33. Feral
Feral
Darkness grows, but it’s the silence that concerns me. I should hear the footsteps of my troop, the breathing of Alphas trying to stay silent. I’m alone. I’m the only one who made it out.
Shit.
My foot drags behind me. The gunshot wound aching, but I know I need to keep moving. I don’t know what direction I’m heading in, but as long as it’s far away from this place, I’ll consider that successful.
My mind replays the mission over and over in my head.
They knew we were coming.
They had to.
Our plan was solid. We should have been invisible. Move in, kill the target, and get out. I said I should go alone. I was outvoted.
Now they’re all dead.
How the fuck did I make it out?
A branch snags on my leg, digging into the wound, and I hiss. I bite my lip, trying to keep my sounds as silent as possible. They could be following me. They could be watching me right now.
Capturing me wouldn’t do them much good. But they wouldn’t do it for information, no, it would be revenge.
My squad has been responsible for every failed operation they’ve had this past six months. Every gun drop missed, everybody that has turned up on their shores, and every victim rescued. That’s what we were trained for: quick operations. We are—were—a small team of four.
We work as a unit.
Ever vote matters.
We each had our areas of speciality. This was my mission. Target elimination.
I shake off the thought. None of that is going to help me. Not now. I need to make it 24 hours. That’s when we were due our next check in. After we fail to do that, they’ll look for me.
Pain ricochets down my leg, and blood fills my mouth as I bite down.
I stumble but catch myself and force my body to keep moving.
A light flickers in the dark. My heart hammers in my chest, my lungs scream, and instincts tell me I’m fucked.
Adrenaline courses through my muscles, and I pick up speed. Thank fuck for being an Alpha. I keep moving, dragging my useless limb behind me.
A cry sounds out in the distance, and I freeze.
The wind hits me, freezing cold air whistling through the trees, and I’ve half convinced myself the sound wasn’t real.
Another scream.
Very real.
I turn, running in that direction. The cries get louder, and the sound of more voices joins the echoes.
There.
Between the trees, an old, abandoned building flickers with light. The closer I get, the more I see. I count the shadows. At least seven people inside that I can see.
The cries intensify, and I know I can’t wait.
I pat myself down. Two guns. Two knives, and fuck knows how many bullets left. Not many is my guess.
I keep my back to the wall and move around the side of the building.
I jump through a smashed window, the pain in my leg all but forgotten.
The floors threaten to creak. I keep myself plastered to the wall.
A short Alpha enters the room, bending down to retrieve something from inside a bag.
I lunge, pulling my knife across his throat, blood spilling down over my hand and dripping to the floor.
Quick and silent. That is what this needs to be.
I lie him down, shoving him into the darkest corner.
The hall is darker, but light spills from under the door at the end. Just my luck. They’re all together.
The door opens and two bodies exit.
“You go find Gunner. He’s probably trying to steal the good liquor again. I’ll get the—”
I don’t wait for him to finish. I slide across the floor and slice into his thigh. He drops like a log. Heavy and loud. I jump up before the other one can react and stab him in the neck. He gargles, coughing and clutching his throat before thumping to the floor.
Dizziness attacks my head.
I am not at my best.
“What was that?”
A scream cuts through my head, pain slithering inside my brain, trying to make me feel anything other than the adrenaline keeping me going.
“Shut the fuck up!” someone shouts, and the screaming stops.
“Go check.” He orders.
The door swings open, catching on the pile of bodies slumped on the floor.
“What the fu—”
I risk my gun, pulling it from my holster and firing into his skull. Another one for the pile. I’m starting a collection. I chuckle to myself.
Fuck, I’m losing it.
I throw open the door. I was right. Three more inside. Luckily, one is the victim. By the looks of it, he’s a Beta and has no business being here. He’s dressed the same as the others, so my best guess would be that he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.
Or so I hope.
He’s bruised and bleeding from a wound on his head. Tears roll down his face, but it’s the look of hope he gives me that forces me to keep going.
I fire again. A bullet flies right through one of their skulls. I don’t hesitate to turn to the other. Only this time, my luck runs out.
He charges at me. I throw my gun and dive out of the way. Landing on my bad leg. He lands on top of me, trapping me against the floor. His eyes flash with rage. He is not going to make this quick. His fist comes down and crashes against my cheekbone. It cracks under his knuckles.
I grab his throat, squeezing until his face turns red. Giving me enough room to reach between us. My fingers find the hilt of my knife, and I thrust it up through his chin.
He slumps against me, crushing me and my leg.
I groan, trying to lift him enough to roll away, but all my energy is gone.
Light shines through the window. Sounds of shouts and orders being given surround me. My eyes find the terrified Beta.
“Go.”
“But yo—”
“Go,” I order.
He runs, taking off down the corridor from which I came. I can only hope he makes it.
Smoke and gas spread through the room, choking my throat and filling my lungs. The last thing I see is the barrel of a gun.
* * *
Two Months Later
It snarls against the bars of the cage, nails tearing through flesh as it tries to carve a way out. Its eyes are red, hollow, and sunken. Blood trickles from its mouth.
I turn away.
I can’t watch today.
“You still with me, Atwood?”
“Sure am, Hollis.” I reply.
I sound weak. I sound like they did before they turned.
Once I had hope. That we would all escape together. What a fucking joke that was. One by one, we’ve all lost it in some way.
The cracks in the ceiling look out into the forest. Green and alive. A reminder of how close freedom is, and how precious life is. I’m unsure if it’s a gift or a curse.
I spend more time in my head than I do in the real world. Hollis likes to sing. Clearly he’s further gone than I thought.
Five strangers brought together to rot away.
I thought we could keep each other strong. Remind each other of who we used to be. We exchanged names, details about our lives, but it made it harder. A reminder of what we had lost. We resorted to last names, something to anchor us, but not enough to be painful.
Walsh was the first to go.
He has a daughter at home.
They took him, and when he came back, he was a shell of himself. We don’t know what they did or said, but he changed quickly after that.
They don’t come for us often.
Actually, they haven’t been in over a month. Leaving us seems to be working as well as torture ever did. With limited food and water and nothing but a cage to sit in, your mind turns on you quickly.
First sadness, then anger and more anger and more. An Alpha trait if I’ve ever seen one. This intense, all-consuming anger. When denied or worse, the Alpha fails, it eats away inside them. Turning their thoughts on themselves.
They say shit. Shit I refuse to listen to. Shit that can’t be reasoned with. They blame everyone around them until they’re nothing but anger.
At that point, the only thing they have to look forward to is looking like Devi. Red, beady eyes watching and snarling at everything that moves.
A delight, really.
“If that happens to me, Hollis. Kill me the first chance you get.”
“Me too, Atwood.”
“Deal.”
I shut my eyes and drift.
A song lulls me under.
* * *
The anger swells inside me, but the numbness fights it off. I don’t have the energy to be angry. I barely have enough to be alive.
My mind tries to pull me back under, but I fight it.
Something tugs at the corner of my mind, an awareness trying to keep me awake.
Light pours into the room. Words. Actual coherent words are spoken. I try to sit up, but my body denies me.
“Is anyone alive?”
I croak.
The snarls and groans of feral Alphas respond.
More light.
“Fuck. What’s wrong with them?”
The groaning of metal fills my ears. Their bodies slam into the bars, erratic and angry.
With all my strength, I pull myself across the floor. My eyes strain in the light, but finally they open.
An Alpha approaches one of the gates, keys dangling from his fingers.
I smash my hand into the bars.
“Don’t!” I shout.
My voice sounds like gravel, but it’s enough for everyone to look in my direction. They work quickly, binding my wounds and giving me water. They wanted to carry me out, but I refused.
Good to know that part of me is still alive.
“Gun.”
They pass each other a hesitant look but slide the metal into my grip.
I clutch the bars, pulling myself up. Never have I been so grateful for accelerated healing, or my leg would be destroyed. I remember getting the bullet out and nothing much after.
One, excruciating slow step at a time, I manage to make it out of my cage.
I fire.
What was Hollis drops to the floor.
I expect to be tackled. For the gun to be pried out of my hands. To be demanded to explain myself. Instead, each of the bodies drop. Bullets fly from the guns of military officers into the skulls, finishing them in one swoop.
I don’t look. I don’t wait for an explanation.
They were feral.
They needed to die.
I walk out of there with one thing on my mind. Feral Alphas are dangerous, and no one is doing a thing about them.