The Great Pack: Deathless Book 4

by Chris Fox

  “But so many of these people will die. Erik can—”

  No. Yukon bared his fangs, growling. Erik battles the notdeads. He slows them, so that his death can save his pack. But he will not survive.

  “I have to help him.” Alicia turned, sprinting toward the docks. Erik would be where the fighting was hottest. He was their strongest male; with the Mother gone, putting him in charge made sense.

  Not that anyone had asked her opinion.

  Please. Yukon’s sending was softer now, further away. He hadn’t followed her. If you go down there, I will lose you, too. Please. We have to save what we can. We have to live. We have to be there when she comes back.

  Alicia slowed her pace, suddenly unsure what to do. She could see the dock clearly now, could smell the gunpowder and blood. Could smell the faint decay carried by the deathless.

  Then she caught a whiff of Erik. Her ears went erect, and she strained to find him. Finally she spotted him, fighting a trio of deathless by the docks. He clutched his side, blood leaking through his fingers as he bared his fangs at his opponents. Several bodies lay near his feet.

  One of the deathless lunged, and Erik’s entire demeanor shifted in the literal blink of an eye. He blurred faster than Alicia could track, seizing the deathless’s head between his furry hands. Then he tore, ripping the head from its shoulders. The deathless toppled to the ground, and both its companions backpedaled. They’d realized that Erik’s weakness was a ruse.

  A short Asian woman strode out of the mist. She held some sort of gun, cradling it tightly in both hands. The weapon barked, and a stream of thunderous slugs tore into Erik’s unprotected back. He staggered forward, already turning to face the woman. He blurred, but she blurred, too. The Asian woman’s arm came up and a cloud of dazzling green light burst over Erik. Erik screamed, tearing at his skin. It burned and bubbled, and he writhed in agony.

  We are leaving. Yukon’s voice was forceful again, and his mouth settled over her arm. The teeth dug in enough to hurt, and he dragged her back toward the northern shore.

  Alicia clung to his fur, unable to stop the tears. They rushed passed several dozen people who were fleeing into the water.

  “I can help these people,” she said, forcing herself forward. She wiped at her eyes, composing herself, and raised her voice. “Gather around me. We’re going to swim together. I’ll be there to help people get across.”

  “Where are we going to go, kid?” an old woman asked, scowling at her. “This place was supposed to be safe. The land outside is even worse.”

  Pay her no mind, Ka-Ken. You are a champion, and your age matters not.

  The beast was right. She wasn’t just a little girl. She was a werewolf, and she could help these people. “If you want to stay here, you do that, lady. Anyone who wants to live, get in the water. We’re getting out of here.”

  Chapter 15- Yukon

  Blair quietly slipped through the still-open sliding glass door, gently closing it behind him. Liz and Alicia sat huddled together on the pile of blankets in the corner, deep in quiet conversation. He didn’t want to intrude on the moment, so he gave them what privacy he could.

  It is a bitter thing, Ka-Dun, his beast rumbled. Being a champion requires difficult choices, and many sacrifices. The young always struggle the most with such things.

  “Yeah, poor kid has been through a lot. But she’s also accomplished a lot.” Blair stared out at Santa Rosa, still trying to adjust to the lack of lights. The CME had knocked this place back to pre-industrial revolution technology, for the most part. There were no working cars, at least that he’d seen. No working electricity of any kind. It was the polar opposite of San Francisco.

  Goldenfur comes, a small canine voice thought at him through the packmind.

  Goldenfur, repeated another.

  The packmind buzzed with a dozen overlapping voices. Goldenfur. He comes.

  Blair shifted almost without thinking, using his muzzle to search for scents. The dogs sensed something, and seemed more excited than alarmed. Their tones were respectful, in some cases awed. Perhaps it was another Ka-Dun—whomever had assumed control of the truly massive pack that seemed to be roaming Sonoma County.

  He comes, the voices chorused.

  A four-legged figure flashed in the moonlight, bounding across the freeway in a slow blur. A cloud of dogs flowed silently in the leader’s wake, fanning out to all sides. There was a rightness to the pack, and part of Blair longed to join it, to seize control of it.

  The figure bounded closer still, crossing Industrial and starting up the hill to Fountaingrove. As it approached, Blair could sense the power radiating from it. The scent was familiar.

  Could it be? He didn’t dare get his hopes up.

  Golden fur flashed up the hillside below, cutting across the grass. It blurred closer, finally landing on the balcony next to him.

  Blair shifted back to human form, seizing the massive golden retriever in a hug. “Yukon, you have no idea how good it is to see you.” He buried his face in Yukon’s fur, grinning as the dog’s tail thumped against his leg.

  Blair finally released the retriever, taking a step back to look at him. Yukon was massive, almost horse-sized. He had a dark scar on his right side, a patch where no fur grew. The wound was scabbed over, and still healing.

  I knew you would find your way home eventually, whelp, Yukon thought at him, giving a canine smile. I did not expect it to take quite so long. It is good that you are here. Alicia will not admit it, but we need help. We face a foe we cannot vanquish.

  “What foe?” Blair asked. The last thing they needed was another enemy.

  Yukon’s fur began to ripple, his bones cracking and popping in a very familiar way. His body rearranged itself, the process happening as swiftly as Blair could have managed. Where Yukon had stood was now a broad-shouldered blond man in his mid-twenties. His jaw was covered by a thin beard, and brown dog eyes stared back at Blair.

  “Why don’t you come inside,” Yukon said, “and we can tell Alicia as well. This is not a tale I enjoy repeating.”

  Blair completely failed to process what he’d just seen. He could only stand there, gaping. “You just shifted into human form. Yukon, where the hell did you learn to do that?”

  “From watching you,” Yukon said. “I was changed by the Mother, just as you were. She gifted me with far more abilities than I could have dreamed.” He gave Blair a warm smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “The longer I’ve had these gifts, the more intelligent I have become—but I will always see the world differently, I think, even now that I can live like a man. I am still dog.”

  Blair wanted to ask about a billion more questions, but Yukon opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside. As he did, Liz and Alicia rose from the table as one. Alicia walked to him first, kissing Yukon lightly on the cheek and giving him a friendly hug. “Welcome home, my friend. I can already tell I’m not going to like hearing this. Sit. Let’s talk. How were you wounded? Windigo?”

  “No, not that murderous spirt,” Yukon said, shaking his head. “The pack and I were forced east by a horde of notdeads. We had to flee into the mountains to escape. We encountered the Liwanu, a Great Bear spirit. Many were killed, and I was hurt.” He touched his side gingerly.

  Yukon moved to a spot near the blankets. Settling into a comfortable cross-legged position, withdrawing a pipe from his pocket, he packed a small wad of green into it, then set the pipe on the ground next to his leg.

  He looked up soberly at Alicia. “We came back through Windsor. It had been attacked. Teegan is dead. We found pieces of him all over the town square. Windigo used his blood to scrawl a message. No one is safe. Windigo’s scent was everywhere, but we couldn’t find him. He toyed with us, letting a few dogs see him. He’d draw them off, then kill them. We lost eleven in three hours.” Yukon seemed spent from his speech. He picked up the pipe, withdrawing a red plastic lighter from his windbreaker. He lit the pipe, inhaling deeply. “It has not been a very good week.”r />
  He passed the pipe to Alicia, who merely held it. She stared down at her lap. “I don’t know how to stop him.”

  “Who is this Windigo?” Liz growled. Blair shared her anger.

  “Not who,” Alicia corrected. “What.” She licked her lips, finally looking up from her lap. “Windigo first showed up about a year ago, though we’d heard rumors about it for years before that. It started out somewhere further north, up in the forest near the Oregon border. He—if it is a he—made his way south, wiping out towns as he goes. He picks victims off one by one, until people panic and flee. Once they do, he hunts them.”

  “There was a Ka-Dun named Monte, up in Humboldt County,” Yukon interjected, taking the pipe back from Alicia. “His pack had many dogs, and looked after many, many people. They lived in a town called Garberville. He and his pack disappeared. Only the scent of their blood remains.” He hung his head sadly.

  Alicia took up the tale. “Now Windigo is here, and the attacks are getting worse. The problem is, we can’t ever find him. Like Yukon said, you get a whiff of his scent, but almost no one has seen him. We can’t be everywhere at once, so he just waits and strikes where we aren’t. I don’t know what to do.” The teen’s shoulders sagged. “People are scared, and some are already talking about leaving. I’ve warned them that they’d just be hunted—and even if they weren’t, where would they go? They can’t go north. To the south are the deathless, and we already know what they’ll do to us. Yukon scouted east, and it sounds like we’d have to deal with this Bear. We’re pretty much trapped. That means we have to stay and fight. I’m willing to do that, but I just can’t come up with a way to stop Windigo. I need to give my people hope, show them we can fight back.”

  “We’ll figure out something, Alicia,” Liz said. Her conviction sounded total. “Blair is an Ark Lord. He can bring incredible abilities to bear. Whatever this Windigo is, we’ll beat him.”

  Blair didn’t share Liz’s confidence. He had no idea how to find Windigo, much less stop him. There never seemed to be a shortage of enemies they had no idea how to fight.

  Chapter 16- Windigo

  Windigo lurked within hearing, using his host body’s natural mastery of the shadows to avoid detection. Even the vigilant dog who’d chased him around Windsor was unaware of just how close he was. Windigo studied the new arrivals, intrigued by their relative strengths. The copper-haired Ka-Ken was the most powerful he’d ever met, possibly the equal of the legendary Jes’Ka.

  The Ka-Dun was of even more interest. The sandy-haired man was unremarkable in almost every way, but he blazed like a bonfire. His power was immense, and Windigo had only seen it once before. That power was the same wielded by Windigo’s creator, a thousand millennia ago. Never since that time had he encountered a being like this.

  “I must have that body,” Windigo whispered, giving a ghastly smile. Who was that Ka-Dun? Yukon and the child Ka-Ken already seemed to know who the new arrivals were.

  He listened as they spoke of the Great Bear. Windigo was familiar with him, and unsurprised to hear that the Bear had hibernated to the present.

  “Blair is an Ark Lord. He can bring incredible abilities to bear. Whatever this Windigo is, we’ll beat him.” The Ka-Ken’s words were sweet nectar, confirming Windigo’s hopes. That was why the Ka-Dun brimmed with power.

  An Ark meant near-limitless power. Windigo could feed endlessly, growing ever stronger.

  Never had he hungered so for a host, yet never had he faced such dangerous quarry. The Ka-Dun were far more adept at defending themselves than a Ka-Ken or deathless. They even possessed the ability to unmake him, if they were strong enough. Fortunately, no real memory of Windigo had survived to this age. What people knew of the “wendigo” was disjointed, and often contradictory. They didn’t suspect his true nature—not yet, anyway. If he played the game as well as he should, they’d all die in ignorance.

  He cocked his ears, listening again. They were talking about Isis. The Ka-Dun believed she was dead.

  Windigo had heard tales of Isis, and had been very careful to stay way from her. She was even more dangerous than the Ka-Dun she had birthed.

  With her dead, Windigo had a chance—a chance to get and keep the Ark. Yet how could he safely bait the Ark Lord? What he needed was a host strong enough to threaten the Ark Lord. The Ka-Ken could certainly do that, but her defenses to his shaping would be considerable.

  No, he needed something physically powerful, but mentally vulnerable.

  Windigo’s face split into a too-broad grin. Yukon had given him the answer: he could possess the Great Bear, then lead it back here to begin slaughtering the Ka-Dun’s companions.

  Windigo turned east, leaping from the roof and bounding silently into the night. He would reach the mountains tomorrow, and after that it wouldn’t take long to set a trap for the Bear.

  Chapter 17- Medico Roberto

  Jordan sized up the compound below, impressed by the pragmatism of whomever had built it. The wrought-iron fence surrounding the main building was perfect for keeping out militia—or zombies. Beyond the fence was a hundred-foot stretch of brick, with nothing to use for cover. An attacker who breached the gate would have to charge across that space to reach the house. Snipers would pick off most before they made it.

  The building was three stories of dense stone, ringed on top by a crenelated wall. That stonework looked ornamental, but Jordan knew better. The architect had known warfare, and he’d built this place with it in mind. Form was important, but only where it didn’t interfere with function.

  The current occupant wasn’t blind to that function, either. Jordan saw two men prowling the deep shadows atop the roof. He could feel the power within each of them. They were shapers—Ka-Dun. He was certain of it. If there were males that he could see, then there were almost certainly females he could not.

  You’ve grown, Ka-Dun. You perceive much.

  “What did you say this place was called?” Jordan asked Leti. She’d paused a few feet away to drink from her canteen.

  “We call it the Government Palace, or the House of Pizarro. It was built in the fifteen hundreds, by Governor Castille. It has served the government all that time. Before the end of the world, our president lived here, and our congress met to pass laws. Our people thought it fitting that Medico Roberto took up residence,” she explained. Leti replaced the top on her canteen and slung it over her shoulder. “It is important. Symbolic. It shows that our people have survived, that we have not lost who we are.”

  “What are those obelisks?” Jordan asked, pointing at one of the twenty-foot-tall black pillars spaced around the wrought-iron fence. “I can feel them broadcasting some sort of signal.”

  “I do not know. I would guess they are some sort of alert system, but they could be a weapon. Medico Roberto has kept their true nature secret.” Leti began walking toward the front gate, which was manned by another pair of males.

  “That’s smart,” Jordan mused. “If your enemies don’t know what you’re capable of, they’ll be more reluctant to attack, and less prepared for whatever your countermeasures are.”

  The more he saw, the more pleased he was with how Doctor Roberts had handled his deployment. Either he had smart councel, or he’d turned that enormous brain of his toward basic military strategy.

  The pair of males at the gate watched them warily as they approached, but both relaxed as they got closer. One smiled and waved. “Leti, you haven’t been home in too long. El Medico will be most pleased to see you.”

  “Hello, Javier,” Leti replied with a smile. She walked over and gave him a fierce hug. “It is good to see you, my friend. I have brought a guest to meet with El Medico—one he will wish to see immediately.”

  “And who will we be presenting?” Javier asked, disengaging from Leti. His eyes became calculating, though the smile was still in place. He studied Jordan, probably sensing a lot more power than he’d expected—enough power to be a real threat.

  The power Jordan could
draw from the Ark seemed dependent on distance, but even several hundred clicks out the energy still felt endless.

  Javier’s unnamed companion had retreated to the guard house behind the fence, and was speaking into a walkie-talkie. Probably reporting to his superiors in the house, exactly as he should.

  “My name is Jordan.” Jordan stepped forward, offering Javier his hand. “Roberts and I go a ways back. Your boss doesn’t like me, but he’ll want to hear what I have to say anyway.”

  “Why don’t we let him be the judge of that?” Javier asked. He stared down at Jordan’s hand, so Jordan finally dropped it. “I have heard your name, Commander. It has never been spoken fondly, I can promise you that.”

  Leti seemed surprised by the exchange. He put a hand on Javier’s forearm. “Javier, please. Give him a chance. He is the Ark Lord, and we will need his aid.”

  “You are the lord of the Ark?” Javier snorted. “You are nothing more than a hired butcher. The Ark should belong to El Medico. He’s a wise ruler, unlike certain others who bear a mantle they clearly do not deserve.”

  “You don’t like me. I get that.” Jordan folded his arms, staring coldly down at Javier. “But I’m going to go see Roberts. I’m done talking with underlings.”

  “I can summon a dozen more champions with the press of a button,” Javier sneered contemptuously. “Your empty—”

  Jordan had had enough. He took a step closer to Leti, drawing a squawk from her as he scooped her into his arms, then blurred, fueling it with all the strength offered by the Ark. Hopping over the fence, he sprinted across the bricks, then leapt into the air, kicking through a window on the second floor. He rode the spray of glass into a large library and landed in a crouch.

  The walls were covered with shields, each bearing a colorful pattern or symbol. Seven people were seated around a large table, their chairs cut from heavy mahogany. Jordan could sense the power emanating from the people around the table, and two of the males were slowly turning their heads in his direction. Both were strong enough to pierce his blur. The first male was older—at least sixty-five, Jordan would have guessed.