Alive Like Us

by Hallows, Quinn

  Alive Like Us

  Quinn Hallows

  Published by Quinn Hallows, 2021.

  While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  ALIVE LIKE US

  First edition. October 7, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Quinn Hallows.

  ISBN: 979-8201574161

  Written by Quinn Hallows.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Twig stared out of the cave’s mouth, his sensitive nose wrinkling at the stench of impending death wafting from the human he’d stolen, and wondered what terrible force lurked amongst the thick, snow-covered wood.

  His master’s brittle maps, drawn by long-dead humans, had called this place Minnesota, and the enormous lake that bordered it was Superior. It was one of their last strongholds, thanks to the natural border of the lake, Canada’s gleaming steel wall, and the thick forest in which they hid like roaches.

  And then there was the demon who defended them, one who knew the secrets of the all-powerful Omegas. The demon that Twig, like so many before him, had come to kill.

  Last summer, he’d been in his master’s study when the only surviving crusader had returned. The poor thing had been without human sustenance for so long she’d reverted to one of the cursed ones—a primitive, walking corpse that humans called Infected.

  His master had managed to piece together an image from her rotting memories; a vision of a lake, a forest, and a bent, rusted sign that read “Canadian border 123 miles.” From that, his master had deduced the location and Twig took his chance. If he destroyed the demon, his master and all the other Omegas would finally accept him as an equal.

  The human whimpered, curling into a tight ball at his feet. She was a fleshy female, larger than most of her kind. He’d chosen her because she was young, strong, and wild-caught, not like the dead-eyed specimens born and bred on the farms. Her teeth were good too. Nonetheless, she’d been a burden ever since he’d taken her.

  He checked to make sure his face was covered, then nudged her cheek with his foot. She frowned and shifted, the pile of leaves rustling beneath her. Her hair had grown out during their months-long journey and now reached her rounded shoulders in a dark cloud. He hadn’t bothered to shave it—what did it matter to him if she got infested with fleas or lice or all the other nasty things humans were so prone to? The two small wounds at the base of her throat beckoned him.

  “Wake up.” He toed her ribs with his boot. The girl flinched. “I said get up.”

  He nudged her again, harder. Her eyelids shot open as if she’d been shocked, which made him feel better. Her eyes were as dull as the brown buttons on her mangy fur coat. Although the hunger burned inside him, he decided against feeding. She was too weak.

  She dragged her feet under herself, the ankle chains rattling. He’d stolen her before the tendons in her feet had been cut by her original captors to prevent escape—a good thing, considering the arduous trip was not without its risks.

  She stood, slowly, as if she were eighty years old instead of the twenty or so he assumed, given her near-perfect teeth. She braced her hands against the wall to keep from falling over. He picked up her leash and headed for the cave’s entrance. The cord snapped tautly. Such insolence.

  “I could kill you, you know,” he warned softly.

  “And then what? Starve?” she asked, then mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “ugly leech.”

  He pounced on her without thinking, a snarl ripping from his throat. The force sent her sprawling onto the rocky floor. He scrabbled up her torso, no longer caring if she survived the feeding or that his hood had drooped onto his small, uneven shoulders. His fangs descended and he felt the warm rush of life—her life—pump into him.

  Wait. He sat up, his lips warm with her blood as a single realization pierced through his frenzy. She’s not moving. She’d always fought him in the past. Had he killed her? That would not be ideal. He hadn’t seen a single human in weeks. He needed to keep her alive so he could feed on her blood at least a little while longer until they made it to the crumbling human civilizations that were rumored to exist near Lake Superior. Otherwise, he’d end up like the last crusader.

  He sniffed the air, following the scent of her blood. A thin, dark line trickled from her ear. She must’ve hit her head when she fell, the stupid cow. He listened for her pulse. It was faint. His fangs retracted. What was he supposed to do now? He was too small to carry her. The female rolled to her side and threw up. Gross.

  She wiped her mouth. “Where are we going? Are we almost there?”

  He bared his teeth at her, both annoyed and relieved she was alive. “Know your place, food.”

  The girl rose, slower than before. She shuffled forward, swaying from one side to the other as if drugged. The chains between her arms and legs rattled with each drunken step. It was going to be a long night of travel.

  He paused once they left the mouth of the cave and sniffed the air. Trees. Cold. And the faint stench of the Infected lying dormant beneath the snow. He could hear their subtle pulse, waiting to be awoken by either the warmth of spring or a more advanced form of their species. Like Omegas. Or him. His master had never believed he could do it, but he was wrong. Twig had practiced his psychic control over the cursed ones in secret for years.

  All in good time. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile. The demon would be on the lookout for sleek, powerful Omegas, not nasty little servants like him. It was probably the main reason why he still had a head on his shoulders, this deep into the demon’s territory.

  He jerked the woman’s leash and chuckled when she stumbled.

  They trudged through the snow, heading deeper into the forest. Pine and birch shot up all around them like silent giants, blocking out the starless sky. The ground grew firmer beneath their feet—the remnants of an ancient highway long since abandoned. They passed the skeletal remains of a small town, which amounted to piles of sticks and curls of rusted metal.

  After nearly two hundred years of war, disease, and death, so little of the human world remained. It was for the best, though. A new, more adva
nced race had arisen from its ashes and soon the entire country would fall under its control.

  All thanks to me. If he succeeded where all the others had failed, he’d have a new life waiting for him in the West. He wouldn’t be just another deformed servant anymore. He’d have everything he ever wanted. A silvery mansion perched on a ragged cliff overlooking the sea. Humans brought to him whenever he desired, and a mate to share them with. A far climb for a servant born on a scientist’s lab table.

  Others had come before him. Proud knights who’d paraded through the city on their way to kill the demon. Twig had watched them through the narrow, greasy window of his basement room and liked to imagined their beautiful faces being stomped in the mud by the very monster they were sent to defeat.

  He hoped their Final Death had been as lonely and cold as the hovel he lived in.

  Hours later, fluffy clumps of snow drifted down from the charcoal sky, adding to the ever-thickening blanket. Behind him, the woman wheezed, breaking his stream of consciousness.

  “I can’t...keep going. Please, Twig,” she mumbled.

  “Don’t call me that.” He tried to spin around, but nearly fell thanks to his misshapen legs. His master’s old taunts echoed in his mind, and his rage doubled. “I’m master to you. Understand?”

  She flinched. Her arms were wrapped around her, and the blood streaming from her ear had dried to a dark crust. Frost gathered around her lips. Once again, he smelled death.

  He followed her gaze to a large pine tree up ahead. The snow was thinner beneath it. She wanted to rest, the lazy cow.

  She sagged forward, knocking into him.

  “Fine,” he growled, shoving her off with a shudder. “We’ll stop. But not for long.”

  Humans were such a bother. Twig hoped the scientists back home would discover a substitute for their blood soon—something they’d been working on for years. Fables told of such a thing prior to the First Night, but if it had once existed, the process had been lost after the human world fell apart.

  He trudged towards the tree, pulling her behind him. The tether between them grew taut. The young woman had dropped to her knees and was throwing up. Again. His nostrils curled at the caustic smell.

  “Hurry up,” he tugged the chains.

  “Just...” she rested her forehead on the snow. “Kill me...please.”

  Branches snapped to the right as a pack of wolves slinked through the underbrush, watching them. A gray one paused and sized him up, one predator to another. Twig kicked the girl in the small of her back. She sprawled onto the snow with a soft cry. “Crawl.”

  She did, slowly. Painfully. Every limb quivered with effort.

  Her spirit had burnt out, and the realization made him feel better than he had all night. Sure, this was a bit of a distraction, but why go on a trip if you couldn’t have a little fun?

  The human collapsed against the tree, her eyelids closed. The tears sliding down her cheeks made his stomach curdle. What a weak, worthless creature. No wonder her kind had all but faded from the outside world. He tossed a bundle of dried food into her lap. She didn’t even flinch.

  “My legs hurt. The chains are too heavy, dragging through all this snow.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have tried to escape yesterday.”

  “I wasn’t running—I was peeing.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I believe you don’t want to waste time hunting. The others will be here soon, and they’re a lot stronger than you. If they find the demon—”

  “They won’t.”

  “They’ll smell you. And they’ll wonder what a servant is doing so far away from the cities.” She pulled her knees beneath her chin, the chain between them creating a small hill of snow in front of her. “I’d move a lot faster without these.”

  “Shut up and eat.” Twig glared out into the forest. He hadn’t thought of his scent leading the competition all the way here. Hopefully, they’d dismiss it as one of the Infected, but he didn’t want to take any chances. They had to move faster.

  He ripped the food pouch from her hands and tied it to his waist. She’d eat the whole thing if he’d let her. She slumped to her side. He listened for the sound of her breath but found only silence. He lunged forward, panic clawing his chest. He knew from his time at the farms that human head injuries were tricky things. He searched for a pulse.

  Click. Icy metal slid around his wrist. Pain burst in his skull. Black dots peppered his vision. He fell to his knees, confused, and spotted the woman’s worn shoes near him. She was towering over him, clutching a bloodied rock. Hatred burned in her eyes.

  How dare she! How dare she do this! He lunged, blind with fury, and jerked backward. He was chained to the tree like a mongrel. She glared down at him, her lips curling into a satisfied grin.

  “I picked the lock yesterday, while you were sleeping.”

  Pure, white-hot rage filled him. He thrashed against the steel chain, snapping the air with his fangs. The clouds shifted overhead, and moonlight filtered through the thick evergreen canopy, dazzling the snow beneath.

  The human’s smirk twisted into revulsion. He froze, his heart sinking into the dark pit inside him. She must have seen his face. The cow had seen his face! “Don’t look at me.” He scuttled behind the tree. “Don’t you dare look at me!”

  He’d been careful to keep his face covered with his scarf and hood. It had been so long since anyone had seen his aching, tortured flesh that he’d forgotten the pain of their stare. The virus may have given him life, but it was a damned one. He wasn’t beautiful, like the Omegas. He was made—stitched together from ragged bits of corpses—for the sole purpose of serving others. Anyone could tell by looking at him that he was a slave.

  The gray wolf padded back into view, stopping to stare at him. The sight of the creature calmed his electrified nerves and cleared his thoughts. The human may have seen him, but she was half-crazy already and wouldn’t survive long in the forest.

  He closed his eyes and called to his brethren beneath the snow, softly at first, then louder when he realized how deeply they were sleeping. He’d need them all if he was going to prove himself and take his rightful place.

  A gnarled hand shot up from the snow, the black veins wrapped around its wasted flesh inflating with each pulse of its shriveled heart.

  Yes. There was no way Twig could free himself. He was designed to be weak. Broken. Forever bowing to the will of the Omegas. But the scientists who created him had made a fatal mistake. They’d given him a brain filled with wants and needs and desires that chafed every day he spent as a servant.

  The cursed ones would break his chains. They’d be his strength. His armor. With their help, he’d be as strong as any Omega.

  He carefully wrapped the scarf around his face, then pulled up his hood. He’d stick to his plan. Show them all. He’d kill the demon and take its head, then find the girl who’d escaped and make her scream just like he had when he’d awoken on that lab table, so many years ago.

  THEY WERE supposed to be hibernating.

  It was the only reason Kai Merrick had set out on this death-wish of a journey. And yet, the further he got from civilization, the more obvious it became that the Infected may have finally evolved after two hundred years of seasonal terror.

  Frankie, his furry companion, had stopped a few yards ahead. His ears pricked and the fur along his twisted spine spiked. Kai drew an arrow and nocked it, listening for the sound of branches snapping. Snow crunching. The eerie click of teeth.

  The wind howled.

  A squirrel zigzagged across their path. Frankie lunged into a half-hearted chase. The tension gripping Kai’s neck eased, but the cold dread in his stomach remained. He lowered the bow and slipped the arrow back into his quiver.

  Frankie lost interest a few yards later and plunked down on the ground next to a pine tree. His tail swept the snow, revealing a dull, metal chain. Intrigued, Kai crossed over the dog, who danced aside, his tongue lolling, and un
earthed the length. A pair of shackles, one end looped around the trunk and secured by the handcuff, while the other ended in a contorted, broken link.

  Kai dropped the chain with a shudder. Strange things happened in the Deadlands. Some believed the no-man’s-land between the walled human cities and remote colonies made people go crazy, but he’d always thought the space just revealed a person’s true nature after the veneer of civilization had been stripped away.

  “Good luck,” Kai muttered to whoever had escaped the shackles. “You’re going to need it.”

  He trudged onward, wincing as he rolled his throbbing shoulders. At first, his sister Esme had seemed as light as a kitten. Now, she felt like a boulder strapped to his back. Snow had worked its way through the worn stitching of his boots and melted, making his feet both wet and cold. He was tired and hungry, and his nose hadn’t stopped running since they’d left the cave.

  The cave.

  He thought once more about turning around. Judging from the sun’s angle, they could still make it back by dusk, when the Infected were most active. His plan was beyond stupid anyway. What were their chances of finding a healer in the middle of such a desolate, lonely place?

  He turned around, fully intending on retreat, and spotted his tracks in the snow. If he went back, what would be waiting there for Esme?

  Death.

  She was far beyond saving with his meager supplies and limited knowledge. He’d be lucky if she survived the night, let alone recover.

  Her face lolled against his neck. Her skin was hot and sweaty despite the cold.

  “Mom.” She sniffled. “No more class. Please.”

  She was delirious. Their parents died years ago.

  “Just...” Kai swallowed around the hard lump that had lodged in his throat since the girl had taken ill. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

  She’d always been frail and prone to illness, but this was the worst he’d seen her. He’d dismissed her complaints of being tired and achy as just a twelve-year-old’s laziness. Last night, when her fever spiked, he’d realized it was serious. Deadly serious. The weight on his chest from ignoring her earlier pleas was something he’d carry for the rest of his life.