Every member of the pack stopped what he was doing at the sound of an engine on the nearby road. The last one to be curious about that sound had become their meal. The pack swung their bloody faces toward Alpha, who turned from the road and bounded deeper into the woods. Pepper was close on his heels, and the rest of the pack joined in the retreat.
* * *
On the road heading northwest from the campus, Tiny drove the farmer’s pickup—the only vehicle with a full tank of gas—toward the nearest hospital. The rust-eaten body had once been red with a white stripe down the middle, and the old shocks rattled the shaky body like a massager. Air coming through the rotten rubber seals on the windows made the inside of the cab sound like a wind tunnel.
John sat in the middle with his knees tucked against the dashboard, dressed in khaki cargo pants, a brand new set of hiking boots, and a camo jacket with six pockets over a black sleeveless Under Armour top. Beside him, Mick was wearing his full police uniform as he stared blankly ahead; Tiny wore her usual tight black spandex outfit with combat harness.
John swung his eyes between Tiny and Mick, wishing one of them would say something. Other than the pounding wind, there hadn’t been a sound since they started the journey. He reached around his balled-up legs and pushed the knob for the radio. Only static came through the dead station. The orange line on the radio slid all the way left and then right as John spun the knob. With a fast tap, Tiny turned off the radio.
“We have hundreds of iPods. Just claim one when we get back,” Tiny said.
“Stolen goods, pillaged for our comfort,” Mick said, his voice flat.
Tiny rolled her eyes. “What crawled up your ass and died today?”
That notion—not the insult itself, but the concept of something crawling up anyone’s ass—received a laugh from John as he visualized a squirrel committing the act. He silenced himself when Mick glared at him. John considered explaining, but had grown to think that, with this group, the best thing he could do in any situation was nothing.
“It’s … I cared. There were things I should have done, should have told people,” Mick paused. “The Old World.”
“It’s too late for any of that now,” Tiny said. “Move forward.”
John hugged his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible in order to avoid getting drawn into their brewing fight. He had faced many days like this as a kid, when there would be fights between his long-clawed stepmother and his spineless father. He had never been able to avoid getting caught in the cross fire, which is what eventually got him sent away to prep school.
“My profession before the Primal Age wasn’t badass like you. I was the law. To protect and serve. All those dead people—it was my job to protect them. Now there’s no law. Like the radio, I’m a relic,” Mick said, his eyes on the road.
John ducked his head between his knees, hoping that whatever volley Tiny would return he’d be able to dodge. Unlike Mick, John was thankful to be away from the Old World. He’d hated his family and his school. There was no place he belonged, even now, but at least here was better than there. Here, every day came with a purpose. Even if that purpose was survival, it was still a purpose.
“I’m not about to give you a pep talk. We have a job to get done. If you want someone to make you feel better, talk to Kade when we get back,” Tiny said.
Letting out the breath he had been holding, John relaxed his grip on his legs.
“How can we ever repay him?” Mick said, throwing his hands up dramatically.
“I shot him.” The moment these words came off John’s tongue, he felt his face flush. Tiny’s eyes bore into the side of his head, and John refused to look at her, for fear her glare would kill him.
“I think we might have to do a little better than that,” Mick replied with a laugh.
She shook her head. “I’m just hoping that leadership doesn’t kill him.”
“Why aren’t you the leader?” John asked Tiny, instinctively tensing as Mick moved away from him. His body knew he was going to get hit before his mind could process the information. Tiny smacked John’s leg, which stung like a bee.
“I’m not made to lead. My mind functions on one objective. I can’t see the big picture like he can,” Tiny said, placing her hand back on the wheel.
“Kade might not know it, but this is what he was born to do. Trust me, Stray, the moment Kade Primes, you’ll understand,” Mick replied.
Stray. There it was again. He had never had a nickname he considered offensive or that made him feel like an outcast, but now he did. Stray. He loathed it, but didn’t know how to change it.
“I’m sorry I shot him.”
“I hope so,” Mick replied.
“Don’t worry, if Kade was here, he would say it was his fault for not making sure you were properly trained. And after all, he was the one inconsiderate enough to stand in the way of your bullets,” Tiny said as a smile overtook her face.
“So, it’s okay?”
“Hell no,” she snapped back. “You still shot him. Just, he’s not mad at you.”
A gust of snow whipped across the windshield. Without their weather apps, Internet, and meteorologists, they were completely unaware of the nor’easter that had been tracking north along the East Coast, blanketing the countryside north of Maryland in a foot of snow. A couple of miles south, back on campus, an inch of snow had already accumulated on the roof.
CHAPTER XIII
PRIMERS
___________
With Kade and X handcuffed to beds, and Tiny, John, and Mick on the road, the group’s manpower had been diminished. Ashton had volunteered to take watch for a while, since she had spent several days away. That was almost as good as a vacation for her. She held a.22 rifle across her hips as she surveyed the landscape from the Lambian dorm roof. The rifle was short and black from barrel to stock. The caliber was so lacking in punch, Ashton would have to be perfect to kill someone at this range. The rifle was a cheap composite, but it had been an effective tool for her father to teach her and her brothers to shoot.
Damian had been as good as he cared to be, which wasn’t proficient. Ashton and Kade developed a rivalry, as they did with most things. Kade would be damned if he’d ever let his little sister outshoot him, and Ashton would be damned if she wasn’t better than he was. Every time they practiced, they had a new trick shot with which to challenge the other. Whether that was a plastic army man, open sight at seventy-five yards, or hitting a swinging can ten shots for ten shots, they were constantly forcing the other to be better.
Below her, in the med bay, Kade wished he was a better shot with a pistol as he tugged his hand against the cuff that latched him to the bed frame. Beside him was X’s .357 revolver, and X had requested Kade shoot him with his own handgun if X did turn into a foamer. The idea of shooting X with anything didn’t sit well with Kade. He didn’t want to lose his friend, and wished Damian was here to tell them if he was safe. If the foamers turned out to be contagious they became a much greater threat than they already were. Kade had almost been bitten more times than he could count, and he didn’t want to die to such a slight injury.
Across the room, X was cuffed to the other bed. They were running low on things to talk about and had worn out
the novelty of I Spy and Twenty Questions.
“So, I’ve told you what you missed. How was the trip for you and Ashton?” Kade asked.
X rolled toward the wall. “It was good.”
In all the years Kade had known X, he had never shared the criminal aspects of his life, but he never dodged questions, either. His standard response to a question he didn’t want to answer was, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Just good? No hitches?” Kade asked.
Argos jumped to his feet and scratched at the door, and a moment later the door pushed open and Fenris ran in. The shaggy black dog stood cautiously with her tail straight as Argos sniffed her nose. Argos wagged his tail and Fenris relaxed as the two dogs playfully nipped at each other.
Grace pushed the door the rest of the way open, walked around the dogs, and took a seat by Kade’s hip. For the first time since he had met her, she was dressed in feminine clothes: a silky black top and a pair of jeans that fit her like a second skin.
“You look nice,” he said.
Grace leaned down and ran her fingers through his greasy hair, matted from days of not being washed. Her fingertips rubbed against his scalp and he would have purred if he could.
“Not too mad at John, are you?” Grace asked.
“Not in the least. He tried to help. Since I’m guessing Ashton told you if you scratch my head I’ll say yes to anything, you’re not here on the kid’s behalf,” Kade said, enjoying the pressure on his scalp.
“Ashton and I were thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” X said.
Grace shot him a glare, but continued without pause. “Whether or not your brother ever gets here, we need to put together a lab and do what research we can. Ashton says you were smarter than Damian, and I’m sure if we all pooled our minds and did some studying, we could at least figure out what we’re up against.”
“Just let me out of the cuff and I’ll go right on over to the science center and set up a lab,” he said, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“You might have genius blood in your veins, but I’m not an idiot. As much as you’re running the show, I’m not going to do something that will intentionally piss off Tiny.”
Until this point, Kade had been leading with his heart and not his head. He knew he couldn’t keep the group inside Lambian forever, but he hated risking Ashton so soon after he’d gotten her back.
He grabbed his walkie and pushed down the button. “Ash. Med bay, please.”
The moment he released the button, the room plunged into darkness. No lights meant no power.
A beam of light burst into the room as Grace threw back the curtain on the window. The low morning light cast them all in a ghostly glow.
“I’ll go check on that,” Grace said, leaving the room.
The camel’s back felt full enough without the added challenge of losing power. Ashton opened the door and was greeted by the lapping tongues of the giddy dogs.
“X is okay, right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” X replied. “Other than bored of out my mind.” A smile crept across Ashton’s face as her eyes met X’s, the two of them having their own silent conversation. Ashton snapped back to the moment and glanced at Kade, hoping he hadn’t noticed their exchange.
“You’re going to let us set up the lab, then?”
“Yes, but take Argos along,” Kade replied.
Ashton smiled and clapped her hands. “That’s great. We need to start studying.”
“You just have to unhook me, so I can take watch.”
Ashton braced her hands on her knees as she doubled over, laughing. “Yeah. No. Do you have any idea what Tiny would do to me?”
As frustrated as Kade was by everyone’s fear of Tiny in this situation, he couldn’t help but smile at her protectiveness of him. Tiny was right, though; he couldn’t keep doing stupid things. Something as simple as an infection could be the death of him. There was a fine line between brave and stupid, and Kade had leapt over it. He knew he had to start leading with his head.
“I figured I’d try. Be careful,” he said.
“I will.” Ashton placed her hand on his forehead. She closed his eyelids and patted him on the shoulder. “Get some rest.”
While Kade had his eyes closed, she quickly moved to X’s bed. With both hands sinking into the thin mattress, she leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. X smiled his stupid smile and gave her a wink. His lips moved silently: “Be safe.” Her gaze stayed on his coal-black eyes as she gave him a nod and then turned away, patting her leg to call Argos.
X glanced at Kade to make sure his eyes were still shut, and then closed his own.
* * *
From above, the Niagara Tribe base might look like a flea market and a medieval army camp all at once. The Tribe’s base, Victoria’s new home, was surrounded by a nine-foot chain-link fence that contained three separate layers of barbed wire. Inside was a hodgepodge of different military personnel and civilians who had taken the Rights of the Tribe. The Rights were created by the Three Chiefs, and were based on the needs of the Tribe at the moment the new recruits came looking for amnesty. New recruits might be asked to provide a set number of vehicles; a certain amount of food; track down technology; or, if the new member was a craftsman, perform labors. Once the task was completed, he or she would be assigned to a certain squad and unit based on skills.
Within the fenced area were tables of every shape, size, and color, spread out all through the compound. Currency no longer held value, and the procurement of goods had become a barter system: They all traded their surplus for what they needed. Some tables were covered in different types of ammunition; others held bolts and screws; some had canisters of gas; even a few held fresh fish from the river.
Other open areas were occupied by entertainment centers, like a basketball court, foursquare, horseshoes, and bocce; however, the snow had driven most people inside the unpowered buildings.
The units that prided themselves on their toughness and resolve, however, refused to take shelter indoors. They rounded up their vehicles into a circle and built a fire in the center. There were four main currencies that defined the rank of a squad; food, fuel, ammo, and resolve. Those that chose the outdoors earned the others’ respect for their resolve.
The base had once been a fenced in, self-contained, short-order town. It boasted two barracks, a motor pool, officer’s houses, a church, a supermarket, a gym, a dining hall, office buildings, and athletic fields. Most of the buildings that had been converted to sleeping quarters looked like what would be found after a tornado destroyed a town and forced the residents to shelter in the local gymnasium. The rooms had been cleared of their furniture and the floors looked like a patchwork quilt of blankets and sleeping bags.
The Primal Age had created a number of orphans, and about twenty of them were part of the Tribe. They were all entrusted to the care of two women who had formerly run day cares in the Old World. The orphans were being raised with the finest ideals the Three Chiefs could offer, and everyone felt they would be a far superior generation to those who had been raised in the Old World.
The Three Chiefs had been the first soldiers to s
ay ‘no’ when they were called up to help defend New York City from the rioters. They recognized what was happening and fought for their own lives in the mutiny. It had been a bloody takeover, but once they had power, they were able to broadcast their message. Other confused and lost military units journeyed to join them in Niagara. The entire Tribe had grown into roughly four hundred members, of which about three-quarters were former military personnel.
They organized the Tribe into squads and units. There were four members to a squad and four squads to a unit. In a unit, the first squad was composed of four former military people. The second and third squads were three military members and one support member from the civilian world. Each of those squads varied in focus between medical or mechanical assistance. The fourth squad was one military member and three civilian members that often acted in tandem with one of the higher-ranking squads.
Unit rank was based on accumulated wealth, so when members weren’t under orders, they often spent time running their own private missions to try to enrich individual supply caches. These expeditions were far from safe; between the creatures, the elements, armed civilians, and accidents, casualties were common. Whenever a squad lost a member, they could replenish their ranks from a lower-ranking squad.
Civilian members of the tribe were ranked based on their skills. The most valuable members were those who were educated in medicine. After medicine came the craftsmen: architects, mechanics, engineers, and construction workers. Their skills aided in maintaining their current base and adding more secure defensive measures than were already in place. Next were those with a background in agriculture, since at some point their provisions would run out. Then a small circle of those who had a career that could be mildly helpful, like a sociology professor, or a taxi driver. The final group was comprised of the ones in need of re-education—the business men and women of the Old World.
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