Chapter 18
ROGUE NATION
In the morning, Omar is awake before me. I head out into the blinding light to find him at the back door of the house chatting with the woman from last night. She glances my way and I nod to say good morning.
“Hungry, pack wolf?” she calls out in a stern but not unfriendly tone, like I imagine she talks to everyone.
My stomach growls in response.
“Take a seat,” she says, gesturing to one of the picnic tables. “Bert’ll be out in just a second.”
She and Omar finish talking at a volume more respectable for this time of the morning, which means I can’t hear them. Then with two incredibly firm pats on his shoulder she turns and heads inside.
Omar joins me at the table.
“What was that all about?” I ask, a hint of paranoia creeping into my brain. It’s not gone unnoticed that while Omar is completely at home in these surroundings, I stick out like a privileged sore thumb. But I know I can trust Omar, and I know he’ll vouch for me with the rogues.
“I explained what we were out here to do,” he says.
“And?”
“And she’s skeptical that anyone will want to go into battle for a pack, let alone one with as much wealth and power as the Elite Pack. But I explained how bad it was out there for rogues and so she’s given me the locations of a few other settlements.”
“Shouldn’t we head toward the Sanc first? It’s the farthest away and the biggest stronghold of rogue power?”
“Pretty much every settlement is between here and there, we might as well see how many rogues we can convince to join us along the way.”
“Right.”
The back door swings open, creaking on its weathered hinges, and a portly man whose belly is pressing against the front flap of his overalls exits butt first, carrying two plates of food.
“Your country breakfast is ready,” he says with a southern twang.
“Thanks, Bert,” Omar says as the farmer places two steaming plates of hash, sausage, bacon, waffles, and grits in front of us. They smell so good I can barely stop drool from slipping out the corner of my mouth. “How is Malachi this morning?”
“He’s doing a lot better,” Bert says. “Needs more rest but he’ll be right as rain after a week or so with us and he can stay as long as he likes.
” Omar nods and Bert hands us both cutlery from his pockets.
“Eat up boys. You’ll need all your strength if you’re planning on doing what Missy says you are. ”
“Thanks,” I say, not really thinking because I can’t hold myself back any longer. I dive into the plate of food, shoving it into my mouth and relishing in the savory warmth.
By my side, Omar has yet to start.
“You think anyone will join us?” he asks Bert.
Bert rubs his belly and thinks for a moment. “The way I see it, what’s happening to the rogues is because of the packs and all their nonsense. And you’ve got about a snowball’s chance in hell of convincing any self-respecting rogue to help fix a pack wolf’s mess.”
I stop chewing, my mouth full to bursting. Bert just said we have an almost zero percent chance of getting the rogues on our side.
He sees the panicked look on my face as I stare up at him, cheeks bulging.
“But I’ve been wrong before. Anyway,” he says, rubbing his thinning blond-gray hair, “I wish you the best of luck. If I were younger maybe I would’ve joined you.”
He wobbles back to the house and through the door.
Omar and I share an uncertain look, and I try to swallow the glob of food in my mouth.
It hurts going down.
For the next week or so Omar and I drive across the country, stopping at rogue settlements big and small.
From Missy and Bert’s settlement on the border of Pennsylvania and Ohio, we head west through Indiana, then south through Kentucky, and west again through Tennessee, Arkansas, and Oklahoma.
We spend long hours in the car, shooting the shit, playing car games like I Spy or counting license plates, or simply sitting in silence.
The country stretches for what feels like eternity on all sides, the landscape shifting from tall, rocky mountains, and green, rolling hills, to arid plains, and flat grasslands.
I’ve never seen this much of the United States before. Sure I’ve been farther from home, but I’ve never spent this much time surrounded by nature, the changing vistas. Even the air feels different as we drive across state borders.
Every day or so we find a new settlement.
Outside Bloomington, Indiana, we meet a cohort of young rogues who have set up a commune in the rectangular basin of a disused limestone quarry.
Artists, they’ve decorated the stone walls with murals.
Their tents are covered in crafted tapestries and painted fabrics.
At night they sit around a fire singing and telling stories.
Between Hopkinsville and Pembroke we meet a group of all-female rogues who live in three cottages on a large plot of land, who left their pack together, fed up with how the male alpha and their mates refused to show them the respect they deserve.
They work together, chopping firewood, gardening to grow their own food, and fixing up the derelict barn on their land in the hopes of building a refuge for other rogue women.
From there we stop at another three settlements, one situated much like Rogue City in an abandoned waterworks, and the other two not so dissimilar from Missy and Bert’s farm.
Along the road we also encounter rogues not living in settlements, but instead staying on their own in caravans, or cottages, mostly on large properties or the outskirts of towns, keeping to themselves and staying out of the way.
In just over a week I meet so many new wolves, each of them going about their lives in different ways, with different but very real struggles, but also so much hope, I can hardly take it all in.
If only the wolves at home could see how these rogues are out here living beyond the confines of the pack system, beyond what human society deems normal. They’re doing their own thing and they’re thriving.
But we also encounter the reach of Walter and the Axis Pack and the devastation they’re causing to all of wolfkind.
At one settlement all the wolves of fighting age have been taken, forced to serve under Walter’s leadership, coerced with the threat that something untoward will happen to their families if they don’t.
We see true poverty, wolves who live with nothing.
We meet wolves who live off the land in a way I never could.
We meet wolves who’ve fled their packs instead of succumbing to Walter’s influence, who took nothing with them and are now adrift.
We see the way the packs have sucked up resources and kept the rogues in the surrounding territories suppressed, ostracized.
“But the thing that has stuck with me the most,” I tell Jasper late one night, somewhere outside of Dallas, “is how no matter what terrible thing they’ve faced, the rogues are still determined to live these big fulfilling lives. Their spirit is just—irrepressible.”
I poke at our campfire with a stick and glance back to the car, where Omar is snoozing in the passenger seat. He’s been great about giving me privacy when I need to speak with Jasper.
“That’s great,” Jasper says. “It sounds like you’re learning a lot and meeting lots of new people.”
“It’s incredible,” I say, plowing on and unable to contain my passion for these wolves.
“It just shows there are so many more ways to live and even though some of these people have nothing, they’re just doing it, you know, it doesn’t matter to them.
They make do and—Oh did I mention we met an all-women cohort, and one of the wolves there showed me how to use an old-school loom to, like, make clothes and fabrics and stuff? ”
“That’s cool.”
“I wish you could see it. This nation of rogues. It’s diverse and there’s struggle but there’s also grit and perseverance.
And I feel, I don’t know, I guess inspired.
By them but also by how much good I could do, you know, as the blood wolf, to connect the rogues that are struggling with the more established settlements, or to help connect wolves with the right settlements for their needs.
Or maybe we could even figure out how to share resources between settlements, how to get them to the rogues who are out there on their own, or—”
“These all sound like amazing ideas,” Jasper says, and I can hear the sadness in his voice. I’ve been so busy blathering on about helping the rogues and feeling inspired by them, I’ve almost forgotten we came out here with a mission.
I wait with a brick in my stomach for the inevitable question.
“So . . . how many have said they’ll help us?” Jasper asks with genuine hope in his voice.
Sparks rise from the fire where I poke at it, flipping a log deeper into the flames and revealing the glowing orange belly underneath.
“Jasp . . .”
The fire crackles.
“It’s not that simple. The rogues—even the ones who live in big communities—they don’t . . . they aren’t equipped for . . . I’m not sure . . .”
“No one has said they’ll help us,” he states plainly.
Smoke rises. The night sky is clear, the darkness made all the more deep and impenetrable. The shadows of nearby rocks and bushes stretch long across the rocky ground.
“We’ve been trying,” I say. Silence stretches longer than the shadows. “Have there been any more attacks?” I ask when I can’t take it any longer.
“No,” Jasper says.
“That’s good then, right?”
“Maybe.” He’s quiet again for a moment but this time I wait for him to speak. “Our intelligence seems to think it might mean something else. That Walter is done poking the bear.”
“What does that mean?” I drop my stick in the fire and run a hand down my face.
“It means he’s getting ready to attack us headfirst, with the full brunt of his army.”
My throat tenses up, making it impossible to swallow.
“The war we’ve been talking about, Max. It’s coming. And sooner than we think.”
I take a few quick breaths, pushing air out through pursed lips to try and keep myself calm.
“We’re running out of time, Max.”
“I understand.”
“And we need the rogues’ help, or Mia and Olivia to patch things up with the Rocky Pack or we’re done for. Have you looked for them yet?”
“Not yet,” I say, feeling guilty, but also, I wanted to try and make my rogue plan work before using my powers to find the girls.
“Max, we can’t wait much longer.”
“I get it,” I snap, maybe a little forcefully, not because I’m angry at Jasper, but because I’m angry at our situation, at Walter, at the whole idea of packs and hierarchies. I quickly course correct. “I’m sorry, I know you’re just worried about home.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you feel any more pressure. I’m glad you’ve been getting so much from this trip. I’m just . . .” Are those tears I can hear in his voice? “I’m scared, Max.”
I push my feet out in front of me, making trails in the dirt. The fire is beginning to die down.
“I know. I promise we’re doing everything we can. We have a tip about another settlement a couple of days from where we are. Maybe we’ll have better luck there, and we haven’t reached the Sanc yet, so . . . ?”
“So things could still turn around,” he says, not sounding like he believes his own words.
Again, we let the silence hang long and filled with everything we can’t say.
“I love you, Max.”
“I love you too. Speak tomorrow?”
“That sounds good, and, just so you know, I’m proud of you too. If anyone can save us, it’s you, my mate.”
I exhale and let my shoulders drop as the mind-link disconnects.
Jasper has this way of taking on an ultraromantic tone sometimes, especially when things are feeling dire.
Not that I’m complaining, but sometimes the correlation between his increased affection and the stress fueling it can freak me out.
Once the fire is out, I make my way back to the car, shutting the back door quietly as I climb in to try and get some shut-eye.
“How’s the alpha?” Omar asks, keeping his eyes closed.
“Worried,” I say, shoving a rolled-up hoodie under my head and curling my knees up to my chest to fit lengthwise along the back seat. “Do you think we’ll find anyone willing to help us?”
I sit up when Omar doesn’t answer, wondering if his silence means our situation is hopeless. But when I do I find him having fallen back asleep. His mouth is hanging open, his head flopped against the window.
Outside, the moon is silver and swollen, and I send out a prayer, hoping Selene can hear me.