Wolfen (24 page)

“Can you teach me to hunt?” she asked, gathering all of her
arrows back up.

“Not today.”

“Are you sure? I’m a pretty quick study.” Her small victory
over static targets had made her giddy. She hopped from foot to foot, bow in
hand, arrow nocked. “Please?”

Bryce glared.

“Just throw something! I want to see if I can hit it.”

He sighed, picked up a pine cone, and hurled it into the
sky. It disappeared before she’d even had a chance to sight it down.

“I wasn’t ready that time.”

“Then that’s your first lesson in hunting. You want to eat?
Be ready. Always.” He took her bow and stashed it on the mule’s back bench.
“Get in. We’ve got ground to cover.”

“Be ready. Meh, meh, meh,” she mimicked, climbing back into
her seat.

The mule had taken a serious beating. Even after as good a scrubbing
as they could manage, it looked like crap. Somehow, though, it still worked,
and after an hour of trekking through the woods at a crawl, they found a
semi-decent road again and turned south.

It was a quiet drive, which bothered Sinna for a while, but
then they were out in the open and she settled in to watch the scenery pass by.
She imagined what the people in the Gilroy colony would be like. Despite
Bryce’s fears, Sinna believed there had to be some good left in people.

Maybe they’d already made that serum thing, and Sinna and
Bryce wouldn’t have to take the girl, just the chemical solution. Maybe they
weren’t like Klaus at all.

And maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and the sky will rain
down chocolate chip cookies.

Sinna frowned at the horizon. “Hey, Bryce, do you see what I
see?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly.

Dark, ominous storm clouds were gathering a few miles off,
and the mule was heading right for them.

“What do we do?”

Even as she asked it, the sun dimmed, taking its
battery-recharging power with it. This was coming together faster than Sinna
liked, and there was no shelter nearby that she could see.

“We keep going as long as we can,” Bryce said, knuckles
white on the steering wheel. He was gradually speeding up, as if they had a
snowball’s chance in hell of outrunning it.

“What happens when we can’t go anymore?” Rain and wind were
minor inconveniences; she could handle that, no problem. A little water,
possibly hypothermia? They just had to wait out the cold and they’d be fine.
The rumble of thunder worried her more. Lightning liked fast-moving metal
objects.

Bryce didn’t answer. “Keep an eye out for caves, buildings,
fallen trees; anything we can hide under.”

“Right.” She could do that.

The first blast of chilled air sent a shiver of unease down
her spine, and the first drops of rain almost sent her into a panic. Then it
started pouring so hard she couldn’t see anything at all through the deluge.
Without windshield wipers, Bryce was driving blind.

But he never slowed.

Which was why he hit the lone figure in the road, head-on.

FUCK!

A body struck the windshield, bounced, and rolled over the
roof onto the truck bed. Bryce slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel hard
left, but the mule lost purchase on the wet pavement and hydroplaned.

Sinna screamed, stiff-arming herself away from the
dashboard, eyes squeezed shut. Water poured in through the windows. Bryce
couldn’t see shit, and they were spinning so fast, he had no point of reference
nor enough leverage to do much about it.

With every ounce of his considerable strength, he yanked on
the steering wheel, turning the tires in the direction of their spin to regain
some control. The mule careened off the road, hit a solid patch of dirt, and
skidded to a hard sideways stop. The right side tires lifted into the air; the
truck teetered, suspended on two wheels, before it tipped back and safely
slammed down onto all fours.

“
Fuck!
” No other word for it. Just…
fuck.

Sinna pushed wet hair from her face with a shaky hand. She’d
left it loose to dry into big, glossy curls around her face and shoulders. Now
it was a sopping mess again, clinging to her skin. “What the hell was that?”

Bryce shoved open his door and climbed out into the rain,
slamming it shut again. That last bit of force disintegrated the windshield and
showered the dashboard with shards. He growled, and stalked around to the back
of the mule.

Sinna came out on the other side. “Is he alive?”

Bryce grabbed ahold of the guy, who’d somehow gotten stuck between
compartments, and hauled him off the truck to the ground.

“Easy!” Sinna snapped, falling to her knees next to the
squirrely looking little shit who’d almost gotten them all killed. She checked
his pulse. “He’s alive.”

Great.

“Help me get him inside.”

“What?”

“We can’t just leave him out here!”

Like hell they couldn’t. “No.”

She growled at him—actually growled, showing off some pretty
unimpressive fangs—and dragged the roadkill around to her side.

“We are
not
taking him with us!”

Sinna dropped her burden and stepped over him to face off
with Bryce, squinting against the rain. “Did it even occur to you that he might
know where to find shelter around here?”

“No!”

“Look at him!” She pointed an imperious finger. “Clean
clothes. Solid shoes.” She waved her arms wide. “Out here. And no weapons!”

Bryce looked. The guy could have been anywhere between
thirty and fifty years old, five and a half feet, if that, and scrawny. Yeah,
his clothes were decent, but his brown hair probably hadn’t seen a comb in ten
years. Grime was layered thick beneath unnecessarily long fingernails, and his
buck teeth were some indeterminate grayish-yellow color.

“So what?”

“
Bah!
” Sinna turned her back on him, crouched over
the guy, and slapped him across the face.

Roadkill man moaned, groaned, and then wailed a drawn-out
“Oooowwww!” while curling up into the fetal position.

“Hey, are you okay? Is anything broken?”

“Oh, God, help me! I think I’m dying!”

Bryce rolled his eyes. “See? He’s fine. Let’s go.” He
grasped Sinna’s arm to move her along, but she shook him off, her attention
focused on mothering the wailing scat.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked.

He mewled, and opened one eye to squint at her. “Randy.”

“Randy, I’m Sinna. And this is Bryce. Can you tell us where
you came from?”

Randy looked from her to Bryce. “Home?”

“Okay, and where’s that?”

Randy giggled nervously. “You ran me over.”

“You jumped in front of my car,” Bryce snapped.

“I didn’t know there were any left alive, did I!” Randy
argued and, hunching forward, he pulled a ratty little teddy bear out of his
pocket. “Was supposed to bring this back.”

Sinna looked worriedly at Bryce. “Are there children living
with you?” The idea of little ones around this guy left a bad taste in Bryce’s
mouth.

“Emma and Annie need a fourth for tea.”

“All right, come on.” Sinna helped the weasel sit up.

“Sinna. Storm.” It was getting worse, but Bryce’s argument
didn’t hold much weight, not while Randy petted that teddy bear of his as if
he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

“Noted,” Sinna replied. “Where is home, Randy? Is it close
to here?”

Randy lolled his head from side to side, then turned it into
a nod. Not exactly a decisive answer. Something was off with him. A shifty
fellow with buggy eyes that held an unnerving gleam when he looked Sinna over.

“Okay,” Sinna said, oblivious to being ogled. “Which way?”

Randy hugged the teddy bear inside his jacket, and lolled
his head to look out down the road.

Sinna pushed for more. “Over there?”

Bryce scanned the area. “I don’t see anything.”

Randy giggled again. “Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t
mean it’s not there.” He gasped suddenly, his eyes widening. “Do you wanna come
see it?” He was asking Sinna.

Bryce growled.

Randy shied away with a low whine. “Or not. You know. Whatever.”
His gaze twitched to Sinna then back to Bryce so rapidly it made Bryce dizzy.
“I have books.” Another nervous giggle, as if he couldn’t help himself. “I have
lots of books. And a stick figure theater. I made it myself. You wanna see? I’m
sure the girls would love some company.”

Bryce’s hackles stood on end at his tone.

Randy laughed hysterically, but the sound cut short and a
maniacal glint lit up his blue eyes. “I am king of the underworld.” He turned a
proud grin on Sinna, and raised a grimy hand to scratch at his temple in a
squirrely twitch. “I’ll show you.”

Sinna looked at Bryce askance.

He shook his head, held his hand out to her. “Let’s go,
Sinna.” A crazy guy in the middle of nowhere, carrying a teddy bear? There was
no part of this that wasn’t raising alarms in his head. His gut told him this
was a bad place to be, and his claws itched to put an end to the vermin, but he
hadn’t done anything to harm them—yet. And the way Sinna waffled, if Randy shed
one tear, which he looked like he might, she’d relent.

Randy scrambled to his feet, frowning. “Are you sure?” His
whiny voice grated on Bryce’s nerves. “There’s no rain in the underworld. And
it’s warm, too.”

Lightning cracked across the sky. Randy snarled at it,
shaking his head against the rain. “Come on.” He snatched Sinna’s hand and
dragged her along after him.

Bryce swore, grabbed his knives from the mule, and followed.
Randy was surprisingly fast; he was across the road and in the middle of a
field in seconds. Then they both just dropped out of sight.

“Sinna!” Bryce roared. The earth gave way beneath his feet,
and he slid down a muddy incline into some kind of underground cavern at least
fifty feet below the surface. How the hell had the weasel gotten up there in
the first place? But the issue was a minor one compared to being trapped in a
closed-in perimeter with water pouring in by the gallons. Already a puddle had
grown at Bryce’s feet.

“Sinna,” he called again, squinting through the rain to find
her.

“Bryce!” she called back.

There was a vault door twenty yards in front of him, and
Randy, with Sinna in tow, was running toward it. With a growl, Bryce shoved to
his feet and raced after them. Good thing the portal was so heavy; the weasel
struggled to open it, and Bryce made it inside after them just before the
little shit could slam the door in his face.

Wrath flashed through his veins like the lightning outside,
threatening to overwhelm his control. Bryce grabbed Randy by the throat,
slammed him hard against the wall. “Now you die.”

“What is this place?” Sinna’s odd tone of voice brought
Bryce’s head around.

He froze, breath locking in his chest, hand going numb
enough for Randy to escape his grasp and drop to the floor.

A long white corridor stretched in front of them,
fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead. The floors were smooth concrete,
walls sporting a thick green stripe down the length of the hallway, with
computer monitors, now dead and dark, built in next to every door.

Bryce barely stifled a shudder when Sinna looked at him in
question. He could taste her confusion in the air. With the weasel momentarily
forgotten, Bryce dragged his feet toward the closest door, dreading what he
knew was on the other side. He traced the transparent green symbol on the glass
window, lost in time.

Before his eyes, the door melted away and lights flickered
to life on their own, illuminating a massive chamber filled with glassware and
machinery. Shelves upon shelves lined the walls, each compartment holding a
built-in synthetic sac. UV lamps shone through the liquid inside, providing
heat and comfort, simulating womb-like conditions as closely as possible. There
were creatures in them; fetuses in different stages of development, human-like
on the outside, but evolving into something very different on the inside. Even
blind and deaf, they turned toward the lamps for artificial comfort, while the
monitors next to them tracked their development, keeping timelines and notes of
anomalies.

Scientists wearing white coats and face masks tended to the
specimens, checking life signs and responses to outer stimuli. They touched the
sacs and recorded the child’s reaction: whether the fetus turned toward the
touch or shrank away from it, whether it moved or twitched. They didn’t talk to
each other, all of them absorbed in their tasks. Each had his own assigned
specimens, his personal responsibility, and no one wanted to lose a test
subject to inattention.

The massive center column was the processing unit that kept conditions
stable, altering each sac individually as needed, and delivering nutritional
gel via a series of long tubes straight into the umbilical cords. It sensed
when a fetus was hatch-ready; the gel flow became blocked and the cord severed
itself naturally without human intervention. A signal beeped, alerting the
scientist, and then the amniotic fluid was drained to leave a newborn lying
still on the shelf, ready to be collected by an orderly and wheeled away into
the nursery.

“Bryce? Where are we?” Sinna’s voice was uneasy, muffled.
She wasn’t asking for an answer but a confirmation of what she already
suspected. It shattered his hallucination, leaving Bryce disoriented and
chilled to the bone. He was breathing hard and staring through the little window
into darkness on the other side.

Randy was still yammering on in a long string of garbled
run-on sentences while Sinna stared at Bryce, beautiful hazel eyes filled with
dread.

He didn’t know what to tell her.

She pulled his hand from the window, uncovering the Greek
letter Sigma. It gave her pause, but then she grasped the handle and pushed the
door open. The lights didn’t turn on, but they didn’t need them. In the
chamber’s cavernous darkness, thin plastics billowed on the sudden shift in air
like ghosts. Machinery and computers sat neatly stacked along the sides, the
half-built central processing column dark.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked. She’d been so young
when Chernobyl imploded, he didn’t know how much she would have remembered.

Sinna shook her head.

“It’s a hatchery,” he grated. “We’re inside a den.”

Just like Chernobyl. In the heart of California. It wasn’t
finished yet, by the looks of it. Whoever had built it must have run out of
time, but the layout was almost identical—same corridors, same markings, same
equipment. Same scent of stale air and disinfectant.

Sinna shivered. “How many of these damn places are there?”

Bryce’s jaw popped when he opened his mouth wide to
unclench. “We’re getting out of here. Now.”

Randy giggled. “Getting out… Hee-hee.” He dropped the smirk
when Bryce glared at him.

“Come on, Sinna.” He wasn’t about to stay here another
second. He took Sinna’s hand and rounded on Randy, who stood between them and
the way out.

“The entrance is useless wet,” Randy said quickly. “It’s
flooding already, you saw. You’ll never make it up. Besides. Tea.”

Breathing hard, Bryce turned the other way. If this place
was a copy of Chernobyl, then there would be several emergency exit hatches
around the facility. He knew what to look for; it was only a matter of looking.
“Let’s go.”

Randy raced after them. “But the girls are waiting!”

Bullshit. If there had been children, Bryce would have heard
them. Children made noise.

“Don’t you want to stay a while and warm up? It’s storming
outside!”

“He has a point,” Sinna said, teeth chattering.

“You don’t like being underground,” Bryce reminded her.

She tugged at his hand. “Yeah, but I like storms even less.”

“Yes, yes. Listen to her!” Randy cried.

Bryce huffed and shook himself off. The smell was getting to
him, burrowing under his skin. The faster they got out of here, the better.
“I’ll find us another shelter.” He picked up his step, keeping Sinna close.

“We have heat! And food!” Randy shouted, jogging behind
them. “And there’s water, too, and music, and books—
stop!
” He raced
ahead to block Bryce’s way again. “Please don’t go yet. I-I-I—there’s nobody
else.” He blinked rapidly, buggy eyes pleading. “Just for a while. Just until
the storm blows over.”

“Move,” Bryce growled, “or I will go through you.”

“I have a nook! It’s nice and cozy, nothing like this. Over
there a bit. I hate this place, anyway. Too. You know. It’s creepy and shit.
Like, all smooth and polished like.” Another nervous giggle. “At least let me
show you.” His eyes kept darting to Sinna. “She’s cold, man! Shaking like a
leaf. You gonna take her back out into
that
out there?”

Bryce hesitated. Sinna
was
shivering. They had no
shelter up top, and it was freezing. The den was abandoned; no threat here,
except for an unstable little human Bryce could snap like a twig if push came
to shove. The logical choice was to stay. It’s what Aiden would have done.