Savage (Apex Predator Book 2)

by David Meyer

  “Get back here, George,” Dr. Sandy said.

  “Don’t worry.” Stepping outward, he stabbed his torch at the aggressive archaic. “They’re idiots. They wouldn’t know how to—”

  Two archaics swept in on his blindside. One hit his knees while the other delivered a devastating shoulder block. Dropping his torch, George crumpled to the snow.

  The aggressive archaic snatched up the torch and heaved it into the forest. It landed amongst a mass of cracked and splintered tree trunks. Withered branches and dead leaves started to burn.

  “George, get inside the circle,” Caplan shouted. “Torchbearers, give him cover.”

  George socked an archaic in the face, then scrambled over the snow. Other archaics rushed forward but Sandy and Ross waved torches at them. Reluctantly, they stopped and George was able to slip into the center of the circle.

  Caplan swung his head in both directions, checking the other torchbearers. “Keep going,” he called out.

  Shuffling his feet, he moved closer to the hatch. The wind ripped into his cheeks. The snowflakes felt like tiny icicles jabbing at his skin.

  The archaics, shrieking and snarling, doubled up their attacks. The torchbearers managed to fight them off, but it wasn’t easy.

  Metal groaned. The hatch slid open again and bright light pierced the darkness.

  “They’re reopening the hatch,” Tuffel said, grinding to a halt. “Get ready for more archaics.”

  Caplan frowned. By his count, the entire first wave of archaics had already been released. Of course, Savage still held plenty of pre-archaics. Had Corbotch rushed their transformations like he’d done with Morgan?

  New figures emerged from the depths of Savage. Scaling over a dozen ladders, they scrambled out onto the soil.

  “They’re not archaics. They’re soldiers.” Ross’ lip curled in anger. “The ones who blackmailed us. The ones who killed Mike.”

  Caplan watched the soldiers pour out into the night. There were at least a hundred of them, all armed for battle. The last figure to emerge from Savage wore jeans and a gray shirt, topped off by a dark red cloak. His gaze focused in on the cloak. He’d recognize it—and its owner—anywhere.

  Hello, Chenoa, he thought.

  The hatch slid shut. The soldiers took up position around Roberts. Acting as one, they aimed their rifles skyward.

  And gunfire blazed out into the night.

  Chapter 61

  Date: December 3, 2017, 1:21 a.m.; Location: Sector 214, Vallerio Forest, NH

  “Scatter,” Caplan shouted.

  Chaos erupted. Turning tail, Caplan sprinted back into the heart of Savage City. Meanwhile, his friends ran toward the ruins of small houses, toward the vault, toward the dying forest. Toward anywhere that offered cover. The archaic army, startled by the gunfire, fled as well. But they showed little interest in finding places to hide. Instead, they seemed most interested in getting as far away as possible.

  A second burst of gunfire filled the dark night. Ducking down, Caplan ran in a zigzag pattern, hoping to throw off any pursuers. Then he dodged behind the ruins of a small store. He plastered his back against a wall. The concrete, covered with snow and ice, felt cold to the touch. A stiff breeze made his teeth chatter. Breathing deeply, he refilled his lungs.

  What are you doing out here, Chenoa? he wondered.

  Yes, his group had won a few minor victories. They’d temporarily repelled the archaic army. They’d even started to forge a path back to the hatch. But he couldn’t imagine Roberts viewing them as much of a threat. Why would she come out to kill them now? Why not give the archaic army more time to finish the job?

  His bat-based torch dimmed, then died. Tossing it away, he sidled to the edge of the wall and took a peek at the landscape. He saw many people. They hunkered down behind brick buildings and dilapidated carriages. They hid behind fallen outhouses as well as old sidewalk signs advertising Prickly Ash Bitters and other odd products.

  Frowning, he scanned the street and open ground. Not that he was complaining, but where were all the dead bodies? He didn’t see a single new corpse, human or otherwise. Could Roberts’ soldiers really have missed every single shot?

  A brave—or perhaps foolhardy—archaic ran out to challenge the soldiers. One of them fired a few rounds into the sky and the archaic scampered away.

  Ahh. His eyes widened. The gunfire’s just a scare tactic.

  Clearly, the soldiers had orders not to hurt the archaics. So, they’d deliberately fired into the air instead, causing everyone to scatter. Now, they could march through the ruins with ease, picking off Caplan’s group in the process.

  Roberts barked another order. Maintaining a tight formation, the soldiers left the hatch. But they didn’t hike into the town. Instead, they headed toward the forest. Following their path, Caplan saw their intended destination.

  They didn’t come out here to kill us, he realized. They came to stop the fire.

  A mid-sized fire had sprouted up around George’s torch. It burnt rapidly, eating up the dead wood of numerous tree trunks. Smoke, thick and gray, wafted into the dark sky. Anything within a couple of miles would be able to see it. Other survivors. Modern animals. Reborn megafauna.

  And behemoths.

  A sharp tremor passed through the earth. The behemoth was already close and getting closer by the second. If it was anything like Dire, it would hone in on the blaze.

  Savage Station was, Caplan decided, in no real danger. Corbotch would’ve made certain the hatch could withstand the weight of even the biggest behemoth. But the archaics were another matter altogether. Out in the open, they had no real protection from the behemoth. And Corbotch probably wouldn’t be too thrilled if the entire first wave of archaics ended up as gum on a behemoth’s shoe.

  The soldiers stopped near the fire. Producing a bunch of red extinguishers, they doused the flames. The blaze winked out and soldiers shoveled snow onto the embers. The smoke thinned, then vanished.

  Archaics gathered together and approached the soldiers. At first, errant gunfire was enough to drive them back. But with each deliberate miss, the creatures grew bolder.

  An archaic grabbed for a soldier’s gun. The man shoved it away and fired a bullet into the sky. The archaic didn’t flinch. Instead, it slammed its shoulder into the man’s gut. He grunted and fell to the snow. Lunging and clawing, the creature gouged his eyes and tore up his neck.

  Soldiers turned to help their fallen comrade. Then a bloodcurdling howl rang out. A dozen archaics raced out of the forest. Rushing across the slippery soil, they crashed into Roberts’ soldiers. A few soldiers crumpled under the brutal attack. Others fought back, using their guns as clubs.

  More archaics raced out of the forest. They charged into Savage City. Looking around, Caplan realized his torch wasn’t the only one that had died.

  They were all dead.

  An archaic, hunchbacked and screaming, chased after Tuffel. Another one, sporting a long beard, slammed into Ross, knocking him to the ground. Two more archaics, twins from the looks of it, backed Mills up against the ruins of a ravaged jail.

  Heart racing, Caplan stepped away from the wall. He saw other people spring up from their various hiding spots. Some began to fight, others ran. Regardless, he knew none of them would last long, not when faced with so many archaics. He needed to help them. All of them and all at once.

  A snarl slid into his ears.

  He spun around. But before he could swing his axe, an archaic dove at him. His back slammed against the concrete wall and he lost both axes. The impact drove the air right out of his lungs. Before he could refill them, a forearm struck his throat. It pushed his windpipe hard, blocking off all oxygen.

  Keep fighting, Zach. His lungs started to ache. His eyes bulged and his vision dimmed. You’ve got to …

  Chapter 62

  Date: December 3, 2017, 1:32 a.m.; Location: Sector 214, Vallerio Forest, NH

  As his consciousness faded, the old wall started to sag. Then a sma
ll section of concrete burst into dust and rubble and Caplan felt himself propelled through a hole. One second later, he collapsed onto a concrete floor, gasping and wheezing.

  The archaic leapt at the hole. Its fingers clawed at Caplan’s feet, then his legs. He tried to back away, but his body didn’t respond to his commands.

  “I’ve got its legs.” Aquila’s yell stabbed through clouds surrounding his brain. “Kill it.”

  He choked down some air and his body started to function again. He slid away from the snarling, spitting archaic. He rose to his knees, then his feet.

  His head swooned and his vision dimmed all over again. Acting more on instinct than anything else, he jumped up and grabbed the top of the fractured wall.

  Frantically, the archaic scraped the floor. Its nails broke and blood seeped out of its fingertips.

  “Hurry,” Aquila said. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

  Caplan yanked at the wall. It refused to budge. Kicking his feet up, he braced them against the concrete. Then he pulled with all of his might. Sharp cracks rang out. Chips broke away. Ancient dust shot into the air. Then the wall came crashing down.

  It fell in a heap of broken concrete and mounds of dust. The archaic uttered a strangled scream, then fell silent. Its bloodied fingers curled tightly, then relaxed.

  Caplan crashed back to the floor. He took a few deep breaths, inhaling about a pound of dust in the process. Coughs racked his body as he picked himself up.

  Aquila stood on the other side of the broken wall. Her hair was matted to her forehead and a thin trickle of blood ran down her right arm.

  “Nice performance.” Caplan hacked a few more times. “We really brought the house down on him.”

  “Very funny.” She released the archaic’s legs. Her lips curled into a tired, but genuine, smile. “Need anything?”

  He shook his head.

  As she ran off to help someone else, he climbed over the rubble. He retrieved his axes from the ground, then turned toward the rest of Savage City. Tuffel had filled his arms with chunks of brick and concrete. Now, he was chucking them at the hunchbacked archaic. Ross was wrestling the bearded archaic. Mills, meanwhile, was no longer backed up against the jail. Somehow she’d managed to find her way to the top of a stone column. From there, she poured arrows into the twin archaics.

  He looked for Roberts and saw her hiking back to the hatch with her soldiers. Dozens of archaics continued to attack them, but the soldiers managed to club them away. In a matter of minutes, she’d slip back into Savage Station. The hatch would swing shut and the dozens of archaics would turn their attentions elsewhere.

  Namely, toward Caplan’s group.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He had to find a way to keep Roberts outside. No, he needed to do more than that. He needed to turn the tables on her. To catch her off-guard, to throw her off-balance.

  You’ve got one move left, he thought. It’ll probably kill us all. But hey, at least you’ll go out with a bang, right?

  He ran into the forest. Using an axe, he felled a dead spruce tree and sectioned the trunk. He piled up most of the logs. Then he split open the remaining ones, exposing the heartwood. He further split this dry, interior wood into thin sticks.

  He darted to a dead juniper tree and stripped off large chunks of bark, revealing a fibrous underside. He scraped away a bunch of fine fibers and gathered them into a loose tinder bundle. Turning his back to the wind, he used George’s lighter to ignite the tinder. A bit of smoke lifted into the sky.

  Hustling back to the wood pile, he touched the tinder to the dry, thin sticks of wood. They started to burn. While they caught steam, he chopped off a bunch of withered, dead branches from surrounding trees. He fed the branches to the growing blaze and a new column of gray smoke rose into the sky.

  Here, little behemoth, he thought. Come see the nice fire I made for you.

  The soldiers stopped short of the hatch. Ignoring the attacking archaics, Roberts pushed her way to the front. Her face twisted with obvious displeasure.

  He grabbed a long branch from the fire and darted through the forest. As he passed the ruins of an old barn, he caught sight of George Pylor. Two archaics circled the man, staying just out of reach of his baseball bat.

  Pulling out one of his axes, Caplan slipped into the barn. Quietly, he jabbed his burning branch at an archaic. The creature howled and curled its back in pain. Spinning around, it laid red-rimmed eyes on Caplan.

  Caplan swung his axe. It sank deep into the archaic’s stomach. Blood gushed forth. A dying howl escaped the creature’s throat as it sagged to the floor.

  Gnashing its teeth, the other archaic rushed Caplan. He saw its angry eyes, it drooling lips. It smelled of dirt, body odor, and blood.

  Dropping his bat, George tackled the archaic to the floor. Desperately, he tried to pin the creature. But the archaic powered out of the maneuver and bit the man’s arm. George screamed as teeth punctured his skin.

  Eyes aglow, the archaic released George’s arm. Its jaws lunged at the man’s face.

  Caplan yanked his axe out of the first archaic’s stomach. Rearing back, he threw the bladed weapon. It hurtled through the icy air and slammed into the second archaic’s skull. The creature fell still.

  George pushed away the dead archaic. Clutching his injured arm, he sat up.

  Caplan retrieved his axe. “Are you okay?”

  “Nothing a bath and a good bottle of rum won’t cure.”

  “You and me both.” Another tremor roiled the ground. It was the fiercest one yet and Caplan felt his fingers tighten around the still-burning branch. “I need you to do me a favor. Get everyone back to the vault. Don’t wait for me. Just secure the locks and take everyone to the lower floor.”

  George gathered up his bat and rose to his feet. “I’m not leaving you alone with these monsters.”

  “I’ll be fine.” The ground roiled again. “And the monster I’m worried about isn’t an archaic.”

  George’s eyes widened with understanding. “That’s a behemoth, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “We need everyone underground before it gets here.”

  His gaze hardened and he shot Caplan a quick salute. Spinning around, he darted out of the barn.

  Exiting the ruins, Caplan peered into the forest. He saw Roberts and her soldiers, fire extinguishers at the ready, hiking to the new blaze. But in the meantime, it continued to burn brightly, ejecting tons of gray smoke into the air.

  He hurried back into the forest and drove the burning branch into the ground. Finding another spruce tree, he quickly felled it. As he sectioned the trunk, an icy wind swept across the landscape, freezing his cheeks.

  Am I really doing this? he wondered. Am I really bringing a behemoth here?

  It wasn’t the greatest plan in the world. It wasn’t even a good plan. If the behemoth stepped on the vault, its paw would crush the concrete exterior to smithereens. Ensconced in the basement, his friends might survive the destruction. But they’d also be buried under tons of heavy rubble.

  Still, what else could he do? The status quo was untenable. Bringing the behemoth to the party, as dangerous as it was, represented his last chance to shake things up.

  The ground tremors turned into light quakes. Quickly, Caplan built a new pile of kindling. He used the burning branch to ignite it. Another fire appeared.

  He chopped off more dead branches and slid them into the fire. A second column of gray smoke shot skyward.

  Loud bursts rang out. Bullets whizzed by Caplan’s head. As they slammed into trees, he flung himself to the ground.

  “Are you crazy?” Roberts shouted. “You’re going to—”

  The quakes turned ferocious. An ear-splitting snarl cut through the night.

  Heart pounding, he lifted his head. To the north, he saw dense, dying forest. The snow fell thick and hard, obscuring his vision. But he could still see it. A hulking mass of shifting, thumping blackness.

  A deafening roar filled the night.
Then the hulking mass surged forward.

  Archaics and soldiers backed away, stumbling over the roiling ground. Trees cracked and splintered, falling before the hulking mass. Then Caplan glimpsed something he’d hoped to never see again. Something that belonged to this new world and yet, didn’t belong to it at all.

  The behemoth … it was Saber. But not the Saber he’d faced seventeen months earlier. No, this Saber was different. It was taller, longer. A behemoth of such proportions that it couldn’t even be called a behemoth.

  It was a mega behemoth.

  Chapter 63

  Date: December 3, 2017, 1:56 a.m.; Location: Sector 214, Vallerio Forest, NH

  Over the last seventeen months, Caplan had seen behemoths of all shapes and sizes. He’d marveled at their enormity and cowered at their wrath. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could’ve prepared him for Saber.

  The beast had once stood some thirty feet tall. Now, it was roughly twice that height. The dark night and swirling snow kept him from seeing its entire body. But he caught glimpses of its tree-like legs and its nearly-invisible swishing tail. This was truly a behemoth among behemoths and perhaps the only creature that could’ve challenged—and defeated—the enormous ArcSim.

  But it wasn’t Saber’s size that made his brain reel. After all, ArcSim had been just as tall until its untimely death. No, what really boggled his mind was the creature’s growth.

  He’d glimpsed plenty of behemoths over the last year and a half. And all of them were about ten times larger than their reborn megafauna counterparts. Saber had started out the same way. But now, it was some twenty times larger than a reborn saber. And that differential, quite possibly, was still growing.

  Rising to his feet, he scrambled between trees, putting distance between himself and Saber. As he ran, he thought about Morgan’s duffel bag back in the SUV. He thought about the logbook stowed within it. She’d known lots of information about the behemoths. She’d even figured out their usage of infrasound. And yet, she’d never mentioned anything about a mega behemoth.

  What purpose did a mega behemoth serve anyway? What ecological niche did it fill? Was Saber the lone mega behemoth? Or did others walk the planet as well?