“The rules are simple,” Timber continued, walking away from the woman and around the room. “Our goal is to build a bigger pack. We decide who gets what and how much. You do as you’re told or everyone you love suffers. If you have no one, then you suffer. If that doesn’t work, you die. If you earn our trust, you are rewarded. More trust and time means more and better rewards, starting with the basics. Your homes, food, and supplies now belong to me. Whether you get to stay in them depends on your loyalty.”
A younger woman with a shaved head raised her hand like she was back in school and not in hell.
Timber grinned and nodded to her.
“Is Jarin dead?”
All eyes turned back to Timber.
“No, Jarin is very much alive. For now. She will still be in charge of my supplies. You will still come to her for what you need.”
“Why?” the girl asked.
“Why what, child?”
“Why didn’t you kill her?”
Timber laughed outright at this. “We came to an arrangement. Any more questions?”
Kurt raised his hand, and Becker tried to stop him.
“Yes?” Timber asked, walking over to them.
“How do we join?”
Becker’s mouth fell open a little, but he closed it quickly when Timber’s icy eyes raked him over.
“You get in line and get marked. Oh, and one more thing . . .” Timber and Becker stared eye to eye for a moment before he spoke again. “Don’t ever look the alpha in the eyes.”
Becker didn’t look away until Timber kneed him in the stomach, making him gasp.
By the time he had recovered, everyone in the room was either in line to be marked or being carried out dead.
Becker stood up and looked around. People he had known his whole life were giving what they had away. Some of these people he’d gotten to know through the hard winters they spent together surviving. Still, it didn’t seem right.
“You got a problem?” Cobra asked Becker, stepping up to him.
“No.”
“Then get in line with the rest or get carried out with them,” he said gesturing at a dead man they were dragging past them at that moment.
Becker hobbled to the back of the long line, still out of breath and in pain from the brutal punch.
He considered his options. He could fight, but then he would die, and for what? Most of these people seemed happy to be a part of the Wolves.
He could run. That option seemed the most appealing, as every part of him felt like fleeing.
The line moved forward as his mind raced. Timber came walking down the line. He stopped next to Becker, who looked at the ground in submission as the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.
Timber moved on to terrorize someone else.
Another option occurred to him. One he hadn’t considered before.
The line moved again. He was only a few spots away now. A woman was being tattooed with a laser tattoo gun on her arm. She cried out, and tried to pull away from the pain, but two men held her still.
Two more, before he would also be a Wolf.
The next man barely flinched. Becker noticed he was missing several fingertips from frostbite. He had felt much worse pain than a tattoo.
Becker took a chance to glance around and saw his friends waiting for him. Kurt and Mick. Kurt looked excited. Mick look resigned to this fate.
Finally, it was Becker’s turn.
Two large men grabbed him roughly and held him in place. This was his last chance.
He did not resist as the laser began to burn into the flesh of his arm. He could smell it as much as he could see it. Clenching his teeth, he looked away and into the cold blue eyes of Timber, who was watching him.
Becker looked down quickly, afraid to face the consequences again.
“Next,” the men said, and it was over. Becker was now a member of the Wolves.
He was uncertain if he was allowed to leave yet. So, he went toward his friends.
Instead, Timber blocked his path. “What’s your name?”
“Becker, sir.”
“First or last?”
“First.”
“I want you to do me a favor, Becker. Grab a couple guys and go door to door. Tell everyone you can find in this scratch of a town that they are to come here. Keep track of anyone who refuses. Then report back to me. Is that understood?”
Becker began to nod.
“Speak, when spoken to.”
“Yes. Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get going.”
As soon as Timber was out of the way, he moved toward his friends, who were looking at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
“What’d he want, Becker?” Kurt asked.
“He gave us a job. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Becker led them quickly out of the lair and into the cool evening air.
“What’s the job?” Mick asked as soon as the door closed behind them.
“We’re supposed to gather everyone up.”
“Everyone, as in every single person in Greensburg?”
“Yup.”
“That’s impossible!”
“We better get moving,” Becker said, interrupting him. “Or we’ll be out here all night. I think we should start on the north side of town.”
Becker grabbed the solar lanterns that were hanging next to the door, turning them on and passing one to each man.
“Maybe we should split up?” Mick asked.
“No, he said to go together. Besides, some people may not like what we have to tell them. They may just choose to leave town or outright refuse to go.”
“What’re we supposed to do then?” Kurt asked.
“He just said to keep track of who refuses. You got your notepad on you, Mick?”
“Yeah, like always.”
“Good, we’re going to need it.”
The three men started out.
“What do you think about all this, Becker?” Mick asked.
“Which part? Being told everything now belongs to a terrifying guy named after a wolf or the same terrifying guy making us tell everyone we know just that?”
“Either-or.”
“I’m not real happy about it. In fact, I’m thinking about skipping town myself,” Becker said, making his friends both stop walking. “What say you, boys? Should we just keep going? None of us have family here anymore. We could go south. I sure wouldn’t miss the winter.”
“Shut up, Becker. Are you crazy?” Mick whispered. “He probably has spies listening.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere and neither are you,” Kurt said in a way that made both of the other men look at him.
“Kurt, you with them?” Mick asked.
“Now, I’ve known you guys for a long time. So, I’m willing to forget this conversation. For old times’ sake, but from here on out, you’re both Wolves now. You got that? No more talk of leaving or Timber. You show him respect. He’s saved a lot of us from starving or freezing. He’s a bit hard, it’s true, but that’s because he’s had to be. Just keep your head down, do what he says and he’ll take care of you. Of us.”
Becker couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kurt, a spy? He thought back to when they had met Kurt. Over a year ago. Two winters surviving together. All that time.
“You were sent here to what? Spy on us? Why stay so long?” Becker asked Kurt, having trouble keeping the fury out of his voice.
“I was assigned to this town, yes. I was to stay until Timber arrived.”
“How long have you been a member of the Wolves, Kurt?” Mick asked with a bit of fear in his voice.
“Since a couple of months after the fallout. Timber survived. He helped us learn how to survive too. How to hunt, fish, gather and even how to fight and protect ourselves. He saved my life.”
“You sound like you admire him,” Becker muttered.
“Of course, I do and so should you! Timber is a great man. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
The three men started walking again.
Becker’s heart hammered in his chest. The letters! Kurt was always having this person or that carry letters for him. Even though there was no official mail anymore. The whole time he wasn’t writing to a brother like he said. He was telling Timber about Greensburg. How many lived here. What resources we had that he could take. Probably about Jarin and her stash of supplies. That’s why he was here. The lair.
He thought he knew Kurt. For just a moment, hatred burned so brightly he thought he might just be able to kill the man walking so nonchalantly only a few feet away. Then Kurt stepped up to their first house for the night and knocked.
No one answered for a few minutes, but Kurt was relentless. Finally, a woman opened the door. She had a shaved head, and was wearing a ratty looking shirt and sweatpants.
“What? What? What? Will you shut up! You’ll wake the babies. Took me hours to get them all to sleep. What the hell do you want?”
Becker recognized her. Beth. She had taken in five or six kids that had been orphaned after C47. The community took care of her for it. It was hard to tell if it was kindness or a calculating move. Sure, she kept a bunch of kids alive, but Becker had never seen her be loving toward them. These days, though, keeping them alive mattered more than love.
“Sorry to bother you, Beth. We’re going house-to-house to let Greensburg know that something great has happened.”
Becker’s mouth dropped open at that.
“We have a new town leader. His name is Timber. He’s going to take care of this town. He only asks that we all share and contribute. In exchange, we’ll get to keep our houses and get supplies. As much as we need.”
Beth burst out laughing.
“What’s funny?” Kurt asked, looking to the men on either side of him.
“First of all, Kurt is it? I have six kids under the age of seven living here. Second, this house was mine before C47. But you’re coming here, all excited, to tell me some jerk has strolled into town saying it’s now his and that he’s gonna let me stay? Well, you can tell him something. If he wants to come help me raise these young’uns that aren’t even mine, then by all means, he can call this his house too. Until then, what’s mine is mine. Oh, and Becker. Tell Jarin I need more cloth diapers. I got one that I can’t keep up with! That kid can barely keep it in as soon as I feed him. Now, gentlemen. I’m tired and going back to bed.”
With that, she slammed the door in their faces. Several locks clicked.
Kurt reached up to knock again, but Becker caught his arm.
“She can’t do that! Timber is now the rightful owner . . .”
“Rightful? Really Kurt? What did you think was going to happen, when you tell people this stranger is basically stealing their homes? Did you really think they were going to give them up easily?”
Kurt looked genuinely confused, making Becker feel sorry for him.
“People are going to resist, you know,” Becker snapped, throwing Kurt’s arm out of his grip.
“Hell, I would, if I hadn’t been in that bar,” Mick added.
“We’ve fought to survive here, Kurt. You among us. You saw what the fallout was like. Before the solar generators. Before the community garden. The game. The furs. We watched neighbors starve right in front of us or freeze to death. But we worked together. We survived! And we will survive the Wolves too.”
“That’s treason, Becker. Timber wouldn’t tolerate . . .”
“I don’t give a damn what Timber would or would not do. I thought we were friends. I trusted you. We all trusted you, Kurt.”
“We are friends! Timber is here to help us.”
“Help us! Have you lost your mind?” Mick asked, incredulously. “Did you see how many he killed in the lair tonight? For no reason, other than they didn’t want a tattoo. They didn’t want to be a part of some gang.”
“There will be those that resist, of course. Casualties. But they have that choice.”
“Choice? Die or join is not a choice! That is a dictatorship. It’s sick and I don’t want to be any part of it.”
Becker turned to leave.
“Where are you going, Becker? You can’t outrun him. He will catch you and punish you!”
Becker ignored him. Only after a few minutes did he realize Mick was running beside him.
They ran all the way to his house just on the edge of town.
“You gather food. I’ll grab my pack.”
“Right.”
The men split up. Becker grabbed the bag he had kept packed since C47. In case he had to bug out quickly. Like now.
When he got back to the kitchen, Mick had a backpack on his back and was chugging from a bottle of liquor. Becker pulled it from him and did the same.
“Let’s go get your bag and get out of here.”
“Yup.”
Becker didn’t bother turning off the lights.
Mick lived across the street. Where he had their whole lives. Best friends since they met in the third grade.
Like Becker’s, Mick’s entire family had died from C47. Except for his elderly mother, who had died the winter after.
Mick grabbed his bag from his bedroom and they were back in the main room in less than five minutes.
Mick opened the front door and stopped so fast that Becker ran into his back.
“What?” Becker asked, unable to see around Mick and his pack.
Then Mick collapsed against him.
“Mick?” Becker asked, confused, as both men slid to the floor.
Only then did Becker see the dozen or so men with torches standing outside in the street. Several held laser guns, with the beams pointed at them both.
“Mick?” Becker asked again, but his eyes were already glazed over. He was dead.
“No!”
“I tried to tell you, Becker,” Kurt said from somewhere among the illuminated faces. “There is no resisting the Wolves.”
“You killed him!” Becker screamed. “Why?”
“Timber’s orders. Anyone that tries to run or fight, is punished. It’s that simple.”
A scream cut through the air somewhere in Greensburg. Then gunfire somewhere else.
Becker felt tears slide down his cheeks as he mourned for his oldest friend.
Footsteps stomped up Mick’s porch.
“Well, then, get it over with and kill me you coward!” Becker screamed.
“I’m sorry, Becker. Timber has other plans for you.”
Becker was yanked to his feet, his pack pulled off of him. They dragged him backward. He sobbed as they threw torches into Mick’s house. It lit up quickly, Mick with it.
As they dragged him through the streets of Greensburg, chaos was everywhere. Houses were on fire. People screamed and fought and died.
For the first time, Timber wondered how many were in the Wolves that they could take over an entire town in one night.
They stopped when they got to the parking lot of the lair. Becker was dropped in a heap next to ten or so other people he knew as neighbors and friends.
“On your knees!”
Those who resisted were pushed or beaten into position. Including Becker.
They waited. More and more people were brought. Some on their knees. Most shuffled in a line to be marked forever with the symbol of the Wolves, which still burned on Becker’s arm.
The parking lot was lit up now with torches and faces behind them. Some sobbing. Others silent.
Then Timber stepped forward. He wore no shirt, so that his wolf tattoo showed in the firelight.
“The rules are very simple,” he began. “My name is Timber. I am your alpha. Your leader. You will show me respect and you will obey or you will suffer. These people here did not follow the rules. Let their pain be a reminder of what you will face, should you ever choose to resist, leave or try to fight back.”
Timber nodded.
“Lie facedown,” men with guns and knives ordered.
One by one, each person had their legs and hands bound wit
h zip ties. Then light bounced across the parking lot as men and women with torches stepped forward.
“No!” a woman screamed out in the line. “I’ll do anything.”
The distinct sound of a gun went off and her pleas were cut off.
“You will be silent!” Timber ordered.
Each person on the ground had a torch hovering behind them. Becker shook in fear, not knowing what horror would come next.
“Greensburg is now mine. You are all mine.”
The torches were lowered.
Becker was on fire. It ate through his coat and shirt in seconds to reach his back.
He screamed and dragged himself away from the row of screaming and burning people and rolled, putting it out, but not before his entire back faced the fire’s kiss of agony.
Footsteps approached him as he rocked and cried and moaned in pain.
“Becker, was it?”
“Yes sir, that’s Becker,” Kurt said, just behind him.
“I think he may have learned his lesson. Take him to his house. Make sure he receives medical care and is guarded at all times.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Becker was picked up by his arms and legs, making his back stretch and the pain feel so bad he nearly passed out.
“Let the rest burn,” Timber said, as Becker was carried away into the night.
Becker would find out only six survived Timber’s initiation with fire. Seven did not. Becker was not sure he was lucky to be alive. After some time, though, he did heal.
When he was finally able to leave his house again, Greensburg was a new place. Streets were marked by smoldering remains where houses had once stood. The houses that did survive were marked with a paw print, Becker’s included. A symbol that the Wolves owned this town.
Becker was ordered to go to the lair and get his assignment.
Even the lair was marked, inside and out with the paw print that matched the one, now healed, on his own arm.
“Becker,” Jarin said when he came in. “Glad to see you’re up and out again.”
“Glad to see you too, Jarin. I wasn’t sure . . .”
“You all healed up?” Jarin interrupted, and nodded her head toward the back.
Timber was sitting on what looked like the throne from the local museum. A woman sat on his lap. Becker recognized her and his stomach did flip-flops.
On the Brink Page 40