by John O'Brien
With the pain reaching a tolerable level once again, she stretches her arms forward, lifts up slightly, and pulls herself forward a little more. That’s the way it’s been for hours – reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait… reach, rise… Her senses tell her she doesn’t have long which pushes her to greater endeavors – reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. The pain she is feeling now is nothing to what she’ll feel if she doesn’t reach the lair.
Her mind reaches out but the only packs she senses are far away with many already heading back to the lair. She’ll get no help there. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. The white hot pain encompasses her entire body, flooding her mind with the shooting agony. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. She makes it to the edge of the grass and, with another effort, enters it. The safety of the lair draws closer.
It’s a race against time. Distance is her enemy and will-power her only tool. She wants to just lie down and give up. The desire to live won’t let her. She has no idea how she’ll enter the lair just a short distance away but will deal with that when she gets there. First things first, she has to make it there. One thing at a time. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. She knows she is badly injured and not even sure her body will make it through the night. That worry will be dealt with later. She does feel her life force ebbing from her with each effort. Each exertion tires her even more and she feels her energy being sapped. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.
Her surroundings are lost from view in the tall grass. The world has collapsed down to the foot she can see around her. The next few inches of progress require her entire focus. Off into the distance, she can barely hear the shrieks from the returning packs. A few howls of the four-legged ones drift on the night air. A hissing scream issues from nearby as two feral animals meet and fight for territory. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.
Her senses tell her that the sky toward the high rises of land is lightening. She has made it far but her crawling isn’t the only thing that has been moving. Time has followed her every effort. She feels a trickle of blood escape from her lips, hanging down from her mouth in a long string. Pain grips her insides as the throws up a mixture of liquid and the remains of the little food in her, hitting the ground with a splash. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.
She can’t see anything but the very top of the shelter ahead, appearing to loom over the top of the reeds. She’s close and a small amount of hope enters. Along with that measure, another tearing pain grips her and she slowly folds into a ball attempting to ward off the agony. With a small part of her mind that is still hers through the pain, she tries to will the hurt to go away. She needs to keep moving. Her panting breath is the only sound as the misery begins to ebb. On her side, she makes out the blackness of the night sky lighten, becoming the dark blue of the impending day. Her heart races with fear.
Uncoiling, she pulls herself another foot. She wishes her legs would work so she could push off and not have to rely totally on her arms, but she lost the feeling in those long ago. The stalks of grass surrounding her become more defined as the light increases. Panic enters her mind and she reaches out again, the dread of what is coming overpowering the pain to an extent. More of the shelter appears. She’s close and her mind begins to have thoughts of how to enter. Hope increases. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait… closer by another few inches.
A flare of golden light strikes the top of the lair and then the grass, slowly traversing down the stalks. She shrieks with fear and despair. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. The light from the bright, burning ball inches slowly downward. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait… Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait.
The light is half way down the blades. She sees the entrance ahead through the grass. She is almost there. Just a few more efforts. Reach, rise, pull, collapse, wait. Her forward progress is matched by the march of the light downward. It’s just above her position in the grass. With a shriek she reaches forward. The light falls upon her.
The moon continues to sail across the sky in the dawning light of the day, uncaring to the troubles below.
* * * * * *
Feeling drawn by both the two-legged one occupying her thoughts and the other strange one she felt, Sandra leads her pack north again. There are plenty of the small furry creatures to feed her large pack so she’s not worried about them eating. She’s intrigued and not sure which intrigues her more, the one who brushed her mind so long ago or the one who felt like her own kind but didn’t respond to her call. The intrigue with that one stems from his being inside the two-legged lair yet not feeding on them, or responding to her call. She also wonders why the two-legged ones allow him in their midst.
Watching over her pack once again as they scurry among the ruins to feast, she reaches out. She knows this will allow Michael to know where she is but she’ll deal with that later. She rubs her stomach subconsciously in a protective nature. The young one inside of her has started to show lately. Soon, she won’t be able to hunt with her pack and they will have to bring her food. That time will be short and then she’ll have to hunt for him or her.
Her protective nature, however, is overcome by her intrigue and infatuation with this two-legged one and that confuses her. It feels alien as she knows she should normally be concentrating on her young one. She feels torn but can’t help what she is doing. She senses the other strange one. He is still inside the lair and she wonders if he is being held captive by the two-legged ones. She can’t imagine being inside without wanting to feed… needing to feed… the rage would be too intense not to attack.
She sends the mental image for him to join but receives no response which puzzles her even more. She sends other images in order to establish some sort of contact but there aren’t any return messages indicating he heard. She calls once again to join her, to hunt with her and her pack. Nothing. She searches for the two-legged one but doesn’t sense him. With a shriek of frustration, she stops searching and joins her pack to feed.
* * * * * *
Alan wakes in a cold sweat. He looks around feeling terror mixed with eagerness and a strange thrill. His heart is racing as he becomes aware of his surroundings. Fearing he is downstairs again, the few objects in his cubicle become clearer in the dim light of the interior. At least I’m not waking somewhere downstairs tonight, he thinks, rubbing his face.
The dream, more of a nightmare but a thrilling one, fades slowly and he tries the catch the quickly disappearing remains. He feels more than sees that there was a call. For some reason, that call seems familiar but he associates that with the other nightmares he’s had since arriving at this compound. He feels welcomed by the people here and has a sense of safety but there is a strange pull to be outside. It is a deep-seated feeling of needing to be out that he can’t place. He feels drawn.
Images swirl in his head that both terrify and exhilarate him, arousing him in an odd way. They are pictures of him running through the night. Instead of the terror he used to feel in dreams like this, he feels a sense of delight. Perhaps that’s because he wasn’t being chased but rather doing the chasing. The visions he has in his head are of hunting and rending flesh. This repulses him but he can’t shake the stimulating feeling they present. This frightens him more than anything else.
The images vanish completely as dreams are wont to do. Alan rubs his face again and stretches. A giant yawn escapes and he settles back into his sweat-soaked sheets. His eyes close and he is soon asleep again. He doesn’t realize it yet, but a seed has been planted.
* * * * * *
Michael runs through a vacant field. He feels grass brushing against the remains of his pants as he races under the bright white light shining overhead. The chill of the evening he felt at the start of the hunt is gone. It is replaced by the heat of exertion and of the chase. He and his large pack are in pursuit of one of the larger four-legged ones. This one has large horns rising above its head and is fleet. These are hard to catch but the sweet meat is well worth the effort.
It’s been a while since he’
s actually chased down prey and he relishes in the excitement. His nose picks up the musky scent, they are slowly but surely closing in. This spurs him to greater efforts. He sent part of his pack around to the sides in an attempt to corner the animal and he keeps them directed with images.
He caught this scent earlier and the chase has led them through parts of the burned out relics of old two-legged lairs and across open fields like the one he is in. Some fences appeared out of nowhere but he hurdled those with ease, the solid thumps behind telling him his pack was still behind him.
He still hasn’t sighted the prey but this doesn’t surprise him as there is a wall of trees a short distance ahead. Leaping over another fence, he plunges into the dense brush lining the entrance to the wooded area. Michael keeps one ear peeled for any sound from the intruder from the sky. It hasn’t shown up for a couple of nights but that doesn’t mean it isn’t out there somewhere… waiting. He still doesn’t know what it is other than it is deadly and to be avoided at all costs.
His breath is coming hard as he races amongst the trees, darting to the side to avoid crashing into them. Low hanging branches scratch his face at times but he doesn’t register it as he knows he is getting closer. He can almost taste the sweet meat and feel the blood run down his chin as he tears into the flesh. His eagerness and hunger increase with the thought.
He breaks into a small open area enclosed by a border of trees. There, on the other side of the clearing, the animal struggles. His massive antlers are caught in the branches. Michael watches for a moment as the animal labors to break free. Breathing hard, with his exhalations causing puffs of white mist to appear, Michael launches forward. The large animal is still dangerous but the pack soon swarms over it and it is brought to the ground in a spray of blood from its neck.
He dives in with the rest of the pack. The eagerness of the chase is replaced by a deep-seated hunger. The smell of blood is thick in the air, spurring his excitement even further. He tears into a tender part ripping the flesh and chews on it with enthusiasm. Swallowing the enjoyable morsel, he lowers his head for another piece. Before he is able to sink his blood-stained teeth into the cooling body, he senses something he was worried about all night. He brings his head up sharply sensing Sandra far off into the night. She has taken her pack north by the two-legged lair again. With a growl of anger, he leans down to rip another piece of flesh off, his enthusiasm cooled.
Michael returns to the lair as the sky threatens to lighten over the mountains. Many of the packs preceded him and are finding places to rest. All of them ate well tonight and their small stockpile of alternate food grew. The only damper was Sandra’s insistence on traveling by the two-legged one’s lair. That will bring harm to the pack as a whole and he can’t allow for that to happen. The last thing they need is to stir up trouble from them. He waits by the entrance for her to arrive with her pack. Even though he felt a few of the pack members vanish from his thoughts this evening, he somehow knows she will return. She has become quite effective at concealing herself and her pack and he is surprised he sensed her this evening.
She appears just before the sky begins to change color. He stops her and draws her off to the side as her pack continues inside. It takes a while for them all to enter the narrow doorway but they eventually all pass inside.
“You went up to the two-legged lair again when I specifically told you not to,” he verbally says.
“There’s food to be had up that way,” Sandra replies, sending an image of the rodents in abundance. She has chosen to share this information with him hoping it will suffice for a reason to be up there and now knowing he won’t venture that way, even for food.
“I don’t care about that. You know why I don’t want any of us up there. You are endangering the pack by being near the two-legged ones,” Michael states.
“You are endangering us all by scurrying away and leaving them to roam at will,” she counters.
“I can’t have you endangering the pack by going near their lair. You will stay here and only go out to gather the alternate food,” Michael says. “They are dangerous and will be dealt with but we need to hunt and survive until then. We can’t fight them in their own lair. I’ll think of a way but until we do, you are to stay away.”
“I’ll find a way in and deal with them,” Sandra says, thinking of the strange one in their lair.
She doesn’t want to tell Michael about him just yet, feeling he won’t use the information and find a way in employing him. Not knowing how to use what she knows just yet, she does have a semblance of a plan circulating in her mind. If Michael finds out about it, he’ll definitely make her stay and ruin her chances of getting in and taking the female.
“No, you won’t. If I have to, I’ll make you stay in the lair. You have your own young one to think of,” Michael says.
“That’s who I’m thinking of. We can’t run forever and they’ll eventually find us. If they do, they’ll destroy this lair like they did the last. We were lucky we weren’t all in it. That is not protecting the pack. That is providing a slaughterhouse and easy pickings for them. We have more than enough to overwhelm them,” she replies.
“How are you going to get over the walls? How are you going to get into their lair? You’ve seen it. We can’t do that right now but we’ll find a way when we’re more secure and stronger. We’ll draw more packs together,” Michael says, growling.
“Every night sees the two-legged ones stronger. Our chances won’t get any easier.”
“We’re staying away for the time being and that’s that.”
Sandra growls her disapproval but nods. She’ll wait for her chance and scout out another lair for her pack. She can’t very well bring the female back to this lair, the pack will tear her apart and Sandra needs her alive. Plus, Sandra knows she won’t survive if she does, Michael will kill her. She also has no intention of staying away from the two-legged lair. She’ll figure out how to get in and then find a lair of her own. For now though, she’ll watch and wait.
Michael heads to find a place to rest from an exhausting night of hunting. He settles in knowing Sandra is keeping something from him. She is planning something and he’ll have to keep a close watch on her. He closes his eyes with his thoughts drifting back to the chase. The thrill of the hunt returns and, with those images drifting through his mind, he falls into a deep slumber.
* * * * * *
We wake the next morning, peel back the window blackout covers, and the gray of the pre-dawn light enters in the open windows. My back is sore from sleeping on the cots and I wish now that I had taken up the offer of a comfortable bed.
I radio Greg to check in, “Rise and shine, pretty boy.”
“Seriously?! Yours is the voice I hear first thing in the morning,” he answers.
“Sexy, isn’t it?” I reply.
“No, Jack, it’s the exact opposite,” he says.
“Ah, come on, you know you like it,” I state.
“If you knew what I was dreaming, then you’d know just how wrong that is,” he replies.
“And, now this conversation comes to an end. There is nothing I want to know less than what you were dreaming. As a matter of fact, the mere fact of you mentioning it makes me want to pour bleach on my brain,” I say.
“Okay, fine, I’m up but I’m bringing this mattress with me.”
“There is no way that mattress is making its way on this aircraft. Especially with you mentioning dreaming on it. I’m pretty sure it will need to be burned and I’m not sure even then that there is a fire hot enough to take care of it,” I say. “Now get your sorry ass up, round up everyone, and meet me on the ramp.”
“You are such a buzz kill, Jack. We’ll be there shortly. Greg, out.”
A short time later, with the sun sitting fully over the eastern mountains, Greg and the teams show up with Jason and a few others.
“I’ve talked it over with the others and, with the exception of a few, I think we’ll stay here. Thank you for your offer th
ough. However, Harold here wants to go with you and, between you and me, you’re welcome to him. He’s been nothing but a pain with his conspiracy theories,” Jason says.
I see Harold by one of the trucks with a couple of stuffed bags at his feet. I do not really want him but I can’t think of a valid reason for turning him down. I call him over and let him know that I won’t have any dissension spread among the group and he is to keep the conspiracy crap to himself. He looks down and then, with some obvious reluctance, agrees.
“Why do you want to come with us anyway?” I ask.
He shrugs and says, “I’ll say just this one thing and then, as you say, keep the crap to myself. Make no mistake, I’m sure that those that started this are still around and they’ll be coming soon. It seems you and your group is better prepared to handle whatever comes. And now, like I promised, I’ll keep quiet.”
“Okay, fair enough. Stow your gear onboard and find a place,” I say. He grabs his bags and disappears inside with four others who decided to come along. The soldier, with one arm around his wife and another holding his son close, approaches.
“Sir, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here with my family. Or what’s left of them,” he says with his eyes red and a tear welling up.
