Ronan (Mate’s Mark #1)

Chapter 2

Cameron

Four days prior

Ducked behind the largest oak I could find in this grove, I silently curse the oppressive heat as sweat trickles down my face. In the years after the veil fell, temperatures rose until half the forests died, cooked alive where they stood. Barren, cracked earth took their place, and there’s never enough rain to quench its thirst.

In layman’s terms, it’s hot as fuck, with little chance of rain.

My vision blurs as my glasses slip, and I shove them back into place for what must be the thousandth time today. I can’t afford for them to fall off. This is the third pair I’ve gone through in less than six months, and I don’t have any more spares.

Monsters invade the world, and suddenly, vision correction falls away from modern society. What was routine healthcare a century ago is now a pipe dream.

Heathens .

Next thing you know, it’ll be toothbrushes and books that disappear, and if that happens, I’ll just lie down and let the darkness take me. Surrender to the void.

No thank you, filthy apocalypse. It’s been fun, but there’s only so much a man can take.

Fur brushes against my leg, and I instinctively place my hand between Boomerang’s ears. Her coloring tells me she’s at least part German Shepherd, with a blend of black on her head and back, and a deeper golden brown on her legs and paws. One day she trotted out of the woods, a limp rabbit hanging out of her smiling mouth, and never left my side. For months, she’s been my traveling companion, and earned her name because no matter what I do, she’s there. If she leaves, she comes right back.

After a few days of watching her jet back and forth, it hit me. Boomerang.

In my mind she has an Australian accent, but I’ve never been there… or met anyone from there… so, yeah. I’m winging it.

She could actually be Irish, with one of those unpronounceable names that sound nothing like they’re spelled, but it would be awkward to ask this late in our relationship, you know?

I’d become so accustomed to being on my own that her presence initially felt intrusive, and it took weeks for me to warm up to her company.

I was afraid of her.

Afraid her inevitable noise would put me in danger. That she’d get me into trouble, eat all my food, or worse... that I’d get attached. I was terrified I’d love her only to have her leave me, too. No one else has ever stayed, so why would I risk it with her ?

Eventually, though, she won me over.

My inevitable partner.

She is surprisingly quiet—light on her feet and smart enough to move silently, even in the dense forest. I imagine it’s how she survived on her own in this wasteland. She doesn’t bark, instead wheezes in a pitiful rasp that makes me wonder what injuries she suffered… and at whose hands.

The world is fucked, but it’s all I know.

Those who remain on this toxic dump of a planet are divided into two factions. Most of the control is wielded by the monsters, aided by the humans who have sided with them. After they invaded, humanity did what it does best—sought out the most likely victor and grabbed on to their skirts like a begging child. The military and monsters formed their own regime, seizing power and silencing dissent.

But as history tells us, every new power breeds rebellion.

Rebel camps materialized almost overnight in the less populated parts of the world, far outside the cities the monsters had claimed as their own. Furious and defiant, they made it their mission to disrupt the new authority and take back the power we’d lost.

Except, as nice as resistance sounds, their only accomplishment is adding more to the body count. For every lucky shot in the dark they manage, they’re hit back with grenades and bombs.

Wiped away like nothing more than a pest.

Three generations ago, when my grandparents were mere children, the veil fell one lazy summer afternoon. No warning, just chaos. Monsters spilled into our world, shaping the only reality I’ve ever known.

Stories whisper of a time when large, clean towns bustled with people who had everything they needed close at hand. They worked defined jobs and were paid in paper money, then came home to their families. They relaxed in air-conditioned houses and slept peacefully in comfortable beds without a knife tucked under their pillow. Food wasn’t grown, but purchased from giant stores, and no one was trained in combat unless it was for sport.

Fantastical dreams if I ever heard them. The ridiculous wishes of children that go to bed with their stomachs still rumbling. That sort of existence is nothing more than a young man’s fantasy—the prayers of those thrust into battle before they even know how to wield a sword.

Absurdity.

It’s a different world now, and I don’t dwell on the imagined possibilities of a make-believe life I never lived.

In the wake of the world’s destruction, a third faction quietly separated themselves from the chaos. Tiny communities of humans tucked into the isolated corners of the world, where they could find refuge from the monstrous urban centers. Outside their borders and away from their tyranny, villages developed and thrived.

My entire world had been the cluster of houses I’d grown up in with my mom, hidden in a sanctuary in the middle of the forest. We survived off the land, away from the rules of this jacked up society.

It was a peaceful existence until it fell apart just after my twentieth birthday, and now my allegiance doesn’t belong to any city or camp. I’m neither a supporter nor a rebel.

I am a wanderer.

An outlier.

“Hello?” Far too close, a man’s voice rings through the silence and startles me back into the present. My arms wrap around Boomerang and pull her nearer as I crouch closer to the ground, using the bushes as a shield. “Is someone there?”

Six years of being on my own have honed my skill to move without a sound, and thankfully, Boomerang is quiet and still beside me as I hold my breath and wait. The dark of night offers us cover, but it hinders my ability to track the man.

Deprived of my sight, I force my other senses to take over, and eventually, he takes a few steps. Grass crunches under his feet as he moves just beyond the trees. Rain has been scarce this season, which has made roughing it… well, rough. But right now, the crispy blades underneath his shoes are a blessing, allowing me to follow his movements.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me… I won’t hurt you,” he calls, and I almost laugh at the notion.

It’s a lie of the highest order.

Everyone hurts everyone in this world.

After a few more moments of tense quiet, his footsteps recede, leaving behind a welcome silence before he speaks once more. “If you need shelter or supplies, come to the gates and ask for August. I know it’s hard to trust anyone, but I’ve been where you are. These aren’t bad people; they’re just surviving like everyone else. ”

Eventually, his patience reaches its limit, and he walks away, leaving Boomerang and me alone in the quiet grove. More than an hour passes as we wait, the only sound the sighing of the breeze through the leaves. “Change of plans, girl,” I whisper, and she tilts her head at me in question.

I was just passing through with no actual destination in mind when I discovered the community on the horizon. My intention had been to camp in these trees for a few days and observe, see if there might be a trade opportunity before going on my way.

But now that they’re alerted to my presence?

It’s time to move on.

The rebel camp becomes smaller in the distance as we weave through another patch of trees, dragging a branch to erase the footprints left in the dry, dusty soil. Sunrise is only a few hours away, and I’d prefer to get more distance between myself and civilization. A dense forest lies ahead, and if we hurry, we should be able to make it to cover long before the first lights of day peek out from beyond the horizon.

We rest for a few minutes, and I take a swig of water before pouring some in the small bowl I carry for Boomerang. She laps it up before pawing at my leg in thanks, and I grin down at her. “Ready, girl?” I whisper, and she studies me like she does whenever I speak. Being alone out here means I rarely bother, so my voice often comes out hoarse and broken from the lack of use.

After a few more minutes of rest, we set a brisk pace through the open stretch of land. The better part of the past twenty-four hours has been spent on the move, and I ignore my legs as my muscles scream at me to stop punishing them.

Safety first, rest second. My survival hinges on this rule, and it has kept me safe all these years.

The forest’s edge gets closer, and I can already imagine curling up on some moss, covered by the camouflage blanket that’s been my savior in the wild. Preoccupied with daydreams of sleep, I take longer than I should to register the hum of an engine as it whirs closer. Headlights rake across me and Boomerang, making a giant, exaggerated shadow of our silhouettes dance over the tree trunks ahead.

Two vehicles are gaining on us by the second, and I only spare a moment’s glance over my shoulder as panic plunges adrenaline through my veins. “Fuck, run!” I scream, racing towards the woods. Dust and rocks scatter in a cloud around us as my feet pound into the desolate soil, and I command every ounce of energy in my body to move faster.

Deep inside, I know it’s in vain.

Each footfall feels pointless, and the half mile to safety might as well be a hundred against the advantage of their vehicles. Even if we made it to the woods, they would come after us on foot. We’d have a chance, sure, but I’m a realist.

And realistically? I’m fucked.

“Boomerang, go! Go !” Her speed and stamina will allow her to escape, and I can distract them long enough for her to get away. She charges ahead in a blur of motion, just as a sudden cramp buckles my knees, and I stumble. A potent surge of relief hits me in the chest as I watch her fly off into the distance.

Tires spit gravel into the air as a dirt bike screams past, forcing me into a jarring, uncontrolled skid as I dig my feet into the soil. A black bandana obscures the face of the rider, and their slim build is hidden by a thick leather jacket. Silent and anonymous, they rev the motor, injecting the air with a potent punch of gasoline as they stare, daring me to make the wrong move.

“I’m not looking for trouble.” I speak loud enough to be heard over the rumbling engine, gesturing towards the woods. A few locks of brown hair fall over my forehead, sweat plastering them to my skin. The edges of my glasses fog up with the heat rolling off my body. “I’m just passing through, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Do you think we’re stupid, boy?” A deep, gruff voice calls from behind me, and I turn to find a tank of a man approaching from the dusty Jeep. The glare of the headlights illuminates his massive frame—tall, broad-shouldered, and arms that are bigger than my thighs. Untamed energy practically bristles from him, a wild beard and head full of unruly dark hair fluttering in warning. Hidden by darkness, his face is only a shadow, but I know all too well the anger and emptiness I’ll find there.

In this world, they’re all the same.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” I repeat slowly, my hands visible, palms open, while gesturing in the direction I was headed. “Just a traveler, passing through.”

“You’ve seen our camp, and we can’t have you blabbing about our location, now, can we?”

The giant fence surrounding their camp isn’t what I’d call inconspicuous. Smack dab in the middle of a clearing, there are dozens of tents and a few permanent structures peeking above the wooden slats. It’s easily spotted by anyone within a ten-mile radius, but I don’t bother telling him that.

Sarcasm is not the key to making friends out here, believe it or not, and he seems too dense to understand it, anyway.

“There’s no one for me to tell,” I say, and damn if it isn’t the truth. “It’s just me.”

“We can’t be too careful, y’understand?” His meaty hand lands on my shoulder and jostles my whole body, and I groan internally as I consider my escape. A knee to the crotch might work if his fucking thighs weren’t big enough to crush my head like a walnut.

A sudden rasping snarl takes us both by surprise. Boomerang flies between us, teeth bared as she latches onto his forearm. The man tumbles backward with a bellow, hitting the ground with a thud and a cloud of dust.

“No, no, girl, run! Get out of here!” I scream, panic making my voice rise. The familiar click of a gun makes me freeze as that panic turns into full-blown terror. Firearms are luxuries rarely found out here in the wilds, which tells me his camp is well-stocked. When I risk a glance at him, the pistol is not pointed at me, but digging into the side of Boomerang’s head. Her fangs dig trenches into his skin, deep pits that are pooling with crimson.

The first rays of sunshine filter over the horizon in time to gleam off the teeth of his evil smile. “Please, no,” I beg as she slings her head, cutting him deeper.

“You’d rather me shoot you, then?” The barrel shifts to me, and even at a distance, I can almost feel the cold metal pressing against my forehead as he aims it square between my eyes.

Hands shaking, I swallow twice to clear the lump from my throat. “Boomerang, let go,” I plead, and her intelligent brown eyes meet mine for a moment before her jaw slacks, allowing the man to rip his arm from her mouth. Hyper-aware of the gun pointed at my brain, I keep my hands up, palms facing him. “This is a huge misunderstanding. We’re leaving, and we won’t return.”

“That’s what they all say.” His gaze flickers to his bleeding arm, then to Boomerang, who’s edged closer to my feet. “Should shoot the mutt for making me bleed.”

“She was just protecting me.”

“Yeah?” His hand swipes over his mouth, leaving a glistening crimson smear on his lips that makes me cringe. “You need more than a dog for protection out here, boy.”

My knife collection beckons me from inside my pack, but even if I could get to it in time, it wouldn’t stand up to his gun. I skip through denial and anger, moving straight to bargaining. “Please, take my stuff… it’s yours. Consider it payment for the injury and let us continue on our way. You’ll never see us again.”

Starting over on supplies won’t be fun, but it’s doable. It won’t be the first time I’ve rebuilt from nothing out here in these wastelands, and it probably won’t be the last, either.

“Oh, he’s a funny guy.” A feminine voice speaks up from behind me, and the soft, delicate timbre doesn’t lessen the contempt in her sneering chuckle. Out here, rule number one is watch your back, and I allowed myself to be distracted by the dramatics in front of me. Allowed myself to forget his companion was stalking me like a panther in the night, with claws just as deadly. “He thinks we need permission to take his stuff when he’s the one trespassing on our lands.”

“Just—” I twist towards the voice as something heavy whistles through the air. A blow that was intended for the back of my head makes a cartoonishly loud bong as it crashes into my forehead, and Boomerang’s startled rasping bark is the last thing I hear before everything turns dark.