by Jade White
There was little she could do now, except follow Ryker’s lead. He knew better; he had lived outside of the facility, he had interacted with people, whatever it was he did before he was forced into the lab. She had no survival skills. She realized that she was born specifically just to be a test subject, and no other skills were instilled in her, except for her ability to read and write. They had taken her childhood away from her; she was ignorant of the world, but she wanted to be of use to Ryker…
Ryker was lost in his own trail of thought. He knew he wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight, the adrenaline still rushing through him. He kept his eye on the entrance, hoping they wouldn’t find them yet. They needed to get through to Washington in order to get to Alaska. He was worried about extradition, though. Those in the East were far more lenient to werebeings, although they kept close tabs on them. No doubt, the government of the United States was on the hunt for them by this time. They were pricey test subjects, and he had won the last games. They would want both of them dead before the rest of the country knew what had happened.
He looked at Alexia’s hunched figure, knowing she was cold. He had thought about it earlier, of shifting to keep her warm, but the thought of being close to her body again made him feel awkward. It wasn’t his hormones that needed satiating; it was the fact that she just might die, and he would lose someone else he was supposed to care for and protect. He didn’t know her, he could have left her, but hearing a snippet of how her life was clearly mirrored his own. They had no childhood, they had no parents, and they had no friends. All he knew at the moment was that he had to survive, cross a border, come back into the United States via Alaska, and find that mythical group of werebeings who were thought to have been wiped out a millennia ago.
He had read in books that the country’s civil and nuclear war had caused the total destruction of Alaska. No one lived there anymore, save for a few military patrols. Winters were harsher than they had been years ago, with a record 200 inches of snow during those months. Can we make it, he wondered. They had around four thousand miles in between them and Alaska.
He had thought about crossing through Canada but figured they would keep a close watch on all entry and exit points in each state. Alaska was their best option for now, if they could get to Washington safely. They had to move fast, knowing the government would send out werebeings to do the dirty work for them -- werebeings who were trained to become soldiers, who could easily sniff them out from miles away. They could not change their scents, but they could mask them for as long as possible.
His mind was running with possibilities for survival. In the wilderness, he could survive on his own, just like how he had survived as a child. Alexia was a different story. Even though she had not been coddled in the lab, she had still been given proper nutrition and a roof over her head. The world would be harsh to her, and he had no way to mask its harshness. He did not intend to baby her out here, though. She had to learn, and learn the hard way -- without either of them dying, of course.
I’m not going to be another government statistic, Ryker swore to himself, hearing crickets and the rustling of the wind outside of their cave. Starting tomorrow, they would need to cover at least thirty miles a day, and how they would do it, he didn’t know. All he knew was that they had to get away, as far away as possible.
*
They stopped every once in a while for her to rest. Her feet were bleeding, and although it annoyed him that their stops were frequent, it also gave him time to plot their next course of action. He hadn’t seen signs and didn’t know which part of the country they were in, so he relied on the growth of the trees and the flow of tiny streams.
After the civil war, the country had been reduced to near ruins, and cities had to be rebuilt over the course of the century. The population had once reached 300 million in the 2000s, but it was now currently at 60 million. The country’s second civil war had been a devastating blow to everyone, and it had caused the dwindling of the werebeing population. They were an abomination, and yet they were fascinating -- just like a freak show.
He picked out berries for her to eat, glad there were safe ones. He couldn’t risk sitting down and starting a fire to cook whatever food he could catch in the streams. With berries, they could move quicker.
Alexia was quiet, and he knew she was troubled, but he didn’t say anything. It made things easier to just speak when need be. In the daylight, he saw how pale she was and how the bruises had turned purple overnight. There was a large one on her cheek, and smaller ones all throughout her arms. They needed to find clothes for her and for him. Autumn was not their ally, and winter would be an even harsher enemy.
As a human, he was a recognizable target; as a werebear within city limits, he was destined for an immediate death. Alexia’s condition would slow them down. He knew she needed proper rest, but he couldn’t risk getting caught because then their escape would be all but in vain. Ryker saw a road up ahead, and a car pass by, and he signaled for her to stay in place. There was a sign telling them that they were fifteen miles away from entering Pennsylvania.
They had walked that much, and the river had taken them that far. He was sure the facility and its people assumed they were out of New York by now. He nodded at her, and they crossed the road quickly; their pallid features stood out in the middle of the dark asphalt road. They crossed quickly, Alexia hobbling as best as she could, and just as they got behind thick bushes, they heard the whoosh of a trailer truck pass by.
Trailer trucks could be their way to Alaska, if the drivers weren’t alerted by their faces, which was highly likely. Trains were out of the question as well, as all trains were run by the government, whether high speed or for ferrying products from state to state. Ryker also had enough of bodies of water for a while; crossing lakes and rivers (and seas) was a last option.
They couldn’t very well walk all the way. It would take them months, and Alexia would never make it -- not with her frame. They slid down a hill littered with fallen leaves and branches. It would have been picturesque were it not for the fact that they were anxious to hide from the rest of the world. The woods were thick, with an air of creepiness surrounding them. They had walked for an hour when Ryker stopped, smelling something.
She looked at him wearily, not bothering to ask what it was.
“Come,” Ryker whispered to her.
He gave a short run and stopped in front of a hunter’s cottage, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. It was devoid of people; Ryker made sure of it. They quickly snuck in, with Ryker breaking a portion of the window by the door. His hand bled a little, but he didn’t seem to care. Alexia was shivering as she stepped on the wooden porch, staring around, as everything seemed new to her. Ryker surveyed the one bedroom cottage and saw it hadn’t been occupied in a while -- dust had accumulated everywhere.
They would spend the night here, he decided. He opened a few cabinets, and sighed in relief, seeing canned food and a jar of fruit preserves. At least this would fill them up.
“Find some clothes. There’s bound to be some here,” he told her as she sat on the bed, clearly tired.
She said nothing once more, standing up and rummaging through the cabinets by the bed. By the time Ryker had gotten back from surveying their immediate surroundings, she had found a hunter’s vest, a plaid shirt, two pairs of worn-out leather boots, and, surprisingly, a pair of women’s jeans that were a size too large for her.
He cleared his throat and turned his back as she began to change without even telling him she would. He took a breath and busied himself looking for a can opener, or a knife at least. There were a few unopened bottles of water at the bottom of the sink, and he took these out as well.
She walked up to him and grabbed a bottle of water, to his surprise. He frowned and saw how she quickly finished a bottle. Then she turned her back and went for the bed. It had been barely five minutes, and she was fast asleep. He stared at her figure in those ill-fitting clothes, and he felt a pang of empathy for Alexia.
It was apparent she wanted to crash from exhaustion, yet he hadn’t given her the chance to do so.
He sighed, wondering if he should kindle a fire, but then he decided against it. He found three candles, all melted into funny looking stubs, and decided to light just one. He would cook whatever they had found later, after taking the rest that he deserved.
*
Ryker bolted awake, his senses alerted by a different scent. Wildly, he looked around, his heart palpitating, and ready to shift in the event that someone attacked. Then he saw Alexia, hunched over the stove, trying to open a can using a knife.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he snapped.
“You looked like you needed sleep,” she replied, taking a step back as Ryker stood up.
Nightfall had settled, and the single candle on the table cast an eerie glow on their faces. He quickly opened the can, its serrated edges looking weapon equipped. There was a pan she had recently washed from the water he had drawn earlier.
Ryker didn’t smell anything off in the night, but he still wouldn’t risk it. They were cooking this shared meal above the candle on the thin, and scratched metal plates available. It would take a while, but it was better than a roaring fire or a chimney with smoke coming out of it.
They ate their meal in silence, using dented forks. Alexia ate slowly, unused to the food. So this was canned food; so this was corned beef. Dr. Delaney hadn’t allowed her to eat food with ‘preservatives’ for fear it would alter her body chemistry. She was hungry, but the food tasted foreign. Ryker finished his in less than two minutes.
He eyed her. “You should finish that. God knows when we’ll have proper food like this again.”
“It’s something new…” she began. “I’ve never had it before.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were some rich kid,” he commented, leaning against the chair. “Look,” he began, “I know this is your first time out in the world, but you’ve got to stop acting like it is. People will know, or people will think you’re crazy or medically dependent; then they’ll call on government officers and have you arrested.”
“I don’t want to go back…” her voice dropped. “I know I’m not much help, but please, I don’t want to go back.”
“Who says you’re going back?” Ryker told her. “I don’t want you there either. You’re a guinea pig-” he saw the expression on her face. “It’s a tiny animal with fur, and it’s a term people use for things that are made into experiments.”
She nodded, never having seen one. She imagined it must look like a rat. “I sometimes think I’m no longer human, the way I was treated. Only a few of the people inside showed me what kindness was; the children were kind, until they grew up and were tortured and taught to fight.”
“I’m not fully human, and I have no problem with that,” Ryker told her, annoyed at her self-analysis. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“How?”
“I tried to save a girl. They wanted to poach her; maybe as another experiment, maybe as part of the games. Whatever it was, they still killed her when they looked for me.”
“I’m- I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be?” Ryker told her. “You don’t know me.”
“But you saved me and took me out.”
“Only because Dr. Delaney asked me to.”
“You could have left without me,” she reasoned.
“I keep to my word,” Ryker said. “Get some rest.”
The conversation had to stop there. Too much talking meant opening old wounds and healing ones. Besides, tomorrow would be a long day. They had to get out of Pennsylvania tomorrow. Alexia was no werebeing, but she was as special as they came. She was a rare donor whose blood was needed by soldiers, tested on werebeings. Perhaps the doctor in Washington would have an answer to it…
“The bed is big enough for two people,” she said indifferently.
He shook his head. “I’ll keep watch. I can always take short naps,” he told her, feeling awkward that she had asked him to sleep beside her.
She shrugged and climbed on the bed, in full attire. He took a breath, making a mental note to wake up every thirty minutes. He was afraid of shifting inside the cabin, and afraid of hurting her. Sometimes the animal in him took over when he was extremely stressed or angry. He didn’t want that, and he hoped he didn’t need to shift anymore.
The minutes ticked into hours, and he found himself dozing off. He heard something that made him wake up. It was Alexia. Despite her back being turned away from him, he knew she was crying. She was as scared as he was of the unknown; they were scared of tomorrow, they were scared of the government, and they didn’t want to die. That alone gave him hope. If they didn’t want to die, they would do anything and everything to see this through.
Ryker suddenly wanted to reach out and touch her. Would a pat on the shoulder suffice? Would a hug? No, that would be too weird, and it would shock her and him. What was he thinking? He was entertaining thoughts that were beyond what he was supposed to think of. He had to think of ways to get to Washington; he had to think of ways to stay alive. Perhaps it was loneliness; perhaps it was that need for human comfort. Whatever it was, it annoyed Ryker and bothered him until dawn came.
CHAPTER 15
One week later…
Perhaps there was something good about the country having been plunged into civil war years ago. It meant many places had become uninhabitable; it meant abandoned towns. There were still places that the government hadn’t had the opportunity to repair. It was in these sad, deplorable places that they found shelter, and sometimes food.
These towns were a far cry from the glitzy capital and those states that had been favored quickly enough. These abandoned homes snaked their way through the country, and Ryker and Alexia had no idea which of these places were even safe. They relied on Ryker’s senses, at most.
He had stolen a sedan in Ohio and had been careful enough to drive within limits, but the moment they saw Alexia’s face plastered on a television billboard on the interstate, they abandoned the ease of it. Ryker had learned the basics of driving a stick-shift, but stealing a car meant they would be reported and traced easily. Alexia broke down that day, unable to comprehend why it was only her face on it. She was public enemy number one.
“It’s only because I recently won. They can’t call me a criminal yet,” Ryker said, trying to soothe her to no avail.
She didn’t speak to him that entire day.
Ryker’s wounds had healed, but Alexia’s hadn’t. They had broken into homes, gathering first aid supplies, and they had even stolen bags to keep what precious resources they could.
At the moment, they were making their way down a woody area, with Ryker holding onto an old map of the United States. If all went well, they would be well on their way to Illinois soon. While Alexia slept at least four hours straight a day, he barely slept an hour. He was on edge, knowing the government was well on its way to catching up with them. They sometimes slept in barns, rested in fields filled with hay, and once dozed inside an abandoned church. The government had made sure that religion of any kind was outlawed; there was only one Supreme Being, and that was the current president.
Ryker saw Alexia’s feet dragging on the ground. They had walked since dawn, and she was looking pale and sweaty, still wearing the same clothes she had gotten from the hunter’s cabin.
She was desperately trying to keep up with him, the memory of her face on a screen still fresh in her mind. She was wanted for ‘threats against the government’ and for ‘inciting tyranny.’ She was not a criminal, she told herself again and again. They had finished the last of their bag of chips last night, and they hadn’t rested since. Alexia’s vision began to blur, and she felt her feet give way.
Ryker caught her before her head hit the ground. He was shaking her gently, forgetting the danger they were in. He cupped her face with one palm, quietly willing for her to wake.
“Alexia, wake up. Just a few more miles and then we can rest,” he told her. Then he smelled something in the air, and his head shot up. A hundred feet across him was an old man with a sawed off shot-gun in hand. He held his breath, but his hold on Alexia tightened.
“What are you doing out here?” the old man spoke up in a gruff tone, his gun still aimed at Ryker.
Ryker felt the hairs on his nape stand, and he felt the blood rush to his temples. This was a threat; this was-
“Is she hurt?” the stranger asked him.
Ryker couldn’t respond. He was still waiting for one more sign of a threat, and he would shift, and then god knows what would happen next.
“Are you deaf, kid? Is she hurt?” he asked again.
Ryker blinked, feeling the headache ebb away and the blood rush fade as well. “I’m not sure; I think she’s sick…” he found himself saying.
The old man lowered his gun. “Alright, pick her up and follow me.”
Follow him? Ryker quietly stood up with Alexia in his arms. His mind was abuzz with questions. The walk was a quick one; nestled deep in the wilderness was a log cabin with no chimney whatsoever. He couldn’t smell any semblance of the old man being a werebeing.
“Put her down there,” the old man said, lighting a small gas lamp.
Ryker gently laid Alexia down on the old man’s bed. Then he stood straight and turned to face the stranger, trying to find the right words to say.
“Thank you would be a start,” the old man said, now busying himself with heating water and grabbing a clean towel from a cupboard. “I’m guessing you two are fugitives. I can smell the werebeing on you. But her, I don’t know. Is she some other werebeing I don’t know of yet?”