WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos)
Page 25
Jay dipped a bowl of stew for Bela to test while they waited for the stragglers to arrive. She declared it edible. Donald served everyone and they settled around the fire. Flower served up Laylea’s kibble.
“I have here,” Clark held up a bulging manila envelope, “letters for everyone from Judah God. He wrote me too and says he’s enjoying things in Denver. He aced his GED and is working as a farmhand to earn money for college. I brought paper and pens in case anyone wants to send a response right away. Flower,” he handed a folded piece of notebook paper to her, “he asks that I make sure you write him back. Now, Maggie Monster.”
Flower’s face glowed red. Clark started handing out letters on the far side of the fire from her so she didn’t have to suffer too much attention. She bent to give Laylea her food and forgot about her own. Laylea tried to read over her shoulder but Flower sat back against a log. All she saw was a heart on the signature line.
The chilly evening settled into reading hour. Some of the letters were long. Others got only half a page. But since most of these people never got any mail, they devoured the little letters with more relish than Bela’s stew. Flower read hers through and left for the tent. Laylea stepped over and cleaned out Flower’s bowl while everyone was otherwise occupied. She had just returned to her own small meal when Mickey squealed. The girl ran over to sit on the ground beside her.
She read, “Tell Clark there is a horse on the farm with a white diamond over one eye just like LG. She is a sweet, smart mare and doesn’t mind that I have nicknamed her Little Girl. Oh my god, I’m talking to a dog.” Mickey scratched Laylea’s ear and bent to kiss her forehead diamond. She bounded over to Clark’s side to read the passage to him.
Laylea saw Judah's dad, Ahab watching Mickey. Her action started everyone talking around the fire. They compared letters and talked about the strangeness of the outside world. Ahab kept quiet. His wife wrapped an arm around their second son, holding him as close as he would let her while she studied her eldest’s words.
Laylea lay at Ahab’s feet. She put a paw on his booted foot to let him know she was there. Ahab wasn’t one of the CF. Laylea didn’t know why he and his wife and boys lived out in the mountains but she knew that Judah leaving had terrified him.
Ahab folded the letter and put it inside his jacket. He leaned over to scratch Laylea’s neck with one hand while the other retrieved his stew.
Laylea looked away. She heard something. There had been a noise that didn’t belong coming from outside of the circle. Not so far outside as Hardknock was. She could smell her old nemesis off in the western forest. Hardknock attended every powwow this way. He’d almost been caught a few times and once Laylea had been the one to distract Feranda before she tripped right over him. Laylea had no hard feelings. Hardknock was the first post-Sher CF. He hadn’t lost his mind. It had been taken from him. The same thing might have happened to her if her mama hadn’t found the Hillens.
Her ears twitched. A click closer than Hardknock’s lean-to and farther south. It sounded like it was out toward Ahab and Caroline’s shelter. She ignored the voices growing louder around her. Maggie began strumming her guitar. Laylea angled her ears to focus on the distance. When Ahab offered her a chunk of meat, she turned her head away to keep the smell from distracting her.
Smell. Laylea remembered she was a dog. She paced over to the periphery of the circle, her hackles up though she didn’t yet know why. She caught a whiff of unfamiliar sweat. Again she heard the click. This time she saw the snap of the lens from the flap of Ahab and Caroline’s teepee.
She growled. Her instinct was to chase him away and she jumped to do so. But the more-than-dog part of her saw that he was stealing from them as well as taking pictures. So she barked to Clark for help before she put on the speed.
“Jay!” Clark ran right behind her, calling over his shoulder, “Everybody circle up and stay here!”
She had tiny legs, but she was, as Clark kept reminding her on these visits, a dog. She could run. And she could follow his smell so she didn’t need to be able to see the intruder. He was running fast and gaining. She tried to snap branches and brush leaves so Clark could track her but it slowed her down. So she detoured through a bush with cottony blooms. The flowers dripped off of her as she ran.
When the thief took a hard-to-follow turn, she stopped barking. Maybe the thief would think she’d lost him. He slowed down. She did not. She was just getting her wind. Feet flying, even dashing through bushes to leave a trail, Laylea gained on him. She reviewed in her mind what the mom and dad were always telling Bailey, We’re here to help you. And what they were always asking her, What are you going to do with that cat if you catch her?
She was a very small dog. She couldn’t do anything with the thief. Clark and Jay probably could. But they had to catch up to him first. She barked to scare the thief, let him know that she was right behind him. Scared people did stupid things. Clark’s horror novels taught her that.
When the trail ended, she ran right past the spot where the thief’s scent stopped. She ran on past the clearing and then bayed her disappointment at losing him. She ran back past the tree again to pick up the scent where she’d last had it. She scratched in the dirt. She howled. She ran around the wrong tree and darted off in different directions, nose to the ground.
When Jay and Clark caught up to her she continued baying and sniffing the ground in all directions. It was apparent that she had lost the scent. Jay went to her. Laylea planted her butt. She threw her head back and howled a howl Woodford would approve of. She caught Clark’s eye and as soon as Jay stepped away to examine the ground for traces of a trail, Laylea stood. She’d scratched the word Up in the dirt. Clark crunched through the leaves, scattering them over the area. He knelt down by her.
“It’s okay girl. You tried. Good job. Good girl.” He tugged on her collar like he was dragging her away. “Let’s go back to camp. Come on.”
Clark stood and headed back the way they’d come. Laylea followed. As soon as they were out of sight of the clearing, Clark turned and looked up into the trees. He saw a figure tucked into the bare branches. Dark skin blended into the trunk.
“Huh,” He grunted quietly. “That’s familiar.”
Laylea tilted her head at him. He crouched down beside her. “The way he’s up there, that’s something the Consortium taught me, I think.” He scratched the scruff of her neck as he considered. “Can you draw his attention away?”
Laylea barked belligerently and turned to run off after Jay. Clark looked up. The thief watched Laylea. Clark loaded a slingshot and snapped a rock straight at the guy’s stabilizing hand.
“Look up here look up here look up here,” he called to Jay.
His second shot hit the perp’s forehead just above one eye. His nervous system shut his eyes when the missile approached and that compromised his balance just enough. The thief fell.
“Look out!” Jay screamed from the other side of the clearing.
The world slowed before Clark’s eyes. He looked down from the falling body to see Laylea looking back at Jay running towards the tree. Hardknock appeared from nowhere. He dove at Laylea just as the thief broke through the last branch. The crazy hermit swatted Laylea with his green book and she went flying. She hit the trunk with a crunch that went unheard under the sound of the stranger crashing down on Hardknock’s back. Jay leaped onto the bodies but Hardknock was already crawling away. Jay got a handful of the hermit’s rough spun poncho. The stranger got an elbow up into Jay’s nuts and Hardknock slipped away.
Clark had his bracelet half unwoven before he reached the pair on the ground. He looped the orange paracord over the thief’s neck and connected it to the elbow trapped between Jay’s shaking thighs.
“I’ve got him,” Jay coughed. He grabbed the unraveling bracelet from Clark. “I’ve got him.”
Clark stood to chase after Hardknock.
“LG, Clark.” Jay kicked him to get his attention. “Little Girl isn’t moving!”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Clark leapt over the struggle. He fought his sketchy memory to recall every bit of first aid Sher had ever taught him. He felt for blood under her head before he lifted her with an arm splinting either side of her body.
“Come on, wake up.” He realized Jay was two feet behind him and added, “Who’s my good girl?” without much heart.
He kept her head straight, feeling for any injury to her spine. It was okay. He was relieved for an instant before he realized he didn’t feel any movement at all. His little girl wasn’t breathing. Her heart had stopped beating.
Clark hummed. He controlled his panic. As gently as he could, he squeezed her rib cage twice with his forearms. He tilted her head back and covered her muzzle with his mouth. He breathed for her. Two compressions and a breath. Two compressions and a breath.
His mind couldn’t remember his mother. His mind couldn’t remember Bailey’s birth. His mind couldn’t remember the garage door code. But he remembered that CPR hardly ever worked. The odds flashed through his brain even as he breathed for Laylea. Two compressions and a breath.
“Stop.” Jay knelt in front him.
Somehow Clark had fallen to his knees. Two compressions. He leaned over her to breathe.
“Captain, stop.” Jay held him upright. “She’s breathing.”
Clark’s entire body shook. He sucked in shuddering breaths through his nose. Their captive couldn’t see him, a grown man, crying over a dog. Jay unknotted the paisley bandanna around Clark’s neck. He soaked it with water from his canteen and washed away the dirt and blood caked on Laylea’s face.
“It’s a scrape.”
Clark tried to sound strong, “Only a flesh wound.”
“Head wounds bleed. She’ll be okay. Let’s let her rest here while we deal with our photographer friend.” Jay shrugged out of the deep green hoodie he wore underneath his coat and laid it on the ground. “Here. Captain? Put her down here.”
Clark nodded. He didn’t want to let her go. But he folded the warm fabric over Laylea and bunched the hood up to cushion her head.
“Okay?” Jay’s eyes were still soft when he made his voice harsh. “Shall we go get some info from this little shit?”
“Absolutely.” Clark’s voice was stronger on his second try. “I don’t like people who mess with my business.”
The two men, with no discussion, settled each on one side of the man lying face down in the dirt. His head was held just off the ground by the pull of his neck tied to his arms tied to his legs and covered with Jay’s jacket. He unwound his jacket from the man’s shaved head and crouched with his shin pressing against the side of the man’s face. Clark crouched on the other side, his shin pushing the man’s face into Jay’s leg.
Jay sliced the thief’s camera from his neck and smashed it against a rock.
Who are you and why are you taking pictures of us? was the question Clark wanted to ask but that gave away more information than he gained. So instead he played his part, “What are you doing, jackass? I deliver this shit for money. If you want it, I’ll deliver it to you for barter, cash, or information.”
As Clark began negotiations, his eyes stealing over to Laylea's gently breathing body, Jay searched the thief’s pockets and clothing. Throughout, the two kept up a banter over the guy’s back.
Clark pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on the guy’s belt and handed it to Jay. “Did you know, the mark of a good martial artist is that they can subdue their enemy without killing them?”
“We are good.”
“A great martial artist can subdue their enemy without hurting them.”
“We are not so great.” Jay pulled the guy’s jacket off his shoulders and ripped open the lining. He found a couple more blades which he added to the growing pile at his side. He also found some memory chips and held them up to show Clark. Jay kept talking while they considered. “A master martial artist has no enemies to subdue.”
“Because he sent all the novices out to fight them.”
Clark pulled down the back collar of the kid’s undershirt. His leathery tan stopped just below the collar. They both saw the scar between his pale shoulder blades.
“Think you can question this guy without damaging him?” Jay asked.
“I’ve got better skills in this area than you.” Clark came to a decision. Despite the information it could provide, he did not want to invade the privacy of the CF or any other woodsfolk. He crossed his neck with a finger.
Jay dropped the chips at his side where the thief could see them. “This is information gathering, not martial arts. In my opinion, the more damage the better. And I’ve got sharper skills than you there.” He pulled his own knife from its sheath and held it up for Clark to examine.
Clark made a show of leaning over the body to take the knife. “Yes, that is sharp.”
A fierce growl grabbed all three men’s attention. Laylea stood, teeth bared, inches from the stranger’s face. When he whimpered, she scooped the memory chips up in her mouth and limped back to Jay’s hoodie.
Clark found he couldn’t breathe. Jay laughed at the relief in his eyes.
He said, “There you go girl. Chew them up.”
“Don’t swallow them.” Clark switched to a more appropriate foolish dog owner tone and added, “You chew em up. That’s my girl. Go on, chew em all up.”
Laylea spit the chips out uneaten, unchewed. She licked at her sore hip, scratched at the fabric to make it more comfortable, and collapsed facing the interrogation.
Clark handed Jay’s knife back, “Tell you what. We don’t know who this guy is yet. I’ll take the first round. You can have the second.”
“Deal.”
Jay pulled a couple of ID cards from the guy’s back pants pocket and handed them to Clark. Clark glanced at them. Ahab and Caroline’s pictures over different names. He pocketed the IDs. As he did, Jay took his very sharp knife and sliced the man’s pants from waistband to hip.
Clark protested. “We agreed I get the first go.”
“My bad.” Jay sliced the man’s jacket. Then he flipped the man over and put him in a headlock, propped up on his knees, facing Clark but not allowed to look directly at him.
Laylea saw that he was just a kid. Maybe a little older than Bailey, a boy Mickey might like to meet. He smelled familiar.
Clark smiled. His voice when he spoke was not his voice. It was warm. It was calm. Well meaning. And terrifying.
“Hi. What’s your name?”
The kid didn’t respond. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. As they continued to undress him and examine his skin, cutting away clothes where the ropes were in the way, the kid actually began to hum softly. He didn’t hum a recognizable song. Just random notes. Neither Clark nor Jay pushed him once the humming started. They focused on searching him for any other implants.
While Jay was slicing through the kid’s underwear, Clark motioned privately for Laylea to turn around. She shared a room with Bailey and until four years ago Clark had never had any problem changing in front of her. But she shut her eyes.
They thoroughly searched the kid without finding any other transmitters. When they were sure, they stopped their threatening banter, stopped pretending they were other men. Jay took the young CF’s face in his hands, looked him in the eyes and said, “You should sleep now.”
The kid stopped humming. He took a breath, let it out, took another and his eyes focused on Jay’s. “No.”
Jay smiled gently. He lowered his head to the kid’s ear, bringing his forearms in and pushing the points of his elbows into the kid’s chest. He whispered, “I’ve given you the serum. You can’t resist the serum. You know you must obey when you’ve had the serum.”
The kid blinked. His lids drooped but he di
dn’t sleep.
Jay insisted, “You must sleep now.”
“No.” The kid breathed the word almost as a question.
A third time. Clark held his breath as Jay spoke in the low tone. “You will sleep now. Serum.”
His lids drooped. He blinked.
“Serum,” Jay crooned.
The eyes closed and the kid sighed away into sleep.
They untied the rope and dressed him as best they could.
“Is it always that hard?” Clark asked stuffing the orange cord into a pocket.
“Has been lately.” Jay pulled out his sewing kit. “I can’t reach the new CF.”
“So you send them back?” Clark took a needle from him with bobbin of blue thread.
Jay rubbed at his face. He hummed a few bars of I Will Not Kill. “You don’t live out here. You can’t understand.” He threaded his needle. “I can’t stop them. I don’t have Sher’s training in any of this. She gave me a one year crash course in conditioning.”
“You’re not conditioning.” Clark repaired the rip in the kid’s boxers with a rough stitch. “It should be easier to return them to who they were.”
“Oh?” Jay “How do you like being who you were?”
“We’re different.” Clark pulled up the kid’s pants. He basted the waistband back together. “These new ones aren’t erased as well as us.”
“And for a while that made it easier to help them break free. But they’re being trained to resist me. And they’re getting more messed up. I got through to this girl, could have been recruited out of ROTC.” Jay ripped the thread with his teeth. “She actually remembered her name right before she leapt off the cliff face.” Jay sang quietly.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”
“I don’t tell you about any of the CF who kill themselves.” He heaved the kid over his shoulder and stormed into the forest.
Clark scrambled to gather Laylea, the hoodie, and the memory chips. “How many?” He tripped after his friend. “How many?”
Jay picked up speed. Clark slipped the chips into his pocket and held his little girl to his chest with both arms. He put on his own speed.