Wilders: The Complete Trilogy

by Cass Kim

  Emerson raised one eyebrow when she called him a psycho but let her finish before saying calmly, “No, I don’t have a death wish. But we do have you.” He jerked a thumb toward Jeremy. “And that dude, who has kept it together pretty well all things considered. You both are still normal humans, in case you forgot.”

  “I didn’t forget.” Alyssa eyed Jeremy, waiting for him to protest or make a joke about how she wasn’t normal. He didn’t. He was too busy tearing at the wrapper on the protein powder jug next to him.

  Emerson followed her gaze and half shrugged, “Gotta work with what we have. Anyhow, we’ll get you as close as we can safely, and you guys can ask to talk to somebody higher up.”

  “Ugh. Because two raggedy teenagers walking out of the woods looking like total shit in the middle of the real apocalypse is not suspicious at all. I’m sure they’ll listen to us right away.”

  Emerson spread his hands in front of him. “You’re pretty good at making things happen. It’s the only shot we have.” His hand raked through his thick dark hair again, leaving the greasy strands sticking up in a weird fauxhawk. “So, we have to take it.”

  With a groan, Alyssa nodded her agreement. “Fine. But we’re eating before we go anywhere. I need something hot in my belly. We gotta make some of that powder soup I got or something.”

  Emerson gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, uh, sure. We can do that. If we’re avoiding the camp, it’s a pretty straight shot from here to your town. It’ll be a lot shorter this way.”

  “Good.” Alyssa gritted her teeth against the pain, unable to stop the whimper that escaped when she put weight back on her feet and knees. She’d never traveled so far in such a short time, and her body was not handling it well. Mind over matter. She wasn’t injured. She had a job to do. Limping over the cooler, she rummaged around to find the dried soup packets and a water jug.

  They could do this. They’d all be in better shape once they had some food in their stomachs. They had to be. There was no other choice.

  30

  Renna

  Renna waited when Syd to exited the portapotty. Syd would knock on the wood at the back if the coast was clear. Renna knew that as soon as she knocked, Syd would start off toward Royce’s personal storage tent.

  With nothing to do but hope for the best, Renna pulled the hood further over her head, hiding as much of her face as she could, before stepping out. Syd’s bundled up figure was bustling away, clearly able to be seen now that the snow had stopped falling. They’d hoped for heavier snowfall to start again, to help cover their tracks as they fled. No luck there. Hopefully, they’d have luck in all the other areas they needed it.

  Walking briskly, Renna headed to one of the group tents. Interesting that they let the remaining human-ish Wilders in camp stay together, in one of the old cabins at the edge of the woods. It seemed to her like begging for them to make plans. Maybe they assumed the deaths on the first day would keep everybody in line. Between the five on the supply run, the Kim’s cooperating, and the four that had been killed by Royce’s day one team, there were only three remaining Wilders that were functionally human. They were some of the earlier changes, so she hadn’t seen them talk. Maybe Royce had assumed they couldn’t. Maybe they truly couldn’t. Syd had warned that they’d dosed the other two Wilders that had been caught and subdued around the time she’d been changed. The ones that had been in the reinforced tents like Benjamin and put them in the group tent too.

  The guards standing at the entrance looked cold. Cold and bored, and entirely not expecting trouble. One had his weapon leaning a few feet away, propped against the tent, while the other huffed hot breath into his cupped hands. She kept on toward them, heading along the path as if to pass on her way elsewhere. Her heart rate picked up, adrenaline pumping into her veins. The staccato rhythm of her heart pulsed at her throat.

  Fighting down a preemptive twinge of guilt, Renna reminded herself that these could be the very same individuals that had shot and killed people from their camp. They could be the kind of men that enjoyed watching Royce Algin torture people that were different from them. At the very least, they didn’t mind being a part of it for a paycheck. That, she reminded herself, made them just as guilty.

  At the last instant, she pivoted toward the tent and burst into full Wilder speed.

  Before the closer man could turn, she snatched the rifle from the ground and smashed the butt end against his head.

  As he collapsed, she leaped, trying to do the same to the other guard but connected with his raised arms.

  Grunting with the effort, she reared back and struck his forearms with all her strength. She was rewarded with a howl of pain as the bones shattered. Horrified, both by what she was doing and by the noise he was making, she hauled back and whipped the gun butt into his head, careful to pull the strength from the blow. She didn’t want anyone’s death on her conscience. He crumpled next to his comrade.

  Renna tossed the gun to the ground, shaking hands feeling dirty. Swallowing down tears and knowing that she had to keep moving, keep going, she dragged one body at a time inside the tent. Once she turned to the occupants and saw their condition all guilt for hurting the guards dried up.

  Roughly searching through the guard’s clothes, Renna hissed as her hands connected with the metal of the key ring. Using that pain to push herself further, work faster, she gripped the keys and went to work freeing the other Wilders. Wishing she knew their names, knew something about them to remind them of their humanness, Renna kept her hands gentle as she unlocked heavy metal manacles from wrists that were raw from pulling at the cuffs. Murmuring soothing nothings to them, Renna unlocked manacles and wrapped nude forms in the blankets that, at some point, had been ripped from the beds and tossed in heaps on the floor.

  It was as she worked to free the last Wilder that she saw the clothing, folded neatly in the corner. What kind of monster strips people down to nothing, but stays to carefully fold the clothes?

  Nostrils flaring, Renna set the clothes in the middle of the tent and softly gave instructions. “You need to get dressed and get out. There are small stashes of warm layers out in the woods.” Syd had been stashing items throughout the past few days, even before she knew they’d have to leave like this. “They’re marked by X’s in the bark of the White Birch trees. They might have snow over them, but they’re in dry bags. Stay together as much as you can. Get warm. Hide out. We’re working on a plan.” Two of the Wilders must have been taken from their beds, because the had no shoes shoved under their cots. Frowning, Renna pointed to them and then to the guards. “Take their socks and their boots. You need something on your feet.”

  Part of her hated to leave them with no solid plan and such vague instructions. That was the plan, though, and Syd had done the planning. Who was she to question a genius? She stuck her head out and looked around for a long moment. Quiet. People were all in their tents and cabins, avoiding the chill as much as possible. Working on the next step in the cure. Good. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else. But she would, if she had to.

  With no more time to waste, Renna headed toward the tent Syd had described as Royce’s. Given that it was almost twice the size of any of the surrounding tents in the center area previously kept open for camp meetings, it was easy enough to spot. Careful to keep her speed at that of a normal human, she loped toward a nearby smaller tent in what she hoped looked like a casual, non-Renna walk. Each step she planted the foot in front and gave her tight muscles a small stretch before lifting and swinging the back leg in a dynamic swing to loosen up. Once this fire was set she would be sprinting at full Wilder speed. Her movements had felt tight when dealing with guards in that short burst of action. The last thing she needed was a pulled muscle while running away.

  Getting to the tent was almost too easy. She paused, bending over as if straightening her socks within the thick boots Syd had hidden in the outhouse. The look in Royce’s eyes as he’d warned them to be quick in using the bathroom spurred her forward a
fter a cursory glance around. Darting from the small tent to the behemoth Royce called home took less than four pounding heartbeats.

  Once there, Renna leaned toward the tent side, begging her heart to calm down so she could listen for any sounds inside. Royce was supposed to be with Dr. Kim. Syd had been sure that Emerson’s father would be able to keep him occupied for a minimum of fifteen minutes. Crossing her fingers, Renna held her breath and pressed her ear against the heavy nylon siding.

  Nothing.

  It was go time.

  Digging in the snow pile by the stick sitting lopsided against the back of the tent, Renna gripped the vial of gasoline stolen from one of the non-solar generators. Wrapping her fingers around the cold glass, she used the other hand to pat the tent back. There! She found the slit Syd had promised and tucked both hands into it. Pressing her arms apart, she ripped the nylon of the tent wider, big enough for her to scurry through.

  Popping into the warm interior, Renna breathed a long sigh of relief. She was hidden now. She was moments from fulfilling her part. Knowing that Syd would likely need more time to copy files onto her flash drive, Renna took her time piling together the blankets, the lantern and the many pockets of papers. Syd had promised the most important research had been hand copied by herself and the Kims, starting on day one. But what if she burned something that could save humanity? Or that could reverse the impact the virus made on her reproductive system? By her count it had been less than fifteen minutes. Syd would certainly need another few. Inside, where nobody knew she was, was the safest she would be for the next few days.

  Folding a cozy white blanket into her sweatshirt and zipping it in place, she settled onto the pile to flip through the notebooks. The neat, regimented handwriting looked exactly like what she’d expect of the always put together Botox Man. Rifling across pages of chemical symbols that made no sense to her and flicking through pages on pages of description of Wilders in various states and Changing, Renna swallowed hard.

  Nausea built as she passed trial after trial. Hundreds of humans used as experiments. Given how she’d been treated for just a few days, she could only imagine the treatment these received. Each trial ended the same. The experimental treatments caused horrific side effects and eventually death. A few cases were noted as terminated once they had no further value. Feeling sick, she skimmed page after page, across years of trials, all held in two thick notebooks of crisp handwriting.

  The burning anger started in her stomach, consuming the nausea. She stood and half-unzipped the hoodie, fanning her flushed face. With shaking hands, Renna placed the personal journals of the terror and illegal treatment of others by Royce Algin in her sweatshirt, carefully tucked into the folds of the fluffy white blanket. They were thick and weighty, but she was taking them with her.

  He would be held accountable. For each and every crime. Gripping the thinner notebooks piled on the table, she tore through the pages, looking for anything that showed research on reproduction. Hands shaking, ripping and shredding pages of useless information, of failed attempts, she piled all of it together in the middle of the small cot. Dousing the papers and blankets in gasoline, Renna was careful to create small trails from the cot to the nearest sides of the tent. It wouldn’t take long for the fire to spread. A dark part of her wished Royce Algin were trapped in the pile, strapped down as she had been. Tortured to death, as he had tortured so many.

  As if granting her wish, the tent flap zipped open just as she pulled out the water-proof match from the pack on his table, right where Syd had said it would be. Lifting her eyes, Renna saw the devil himself standing in the opening, snow flurries now swirling behind him. With a snarl, Renna took a step toward him.

  She was greeted by the muzzle of a gun, and the shadows of his ever-present guard blocking the light of day.

  31

  Alyssa

  Alyssa had no idea how Emerson could tell which way to go. The snowstorm had picked up out of nowhere. But he didn’t stop, barely slowed. He’d relented and allowed one of the coolers to be left behind. They’d consolidated the remaining one to the most essential items, and the four that could carry were switching off each rest break. It was her turn.

  The short hair beneath her hat was damp with sweat. For her the worst part was that, because they were all exhausted, all they wanted to do was rest. Except, when they took short breaks, the sweat cooled down, and if they stayed still for long, the shaking began.

  So the march became a miserable balance of moving for warmth and resting from pain. Jeremy hadn’t spoken since their soup. He just kept trudging forward. Probably scared that if he stopped he’d be left there to die.

  She was a little scared of that herself.

  The world was awash in white. A dark gray-white sky, dropping enormous clumps of heavy white snow. The trees were sparkling skeletons reaching toward the sky or green and white barriers to be walked around, adding extra steps to a path that was already too long.

  Hunching her shoulders up and adjusting her grip on the cooler handle, she kept plodding forward. One awful step at a time. She’d walk another hundred miles if she had to, to save Renna and Jammin. She’d walk until she collapsed. Then she’d crawl, until she got to them.

  Just one more foot at a time.

  32

  Renna

  The muzzle of the gun stopped her short, saving Royce Algin’s life. Renna stared into the dark center, waiting for the bullet to explode out. At Royce’s elegant two-fingered gesture, the gun lowered slightly.

  “We won’t kill you yet, little trouble-maker. Unfortunately for me, but perhaps fortunately for you, you remain at too high a value for my research to just dispose of. Though, I am certainly inclined to punish you for your behavior.” His falsely full lips turned down at the corners as he took in the ruins of the research in his room.

  Renna seethed, still too angry to be as scared as she should be. She bared her teeth at him, refusing to respond to his taunts with words.

  “Ah, and there is the animal inside. I know you like to play at being just as human as ever, pretending to be meek and gentle.” He stepped inside the tent further, his cronies following. “But each and every one of you has the Wilder inside, just waiting to come out. Waiting to crush, and tear, to bite into flesh and rip through sinew. It’s primal, and predatory. It’s beautiful.”

  His words bounced through her chest, reverberating through her scorching lungs. With her fury and adrenaline warring against her higher reasoning and self-preservation, yes. Yes, she did want to sink her hands into this man’s throat and tear until he could no longer make another word, take another breath.

  “You see,” he flashed his teeth in an icy smile, “I had wanted to create the perfect soldier. One that would go into battle with no fear, a wave of unstoppable wrath. Try dropping a cargo plane full of them into a rebellion in a country where we have a vested interest. Sure, there’d be mass casualties. But, we’d have the best weapons…and the most terrifying soldiers. That’s power. And the government pays well to keep their power.” He shrugged, a graceful lift and drop of sharp shoulders. “I was raised with money. Money and intelligence are my birthright. I wanted something that would be my own. That would solidify my place in history.”

  Renna growled, sick of his monologue. She eyed the soldiers, the distance between her and Royce Algin. “So you created a virus and tested it, ripping families apart and killing millions worldwide?” She said, and then spat at him.

  He stepped back, avoiding the wad of saliva and raising both sculpted brows. “You credit me too much, you mannerless hybrid. It was never my intention that the virus would spread the way that it did. Though, I admit, once I saw the potential, my focus shifted. Can you not see it? If Algin Pharmaceuticals was the first and only company to come up with the cure to the worst virus the world has ever seen. Well. I would not only be even richer, but I would be known as the savior of mankind. A true hero. My name would be in every history book.” His eyes were wide, almost manic. �
��I was so close to the cure. I was sure it was the right time to release the virus.”

  Renna inched back, toward the pile of gasoline-soaked papers and linens.

  He snapped out of his reverie. “Oh stop moving that way, the matches are over there.” He gestured to his desk. “Not that you would have to time to grab one and light it before I would have Jerry here shoot you.”

  Renna cocked her head, realizing he wasn’t aware of the match tucked in her fist. The match that had a green-tip, able to be struck on any surface to light.

  He chuckled, “Oh, you are strong but apparently not as bright as the company you’ve been keeping. I can smell the gasoline. It did not take me long to put the puzzle pieces together.”

  Suddenly fearing for Syd, alone and planning to invade this psycho’s deep dark secret tent, Renna burst out, “What puzzle pieces? What do you mean?” She had to find out if he knew about Syd’s full plan.

  “Your friend wanted to set you free. To get you out of here. I suspected Sydney would want to eventually. You, idiot that you are, instead sought revenge on me. Planning to light my tent on fire? How pedestrian.” He shook his head, clearly pleased to have her rapt attention, enjoying the moment. “I must admit I am disappointed in Miss Sydney Quick. I had hoped her desire for a cure would outweigh her friendship to you. You see, you truly are invaluable to my research. Not one to make the same mistake twice, I have been keeping an eye on your behavior together. The timing today, your not using the bathroom before the test when you clearly had to. Well, it spoke volumes.” He cleared his throat delicately before barreling on, “I made an error in judgement before, releasing the virus too widely, allowing it to adapt too quickly for my developed almost-cure. A lapse in judgement brought on by spending years waiting for the government to recognize the value of genetically engineered super-soldiers.” He sighed, raising his eyes to ceiling and opening his hands as if asking the world for an answer. “They have such few morals, who could have guessed the stopping point would be aggression enhancement through mutation of genetics? Frankly, I am a bit surprised they did not correlate the proposals I made with the eventual Wilders virus. I certainly would have sorted that puzzle years ago.”