Autumn Rising

by Marissa Farrar

  Blake’s expression softened. “Me too. She’s still my baby sister, even if I did let her down. She lost her mom, and then her brother, for all I was worth. No wonder she ended up messed up.”

  Chogan experienced a rare moment of compassion for his cousin. “It’s not all your fault, Cuz. Remember I was the surrogate brother while you were gone. I obviously didn’t have a particularly good influence on her either.”

  Blake shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with you about that.”

  Chogan pressed his lips together to prevent an answer from busting out. They had enough problems to worry about without arguing about the past. What was done, was done.

  “Let’s hope she’s not in too much pain,” he said instead, though he knew that would be an impossibility. It was agony to shift, and Tala was shifting all the time when she was awake. He didn’t even want to imagine what kind of excruciation she’d suffered.

  They went back to stashing the packets of dried goods in the cupboards beneath the small kitchen sink. Chogan had already tried the taps, but was only rewarded with groaning pipes and a trickle of brown sludge.

  Suddenly, Blake straightened from where he’d been leaning into the cupboard. “Do you hear that?”

  Chogan froze. A frown creased his brow as he strained his ears, listening. A low roar filtered through to him, growing louder.

  “A vehicle,” Blake confirmed.

  The engine grew louder, and Rhys stood from the corner where he bedded himself down with another sleeping bag. “Who the hell is it now?”

  “We’re not going to know from in here,” Blake replied.

  The three of them headed back outside onto the porch. They peered out into the night, though Chogan noticed the sky was already growing lighter, no longer pitch black, but now tinged with purple. They waited, the engine growing louder. Chogan saw the headlights first, bouncing across the uneven forest floor. He sensed the tension radiating between each of the men, but for once the tension wasn’t directed at each other. Whatever their differences, they were at least united in this one thing. Whoever headed toward them now was most likely the enemy, and they would fight side by side to defeat them.

  The vehicle took an awkward, jolting path, forced to wind between the trees, though it still travelled at the highest speed possible. It skidded to a halt, sending dirt and leaves spraying up from beneath the massive wheels. The vehicle appeared to be black in the moonlight, though it may have been a dark green. It was a large all-terrain van with bull-bars and a rack with spotlights mounted on the roof. The front doors swung open and two soldiers leapt from the vehicle. Immediately, they dropped to one knee, their guns, some kind of semi-automatic rifle, pointed in the direction of the cabin and the waiting shifters. The rear doors of the van swung open, and another couple of soldiers jumped out, but they were not alone. They shoved, pushed and dragged a number of other people, their hands bound behind their backs, hoods over their heads. Someone cried out and was rewarded with another shove.

  Chogan started forward, but Blake’s hand on his arm stopped him. “There’s nothing we can do right now.”

  “Who the hell do they think they are?” Chogan glared at the military men. Every part of him wanted to go all wolf on them and rip their stinking heads from their necks.

  “They’re military,” Blake continued, his voice calm, measured. “They’re trained to take down people who attack them. They’ll be ready, and they won’t hesitate to fire on you if you appear to be a threat, which you do right now. So back the hell down.”

  Chogan saw Blake look toward Rhys. He’d also heard what Blake had said, though Chogan imagined the expression on the other man’s face was much the same as his, gritted teeth, flared nostrils, narrowed eyes.

  Still, they waited.

  The soldiers continued to push, pull and shove the new arrivals in the direction of the cabin.

  “Hey, boys,” one of the soldiers shouted. “We’ve got some new blood for you.”

  One by one, they unlocked the handcuffs of the bound people—shifters, Chogan assumed—and shoved them in the direction of the cabin. They staggered forward, each ripping the material bags from their heads now their hands were free.

  One, a young man in his early twenties, caught sight of the soldiers. With a roar, he launched himself back at them. A shot went off, a crack in the otherwise still night. The man drew up short.

  “Stay right where you are. One more step in our direction and we’ll fire more than a warning shot.”

  A young woman, about the same age as the man, had also removed her hood. “Danny, please ...” she begged him. “Do as they say.”

  Chogan opened his mouth to tell him to listen to the girl’s advice, but Blake once again stopped him with a touch and a shake of his head. As much as it went against Chogan’s instinct to not get involved, he needed to listen to Blake on this occasion. These soldiers were Blake’s people—or at least they had been before. His cousin understood how they worked.

  Most of the soldiers got back in the van. Two final men lingered with their weapons trained on the small group until their comrades were ready, and then they jumped back in the vehicle. The wheels spun, more dirt whirling out from beneath the tires. The van took off back through the trees, the headlights and roar of the engine growing dimmer as the distance increased.

  Chogan quickly counted the new arrivals. Five in total. They were all unmasked now—three men and two women. The young man and woman, who had initiated the shot, were now embracing, the man still with an angry, terse expression on his face, the girl in tears. The other woman was older, in her forties, with jaw length blonde hair, and a tall, slim figure. The other two men were similar in appearance, with the same sandy hair and freckled skin. The man was in his mid fifties, the boy in his early twenties, at most. Each of them sported injuries of some kind; grazed cheeks, blackened eyes, split lips. But from the way the injuries seemed to be rapidly healing, Chogan assumed all of the new arrivals were full shifters, with good connections to their animal guides.

  He stepped forward. “I’d say ‘welcome’ but I can’t imagine any of you are happy to be here.”

  The new arrivals eyed the men with mistrust. Some of the other shifters had been woken by the commotion and had come to see what was happening, though they remained on the porch.

  “Who are you guys?” the young man called out.

  Chogan suddenly hoped they wouldn’t recognize him as the one who started all of this. He didn’t think for a moment that they would thank him for it. “We’re shifters, just like you. We’re in this together.”

  Blake moved to his side. “Come inside. You look hurt. We have a basic medical kit, if anything needs seeing to.”

  The young man scoffed. “We’re all shifters. We’ll heal.”

  “That may be,” Blake continued, and Chogan admired his non-aggressive, but firm tone. “But you’ll be more comfortable inside. We have blankets and food, and I’m sure your girlfriend has been through a lot.”

  The guy turned to his girlfriend’s tear-stained face. She nodded to him, and his shoulders dropped.

  Chogan was relieved. They needed to be able to think clearly, and they couldn’t do so while riled up, hurt, and frightened.

  He nodded to each of the new arrivals as they filed past him. The older man stopped and offered his hand. Chogan took it, the man’s grip strong and warm.

  “Name’s Garth Grissett,” he introduced himself, and Chogan noted his strong southern accent. “This here’s my boy, Jerome.”

  “Chogan,” he said, shaking first the hand of the father and then the son.

  Everyone else had gone back into the cabin, so Chogan followed.

  There felt like an awkward divide between the newcomers and the originals. The newbies stood in the middle of the cabin, looking around at the others. The originals held back, each side not quite confident enough to bridge the gap.

  Chogan would have to be the bridge.

  He stood between them and ad
dressed the group. “The army have just delivered these people here.” He gestured to the young man, “Danny and his girlfriend ….”

  “Lexie,” the girl filled in with a shy smile, tucking a strand of her long, mousy-brown hair behind one ear.

  Chogan smiled and gave her a nod. “Lexie. And these are father and son, Garth and Jerome.” He turned to the blonde. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”

  She held his gaze. “I’m Julianne Elwood. I think I already know who you are.”

  Chogan’s heart picked up a beat. He didn’t want a showdown between the shifters. They needed to be united if they were going to get out of this place. He ignored her comment and forced a smile, “And this is everybody,” he said, gesturing to everyone else.

  “Well now all the niceties have been done,” said Rhys, moving forward to stand between Chogan and the newcomers, “are we going to talk about how we’re busting out of here?”

  Anger surged through Chogan. When was this guy going to let it go? To his relief, Blake intervened, placing a hand on Rhys’ arm.

  “These people have just got here, Rhys. Let’s at least give them time to adjust.”

  He shook Blake off. “We should attack now. While we still have a little darkness to cover us.”

  “No. We need to plan what we’re going to do. Rushing out hot headed is only going to get us killed.”

  “But there are more of us now,” Rhys insisted. “Before, your excuse was that we couldn’t fight because there weren’t enough of us, and now it’s too soon! What other excuses are you going to come up with just because you’re chicken shit?”

  Blake rounded on him. “The last thing I am is chicken shit, you fucking moron. Those used to be my people out there. I’m ex-military. Unless we go in with a plan, and a damn good one at that, they will take us out in less than a minute.”

  Chogan lifted both hands, stepping in between them. “All right, let’s cool things down a minute. Blake’s right. We need to rest, and those with injuries need to heal. We’ll come up with a plan during the day, and when it falls dark again, we’ll do whatever we’ve decided.”

  Chogan had to force himself not to shake his head in amazement. Since when was his the voice of sensibility? Things were really going to shit if he was the one who had to rein others back in.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what we need to do.” For once, Blake had agreed with him.

  Rhys shook his head, but argued no further, though his upper lip was curled in a snarl of disdain. He turned his back on the group and sauntered back to the corner where he’d pitched up with his sleeping bag. He sat with his back against the wall, his knees bent, sullenly watching the rest.

  Blake began to hand the new shifters food and sleeping bags. The young man, Danny, was still comforting his girlfriend, and they took the offering gratefully. The father and son also seemed grateful to receive these small tokens of home comfort.

  The older woman stood apart from the others. Chogan took her rations over to her, but instead of taking them, she jerked her head to one side, indicating she wanted to talk to him out of range of the rest.

  “Who’s the leader here? You?” She nodded over to Blake. “Or him?”

  Chogan hesitated, and then said, “We both are. He’s my cousin. We work together.”

  “Well you might or might not know that things have gone to hell out there. The military are rounding up shifters, or anyone suspected to be a shifter.”

  “How do they know who is a shifter?”

  “People have been protesting. It’s all over the news. Most people are doing the sensible thing and staying out of the way, but others, young, headstrong ones like Danny over there, aren’t so smart.”

  Chogan frowned. “So how did they pick you up?”

  “I own a bookshop on the outskirts of the city. I was out back, making a phone call, talking about what was happening. Someone must have come into the shop and overheard me and reported me. Next thing I knew, those guys were busting down the door and had me in cuffs.”

  “Jesus.”

  His stomach twisted in guilt. He had done this to these people. His dream had been to see shifters mainstream, but all he’d done was cause trouble for those trying to live a normal life. He’d been so focused in his goals, he’d not considered anyone else.

  No, he chastised himself. This is just the start. There were bound to be difficulties at first. No revolution was won without a few battles being fought. This was all this was, just one battle in a war.

  She stared at him curiously. “You’re the one who started all of this, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I was.”

  “I sure as hell hope you know what you are doing.”

  Part of him wanted to say, ‘so do I,’ but he went for something more convincing. “We’ll get our lives back again,” he told her. “Only this time we won’t need to live in secret anymore.”

  Chapter Nine

  UNABLE TO BRING herself to climb back up on the slab of metal in order to lie down, Autumn had curled up in the corner of the room, using her arm as a pillow. She didn’t think there would be any chance of her falling asleep, but yet, as her mind drifted, she found herself tumbling into a welcome oblivion.

  But oblivion didn’t come. Her dreams were filled with the intense knowledge she was being chased, and no matter how hard she ran, she found herself in the same place. Everywhere she turned she saw the faces of those she cared about—Mia, Blake, Chogan, her father—and she begged them for help, pleaded with them until tears streamed down her face. But they just stood, watching, until the creature that had been chasing her, part man, part beast, stepped from the shadows and plunged a knife into her ribs over and over again.

  She woke with a lurch, her heart pounding, a scream barely held behind her lips. Her arm, which she’d been lying on, was completely dead. Slowly, the lightest of pins and needles tingled in her fingertips, though she knew they would get worse as the feeling returned. Her nose ached from where she’d been hit. Or had she fallen? She could barely remember now. Her ribs were sore from lying on her side, pressed against the hard floor. She could murder for a couple of pain-killers right now. Every part seemed to hurt.

  Autumn pulled herself to sitting and rubbed at her numb arm. She needed to get out of this room. Alone, with only her thoughts hour after hour would drive her crazy. The only time she ever spent without her mind being focused on one task or another was when she went out running, and even then her brain was occupied by her concentration on her breath or pace.

  Movement at the door caught her attention. She scrambled to her feet just as two men in white coats entered, Calvin Thorne hot on their heels.

  “What do you want?”

  “Get on the table please, Doctor Anderson,” said one of the men in white coats, a middle-aged man with a paunch and broken capillaries splattered across his bulbous nose and cheeks.

  “First tell me why.”

  “We need another sample. Now do as you’re told.”

  She scowled, but forced herself to walk to the dreaded slab. She hated that thing. It was as if they’d purposefully chosen it to make her feel like she was worth no more than a piece of meat. Perhaps that was exactly what they had done.

  She sat up on the edge, her feet swinging down.

  “Lie down please.”

  “You don’t need me to lie down to take blood. I assume you’re perfectly capable of taking it while I’m sitting here.”

  The other doctor, who barely looked to be out of medical school, turned toward Calvin for confirmation.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll behave.”

  Thorne nodded his consent.

  Autumn held out her arm, wrist up, for one of the doctors to take. He opened up a small case containing needles and glass vials. From the case he removed a black tourniquet. She sat placidly as he wrapped the stretchy material around her bicep.

  Thorne was watching. She cocked her eyebrows at him and he scowled back.

  Th
e inside of her arm was already pockmarked where both this facility and Tala had taken blood before. She stayed still, gritting her teeth as the small scratch of the needle pierced her skin and entered her vein. Quickly, the vial attached to the end of the needle began to fill with blood so thick and dark it appeared to be black.

  She waited until the doctor had filled the vial and then carefully removed the needle from her vein. He placed a small square of cotton over the puncture wound and indicated for her to press down, as if she’d had no more than a vaccination. She wanted to smack him in his prim face. Instead, she jumped from the table and lashed out at the hand holding the small glass tube, knocking it to the floor. The vial rolled and she jumped forward. Her foot landed on top of the vial, crushing it to the ground with a spatter of blood and broken glass. She had to resist the urge to lift her arms into the air and let out a loud whoop. She’d never taken such satisfaction in breaking something before.

  “That was a mistake, Autumn,” Thorne warned.

  She spun around to face him. “No it wasn’t. It was exactly what I meant to do.”

  The younger doctor who had so far remained a spare part in the whole proceedings, abruptly turned on his heel and left the room.

  “Clean that up,” Thorne told the man who had dropped the blood.

  The doctor still wore the gloves he’d put on to take the blood, so he stooped down and began to gather pieces of glass. Thorne pulled paper towels from the holder beside the sink and threw them down to land beside the man cleaning the blood. He picked them up and started to mop at the floor.

  Autumn stood with her arms folded over her chest, taking pleasure that the man with letters after his name was now reduced to a janitor.

  Vivian Winters came storming into the room, her eyes blazing. The younger doctor scurried in behind her, and Autumn realized he’d run off to tell tales.

  “What is this I hear about you not behaving, Doctor Anderson? You’re not doing anything to win your case, you know.”

  Her arms dropped to place her hands on her hips. She ignored the rivulet of blood which traversed the inside her arm and ran down to her wrist. “I needed to make a point. Let me out of this room, and I will cooperate with you fully.”