been pretty close to home. Someone would’ve heard the explosion and hopefully was getting him help.

  I was pretty sure I’d be on my own. If Bookie was alive, I doubted he was going to be up for a rescue mission. No one else would come. I was on my own and that was fine. I’d made it most of my life that way.

  I lay there and took stock. The pain in my arm told me without moving it that it was damaged beyond use, every jostle of the truck shooting a new wave through my arm. Luckily for me, I was good with my left as well. My knife was still tucked into a boot, covered by my pants. They must not have bothered to check me. But I’d only be able to take out one of them, not three. My knife had one final throw, so I might as well make it count and land it in a worthy target. These guys weren’t worthy enough.

  When we finally stopped, I wasn’t given privacy to go to the bathroom but forced to relieve myself in front of them or not at all.

  The guards sitting in the back of the truck with me alternated. Other than bathroom stops, we kept moving. I was given a few ration bars a day and a canteen to drink from. No one spoke as we drove day and night.

  My hope of escaping them dwindled more each day, reaching a new low on day three when I saw the gates of Newco from the back. An hour later I felt worse as I heard the brakes squeal right before I watched as the Cement Giant swallowed us whole.

  Inside I was screaming that I couldn’t do this again, but there was no one to scream it to. There was no other choice. I was going to have to.

  I was guided through the building and down the halls into a room I knew so well. They didn’t bother putting me in the chair but dumped me on the floor. I didn’t bother getting up, just slumped there and thought of Dax and how he’d been so cold. He’d told me that was how I’d need to be to survive. Maybe he was right, because all these emotions and desperation and a sadness that stretched so deep within me I couldn’t see around it weren’t going to help me survive. I wanted to shut them all down, wished I could.

  Ms. Edith walked into the room, white jacket over her dark suit, hair slicked back. At the sight of her, I realized I had one emotion I could work with, and it was anger.

  She walked over to her chair and sat down. “You really thought you could get away?”

  I had. Now look at me. I couldn’t run and I wasn’t delusional enough to think Dax would be breaking me out a second time. I was going to die here. I had nothing good left to lose but rage to spare. My knife’s final throw had found its target.

  I forced myself into a sitting position with my back against the wall.

  “What are you?” I asked, ready to lay it all out there.

  Her head kinked sideways in the most unnatural movement I’d ever seen. “So, you admit that I look different to you?”

  “You look like a monster that just crawled out of a swamp, you creepy fuck.”

  Her head twitched again, as if her natural movements weren’t smooth at all. “I’m just a regular human, Dal.”

  “Kill me if you want, but for one time, let’s just lay it on the table. You’re not human. What kind of sick shit are you and your people?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She leaned forward in a funny way again. “I wish I could tell you what you wanted to hear, no matter what it might do to your fragile sanity. But I’m human.”

  She wanted me to know she was something more. It was obvious by the way she moved, but she couldn’t tell me. So she wasn’t the top dog in charge. I’d heard that the Plaguers before me had said there were Dark Walkers in some very high places. So I wouldn’t be killing the leader. It would still be worth it.

  My opportunity came quicker than I’d imagined. The door opened to one of the guards I’d traveled with, several more standing behind him. She looked over for a mere second. That was all I needed. I drew my knife and threw it, watching as it flew true and nailed her in the middle of her chest.

  There was shock on her face, and the guard who’d been in the middle of speaking and the ones behind him hadn’t even realized something had happened yet.

  They froze just long enough that I could hear her say with her last breath, “They’ll never let you go. You’re the key. You’re doomed anyway.”

  She hadn’t even gripped the knife, but accepted her fate. Her head lolled back and it finally jolted the guard into action as he ran in and the others behind him followed.

  Her death would have to be enough satisfaction to last me the rest of my life, what little there would be left now.

  Chaos erupted quickly as I stayed leaning against the wall, catching glimpses of my handiwork as they all filed in.

  “Sir, what the hell—” I heard one guard say as he was staring down at Ms. Edith.

  “Where did that knife come from? Didn’t anyone check her?�
�� he asked, pointing at me.

  The other guard just stammered.

  “Throw her in the hole until we figure out what to do about this.”

  “I think she’s valuable, sir. They wanted her badly.”

  “The hole won’t kill her.”

  They talked back and forth but I didn’t care what they said anymore. She’d said they’d never let me go. Even if I somehow managed to get free again, I’d be on the run for the rest of my life. There would be no big house for me and my friends, no pretty curtains hanging over windows framing forests. I was doomed.

  They grabbed me and dragged me out of the room, and I didn’t fight. Not when I felt the air on my face or when I was dropped into the eight-foot ditch. I didn’t cry when the lid was lowered over it—only a tiny hole, not even six inches wide, was left to see the world above.

  The walls were stone; the ground under me packed dirt. I could scale the walls when I was in better condition, but not like this. It didn’t matter, though, since the lid was too heavy for me to lift. I’d tried the last time I’d been thrown in here.

  I would die here. And even if I didn’t, there was nowhere left to go. The Dark Walkers were everywhere, the country and the Wilds. And they wanted me. I’d been on borrowed time all along, just waiting until word spread. All those Dark Walkers I’d seen would be hunting me for a reason I didn’t even understand.

  Chapter 33

  Days blended together when you were in the hole, and the eight-foot square became your entire world. If you didn’t make a mark on a stone or the ground, you lost track of how long you were there as the hours blended together. The guard had said “they wanted me,” but “they” were taking a long time getting me.