Taming the Alpha

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Taming the Alpha Page 92

by Mandy M. Roth


  Wallace shook his head, but Dahlia was already out the door before he could stop her. Behind her, she could hear him let loose with a string of curses as he followed. A backward glance showed him carrying his machete.

  On the street, the crowd thickened to a stopping point as they circled their prey, stamping and kicking up dust like wild bulls. They jostled for position, shoving and pushing, and getting louder by the minute.

  “Burn him!” Scary Sherri screamed from the outskirts of the crowd. She jumped around the edges, vying for a view. Her eyes looked bloodshot and wild. “He’s a Renegade! Melt his bones in the fire!”

  “Every stranger isn’t a Renegade,” Dahlia shouted, wishing she could smash Sherri’s face in. She sheathed her knife before pushing her way through the crowded bodies. Peering through wide shoulders, she could see the man they’d taken captive in the center of the circle.

  They’d tied his hands behind his back. His fingers turned purple as blood flow stopped. On his stomach in the dirt, she could tell little about him except he was big. His face was obscured by brown hair feathered against the ground. His heavy breath stirred the dust and tendrils around his mouth. Not unconscious and still alive. For now.

  “Kill him! Kill him!” several in the crowd screamed. It didn’t matter who’d said it. They might as well all be the same person.

  Bloodthirsty bastards. She fucking hated this town.

  Determination, threaded with stupidity, nudged her forward without regard for herself. Dahlia’s small frame allowed her to slip to the front. She stopped at the inner circle and drew her knife.

  “He’s going to the cage ‘til we figure out what to do with him. If he’s got friends. If he’s really a threat,” she said, eyeing Eddy as he stood feet braced over the stranger.

  Eddy whipped around to face her. He pushed greasy hanks of brown hair behind his ears. “I see you got your pig sticker, girl. You ain’t no better than me. What the hell makes you think you got a say in this? Majority rules.”

  “I thought I was part of this town too? We haven’t taken a vote yet, and you’re ready to crucify him,” she gritted out. Behind her, a hand touched her shoulder. She knew instinctively it was her dad’s.

  “If you think he’s some kind of savior, you’re wrong,” Eddy said.

  Wallace cleared his throat. “We can question him. Find out why he’s here. We can’t kill a fellow survivor without knowing if he’s a threat. We’re not savages.”

  “Maybe you ain’t, but you’re the only one. He’s a Renegade. That makes him a threat,” Eddy said, then spit on the stranger’s back like the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

  The stranger remained motionless, but Dahlia sensed a growing tension beneath the brown trench coat covering his back and arms. He’d gone absolutely still.

  “Let’s just think for a minute. How do you know he’s a Renegade? Where did you find him? He might be able to help us. He could have skills we need,” she said.

  “Help us die more like,” Allen, one of Eddy’s cohorts spoke. He stepped up beside Eddy, his arms loose and his meaty hands clenched.

  Eddy and Allen dragged the man to his feet. He topped the others by four inches, putting him well over six feet tall. “Ain’t but one way to settle this,” Eddy said, sliding his knife from his belt while he kept his other hand pinched on the man’s bicep.

  Dahlia took a step, holding up her hands. She regretted not learning to throw her knife. Eddy’s face was a perfect target. “Don’t!”

  Eddy grinned, showing his brown-stained teeth. Before anyone could stop him, he jabbed the stranger’s stomach and wrenched a swath of destruction across his belly. Blood blossomed against the faded shirt.

  Dahlia choked back a scream as images flooded her mind. Jacob on the ground, covering his head. His thin body convulsed as they pierced his flesh and crushed his bones beneath their feet. Red flowed, turning the sand to rusty mud. Screams for help that wouldn’t come.

  “You son of a bitch!” She jumped forward, but something snatched her shirt, jerking her to a halt. Hands held her back from the assault. Dad? She wasn’t sure who. No one else cared about her here. She couldn’t think straight, could only see another person was about to die right in front of her.

  This time she’d stop it. She was sick of the killing, and sick of not taking a stand. They couldn’t live like this anymore. She’d rather die or be cast out.

  “Dahlia. Dahlia. Stop. Stop this. Dahlia!”

  Dimly, she heard her father’s voice, but the words didn’t register. A fog covered her mind, turning reactions sluggish.

  “Look you little fool,” Eddy growled as he ripped the ragged hem up the man’s belly. Eviscerated bowels showed through bloody, sliced skin.

  Dahlia struggled against the hands trapping her. Looking at the wound, she gagged, expecting to see his guts spill onto the ground. No one could live with a hole that big and deep inside them.

  The weeping wound stopped. Blood ceased to pour.

  She watched in horror as rendered flesh knitted itself whole right before her eyes, as if an invisible thread slipped one side to the other pulling the jagged pieces back together. Not even the seam of a scar remained visible. Only smudges of blood where an open wound had once been.

  Someone in the crowd gasped. Others screamed. Some turned and fled. The majority stood there, gaping and lax, not knowing what to do. They never thought they’d actually see one.

  Dahlia, suddenly freed, dropped to her knees and hung her head, unwilling to look anymore.

  There could be no doubt. Eddy had captured a Renegade.

  ***

  He’d expected it, and still, the searing agony surprised him.

  Connor’s natural reaction was to snap the ropes binding his wrists and choke the life out of his captor, Eddy. Compliance came with a struggle as his body itched for action.

  Connor grimaced and exhaled as the steel burned through nerve endings and shooting pain threaded his insides. It stole his remaining breath, made his knees weaken, and pushed bile to the back of his throat.

  Air hit feverish innards causing rapid cooling in contrast with the fire of pain.

  And then the pain stopped.

  Receptors in his brain flooded with dopamine as the nanos unleashed in a torrent. Heat spread through his nerves like a warm bath dousing his skin.

  Nanos engulfed the wound, repairing the damage as programmed from initial injection. His curse, a curse on all the Renegades, but without them…

  He closed his eyes, grateful for relief.

  Gasps of shock erupted from the crowd. Shrieks and cries followed.

  He blocked the sound. It was nothing he hadn’t expected or experienced a hundred times before on his journeys.

  Every settlement and ragtag group of survivors he met reacted much the same. Most disappointed him.

  Humanity, it seemed, wasn’t worth saving.

  Connor opened his eyes only a slit and glanced through the curtain of his hair at the female. Maybe that girl though. A tiny, bristly thing who looked like she’d take his fingers off if he came too close. She crouched on the ground, looking up at him with watery, hurt eyes.

  Her expression disturbed him. Why did he feel as if he’d stepped on and crushed a puppy?

  A voice shook him out of his thoughts.

  “Eddy! What in the hell is going on out here?” Hank, their self-appointed leader boomed from outside the circle.

  The crowd parted to reveal an older man. His slight frame and short stature made Connor wonder if he possessed the powerful voice that garnered everyone’s attention.

  “Took you long enough to get your old scrawny ass out here.”

  Hank picked his teeth. “Finishing my dinner before pleasantries. Y’all understand, I’m sure.” Wind ruffled his scraggly, pointed beard but not a hair on his head—for he was bald as a newborn.

  “We’ve caught a Renegade, Hank,” Eddy said, dragging Connor around to face him.

  Connor allowed himself
to be maneuvered. The test of merit was finally underway. He reserved judgment on whether this town would fail.

  “I see that. How is it you caught him?”

  “He was trying to steal cattle. I found him on my rounds of the perimeter.”

  Hank stroked his beard. “This true, stranger? What’s your name?”

  Eddy elbowed his ribs when he remained silent. “Answer the man or you gets the knife again.”

  The old man raised a hand and patted the air. “Easy, Eddy. I don’t think you know exactly what you got here or you wouldn’t be so fucking ballsy. What’s your name, boy?”

  “Connor.”

  “And you’re a Renegade?”

  “Yes,” he said, tight lipped.

  “We kill Renegades on sight. Why should we make an exception for you?”

  “Because if you don’t listen to me, you’re all going to die.”

  Nervous laughter met Connor’s statement. He’d gotten their attention at least.

  “How so?”

  “The other Renegades. They’ll come for you cattle.”

  Hank laughed as the others joined in. Connor noticed the girl kept quiet. “The others. Why didn’t they come with you then?”

  “I’m not part of their group.”

  “So I’m to take you at your word on all this.”

  Connor’s jaw clenched. He stared straight and silent at Hank.

  “You’ll understand I’m leery of taking a Renegade’s word on anything. I’m not a fool like Eddy. I know we can’t keep you from escaping. So how ‘bout you tell me why you allowed him to take you prisoner?”

  “It’s the easiest way to get past your walls without causing complete chaos. If you feel you have the upper hand, you’re easier to deal with.”

  “I’m glad you don’t take me for a moron. You see we haven’t completely forgotten civilization here.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Connor said wryly.

  “You gonna elaborate anymore on our impending destruction?” Hank said with a chuckle.

  “I think I’ll hold that close for now.”

  “I figured. We’ve weathered these threats before. We’ll do so again. Take him to the cage. Dahlia, since you’re so keen on saving the universe, you tend to him. Keep your new dog fed and watered but no playing around—this dog’s got teeth he hasn’t showed us yet.”

  Chapter Two

  From the top of the haphazard fence constructed around the town, a wolf whistle sounded clear across the dry, barren grounds.

  Dahlia flinched but ignored the whistler, continuing to her destination—the cage.

  They used the cage whenever anyone got too unruly and forgot their place. She’d been fortunate enough to avoid confinement, but then again, she hadn’t lived in the community but a few years. She and her dad tended to move on when people began to break down. Usually, that meant when food or supplies got scarce. Sometimes, it happened when sickness spread.

  The fence, constructed of old railway ties, tires, and sheets of aluminum roofing rattled under Eddy’s weight as he jumped from his post. He hit the dirt with a thud. Without looking, she knew he followed her. His footsteps on the hard packed earth grew quicker. Closer.

  A breeze blew his body odor across her. She tried to hold her breath, but the smell clung to her nostrils.

  His shadow fell across her path as he caught up to her and kept pace.

  “Going to see your boyfriend?” Eddy asked in a taunting voice.

  “Shouldn’t you be out with the boys herding cattle?” Dahlia said, looking straight ahead.

  “I’m keeping watch.”

  “Walking with me?”

  “I thought you could use protection from the Renegade.”

  The sneer in his voice made her palms itch to snatch her knife. She refused to allow him to unnerve her. Emotion was weakness with these monsters. She’d shown enough of that earlier. She couldn’t continue to make mistakes like that. “Hank wants me to feed him until further notice.”

  “When you’re done, you should come to my place.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “I figured if you’re that desperate for a Renegade, you got to be ready to give it up to me. You know I’ve wanted that pussy since you got here.”

  Her face flamed. She took a deep breath. “Keep dreaming.”

  Eddy stopped by the fence, and she continued on by herself. “I will sugar tits. I will. Have fun with your pet.”

  He smacked his lips as she hurried to the cage.

  They called it a cage, but her father told her they were originally kennels for hunting or herding dogs.

  Hank’s ranch had been in his family for generations. Acres of fenced grasslands kept the dwindling herd alive. The center of town held Hank’s home, which no one was allowed inside of without permission. The rest of the people had constructed ramshackle buildings and lean-to shacks from scavenged materials while Hank lived the good life.

  It would’ve been easy to be jealous of him, but Dahlia was used to a nomadic kind of life. She wasn’t sure she could handle being boxed into a house like his. That wasn’t for her.

  The cage stood eight feet at the highest point, with part of its roof covered by rusted tin for shade. Vines from a dead morning glory climbed and twisted around the chain links and up to the roof and back down to the perimeter. South of the well stood a rarely used outhouse.

  They only used the area now when someone needed to be punished or when they processed beef.

  Here the fencing broke down to simple rail ties. A fast moving river guarded the backside of the town, deep enough for a swim and not easily crossed with equipment. The water kept them separated from white peaked mountains and valleys in the distance.

  She’d often wondered what lay beyond those high rises that looked like low slung clouds on the horizon. Dad told her the barren lands beyond were desert and death. Without transportation, they would never make it to water, and he didn’t have the skills to find water on his own.

  Dahlia took him at his word. This was a good place he’d said time and again. A little orchard of fruit trees, cattle, running water, a semblance of civilization and room to hunt small game—paradise. They couldn’t ask for more.

  Except children, she thought, wistfully. Not something she would admit to anyone, even her dad, but she’d reached an age where she wanted a child. There weren’t any in town. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one.

  Maybe humans were just meant to die off. If the young couldn’t be nurtured and protected, what was the point in continuing on? The strong preyed on the weak, leaving the savage to rule the world.

  Maybe they were all sterile.

  Of course, if they weren’t—if she wasn’t—there wasn’t a damned soul here she’d consider to make a baby. She wasn’t willing to share a child with any of the men. Giving in once with one of them could mean they’d all come knocking at her door expecting a piece. She’d escaped being forced to put out by avoiding it all together.

  Which left her in the position of going out and finding someone she could leave behind or someone passing through that she’d never have to look at again.

  She wondered if Renegades were capable of producing children. Would she be infected if she touched him? Could the nanos be passed along to the unborn?

  A little bird flew from the roof as she slowed her approach. The stranger sat with his back against the trellis.

  As if he’d read the direction of her thoughts, he locked eyes with her.

  Her breath caught at his dark look, and she quickly averted her eyes. Her cheeks flushed with heat. She probably looked as guilty as she felt.

  A cracked and bandaged hose fed by one of only two pumps in town coiled on the ground near the cage. Tall, stringy grass whispered against the fencing.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see him following her movements. She checked to see if his bucket was full of water. Satisfied he had enough, she moved to the front gate with her basket. Strips
of jerky and a fist sized squash weren’t much, but he’d live.

  “You hungry?” she asked.

  He watched her steadily with shadowed eyes. “I could eat.”

  “It’s Connor, right?”

  He was slow in answering. “Yeah.”

  “My name’s Dahlia. You ain’t gonna try to escape if I open this, are you?”

  Connor grunted. “I’ll behave myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She watched him a long moment. “You need to relieve yourself? I could let you out a minute if you promise to come back in. Otherwise you can stay in here and be stuck with your filth.”

  His lips twitched. “I didn’t think there were any decent human beings left in this world.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “There’s a few of us left,” she said, unlocking the padlock to open the gate.

  Connor stood and approached the gate. For the first time she noticed he was holding something in his overly large hands. As he stopped in front of her, the faintest chirping escaped from between his fingers.

  “What do you have?”

  He spread his fingers. In his palms he held a small nest. Inside the winding brown twigs and grass nestled two tiny, featherless baby birds.

  Dahlia gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “How did you find them?”

  “The nest fell from the roof when Eddy slammed me in here. One died, but their mama has been watching me from the top since I got them. I thought, maybe, I could put the nest back up and she’d come back to them. If that’s all right with you?”

  Dahlia nodded and watched as he stood on a bucket and positioned the nest beneath the corrugated metal on top of the kennel away from the gate. He then pushed and twined vines around to secure the nest in its new spot.

  He dropped back on the ground and faced her. “Now we’ll just have to wait and see if she’ll come home.”

  She took a step backward and looked up…and up.

  She swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

  “You don’t have to be afraid. We’re not all monsters. I’m still human. Just with a little something extra,” he said quietly.

  Dahlia pointed to the outhouse.

 

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