by Sean Platt
“I don’t let them do shit. It’s where Ryan’s father brought him.”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out for Daddy Dearest.” Wolf looked around for his sword, found it leaning against the wall beside him where he vaguely remembered trying to open an old can of beans, and slipped it into a sheath on his back. “Okay, I’m going.”
“I’m coming with you,” Mike said.
“Me too,” added Reese.
“No,” Mike said, trying to boss the young woman around. “He’s my nephew. And it’s my fault that his father is gone. You stay here.”
“But …”
“That’s an order. You stay here and make sure no one leaves their house or looks out their windows.”
“Yes, sir,” Reese said, before leaving the bar.
He considered telling them both to stay put, but Mike knew where the fishing hole was and Wolf didn’t.
He sighed, feeling the weight of his blade as he stood.
Escort missions were always a great way for fuckers to die.
The rampart edging The Ruins had moved off the mountain, encroaching south with the storm raging into the village. Seemed like the entire universe had been dipped in lavender and amethyst, making Wolf feel like he might be tripping balls. Too bad he wasn’t.
“Take my hand,” he offered, approaching the spot where they hoped the children might be.
“Do I have to?” Mike asked.
“You think I want to move your little spigot from six to midnight? How about we both ignore your obvious arousal and I help you stay sane?” He made his hand more insistent. “Your call.”
Mike reluctantly took his hand, then held it tight.
Wolf didn’t much care for the asshole and wanted to play this game of paralytic pat-a-cake even less than he did. Mike was a loudmouth Ranger who could hold his liquor about as well as he’d held onto his brother. The dickhead got drunk too often, and started bitching and moaning about losing his brother every time, despite everyone in Riverside knowing it was his own goddamned fault that Jack got lost to The Ruins.
He wasn’t sure how things went down exactly, since Mike cast himself as the hero in every one of his little fairytales, but two men walked into Ruins and only one of them left. So the only question in Wolf’s mind was whether Mike had turned into a soaking wet pussy before or after his brother had fallen to a Lost One’s allure.
“Where are they? What’s happening? Why are we moving so slowly?” Mike asked questions like a brain-damaged toddler as they moved through the stew of fog, his voice echoing back on itself, time dancing to an offbeat mambo like it always did on the outskirts.
Deeper inside The Ruins the world was closer to normal. But out here in the periphery shit got weirder than a plate of wasabi waffles.
Wolf was the only one, outside a small battalion of batshit monks who could enter The Ruins without thoroughly losing their minds. That’s why most people thought he was an Alt. Wolf didn’t think so, but then again, what the hell did he know? He could barely remember anything before a few years ago. Whether it was the time or the booze or the drugs, his memories had mostly gone missing.
But fuck it. Yesterday was gone. Wolf lived in the here and right fucking now. He made excellent money entering The Ruins, escorting those folks foolish enough to be searching for someone, or something. He didn’t mind looking for things, looting the Old City for parts and whatnot. But a safari for people never ended well. A soul surrendered to The Ruins became one of the Lost.
If Wolf believed in a God, he might have prayed that the kids escape that particular fate. But Wolf knew better than to count on God for anything.
“Ryan!” Mike shouted. “Caleigh!”
Wolf squeezed his hand and growled, “Shut the fuck up. You want those things coming to us?”
“They’re harmless unless you look, right?”
Not exactly. They were only harmless if they’d been Lost for a while, with their minds already gone mushy. Fresh Lost were crazed and incredibly dangerous.
“They’re not the only thing in here,” Wolf said. “Now close your eyes.”
“Why? You see them?”
“I see something. Now shut your peepers unless you want this to be the last thing you ever see.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest and dared the man to defy him.
Mike swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes tight.
Wolf saw shapes in the fog ahead, standing still, like the Lost tended to do.
Please don’t be the kids.
They slowly approached.
Then Wolf saw something that made him lick his lips and wish for a beer, not that any amount of drinking would ever wash the image away. “Fuck.”
“What?” Mike’s voice found an unfortunate pitch.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
“Did you find them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s get them.”
Wolf’s silence said everything.
But Mike was an idiot. “What?”
“We’re too late.”
His face broke into something almost worth feeling sorry for. “No … are they … are they Lost?”
“Worse.”
“What?”
“Dead.”
“What?”
“Keep your goddamned eyes closed.”
“I need to see.”
“No!” Wolf snapped, squeezing his hand even tighter.
But there was nothing he could do to change the truth that Mike was a moron. The man opened his eyes and saw the same thing as Wolf had.
The kid’s father staring at them.
The boy was on all fours, looming over the girl, his mouth full of her entrails.
“F-fuck,” Mike gasped.
Ryan looked up, his eyes a milky white.
And he raced toward them, almost at a gallop, growling as he went.
Mike stumbled backward, speechless as the boy was moments from mauling him, and maybe tearing out his throat.
Wolf’s sword was already in his hand.
A broad swing and he struck the Lost child, slicing its head clean from its shoulders.
The headless body fell to the ground, blood spurting onto the dirt as the child’s severed skull rolled like an abandoned ball toward Mike.
He stared down in horror as the still-open eyes met his.
Fuck.
Too late.
Mike was already turned.
He was on his feet, growling and scrambling toward Wolf, hands almost claws, swiping at the escort’s face.
Wolf sidestepped him, raising the sword as his new enemy regained balance.
“I don’t wanna do this, but I can’t let you go back into town,” Wolf said.
The man turned toward Riverside as if he’d not thought of going there until Wolf put the seed in his head.
Mike broke into a run.
“Fuck!” Wolf growled, then gave chase.
Either Mike was faster than his appearance suggested, or Wolf was drunker than he’d thought, because Mike was at least twenty-five feet ahead of him as they approached the village and Wolf was panting hard, sucking air through his teeth while trying not to lose him.
He had to put the man down before someone saw him.
Mike reached the short row of homes closest to the edge of the village, passing by two Lost Ones who’d wandered in with the storm.
Mike made it to his sister-in-law’s house and was about to reach for the knob when Wolf finally caught up and drove a long blade through the back of his skull, sending his husk to the blood-covered ground.
Wolf used his leverage to wrench the man away from the door and drive him backwards, into the woods. Once out of sight — not that any of the villagers were outside in the storm — Wolf grabbed the corpse, carried Mike back to the fishing spot, then dumped his body next to his niece and nephew.
He walked back to town, grabbed a shovel from Stan’s shed, and started digging a hole as Jack sat there, mindlessly watching. Wolf tried not to notice the
vegetation growing from his skin, the plant tendrils blooming from one of his nostrils and winding into his mouth. Wolf could look at blood and guts all day without batting an eye, but that shit disgusted him.
“This is your fucking fault I’m here digging this goddamned grave.”
Jack just stood there, staring at him.
“The fuck you go in there for?” Wolf looked around theatrically. “I don’t see no signs advertising free cock-swallowing.”
Jack kept staring.
Once the hole was deep enough, Wolf threw Mike’s corpse into it, then gently laid the children beside him. He’d considered bringing the kids to town, but if their momma saw them like that, the mutilated bodies would be burned in her brain forever. Better for her to think they were Lost.
As Wolf laid Caleigh to rest, he had a flash of another dead teenage girl. Someone he’d once cared about. Someone from his unremembered life before his recent stint in Riverside.
The suppressed pain flooded him again, the suffering of loss without memory still haunting him like a curse. Wolf only knew that a part of him was desperate to die, while another part of him refused to surrender.
Inches from Jack, he said, “Kill me. End this now.”
But Jack just stared dumbly back at him.
“What good are you?” Wolf unsheathed his sword. “I think you should join them.” Then he thrust the blade through Jack’s head to end his cursed existence.
Wolf buried him with his children and brother, then walked back to town dreading this next part, telling Colleen that her kids and brother-in-law were gone.
She was already alone in a very lonely world.
Deed done, it was time for this Wolf to get drunk.
Two
Elijah Freeman
Hope Springs
* * *
Elijah entered the dojo trying to hide his anxiety.
Joe shuffled slowly through the doorway behind him. “You sure you want to do this? There’s no reason you can’t stay in the junior class if—”
“No, it’s time to move up.”
“Yeah, but … look at ya,” Joe teased. “It’s based on size, and it just ain’t right putting you up against the others. I’m sure Pascal will let you stay in juniors. Just—”
“No, I’m sixteen now. I’m tired of fighting the same kids. I want to do this.”
Joe, who was six-foot-six and nearly a foot taller than Elijah, didn’t understand. He was fifteen, but had been fighting in the Cadet class for a year thanks to his size. People didn’t question Joe’s ability or laugh behind his back, even though he wasn’t especially skilled. Elijah was faster than anyone he’d ever grappled with. He’d lost a few matches by points, but nobody in Juniors had ever managed to make him submit.
Yet, everyone dismissed him.
A group of older boys gathered around a sparring match glanced over as they entered. Hunter eyed Elijah and whispered something to the guy beside him. They laughed.
Joe said, “Don’t let them bother you. He’s still pissed that his dad got banished.”
“His dad was a thief. He broke The Code. No need to take it out on me. At least he and his mom don’t have to join him in The Slums.”
Pascal, the Ranger in charge of the classes — a mix of judo, wrestling, and other Ranger fighting skills — walked over, intimidating as usual in his all-black uniform.
“Hey, Joe. We’re grappling today. You can match up with Sam. And … Elijah, you’re a bit early. Juniors isn’t until four.”
“I want to fight now.”
“What? This is Cadets.” His eyebrows arched, and Pascal looked like he was about to point out Elijah’s size. Instead he stopped short.
“I’m sixteen. I can’t keep fighting kids forever.”
“What did your mother say?”
Elijah lied. “My parents both said it’s okay.”
Pascal looked incredulous.
Hunter and his friends were all laughing.
His face burned hot as Elijah shot them a glare.
Pascal glanced back at Hunter and the others. They fell silent as he turned back to Elijah and studied his student. “You sure about this?”
“You know I’m ready.”
Pascal ran a hand through his blond hair. “As long as it’s okay with your parents.”
Elijah nodded.
“Okay, then. Let’s get started.” Pascal turned and walked toward the center mat.
Elijah smiled at Joe.
There were eleven other Ranger Cadets in the dojo, which was all but the most out-of-shape or sorriest of boys in Hope Springs. This was five more than in the Junior ranks, and all of the boys were much larger and stronger than Elijah.
He wasn’t worried about getting hurt, but he was afraid of making a fool of himself. What if Hunter or one of the others was faster than him? Faster and stronger would put him at a serious disadvantage. It seemed unlikely that they would have more speed, given that none of them were Altered.
Elijah stood by himself watching as Joe grappled with Sam, the only other black Cadet. Joe was taller, but Sam was faster and more athletic. He had Joe on the ground in a chokehold in seconds.
He tapped and Sam let him go, then offered a hand, helping Joe to his feet.
Joe returned to his spot beside Elijah. “Damn. I choked.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Nah. He always beats me. He and Hunter are the only two who win every time. I just didn’t wanna go down that fast.”
“Don’t worry, nobody will remember your embarrassment once I’m done.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“No, I meant they’ll be talking about how amazing I was. They might even demote you back to Juniors.”
Joe laughed. “Or maybe you’re not hard enough.”
Pascal went to the center of the mat and called for a volunteer.
Elijah raised his hand.
“Elijah Freeman, come forth.”
Elijah walked to the center, mad that Pascal invoked his last name, signaling to the room that they should go easy on the mayor’s son.
“Who would like to take on our newest Cadet?” asked Pascal.
Nobody raised their hand.
Elijah’s heart pounded as doubt swam through him.
What the hell have I done?
They see me as a kid. They won’t even fight me.
Joe raised his hand in pity.
Pascal shook his head. “No, you just went, Joe. Anybody else want to volunteer or do I have to call on someone?”
Still, no volunteers.
Pascal looked discouraged. “Does nobody want to take on this Cadet?”
“Sorry, sir,” Hunter shot back. “I didn’t know we were letting girls into the Cadets now.”
Pascal was suddenly in front of Hunter, barking, “First of all, you will not disparage girls because they are not in the Cadets. There are a few in town that would gladly join if The Code allowed it, and a couple that I’m fairly certain would make you eat your words.”
Hunter’s wide, flat face went pale as he looked anywhere but into Pascal’s eyes.
“Second, do not underestimate an opponent simply because of their size. Mr. Freeman here has yet to lose a match in Juniors.”
Hunter said nothing, staring at Elijah with a blank expression.
Pascal grabbed Hunter by his ear and pulled him toward the center of the mat. “Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Cobb.”
Hunter’s eyes went wide as his face flushed in anger.
Pascal backed away. “Gentlemen, take your positions.”
Elijah and Hunter moved toward opposite edges of the circle, then traded bows.
Pascal said, “Commence in three, two, one. Go!”
Hunter’s eyes fixed on Elijah as a maniacal grin ate his face.
Then he rushed Elijah, arms out, attempting to grapple him.
Elijah dashed to the side and out of the way.
Hunter stumbled past him. A few of his friends
laughed. He regained his footing, turned, and glared at Elijah.
Elijah smiled back, egging him on: Not as easy as you thought it would be.
Hunter nodded, then came at him again. This time he grabbed Elijah’s shoulders and brought him to the floor.
Elijah tried to squirm free before Hunter got him in a lock or hold.
But Hunter was too fast. And too strong.
He got Elijah in a chokehold and smashed his face into the ground. Hunter’s weight was a mountain atop Elijah as panic swelled in his chest and left him sucking air through his teeth. He tried to wriggle free, but Hunter was too heavy.
“Get off,” Elijah gasped.
“Submit.”
Elijah refused.
He felt trapped.
He couldn’t breathe.
His heart was a winding gear, twisting tighter and tighter, about to burst.
He had to escape before Hunter crushed him.
“Submit,” Hunter repeated.
Elijah’s vision faded in a bright flash of terror, certain he was about to die. Something exploded inside him and—
* * *
Elijah’s head was spinning, disoriented.
He looked around the dojo to find everybody staring at him.
What happened? asked Pascal in his head.
He and Pascal were the only ones who shared a psychic link, even though there were a couple of other Alts in Hope Springs.
I don’t know, Elijah thought back.
Hunter was across the room, slowly rising to his feet.
Everybody was staring at Elijah with a mix of fear and concern.
“You freak!” Hunter cried out.
Pascal came rushing to Elijah’s side, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay?”
“Is he okay?” Hunter cried. “Damned Alt nearly killed me.”
Pascal ignored him, looked Elijah up and down, then helped him to stand. “Slowly.”
Elijah had no idea what just happened. Other than he’d somehow pushed Hunter off of him, and across the room. But he had no idea how.
One minute he was panicking, then the next he felt something inside him. An explosion like nothing he’d ever experienced. The only power Elijah had ever demonstrated before now was sensing things and moving slightly faster than other people. But even that had been minimal. He was far from superhuman.