Into Shadow

by T. D. Shields

  I had learned that this new world in which I found myself was much more direct. Playing games and withholding information from an ally here would be considered untrustworthy, while in my old life that would be an expected and reasonable precaution. My best shot at getting the shelter I needed and, just possibly, assistance in coming up with a plan to bring down Cruz, was to tell them both the whole story. Besides, Sharra had surely told him everything she knew about me already.

  When I’d finished my recitation of the events from the last several months, Lucas was silent. He stared at the wall behind my head and chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip as he considered my story. Finally, he turned to me and said,

  “I would suggest that we keep the whole ‘president’s daughter’ thing under wraps for now. Hard to know how some folks might react. The pack leadership knows – Sharra told us about you when she returned from Goodland. But as far as anyone else here needs to know for now, you’re just Poppy – no last name. You joined up with Sharra in Goodland, and you’re just one of the pack here. That work for you?”

  “I am just one of the pack,” I pointed out. “Unless you need someone to arrange a dinner reception for visiting dignitaries, my skill set isn’t exactly in demand here.”

  “You might be surprised,” he said enigmatically. I waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more as he got to his feet and walked to the door.

  “We’ll talk more,” he promised me. “But for now I leave you in Sharra’s capable hands. You wanted her for guard rotation?” he asked Sharra.

  “Definitely,” she agreed. “I’ve got five on medical right now, which puts the patrol levels a lot lower than I’m comfortable with. I’ve seen Red in action and she has some serious skills; I need her a lot more than they need another veggie chopper in the kitchens.”

  Turning to me she explained, “I’m the guard captain, so I’m conscripting you for duty. Otherwise, you’d be put on a domestic rotation and scrub toilets. They always make the newbies scrub toilets for a while.”

  “Well then, I’m glad you’re sparing me that. What am I doing instead?”

  “The guards patrol our borders and territory. We keep our streets clear of scary beasties, Lurkers, and intruders from other packs. It’s not for the faint of heart and you need to be able to deal with trouble when it comes your way. I know you can handle yourself; you’d be wasted on domestic.”

  I flushed a little with pleasure. I’d never been praised for my fighting ability before; it had always been a secret between me and my father. To be honest, after the last few months of being on my own, I had started to crave the adrenaline rush brought on by danger. I just might enjoy it if a little trouble came my way.

  “Sure,” I told Sharra. “Put me in the rotation.”

  “Marvi,” she said with satisfaction. “Now, how about a shower? Some breakfast?”

  “That sounds great,” I said fervently. I was sweaty and dirty from my trek through the streets yesterday and my workout this morning. And I hadn’t eaten since my sad lunch with Roomie yesterday afternoon. My stomach was cramping with hunger.

  I gathered some clean clothing and followed Sharra out of the room. I hoped Roomie would be there when I got back. Descending the wide staircase, we entered the lobby I remembered from the night before. In the daylight, it was dilapidated and worn. It looked as if the entire front wall of the two-story atrium had originally been composed of glass. Now a massive pile of rubble formed a barrier to the outside. The other three walls seemed to be intact, making this a reasonably protected shelter.

  “This is just a commons area,” Sharra explained. “Some people sleep here if they don’t like to be closed up in a room. Most people use it as a place to go if they don’t feel like being alone. There’s usually someone here at any time.”

  “How many people do you have in the pack?”

  “We’re a fairly large pack, as far as these things go. 172 at last count. That’s why we took over such a large building, even though it’s harder to secure. We never set out to have such a big group, but there are a lot of people who can’t really take care of themselves. Most packs around here are pretty rough and if you’re not a fighter or you have little kids … it can get bad for you. We’ve become known for taking care of our own, so people who need protection ask to join up with us. We rarely turn them away.”

  We turned left as we entered the women’s locker room, and I saw a half dozen shower cubicles with frosted plexi-glass doors. There were also a few deep sinks on the back wall. Sharra pointed them out, explaining,

  “Everyone is responsible for washing their own clothes. There are containers of soap powder on the shelves above the sinks. There’s a domestic rotation that takes care of bedding, towels, and other group laundry. Drop things to be laundered in those bins on the other side of the room and pick up clean stuff from the shelves next to the bins.”

  She suited action to words by walking over and pulling a couple of towels from the shelf. She handed me one, and I added it to the bundle in my arms. Sharra opened the door to one of the shower cubicles and showed me the lever installed about waist high.

  “Push up,” she instructed, “and it opens a sluice to let the water come down through the showerhead. The sluice is weighted so it will automatically slide closed again after about a minute; you’ll need to push it up again if you want more water.” She grinned wickedly and added, “You probably won’t want more. The water is COLD. Bad enough now when we’re using rainwater; just wait another month until we’re getting straight snowmelt a degree or so above freezing.”

  I shivered and started mentally calculating how fast I could wash and jump back out.

  “Best way to do it is to pop the lever once and get wet. When the water turns off, grab a handful of soap powder from the container on that shelf,” she indicated a closed container sitting on a high shelf in the corner of the cubicle, “and lather up. Then if you’re fast enough you can rinse off all the soap with one more pop of the lever.”

  She grinned cheerfully at me and stepped into the open cubicle. “Enjoy.” The door clicked closed behind her. I opened the next door and stepped inside. I was in a tiny dressing area in front of the shower itself. Closing the door behind me, I hung my towel and clean clothes on the hooks inside the door then stripped off my dirty clothing and piled it on the little bench to my right.

  Stepping forward into the shower area, I braced myself and then shoved the lever upward. I did my best to muffle my yelp of shock when the icy water poured over me, but I heard Sharra laughing at me.

  I was so stunned by the frigid streams rushing over my skin that I just stood there, shivering. After a minute, the weighted sluice gate dropped smoothly into place again, cutting off the flow of water. I hadn’t even managed to get my hair wet. Muttering imprecations under my breath, I popped the lever again. This time I steeled myself against the cold spray and hurriedly doused my hair and body before the water stopped.

  Shivering, I opened the little tub of soap powder and shook a handful of the soft granules into my palm. I’d never heard of soap powder before, but the stuff quickly worked up a nice lather, and I was able to scrub my hair and body until I felt thoroughly clean again. I popped the lever again and rinsed as fast as I could in the rush of water, grateful that my new, short hairstyle made it quick to wash the suds from my hair.

  I decided I felt clean enough and grabbed my towel from the hook. I dried off as quickly as I could, anxious to get dressed and warm up. I pulled on underwear and another set of my now-standard uniform of leather pants, dark tee, and dark leather vest.

  I slid my feet back into my boots and stepped out of the cubicle, damp towel and dirty clothes in hand. Sharra was waiting for me, and I followed her out of the locker room, still clutching my old clothes. We took a quick detour upstairs to leave the grubby clothes in our rooms for later cleaning – Sharra’s room was just a few doors down from mine. Then it was back down the stairs to find the dining hall.

&nb
sp; “We have set hours for meals,” Sharra told me as we crossed the lobby again, this time turning to the left instead of moving straight through to the gym area. On the far side of the lobby we entered a large open room. It had probably been some sort of ballroom or convention space. Now it served as a dining hall for the Liberty pack, with round tables set up around the room where people could sit to eat and a few long tables at the front used as the serving area.

  “Breakfast is available from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m.,” Sharra continued, “Lunch is 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., and dinner is 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. Get yourself here during those hours or you’re out of luck … unless,” she held up a finger to emphasize her point, “you’re out on guard patrols during meal hours. In that case you can go to the kitchens,” she pointed to a pair of swinging doors behind the serving tables, “when you get back and they’ll get you something.”

  We walked to the serving tables and helped ourselves to big bowls of oatmeal. There was no cream or brown sugar to doctor it up, but it had been so long since I’d had anything resembling a real meal that I certainly wasn’t going to complain. My stomach growled in anticipation.

  Sharra and I seated ourselves at one of the round tables. There were four people already seated at this table and they didn’t seem particularly friendly. Unlike most of the people I had seen so far, this group was not dressed in casual jeans and tees. Instead, they wore lots of leather, most of it black. Their gazes were cool and assessing as Sharra made the introductions.

  “Guys, this is Poppy. She’s the new recruit I brought back from Goodland; we finally found her again. Poppy will be in the guard rotation because she’s got mag skills. When I met her she was fighting two mechs, and took them both down, too.” Several people looked impressed at that information. “And I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about how she beat up Eddie from Wolf pack and fed him to a Shadow when he tried to hijack her. Help her out and give her the lay of the land where you can.”

  Sharra turned to me and reversed the introductions. “Poppy, these are four of my guards. You’ll probably be partnered with one of them when you go out on patrol. Gabe is the big Inuit guy on the end,” she pointed at a large man with the dusky skin and broad features that marked him as a Native Canadian, “and his brother is Len. They’re not actually twins, even though they look like they ought to be.” The men nodded at me in greeting but didn’t stop eating to speak.

  “On Len’s right is Marcii, she’s a full-on Coloradan; her family lived here when the city was destroyed, and they just never left.”

  Marcii was a heavyset brunette who looked like she could break someone in two without so much as breaking a sweat. Her intimidating appearance was just enhanced by the hair buzzed close to the scalp, piercings in both eyebrows and her bottom lip, and colorful sleeve tattoos covering both impressively muscular arms from wrist to shoulder. Despite her menacing look, the grin she shot me was easy and friendly.

  “Two mechs?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly light and feminine. “That’s damned impressive. And gossip’s been all over the streets about some slip of a kid taking down Eddie and half his pack. Nice work there; couldn’t have happened to a better guy. Nice t’meetcha.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Gossip travels fast around here. I didn’t realize the packs interacted so much.”

  “Well, not that much really,” Marcii explained, “but this was big news. We bump into guards from other packs often enough and we all like to trade a story or two. This story has been in the rotation a lot lately. Did you really feed Eddie to a Shadow?”

  “I just ran faster, is all,” I demurred. “Got lucky that the Shadow went for the guys instead of deciding to chase me.”

  “Cha,” scoffed the fourth guard at the table. He looked small in comparison to Marcii, Len, and Gabe; but closer inspection showed him to be of average height, around 5’ 8”. He was wiry instead of bulky, but he looked strong enough to hold his own in a fight. He held out a hand across the table and introduced himself as we shook hands.

  “Nathan,” he said, “of approximately nowhere. I tend to drift from place to place, wherever things look interesting. Right now, Denver is pretty interesting.” He flashed an engaging grin, dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “From what I hear, you did a leapfrog right over the top of that Shadow and dumped Eddie and company right on top of it.”

  “Something like that,” I admitted. “But really, it was all just a lot of lucky timing. I haven’t really heard much about what happened to the men. The Shadow … it killed one. But the other men recovered?”

  “One dead,” Nathan confirmed. His friendly expression hardened as he continued, “Slimy guy called Dirty Jin. He is no loss, believe me. I’ll spare you the stories of the things I know he’d done, but believe me, if he’d got hold of you he’d have killed you as sure as that Shadow.”

  The others at the table nodded solemnly.

  “Guy was a nasty piece of work,” Marcii confirmed. “From what I hear, Eddie and the two other guys managed to get free when the Shadow stopped to eat Dirty Jin. Poor dog probably got food poisoning from that meal.”

  Nathan chortled and punched Marcii in the arm in appreciation of her joke, then turned back to me. “Eddie is still laid up with some bad bites. A lot of the Shadows are venomous, you know, so he’s fighting that off. But he’ll probably be okay eventually, more’s the pity. Two other guys got mostly minor injuries and they recovered just fine.”

  I nodded and applied myself to my oatmeal for a few minutes, thinking about this strange new world in which I now found myself. I still had many more questions than answers, so I decided to take advantage of the chance to ask Sharra for a bit more information.

  “So where do you get all this?” I asked, waving my hand vaguely around the room. “The food, the clothes … where does it come from?”

  “We raise most of our own food,” Sharra said. “We have gardens and greenhouses in the safe zones. We raise animals for food and send out hunting parties for wild game. There’s plenty of that in and around the city. For things that we can’t easily raise ourselves, we have contacts who help us trade or buy what we need.

  “Money, goods, clothing and that sort of thing we mostly get by scavenging. There are still a lot of buildings and homes in the city that have not been explored. We send teams in to look around and see what’s useful and bring it back to our storage area in the basement. And again we can trade for things that we can’t find by scavenging.”

  “And no one cares? I mean, doesn’t someone own those buildings and the things in them?” I asked.

  “Honey, no one is left who has a claim to any of it. They were either killed in the bombings or evacuated afterward. They’re long gone and we’re here and we need it.” Nathan spoke bluntly but not unkindly, and I nodded thoughtfully in understanding. In my old world this would have seemed strange to me; but hadn’t I been doing the same thing on a smaller scale? The old rules just didn’t apply here. I fell silent again as we finished our meal, and Sharra and the others turned to casual conversation, letting me stay quiet as I tried to adjust to my new life and pack.

  Sharra ate quickly and left me at the table to let me finish my breakfast at a more leisurely pace after letting me know that I would have a few days to get used to my new home before beginning my guard duties. I was listening to the others trade stories about their recent patrol when I felt an itch between my shoulder blades like I was being watched. I casually turned my head to look around and saw Mateo sitting at a table on the other side of the room, glaring daggers at me.

  Marcii had noticed his malevolent stare, as well. Speaking quietly enough to not be heard by the men, who were involved in a lively discussion about the best way to escape a hunting Shadow, she asked, ”So do you know Mateo, or did he just take a dislike to you from a distance?”

  “We’re acquainted,” I told her. “We’re not very fond of each other.”

  She nodded, still looking across the room at Mateo. “I don’t have any firsthan
d knowledge, understand, but I hear rumors that he can get a bit nasty when he thinks no one is watching.”

  Still not willing to risk badmouthing an established pack member, I just thanked her for the warning. We both turned back to our breakfasts and ignored Mateo until he left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I spent the next few days exploring the home base and the local neighborhood. I learned the routines for mealtimes, laundry, and showering, and started to make some friends among the pack members. Roomie was a big help when it came to getting to know everyone. He had indeed returned to my room after taking off for some explorations of his own and he now left the building to roam the streets around base for a while each day. But he still preferred to ride around in my backpack as often as possible. If I left my room without him on my back he would follow me, yowling until I put on my pack and made room for him. People were so astonished to see one of the famously fierce street cats acting this way that they would come up and talk to me and learn more, which let me meet a lot of the pack members.

  After all my time alone, I found that I was actually enjoying being around people again. It was freeing to be able to just be myself and not worry about being Perfect Poppy the First Lady all the time. Still, I was used to being busy all the time. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself now that I didn’t have to spend all of my time managing political events or struggling for survival. I was aimlessly wandering the halls of the base looking for something interesting to explore when rough hands suddenly yanked me to the side and into an empty room. My arms were pinned to my sides making it harder to strike back. Mateo shoved me against the wall before letting me go and stepping back out of my reach.

  “Hello to you, too, Matty,” I muttered.

  “What did you tell them?” he demanded. “Lucas and Sharra both came around asking me how I knew you and why I didn’t tell them where you were. They’re both watching me like hawks, now.”