No Safe Haven: A Last Sanctuary Novel

by Kyla Stone

  She made it past the reptile house, the bonobos, the otters, porcupines, and eagle, the ostriches. And then she was circling back onto the flagstone path, rounding the enclosure with Kodiak and Sage still sleeping soundly. She was almost at the rear gate, about to turn into the narrow space between the bear and hybrid paddocks.

  Sudden voices to her right. Flashlights wavering wildly. Echoing laughter. Several Headhunters were clustered by the timber wolf enclosure.

  She couldn’t see clearly in the mist, couldn’t make out what they were doing—

  She skidded to a halt, panic roaring through her as the first gunshot cracked the air.

  19

  Echo let out the first cry, a cross between a pained whimper and an agonized howl. She heard the terrible thump of his body hitting the ground. The men laughed and high-fived each other, hooting and yelling in celebration.

  Their backs were turned to her. They didn’t see her take several shaking steps toward them. Didn’t see her standing numb and horrified on the path, fog swirling around her, exposed for anyone to see but too stunned to move.

  Five men leaned over the timber wolves’ paddock, rifles tucked against their shoulders as they fired into the enclosure.

  She recognized Cerberus, Jagger, Ryker, Scorpio. The fifth Headhunter was half-turned in the other direction. When he swung back toward the enclosure, a flashlight beam caught his face—angled cheekbones, narrow chin, spiky fox-red hair, the gleam of metal piercings.

  A sharp bitterness welled in the back of her throat. Damien may not have ratted her out, but he was one of them all the same. A Headhunter. A thug and a killer. Cruel and malicious, no different than the rest of these repugnant thugs.

  Another gunshot drew her attention.

  The Headhunters were shooting the wolves. For sport. For fun.

  The timber wolves had fled into the protection of the trees, desperately trying to evade the thunderous noises and explosions of pain. Aspen and Titus were snarling and growling fiercely. Loki and Suki were whimpering. Shika let out a long, mournful howl of despair.

  The Headhunters moved around the fence, hurling insults and laughing. When they couldn’t spot the wolves, they shot randomly into the underbrush

  Titus burst out of the trees, charging at the Headhunters in a desperate bid to protect his pack. Ryker aimed and fired.

  Titus took two staggering steps and fell with a moan. He didn’t get up.

  Cerberus and Ryker laughed. Jagger slapped Ryker on the back. Damien’s expression was indifferent, his eyes hard and blank.

  Run! Raven’s brain screamed at her. RUN! But she couldn’t. Her legs were lead. She felt dizzy, disconnected, her brain stuffed with cotton.

  Instead of fleeing for the safety of the woods, she backed away, spun, and stumbled on wobbly legs to the gate she’d left less than an hour before. She opened the outer gate, slipped inside, locked it. Crossed the no man’s land barrier, and repeated the same motions on autopilot, hardly realizing what she was doing.

  Mist curled around her legs. Everything had taken on an eerie, silvery glow. The fog was creeping ever closer, almost like it was alive. Like it would take everything she cared about and devour it, one murky, malignant mouthful at a time.

  More gunshots split the air. She flinched.

  Another wolf screamed in agony. She wasn’t sure which one. Suki or Shika? Her mind churned with revulsion and helpless fury.

  She had to keep moving. She staggered inside the hybrid enclosure, still not sure what she was doing, not even certain this was the safer option. The hybrids might be so worked up and frantic at the gunshots, they could tear her to pieces where she stood.

  But they didn’t.

  When she entered the clearing near the den, Shadow’s great head appeared. He whimpered, his beautiful amber eyes brimming with apprehension and bewilderment.

  She went down on her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the den. She shrugged off her pack and collapsed on the cold, damp ground, shivering uncontrollably.

  All this time, she’d been hiding and plotting her own escape instead of doing something. She understood now what they meant to do with the wolves, with all the animals. One by one, the Headhunters were going to slaughter them, butcher them for their own sick entertainment.

  A wretched, furious helplessness overwhelmed her. Shame and regret burned bitter in the back of her throat. If she’d acted last night, or even hours earlier, Echo wouldn’t be dead. Titus wouldn’t be dead.

  You were going to do the same thing, a voice whispered in her mind. But it wasn’t the same thing. Hers was an act of mercy, tranquilizing the animals first so they’d never feel the sting of the bullet, so they’d pass in peace, not with violence, terror, and suffering.

  The way her father had spared Zachariah. The way he’d wanted her to spare him.

  Shadow stood over her. He nosed her trembling shoulder with his muzzle. He licked her cheek. Luna appeared at his side.

  The white wolf stepped over Raven like she wasn’t there and paused in the center of the small clearing. She growled, her lips peeled back from her fangs, her ears flattened against her skull. Instinctively, she understood something terrible was happening, and she was angry. Luna wanted to fight.

  Raven sat up. She wiped dirt from her cheek and brushed off the pine needles. Her bones vibrated beneath her skin. She tasted her heart in her mouth. A chill crept over her, filling her veins with a cold, crystallized anger.

  She was done hiding. She was done letting fear rule her.

  She couldn’t run. She refused to run.

  She couldn’t leave the animals behind to be slaughtered. Animals she’d known since childhood. Vlad, Kodiak and Sage, Suki and Aspen, Electra, Mo, and Gizmo and all the others. Animals she’d spent so much time resenting she’d forgotten she also loved them.

  She was all alone. It was just her in the whole wide broken world.

  She was the only one who could do something. The only one who could try to stop this.

  Haven was her home. Her refuge. It was her job to protect it, to defend it.

  But there were nine Headhunters to her one. And tomorrow night, twenty more would arrive.

  There was only one option, one chance to save what she could. They might die anyway—half-tamed, zoo-raised captives unable to fend for themselves in the wild.

  It was dangerous. Maybe reckless. Certainly stupid.

  She would free the animals.

  All of them. Every last one.

  20

  It was after midnight when the Headhunters’ cacophony died down to silence. Raven waited another hour, crouched at the foot of the den, every muscle tensed, anger zapping through her like a live wire.

  Fog drifted, snaking between the trees. Luna was sleeping in the den. Shadow was stretched out a few feet from Raven. He was awake, alert, though his head was resting on his paws, his ears flicking this way and that as he listened to the animals express their anxiety and confusion.

  The bonobos screeched and hooted, pleading and begging for food. Kodiak bellowed hungrily. The remaining timber wolves howled in grief, their keening wail rising, rising toward the sliver of the moon and the hard, uncaring stars.

  Raven could make out three distinct voices. Three still alive; that meant three dead.

  She clenched one of the tranquilizer guns in one hand. The hunting rifle was slung over her shoulder—fully loaded.

  She would do her best to make sure the rest of Haven’s creatures lived through the night. After that, she didn’t know.

  With the world outside dead and dying, maybe there would be enough food for the animals. Without the humans encroaching on their habitats or hunting them to extinction, maybe they could survive out there, finally live in freedom. Perhaps one positive thing could come from all this.

  There were probably better plans. Smarter ideas. But she was out of time. And she was alone.

  Her dad would have known what to do. Whatever his flaws, he would’ve stood beside h
er and defended their home. And he would’ve done a far better job than she could on her own. The sudden ache in her chest stole her breath; it was so painful.

  Only a few days ago, she couldn’t wait to get away from her father. Now she missed him with a desperateness she couldn’t have put into words even if she’d tried.

  She’d be thrilled to see even her mother right now. I’ll forgive you, her mind whispered. I’ll forgive you if you just come back. Please come back.

  But neither of them was coming back. She was completely alone.

  She blinked hard and glanced at Shadow. No, not completely alone. Not anymore.

  It was time to go. Time to be brave.

  Raven unbuttoned her raincoat but left it on. She tugged the hood over her head and hoisted her backpack. She considered using the hoverboard, but decided to wait until she was safely in the woods. The lifting blades made a quiet whirring sound. She needed to be completely silent.

  She had what she needed. She would release the animals and then hike for the cabin. There was shelter there. Supplies, including a well and a generator. Solitude. Safety. She could stay there for weeks, months, even longer.

  The cabin would be enough. It had to be.

  She’d lose the security of the months-worth of food in the storage buildings. But there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn’t take the Headhunters on by herself. Not if she wanted to live.

  And she did want to live. Even if the infection was burning up her insides, even if the Hydra virus was there inside her, just waiting to show itself—even then. The Headhunters couldn’t win. They couldn’t have her. And they couldn’t have Haven.

  “Come on, Shadow.” She rose to her feet and wove between the trees. She didn’t hear Shadow move, but when she reached the gate, he was right behind her.

  Warily, she scanned the grounds. The fog lay white and dense as a stifling blanket, deadening sound. She could see less than thirty feet in any direction. Her pulse rushed in her ears, her breath shallow and panting.

  There were no lights. No shadowy figures.

  All was clear.

  She unlocked the gate with a press of her palm and opened it wide for the hybrids. She stepped through to the second gate and opened that one as well.

  Shadow regarded her curiously, tail half-raised.

  She gestured to him. “You’re free now.”

  He made up his mind quickly. He trotted through the gates, sniffing the ground eagerly, taking in all the new, strange scents. His ears pricked, and he turned back toward the enclosure, letting out a series of low yips.

  A moment later, Luna appeared out of the mist like a white ghost. She paused at the first gate, hesitating. Shadow yipped to her again, tail low and gently waving.

  Luna whined, ears flattening.

  Shadow loped to her and nuzzled her neck with his muzzle. He strode a few yards past the gate and turned, looking over his shoulder with that same encouraging gaze he’d given to Raven.

  Luna’s tail lifted. She took a hesitant step outside the enclosure. She lifted her head, sniffing, ears rising tentatively.

  Reassured that Luna would follow in her own time, Shadow bounded off joyfully toward the bears. Luna moved slowly, warily, investigating every scent and object before moving on, heading toward the center of the park—the walk-in enclosure with the lake and the flamingos.

  Raven watched them go, a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t really believed they would follow her around like faithful companions, like dogs. But the deep, wrenching disappointment surprised her. What had she expected?

  No time to pity herself now. There was too much to do.

  Raven went to the timber wolves’ paddock next. On a normal night, they would be locked in their night house. But this was no normal night. Even through the mist, she could see them in the center of their clearing, sitting on their haunches, heads thrown back as they howled their sorrow at the sky. The hairs on her arms lifted.

  She unlocked the gates and flung them open. Suki, Loki, and Aspen were the only ones left. She scanned the grounds for the bodies of the other three. She spotted a patch of blood gleaming in the moonlight. The bodies were gone.

  The Headhunters must have shorted out the electrified top wires of the fence with a large branch, then climbed inside to retrieve the dead wolves. But for what? For meat? Or something else?

  “The cage is open,” she called, ignoring the pain in her chest. She couldn’t think about the dead. She had to focus on the living. “Come on, Suki. Let’s go, Loki. I’m sorry for your pack. But it’s time to go.”

  Her brain told her she should feel fear, but she didn’t. Not after her terrifying night with the hybrids. Compared to them, the timber wolves seemed practically tame. They knew her, had known her father.

  Still, caution was needed. Don’t be stupid, her dad used to say. Stupid gets you killed every time.

  She pulled the gate full circle against the fence so that it made a triangular shape with Raven inside it. It wasn’t much protection, but the wolves had more important matters to deal with than bothering with her—like escape.

  And escape they did. Loki and Aspen galloped out of the enclosure. They took off in the direction of the lodge—or maybe it was the meat in the storage building they smelled.

  Only shy, meek Suki remained inside. She whimpered, lowering her body inches from the ground, her tail curled beneath her.

  “It’s okay,” Raven murmured soothingly. She remembered long nights cradling Suki’s tiny, shivering form against her own chest for warmth, remembered all those hours spent bottle feeding her, formula dripping down her hands. Sometimes, Suki had suckled the milk from her fingers, her tiny teeth pricking Raven’s skin.

  Suki inched closer, whining pathetically. Something dark stained her muzzle. Blood. Maybe she’d nuzzled Echo or Titus as they died. Or maybe it was from the rat she’d caught earlier.

  “Come on, girl. Come on.”

  But Suki wouldn’t come. Her whine deepened into a frantic, bewildered growl. The wolf was confused, petrified, responding to her terror with aggression.

  No matter what Raven tried, she couldn’t coax Suki from the enclosure. After several minutes, she gave up. She had too many tasks tonight. She couldn’t force Suki to leave her paddock. She could only hope the wolf would work up the courage to escape.

  She crept to the bear habitat as the bleak mist slowly enveloped everything. Kodiak and Sage were napping. They looked like great black humps in the gray murk. She quietly opened the service door and then the night house drop gate, careful not to wake them. They’d figure it out on their own when they awoke in an hour or so.

  After the bears, she went to the bonobos. They hooted and hollered, swinging enthusiastically from their rope netting when they saw her. Gizmo puffed up his chest, grabbed a handful of excrement, and threw it at her. It struck the viewing window with a splat and oozed down the glass.

  He huffed a hoarse, goofy laugh, grinning in delight.

  “Classy, Gizmo,” she muttered as she opened the metal door inside their night house.

  Bonobos weren’t as strong or as aggressive as chimps, but they could be dangerous without meaning to, though the girls had never shown any inclination toward violence, and Newton was the calmest of the bunch.

  Gizmo, though, was the excitable one. She repeated the same procedure, opening the door fully and backing herself into the space between the wall and the door.

  Like the wolves, the bonobos were much more interested in escape than her. Gizmo was the first to leave, whooping to the others as he scampered out onto the path. Pepper and Newton quickly followed, with Zephyr, older and slower, taking up the rear. All four of them charged the snack house, hooting joyously. They’d spent years watching humans relish delectable treats; they were determined to obtain some for themselves.

  Raven opened Hera’s cage, though her wings were clipped. She opened the door to the otters’ habitat, too. There was a river less than three mi
les away, though she doubted the otters would be able to find it. But she couldn’t worry about that now.

  She freed the tortoises, the ostriches. Maybe it made her an awful person, but she left Winston the boa constrictor where he was.

  The porcupines, Duke and Duchess, waddled toward her in outraged fury when she dared to invade their paddock. They turned their backsides toward her in warning, wiggling their gleaming, sharpened quills. She exited swiftly, door open, leaving them to their own devices.

  She circled to the western side of the park, freeing Sal, the zebra; the foxes, who scurried between her legs and streaked to freedom; and Electra, who only gave her a moody stare from her perch atop a faux-rock outcropping, her black-fringed ears flicking grumpily.

  And then there was only one animal left.

  21

  The fog thickened, shrouded the buildings in a funeral veil—like death, settling in to wait. Raven shook her head to clear it. She was letting the fog get to her, letting her imagination run wild. She braced herself, took a breath.

  She’d reached the tiger house.

  She approached Vlad’s enclosure with trepidation, doubt and indecision roaring through her mind. Was she really going to let loose a tiger? Over five hundred pounds of coiled muscle and brute strength. Two-inch fangs. Four-inch claws like blades, built for eviscerating prey.

  Was she insane?

  If she left him, he would die of thirst and starvation, if he wasn’t murdered by the Headhunters first. If she released him…she’d be releasing a lethal apex predator into the world. A predator blessed with a fierce, formidable intelligence.

  But maybe the world needed a lethal predator. One who could hunt the Headhunters. Or at least, distract them enough so the other animals—and Raven—could escape. The battle in her mind warred back and forth.