Savage (Apex Predator Book 2)

by David Meyer

  “It’s true.” Elliott’s squeaky voice gained some strength. “This is my decision.”

  A sharp pain filled Caplan’s chest. The thought of leaving her behind, of not being able to protect her, was almost too much to handle.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I’m not like you. I need people. Lots of people. People who can help me get through … whatever it is I’m going through.” She toed the soil for a moment. Then she stole away into the night.

  Ross waited until she was gone to speak. “We’ll take good care of her.”

  “I know.” With an audible sigh, Caplan rose to his feet.

  “Zach?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Good luck.”

  “You too, Noel.”

  Chapter 21

  Date: November 26, 2017, 3:45 a.m.; Location: North Maine Woods, ME

  “We’re running on fumes.” Caplan cast a wary eye at the fuel gauge. The little red needle had passed the E designation miles back and was now in uncharted territory.

  “Just a little farther.” Mills, on all fours in the cargo area, bent over one of her maps. “Take your next right.”

  Caplan coaxed the van another mile or so. A hand-painted sign, mounted on sturdy poles, appeared. It read, Welcome to Kal’s Camps. A smaller sign, attached to the bigger one, declared Vacancy … Come On In!

  After leaving Elliott, Ross and the rest of the Danter colony, Caplan, Mills, and Toland had hit the road. With no clear destination in mind, Caplan had aimed the van in the Vallerio’s general direction. When gas started to dwindle, Mills began to look for a place where they could refuel.

  He dimmed the lights and gave his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Then he directed the van, coughing and gasping for sustenance, onto a makeshift road. Maintaining a slow speed, he crept down the gravel until he caught sight of a wood lodge. A couple of trucks and sedans were parked outside the structure. They were caked with dried dirt and covered in bird droppings. Other than a few nicks and dents, they appeared undamaged.

  “Bailey,” Caplan whispered. “Can you check for infrasound?”

  She switched on the audio equipment and began fiddling with switches and dials. “No sign of it. But remember, we don’t know for sure that behemoths use infrasound. And even if they do, they probably don’t use it all of the time.”

  “I understand.” His gaze turned to the vehicles. “Nobody’s driven them for a long time. They might be good for some gas.”

  She nodded. “How do you want to do this? Fast and dirty or slow and sweet?”

  “You two have a secret language?” Toland offered a bored smirk. “How cute.”

  It had been a long time since Caplan had heard fast and dirty or slow and sweet. Perkins, Mills, and him had used that expression often in the early days. But with time and experience, it’d fallen by the wayside.

  He rubbed his bleary eyes. For the last hour, he’d driven in near-silence, consumed by shades of light and darkness. Every now and then, he’d snuck glances at Toland and Mills. He’d seen their gaunt cheeks, their furrowed brows, their steady gazes. He was thankful they, along with Elliott, were alive. Thankful they’d escaped Corbotch’s grasp. At the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about Morgan. Was she okay? What was Corbotch doing to her?

  “You’d know our language if you’d ever bothered to come with us,” Mills pointed out.

  “I had better things to do,” Toland replied.

  “Like what? Be a useless lump?”

  Caplan shook his head. “You told us you were a big game hunter. We could’ve used you out there.”

  “If you weren’t so ridiculously incompetent, that wouldn’t have been the case,” Toland retorted.

  “You talk big,” Mills said. “But that’s all it is … talk.”

  “Ahh, a cliché.” He shook his head. “How amazingly uncreative of you, my dear.”

  “Ahh, mockery over my choice of language. How utterly original of you.”

  “Stop it,” Caplan said. “Both of you.”

  With a small smile, Mills folded up the map. Meanwhile, Toland gave Caplan a caustic look. “Well, well, well … our fearless leader has something to say. Tell me, what disaster are you going to lead us into next, Mr. Survival?”

  Caplan resisted a sudden urge to pop Toland in the mouth. “Fast and dirty means we go in, get what we need, and get out. Slow and sweet means we scout the land before we salvage. It’s safer and more thorough, but eats up clock.” His stomach growled. Their reserves, the mammoth meat, everything. … it was all gone, consumed by the cabin fire. “We’ll take it slow and sweet,” he decided. “We need every scrap of food and water we can find.”

  He slipped outside. Looking back, he saw Toland still sitting in the passenger seat. “Are you coming?”

  “On your little walkabout? I don’t think so.” He pulled a lever next to him, causing his seat to recline. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. “Wake me when you’re finished.”

  Reaching back into the van, Caplan pulled the keys out of the ignition.

  “What’s wrong?” Toland cracked an amused eye. “You don’t trust me?”

  “I have to protect the van.”

  “From what?”

  The corners of his lips turned upward, forming a devilish grin. “From anyone who might try to steal it while you’re sleeping.”

  Toland’s eyes bulged. “Wait a—”

  He shut the door, ending the conversation. One second later, he heard the soft click of the automatic door locks. The sound caused his grin to widen. Enjoy your nap, he thought.

  He pulled out his small flashlight and one of his axes. Then he issued a few hand signals to Mills. Quietly, they circled the perimeter, looking for survivors, reborn megafauna, and behemoths. Finding nothing, they gravitated toward one of the cabins.

  Mills recoiled in disgust as she opened the door. “Ugh.”

  Caplan held his breath, but it didn’t keep the sickly-sweet stench of rotting flesh from flooding his nostrils. Months ago, he would’ve gagged at the odor. But he was used to it now.

  He aimed his beam into a living room. The space was outfitted with a wooden rocker, a few old-fashioned easy chairs, and a double-benched picnic table. A clothed woman, partially stripped of flesh and covered with a smattering of flies, sat in one of the chairs. Claw marks around her throat indicated she’d been choking shortly before death.

  “Another HA-78 victim,” Mills said.

  Caplan nodded. Together, they performed a cursory search of the cabin, finding two more bodies—an adult male and a little boy—in the process. Seeing the family like that—dead and picked apart by insects—should’ve caused his insides to hurt. But he’d seen a lot of dead families over the last seventeen months. And nothing about this one was particularly shocking. He wondered about that, about his growing indifference toward death. What did that say about him? About his humanity?

  He searched the drawers and suitcases, taking note of the clothes and toiletry items. Next, he checked the cupboards, finding canned goods, a carton of soda bottles, chocolate bars, and marshmallows. The powerless fridge held plenty of food, none of it edible.

  Mills grabbed a set of car keys from a side table. They proceeded to search the other cabins. Four of them held bodies. They found three more corpses in the lodge. But it wasn’t all death and despair. They also located more food, additional car keys, bottled and canned drinks, batteries, flashlights, matches, and plenty of other stuff.

  They headed out to the parking area. While Mills matched the keys to the appropriate vehicles, Caplan studied a wooden signboard. A carved map showed the surrounding area and he took time to memorize it. The local landmarks included Delta River, strings of giant boulders, various clearings, an old road, and a mountain known as Pyre Peak. A separate carved image depicted a close-up of Pyre Peak. The accompanying text indicated it had once been used for logging purposes. While the old road led up to the top, visitors were advised to avoid it due to lack of maint
enance as well as loose rock and steep cliffs.

  He left the signboard and helped Mills search the vehicles. They found little of interest. Afterward, they fired up the ignitions and examined the fuel gauges.

  “Food, water, plenty of gas,” she said, climbing out of a weathered, red truck. “Not bad.”

  Indeed, it was a pretty good haul. The supplies would last them a week, maybe longer. And that gas could take them a considerable distance.

  Turning in a slow circle, he studied the remote, deserted landscape. The place, although rather big, would make for a decent home. Of course, the bodies would have to be buried. And they’d have to dispose of the rotten food and use a little elbow grease to get everything spic and span again. But it might be worth the effort, especially with the close proximity to Delta River. Most likely, the waterway was suffering like the rest of the natural world. But if it held liquid, it probably saw a decent amount of animal traffic.

  Maybe we can come back here, he thought wistfully. After … just after …

  Mills cleared her throat. “There’s something you should know about Savage Station.”

  Instantly, his mind shifted back to the clearing. To her whispering silently into the night. It’s him, she’d mouthed. Obviously, she’d learned Corbotch’s identity while spying on the helicopter. But he’d failed to consider the possibility she might’ve heard other things as well.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “After Chenoa took you inside the cabin, I snuck along the edge of the clearing. A couple of soldiers stood guard near the helicopter and I was able to get pretty close to them.” She ran a hand over her tightly-woven hair. “One guy complained about howling noises back at Savage. The other guy agreed. He said he could handle the screams, but the howling was freaking him out.”

  “Anything else?”

  “These noises … it was obvious they were the result of torture. And not just of one or two people. It sounded like there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of prisoners.”

  He shivered and not because of the bristling wind slashing against his cheeks. “That’s interesting. Noel told me Chenoa planned to take him and his people to Savage, most likely as a form of punishment. She and James must be running a mass torture program out of there.”

  “What could they possibly hope to gain from that?”

  “I don’t know.” He stared at the sky, at the still-dark horizon. He hated the feeling of helplessness that pervaded him. “Let’s strip the camp,” he said. “Then we can bed down for a few hours.”

  “If you get the gas, I’ll start the salvage.” She studied the cabins and lodge. “What should I do with the bodies?”

  “Leave them.” In the beginning, they’d buried every corpse they’d stumbled across. But HA-78’s death toll quickly turned this into a gigantic burden. Eventually, they’d abandoned the practice altogether. In fact, Perkins’ grave was the first one Caplan had dug in over a year. “Just focus on gathering food and anything else that might help us. Use the suitcases to carry stuff.”

  “It’d be nice to have some extra hands right about now.”

  His temper flared a tiny bit. “We don’t need them.”

  “Them?”

  “The Danter colony. Who else?”

  “Actually, I was referring to Brian. It’s about time we put him to work.”

  “Oh.” His ire faded and he found himself wondering why he’d gotten angry in the first place.

  He tossed her the keys. She walked to the van, unlocked the passenger door, and wrenched it open. She and Toland argued for a few seconds. Then he climbed out of his seat and, with a sour look upon his face, followed her to the nearest cabin.

  Caplan hiked to the lodge and circled around to the rear. He located an old garden hose and used one of his axes to slice off an ample portion of it. Then he strode into the lodge and entered the Employees Only door. In the old world, portable gas containers were an absolute necessity for those who lived in remote locations. So, he had no trouble finding a bunch of them on some metal shelving units.

  He grabbed a couple of containers and went outside. He popped off the red truck’s gas cap and peeled back the spring-loaded flap. Then he eased one end of the tube into the tank. He placed the other end of the tube into his mouth and began to suck on it. Gas flowed in his direction. Spitting out the tube, he stuck it into one of the containers.

  He repeated the process with the other vehicles, gathering nearly three full containers of fuel. He used some of the fuel to fill up the van’s tank. Then he stowed the rest of it in the cargo area.

  Afterward, Caplan hiked to the cabins. He helped Mills and Toland finish gathering supplies. Then they rolled the suitcases back to the van and tossed them into the cargo area. While Mills lashed them down, Toland emitted a loud groan. “My back hurts.”

  Mills stopped working long enough to roll her eyes. “Poor baby.”

  Ignoring her, Toland looked at Caplan. “You do realize Amanda’s probably dead by now. And if she’s not dead, she’ll be dead soon enough.”

  He narrowed his gaze.

  “It’s time to forget her. It’s time to move on, to start thinking about our future.”

  “You’re all heart, Brian.”

  “Hey, I never claimed to be nice. Nice will get you killed in this world.” Twisting around, he walked away.

  “Where are you going?” Mills asked.

  “To bed,” he replied. “If you think I’m sleeping another second in that piece of crap van, you’re out of your mind.”

  He stalked up to one of the corpse-free cabins, yanked the door open, and disappeared inside. Seconds later, the door slammed shut.

  Caplan stood still, bathed in jets of cold air. It was early morning and the sun was just starting to breach the horizon. Behind him, he sensed Mills. Sensed her presence, her aching stare. She was close enough to touch. And oh, how he wanted to touch her. To feel her warmth. To wrap himself around it, inside of it.

  He turned toward her. Stared deep into her moist blue eyes and started to swim. It was just him, just her. Just them in the middle of nowhere.

  A small lock of hair slipped loose from her braids. He reached out to touch it, to brush it away. She recoiled a bit and he hesitated. But then she grasped his hand and pressed it against her cheek. Her skin felt soft, tender. But there were rough parts, too. Scratches, welts, and bumps. Tiny wounds accumulated over the last seventeen months.

  She pressed herself against his chest. Releasing his hand, she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck. Breathing softly, she stared into his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

  He leaned down. Pressed his lips against hers. Their first kiss. It wasn’t tender. It was hungry. Like that of two caged animals finally released into the wild. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 22

  Date: November 26, 2017, 8:48 a.m.; Location: North Maine Woods, ME

  Dazzling light slanted in through the open windows, bathing Mills in an almost-blinding glow. Caplan didn’t shut his eyes or even blink. To do so would break their trance-like gaze. A gaze that allowed them to share unspoken feelings and emotions. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. Fear. Defiance.

  Those feelings wouldn’t change. Not now, not later. They were permanent, unchangeable features of vast mental landscapes. He knew, accepted that. But for far too long, he’d sat on his feelings, hiding them from his friends. With the world in a state of free-fall, they’d needed a rock to stand on. And so he’d been that rock.

  However, it had taken its toll. He could see that now. He could see how much pain he’d internalized. To share those unspoken feelings with Mills, to have her do the same with him, was truly a magnificent gift. It made him feel, well, almost human again.

  They rolled back and forth, switching top to bottom and back again. Their toes clenched. Her fingernails dug into his back, deep enough to draw blood. His hands gripped her sides, pinning her just right. This wasn’t gentle, delicate lovemaking. This was wild, frenzied fornicat
ion. A type of ancient, animalistic intimacy, unknown to mankind since the rise of civilization.

  She grabbed his hair, yanking his face toward hers. Locking lips, they kissed passionately, even violently. He broke off the embrace and flipped her onto her belly. She moaned softly.

  His emotions and feelings slipped away. His mind went blank. He couldn’t think or rationalize or worry about the future. All he could do was obey the carnal instincts buried deep within his brain.

  They changed positions again and yet again. Their passion grew until it could be contained no more. And when they finally climaxed in a fit of uncontrollable fervor, their voices rose as one to the heavens. To the Almighty high above, begging Him to give this world another look. To see what had become of His creation. To see why it shouldn’t be left to the cold hands of oblivion.

  She collapsed next to him, gasping for air. Her body glistened with sweat. She lay there for a moment, her eyes locked onto his. Then she threw the sheet off with both hands. Breathing heavily, she stared at the ceiling.

  Caplan was spent, physically and emotionally. A part of him wanted to close his eyes, to dive into dreamless sleep. But he kept them peeled. Turning on his left side, he propped his head up on his hand and watched her. Watched her breathe, watched her body vibrate from head-to-toe.

  “A girl could get used to that, you know.” She smiled coyly before breaking out into giggles. “Oh, my God. I didn’t realize the windows were open. Do you think he heard us?”

  “Brian?” Caplan chuckled. “Yeah, he probably heard us. In fact, I’d say anything within a mile heard us.”

  “I can just imagine what he’ll say.” She adopted a gruff, overly masculine imitation of Toland’s voice. “Better you do it together than with other people. Wouldn’t want dolts like you two infecting the gene pool.”

  Caplan laughed. It felt good to laugh. Screwing up his voice, he mimicked Toland’s caustic tone. “Just don’t ever have a kid, dolts. The world’s got enough dumb and ugly already.”

  She collapsed into a cascade of giggles. Caplan smiled as she tried—and failed—to get control of herself. This was good. No, this was better than good. This was …