The WereGames II - Salvation

by Jade White

  “And they’ll be werebears?” Ryker asked, his mind racing with the negative possibilities.

  Barrett shrugged. “I really don’t know. That part will have me stumped for decades unless I get to a lab like Sector 11,” he took a deep breath. “Ryker, this is even more reason for you to stay away from them; you have to keep Alexia safe. Get out of the country, get to the Soviet Republic where there’s no extradition treaty-or wait, somewhere where they won’t use you two. They’ll find ways--"

  “We’ll find ours,” Ryker interrupted. “Can we do anything to suppress this change? Can we alter it?”

  “You’re talking to a discredited scientist with little to no technology in his grimy basement,” Barrett said. “I told you before that Alaska is a goose chase; go somewhere else. Go to Canada. Maybe they’ll be nicer. I hear they’ve integrated their werebeings well into various jobs.”

  “Why is Alaska a goose chase? Dr. Delaney told us-" Ryker began.

  “Dr. Delaney relied on long dead information. It’s actually become a sort of legend to my generation, so I expected it to reach yours. Alaska was a haven for werebeings a hundred years ago. They were revered by the native tribes that resided in its rich flora and fauna. Plus, the weather was pleasantly cold the whole year round until the war began. They rounded up the werebeings, brought them to the capital, which used to be in Washington. I’ve seen records of those first experiments, and they were as horrid as the present ones.

  The tribes didn’t want to give them up; they didn’t want to give up. Census records show the werebeings before reached up to a hundred thousand against the millions of normal humans back then. But the humans were afraid. And the first Caledon president was afraid. The war became much, much worse, as other countries had discovered this, too. The werebeings were treated as some sort of pandemic, and the civil war ensued just months after he took power. It was an all-out nuclear war in Alaska, and they decimated the place. Paradise had become a barren wasteland.

  The hundred thousand werebeings became just a mere twenty-thousand the last time I worked with Wallace and Delaney. They were a dying species because of the tests and the fear from parents that their next child could have werebeing genes. Poachers became a new source of income, and they’re everywhere. They can sniff you out.”

  “Why can’t they just help us? The werebeings?”

  “They’re afraid, Ryker,” Barrett replied to him, “and the majority are orphans. The next best thing is to serve the government to keep a roof over their heads. And don’t forget, if Alexia’s memories had been tampered with, their minds would most likely be tampered, too.”

  Alexia looked at Ryker. So this whole trip had been nothing but a ruse? It was just for them to get away from the lab? She had heard of Alaska, had heard that it was a once beautiful place; but now, it was filled with frigid winters and frigid summers. No one was there. No one could help them in Alaska. She took a breath, feeling blood leave her face. Suddenly, it felt like one big, cruel joke.

  “It’s there,” Ryker insisted. “I know it is. Someone is there.”

  “Caledon’s soldiers, most likely,” Barrett told them. “Give it up, kids.”

  “We aren’t kids,” Alexia’s voice rose at him all of a sudden. Her chest heaved up and down, and suddenly her nose began to bleed-the first time in so many days.

  Dr. Barrett stopped and stood, staring at her. Her face was still pale; she was still a thin creature, but her eyes -- there was something different about her eyes. Had they changed color? Was it a part of her mutation?

  “Sit down,” Ryker told her, leading her to a chair. “Have you got tissue here?”

  Barrett nodded and calmly walked to her, holding the tissue up. She took it and closed her eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” Barrett asked her.

  “Tired,” she said.

  “Anything else?”

  “I feel like I have a headache forming,” she replied.

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Barrett told her. He saw their backpacks on a table. They were ready to go. He nodded. “Well, might as well give you a head start. It’s all I can do, actually. Just these tests. I’ve written them down on this notebook,” he said, shoving it into Ryker’s hands. “You’ll know who to show it to soon enough.”

  “But you told me no one else--"

  “No one else is like me. A willing traitor even if I’d been dismissed so long ago. Let’s just say I’m getting back at Wallace,” he smiled at them. “I have a truck out back. Been working on that baby for a few years now. Take it. Take it as far as it’ll take you. Wait, can you drive?” he looked at Ryker. He saw the boy nod. “Good. There’s some gasoline there, too.”

  “That’s it?” Ryker sputtered.

  “What’s it?” Barrett asked.

  “You’re asking us to leave? And we don’t have anything to prove yet?”

  “It’s all in your hands, actually. You two should survive and usher this country into a better future. If you can overthrow the government, that would be nicer.”

  Alexia’s nose had stopped bleeding by then, and she stood up and took a step closer to Dr. Barrett. Inexplicably, she embraced him, like a daughter would to a father; for a moment, it comforted her.

  “Thank you,” she finally said. “I wasn’t too nice earlier. I’m sorry.”

  “Nice to know you can still crack under pressure. I thought I was looking at super humans here,” Barrett told her. Then, his face became serious. “I heard military were spotted off the border. I think it’s time you leave.”

  Ryker breathed out and nodded, stashing the notebook in his backpack. He grabbed Alexia’s hand with surprising force.

  “I have another little passageway down here. You can exit through the shed,” he said, pushing on a rock wall. The wall collapsed, and it became a long and dark tunnel.

  “Thank you, Dr. Barrett,” Ryker said.

  Dr. Barrett merely nodded.

  Ryker grabbed his flashlight and proceeded for the tunnel. Alexia wanted to say something to Dr. Barrett, but the words were caught in her throat. She followed Ryker inside the damp and moldy-smelling tunnel as the door closed from behind her.

  Dr. Barrett began stashing away all evidence of his work with Alexia and Ryker; that mere day had given him information he hadn’t thought he would glean on in years. There was a small furnace at the basement that served as his heater. He shoved the papers inside the fire, smelling the arrival of soldiers at the edge of town.

  *

  Alexia was crying as they made their way out of town inside the doctor’s ordinary-looking farmer’s truck. The moon was partially hidden behind clouds, and Ryker’s hands gripped the steering wheel nervously. They would have helicopters; they would have jeeps like the one he had stolen. The only thing they didn’t have was Dr. Barrett’s notes.

  “Stop crying,” Ryker told her as he drove into the night. Then, from afar, he could smell something burning. He didn’t want to look back; instead he rammed on the accelerator, knowing that Dr. Barrett was probably now dead, unless the soldiers still wanted to torture him. He wished for a quick death for the doctor, anyhow.

  Alexia stopped crying as soon as he said that. She wiped tears from her face with her sleeve, looking at the expanse of dark road with flurries of snow flying in front of them. Ryker had purposefully dimmed the lights, using only his eyes as his guide in the night.

  “You think he’s dead?” she asked in a small voice.

  “If he isn’t, I hope he will be soon,” Ryker said. “It’s the best form of mercy they can give him.”

  *

  Stephen was cursing under his breath. Six of his men had been caught in mines carefully laid out by the former esteemed doctor; the same man who had founded Sector 11 with Dr. Wallace was a damned traitor. He didn’t get to shoot the doctor himself, but the doctor had put up a fight, and when they’d reached the basement, the place was already engulfed in flames.

  “He had a lab,” Stephen called Magnus II firstha
nd. “And he let them escape.”

  “That’s not his fault now, is it?” Magnus II replied, his frown evident on the choppy video call. “Is he still alive?”

  “Negative,” Stephen replied.

  “Then bring back what you can from that place. Anything useful,” Magnus told him. “I have to present something to the board tomorrow.” Stephen closed his eyes and ended the call, barking out orders. He suddenly missed having weresoldiers in his company. Humans were so fragile and prone to death. Perhaps, he could take Caliban out on the next mission, and this time, he would make sure X014 died first.

  Another call came on the line; this time, it was plainly a voice call with an unregistered number.

  “Yes,” Stephen said harshly.

  “Lt. Caledon, this is Dr. Wallace.”

  Stephen’s tone changed. “What can I do for you? I’m in the middle of an--"

  “If you would be so kind as to save whatever information you can find out of my former colleague’s pitiable laboratory, it would be an honor for me. Oh, is he dead?”

  The query was casually said, and it unnerved Stephen somehow. He could never be as cold-hearted as the Angel of Death.

  “Affirmative,” Stephen found himself replying.

  “Ah. Then it’ll make things easier for you. See you in a few, Lt. Caledon.”

  Stephen slipped the phone in his breast pocket. Magnus II had wanted Dr. Barrett alive. Dr. Wallace and their father had other instructions, and those were instructions he would have rather followed.

  *

  Magnus II exhaled deeply as the call with his brother ended. He felt his teeth grit with the outcome of the operations. So, Dr. Barrett had been in contact with Dr. Delaney; at least it proved his suspicions right. He had wanted Dr. Barrett alive for questioning. Something was afoot here. Something that his own brother wasn’t telling him.

  They all had secrets, and he had lived with his for the past five years or so. He had gotten a severe headache one day, bordering on a migraine. A doctor had given him a sedative, and he’d slept like a log, losing his headache in the morning but regaining memories he didn’t know existed.

  He remembered the assault on the White House, he remembered losing siblings that had no trace of history in their home when growing up. Then, he remembered they were taken away at night, whisked away inside a private helicopter. He remembered his father telling them their younger brother and sister had died.

  “We lost your brother and sister. We couldn’t get to them in time.”

  JJ found himself shaking his head. “What?” How could his father say this with a poker face? Was he really serious? Were they really dead? He had seen them only yesterday, when his youngest brother had shifted for the first time…

  Jared would have turned nineteen by now. And Alexandra, their beautiful and sweet youngest sister…she would have been seventeen this year. He hadn’t told anyone of this, not even his wife, for fear she would think he had gone crazy. It was true; there were no records of his siblings ever existing.

  The slate had been wiped clean, and his memories had been wiped clean successfully over a period of twelve years. It was as if he’d been reborn, seeing the world in a new light, seeing how desperate the citizens were to please the government when it should have been the other way around.

  In those five years since, he had been desperate to track his siblings down and had learned a year ago that Jared had died a mere three months after setting foot inside Sector 12. He had been buried in an unmarked grave, a stark contrast to their mother’s stunning mausoleum. Alexandra, on the other hand, was still alive and was the subject of an intense study, one that had only taken a foothold two years after she had been brought to the sector.

  Meeting Dr. Delaney was a blessing in disguise. She had been a steadfast worker, a brilliant but overshadowed scientist, and there were rumors circling that she was affectionate for save but one test subject, a subject named A129. Magnus II had to hold off his desperation to meet his sister for so long. In the end, he had coaxed Dr. Delaney to help the test subject escape, along with a werebeing whom she thought would give the best protection for her.

  Delaney hadn’t failed, but she had died along the way, a worthy sacrifice to see his sister free from that wretched place. He knew that the children were used as test subjects; he knew that the experiments were inhuman, but he hadn’t given it that much thought until he’d recalled that he had a sister.

  It was the reason why he didn’t want children. Jared had had a recessive gene. Alexandra had some gene the scientists used as a steroid compound. What horrified him most of all was that his father probably knew of this all along and had kept mum about it. He had kept up appearances for so long, it was wearing him down already.

  He had plans to depose his father, and the initial plan was that they assassinate the president, using the latest winner of the WereGames as the hired contract. It was perfect, until he had found Alexandra at last. She had been given another name, Alexia or A129. 129 was the month and date she had been born, and she probably didn’t even know it.

  Every delay meant tiny victories for his sister and the champion werebear. Every delay meant that the government’s fears were rising to a fever-pitch. They were afraid of another civil war. Magnus II planned a bloodless revolution for the civilians, but he knew his father and a few of his trusted advisers (including Dr. Wallace) had to die.

  It was a precarious plan, one that involved so few people. Even Stephen didn’t know. He probably hadn’t awoken from his stupor just yet, and Magnus II planned to use it to his full advantage as well.

  I’ll see you soon, Alexandra.

  CHAPTER 13

  Ryker fought the urge to pass by Oregon. The sun rose over the sky, and he immediately drove onto a dirt-track, hiding the truck as best as he could. He had driven nonstop for 11 hours, and he knew he needed at least an hour’s worth of sleep.

  He shook Alexia awake, and she promptly woke up, surprised to be deep inside some overgrown forest.

  “Where are we?” she asked, shaking the sleep out of her system.

  “Somewhere close to Washington. I need to sleep,” he said.

  “You don’t need to feed?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “Just need to sleep,” he told her, shutting off the engine and reclining the seat as far as it went. “Can you just stay inside?”

  She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Ryker settled into an immediate sleep, even snoring a bit. He was that tired. Alexia grabbed Ryker’s backpack from behind, rummaging for the notebook Dr. Barrett had given him. She pushed away the thought of Dr. Barrett dead, just like Dr. Delaney. These were people who were passionate, who were caring in spite of what their tests demanded of them.

  She knew how to read, but what Dr. Barrett explained to them sounded foreign. There were hastily drawn charts, there were computations crushed out by pen and rewritten and then crushed out again. Numbers filled pages, but the doctor’s work had lasted only for a couple of hours. It seemed he had waited for this moment, waited for them, and theorizing all those years had put their presence as godsend to him.

  She read through notes, unable to understand what the majority of the terms meant. Shaking her head, she decided to rummage through her backpack, hoping she could find something interesting to do while Ryker napped.

  She wanted to stretch, but she knew she had to stay inside. The temperature dropped, and light snow began to fall. She hugged her jacket around her even tighter, willing for her thermals to work. She could eat, but she was afraid they would run out of rations. All those home-cooked meals had spoiled her. Alexia found the dog-eared copy of the History of the United States, the same one she had read two weeks ago, and she sighed and pulled it out. She hadn’t finished reading it, and there was nothing else to do.

  Skipping through many chapters, she finally found a more current one with a photo of the current president of the country, Magnus Caledon. He was a handsome, thin-faced man with piercing eyes an
d high cheekbones, and he had a bit of a widow’s peak. Alexia closed her eyes, feeling a sharp pain inside her brain. She shrugged it off, continuing the read.

  The president had two children as of the edition, two wonderful boys who, according to Magnus, had great futures ahead of them. There was a photo of a woman, his wife, who had died during an airstrike. She was a beautiful person with her doe-shaped, grey eyes and her soft smile. Juliet Delavigne Caledon.

  Alexia’s heart stopped for a moment. Juliet. Juliet. She had used the name Juliet mere days ago without knowing why. Why did she? Did she read Juliet’s name somewhere? She had never known of anyone named Juliet until reading this chapter.

  She backtracked a few chapters, finding a small, and near scathing write-up about the president prior to when the Caledon regime had begun. Some guy by the name of Alfred Antony Auberon. He looked like a convivial fellow, from the only surviving photo, but the text painted him otherwise. It claimed he endangered the lives of ordinary citizens by allowing the werebeings to go unchecked, pretending they were fine. He had been killed, and his entire family was executed in the aftermath of the Second Civil War.

  Ryker suddenly woke up, frowning and sniffing the air. It was cold and devoid of any scent, human or feral.

  “That was a quick nap,” Alexia told him, glad he was awake. The book had made her brain hurt for some reason, or it was probably Dr. Barrett’s rushed explanations. Whatever it was, she was restless already, but she didn’t want him to know.

  “I dreamt of something,” he said. “If I drive in broad daylight, they can spot us.”

  “So, we stay here for now?” she asked him.

  He nodded. “We’ll just go in deeper, find shelter in some place first. Besides, the days are shorter. It gives me leverage; I can drive at night without much light.”