by Eve Langlais
With the night possessing the forest, bringing it to life, Axel moved quickly, deeper into the thick growth of trees. Needing to find a place, the right kind of place where he could sit down and concentrate.
It took more time than he liked to find the right kind of spot, brimming with life and energy. He sat on a rock , cross-legged, his hands on his knees. Eyes closed, he took in deep breaths. In. Out. Inflating his chest. Deflating it. The relaxation exercises were meant to focus him. Once he’d reached a calm state, he opened the door that kept it locked away.
His wildness.
His other.
What Laura would call his Deviance.
He let it out, allowed it to consume him that he might become the thing the domes taught was wrong. He’d told Laura the truth when he said they were all Deviant in some way. Some more than others.
Everyone’s power developed a little differently. His triggered when he was young, before his uncle found him, after his parents died.
They perished on the edge of this forest as a matter of fact. Enclave guards chased them, shot out the wheels of their vehicle. His mother had dragged him from the car and screamed at him to run.
“Run, Axel. Run and don’t look back.” But he had looked back. In time to see his father face off against the patrol, firing his pistol. Such a puny weapon against their massive guns.
His father’s head exploded, and the body collapsed.
Axel’s mother ran for them screaming.
Bang. The silence screamed. The frozen moment lasted forever as the two patrol soldiers turned their gazes on him.
He’d run. Run into the forest, too scared to cry, too scared to stop.
Little Axel ran until he collapsed, a heaving, sobbing mess, face buried in a pile of leaves. It took a while to calm himself and realize he lived. He didn’t hear anyone. Nothing but his own heavy breathing.
He’d escaped. Which was when he’d rolled to his back and seen the eyes. Yellow and steady, watching him.
Even then he recognized it. His father had taught him. It was a wolgar. Savage creatures, a mixture of ancient wolves—now extinct—and some kind of feline. They’d appeared in the forest a few generations ago. No one knew from where.
Scary bastards because they were smart. They were also merciless. A young boy should have died that day in front of that wolgar.
A scared Axel trembled but did not look away. They engaged in a staring match, one that went deeper than just their physical bodies.
It extended to a level that spoke with no voice.
You trespass.
I had no choice.
Where is your pack?
I lost my pack. Axel briefly thought of his parents being killed.
The wolgar chuffed. You are without pack.
I am alone.
The wolgar abandoned Axel. Left that night with the other staring yellow eyes. But they were back the next night and the next.
Watching.
Just watching, as he failed to capture anything to eat. When he cried himself to sleep.
He’d only been maybe five years old at the time.
The third night was when he realized the wolgars were protecting him. A serpentine body dropped from the tree, landing with a hiss, ready to strike. The pack leader pounced and tore it to shreds.
He left the body behind. Axel ate it raw, gagging. The next day, he trekked back the way he came.
The wolgar leader emerged from the bushes to ask, Where do you go?
I need… He needed supplies. The Enclave soldiers had long left. The bodies of his parents were gone. Either claimed by the guards or dragged off by animals.
A bitter blessing, as it made going through the wrecked vehicle easier. He grabbed his knapsack and added stuff to it. Mini torch for fire, which he knew how to use. Father taught him how to survive outside. Food, the travel rations not tasty but they would serve if needed. Water. Not enough. He’d need to locate a source. Mature thoughts for a little boy. But no one living in the Wasteland was ever truly young and carefree. Survival was always at the tenet of every choice.
When Axel was done, he headed back into the woods. At the edge of it, the old wolgar joined him.
Now we hunt. With old brother as his teacher. For in the pack, everyone was brother and sister.
When Axel managed his first kill, the wolgars officially declared him pack. He had a new family, and he thrived. Still, the life he lost haunted him.
Ten years he spent with the pack before his uncle came along and found the wild boy.
He still remembered crouching in the tree and looking down at the oddly familiar male, who’d glanced at the boy and simply said, “Hello, Axel. A lady I know who sees things told me I’d find you here.”
Curious about the world outside the forest, Axel went with his uncle. But he never broke the ties with the wolgar. He visited them often. And made them stronger.
Amazing how they could thrive with a little medical helping hand. Their numbers had increased over the years. Axel might not have met every single addition, but all the wolgars in the pack knew of him.
They would come if he called.
Axel shut down his ears to the noise. Closed his senses to everything around him and listened for the pulse of The Wild.
Thump. A slow steady feeling. It vibrated around him.
Thump.
The sluggish beat of the Earth communicated through the connected roots. Night was here, and yet these trees weren’t alive in the same ways as the Seimor. This was the tip of Ajatarai Forest. A place that most resembled the Forests of Old Earth.
The trees’ bark was rough, the leaves thick and green. The smells of decay and growing things pleasant and ugly at the same time.
The animals in these woods were copious, the wolgar being only one species. The forest spanned farther than his maps showed. No one had ever explored the far edge and returned. The world wasn’t a kind place to travelers. Dead spots that killed electronics. Places with large avian predators with thick leathery wings breathing fire and lightning to any who dare try and pass over their mountains.
The forest was vast. Frightening. Violent. Alive.
And in many ways, home.
He relaxed and searched, his mind questing, coasting in the thick ether of The Wild forest, searching far and wide for specific sparks. When he found one, he nudged its awareness. Somewhere in the forest, a head lifted, and a yip sounded.
He pushed at that spark.
It roused and replied, Brother, you have returned.
Axel might have chosen to live with the other two-legged beasts, but his connection to the pack remained.
Help me. The kind of speech he used with the pack didn’t need words or lengthy explanations. The mind of the pack saw things as one in that moment. Saw his need. Answered his call.
As the night deepened, they came from everywhere, flowing out of the shadows, furry beasts with the yellow glinting eyes. Some looked very wolf-like with their strong builds and thick tails, others leaning toward the feline side with the more rounded heads and the limber grace. They came at his call, padding to join him as he stood on a knoll at the edge of the forest, staring at the strip of land separating them from the dome. If they had proper security, they’d be watching that strip. Watching for any attacks.
Which was why he needed a distraction. However, holding himself back didn’t prove easy.
Especially when the mental shriek hit.
Make it stop. Nooooo.
He recognized the voice. Felt the stab of her pain. The agony, before it snuffed out.
Forget patience. He ran. And the pack ran with him.
Since he couldn’t count on Gunner or even Casey providing an early distraction, he’d need to find a way in that wouldn’t get noticed. As far as he knew, the domes had only one entrance. Great for defending against invaders and keeping everyone inside.
Before he could even think of storming the front door, he needed to make it across the barren strip without raising an alarm.
He closed his eyes and once more let The Wild roll through him. Let it fill him with the ether of the forest. Let it remind him what it meant to be a creature of shadow and stealth. When the fog rolled from the forest, an ally in this fight, he and the pack traveled inside it.
Not a sound was uttered as they padded across the barren land, but within his mind, one of his brothers spoke.
There is another entrance.
His brother, grizzled and wise, was familiar with this area around the forest. He showed Axel a vision of a sludge-filled ditch, the sewer from the dome spilling into the Wasteland, feeding a bottomless crack.
“Show me where it is.”
Despite being blinded by the fog, the pack veered, and he followed, his pace a steady lope until he could smell their destination on the wind.
The scarf masked the worst of the stench but couldn’t hide the stain of the sludge where it formed a slimy streak before spilling over the edge. Of more interest, the concrete tunnel spewing the filth, the opening covered by bars easily removed, the rancid ooze within ankle deep.
He eyed it. “Are you sure this is the only way?”
The pack brother inclined his head. Wait.
A good thing they’d not immediately climbed inside. A whoosh of water emerged, sluicing the sludge and splashing into the pond. The deluge lasted several minutes, and when it was done, the tunnel—while still somewhat slimy—at least offered a clean puddle to trudge through. Obviously, some kind of nightly maintenance. The pack knew. The pack noticed.
The bars took a bit of wrenching to remove, but once they were gone, he and the wolgar moved quickly through the concrete tunnel.
No sign of any guards yet. An oversight, or was it because they monitored via cameras or devices triggered by motion? He saw no signs of any electronics, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Would they be waiting for him? Did he walk into a trap?
The wolgar didn’t hesitate. They flowed, their fur slick against their backs, their eyes yellow beacons. The darkness didn’t impede them, or Axel.
The tunnel narrowed as it branched. Without hesitation, Brother went straight ahead. Axel followed.
His senses ranged ahead of him, cataloguing the things he heard. The drips of water—plink, plink—landing wetly. The scratch of legs as creatures scurried out of their way. The humming vibration of the ceiling. The shaking was bad enough to have caused cracks to form in a few places. Worrisome when passing under them. How long would they hold? Could he count on the tunnels as a way out?
They passed a grate, which shone some light down from the lamps that turned on at each street corner and midway point. He paused under the opening and closed his eyes, casting out his senses. He eyed the ladder and nodded.
Brothers and sisters shifted their shapes and became something more fluid and feline, able to clamber up the rungs. The grate wasn’t bolted down. Which was just plain laziness. Arrogance, too, because they felt so damned safe in their bubbles. Nothing could touch them here.
Guess again. Because today he planned to not only touch the inside of this dome; he might just tear it apart.
The pack split off with Brother moving overhead. The rest flowed past him and down side tunnels. Going to infiltrate as many locations as they could. On this night, mayhem would be his weapon.
Let the complacency of the dome be its downfall.
The next few grates he ignored, only stopping under one lit brighter than the rest. He glanced upward. This seemed like a good place. He couldn’t have explained why other than it felt right. The feeling got stronger as he climbed the ladder and heaved against the grate, growling softly when he realized it was bolted down.
It’s also very visible, another pack brother spoke to his mind.
There is another, thought by a younger sister.
They backtracked to the previous grate, which wasn’t bolted down, emerging onto an alley, the smell of food strong in this area. No one yelled an alarm as he stood there taking it in.
Way too easy. He should have been happy, but in his experience, things that seemed too good to be true ended up going to shit. The longer it held off, the worse it would be when it hit.
It took only a few paces. Axel reached the edge of the alley and glanced out to see the area brightly lit. Soldiers guarded the doors, the path out front well illuminated.
And wrong. He looked at the building. Shook his head. She wasn’t in there, but she was close by.
Show us her scent.
The request from the pack, soft and subtle on the evening ether, had him trying to recall Laura’s scent, which was utterly complex depending on her mood. But he did his best to show it to them.
The pack, still split, moved quickly, sleek shadows racing through the many squat and boring buildings inside the dome. They all ended up ringing the tall one smack-dab in the middle.
He eyed it and could almost hear Gunner say, “Of course it’s the biggest fucking building in the place.”
He whistled. A low sharp sound and the wolgar hearing it returned to his side as he stalked toward the tower. The number of them changed as they slipped off and returned after they handled possible complications. Not one shout of warning sounded.
He reached a wall, the top of it barbed with wire, the single gate unguarded but locked.
He looked up. Scaling it would make him and the wolgar easy targets to pick off. Fuck that.
They knew he was coming. They had to by now. So he did something a little ballsy instead.
He knocked. Then waited.
A wary voice through a speaker said, “Can I help you?”
He smiled, doing his best to look amiable while pushing down The Wild inside. “Open the door.”
“Come back in the morning. We’re closed.”
The most inane reply. Brother sent him an image, a warning.
Axel knocked again and said softly, “You might want to open that door before she gets here.”
“Before who gets here?”
The pack slid aside as Casey ran into view, shouting, “Incoming.”
She tossed something round at the gate then hit the ground. A good indication he should duck, too.
Axel crouched and turned while the pack melted into the shadows. The explosion proved more docile than expected. He stood and eyed the hole in the door.
“That was nicer and neater than usual,” he remarked. “Don’t tell me you’re getting reasonable in your old age about the amount of explosive you use.” Perhaps losing part of her toe helped Casey temper that urge of hers to blow shit up
“I’ll blow you up if you keep pissing me off. Move!” Casey barked, running for the door.
What he found interesting was the lack of alarms. Didn’t this place have a warning system?
“How did you find me?” They went through the hole and found themselves inside a walled garden. If you could call a thin strip of grass with the occasional bench a garden.
No soldiers. Still no alarm. His “oh shit” bell was going off.
“You’re looking for Laura. This is where they keep the important ones.”
Eyeing the tall building, he almost growled. “How bad is the security inside?”
“Not as bad as you’d think.” She headed for the door, gun out, finger on the trigger. “The guy who spilled his guts told me what to expect. They’re low on men. If my intel is correct, there are just two inside the door.”
A pair of guards who got eager and opened the portal, making themselves targets. He shot one, and Casey nailed the other before striding in and coolly looking around.
“This floor has no rooms. Supplies mostly.”
“Let’s take the stairs.” He moved away from the lift, knowing there had to be some. “Where’s Cam?”
“Working on a distraction.”
“That would be a good thing.” Although he had to wonder if they needed it. The forces arrayed against them weren’t as intense as expected.
The pack had split off to find out w
here the remaining guards were hiding. Surely the dome wasn’t this poorly protected.
“The stairs will have a pair of guards, too,” Casey declared as she opened the door. “Duck!”
The blast from a weapon rolled overhead and fizzled on the wall.
“They’re shooting energy.” Not bullets, which was good for them.
“Because they like to capture people who escape. We’re probably the first to break our way in.”
“Trend-setting in the Wastelands,” he joked.
“That sounds like something Gunner would say.”
The next floor appeared empty. To his relief, though, an alarm went off. Whooping. Warning.
Finally.
He eyed Casey. “We can’t go searching floor by floor. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“I’m gonna guess, given the trouble they went to, she’s damned valuable. That puts her on the top floor.”
“Of course, she is,” he groaned. “Let’s climb”
The alarm stopped, and he had to wonder if it accomplished anything. He’d really expected to have to fight his way in and out.
The stairs proved utilitarian in the extreme, the concrete pitted with age, the paint long flaked. The seven-story climb was enough to burn his thighs, and still it niggled. How had not one person thought to check the stairwell? It didn’t seem right.
Casey pushed open the door to the last level and emerged behind a plant, the plastic leaves dusty. Not even a real one.
Still no guards. Just a large room with four big metal doors with bolt rods that slid into the walls. They were meant to keep dangerous things inside.
Except for one. Its bolts were undone.
Casey ranged out with her weapon. “Get Laura and let’s get out. I don’t like this.”
At least he wasn’t alone in thinking there was something off about the situation. He reached out with The Wild, feeling his way, wondering about that single unlocked door.
Was she behind it?
What would he find?
Casey hissed, “Hurry up. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
So did he.
He reached the door and eyed the handle. Gun in one hand, he slammed it, thrusting the door open. He stumbled as he saw Laura slumped on the floor, pressing against the wall, eyes at half-mast, her expression sleepy, and yet she held her hands out in front of her, protesting.