Wolf Running (15 page)

Nowen had found the idea of being able of the wolf surprisingly easy to accept; after all, in a world where the dead walked and outnumbered the living, what was such a big thing about being a shape-changer? How she’d become one, who had made her this way, were there others like her out there - for every little piece of herself that was revealed more seemed to disappear, and the unanswered questions continued to pile up.

Wearily she pulled herself up. Movement by the front window caught her attention and she walked slowly over to it, one hand pressed to her aching side. She pulled back the thin curtain and found herself face-to-face with a Rev.

This one had been a young man, probably in his early twenties. He still wore the clothes he’d had on the last day of his life, but exposure to the weather was turning the jeans and hooded sweatshirt into rags. His vacant yellow eyes roamed over the window glass and he pawed softly at the barrier, the tips of his fingers showing bone where skin had rotted away. Nowen watched the Rev calmly, noting the damage that was occurring as his body decayed. His face was the familiar blue-grey color of moldy bread. A flap of skin had peeled back from his forehead, revealing cracked, dirty bone. He looked desiccated, the thin flesh stretched taut across the angular skull, blackened teeth bared in a tight-lipped grin.

The Rev didn’t seem to see her, she realized. His limited attention might have been drawn by the flash of sunlight off the window or the wind rustling through the dead grass. Behind him she could see a group of Revs, four or five all together, making their steady, staggering way along the highway. The watcher at her window noticed the group and lurched away to join them.

On her second day here she had first seen the Revs moving up and down the highway, lonely wanderers on a journey beyond her understanding. The largest group she had seen had been about twenty, most of them dressed in some type of military uniform. It had taken them the better part of the day to cross the field of vision offered by the window. She wondered how they were still alive, or whatever state of being they were in, with prey surely less available in this lonely country.

Now, the weather was getting colder each day, although so far there had been no snow. Nowen saw less and less of the Revs moving around now as hunger or the cold slowed down them.
Or killed them, if I’m that lucky,
she thought now as she watched the single Rev join the others. She went through the kitchen and out the back door, pausing to grab a bottle of water as she did so. She stood on the porch, sipping water and looking around.

The fresh water hadn’t died on her, though she still kept an extra supply ready. She still had food, although she was getting tired of canned carrots and beets. The house she was staying in was set off by itself, but she had seen several other houses within a half-mile radius. She was determined to check them for supplies as soon as her ribs healed a little more.

A loud shriek startled her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see two large feathered shapes tangling together high over her head. As the hawks fought one of them dropped something that plummeted through the air to land almost at her feet. She stooped to look at it.

It was a dead hare, either killed by the hawk’s talons or the impact of landing. Drops of blood beaded along its whiskers. Its wild dark eye stared emptily at her. Biting her lip against the pain in her ribs Nowen bent a little lower and stroked its soft-furred side. The body was still warm.

The scent of blood filled her nostrils in a rush, tangy and metallic. Her stomach growled and saliva flooded her mouth. She touched the tip of one finger to a perfect crimson drop, balanced on the end of a white whisker, and brought the blood to her lips.

The taste rampaged through her body, setting fire to her nerves and throwing her all her senses into overdrive. Too late she realized the danger, and even as she scrambled away from the hare she could feel the cage giving way inside.

The wolf didn’t so much emerge as explode into existence. The loose sweatpants and over-large t-shirt disintegrated as the wolf tore herself free to stand on the rough prairie, black as midnight and wild as the wind. She shook herself roughly, all over, and then pounced on the dead hare. Four quick bites and the animal was reduced to bits of fur and bone. She raised her head, licking her lips as she looked around.

The wind was up, blowing cold across the prairie. She could smell snow in the air, and pine and juniper. Faintly came the earthy smells of prey animals, rabbits and groundhogs, foxes and mice. The wide-open grassland was alive with hidden life, and it beckoned the wolf. She bowed and stretched, digging her claws into the rough ground. Then she was off.

The wolf ran for the sheer joy of running, speeding across the prairie with abandon. Her thick black fur swept back in the wind of her passing as the browns and greens of the plains blurred in her sight. A flock of ptarmigan were startled into flight and the wolf leapt playfully after one, coming away with a mouthful of feathers.

She picked up the scent of a hare and slowed, tracking it to a stand of leafless maples. She was searching through the undergrowth when her right front leg began to twitch violently. The black-furred paw shook from the tremors that raced through it, and as the wolf watched the paw started to change shape. She growled in anger as the strangeness began to move further up her leg, the thick pelt disappearing into the light brown skin. An all-pervading smell of human enveloped her, a smell of the other, the one who would keep her caged.

The wolf jumped back, a primal urge to escape overwhelming her. She ran, wrapped in a wild turmoil. The misshapen leg changed her graceful movement into a stumbling lurch. The stench of the other was everywhere now, clouding her senses.

The wolf fought as long as she could in a futile effort to keep her freedom. She snapped her jaws at the parts of her body that were changing. She sunfished, leaping and twisting against the afternoon sun. She charged across the prairie desperately, trying to outrace her changing body, but to no avail. With a last angry snarl the animal was gone and the human was there.

Nowen panted hard as she stood in the fading day.
You can’t have your way all the time
, she sent to the wolf. Even as she shivered in the brisk breeze, acutely aware of her nudity, she felt a great sense of triumph. She had forced the wolf to bow to her demands. For the first time since she woke up in the hospital, so long ago now, she felt in charge. In charge of her choices and in charge of her destiny.

She rubbed her arms fiercely and searched the landscape for some familiar landscape. Finally she sighted her house, south of her position and several miles away.
Damn you.
She sighed and started walking.

Nowen had crossed a half-mile of rough grassland when she realized that her broken ribs weren’t hurting. She stopped in sheer amazement and pressed her hand against her side. There was no pain.

I guess you’re good for something
, she said to the wolf. A rough growl that echoed through her head was her only response.

Chapter Fifteen

Now

“I hate this life.”

The words were no louder than a heartbeat yet they drew Nowen out of a light sleep in which she had been replaying the events of the previous day. In her half-dream Tuck slapped her once, and then the wolf tore him apart, limb from limb and agonizingly slow. Reluctantly she tore herself from this pleasant fantasy and, keeping her head still, she looked through slitted eyelids at her fellow captives. Zoe and Lennon were curled together under a thin blanket on the floor. On the bed at the rear of the camper Mr. Roberts and the twin girls were still sleeping, light snoring coming from the slack mouth of the middle-aged man.

His wife was the one who had spoken. She stood at door of the camper, looking out the small window. The soft, early-morning light was gentle on her face, smoothing away wrinkles and worry lines. She rested her forehead against the glass and closed her eyes, speaking in a voice as soft as rainfall. “I hate it. It’s ugly, and it’s making us ugly. Is there a point to this?”

Nowen startled when the older woman turned her head and looked at her. The look of utter hopelessness in Mrs. Roberts’ eyes was bottomless as she said “Is there?”

Nowen had no response. The woman crossed to her suddenly. Nowen leaned back as Mrs. Roberts hovered over her. “Is there a point to this?” she said again, crossing her arms protectively over her chest, waiting for an answer.

Nowen shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This!” Mrs. Roberts hissed, waving an arm around. “Everything. The world. You know what I’m talking about! Nothing will ever be the same!”

Against her better wishes Nowen found herself trying to offer comfort. “It’ll get better,
what is her first name?
Mrs. Roberts. I’m sure you and your family will find a safe place to live-”

Bitter words cut her off. “It won’t be the same! How many living people did we see yesterday? None! And how many of those, those,
things
are there now? Hundreds!”

“But they aren’t everywhere, I’m sure. Up north, I saw hardly any Revs.”

“That’s not the point! That’s not the point at all!” Mrs. Roberts leaned in closer, the smell of dried sweat and unwashed body rising off her in a cloud. Her voice rose as she continued. “We’re outnumbered, and it’s only a matter of time before we die! So why wait? Why keep moving on, day after day, never knowing when the end will come?” She paused, raising her eyes from Nowen’s to stare into a future only she could see. “Why do we even try to keep living?”

Behind the agitated woman Nowen could see the two young people on the floor stirring. Lennon lifted his head first, watching. Nowen looked back up at Mrs. Roberts. This close, she could see the light grey hairs sprinkled through the auburn hair, the crow’s feet spreading from the corners of the olive-green eyes. Those eyes were staring at her expectantly, wanting something she didn’t have to give.

“Why do you keep going?” the other woman asked.

She could only shrug again.

“You must have a reason!”

“Mrs. Roberts,
damn it, what is her name?
I don’t know what you want-”

“Just tell me!” Desperation edging on hysteria colored the older woman’s words. “I’ve been watching you. You never seem scared or lonely or upset. Why not? What do you know that makes you different?!”

Nowen shook her head. “Mrs. Roberts, please-”

“Tell me!” she was almost shouting now. “Tell me what hope there is for us, for my children!”

There was nothing Nowen could say, and now she found herself wishing that Mrs. Roberts would just go away. Then Lennon was there, taking the other woman by the shoulders and turning her away. “Carla”, he whispered, “calm down. You don’t want to scare Lisa and Michelle.” His eyes met Nowen’s as he led Mrs. Roberts
it’s Carla try and remember that
back to the bed where her husband and children still slept, murmuring quietly to her all the way. He got her settled and then came back to where Nowen sat.

Lennon sank to the floor next to her small seat, crossing his legs lotus-style.

He studied her face closely. “You are a very fast healer. The bruising on your face is hardly noticeable. And your black eye is looks considerably better.”

Nowen twisted in her seat to see him more clearly. “Do you agree with what Mrs. Roberts was saying?”

The young man sighed heavily. “Yes. And no. Obviously, nothing will ever be the same. One of the last media reports I heard before they all went off the air said something like, 90-95 percent of the population had this Flux. How many people is that?”

Nowen shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Same here. But it would have to be a lot. Billions. So....things do look hopeless. Between the dead-heads and our captors I’m never quite sure if I’m going to make it from one day to the next. But...I’m not ready to give up just yet.”

“Why not?”

Lennon’s grey eyes were frank and open. “I have no idea. All I know is that I’m not there yet.”

“I was kinda hoping that the cold would have killed them off.” This came from Zoe. The young woman was watching them, lying on her stomach and resting her chin in her hands. “But as it warms up, and as we keep going south, the damn things are everywhere.”

Nowen nodded. “In Laramie they just slowed down a lot. It made it easy to get away from them, but even temperatures below freezing didn’t seem to stop them entirely.”

Lennon leaned forward, eager interest visible in his brown-skinned face. “So, Laramie? Is that where’re you’re from?”

“Not...originally. I just spent the last few months there.”

“Oh? Then where?”

“It’s complicated.” Nowen sighed.

Zoe pulled herself along the floor on the blanket to join Lennon. “Well, we’re not going anywhere. I wanna hear all about the mystery woman.” Her words were tinged with sarcasm and Lennon gave her a look but didn’t say anything. In the teenager’s hazel eyes Nowen could see mistrust and anger, along with genuine curiosity.

She closed her own eyes for a moment, organizing her thoughts. “Honestly, I don’t know where I come from. Or even who I am.”

Lennon smiled. “Now
that’s
an exciting beginning!”

The two young people listened as Nowen told them of the days in the hospital, the massacre on the second floor, the scavenging for supplies amid the massed hordes of Revs. She told them of how she got separated from Jamie, but kept the more fantastic details to herself.

“And you don’t know how you got to Wyoming, huh?” Zoe asked skeptically.

Nowen shook her head slowly. “Um, everything after the race through the alleys is a blank. The next clear thing I remember is finding myself outside Laramie.”

Lennon leaned forward. “And you spent the entire winter there?”

“I was injured. Broke some ribs. It took a while to heal, and then I got snowed in.” Nowen shrugged.

“And now you’re headed back to Exeter, to search for your friend.”