《The Injured》 Prologue Societies rarely fall peacefully. Even the smallest tend to end with some sort of strife. Friendships break down, new enemies are born, and people grow apart. When the smallest of organizations crack, only the members themselves tend to notice. Clubs and groups fall apart all the time, and they never leave a lasting impression when they do so. All that is left behind are memories, faint and fading as the days and months pass. As these groups grow larger, the imprints they leave in their collapse grow in size as well. While your local book club may only get an article in the smallest newspaper around when its members begin to fragment, any injury to yourself, in fact to any of the members, is fleeting. A few of the more malicious participants may lash out against those that they feel betrayed by, insults and jabs that would be healed in time. The injuries while they can be painful, do not match up to those wrought when a much larger group begins to collapse. Money is lost in unimaginable ways, sums and numbers most would only dream of attaining are dragged screaming from ancient treasurer¡¯s palms. Lawyers and contracts are enacted, dragging everyone involved into court case after court case, determining who and what caused the fault in their organisation. Blame is tossed about, lives are lost to jail cells, and society at large moves on. These wounds are more severe, and have much longer and far reaching effects. Nothing lasts forever, every group collapses eventually. The largest last much longer on average, with the one that encompasses continuing on for much more than any could really perceive or even contemplate. For while chess clubs may poof into existence and disappear, humanity seems to have crept onto the scene without a start date, and with no exact end date either.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. But end it did. Not in a clean way, that some may have wished for, but in a way we couldn¡¯t imagine. Before the end occurred even in our more horrific nightmares, we could only catch glimpses of what would transpire. The frightened whispers of prophets and authors spoke of the endless reasons we could wipe ourselves off of the planet. Diseases. Weapons. Invaders. Stupidity. Everything on our planet, or even outside of its reaches, has been thought of a potential reason for our extinction. It should have survived what occurred. Humanity shouldn¡¯t have faltered like it did. Unfortunately the cracks had been forming since the first time a human broke another¡¯s skull open, the first time a falsehood left a set of lips, the first time a knife slipped silently in the dark. These cracks spread far and wide, ruining all that they touched, but humanity held on. Strangely it only seemed to grow stronger, to flourish and grow despite the foundation that crumbled below it. Every crack bandaged, every slash mortared. Until the wedges began to appear. For a time humanity held on, for that was all it could do. It fought against the dying of its light, screamed and thrashed, tearing at its own and sacrificing everything to continue. For a short segment of time heroes were born daily. Lives were saved, millions were cured, disasters always averted in the last gasping moments. But every wedge was driven deeper, every crack grew, and humanity crumbled with every passing moment. Humanity didn¡¯t die silently, crumbling into dust without leaving a trace. It died in nuclear fire. It died in pestilence. It died because of the Others. The end came suddenly, brutally, and without a trace of remorse. Humanity fell, scattered and broke. The last jagged shards of a once great species spread across the earth. Each piece broke in turn, each tried to rebuild the glory it was once a part of, but they could never return. Each generation had to deal with the wounds they had been dealt, each had to deal with the disasters of their own time. Chapter One: Jagged Pebbles Alexander hated walking. He hated every aspect of it with all the dark emotions his young heart could muster. Normally he would have loved the time spent with his father, but hunting trips always ended like this. One step in front of the other, ignoring the blisters scraping away on his barely shod feet, every step bringing fresh pain to remind the boy of his place in the world. The mornings were never this bad, never this rushed or impatient. Him and the looming figure before him would leave the village as soon as the light of the sun cleared the way, step after step out into the world. They would take their time, his father stopping every minute or so to check for tracks, scarred and shaking fingers sifting through small stones and dry twigs for the smallest signs of game. They could afford the time, they were in no rush. The light scared away the worst of the beasts, allowing what was left of humanity to sift through the rubble that surrounded the last bastions they held onto. But as the day grew older, and the light began to grow dimmer, the safety that the two hunters relied on would quickly begin to fade. It wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if any creature worth eating had been within a day¡¯s trek of the walls, but that hadn¡¯t been the case. The small rodents that snickered and chittered from the cracks around them were hardly worth a bullet. Only if they were truly starving would either of the hunters take a shot. They needed something larger, something that would sate the slowly growing family for more than a single meal. That was why the young boy and his father found themselves lugging the carcass of a deer over shoddy terrain, dusk rapidly approaching. The deer was half starved, with large pulsating growths covering one side of its flank but the duo knew that the trip had been worth it. If they could only reach the walls in time to make use of the beast. That was why Alexander was pushing himself this hard despite the small trickle of blood flowing into his grimy boots. Unfortunately for him, his father wasn¡¯t as capable as the wasteborn boy. The large man just didn¡¯t have the energy levels of his son. Saddled with the most of the meat, he was struggling to keep up the pace he had set. Unlike his son, the man had been born into better times. The ruins around him meant something, for he had seen the glory that had once radiated from the corpses of those buildings. Where his son saw the landscape he had been born into, his father saw the home he had been forced to abandon. Where his son traipsed and struggled through the faint green mist surrounding them, his father coughed and spluttered. Where his son abandoned thoughts of comfort as the skin on his feet grew worse and worse, his father struggled to do so. With shaking fingers the older man pressed the glasses on his nose upwards, a drop of sweat dripping from his nose and splattering onto the muddy ground below him. The lenses of his most prized possession were cracked, while the frame bent strangely off his face. It forced him to continually adjust them, as losing them at this point in his life would be a death sentence. If you couldn¡¯t see past the tip of your nose, you couldn¡¯t aim. If you couldn¡¯t aim, you couldn¡¯t hunt. If you couldn¡¯t hunt, he, his son, his wife, and his new young daughter would starve. His wife had repaired them as much as she could, the former mechanic trying her best with the fragile construct, but he knew there was only so much you could do.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. For all he knew the pair resting on his nose were the last in existence, for surely none had been made in the last twenty years. Maybe if he travelled enough he could find someone with the requisite skills to make him a new pair, but he doubted it. Unlike mechanics or doctors, optometrists didn¡¯t make it very far in the first stages. Government allocated safe zones could only support so many, and while surely a few had been invited, even the bureaucrats in those days had been making tough choices. Not that they had made smart ones, as the man¡¯s presence confirmed, but they had been tough. While his wife¡¯s skillset had been integral in the beginning years, his hadn¡¯t. Oncology had become a forgotten art in the irradiate nightmare their lives had become. No one needed the cures he had on hand any longer. While they surely would develop the urge to seek his services eventually, most had more pressing matters. Like the freakish mutants that tore through the corrugated metal of their walls, or the wails of the starving children they now found themselves in charge of. Doctor Pisk lifted his gaze upwards, the green mist parting only for a moment to allow a few harsh red beams to filter through the rubble. Lifting it even further he peered upwards, into the sky above him. Streaks of a sickly green colour weaved itself into a sky he knew had once been blue. Face flat for a moment he let out a sigh, old memories clashing with the sight before him. He was frozen like that until a fist struck him in the lower back, just below the corpse of the deer, prompting him back into reality. ¡°Have to keep moving,¡± his son grumbled, taking the lead from his father, one set of blue eyes meeting the other as he passed by. The doctor nodded, turning his gaze from the sky the moment he had felt the touch, once again trudging forwards. That was the other reason Alexander hated the walks back, his father always seemed to find new ways to waste both of their time. If it wasn¡¯t a moment or two spent cloud spotting, it was an excited gasp and a point at a plant he wanted to gather. The thirteen year old boy never understood his father¡¯s obsession with living things. He swore if it wasn¡¯t for the need for meat on the table, the gun slung over his father¡¯s shoulder would never get used. Doctor Pisk smiled, watching his sons back for a few moments, increasing his speed to catch up with the boy, his squelching boot splats causing the boy to turn and return the smile, ignoring one of the rules his father had drilled into his head from a young age. Always look where you were walking. A loud crack echoed around the pair as the boys foot pressed against a crumbling stone. If he had been watching he would have noticed it, noted it, and taken a longer route around that part of the path. Both he and his father new the dangers of hunting in urban environments. It was hardly the first underground subway he had broken into, but as the stone below him began to crumble away beneath his feet, the panicked look he gave his father would forever be imprinted on the man¡¯s eyes. A deer carcass hit the muddy ground instantly as the man leaped forward, hands outstretched as the man fought against the mud beneath him. His feet slipped, all of the man¡¯s strength forced into his legs as he fought to get the last few handful of inches to his son¡¯s outstretched arms. The glasses placed precariously on his nose slipped, tumbling off into the mud but the man didn¡¯t care. He only saw his son, his eyes following the boy¡¯s descent as the subway tile below the pair of feet he was grasping for finally collapsed sending the scrawny kid into the darkness. Chapter Two: The Gloom Alexander threw out his arms, fingers scrambling for any kind of hold as he sank into the darkness. He heard the rubble below him clatter against the ground before he hit it himself. The boy letting out a muffled shriek as his ankle bent harshly against the ground. Swinging a grimy arm to his mouth he bit into the fabric, nostrils flaring as the pain began to ebb and flow. The fall hadn¡¯t been a long one, barely a dozen feet from the ceiling to the ruined tracks he now saw, but his right leg had taken the brunt of the damage. The light filtering through the small hole above him was faint, barely illuminating the tunnel surrounding Alexander. He could see the glimmering metal of the tracks, bending and curving away some distance in front of him, but that was the only detail he could pick out against the smooth brick face of the tunnel. A rain of debris settled against the boy¡¯s dark hair, drawing his eyes upwards. Alexander was panicking. Even if he struggled to keep it contained, his father could easily see emotion straining his son¡¯s face. The smile that seemed frozen to Alexander¡¯s mouth was quivering, the edges of his mouth fighting against the mask he was putting up. Doctor Pisk watched as his son clambered to pull his rifle into a better position, the boy dropping the small package of meat on his shoulders as he did so. Eyes that normally stood steady even at the worst of times twitched rapidly on Alexander¡¯s face, watching for any signs of movements as he waved the rifle, any signs of movement prompting the gun to waver in that direction. ¡°Alexander,¡± Doctor Pisk whispered, his voice strangely calm as he regarded the panicking boy. Though his heart beat rapidly within his chest, he adopted the same persona he¡¯d been forced to when dealing with patients years ago. The doctors voice was calm, his practised touch forcing all emotions from it, pushing his own feelings to the side. ¡°I need you to calm down. If they haven¡¯t heard or seen you by now, they won¡¯t for some time.¡± Alexander¡¯s blue eyes peered upwards, breaking the stare down with which he addressed the rest of the tunnel, only to shake his head. His father, while right, hadn¡¯t seen what he had seen in the gloom. He hadn¡¯t seen the shambling figure stumbling deeper into the darkness, breaking from any hint of the light the first chance it had gotten. Alexander had seen it, and if he had, he was sure it had seen him too. Why it hadn¡¯t leapt at him immediately, the boy didn¡¯t know, but he could only guess. And each of his guesses just led to the boy becoming more and more panicked as time went on. ¡°Alex,¡± his father¡¯s voice slid downwards once again, his voice harsher, adopting a commanding tone that was rarely used in their family, ¡°I need you to see if you can climb up here.¡± Alexander was already ahead of his father in that regard, his first seconds spent in the tunnel had been searching for a way to do just that. The smooth curved roof of the subway made doing so impossible, and again the boy just shook his head. Voice cracking he jabbed his rifle in the direction of one wall, point wavering before he once again levelled in in the direction of the movement he had seen, ¡°Can¡¯t do that Pa.¡± Doctor Pisk felt his heart surge in his throat, his half blinded eyes now peering into what he could see in the gloom. Swearing under his breath, he knew he had been forced into making a choice. His heart urged him to join his son, to drop down into the gloom, the pair working together to get the both of them out. That was the choice the man wanted to make, but his mind still dwelled on the other all the same. Every instinct in his bones screamed at him to join his son¡¯s side, a father¡¯s courage rushing through his bones. But there was another side to the man above, one that had made his survival in the world more than just a fluke. Ultimately Doctor Pisk was a logical man, something he prided himself upon when those around him devolved to a level barely above an animal. In this moment that side of him was pestering him to get a move on, for no matter how much love and pity he held for his son below him, he knew the decision that would best salvage this turn of events. He knew what was best, for the both of them. One bullet for the boy, allowing him to have a swift end, while his father continued on to the village. If only they had an hour or two before dark, he¡¯d have thought of another way, but as the sun sank quickly above him, he knew they both only had a few moments to spare. Dropping into the tunnel would only endanger them both, and while the Doctor was a good shot, his presence would only raise their chances of survival a slim margin. He had a wife and another child waiting for him and the deer carcass deposited behind him. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time the man abandoned another who needed him, and it surely wouldn¡¯t be the last. All of those thoughts raced through the Doctor¡¯s mind, and Alexander saw the change to his father¡¯s face. The young boy had arrived to the same conclusion, the two of them knew the rules of the wastes. Your own survival was what you were worried about. If you did anything else, you put yourself in danger. The man above him had more riding on his back than the boy did, and they both knew it. Alexander would just be another life lost to the death that surrounded them, his father¡¯s passing would mean three. But his father faltered, and Alexander could see the emotions that raced through the face above him. The boys mouth formed a thin line as he gestured upwards, ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking dare.¡± His finger pointed accusingly at the Doctor¡¯s face paling in the reddish light, ¡°She needs you.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The Doctor¡¯s grimace grew, the face disappearing for a moment, a faint shuffling disturbing the stillness of the tunnel as movement above caused small rivers of dust to fill the air. Alexander resumed his watch, gun at the ready, hoping his father had made the right choice. He hoped those noises were the sounds of a man pulling the deer back onto his shoulders, and continuing down the path. Alexander had never been more disappointed to see that his father¡¯s love for him outweighed the rules that governed their lives. For as soon as the shuffling stopped, prompting the boy to gaze upwards, his face met that of a man who had made his choice. Golden frames now back on the Doctor¡¯s nose, the boy saw the emotion written on the man¡¯s face. His father was coming to save him. The Doctor¡¯s face was steely, mouth held in the faintest of smiles as the man accepted his fate. Though the part of his brain that had allowed him to live this long in the destruction around them was currently screaming at him, he ignored it. His love for his son trumped that, his protective instincts at seeing the panicking child drove the normally collected man into a frenzy of activity. Alexander hated this side of his father more than anything. It was the same side that drove him to collect flowers, or hesitate when taking aim at doe. Though the Doctor¡¯s conception of himself was of a logical and cold man, his son knew differently. Ultimately at the man¡¯s core, he was soft. Doctor Pisk cared for others, he loved all that was living, and saw the faintest glimmers of hope in a world devoid of anything resembling such. It was why the man had signed up to be a doctor in the first place, and why he was currently grabbing at the edge to lower himself into the dark. The fool probably thought he¡¯d be able to save his son, if he just joined him in the gloom. Swinging his rifle Alexander took in a sharp breath, holding for a moment before a crack and a flash illuminated the air around him. A bullet whizzed by the Doctor¡¯s fingers, his crawling form pausing just before he had swung his leg over the edge. ¡°Don¡¯t. You. Fucking. Dare. Don¡¯t come down here,¡± Alexander growled, taking aim once again at the face that flickered into his view. Though the boy deluded himself, he was more similar to the father he was growing to despise than he could admit. The boy thought he was making the tough choice, sacrificing himself for the lives of others. Alexander mumbled under his breath, reciting the rules his father had taught him, but he wasn¡¯t thinking of them. The young boy¡¯s thoughts were filled with his mother¡¯s face, his mind¡¯s eye convinced what his father was about to do would be tantamount to murder. If the man joined Alexander¡¯s side, his mother would die. His sister would die. His father would have sentenced the two people the boy cared most about to death. And though it most likely meant Alexander¡¯s own demise, he would lay down his life for those two in a heartbeat. Drips of water began to run down the boy¡¯s cheeks, darkening with the grime as they dripped from his chin. Raising his arm he wiped away at his cheeks, black hoodie slowly growing damp as he gazed up at the man. Slowly Alexander¡¯s face turned from one of a fearful young child, into that of stone. His eyes hard, glaring through the damp tears that strained them, ¡°I can do this. I don¡¯t need you.¡± Alexander¡¯s voice quivered, obviously faltering under his own conviction, ¡°You-you¡¯ll kill them too. Don¡¯t leave them. You and I both know if you come down here we both die.¡± Doctor Pisk gazed at his son, his own eyes filling with tears, though he didn¡¯t attempt to cover them up like the boy had. Shuffling for a moment, he didn¡¯t say anything, just gazing at his son below him. ¡°Don¡¯t make me do-¡°, he paused, the wavering rifle once again steadying at his own face. Alexander had made the Doctor¡¯s choice for him. Frustrated with the stubborn face below him, the man shot the boy a worried look, the Doctor¡¯s fingers shaking as the he worked for a moment. He slowly stood upon shaking legs, arching his back to peer into the hole as he did so. Despite the sorrow that tore at the father¡¯s chest, he felt a swell of pride. The man hoped he¡¯d have made the same decision. ¡°You got any suggestions for a side?¡± Doctor Pisk asked suddenly, forcing himself to break the somber mood, making sure to smile at his son, as the doctor¡¯s hand gestured at the discarded deer flesh at the boy¡¯s feet. ¡°Mom was able to get a few of those potatoes from the trader right?¡± Alexander replied, taking the change in tone in stride, shifting his aim back to the tunnel now that his father had dropped that stupid look on his face, ¡°Think that¡¯d go well?¡± The man smiled, clambering to his feet, gaze locked to his child, ¡°No, whatever those were, they ain¡¯t potatoes. Those ain¡¯t supposed to be blue. But she did give the man a free look at his engine so it was literally the least he could do. Make sure you get home before Macy eats them all.¡± ¡°Will do Pa,¡± the boy grinned, his pale blue eyes flickering to his father¡¯s. Alexander held the man¡¯s gaze, before both of them nodded. The man shuffled off, leaving the boy alone in the dark. Doctor Pisk¡¯s bad habits had flared again, and seeing the determined look on his son¡¯s face, he felt a flicker of hope bloom in his chest. If anyone could survive a situation like this it was his son. The boy that had been panicking minutes before had steadied himself almost immediately. The man knew his son would make his way back to him, he had too. Doctor Pisk could only live with himself if that was the case. His paternal instincts tore at his very being, urging him to leap into the hole after his boy but Doctor Pisk turned away, listening to the voice that had allowed him to make something out of himself in the wastes. The same voice that had allowed him to turn away patients in the past, to save another. The voice of cold logic. The Doctor held onto his hope that his boy would survive to come back to him. The boy in question had no such delusions, he had made his peace when he had decided to force his father to put himself above the boy. Steeling himself, Alexander waited for the sounds of his father to fade completely before limping forwards. His wounded ankle shaking as he put weight onto it, he began to move deeper into the tunnel. Away from the shuffling noises he had begun to hear gathering in the other direction. Away from the fading light above him, and farther from the father he had forced to abandon him. Two humans parted ways, one with a thin grin and eyes adjusting to the darkness that crept around him, the other with tears streaming down his face and shaking with every step he took. Chapter Three: The Rail Alexander¡¯s leg was only growing worse as he forced it to support him. Every step he took made pain flare up in the now swollen ankle joint, and though he was trying to keep his weight off of it there was only so much he could do in the pitch black tunnel. Every step the young boy took was a gamble, for though the tunnel was strangely clear of the rubble that dominated the surface it was not completely spared the devastation that had buried it. The smooth metal of the rail had already tripped him half a dozen times in the dark before he had learned to stick to one side, his right hand guiding him by running along the wall beside him. If Alexander made a noise above the barest of whispers he knew the creatures behind him take notice. They had been silent for the past few minutes, the shuffling noise that had been following him for some time suddenly dropping off. He wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good or a bad sign, but the fact that he was still alive spoke volumes to the current strategy he was adopting. Though the boy tried to keep his mind from going there, the cloying darkness around him seemed to invade his mind. It conjured memories that flickered across his eyes, painting themselves onto the black canvas that was his world now. The way the mutants killed seemed to never follow a pattern. Some corpses were found devoid of all fluid, just dried and mummified men and women left to waste away in the harsh sunlight. Others were torn to shreds, eaten haphazardly but seemingly toyed with as many times you could find body parts scattered seemingly as far as possible. Still more simply disappeared without a trace, the only evidence of their violent ends being the bullet cases they left behind. Whatever the state of the bodies left behind one fact remained, if you managed to get yourself caught by the beasts you would not be living much longer. Alexander had been raised on a steady diet of fear and loathing for the former humans, as both his parents regaled him with their own stories. His father had shown him the scars along the man¡¯s arms that he claimed the blood of one creature caused, and each of Alexander¡¯s parents made sure to drill into the young boy¡¯s mind the reality of the world they now lived in. Friends, lovers, and relatives had all been lost to the creatures, and seemingly each of those examples had lessons to teach. The morals they instilled in the boy had been simple ones, rules and tools of survival that he put to the test every second he spent outside of the walls. The first lesson, and the most difficult for the boy to enact in the dark tunnel, was the need to be avoid the creature¡¯s attention as much as possible. Every muffled yelp of pain could alert some heightened sense, turning a distracted beast into a frenzied one in a moment. Not that smell or sight didn¡¯t play a part, more often than not they did, but the boy was operating off the here and now. Because he still lived, because the heart within his chest still pumped blood into the staggering limbs he travelled with, he had convinced himself that whatever pursued him did so based on the noises the boy had made. Alexander bought into that theory with all the faint hope he could muster, and made sure to keep every movement of his feet silent. He kept himself focused on every step that he took, heart swelling whenever his movement did not prompt a response from the other life form. Every step he took was a step towards salvation. Every limping shuffle brought him towards something he could use to save himself. Alexander faintly remembered the layout of the buildings above him, and though the actual location of the tunnel was a task he wasn¡¯t equipped to solve, he knew there had to be an exit somewhere. After all the beasts that inhabited the darkness below seemed to find their way into the night without hassle, and he and his father had even hunted at a few of the openings from time to time. Though prey was never abundant around them, as the mutants¡¯ voracious appetite didn¡¯t discriminate, one could always get lucky. Though anything edible was never left behind, every so often you¡¯d find something that made it worth it. A torn jacket that could easily be repaired, a small package of bullets, anything that humans could find a use for but the mutants could not immediately feast upon would be left scattered at the sites of their attacks or at the entrances to their lairs. It was because of these frequent trips that Alexander knew the closest exit had to be nearby. His father had mapped them out some time ago, and though the boy only had rough memories of the crude map he was sure he¡¯d stumble upon an exit soon. Step by step the boy drew closer to his salvation, silent except for the occasional puff of his breath, only for that breath to stop sharply. He had heard something, and in a panic he retraced his steps from a moment before. His mind filtered through every action he had taken, noting anything he had done differently. Any sign that he had alerted the creature once again of his movement. He was panicked not because the creature had revealed itself again, he assumed it would have eventually followed him down the tunnel. No matter how quiet he was, the beast knew he was down here. It¡¯d follow him, hunting, until it managed to catch him. The noise he had heard had been different, both in volume, and direction. The sound had been barely above a whisper, and if he had not been hyper aware of his own breathing he wouldn¡¯t have noticed it. Inches above his own head, muffled by the hood that covered his ears, he had heard a single rasping breath. Caught just as he had begun moving again, attempting to be masked underneath the tiniest of noises his boots had made. Alexander realized he had made a fatal error the instant he had adopted his earlier strategy. He had assumed something about the mutant, something that his father had always warned him not to do. Rules had their place, generalizations saved lives more often than not, but when dealing with mutants almost everything had to be tossed out. He had forgotten a simple fact about the creature that had potentially doomed him. It didn¡¯t attack the moment he had fallen into the tunnel. Alexander had seen it, even noted it¡¯s presence with a wave of his gun, and it hadn¡¯t immediately dashed towards him. It had paused, and moved away, slinking into the darkness to avoid a shot that it knew would come. It had recognized the weapon he held, and chose to wait. That was something a mere beast could not do, that took patience and foresight, and though he had never known a mutant to possess those aspects the very nature of the beasts made it possible. All rules went out the window when the enemy you faced was a freakish creature born from radiation and pain.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Alexander had assumed the beast in the tunnel didn¡¯t have the mental capacity to truly hunt him. To tire him, to plan and to find the perfect moment to strike without putting itself into any undue danger. He expected it to act like a rabid wolf, and it had acted like a human instead. The scrawny child leapt into motion immediately, raising the weapon he held to angle it towards the ceiling. He aimed in the direction of the noise he had heard, only to feel the weapon smack against something. Instantly his finger squeezed the trigger, a bang ringing out as a bullet whizzed into the darkness. Alexander shrieked, his voice expressing the fear that gripped his mind as his thoughts caught up to what he had seen in the faint light of the gun shot. Inches from his own face was another. Ghoulish, grey, with skin tight to the skull underneath the creature had one hand gripped into the stone of the ceiling. The other had wound itself tight around the weapon in his hand. That was bad, for he now knew what had stopped his aim in the first place, but the expression he had seen on the beasts face was worse. Sharp, jagged teeth had been bare to the air around them, red lips exposing them in a wide freakish smile. Black and cunning eyes peered out of thin strands of brown hair, the nose that ruined the face more bat like than human. Pointed ears spread out, filling the air on either side of the sickening face, drooping skin making them seem that much larger to the boys frantic eyes. They were plunged into darkness an instant later, and Alexander felt his heart stop. He could feel every thrum of the blood in his veins, his eyes once again blind to the horror he now knew was inches from him. Suddenly the creature yanked on the gun in its grasp, pulling at the boy¡¯s shoulder harshly, another shriek echoing around the dark tunnels quickly followed by another shot. This too missed, and the arm of the mutant forced the muzzle some distance from it before Alexander could even register completely what it was up to. ¡°Hooman!¡± the creature jeered, the hunger in its voice easily read by the boy. Hearing it talk was too much, the voice was sharp, twisted and a mockery of any sort of human language. It over annunciated the consonants, and Alexander swore he could her the teeth in its mouth click with every movement of those twisted lips. Screaming the boy fell, yanking back on the gun with all of his strength, pulling it downwards with both his body weight and all of the panicked muscle he could bring to bear. Alexander could feel the slight give as the creature struggled to keep a hold of the weapon, and that was all the boy needed. Feeling his back hit the hard ground beneath him, he squeezed the trigger once again. What had once been a teasing horrendous grin, had devolved to an angry scowl as the light flashed the room visible once again. Growling like a mad animal, the beast dropped downwards releasing its grip on the ceiling above the boy with a scraping noise. Alexander felt the ground thump against his back as the much larger creature slammed its feet downwards. One foot slammed into the ground followed by the other onto his wounded ankle, prompting another pained yelp from the boy. All pretences of being silent were thrown away as both the creature and Alexander screamed at each other. The beast¡¯s was filled with malice and anger, high pitched and shrill, flecking spittle downwards. Alexander¡¯s was instinctual, his fight or flight response kicking in confusingly with a voice cracking war cry. Another shot went wide, singing against the stone walls as the boy yanked at the gun once again. Alexander was trying to keep track of his shots, trying to count them and save the limited amount of ammunition he had left in the magazine. Something told him that the beast currently slashing at him with the same hand that had buried itself into stone wasn¡¯t about to let him reload, and every bullet he wasted on the stone walls was one more chance of survival thrown away. Scrambling he fought to free his trapped wounded ankle, the mutants weight pressing down the moment it sensed movement, clawed fingers slashing at the boy. Two inch claws sliced into the thin fabric of Alexander¡¯s hoodie, digging into the flesh underneath without pause, the wounds they left in his defending arm already oozing copious amounts of blood. Reacting instantly Alexander tugged at the rifle again, kicking out with his free leg and slamming the limb into whatever he could reach of the beast. The tough leather boot connected against something in the dark, forcing the leg off his own and causing the creature to lean back slightly. The slight movement was enough for Alexander to capitalise on, lifting himself and yanking back with all of his strength once again. For the briefest of moments the rifle was free, and both beings in the tunnel knew it. Instead of attempting to grab at the weapon again, the mutant decided to simply end the encounter, once again slashing at the boy. It aimed for his neck, its wide arch of attack digging the fingers into the ground and it took the swing. The bloodied claws dug through anything in their way on their approach to the boy, picking up dirt and pebbles and flinging them forward. Alexander heard the claws coming, and knew he had limited time. He could hear every inch of dirt they passed through on their trajectory towards his face. He didn¡¯t have time to dodge, the creature still stood over top of him, crouched low, and any movement to either side would just bring the boy against one of the looming limbs. Silently he aimed the now free weapon, moments passing as he held his breath. Alexander heard a shriek of claws against metal as the beast slowed imperceptibly as its attack passed through the rail, and the boy took his shot. One loud bang rang out, filling the tunnel with noise once again, only for another to quickly follow. Moments later Alexander felt a gentle rhythm tap against him as blood began to drop from somewhere above him, dropping to mix with his own, hoodie staining rapidly as the second ticked by. The beast shuddered once, the muscles in its arms tensing and dragging the claws ever closer to his face for another second, before it collapsed, weight slamming into the boy and trapping him against the floor. Alexander felt the life leave the creature as it gurgled against him, its last breath a forced and hateful one, sharp teeth inches from his ear. Huffing his breath rapidly, Alexander attempted to shove the beast off of him, but his now ragged arm could only shift it slightly. Pain tore through him and it took another pained scream before the boy could shift the beast enough to wriggle his way free from its weight. Cradling one arm against his chest, he knelt, fingers tapping against the stone ground until he found his rifle once again. With shaking legs he stood, injured ankle now unable to take any of his weight without agony ringing through his system, and began limping once again. He had to keep moving. He had to continue forwards, into the darkness. He had to ignore the pair of eyes he had seen in the distance on that last shot, just as he hoped they¡¯d ignore him. Chapter Four: Yellow Ducks Alexander didn¡¯t know how much longer he would be able to move. Every step he took seemed to just leach what was left of his strength and soon his own weight would be too much for him to support. His breaths were ragged and short and his heart seemed to struggle to fuel his body. Every attempt he made to place his injured ankle against the ground was met with an agonizing sensation running up his leg. Moving even a few metres from the ghoulish body took double the time it should have, and the pace he was setting was only getting worse. Alexander kept his ruined arm slung and clasped close to his body and though the bleeding had slowed to the barest of trickles he knew it was a ticking time bomb. He had done what he could, tightening the fabric with a scrap he tore from the white t-shirt he wore underneath his hoodie, but that could only do so much. The boy had been taught enough by his father to know the deep wounds would need stitches, and he doubted the mutant behind him would allow him to bring out the thin twine he kept on hand. With both his arm and ankle injured it was a wonder he could move at all, and the effort it took to barely scrape by was quite visible. What had once been neatly combed hair lay in slicked strands, sweat caking them just as it ran off his skin. The hair obscured his vision, brown locks wavering with every shake in front of his eyes. If had the energy to spare he would have pulled them back, tugged them behind one ear, but as tired as he was he was forced to deal with the minor annoyance. If he lifted his hand from the wall he feared he¡¯d never find it again. Some illogical instinct of his took solace in the cool stone, the solid nature of it giving him both guidance and support as he struggled to keep himself motivated. Alexander wasn¡¯t stupid, he knew how screwed he was. He could hear the crunching noises behind him, as one mutant dined on the remains of another. He knew that once that meager morsel ran out, the beast would simply catch up to him. Every crunch of teeth on bone met his ears as if he was still trapped beneath the body, the sickening slurping noises as every scrap was brought within whatever the mutant considered its mouth. It was those noises that the boy had even managed to travel this far and each one gave him a reason to not pause. Giving up, even resting for a moment, brought him seconds closer to being just another meal for the creature. His flesh and bones were next, and some hateful spirit within him wanted to spite the beast, make it work for his body as much as possible. If it wanted to eat him, it¡¯d have to travel another step further, another small distance in the tunnel. As the tunnel curved before him, he finally saw the first glimmers of the goal he had sought since falling into the maze that surrounded him. In the distance he could see thin strands of light, the last dying signs of the fading sun above. The strands were thin but they were a beacon to the boy, fueling him with a strength he doubted he could muster any other way. What had once been a slow, ponderous and pained trundle deeper into the darkness became once again frantic. Every hop came quicker than the others despite how much it taxed his now screaming muscles, a smile lighting up the boy¡¯s face. The grin didn¡¯t fade even as he stumbled, scraping his clasping hand on the wall by his side, sunlight reflecting in the blue pools on his face. The boy was never one to show his emotions much but he couldn¡¯t help himself as he finally stumbled onto the former platform. A screaming laugh filled the empty chamber, the high pitched noise sending scurrying rodents to their holes. Alexander felt and acted like a madman as he felt the warmth of the sun sink into his body. The sight sent his joy soaring to new limits. For what had seemed like hours he had been trapped underground kept away from all the light and hope of the surface. He had never thought he¡¯d see or feel that warmth ever again but now he couldn¡¯t imagine anything else. It was a glorious sensation and he couldn¡¯t help but laugh aloud and express it. All this noise seemed to annoy the beast deeper in the tunnels, that or it had finished its meal, and the boy heard it howl. A bestial noise that echoed and clamored around him but seemed to be drowned out by his joy. Even a potential threat sprinting towards him didn¡¯t sour his mood. Stumbling ever forwards he fought to get closer to the hole in the wall that had brought the sunlight deep within the platform. Though much of the cement and tile structure had been spared, the entrance to the tunnel bore scars of earlier weapons. Bricks and scraps of metal were scattered about, and the cracks around the hole indicated something large had broken through at one time. Whether it had been a type of vehicle or merely a large creature the steep incline it had left led directly to the surface. Alexander huffed, making sure to bring as much cool and clean air into his lungs as possible. Every gasp was tinged with the foul tasting contaminants of the green fog that seemed to flow everywhere, but to Alexander it was the best tasting thing he had ever experienced. Hearing a hissing and scraping noise he turned to face the low tunnel he had just exited. Low set eyes peered at him from the dark as a growl echoed around the small space. The beast had finally finished its meal, and in his celebration he hadn¡¯t heard it catch up to him. The creature he saw in many way differed to the one he had just killed. Though surely it had been human at one point it had lost almost all of the distinguishing characteristics. Its body was pale and naked, skin hanging in loose flaps along its side and limbs. The former hands it used to climb onto the platform were stubby with short claws, and the feet that followed were not much different. It looked like a creature used to clambering about on all fours, and as it began to lope towards the boy his suspicions were confirmed. Pink froth escaped its mouth, remnants of its recent meal, and dripped down onto the crumbling floor. Looking into the black eyes that peered at him, the boy saw no signs of intelligence, no malice or anger, just unceasing hunger. This was a type of mutant he was more accustomed too. It was barely above a beast, and though it looked and seemed dangerous it was something he could probably out smart. Under the ideal circumstances he would have had time to set up a trap, or simply figure out a way to hide from the beast. Most creatures you found out in the wastes lacked simple things that humans had in spades. Patience was one of them. If you climbed high enough, or made your tasty insides similarly unavailable most simply lost interest. They¡¯d stay nearby, watching and snarling, but they would wander away eventually. He wasn¡¯t sure that would work against the strange one he had just fought but the one currently bearing down on him was a different case. Alexander¡¯s scrambling picked up speed until he eventually found himself at the surface. Finally brushing the hair from his eyes he looked about gasping for air even as he planned his next move. Alexander didn¡¯t have a lot of time, but he knew he had at least a handful of moments. The creature below would avoid the setting sun for some time as the harsh rays would burn it, but that wouldn¡¯t last forever. Mutants only avoided the sun because it hurt them, and though that pain would deter the freak scrambling at the tunnel for some while it wouldn¡¯t last forever. It had his scent, the scent of a meal, and Alexander knew it would pursue him through unimaginable pain to attain his flesh now. It would eventually become stubborn enough to fight through the sun that lashed at it, but it gave him enough time to catch his breath.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Alexander¡¯s eyes peered through the fog around him, gazing into the vaguely hazy shapes and attempting to identify them. He was looking for some place to hold up in, to reload his gun while he waited in relative comfort. Stopping to do so now was a horrible idea. He couldn¡¯t use his bleeding arm to help cradle the weapon while he loaded shot into it, he needed a place to sit. He could have crouched and done so where he currently stood, but judging by the scraping noises behind him the boy could tell the beast was already squeezing into the crack he had fled by. Eventually he spotted a suitable location. While the hollowed out shell of a car could only protect him as long as the beast below forgot it could clamber through the smashed windows it should be able to buy him some much needed time. Making his decision the boy instantly launched into motion. His foot kicked up small clods of mud as he began hopping once more. He reached and entered the shell just as the mutant reached the surface, and both regarded each other silently. Two sets of eyes glared at each other, one black as the night and squinting in the harsh light, the other a deep blue. Alexander should have watched what his hand was doing as he began to load the rifle, but he also knew that he had practiced the motion a million times. If Alexander screwed up the reload now he¡¯d never let himself live it down. He had slipped bullets into the rifle his underarm now cradled since he had been a child. He had been raised carrying this weapon and every day he spent with his father he had cleaned and used it. It was like another part of his body, another limb. He hefted the gun to the console of the car that now served as his current shelter. He and the beast continued to watch each other. Until one finally broke through the searing pain that lashed it and charged at the vehicle. The mutant moved with a grace the boy would never be able to replicate. A brain that had once been human and had once held emotions other than hunger was now devoted to feasting upon the flesh of its cousins. Sections of that brain that had been dedicated towards loving another now moved limbs. Gone were the memories of a childhood lost to nuclear fire. It was a beast of pure evolution, suited to the wastes and to its task of hunting humans perfectly. Each limb it slammed into the ground perfectly ramped up its motion, bringing it from a loping jog to a full on sprint as it slammed against the metal of the shell that protected the boy. Yanking himself backwards, Alexander could feel the entire body of the car shift below him, only to slam back down as the creature scrambled onto the hood. Short claws tore at the metal as it dragged its way forwards, a mouth full of serrated teeth making its intentions clear. Alexander waited silently, holding his breath and his final motions until he was sure they would be effective. Lowering its head the creature peered into the window, thrusting forwards once again with all its strength as it finally found the access to the boy it had fought hard for. The boy took that as his signal and lifted the muzzle of his rifle off the dashboard as against the beasts now exposed stomach, placing the butt of the gun against his stomach. Alexander fired once into the mass ahead of him, gore splashing out and coating him and the wheel he had used as cover. He fired again a moment later his eyes peering into the beasts as he saw a shudder run through it. It snapped at him, gnashing teeth inches from his face, and for a second the boy could almost see pain in its dark eyes. For a moment he could see the human behind it, the tortured screaming of a mind trapped in a beast¡¯s body. Suddenly filled with an anger he couldn¡¯t comprehend the boy fired again, a fierce yelling meeting the muted thump. Alexander stared into eyes that would have killed him in a heartbeat and lost himself in a rage he hadn¡¯t been prepared for. That this beast even dared to attack him, that it had scared and worried him so, all of his feelings came out in the scream that tore at his chest. He had almost died in those fucking tunnels. And now the boy was face to face with a creature that would have gladly eaten him in the dark. The joy at seeing the sun had sickened into a twisted anger. This beast would have deprived him of this, of the light that still warmed him. It would have dashed his hope without a second thought and it wouldn¡¯t have even spared a moment to gaze into his eyes like he had. It wouldn¡¯t feel sorry for the person behind them, it wouldn¡¯t have cared for the boy he had once been, but try as he might Alexander could not forget those things. The scraps of children¡¯s clothing that hung off the tortured frame was enough to make the rage consume him all the more. He hadn¡¯t seen them as he had been chased, or even as it had scrambled onto the hood of the car. They were so incredibly small, but now that the gnashing teeth were inches from him, the heat rolling of the body as close as it could possibly be, he could see the frayed fragments peeling off the limbs tearing at the air around him. Little yellow ducks, printed on a blue pattern and wrapped around one limb, belonged to pajamas that had long left the rest of the body. Thoughts of his own sister now fueled every shot that Alexander drove into the creature above him. Alexander knew that what had happened to this beast could have easily happened to him or Macy. Not every child was able to live through the fog like he could. Not every baby that was born grew into a human. Some devolved into the slathering beast he was now screaming at. Gnashing his teeth he shoved his gun forwards, shoving the now wounded beast back onto the hood. Weakly scrabbling it tried to keep itself upright, only to slide off the cool metal and into the muck below. Alexander followed it, hobbling from the destroyed vehicle, his mouth a grim line as he lowered his rifle again. He had already wasted enough bullets on the creature. The dark red blood that pooled and mixed with the muddy ground was more than the boy knew it could survive without. Another shot rang out in the silent ruins, silencing the frantic cries the beast was now producing instantly. When the rage cooled all that was left behind was a cold landscape. The sun could only warm him so much as he gazed at the body below him. He couldn¡¯t tear his eyes away from the blue fabric. Shaking he stumbled backwards and began to lean against the now torn up hood. Taking a deep breath, and then another, the boy forced himself to calm down. It was hardly the first mutant he had killed, and it would surely not the last. He knew this. He knew what they were, but something about the beast had bothered him. Whether it had been the pain he could sense in its eyes as he shot it, or just the remnants of the fear that clung to him in those dark tunnels, the image of those damn ducks burned themselves into his mind. Steeling himself he let out a gruff noise, and gave the side of his head a whack. ¡°Fucking blood loss,¡± Alexander grumbled, his hand wavering before he let it drop to his side again. He was getting loopy, and with his wounds it would only be getting worse from this point on. Dragging himself to his one good foot again he hopped forwards once again. Alexander didn¡¯t glance at the beast again, he refused to, as he began to hop his way towards the setting sun. Chapter Five: Hate Moving was even harder for Alexander now. Though he had survived his second encounter with a mutant today the two had definitely taken their toll. He was tired and pained both mentally and physically. His wounds continued to pain him with every movement he made and the inner strength he had relied on earlier was slowly being ebbed away as well. Little droplets of blood trailed him as he moved, soaking into the ground at his feet with every stumbling step he took. Alexander knew that trail would guide more mutants towards him. He knew that when the sun truly sank beneath the horizon his borrowed time would run out. The boy didn¡¯t have a shelter he could hide out in, nor would the car trick he had just used work for very long. Sooner or later he would make a mistake, or simply run out of ammunition. He would be torn to shreds and feasted upon before he could run even a few steps in the dark. The only way humans survived in the wasteland was to hide when night arrived. Walls were the only true protection as they simply prevented the mutants from getting close to you. No matter how lucky you were, without walls you were a sitting duck. Alexander knew that his two encounters had already weakened him past the point to arriving to any settlement he knew of. His home, and the village that surrounded it, was more than an hour away and the light dimming around him told him he didn¡¯t have that sort of time. The tunnels beneath his feet had led him on a winding trail deeper into the city that now loomed around him. Not all of the buildings were destroyed but all showed signs of the weapons that had torn the world apart. Glass lined the streets in shimmering piles, shattered windows lay open like gaping mouths. He knew that deep within the standing structures their inhabitants would already be awake. Alexander knew that soon glimmering eyes would peer at him from their depths and he would be truly doomed. He recognized a few bent and tattered street signs and could pinpoint himself on the mental map he had been forced to memorize. Alexander knew the streets that would take him straight home, which were clogged with rubble and which had been cleared in the years before. He knew the exact route he needed to take home but because of that he also knew how hopeless it was. He could visualize every step he needed to take, every turn that would lead him to salvation but knew his body would never be able to make it. Even if he had been perfectly healthy it would have been touch and go. He would have had to sprint almost the entire distance over uneven ground and even then he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d be able to make it. With one almost ruined leg and the amount of blood loss he was currently dealing with he would struggle to even make a quarter of the way. Still he hopped in that direction wracking his brains with all of his energy every time he stopped. Alexander dredged up every distant memory, every small lesson his father taught him, trying to find a way out of this situation. He was searching for a safe spot or anything that would prolong his life even fractionally. He filtered the various camps he and his fathered had discovered, remnants from the earliest days of the apocalypse. Places where a small group of humans had survived for some time. Most of these places had been long abandoned but every so often they showed signs of recent habitation. Most of those signs were bad ones, blood stains or claw marks that hinted at what had happened to these lone people, but some seemed to be strangely left alone. Oasis in the scarred landscape. How they survived Alexander and his father never understood, but that question didn¡¯t bother the boy now. If they lived he could as well. It didn¡¯t matter to him that he had never met one of these lonely souls and had only seen the rare hints of their existence, it simply gave him a glimmer of hope. Still no matter how much his worried mind worked he could not remember the location of a single one. The haze surrounding his vision didn¡¯t help. It had already begun to seep into his thought process leading the boy on tangents that didn¡¯t achieve anything meaningful. Questions he needed to ignore drew his thoughts away, tempting him to dally and daydream. He felt cold and weary, and the state of his mind tempted him to just relax. To sit himself down somewhere comfortable and just wait. More than just a small portion of his mind was tempted by that idea. To just give up, to drop where he stood and not to exert any more energy on the fruitless pursuit of survival. Alexander knew that even if he dropped here his parents would have still been proud of him. He had survived situations that should have killed him multiple times, and somehow he was still stumbling onwards. If he truly wanted to spare himself he would have turned the rifle towards his head at that point. Though no one knew how an individual mutant would kill their victims, pretty much everyone agreed that it did not look painless. His last moments were likely to be painful and though ending his own life now would forever snuff out any hope it would spare him the much more likely end. Shaking his head violently the boy pushed those thoughts away. ¡°No,¡± he growled to himself lifting his eyes for a moment as he took another shaking hop. The flame that had carried him this far refused to die. It wasn¡¯t a thirst for life, nor was it a fear of what came afterwards. It wasn¡¯t that the hope of survival refused to let the boy take his own life. No it was a burning flame deep is his psyche that flared whenever he thought of the beasts. Something that drained the pity from his mind, allowing him to take shots at what he knew had once been human. Hatred. Hatred and spite now drove the boy onwards, every step proof of the emotion burning in Alexander¡¯s soul. Alexander simply refused to give a mutant an easy meal. Even if it spared him some torturous ending. He refused to die almost on principle alone. He wanted to make every mutant¡¯s life as difficult and hellish as possible, just as they had done to him. The current state of the boy burned away all the trimmings to his personality. The bright if not quiet boy was stripped down to his very core. What he found formed the central part of his existence was something he didn¡¯t expect. When loyalty to his family faltered, the hate was still there. When his own worries for his survival could no longer lift his stumbling feet, hate was there to guide him. When he stumbled and fell to the earth, it wasn¡¯t love, or joy, or hope, or anything that he had clung onto previously. It was a deep, black, and unending ocean of hate. He hated the world he had been born into, he hated the creatures that crawled upon it and made him struggle just to eat. He hated the air that made his father cough, he hated the other humans that nipped and harried his family¡¯s heels. He hated that every meal could be his last, he hated that he needed to learn how to shoot before he learned how to read. He hated that every moment he spent scrambling in the rubble was another moment he had to feel pain and discomfort.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. His tired eyes suddenly hardened, the glaze that had been working itself into them suddenly burnt away with a furious energy. Picking up in speed the boy crested one hill only to descend at double the speed. He burnt every last ounce of energy he had left in a mad dash forwards. Pain lashed through his system, every step making him growl and splutter in pain. But he still moved onwards. His soul had been stripped down to its bare components to fuel the fire that now consumed him. He would live. Not to enjoy it, no, he would live just to fuck with the mutants following his blood trail. He wouldn¡¯t die here. He couldn¡¯t die here. The hate that twisted him made sure that the thought never crossed his mind. His eyes focused on every step he forced his feet to make, ignoring the sun disappearing before him. The shadows grew larger and larger until there was nothing else. The wind ripped through his hair as howling calls began to fill up the night around him. All around the boy he could see the beginnings of the mutants awakening, their starved eyes finally peering into the world at large. As the howls picked up in volume, the boy added his to the cacophony. Without even registering it he shuddered to a stop, calling out his wordless challenge to the world. Alexander¡¯s battle cry echoed off the brick walls surrounding him. A pile of rubble carried him upwards, above the bare street level as he gazed at the many creatures gathering in the gloom. His eyes were now half blind, unable to peer into the dark but he could hear them. Humans with too many limbs, clattering and scratching at the earth as they climbed into the view of the stars. He saw movement all around him. Beasts clambered up and down towers of rubble, hoofs, claws, and wings allowing them to traverse the terrain in a way that the boy could not manage. The symphony of noise reached new heights as the mutants sensed the boy in their midst. There were no walls protecting him, no other humans and no lights. He was alone in the dark with them, and that was their home. He was a foreigner, a young child lost at their shores and the hunger in their eyes grew to new heights. A single shot rang out as he levelled his weapon, mouth agape in a challenge as he launched his attack at one creature. The bullet struck it in the shoulder causing it to tumble down the rubble tower it had been clambering over. As if the shot was a signal the rest of the creatures launched themselves into action. Alexander met each set of their eyes as they began to scramble upwards. Mouth splitting into a horrific grin he quickly lost count of all the bodies looming in the dark. There were simply too many to count, and though he began to fire into the mass he knew he simply didn¡¯t have enough bullets. Alexander was going to die. His mind had already accepted this. His body just hadn¡¯t caught up to that yet. Every shot jerked his wounded arm back, shooting pain up his spine. Every shot landed. It was simply impossible to miss. The bodies that clambered over each other to reach him were too closely packed together. Ending the life of their compatriots seemed to only drive the beats ever onwards, the claws scrabbling at speeds human hands could never match. Bodies would tremble and fall only to be trampled. They would feast tonight on both the boy and their own dead. Alexander felt the rifle in his hands buck one last time, the magazine running dry with a bullet that whizzed into a creature¡¯s skull. A moment later they were upon him with scarlet gore covering their bodies. Waving the weapon in his hands he felt it shudder as it cracked into the shoulder of one beast, only for it to be ripped from his hand a second later. He felt one of his fingers crack at the force but any pain melted away a moment later as he felt fury once again grip him. Screaming his challenge he launched himself forwards, using the last weapons he had available to him. Wounds forgotten he slammed his hands into the creatures face, fingers clawing madly at every soft spot he could reach. He felt a clawed hand slash at his back digging into his flesh with a sickening sensation. His hoodie soon was torn to shreds as dozens of frantic fingers fought to sample him, to drag through his flesh and end the life held within. Alexander was past the point of caring. The pain that every wound inflicted seemed to only drive the madness now clasping at him deeper. Red blood splashed into the fog that surrounded them, filling the air with the scent of his life. Alexander lifted one leg to stomp downwards, only to feel one massive fist grab onto what was left of his shirt. For a moment he was free of the mass below, lifted high above the slathering mouths that had been clawing and biting into him. Still kicking Alexander slammed one hard boot against a skull that he could feel crack, adding another body to the count he had long lost track of. It didn¡¯t even matter if the beast got up again, merely causing pain to them was enough now. The hand at his back tightened, clawed fingers slicing through fabric and into his flesh. Letting out a tortured scream he began to flail, trying to twist his neck to see the beast that had a hold of him. Blood dripped from him as he was lifted higher and higher, his limbs dangling limply from him as his consciousness began to ebb. His vision rapidly began to fade, the last of his life blood pooling into gaping mouths below him. Little pools of lights danced in his vision pulling at the edges as his breathing began to slow. The heart that beat in his chest struggled to find its fuel and the cough that wracked his body a moment later didn¡¯t help. He could feel a mix of blood and spittle begin to froth at his mouth, his eyes wide as he gazed upwards at the stars. Higher and higher he was raised, his body lifted ever towards their embrace. Limply he twitched as another cough spluttered in his throat dying before it cleared his air way. Blue eyes met the moving lights once again, reflecting them for a moment in the dark before everything about the boy went limp. Alexander was already unconscious when the vehicle slammed into the mutant holding him. The huge beast clawing the rider from its seat a moment later and dropping the boy to the ground. Chapter Six: Another As Alexander¡¯s body dropped towards the scrambling creatures below him his would be rescuer was torn apart. The same claws that had torn the man from the seat of his motorcycle simply clenched, the massive mutant easily cracking bones and smashing organs. With a sickening noise the man¡¯s life was squeezed from him, though the laugh that escaped from his throat burned the air. The motorcycle he had been riding skidded out of control, its wheels careening and crushing more of the beasts and the metal began to twist and roll. All along its frame spikes and weapons had been welded turning the out of control vehicle into a ball of death. Shredded limbs and piercing cries filled the air as the mutants reacted instinctively. Most simply tore into the man¡¯s corpse, or what they could reach of it, feasting and gorging themselves on whatever scraps the giant had dropped or ignored. But still others turned towards the other bobbing lights, the body of the boy at their feet ignored for a moment as they began to howl. The approaching engines and the men that rode them met the fierce cries with their own challenges, screaming madly as metal and flesh clashed on top of the rubble strewn street. One four wheeled monstrosity toppled almost immediately upon hitting the field of rubble, sending the crew operating it and the people that rode on the hood tumbling into fierce creatures that surrounded them. Again fear had no place in these men, their eyes and voices filled with joy and energy that would have sickened the unconscious boy at their feet immensely. They fought the mutants with a fervor that few could match, blades glistening in headlights already damp with blood as they began to stab and slash at the bodies before them. Their allies cared little for their safety as they joined the fray, vehicle after vehicle slamming into foe and friend alike, sending bodies careening into the sky. Despite the nature of the attack against them the mutants didn¡¯t buckle. Beasts leapt into cockpits and vacant seats, tearing about all those inside in a moment and causing more than a few of the metal coffins to veer off and slam into walls or simply flip moments later. The battle surrounding the unconscious boy was chaotic and bloody, hundreds of bodies writhing and fighting merely for the sake of it. A small defensive formation quickly formed around Alexander¡¯s body, protecting the boy with grins and serrated blades. The giant mutant, which towered above all surrounding it, proved to be the center of attention. Crew after crew of crazed men and women did battle with the creature. Nimble metal fleas skirted around it, tumbling over uneven ground as their passengers fired shot after shot. Kicking and thrashing the massive creature lashed out at all that got near it, toppling a nearby wall as the mutant haphazardly threw one out of control vehicle away. Summoning its strength the beast crouched, huffing and taking in a deep breath before letting out a thunderous roar. It charged towards the vehicles still streaming into the street, slamming past its smaller brothers and sisters and stomping on all humans it passed. One unlucky crew overestimated the frame they depended on and slammed into the beast head on. Metal curved around hardened flesh as both the crew and the vehicle itself compressed against the bony plates of the giant. And still it kept moving, a trail of destruction left in its massive wake. Every step it took made the ground about it shudder and crack, every huffing breath and vocalization nearly deafening those around it. As the chaos reigned about Alexander, one delicate hand would tap at his chin, testing for a moment before roughly shoving it upwards. Grasping at his neck for a moment its owner sighed before dropping fully onto their knees. Tugging a bag off their back they drew out a small medical kit. Clawed fingers would tear open a bag as the creature got to work, its eyes focused on the child as it began to apply its craft. A stray mutant eventually approached, madly slicing its way through the haphazard wall of people that had formed in between the two helpless non-combatants. Mouth filled with frothy gore it immediately focused on the other attending to Alexander, clawed hands tearing at all those around it. Pale muscles flexed with unholy strength as it howled, drawing the attention of all the other creatures surrounding it. The howl spread out amongst the sea of bodies, dozens of eyes immediately turning to the source immediately. Swearing, the hooded figure tending to Alexander began to pack up, gesturing and growling out orders. Bloody fingers grabbed the boys stained and ruined shirt before the slight creature rolled, lifting the boy onto its back. Smaller than the young teen it struggled to shoulder the weight as its mad human allies began to slam into the hole now created by the enraged creature. Golden eyes gleamed beneath a dark hood as the creature tending to Alexander began to move. When the giant slammed into the small defensive circle a moment later it carried with it the many wounds of its battles. Spikes from various vehicles it had claimed hung deep in its skin, poisonous blood pouring from fresh wounds as it forced itself through the throng. One ragged dressed woman screamed a challenge as she attempted to hold the line, her body a bloody pulp a moment later. The giant swung its massive arm in a clumsy arc, scattering human bodies and cracking bone as its beady eyes finally found the target of its wrath. Bellowing it began to slather incoherently, a long pink tongue dropping from its mouth and dripping saliva onto the damp ground below. Its breath rumbled its chest, steam puffing from its mouth as it gazed at the creature carrying the boy it had downed a few minutes before. Not only had another invaded the giant¡¯s territory, it was attempting to steal its meal.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Sickening intelligence twisted in the giant¡¯s black eyes as it regarded the pair, the bony armor covering its frame allowing it to ignore the rabid humans slamming blades against it. Two predators glared at each other, two apex creatures of different species meeting by chance in the night, one issuing a challenge it couldn¡¯t ignore. The creature carrying Alexander was terrified, its golden eyes regarding the creature before it with both awe and fear. Their hands clasped tightly into Alexander¡¯s still bleeding frame as the stumbled a dozen step backwards, attempting to put distance between themselves and the beast before them. Its yellow eyes could see everything in the dim light surrounding them. It had seen the many humans the beast had torn to shreds. It had seen the bloody wrecks it had left in its wake. It knew it stood no chance against the giant, for it was just a fledgling. Its thralls had bought it time but it was quickly running out of that as well. The smaller creature stumbled, the hood on its head slipping down to its neck, exposing a bat like face with its nostrils flaring as its lipped tightened. If Alexander had been awake he would have instantly recognized it as similar to the creature he had just met in the tunnels, but with a few marked differences. Namely this one seemed to be trying to rescue him, which he doubted had been the others goal. Hissing the creature carrying the boy took another hesitating step back, its eyes searching the dark for anything that it could use. It chittered loudly, an inhuman voice sending out orders as it cast its eyes towards the humans that surrounded it. Mad eyes turned, watching the creature adoringly for a moment or two, before they acted. One by one humans began to abandon the perimeter, turning their back to the mutants that began to tear them apart with a vigor that had rivaled the earlier mad charge. Human after human began to fall, their bodies clogging the ground below, but they eventually achieved their goal. Body after body began slamming into the giant. The first few were simply tossed away, massive limbs flexing and scattering the bodies that attempted to hamper it. But as time went on, and as more humans began to abandon the line, their goal became apparent. Clasping fingers began to tear at bony plates, scrambling for any sort of purchase. As the first gripped at their holds others would soon join them, grabbing and hampering the massive creature¡¯s movements to the best of their abilities. Still more began to slip thin knives into small cracks in the armor, while others clambered and climbed over the bodies of their comrades to reach higher and higher. All semblance of humanity began to drop from those that had received the order, the writhing mass of limbs resembling swarming ants as they fought to drive the beast to the ground below. Where vehicle and weapon had failed, the massed bodies succeeded. The giant¡¯s strength began to fail, the heavy weight of the humans hanging from its limbs making its movements sluggish and slow. As more and more weapons found cracks in its armor thousands of tiny cuts began to appear. Heated blood splashed and sprayed about it as it collapsed first to a single knee, and then to another as its body began to fail it. Still the damage had been done, the circle that had been protecting its inhabitants collapsed. Though the giant had been stopped its much smaller brethren had begun to break in. One by one the last humans began to be overwhelmed, their bodies falling only to be butchered a moment later by starving mouths and grasping fingers. But the panic in the yellow eyes below Alexander¡¯s limp form had lost the panic that had been forming within them. With one hand it lifted the hood once again over its face, hiding the elongated ears and flat nose once again. Taking a few steps it waited to finds its strength once again before letting out a piercing cry. One by one the surviving humans began to disengage from combat, finishing the mutants where they could or fighting on the retreat. Most headed for the discarded vehicles, though others travelled deeper in the ruins. They provided distractions that gave much needed time for their allies to pack themselves up once more onto the vehicles that had carried them there. A small hard packed cadre fought to a larger four wheeled ball of spikes that had once been a truck. Placing Alexander carefully into the back seat the creature clambered in beside him, already taking out its medical kit once again. Still more humans died as the engines began to roar, the hundreds of bestial mutants surrounding them realizing their prey was about to escape. Glass windows were smashed as wheels began to turn, tonnes of metal once again powered and rolling the way they had come. Spinning tires spat up dust and gore in equal measure, as the convoy once again headed out in the night. The carnage they had left behind them was immense. Hundreds of dead humans and mutants lay piled together. Still more fought and died even now as wounds began to drop those that had been left behind. Though they had felled the giant, the humungous creature still breathed, one shaking arm lifting its chest off the ground to gaze about it. It would find a feast surrounding it that it had not witnessed in years, a banquet of meat that would last it and the others for days. It was a glorious day for the creature, and even the shattered metal of the vehicles surrounding it didn¡¯t taint the small grin that formed on its face. Coughing and spluttering it fought its way to the choicest pile of meat and began to gorge itself. Soon its wounds were forgotten as it began to enjoy the meal in earnest. One by one its kin joined it, digging in as the last signs of fighting abated. Alexander¡¯s bouncing body had its wounds slowly tended too by steady hands. Clawed fingers delicately ran along ragged wounds, sealing them with twine and needles. Stitches were applied, blood was transfused, and life was once again forced into the boy. That was what the creature that now tended him had been ordered to do. As Alexander coughed and spluttered, a smile began to creep onto its face. Row after row of sharp teeth clicked and clattered as it began to laugh. The cold harsh noise filled the small cabin as the beast finished its work. It had definitely earned its pay that night. Chapter Seven: Soup When Alexander awoke his mind struggled to register all that was around him. The pain that twisted throughout his form confirmed that he was still alive but he had no idea how that could be possible. He remembered his enraged state, the claws digging into his back, and then almost nothing. Alexander had never been one to believe much in religion, and true to form when he had fought inches from death his mind had never bothered to ask what would come afterwards. Alexander hadn¡¯t been planning for an afterwards. He had been fully prepared for the blaze of glory he had attempted to enact to leave him without anything left. The boy simply thought he would die and that would be it. So when his eyes opened to the dirty medical room surrounding him, the thought of it being the afterlife never crossed his mind. Still even as his groggy eyes panned about he couldn¡¯t recognize anything. The world was blurry, out of focus and nothing really lined up correctly. Alexander could see the various medical tools lying about, some still splattered with rapidly congealing blood, but as he attempted to reach out towards them his arms seemed to stop short. It took him another few minutes to gather his wits enough to discover why. One was quiet obvious, the metal shackle that tied his arm to the bedside glittered even in the pale light. But it took him quite a while to evaluate what had happened to his other arm. His still addled mind struggled to process what he was seeing. His confusion made itself quite apparent on his face as the emotion ripped through the fog gripping him. Kicking out his legs in horror he struggled to right himself, the flailing limbs pushing Alexander up in his bed only for the shackle on his arm to keep him from rolling away. Pain shot through him as the ankle he had been limping on flared up again, the sturdy cast supporting it now wrapped up in sheets. Where Alexander¡¯s arm once stood lay a bandaged stump. Just below his shoulder sat a wrapping of gauze, the white fabric tightly wrapped around the severed limb. The gauze was damp with both his sweat and blood from the wound that surely lay underneath and his panicked eyes absorbed every detail. The boy¡¯s eyes never left the location of his now amputated limb, his breathing now picking up in speed. Whatever drugs had been administered were burned away as a wave of adrenaline hit his system. His eyes lit up with a singular focus as he flexed his remaining arm, straining against the bond that held him. He was acting like a frantic animal, trapped and scared as the walls of the room began to close in on him. His already panicked breathing took on a new pace as his body bucked and strained at his bonds. His mind was going haywire, trying to piece together what the hell had happened to him. Why was he chained to the bed? How had he possibly survived? And most importantly, what had happened to his fucking arm? Each question built the panic in the boy¡¯s body, making his situation seem worse to him with every waking moment. If he had been completely sober, without the cocktail of pain meds and sleeping agents running through his system, he would still have been scared. All the drugs seemed to do in this moment was heighten that fear, make his mind unable to react and reign him in. When the door to the medical room opened, the first glimpse he saw of his savior was a horrific one. The beast¡¯s face was uncovered, the lab coat it wore doing nothing to obscure its inhuman features. Letting out a startled cry the boy flinched away. He had seen a face like that before. The flattened flared nose was too close to the one he had seen in the tunnels to be a coincidence. The pointed ears that dwarfed the rest of the face bobbed obscenely as the creature moved. Curling his torso Alexander attempted to shy away, yanking harshly with his remaining arm and causing the bed underneath him to once again lurch. This time the wheels below it creaked into motion, sliding the bed an inch away from the door only for it to bump up against the wall behind it. Alexander could feel the pain in his arm faintly, the strain he was putting on it certainly not helping as he fought with renewed vigor to free himself. He swore repeatedly, only to freeze as a clicking noise echoed about the small room. His deep blue pools would immediately turn to the creature, his eyes focusing sharply as he regarded it. It was laughing at him. The cruel noise lacked all empathy as it addressed the panicked boy. His attempt to free himself just amused the beast, and for some reason, pissed Alexander off. Anger burned through the panic in his mind, replacing the crazed animal with another, his eyes narrowing as the strain on his arm slackened in almost an instant. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t stop! Sorry if I disturbed you, I¡¯m sure if you keep going you¡¯ll get rid of the other one too,¡± the beast cackled, gesturing with one pale sickly looking hand. Its voice was a crackling strained tone, as though it was unused to speaking. Still, Alexander understood it, which only angered him further. ¡°How-?¡± Alexander asked a moment later, his voice cracking dryly as he struggled to speak. He hissed sharply as the rest of his bodies¡¯ sensations caught up to him suddenly. Now that the panic had faded, the pain had come back in force. Every joint and inch of his form throbbed like he had been torn apart. His back was by far the worst as every attempt to turn or twist his form was met with an agony he hadn¡¯t experienced before.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! He was also incredibly thirsty, the dry state of his lips and mouth marking how long it had been since he had been given a drink. The creature smiled, its razor filled maw twinkling in the low light as it spoke, ¡°How what? How¡¯d you get here? How you survived? How you lost your arm?¡± The creatures speech made it quite hard to tell, but Alexander was sure it was mocking him as it continued, ¡°How a boy like you, wandering about in the night, managed to even last a minute? How he found himself in the tunnels, how he got himself so chewed up? Simple answer pretty much for those ones, you¡¯re an idiot.¡± Alexander tensed, opening his mouth to rebuke the creature only for it to wave its hand. Squeaking out in a tone barely within the range of Alexander¡¯s hearing it gestured towards him. A moment later another human entered the room carrying a small bowl and a glass. The tray was placed beside him, a set of hands reaching out to unlock the shackle chaining him down a moment later. ¡°Eat and I¡¯ll fill you in,¡± the beast ordered, once again gesturing only for it to swear. The scruffy looking human that had been tending to Alexander had reached out towards the food, only for the boot of the creature to catch it in its rear. ¡°Not you! Out!¡± it shrieked dishing out another violent kick as the human scurried back towards the door. Alexander watched the other human with wary eyes. Something about him had made the boy unnerved. His eyes had been almost empty, as though they regarded the world through a clouded lens. There had been no smile on their face, no emotion at all as they had laid eyes on the boy. Some long forgotten instinct told the boy that whatever that man was he was an abomination. A freak, a husk of a former human. He turned wary eyes to the creature once again, the anger in them simmering down for a moment as he regarded the creature in a new light. The creature seemed to ignore the change in the boy¡¯s demeanor and motioned towards the food again, the movement impatient as it began to speak, ¡°Eat it or I¡¯ll just feed it to someone else.¡± Alexander wasn¡¯t one to forgo food, even when it came from a suspicious source, and began to dig in with only minimal amounts of encouraging. The soup was basically a thin barely flavoured broth, only degrees away from water, but it reinvigorated him. Soon he was slurping spoonful after spoonful of it into his mouth, swallowing almost immediately as he warily watched the other in the room with him. The beast had a disgusted look on its face as it slowly drew out a chair, wheeling it over beside his bed muttering under its breath as it did so. It pulled itself onto the seat just as it began speaking again, ¡°To put this simply, you owe us a debt. Well, more specifically you owe me a debt, but my coven and I can figure all the nitpicky stuff out later. I saved you. I tallied it up and you cost me thirty three thralls. Thirty three humans lives that I threw away just to pick up your grimy body. So that¡¯s thirty three lives you owe me.¡± Alexander regarded the creature with a wary look, half swallowed spoonful of soup still in his mouth. His mind spun with questions, none of them answered as the creature spoke. More and more were added to the pile as information as revealed to him and he just wanted to ask them all. Swallowing slowly, his voice finally rose in volume to do so. It took an hour of discussion, a back and forth mediated by the meal he managed to slowly force into himself between questions, but the situation was explained to him. His father had saved him. The boy had expected his father to run home, to hole up and wait for him, but the grown man hadn¡¯t done that. The boy found himself questioning what he knew of his father¡¯s history as more and more was revealed to him. The creature before him didn¡¯t know the specific details, but his father had reached out to its coven the moment he had gotten home. How he had done so, how he had even known how to do so both beings in the room did not know. But his father had done so, and had done so to save his child. The price had been set, had been extracted, and Alexander had been saved. An agent had been sent out to save the child, and that agent sat before him. Alexander had sat calmly throughout the explanation, only asking for confirmation when he grew confused. His face was stony as he learned of his father¡¯s choice, it flinched only as the process to save him was explained. His arm had been ruined. The bone had splintered and had been shattered in more places than could be remedied. The flesh had been torn and shredded, and a choice had to be made. The creature that had saved him only had a certain number of resources available to it, and seemingly fitting donor blood was one of the rarest. The wounds on his arm were too ragged to stitch up in any speed, and though the deep jagged ones in his back were much worse, it had to prioritise. It was lose time fixing the arm while the boy bled out, or lose the arm and focus on his back. It had made the logical choice. The only change in Alexander was the spoon in his fingers, the rusted instrument shaking now as he lowered it in between slurps. The creature eyed him with cold eyes, its claws tapping a rhythm into the chair it sat upon as it waited for a response. It was surprised by the boy, though it attributed his demeanor more to the chemicals in his veins than to anything else. Alexander kept his face still, but his mind was in complete turmoil. His father¡¯s made no sense to the boy, it didn¡¯t match up to what the boy knew of the man. He thought he had convinced him to wait for him, that he would be okay, but now he knew otherwise. In reality the decision that his father had made peering into the tunnel that held his son hadn¡¯t been a hard one. As the night grew closer, and the danger to his offspring grew, the weak man knew he didn¡¯t have another choice. He couldn¡¯t lose another child, and though the price was steep he had been willing to pay it. If he had been stronger, better, he would have done it himself. But he couldn¡¯t. He had to rely on others to do it for him. The doctor had hidden many things about the world from his son. Certain facts about the wasteland, about society, about anything of import he left out. He taught his son what he could about survival, but he purposefully tried to keep Alexander na?ve. The existence of the Others was one of the biggest secrets kept from the child. The world was in such turmoil already, and the boy had to face endless terrors every moment he lived. The man didn¡¯t want the hope that he had tried to foster in his children squished before it could grow. And if there was anything that the Others excelled at, it was crushing hope. Chapter Eight: Family Alexander spoon slowly trailed the edge of the bowl, gathering every last drop of the soup he could before he brought it to his mouth. The creature before him had continued to speak, its voice grating every sensory nerve he had as it berated him. It gave him a list of rules, most of which the boy had already forgotten, and had listed out the punishments associated with each rule as well. But Alexander¡¯s mind was elsewhere, the questions that plagued it grew larger as he finished the bowl, the faint taste not leaving his tongue as he spoke. Alexander cut off the creature, the annoyed noise it made ignored as the boy continued, ¡°What are you?¡± The creature paused, its eyes growing wide a moment later before the click that signalled its laugh picked up again. ¡°I forgot! Your village was in the boonies right? That¡¯s where the good doctor ended up? That empty space just to the north of the downtown right? Yeah we don¡¯t go there much. Some ancient treaty with the mutts on the other side, which your father has now so nicely cleared up.¡± Alexander took note of every mention of his father, his eyes narrowing at every small snippet of information. It was growing more and more apparent to the boy that his father had kept him in the dark. Small things in the past began to add up, muffled arguments with his mother, zones and streets that had been avoided despite the abundant food. Villages and people that the man had isolated his family from, refusing to trade or discuss things with them. Alexander was yanked from his thoughts as the beast continued. ¡°I¡¯m a¡ªwhat¡¯s the human word? An Other? Rude but applicable. I¡¯m not human. I¡¯m not a mutant. Well, that¡¯s not strictly true, I was once a human. Kind of. Part of me?¡± The creature seemed lost in thought for a moment before it waved its hand, ¡°Anyways. Your parents ever tell you stories? Old history? What the world was like before?¡± Alexander nodded slowly, his eyes watching the beast grow more and more excited at every word it spoke. It worried him, but Alexander kept himself still, every so often taking a sip from his glass. ¡°So they would have told you it was nice right? Organized? Your life would have been much better then. Instead of¡­.hunting rats or whatever it is that you do to live, you could have been a lawyer, or a farmer, or a pilot! Fun stuff I¡¯ve been told. Humans reigned then, sat at the top of the food chain. We didn¡¯t like that, but we couldn¡¯t really do anything about it either.¡± the beast shrugged, ¡°I mean this is before my time as well, so I¡¯m not sure about it all, but I know one thing. You guys royally fucked up.¡± Alexander nodded once again, so far this matched what his parents had told him. To say that life would have been better for him before the bombs would be an understatement. There would be no mutants. No fog. No fighting for resources, no starvation or death. To the boy born into the wastes life before ruination sounded the closest to heaven he had ever been shown. The fact that it had actually been real had at times proven hard for the boy to wrap his mind around. To think that his parents had once lived on a planet that didn¡¯t try to kill you at every turn, that didn¡¯t try to gut you and feast upon your insides astounded him. ¡°Well, when you guys started doing that, we started to have a problem as well. Simply put, we needed you guys. Food, slaves, entertainment, whatever. So when you idiots started wiping out your own species we began to panic. The mutts seem to like to make more of them with you guys, we like to eat you and use you, so on and so on. Your kind had done a good job at keeping us underground since our conception, but when everything began to fall apart, well, we needed to act.¡± Alexander froze, his calm demeanor hardening in an instant as he tightened his hand around the spoon in his grasp. Nothing about what he had just learned sat right with him, nor did his savior¡¯s casual mention of eating humans. The creature before him seemed to notice the change, its eyes darkening for a moment as it hissed harshly, ¡°Oh don¡¯t fucking give me that look. We saved you. When your society began to crumble to dust, we crawled out of your sewers and made something with the rubble. When nuclear fire began to rain down, we sheltered you in our homes. When death began stalking you in the dark, we met claw with claw, tooth with tooth. The fact that any humans walk free at all is proof of our mercy. Our benevolence.¡± Alexander opened his mouth to speak, but the creature shushed him violently. The hiss that slipped through its sharp teeth was one full of an emotion Alexander couldn¡¯t place. The golden eyes filled with a regal hatred for all those below it, Alexander included. ¡°Our cattle had put themselves in danger, and we had been forced to step in. If your idiocy had wiped you out, you would drag us into the dark with you. So we made ourselves known. Groups that had fought us for generations collapsed as we began to shelter you. Humans accusing us of horrific deeds went ignored as we opened up our arms and cradled you. Humans pledged to serve us, and we pledged to save them.¡± Again the creature simply shrugged, its smile losing the darkness that had been creeping inwards, ¡°And now your family has joined the fold!¡± Alexander flinched, the sickening joy that the creatures smile seemed to exude sending a shiver up and down his spine. What had his father done? Alexander sat in silence for some time as the information washed over him. After its speech the creature before him had once again launched itself into the rules it had begun to teach him, and now Alexander understood the implications. These were to be the rules of his new life, a life underneath the creature that had taken his arm. The creature that had saved him. The mixed emotions that gripped the boy didn¡¯t fade as the creature left him alone, leaving by the same door that it had entered.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Curling up on the bed the boy tried to organize the thoughts crashing around in his skull. The information he had learned changed everything he knew about his own existence. About his place in the world. The world view that his father had cultivated had been shattered completely. As time went on Alexander¡¯s mind slowly made sense of it all. His role had been explained to him, his station laid out before him, and he hated it. He had just discovered his actual place in the world and he had instantly grown to despise it. He was cattle. He was foodstuff and a slave. His life held no meaning in itself, and the more that fact sat with him the more he grew to despise it. The hatred he had held for the mutants migrated to a new host with every moment he spent in that quiet medical room. Alexander¡¯s eyes gazed at the door the creature had closed behind it with animosity that had only been seen once before. The hate that glazed them burned and tore at all else once more. His father would have whacked the boy if he had seen it. The man had convinced himself that this was the best choice available to them. And if he had seen his sons face now, he would have known instantly what had been going through it. What the man had seen as saving his sons life, his son has seen as throwing it away. Just as the boy had known if his father had jumped into the tunnel with him he¡¯d be killing his mother and sister, Alexander also knew doing this had doomed them all. The boy was stubborn, and his father would have called it stupidity, and even though some rational part of mind knew the choice his father had made was the right one, he hated it. It had been to save his life, but Alexander wished his father hadn¡¯t made that decision at all. Alexander, in all the anger of his age, wanted to die on that hill of rubble. He would have wanted to go out fighting, and to have his last moments spent living on his own terms. His father simply wished his son a better death than that. Both had made their decisions, and both had to live with the consequences. For Alexander that meant he was now assigned a life that he couldn¡¯t stomach. A reality that he had been forced into that he hated. He stewed in his emotions, teeth grinding in the dark as the light in the room flickered and crackled above his head. Thoughts swirled as he lost track of time, half dozing as his mind worked on all the information it had been given. Eventually he stepped from the bed, his good arm stabilizing him as he tested his bad leg by putting a bit of weight on it. The cast managed to support him as he took a hobbling step forwards. He took stock of himself and his surroundings for what felt like the first time as he paced about. His upper body was covered in bandages, the white gown that covered his body preserving his modesty as he paced about. The room was sparse, but the layout and tools that surrounded him told the boy that he wasn¡¯t being treated like some sort of prisoner. There were too many things lying about that could be used as a weapon. Tools that had been used to heal him now lay on tables surrounding him. He knew some of them had been used to remove his left arm, but he refused to think about it. He didn¡¯t want know exactly what had been done to him while he had been unconscious. The less he knew the better he would feel about it. Thinking about the surgery and the wound that had caused it made him squeamish and uneasy. A few times he picked up a tool, waved it about and tested the weight in his hand before setting it down. His arm felt weak, and though he had been given some food his body was still carrying the wounds from the day before. Alexander had exerted a lot of energy in the mad dash he had made across the wastes, and his body still hadn¡¯t recovered all of it. Alexander wasn¡¯t stupid. He was testing himself, and he immediately knew his chances were slim were he to do anything rash. He was tempted to continue his suicidal rampage against all that he hated, but he knew that wouldn¡¯t solve anything. He wasn¡¯t aware of exactly what price his father had paid but he didn¡¯t want to make all that pain worth nothing. If he died everything that had been done to save him would mean nothing. And so, no matter how tempted he was to kill the creature that had saved him, he wouldn¡¯t do it. The pacing helped the passage of time somewhat, and when the door to the room opened again shortly afterwards Alexander made sure to put himself right in front of it. Behind the door simply lay a dark hallway, another matching door on the other end blocking any further investigation and the creature and another human padded into the room. ¡°Good, you¡¯re up,¡± the creature hissed, stepping closer to the boy rapidly. With practiced movements it ran its claws along the gauze and bandages that covered the many wounds covering his body. It pressed gently, testing and prodding as it circled the boy. With curious eyes Alexander watched it work, opening his mouth after a few moments and speaking slowly, ¡°I have two more questions.¡± The creature nodded, distracted for a moment, ¡°Sure, ask them. Just stand still.¡± ¡°How do I address you? Do you have a name?¡± the beast laughed, nodding, only to pause as Alexander asked his next question, ¡°And what price did my father have to pay to save me?¡± Snorting the beast finished testing the bandages, gesturing to the human at its side as it undid one and replaced it, ¡°My names Nicholas.¡± Nicholas clicked his teeth as he adjusted one dressing, ¡°And simple enough. You¡¯ll be serving me, your father will serve my master. Your mother will be given work tending to vehicles. Your younger sister,¡± he paused as Alexander tensed, sensing something shifting within the boy. One eye brow raised as a golden eye peered upwards, continuing after a moment of measured glances between the two, ¡°Your sister will be processed. Cleansed. She is not yet old enough to be of use yet, and tests must be done. Whether she will stay human or be turned, become a hideous mutant, or another like me, we need to know. She has been taken from your mother for the time being.¡± Nicholas paused again, hissing as Alexander tensed, flicking the boy with one claw. ¡°But will be returned soon. Probably. Unless she responds well to our blood in which case,¡± the creature shrugged, ¡°I¡¯ll have a new sister.¡± Alexander¡¯s fingers clenched tightly together, his knuckles turning white as his eyes stared stonily at the metallic wall before him. He wasn¡¯t sure it all added up, why the creature before him thought he would be worth more than the thirty some odd lives it had spent rescuing him. Why his father had been even able to make this deal eluded the boy. Releasing the pressure in one hand he released the breath he had been holding onto, giving the creature below him a glance. This was his life now whether he liked it or not. But the hate didn¡¯t dissipate. It burned deep within him, focused on many targets. Nicholas. The Mutants. His father. But for the moment he pushed it deeper within him, storing it for fuel later. The urge to see his family outweighed it, the solitude of the room was already getting to him. Chapter Nine: Camp Nicholas finished his work with the bandages without much of a flourish. One moment he was continuing to poke and prod at Alexander, the next he was simply shrugging and moving off. Though Alexander had only the most basic of first aid training he could see the skill behind the claws that had run against his skin. Though they were razor sharp the boy never feared that they would pierce him, even as they had been used to cut away some of the bandages that covered him. The hands that had guided them had been slow and methodical. And though the creature made sure to look distinctly bored Alexander could see the care Nicholas put into his work. Alexander had also caught glimpses of the wounds underneath the gauze. Though the worst of it was on his back many of the scrapes and cuts that crisscrossed his form were visible. The wounds looked ragged, but the stitch work was well done. Each one must have taken some time to complete and the more Alexander looked the more he realized that. Nicholas must have spent hours tending to him. Alexander wasn¡¯t sure if that meant anything at all. Maybe it was part of the deal. Maybe his life meant something to the creature. Or maybe Nicholas was just a perfectionist. It was in that moment that Alexander realized he knew next to nothing about his saviour. He couldn¡¯t read or predict the creature at all. He only picked up the obvious reactions, the clicking of laughter or the wide sharp toothed smiles. The golden eyes that peered at him were unreadable. The mind they broadcast was alien, foreign and strange to the boy. Alexander couldn¡¯t even operate off his past knowledge. He had no idea if the rules or patterns he had learned would even apply here. Which things did this creature have in common with humans? Where did it differ? Every interaction seemed only to add to his list of questions. Every twitch or expression on the creatures face only added to his confusion. And even the things he did recognize hardly helped at all. The creature would laugh or smile at weird times. Every hiss or utterance of pain that escaped Alexander¡¯s mouth made Nicholas¡¯s twitch into a grin. It wasn¡¯t that he enjoyed causing pain to the boy, though that couldn¡¯t be ruled out, because he seemed to be avoiding that. His hands were gentle, calm, and measured in every action they took. Eventually Alexander gave up trying to read the face tending to him and just let it do its work. Of course that meant by the time Nicholas had finished Alexander was incredibly bored. Humming a wordless tune he had to be reminded multiple times to stop moving. Despite his wounded and tired state he wanted out from the room. He wanted to do something, to see something other than the cold metal that surrounded him. So when Nicholas gestured towards the door prompting the thrall beside him to move towards it, Alexander opened his mouth to speak. ¡°I¡¯m leaving too,¡± he simply stated, voice hard as though it was more akin to a command than a request. He wasn¡¯t sure what the arrangement between him and Nicholas was in that moment. He was certainly some sort of prisoner, but he wasn¡¯t sure the specifics of his containment. Nicholas simply shrugged, his wide mouth growing into a yawn as he gestured towards the door. ¡°Be my guest it isn¡¯t locked, and it¡¯s not as if I can put you to work until you¡¯re healed. Just make sure you don¡¯t wander far from the camp, I won¡¯t be going out to save you a second time.¡± Hesitantly Alexander nodded, sure that something was going to follow that statement. This was going to be a trick of some sort, or another excuse to make him sit through another long list of rules. When neither came from the Nicholas, Alexander immediately made his way to the door. He didn¡¯t wait for any further compensation, making it to the doorway before anybody in the room could make another noise. Swinging the door wide he made his way into the hallway, slamming it home beside him with purposeful force. That little act of rebellion cheered the boy up considerably, though it did remind him of his missing arm. It was a bitter sweet sensation, the act itself enjoyable but the loss of some strength preventing the slam from truly being satisfying. His new injury became even more apparent at he found himself in front of the second doorway. The door required him to twist his body strangely, pressing the handle with his one hand and slamming his shoulder against the door to get it moving. With a hiss the door slowly slid open and bathed the hallway in dim light. The crack grew as Alexander shouldered onwards, the warmth of the sunlight fueling him as he took his steps back into the world. He left the calm, cool indoors behind him as he entered the chaos of the camp. Alexander¡¯s first glimpse of his new home was chaotic. Humans scrambling everywhere in numbers the boy struggled to comprehend. Alexander had always thought the small village he had been brought up in was the largest society could support in its current state. Though it was only a small gathering of a dozen families, already the infighting and family politics had split the community multiple times. Alexander¡¯s old village couldn¡¯t be compared to what he saw now. Instead of small squat scrap metal hovels, the very ancient towers that had always surrounded him looked to be inhabited. Clothing and fabric hung from lines above his head, coloring and filtering the sunlight that reached him in the dusty street. He could see pale faces peering at him from smashed windows, children with dirt streaked cheeks smiling at him from above. He couldn¡¯t even see the wall that must protect the settlement. There seemed to be no concern for space, something that had dominated the boy¡¯s life up until this point. The walls were the only thing that protected the humans that lived within them come nightfall. Everything important had to exist within the walls, or come morning it would be torn apart. The walls restricted everything the humans within them could do, protected them and hampered them. Every night most of the village would take turns guarding them, making sure nothing would tear them apart without some kind of warning beforehand. Walls to Alexander held an incredible importance. From the day he had been old enough to leave them he had learned their importance. Thousands of times he had been drilled on their maintenance. His survival depended on them, and slowly an obsession with them had been formed. It wasn¡¯t a strange occurrence in the current age as it was born from something incredibly useful. Paranoia and concern for the walls was something that every village needed to foster. Much of their lives needed to be spent defending them, maintaining them, and building them. Each human born into the wastes needed to learn the importance of the structures that surrounded them or they would perish.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. So when Alexander peered about and saw an absence of walls, his anxiety spiked to levels he had never experienced. The safety of the walls was something he had learned to rely on every time he had left them behind. Even as he was stumbling through the tunnels, he knew that if he could just make it to the walls he would be safe. They could and would protect him, Alexander just needed to stumble into their embrace. Without the knowledge of their existence Alexander found himself feeling exposed. That any danger could take him immediately and there was nothing he could do about it. The safety of the walls had been drilled so deeply into his mind, that even the number of humans surrounding him did nothing to alleviate the paranoia that began to grip him. What he didn¡¯t know was the settlement had something better than walls. The camp was one of the smaller gatherings of humans in the area, but still it didn¡¯t need the protection that the walls could provide. All human settlements needed something to protect them from the terrors in the night, but this wasn¡¯t a human settlement. Though the majority of the people that walked about the boy were as human as Alexander was, no one would consider them the true owners of the territory. But Alexander wasn¡¯t aware of that fact, all he saw was the empty stretches of cleared road that seemed to lead in every direction. He saw every way a mutant could slip into the territory, and already his mind was fixating on how exposed he was. He began to look for danger everywhere, his eyes seeing nothing but other mindless sets as the humans around him scurried around and did their work. The door behind him creaked open as Nicholas stepped through, grunting as the light hit his pale skin. He grumbled under his breath before jabbing Alexander in the back harshly shunting him forwards and out of his way. ¡°Stop ruining the looks of my clinic,¡± the creature grumbled before slipping past the boy and stepping onto the dirty path. Blearily Alexander caught a hold of himself. The brief but torturous pain the creature had inflicted on him by applying pressure to his back had cleared his mind for a brief moment. It had allowed his mind to catch up on the rapidly ramping up paranoia and calm it, reining it in. He still didn¡¯t trust the safety of the settlement surrounding him, but at least he was now able to take a few steps into it. When a rabid mutant didn¡¯t immediately charge from a darkened alleyway and finish him off, he grew much more confident his bare feet digging into the dirt as he began to jog. First he was simply drinking in his surroundings, but soon he was moving with a singular purpose. The more humans he saw, the more he became unnerved. It wasn¡¯t just the number of them that astounded him, though the improbability of it was very apparent. It was the look in their eyes. The empty, mindless way that they looked at him as he passed by. They didn¡¯t regard the running boy with any curiosity or thought. Their eyes were dull and their focus was always towards whatever work they were performing. All around Alexander humans could be doing menial tasks of some sort. Some were cleaning the roads and building all around him, using ancient brooms or brushes and tugging at the wastes as though it would achieve anything. Others were repairing structures or building others, teams working in perfect unison to lift heavy objects or to hammer in nails. Not every eye that he caught was like that, though the exceptions were always notable. They were either incredibly young, the children that peered at him showing no signs of the affliction, or they seemed incredibly busy. Those that he saw were always guiding others, or working at more complex tasks. The ones that he noted avoided his gaze, either by turning their focus back to whatever they were working on, or blatantly just turning their gaze away. When they did catch his eye the fear that he caught was palpable. They looked terrified, completely and utterly terrified of him. Alexander at first thought it was something about his clothing, but when he checked the gown that was covering him and the bandages that wrapped his body he didn¡¯t find anything out of place. The gown was a light blue, the bandages recently swapped so they were completely white, but they were looking at him as though he was covered in blood. All he could do was meet those fearful eyes with a frown as he jogged by them, intent on reaching his goal. He had smelt it early into his jaunt into the fresh air. A taint of oil and grime, and the closer he got to it the noises that reached his ears picked up dramatically in volume. Loud saws and grinders chopped away at metal, hammers pounding, and the ever present rumbling of engines. The location of his family had been told to him only once, but he had made sure to memorize each of the little details. He knew those noises off by heart, he had heard them enough in his short life. Sure enough when his soft bare feet padded into the shop, he saw her almost immediately. His mother for the most part wasn¡¯t a woman that stood out, nor was she one that ever wished to do so. She was shorter than her son even at his young age, and the dark hair that covered her head seemed to camouflage her in the grease and smoke of the areas where she worked. A thin layer of dirt seemed to cover every inch of her body constantly, but Alexander instantly picked her out of the crowd of other humans. He did so easily, for she was his mother and though the animosity towards his father had grown in the past few hours, his love for her hadn¡¯t faded one bit. She was burned into his memory, much like his father was. Despite his feelings towards the man in the current moment, Alexander would have had the same reaction upon seeing him. Alexander spotted her tool in hand, hair pulled tightly behind her head as she fiddled with something deep within the body of a machine. The hood loomed over her head, keeping her in the shadows, but he could see the expression she would have in his minds eye. That slight frown, the careful look in her eyes as she regarded a problem had been a common occurrence in his household. Alexander sprinted towards her, his feet slapping against the hard ground and the noise echoing in the enclosed space. Before she could even react his arm would wrap around her waist, his body pulling her from her concentration into a hug. All the emotional turmoil, all the anxiety and fear that had gripped him since he had left his father¡¯s presence, melted away instantly. The warmth of her calmed his wounds, her very presence fixing all the problems that had been building up in his mind. She¡¯d always had this effect on him, and though the boy spent most of the time hunting with his father, it had truly been his mother who held sway over his heart and mind. All the growth pains of his age never seemed to target her. His angst, his fears, his rages, all seemed targeted at the man at her side. And in that moment Alexander was happier than he had been in months. A great weight had been lifted from his soul, strangling chains that had hobbled his worldview until he had wrapped his arm around her. When she turned, and the smile upon her face lit up his vision, his only grew a few more degrees. The few moments that she allowed him to hold her were more healing to the boy than any medicine Nicholas had given him. When she swore and shoved him backwards a few moments later, his heart sang with joy just to see the happiness in her eyes before she began to berate him. Alexander had gotten his rage and hatred from somewhere, and the cool and calm collected man that was his father had only ever tried to stymy that aspect. The inferno of maternal rage above him, hissing about his stupidity, was much more his style. Chapter Ten: Thralls Alexander spent the rest of the evening with his mother, simply staying by her side. It was both for the company her presence simply provided, and for the answers to questions he had been hesitant to ask Nicholas. Questions he knew the beast would take offense too, or punish him for. Alexander¡¯s mother was excited to see him, and though the way she had chewed him out didn¡¯t outwardly show it, they both knew the two of them were happy to be back together. His mother had been worried for him the moment the sun began to sink above her head. Alexander and his father were known to stay out later than most, so it wasn¡¯t a strange occurrence when they didn¡¯t arrive with the other hunting parties. But she had simply never been able to completely get rid of the nagging feeling whenever evening began to colour the skies around her. Every time they had made it back safely she had inwardly admonished herself for worrying, but when only her husband entered the walls that night she had feared the worse. Visions of her son¡¯s corpse had danced across her vision, and it had only been the intervention of a neighbour and the screaming cry of her young daughter that had kept her within the walls that night. The passion that had consumed her didn¡¯t fade, and for a short while a flurry of activity had centered on her. She had been the first to suggest the solution that they had settled on, though the doctor she had married quickly agreed. Both of them were damaged individuals. The cracks on their psyches had been made in the long years since the bombs had fallen. Years ago they had made a set of promises to each other. Promises that were broken and shattered the instant their son was in danger. Promises to stay away from the Others, promises to keep their family hidden and separate from their pasts. Promises to not value one child over another, promises to look forward to the future even if one of them passed. All of these promises had been made when the two had been calm and collected. Their minds understood the reasons and agreed to stick to them until the day they died. The promises were broken the moment one of the most fundamental human instincts entered the equation. As soon as their son was in danger, all the reason, all of the logic and thought that had been put into the promises they had kept for these long years was tossed away. They had to save him, and they had succeeded. But now as Diana looked at her son all of the weight of those promises crashed onto her shoulders. Even as she had been berating him, she had taken note of the stump where his arm had once been, and the look in his eyes. She saw the community she had brought him into, as the price of saving him. She saw her own failure to protect him, to drill the lessons she had tried to teach him that much harder into his skull. And now that he was berating her with questions she had no time to feel self-pity or remorse for her actions. Alexander simply annoyed those emotions out of her as she bent back to finish her work. Every word he spoke, every second he spent with her made her question her decisions less and less. Slowly a smile crept across her face, hidden from her son as she made sure to double her efforts to ignore him. Alexander was used to this behaviour from his mother. He knew she was hard at work, and that this was par for the course even if the subject of his questions was a bit more important. He wanted to know what his father was doing, why the Others had bothered to save him, what Alexander was supposed to be doing. All he got from his mother was the occasional grunt, or if he was lucky, a muttered answer without any real substance. Once or twice she shot him a glare as he disturbed her, but both of them knew the game they were playing. They had done it since he had been able to talk. To an outsider it would look like they were hardly interacting, or even that Diana was purposefully being rude towards him. In a way she was, but it was because she knew her son. If she gave him some tidbit of information he found interesting, he would latch onto it and would never leave her alone. His father was content to feed his curiosity whenever Alexander spoke to him, but his mother had a different philosophy towards such things. Namely to shut up and watch, and that some questions didn¡¯t deserve or need answers. Her attitude was born from a world view that had been taken on early in her life. You didn¡¯t survive long if you asked the wrong things, or got the wrong answers. It was much better to just find things out for yourself. Alexander wasn¡¯t a very talkative person, and with anyone else he would have been silent. But he and his mother had been playing this game for a very long time. It was normal and comforting for both of them, a ritual that helped center them as they both dealt with their own inner turmoil. They both missed the other members of their small family but by playing out this scenario they allowed themselves to relax. If the two of them had been reunited, it was only a matter of time before the other two joined them. Soon her work with the machine in front of her was done, the hood closed the instant she was done inspecting the device. In the time that it had taken Diana to finish the rest of the garage had cleared out, her fellow workers filtering out when whatever task they had been assigned was done. Though some still struggled and the sounds of tools being used never quite faded from the air. The garage was ever busy, vehicle after vehicle brought in. Some damaged beyond repair, other scuffed and shined almost to the state they had been made in.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Time to go home,¡± she grumbled gesturing towards the opened panel doors, and towards the dusty street where humans continued to scurry about. Alexander had been observing the people around him as he and his mother had talked, and he had noticed a few things. Just as his mother had wanted, when she refused to give him answers he had fed his curiosity another way. Alexander had learned a handful of things, and when he cross-referenced his observations to the rules Nicholas had given him earlier, the community he was now a part of became much clearer to him. Rules that he had ignored up until that point had become useful. Phrases and words were given context as he viewed what they were referencing. Thralls were the people with the dead look in their eyes. They were by far the most numerous of those that walked about, and they did so with robotic efficiency he would struggle to match. Nicholas had told Alexander to not bother them, to allow them to do their work without interference, but Alexander wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d be able to annoy them anyways. They seemed to ignore all others around them, going about whatever tasks they had been assigned without complaint or even a comment. They were also incredibly stupid. Alexander had watched his mother interacting with a few as she had worked, asking for parts of tools, and the ordeal looked exhausting. Even common, easily recognized objects had to be directly pointed out. And as far as Alexander saw they couldn¡¯t be taught any better. His mother had to continually point to the same part over and over, in order for them to bring it to her. There had also been mention of Battle-Thralls but Alexander had yet to see them, or if he had he hadn¡¯t taken notice of them. He couldn¡¯t pick them out of a crowd, but Nicholas had explicitly told the boy to not interact with them. The final group of people he had been told about, and what he assumed his own role to be, was freeman. These were the frightened eyes that had peered at him as he had walked the streets. These were the other mechanics that worked alongside his mother, the foremen who ran the construction sites, and the children who had watched him from above. These people had been spared whatever treatment would turn them into thralls, and Alexander could see only one reason why. That they were useful in other ways, ways that required them to have some of their intelligence intact. Realizing this the anger flared in Alexander¡¯s eyes once again, though this time his mother caught it. Reaching up she gripped her son¡¯s shoulder harshly, digging her nails into the fabric and yanking him from the spiral he was descending into. She gave him a look, her eyes digging into his as they left the garage behind them. She seemed to guess what he was thinking, and the thin line of her lips pressed tighter together as she shot him a glare. Barely above a whisper her harsh voice broke the silence between them as they moved, catching the way he looked at every thrall that passed them by. Now that he truly understood what they were, and their status below that of even slaves, his disgust was written on his young face. They had bothered him even before he had realized their true status and nature, but now something about them seemed to churn his very soul. ¡°Don¡¯t look at them like that,¡± his mother hissed almost immediately, redoubling her efforts to squeeze his shoulder, ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid.¡± Alexander glanced at his mother, but kept his mouth shut. He didn¡¯t understand why his mother cared. He was sure that she would agree with his assessment of the thralls. In fact he had caught glimpses of a look close to his, and the anger trapped within. They were abominations, perversions of what it meant to be human. Mindless husks that went through life at the behest of their masters. The more that Alexander thought about it the more he grew to detest their mere existence. Diana knew what was going through her sons mind, for it had gone through hers as well. But where her son had problems hiding and quelling the flame that burned within him, she had no such issues. She knew why the thralls existed, what purpose they served the community they had now joined. She also knew it was them or her. There was a reason behind all the fearful glances that had been sent her son¡¯s way. Every human that lived under the thumb of her families new masters were in danger of becoming a thrall. It was in the very nature of those who they served to turn those who were no longer useful to them in one way, into something useful in another. Where one tool loses and edge, another could be gained. When a human grew too old, or was replaced by another, another source of nourishment could be created. It was a vicious cycle, and one that her family had been put into. Alexander didn¡¯t know it, but the very hate he had for the thralls around him could soon be levied against him. Pity was something that had not been instilled in the boy, and his mother now saw the mistake she had made. Life in the wastes was about making hard choices. Pity often got in the way of that. You had to be selfish, and had to make sure your own survival was paramount. Pitying another was something that had gotten good people killed in the first days of the fall. The more she looked at her son, the more she realized where the true root of what he was feeling came from. He didn¡¯t recognize the emotion he was feeling. He didn¡¯t recognize the pity he was now encountering. Diana and her husband had succeeded in making their child suited for life in the wastes, but now that they had joined something larger than themselves he was out of his element. The hate he was feeling, the anger that ripped at him, was directed to those above the thralls. As it should be, but he couldn¡¯t distinguish between the evil before him, and those that had committed it. He simply wanted to rid the world of its taint. Much like how he saw the mutants as one looming behemoth that must be destroyed, he saw the thralls and the Others in the same light. Diana just hoped it wasn¡¯t too late to fix that. But as her son began to glower in the silence she had imposed over them, she began to fear for his place in society. She had saved him from the beasts he had known, and thrown him into a pit with creatures he had no experience with. Chapter Eleven: Reunion Diana and her child made their way through the darkening streets, the evening sun looming above them like a timer. Alexander soon saw himself distracted from his booming thoughts as the shadows around him crept closer. It was hard to focus on his hatred when a more primeval emotion was running its course through him. Fear was something that the boy was well accustomed too, his mind and body interacting with it on nearly a daily basis. He knew the signs and knew the things he would have to do to cope. The quickening of his pulse was the only sign Diana could not see outwardly, but she could pick up everything else. The way he held himself seemed to shrink, to shy away from the shadows that moved closer. His pace increasing with every passing moment. Alexander, though he would never admit it, had been affected by his adventure beyond the walls. While he had always given the night its fair share of respect, he had never had such a close encounter before. He still was not completely healed, and with his missing arm he never would be. The mad dash through the tunnels, the brief scuffle in the dark, the last moments on that hill of rubble. All of those scenes were burned permanently into his mind¡¯s eye, every second stretched as his recalled them. The sun shrinking beyond the horizon seemed to mirror that fateful night, and his body instinctively responded to what it perceived as a prediction of what was to come. Diana noticed the change right away in her child. She had been holding out hope that his strong spirit would shelter from the worst of the mental effects, but even she could see the signs. She had seen them before, many times in the groups of survivors she had once lived with. People who had just been pushed too far by the wastes, their nerves completely shot, and some part of their psyche shattered. Most just grew incredibly frightened of the mutants, refusing to leave the safety of the walls for any reason. Some seemed to manifest obsessions, seemingly at random, and would forever covet certain items. Others would develop unshakeable patterns or addictions, living their life in the wastes with rigid regimented activity. Alexander was developing one of the more common fears that seemed to taint the world they now inhabited. A fear of the dark. Her son, who had always been capable and stoic, was beginning to shiver at her side as they moved. It broke her heart, adding to the scars on that already struggling organ. The respect for the darkness she had instilled in him was being replaced by a panic. A fear. Something that would control him for the rest of his days, and there was nothing she could do about it. The fear wasn¡¯t an irrational one, on the contrary in the world they now lived in it was almost necessary. He had always tread carefully in the dark, now he just had firsthand experience on what would happen if he ever slipped up. The stump of Alexander¡¯s arm ached as his eyes began to flicker at the darkened alleyways surrounding him. The slow movement of his mother¡¯s arm around one shoulder, codling him softly and pulling him closer as they walked was the only thing slowing his heartbeat. He tried to use exercises his father taught him, ways of breathing or thinking that would settle his firing nerves, but nothing but his mother¡¯s presence seemed to help in that moment. Alexander¡¯s new fear was a powerful one, the phobia that it precluded just another injury that the mutants had caused him that night. When night fully set, and the streets darkened to levels Alexander could barely comprehend, the nature of the community he now lived in took on a dramatic change. From darkened doorways, and from the grates in the streets below movement began to stir. One by one, as humans began to filter into their homes to sleep, their masters awoke. Nicholas was the only Other Alexander had ever seen, but the similarities were instantly recognizable. All that he saw seemed to ignore him, their bat like features oriented towards the world around them. Golden eyes seemed to see right through him, elongated ears bounced as each walked not even bothering to turn to address him as the two humans passed them by. Their screaming calls soon filled the air, clawing at his nerves ever harder as they began to communicate with each other. Maws filled with sharpened teeth glistened in the faint starlight as the beasts began their nightly activities. They picked up where humans left off, a single creature taking over where teams of humans had been before. They guided the thralls where free humans had once done so, they began to sell wares to each other, and tend to the market stalls that stood along the street serving both human and other patrons now. Alexander now understood why there were no walls around the community. Why no mutant would dare to hunt the humans that lived there. The creatures that lived below, that scurried in the dark here were of a different sort. This was their territory, and as more and more began to pool in the street around him the boy realized just how different the society he had been thrust into truly was. The humans he had seen before had only been a fraction of the populace, and though the community they formed was bigger than Alexander had ever heard of, the bat like masters they served seemed to only inflate that number ever larger. Eventually his mother led the two of them to their destination. What was once a tall apartment building, had once again been repaired to suit its former purpose. Flapping fabric served to cover the shells of old windows, but most of the doorways were empty. Diana led her son up one set of stairs, half lifting him up the uneven walkway as she led him to their new home. Each room they passed was uniform, a small family unit gathering around a small flame, or sitting upon old dusty mattresses on the floor. The looks they got as they moved upwards varied from openly spiteful, to complete disregard. Alexander met each pair, his eyes drinking in and reflecting the emotions he encountered. Once he was out of the night and in the faintly lit building he began to feel much better. His panic began to subside, the fire light that filtered into the concrete hallways warming his spirit just as it warmed his flesh. Every angry gaze he got, was received with a grimace and a glare, Alexander¡¯s eyes narrowing as he sneered. Those that ignored him, he simply ignored as well, but by the time they had finally reached their destination on the top floor of the tower, he was sure he had already made some enemies among its other inhabitants. He had identified those he should be wary of almost immediately, catching a glimpse at the violence and desperation in their eyes. It was a trick Alexander had quickly picked up whenever foreign traders had come to visit their old home.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The individuals you had to be the most wary about were those who were open about their violent character, and when confronted with another person of their calibre didn¡¯t back down. Most people Alexander had returned a glare too, would flinch, turning away and back to their families. But there were a handful who kept his gaze, sizing him up with a hunger that would have chilled him to the bone if he hadn¡¯t been doing the very same. Alexander was quickly learning how the society around him worked. Every level was made up of predators. Those at the top preyed on those below them, the Others preying on any humans that wished to do so. Those who didn¡¯t want to become thralls had two choices. Either make themselves useful, or make others seem to be more tantalizing offers. Both required a stony heart, for either way you were dooming another. The gazes who had met his, that had challenged his came from those who had survived in the camp from doing just that. To live in this apartment building, to have a flame to cook their meager supplies on, they had earned it by ruining the lives of another human. And they knew it, and were sizing him up to do the same if needed. Those that looked away from him were at least ashamed about it, hiding their greed and survival instincts from the gaze of the boy. Alexander found himself respecting those who were openly distrustful and predatory towards him more, at least they were honest to themselves about it. The room Alexander found himself in was incredibly sparse. Three dirty mattresses were laid out on the ground, and they served as the only furniture. On the floor was a small metal bin that seemed to serve as the family¡¯s fire pit. Alexander could see his father gun laying propped up against the window, hidden only by the billowing fabric that served as a curtain. The air was filled with the smoke of the many other cooking fires, but the gentle wind that entered the room was enough to dissipate the worst of it. Muffled sounds of voices reached Alexander ears as both him and his mother made themselves comfortable, the boy pulling a mattress close to one window and placing himself upon it while his mother began to place some fuel upon the fire. A moment later and flickering light filled the room, soon followed by a sizzling noise as a skillet was placed over it. The two sat in silence as Diana began to cook their meal, using supplies pulled from the satchel she kept by her side. Strangely twisted root vegetables were sliced into chunks with a sharpened blade, a tiny package of meat added and filling the air with a rich scent. Alexander knew better than to ask what kind of meat it was. The answer, if he was even given it, wouldn¡¯t matter. He would still eat it. Meat was a luxury that couldn¡¯t be ignored no matter where it was sourced from. His travels in the dark when the first of the others had opened their markets had told him enough to know that he would probably hate the answer anyways. Lifting the fabric at the window slightly he peered out into the dark, the flickering light behind him illuminating the world around him. He was a dozen stories in the air, but the view he was given could hardly be described as enjoyable. Most of the buildings surrounding the building he inhabited were pitch black, but every so often he would see a flicker of light as either wind or action caused a curtain to stir. Soon his attention was turned from the buildings to the city streets below him, his eyes drawn to the action that seemed to be continually occurring there. Now that he was in the safety of the light he could study it more intently, his mind no longer panicked drinking in everything that met his eyes. He saw the patterns of the society forming below him, the groups operating together easily seen from on high. Guards patrolled the streets, heavily armed, and with a contingent of thralls, Alexander could see them hunting through the darkened streets. They searched every darkened corner and cranny, every opening that could hide a mutant cleared before they moved on. Every so often Alexander would hear a gunshot echoing off in the distance, though he never saw any of the guards in action from his window. The smallest portion of the market was also visible from his window, though he tried to avoid staring too long. The sight sickened him, and sent his stomach spirally with every moment spent gazing at it. In the darkness and at the distance he now observed from, he could only see the fuzziest shapes of those at the market but Alexander had seen them up close only minutes before. Thralls stood upon wooden stages, their vacant eyes peering out into the night as crying bids echoed around them. He had seen the bats selling them, the strange coins that had been exchanged as commerce was done. He saw men, women, and children led away with a gesture or a squeaking command, following their new masters into the dark. Diana called him, gesturing to the bowl of food she had scooped for him a few moments before, but had to stand and whack him on the back of his head as he ignored her. Almost dragging him away from the window she forced him to sit by the fire and eat with her in silence, both of them staring into the flames as they chewed on the tough meat. Footsteps would draw their attention away as a figure made his way into the room, dropping a heavy medical bag by the doorway as he did so. Alexander recognized the golden frames clamped around the figure¡¯s nose almost immediately, as his father joined the pair for dinner. Diana greeted the man with a warm smile, the fierce eyes that had been focused on her son melting as the man made his entrance. Alexander had never seen the man dressed like he was, the white fabric of the coat around his father¡¯s shoulders unnervingly close to the one Nicholas had worn. Black slacks covered the rest of his pale form, though the dirt that had once always been a part of the man¡¯s appearance had seemingly been washed away. The man mumbled something about being late, but soon made his way to his son¡¯s side. As reunions went, it was a much cooler affair. Alexander¡¯s eyes were hard, unfeeling as his father grinned. He brooded through the hug that was forced onto him, and tried to ignore the words that his father spoke. The boy still blamed his father for the situation they now found themselves in, but he felt his resolve shake slightly as the hands that gripped him tightened. Doctor Pisk shook softly as he held his child, words spilling from his mouth as he held his son in a tight hug, ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he whispered, ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have left you. I shouldn¡¯t have put you through that. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± It took some shoving, Alexander¡¯s arm working to extract himself from his father¡¯s embrace, to free the boy. The two stood, staring at each other. One set of eyes filled with tears and regret, though tinged with pride as he regarded his son. The other set filled with betrayal and angst, the potent rage of a son against his fool of a parent. The moment was broken as Diana swore, flicking a bit of root off one finger towards her son. The offending food stuff bounced off Alexander face harmless, though he winced, his mother¡¯s voice filling his ears a moment later, ¡°No attitude, we¡¯ve all been through a lot, I don¡¯t need you to be looking at your father like that. One more fuckin¡¯ thing for me to deal with.¡± Alexander pouted, a protest silenced by Diana a moment later as the family unit was once again restored. An hour later laughter filled the small room, Alexander telling and retelling his tale, his mother and father filling in their ends of the story. They discussed what happened that day, but all of them ignored the looming presence above their heads. They ignored their sons missing arm, just as they ignored their missing member. Though they grinned at each other, each registered the fear, the wariness, and the sadness in the other¡¯s eyes. The family was whole once again, minus one arm, freedom, and a six month old infant. Chapter Twelve: Sleep Walking Alexander lay awake that night, his eyes staring up at the ceiling as the noises of the world sank into the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn¡¯t sleep, the aching pain in his still healing wounds doing most of the work but the odd gunshot not making it any easier. Both of his parents had doused the fire shortly after the dinner and then crawled onto their own mattress. Both of them had worked hard that day, and though their reunion had given them some energy, that quickly ebbed away. His father¡¯s faint snores filled the main room, adding to the cries that echoed in the night, both of them succeeding in keeping Alexander wide awake. The low embers of the dying fire quelled the worst of his fear, heating the room and providing just enough dim light to reflect off of his brilliant blue eyes. The shapes it provided on the ceiling entertained him for a few minutes, but soon the boy felt his boredom rise. He couldn¡¯t sleep. And no matter how much he tried to force himself to do so, it only seemed to make the problem worse. Every activity his parents had taught him to employ in this situation simply didn¡¯t help. He counted the grooves in the ceiling, crafting stories and legends for each strange shape. He thought about all he had seen and done that day, but nothing seemed to tire him. He was worried about too much, anxious about too much. And the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach would not go away. Still he laid still for an hour or so, peering up at the ceiling and trying to slow him breathing, to trick his body into sleep, but at the end of that hour he was no closer to sleep. Eventually he slid from the mattress, discarding the ragged blanket he had been given. He silently made his way to the door, tip toeing around the lumpy figures of his parents, knowing that if his mother caught him he¡¯d be sent right back to the mattress under the window. Alexander didn¡¯t have a specific goal, nor did he even particularly want to leave the room, but the boredom had been getting to him. Giving his parents one last look he made his way into the building. Room after room he passed with similar scenes. Gathered families resting on flattened mattresses. Some still had their fires going, most did not. Not a soul stirred, the labour of the day before draining all in the apartment building of all they had. The faint sounds of human slumber met his ears as he descended downwards. Grumbling, grinding teeth, snoring, the chorus of a community at night. This deep in the halls of the building he couldn¡¯t quite hear any of the bats outside. He could almost fool himself into believing only humans inhabited this place. Eventually Alexander found another soul awake. The two had startled each other, one young form bumping into a much older one on a darkened stairway. Both let out gruff noises of discomfort, and both apologized before getting a good look at each other. To the man, Alexander was an odd sight. A boy without an arm, and a free one at that, was an extreme rarity among the humans. Most people with an injury like that would have found themselves as a thrall, or as a meal. The off blue hospital gown that still hung to his frame only barely covered the long intricately wrapped bandages that wound their way along every wound. Up one scraped leg, around one plastered ankle, before crisscrossing his chest. It was a strangely imposing sight. The injured boy was evidently important to be kept alive and receive treatment like this, and the repeated apology seemed much more sincere the second time. Alexander¡¯s gaze found a slender elderly man. A scraggly white beard ran down to the middle of the man¡¯s chest, obscuring many of the features on his wrinkled face. Brown eyes peered at the young boy ahead of him, once again worriedly apologizing for bumping into the child. The man¡¯s clothing was ragged and untidy, a greasy t-shirt tight to a scrawny frame paired with cut up shorts that barely reached past the man¡¯s knees. He was the oldest person Alexander had ever laid his eyes upon. Elderly were a rare sight in the wastes, the many years of hardship rarely left those weakened by the ravages of time alive. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± the man grumbled once again, tugging nervously on his fingers as he bowed his head half an inch. He obviously didn¡¯t know what to do with the child standing before him, and the look he got from the boy only heightened his nervousness. Alexander¡¯s gaze was stony and incredibly hard to read. The small bump he had received from the elderly man wasn¡¯t the cause of his apparent anger. No it was the way he had immediately switched to cowering before him. Any respect drilled into Alexander for his elders immediately vanished upon seeing the man almost grovel below him. The boy simply nodded at the apology, as if to say the man was forgiven, and began to move passed him. A bony hand hesitantly reached out to grip his shoulder, fingers much stronger than they should have been keeping him in place. The strength of the digits surprised Alexander as he slowly turned, meeting the gaze of the man once again. The emotion in those eyes hardened slowly, the fear and subservience that had found their home there melting as the fury of the old over took the man. Alexander had been moving forwards, attempting to get to the lowest level of the apartment. He and the man had bumped into each other on the steps of the building, one heading into the basement, the other heading out of it. Alexander had just been meaning to explore the entirety of the building that was now his home, but the hand gripping his shoulder held in place. ¡°What do you think you are doing?¡± the man hissed, his warning tone holding traces of his older apologies. If it had been anybody else they would have already been sent packing. The only reason Alexander was receiving this warning was because the man didn¡¯t know what to do with him. If it had been another boy of his age, they would have gotten a whack and been sent away the mere moment they had even looked towards the basement. Even taking a few steps towards them would have earned them a beating. The grip on Alexander¡¯s shoulder tightened again as the man¡¯s eyes narrowed, sizing up Alexander as his mouth thinned to a line. Alexander paused, once again the unfamiliar world he now found himself in leaving him at a loss. What was he doing? He was just exploring, checking out his surroundings. Even though the light of the building was low, it felt safe enough to do so. He couldn¡¯t sleep, he was bored, and he saw nothing wrong with what he was doing. But the response he was getting from the man he had encountered surprised him.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°I was just exploring,¡± he answered innocently. It was the truth, and he saw no reason to hide his intentions. ¡°Against the rules,¡± the man grumbled, all at once losing the apologetic tone he had once held. He now glared at the boy with the suspicion he saved for all the other free children that lived in the building. They were all trouble makers, and though the boy was swaddled in bandages, he was probably no different. ¡°Now git, before I¡¯m forced to whack you,¡± the man said raising the cane by his side threateningly, the smoothed wood tapping against the plaster of Alexander¡¯s cast. Alexander had always been one for rules. For respecting the things that kept him alive. From the lessons his parents taught him, to the community he had been brought up in, following the rules meant you had a better chance at living. The things the adults in his community taught him were for his own good, and he truly believed that. It only took a few stories, and more than a handful of examples, for the lessons to be drilled into his mind. You didn¡¯t break many rules when you saw what happened to kids who did. When you saw their bloody remains, or the injuries they sustained. But for the first time in his life, perhaps with all that had happened to him lately, the stress of it all weighing heavily at him, he bucked against those rules. Whereas normally Alexander would have heeded the warning of the man, the young teen instead grew angry. He grew rebellious towards the authority figure in front of him, and the change was swift in his demeanor. Alexander went from a curious child, to an angst ridden teen in a moment. A reminding tap against his encased leg seemed to set him off, the angry growl he produced in response filled with all the emotions he had held deep within him all day. Though seeing his family had allowed him to retain control, that control seemed to shatter the moment the cane had lightly tapped him. Instantly the sensation threw him back into much more painful moments. Memories of sensations much worse than that, of hard claws and grasping fingers erupted in Alexander¡¯s mind. Raising his arm he shoved the old man roughly, causing the frail figure to stumble backwards half a step allowing Alexander to slip by. The elderly man let out a surprised yelp, but found his balance quickly. He immediately took after the child, practiced feet taking step after step as he built up his pace. Alexander leaped the steps two at a time, feeling the strain on his injured ankle as he fought to outrun the now enraged man behind him. Swear words filled the air in between the two before bouncing off cold concrete. The air around Alexander cooled measurably as he left the surface behind him and descended into the depths of the basement. He could hear the shambling footsteps behind him, but knew he didn¡¯t have to run very far to make it to the next floor. He stumbled into the dark hallway without much fanfare. With the reaction of the man behind him he was sure there was some grand secret down on this level. Some precious treasure that needed to be protected. Some person or family that needed special protection. Something to warrant the angry swear words echoing about the stairwell behind him. Alexander was disappointed when he saw the hallway the stretched out before him. The empty concrete floor bare just like all the others above him. Nothing distinguished this floor from any of the ones above, save the decrease in temperature and ambient light. There were no windows leading outside on this floor, no flickering starlight. The only source of illumination came from a few dangling bundles of embers, tied to the wall in small little circular cages. The smoke they produced seemed to cling to everything, filling the air and spreading out along the floor. The smoke curled against Alexander¡¯s leg as he took a step forwards, shambling into the hallway and away from the still thumping footsteps behind him. He kept up his rapid pace moving deeper into the floor, only for a panicked yell to reach his ears. Glancing backwards for only a moment he saw the face of the man he had shoved seconds ago, eyes wide and with his hands extended, calling the boy back to him. Gone was the anger, gone was the swear words. As soon as he had seen the boy deep in the hallway all that had dropped from him. The old man had resumed his pathetic state, adopting an almost begging tone to his voice as he called Alexander backwards. Alexander turned back to the long hallway once again almost immediately. He ignore the plaintive cries behind him as he reached the first doorway on his path. Glancing inside he observed the picture before him with angry curiosity burning within him. He wanted to know why this damn floor was so important to the man, and why he had been stopped from going there so ineffectually. The scene he saw made the boy freeze in horror. The eyes that turned to stare at him were of two kinds. The empty sets of the thralls, and the predatory gaze of those who fed upon them. The floor of the room was littered with luxurious pillows and sheets, the type that Alexander would never have been able to dream of. They looked so incredibly comfortable, and the blank eyed humans that relaxed upon them seemed to revel in their lush softness. To each thrall a bat was paired. Stretched out on pillows, or arranged in some strange standing manner, a dozen golden eyes turned to regard him. Teeth stained with blood grew to strange grimaces as their meal was disturbed. Thralls with chunks of their flesh missing were dropped into bloody piles, only to stand a moment later and begin to tend to their wounds. The scars that littered their bodies showed just how much had been taken from them. One shirtless man had a large scar covering the bicep of one arm. Alexander wouldn¡¯t have recognized the pattern if he had not seen a mirrored bite mark still fresh and bleeding on the other. The strange language he had heard snippets of flickered in between sharp toothed mouth and flapping bat like ears as the creatures before him talked to one another. One made a shooing motion with one hand, as though that would be enough to free him from the terrified stupor that clung to his bones. Alexander could only stare as one of the bats shrugged, laughing in their strange tone, before sinking it¡¯s fangs once again into the thrall beside it. Blood was slurped, flesh was chewed, and Alexander¡¯s face grew paler by the moment. It was only the strong hand that gripped his shoulder from behind that shook him back into reality. The old man regarded the boy with a knowing look, one horrific experience met with the eyes of someone who had seen worse, and slowly brought the boy back to the stairwell. ¡°Out, that¡¯s the rule,¡± the man grumbled as he shunted the boy back upwards, pushing him away from the horrors below. Alexander nodded, once again understanding why a child should follow the rules as he made his way back up the steps. It was a long journey, and one that he took incredibly slowly. Alexander played the scene back in his mind multiple times, hovering over every gory detail. As he crept into the ragged blanket and mattress that served as his bed, he knew sleep would not come any easier than it would have before his journey into the night. One detail kept creeping into his mind as he lay awake. It wasn¡¯t the seamless way the razor like teeth had slid into human flesh. It wasn¡¯t the entranced expression of both the bats and the thralls they fed upon. It was the simple fact that for a moment, for a second, before they had dropped their meals and began speaking to each other, the bats and that room had the same expression of the one he had met just the day before. Their cousin in the tunnels. The hunger. The joy. The enjoyment of another¡¯s suffering, had once again been directed towards him. Chapter Thirteen: Assistant Alexander awoke slowly. It took a lot of prompting, and some light kicking from his mother to get him to awaken. Slowly he brought his hands to his groggy eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as a small breakfast was prepared. Merely the leftovers from the night before the meal would be short and without the fanfare of the night before. Now that the family was once again together they would slowly slide into their patterns once again. The only difference Alexander noted was the absence of his father. Normally the unit stayed together until Alexander and his father left for the daily hunt. The disappearance of the man simply meant that wouldn¡¯t be happening this morning. Alexander doubted it would ever happen again. The gun that his father had carried faithfully for years lay against the windowsill, gathering dust and soaking in the morning light as Alexander scarfed down the meager breakfast his mother forced into his hands. The events of the night before seemed more like a dream to Alexander. A nightmare that haunted his waking moments. For a moment he could delude himself into thinking what he had scene were just some kind of illusion. But the disgust that had settled deep within him prevented him from buying into that delusion. No matter how much he wished it to not be true, he knew what he had seen. He had always known the reason behind the thralls. Alexander could piece it together by the way they were treated. How they had been sold in the markets like little more than cattle at times. That didn¡¯t prepare him for the encounter he had faced the night before. He had come face to face with the horrors hidden beneath his new home, scraped away the veneer and peered into the gloom that made it all possible. The aversion he faced was a deep seated emotion, and it made itself apparent in the very food he ate. Every bite reminded him of the bites he had seen, every crunch, every sensation of the meat in his mouth disgusted him. Still he ate, forcing his emotions downwards. Despite the disgust he now felt he would never turn down food. He powered through the remembered scenes and finished the bowl handed to him. Even finishing of the scraps that his mother offered him as seconds. He and his body needed fuel for whatever happened that day. Shortly after the last of the nutrients had been licked clean from his bowl, his mother stood and got herself ready for the day. Hair was once again pulled behind her head, greasy coveralls pulled over only moderately less greasy clothing. Alexander moved to join her, but Diana waved at him to stop. ¡°You can¡¯t follow me today,¡± she said flatly, her eyes peering at him. ¡°I¡¯ve got work to do and you¡¯ll get in the way.¡± She paused as if thinking about her next words carefully. Only because of the weight they would hold as she assigned his tasks for the day. Something that Alexander had come to expect in his daily life. His parents had always told him what to do from the moment he had awakened to the moment he had slept. There was always a certain amount of free time, but it was regimented, and the list of chores he was always given incredibly lengthy. It was needed to keep everything organized, regimented and controlled in their world. A kid couldn¡¯t be allowed their own freedom, too much was at stake. ¡°I need you to go back to the clinic. Nicholas made a deal with your father and you have to hold up your part of it.¡± Another pause filled the air as she hesitated again, weakness leaking through her hardened exterior as she stared at her son. ¡°And, see what you can do about Macy. Your father has been doing what he can, but you know how he can be.¡± Alexander honestly wasn¡¯t sure what his mother meant by that, but nodded nonetheless. It was the first time his mother had mentioned his younger sister, and the boy could see the tension it created in her eyes. He assumed it was similar to how she had looked the night of his experience, taught and nervous. Worried and emotional. With a violent shake, all of that disappeared from her frame. She shoved it deep inside of herself, locking it away as she strapped the last of her tools to her belt with a nod. The hard line of her chin suggested her focus was back onto the work assigned to her that day. It was only the lingering frown that twitched at the corners of her mouth that hinted otherwise. When she stepped from the room a moment later Alexander was left alone. The dark circles under his eyes received another rub before he too followed. His descent down the steps was uneventful, the gathering humans stepping around him as he moved. The glower on his face, and the confident way he walked made even the children hesitant to cross his path this early in the morning. The ground floor was almost empty, the exception coming in the form of a face that Alexander didn¡¯t want to acknowledge. An elderly man switching his shift with a much larger man. The old replaced with the new as Alexander passed them both by. The old man attempted to catch his eye but gave up a moment later, noticing the pointed way the boy seemed to turn away from him. The old man had seen that look many times before. Alexander wasn¡¯t the only person to ever get passed the elderly guardian and into the depths bellow. The truth was already a known factor, but that never seemed to effect the people that came back up the stairs. They always seemed to be more reserved. Quiet, as though they were suddenly aware of some terrible secret. In many ways they were. Only that secret was a well-known fact. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Alexander was the exception in that his disgust seemed to be the prominent emotion that gripped the boy. Most came stumbling up the stairs in a state of panic. Afraid they would be next, or that the fate they would all receive would come quicker because of what they now knew. Alexander was an exception simply because he had faced something like what he had seen before. He had faced it and gotten away, and even now as he passed into the dawn he didn¡¯t doubt his ability to do so again. The teenage boy conveniently forgot that his last escape had cost him an arm, and the freedom of his family. But that was just his very special brand of hubris. The route Alexander took back to the clinic was a circuitous one. He wasted as much time as he thought he could get away with. He explored, introduced himself to the neighbours with a customary glare, and generally just made sure he would be late on his first day. When he finally made it to the clinic, he saw a familiar face waiting for him. Nicholas in all his bat like terror, stood waiting outside the large metal doors. Lab coat freshly cleaned of all but the hardest to get rid of blood stains, the creature waved the boy over. Hissing under his breath he spoke, waving the thrall by his side over. ¡°Take the fucking umbrella from this idiot, he can¡¯t hold it right.¡± Nicholas grumbled, his eyes wincing closed as the thrall shuddered into movement. The umbrella hung over the bat beside him, shading him from the worst of the light, though Nicholas was right. The thrall was doing a horrible job at it. Every time the bat moved, it would take quite the long time for the slave beside him to follow. Every wave of his hands or step forwards brought the creatures frame into the sun, obviously something he was trying to avoid. The day they had found themselves in was quite the welcome change to Alexander. The air was cool, the wind only making it that much more so as it whipped down the busy streets. The sun was low, the dawn still brightening the day, but with no clouds in sight Alexander knew it would be a good one. A day without clouds was a rarity, as the damp ground at his feet would attest too. Alexander didn¡¯t know the reasoning behind it, but he had heard enough complaining from his parents to note the difference in the land they now inhabited. Compared to the past, before the weapons, it rained a lot more frequently. The rain was harsh, tainted and foul, and it seemed to almost be a constant state. A day like today was a rarity, but a welcome one. It would dry the ground out some, burn away the worst of the green mist, and did wonder to heighten Alexander¡¯s mood. Nicholas on the other hand hated it. Sunlight made his kind nauseous, it burned their skin slightly and was overall a horrible experience. When it was overcast it was bearable, but when the clouds parted and the sun finally reached the earth in all its glory the effect was distracting and uncomfortable. Whenever the thrall hesitated or was slow to move the black umbrella it held, Nicholas was reminded of that fact. The creature was grateful when Alexander followed his orders, only to regret trusting the boy a moment later. The umbrella was immediately moved from a slow but compliant hand, to a rebellious but quick one. No sooner had the shade steadied over the pale form of the bat, then it had been robbed from him. It was yanked cruelly away, bathing Nicholas immediately in light. The swearing that followed brightened Alexander¡¯s mood further, the small bit of revenge for last night against the creatures species cheering him up immensely. The smallest victory, even though it was petty and cruel, grew his smile. Alexander eventually began to perform his job admirably, covering the bat better than any thrall could, but the threat was very apparent. Though Nicholas wasn¡¯t happy about it, and though he knew he should punish the boy, he also knew that that would only open him up to much more discomfort. The small act of rebellion was annoying, but Nicholas could deal with it. The boy did deliver, and maintained the umbrella above the beasts head as they walked so perhaps it was a good trade. As they moved Nicholas explained what they were doing, the rounds they would take and the route they would move along. Alexander soon found himself interested, though only because he was almost akin to a hostage. He couldn¡¯t escape the situation without being punished. He didn¡¯t know what his parents would do, or even what his new benefactor would do, but Alexander knew it wouldn¡¯t be very good. So because he was forced to listen to Nicholas speak, he was forced to find it interesting. It was either that or spend the entire day in boredom, which Alexander was beginning to dread as his duties were explained to him. Nicholas was something like a doctor. Similar to his father in many ways, but at a much smaller level. The two of them would go about the camp, tend to small issues, heal and fix what they could, before moving on. Nicholas had trained for many years, and was adept at diagnosing and medicating both humans and bat, but he needed a capable assistant. He needed someone that could achieve what a thrall could not, but he had never had the rank to request a free human. Until the creature had volunteered to rescue Alexander. Though human society in the camp was stratified, and always below the creatures that ruled them, it paled in comparison to the politics of those above them. Nicholas, who by his species standards was very young, had chosen a profession that came with little in the way of perks. There were many creatures above him in rank and sway, and even those at his level seemed to push the creature around quite a bit. The one who had donated its blood to him had been of a similar rank, so he drew no benefits from his lineage either. Every thrall Nicholas had, every privilege earned, had been gained the hard way. So while he berated the boy, insulted him and swore at him under his breath, he would never give him up. He had earned the right to an assistant, through blood and grit, and he would never give that up. Even if his new assistant was being an insufferable git. The pair moved off towards their first patient of the day. Nicholas had a plan for Alexander, a plan for his knew assistant. Alexander would be taught the medicines he would be administering. He would be given instruction on how to mend a bone, even as his mended. He would be told how to amputate a limb. Which drugs to give to which thralls to keep them pliant. Which signs were benign, and which signalled the beginning of a mutation. Alexander would become his apprentice, and begin the road to becoming a doctor just like Nicholas had once done. He would serve his new bat master well, or he would be enthralled and pawned off. The first thing he had been taught had been proper umbrella form, which seemed to escape him quite often as the two made their way into the bright light that now bathed them. Chapter Fourteen: A Promise If Alexander thought his day would be easy, the first patient he encountered shattered that delusion. He had seen his dad work in the past, tending to patients had never seemed to be a very difficult task. You asked them how they felt, if anything had changed in their recent patterns, and you seemingly pulled a diagnosis from thin air. Most of the time the source of their discomfort was quite obvious. A leg bent at a wrong angle, a large slash mark across their chest, a strange tinge to their skin. Alexander had even helped his father, or at least been around to perform some small task. Handing him tools or chemicals, allowing the man to focus on his work. Alexander had been expecting the same with Nicholas. He would barely have to pay attention, and would only need to focus on whatever small task was handed to him. He quickly learned the bat had a different idea of their relationship. The first patient the visited was a thrall. A middle aged woman with an arm bent out of place, seemingly from an accident at work the day before. Nicholas talked to the free man who stood next to her, presumably the foreman that had led to her injury in the first place. He asked a few pointed questions, and made his payment very clear to the man beforehand. Whoever reigned over the crew of workers, whichever bat had the free man under his sway, would have to pay Nicholas a certain sum. It was a type of blackmail, and a complicated one. Evidently the true master and customer wasn¡¯t available for negotiations, so he left it to his human aide. Nicholas could not ask for too much, or he would simply be turned away. Even though the man had called and set up the meeting the night before, Nicholas wasn¡¯t the only bat skilled in healing. Many others lived not too far away, and if the price was too high the man would simply call another. They could not discuss the price very much either. The human Nicholas was talking too only had access to a small amount of funds, and was not trusted to deal with anything larger. Any wavering on the price was closely monitored, as the free man knew if he made a mistake here his master would be very displeased. Alexander was unused to the negotiation before him. Terms he was unaware of were tossed about. Prices were not in physical goods, but in coins. Before this Alexander had never had any contact with money. Nobody in the wastes had much use for it. Physical goods were all that held value. Sure you could always find someone who would willingly trade something useful for some kind of bauble or trinket, but to Alexander those people were idiots. The only meaningful trade was done between people with equal use to each other. A doctor would heal for few meals. A hunter would trade part of a deer for a few bullets. Everything had to have a use. So when Nicholas agreed to a price of five gold coins, Alexander visibly grew confused. He had no frame of reference, and though he had seen some trading in the market with the currency, he wasn¡¯t sure why Nicholas would even bother with it. He didn¡¯t know that the price that had been agreed upon was a bargain, and that Nicholas had been playing a very deft political game the entire discussion. Nicholas couldn¡¯t afford to offend those above him in the hierarchy. He couldn¡¯t afford to ask them to pay exorbitant amounts for his services, not only because they probably wouldn¡¯t pay him. It could be seen as rude, or offensive. And though surely the bat who led the crew of thralls wasn¡¯t that much higher than Nicholas, an offense was never something done lightly. A bargain on the other hand, could be seen as a favour. Something that could be called upon at a later date. So while Alexander found himself bored and confused, Nicholas played a dangerous game. He sold his services at a price that would help him the most in the confusing web that surrounded them. Camp politics was something the young creature was already steeped in. He needed to be if he ever wanted to move upwards. Once the price was agreed upon, Nicholas and Alexander got to work. Nicholas taught as he tended, and refused to do things twice. He asked for tools and supplies from Alexander, and growled whenever the boy made a mistake. He asked for something once, held out a hand, and expected it to be within his grasp a moment later. Alexander soon found himself enjoying the dynamic. It was almost a game, the object simple enough. All he had to do was try to predict what tool the creature wanted before Nicholas extended his hand to receive it. Alexander even got quite good at it, earning an appreciative grunt from the creature whenever he succeeded. His eyes watching the nimble claws sliding a joint back into a socket, even as his hand worked its way into the bag in search for the next tool he expected the creature would need. When they finished with the thrall, they moved on without another word. The next patient had a similar injury, and by now Alexander had a good idea of the system. He noted the finer details that Nicholas performed, handing him what he needed almost before the creature could ask for them. Alexander discovered he almost had a knack for this kind of work. Maybe it was the experiences he¡¯d had with his father training him to do this, or similar work when his mother worked on cars, but he slowly discovered his skill at it.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Alexander found some small pleasure in it as well. In watching a human slowly being repaired and brought to full strength. Broken bones, dislocated shoulders, pain in one body part or another, small things that seemed to always pile up in the world that surrounded him. That he had any positive influence at all over the world was something he found himself enjoying. He could ignore the creature teaching him, he could push away horrible memories, as long as he kept to his work. As long as he continued to learn. That feeling disappeared the moment they made their way to their third patient that day. Nicholas and the foreman there seemingly argued for ages, the blank eyed thrall sitting between them in a state that made Alexander wince. The poor man¡¯s leg was completely mangled. A gory stump barely held onto the frayed remnants of a shin bone. A half done bandage was wrapped around the end of the stump, still leaking a deep coagulated mush that seems only to seep into the dusty ground below him. That the man had even survived the night with an injury like that was a miracle, and one that Nicholas wasn¡¯t happy about. The price he kept repeating was evidently too high. The man would not agree to it. The thrall sat with his life on the line, impassive as ever. He simply didn¡¯t seem to acknowledge the wound on his leg. His blank eyes merely stared out into the street as his fellows worked behind him. Nicholas repeated every little thing that could go wrong, every part of the man¡¯s injury that needed to be fixed, but the foreman kept shaking his head. Alexander simply looked on with an expressionless face. A deep, brooding anger started to form within him at the scene playing out. It was directed towards all involved. He hated Nicholas for being stubborn. The bat was dealing with a human life here, and had the tools and skills to save it. But he was refusing to do so. He wanted a certain price, and was sticking to it. He deemed the thrall below him not worth his time unless he was paid to care otherwise. The work he was doing to fix and repair the world, something Alexander had begun to enjoy now seemed rotten to him. The fixes a taint that seemed to only make the world worse now. Alexander also hated the foreman for even debating the price. He too was putting a human life on the line, simply debating the price was doing so. Alexander could see it in the burly man¡¯s eyes. A cool calculation as he weighed the life beside him. Whether the price was even worth it for a now less useful thrall. Both Nicholas and the foreman were regarding the situation as though everything involved was just a number. A probability of success and profit. Alexander also knew that the man was only doing this to save his own hide. He knew that if he displeased the bat above him, he may just as well be the next patient on the list. It was a mix of self-preservation and greed that ran through both of the entities, and Alexander despised it. His hate didn¡¯t stop there, as he regarded the thrall in much the same way. He viewed the bleeding human as a willing participant in the situation that he now found himself in. The human was only injured because he had pathetically joined up in a society that allowed it. His parents made the same choice, and as Alexander viewed the man below him he grew angry at that decision once more. Human life meant nothing in the camp that surrounded him. In fact it didn¡¯t mean anything anywhere in the wastes. Alexander had watched families slowly starve. He had seen people shot, or exiled for mistakes that could be easily solved. He watched people fight over small differences in the muddy hell that they now called home. The thrall below him was just another casualty of a world that no longer cared about humans. It was a symbol of that world, a representation of what Alexander found himself growing to despise. When Nicholas turned and left the thrall to his fate, Alexander was left with a sickening taste in his mouth. The joy that he had gained from healing, from tending to the wounded was tainted now. A gross sensation that seemed to grip him at every point in his body. It didn¡¯t abate when the moved onto the next patient, or the one after that. Alexander had only been in the camp for a little over a day, and the experiences he¡¯d had already had ruined it for him. He didn¡¯t see what his parents saw. He didn¡¯t see the safety that the community offered. He didn¡¯t see the order or the stability in a chaotic world. He didn¡¯t see it as an oasis of civilization, of salvation to many. He didn¡¯t see the hundreds of humans around him, all living together without fear of the mutants around them. No, what Alexander saw was a dystopia. A system that crushed and feasted upon the very humans it cultivated. Where his parents saw their only chance to save him, he saw the doom they had thrust him into. Alexander saw his loss of independence in very real terms. He saw the crushing weight of all the humans around him, the responsibility and culpability ruining everything that they said they stood for. Everyone else, including his parents, in this camp had been worn down. They had once been proud, wild, and independent. But the price of that life cursed them and made them weak. It forced them to turn to another, to living in this horror. They had been tamed, because life was easier that way. They gave up their wings and allowed themselves to be fed and tended too. Alexander grit his teeth as he and Nicholas moved down the street. In that moment he made a promise to himself. A vow, that he would never lower himself to their level. That he would never find himself as that thrall. That the society he found himself in would not crush him. It would not tame him. It could not. As he left the thrall behind him, he left all chances of a peaceful life behind as well. A life without pain or strife, a quiet, civilized life was now out of his reach. He would not allow himself to buy into the lie that surrounded him. Stopping suddenly, he forced the umbrella to barely shade Nicholas, prompting the bat to look at him. Eye¡¯s narrowed as the creature noticed the boy¡¯s expression, before it spoke, ¡°What?¡± ¡°My sister.¡± Alexander began, struggling to keep his anger in check, ¡°Where is my sister.¡± Chapter Fifteen: Matron Nicholas took the request alarmingly well. Alexander was expecting some push back, or just to be denied immediately. Instead of a harsh word, or a poignant silence, the bat just let out a snickering laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to her,¡± the creature said which caused the mood to swiftly change. Alexander had been tense up to that moment, every muscle in his body taught and ready to enforce the demanding tone he had used. He had been expecting a fight. Seeing how Nicholas had enacted his business just made the boy angry. It made it hard to hold back his emotions. Alexander¡¯s face had been curled into a snarl when he had shifted the umbrella. Now he just regarded the short creature with a look of pure astonishment. He had been expecting the worst. That his sister would be out of his reach. That he would need to scream or tear at Nicholas to get to her. Instead the bat just moved in a slightly different direction, prompting the boy to follow him with a wave of one hand. ¡°I needed to go there anyways, the nursery is one of my clients. One of the younglings is sick, didn¡¯t take to the tests very well.¡± Nicholas clicked his teeth together, apparently annoyed by the notion. Alexander simply nodded, quickening his pace to keep the creature happy. Now that he was heading toward his goal the rebellion that had been brewing with him cooled, and he began to act like the perfect assistant. Once again he settled into his adopted role, predicting the bat¡¯s movements and making sure the creature would be covered by ample shade. The building Alexander was led too wasn¡¯t outwardly different than any other. The scarred grey concrete walls loomed over the street like an unmarked grave. The shade it cast was deep and dark, and the two bats that stood in front of the large wooden doors needed no other protection. The two creature stood tall, their shoulders meeting the level of Alexander¡¯s as the regarded the two entities approaching them. Nicholas squeaked and spoke to them in their shared strange language, gesturing towards Alexander once. The two by the door simply shrugged, glancing at each other before nodding. They saw no harm in allowing the young boy to enter. Alexander on the other hand eyed them warily. He had yet to see any of the bats in their combat gear. The metal armor that twisted around the two guards was riddled with ornamental pieces. A shinier metal glittered and ran along the joints and curves creating intricate patterns and images. The prevailing visuals seemed to be of plants, vines and leaves twisting around every inch of their form. Alexander had never seen anything made this lavishly. Everything in the wastes was practical. Both in appearance and in use. You didn¡¯t make something useless that looked good when the resources to do so were in short supply. Alexander saw the beautiful designs, the art pieces from a forgotten era, and his eyes narrowed in disgust. In the effort to create such awe inspiring armor pieces a good smith could have created a dozen drab ones. To a boy who had only lived with shortages, the opulence was disgusting. It didn¡¯t matter how good they looked, and if they served their purpose or not. It was a waste. A waste of precious time, effort, and knowing these creatures, human life. The two guards viewed the boy with curiosity and boredom. Alexander viewed them with barely concealed hostility. One of the pair noticed with a laugh, nudging their partner and calling their attention to it as well. Nicholas shouldered open the door just as Alexander noticed the two guards beginning to mock him. Clenching his fingers together into a fist the boy made his way into the building behind Nicholas. The behaviour of the two guards could be ignored in the face of figuring out what had happened to his sister. His pride would have to take the hit, not that he could do much of anything. Alexander dismissed the guards without a thought, just as they had done to him. He had done so out of urgency, paying them no mind simply because he was focused on something else. The pair guarding the door had a myriad of reasons to dismiss Alexander. The two ancient pair had been guards longer than Alexander or his parents had existed. They had trained and fought in ages much worse than the one they now found themselves in. In an earlier time the aggression that they had spotted one Alexander¡¯s face would have made them pause. Now it just made them laugh. They had killed so many that expressions like that no longer carried any threat. They had grown callous and indifferent to the role they now found themselves in. They regarded Alexander just like they regarded the ants that crawled beneath their feet. In fact they worried about the ants more. At least those pesky little creatures could potentially be annoying to deal with. If an ant became a problem it would at least take them some time to deal with it. Alexander didn¡¯t have the same luxury. The dark corridors that Alexander found himself enclosed by gave him an eerie feeling. For a place that supposedly held young children he saw no sign of them. No laughter, no joy echoed about the hard corridors. That would have been worrying on its own, but there was no crying either. No sounds of distress or terror. Just a long, dead and silent hallway that supposedly held children. If Nicholas hadn¡¯t kept his calm pace Alexander would have thought something was certainly wrong. Instead the bat led them deeper into the building leaving the sunlight behind them. Eventually Alexander began to see signs of life. Scrambling noises from behind closed doors, medical clipboards with intelligible writing clipped into place. ¡°Younglings,¡± Nicholas mumbled when he saw the direction Alexander¡¯s gaze had lingered. ¡°Kids going through the change are kept there until they can be reasoned with. Most who are given our blood simply shrug it off. They stay human. Some take a liking to it and begin to change.¡± ¡°My sister?¡± Alexander asked, glancing at the doorways with a renewed interest newly armed with the knowledge of what the contained. He dreaded the answer, because he didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d do if he got it. What would he do if his sister became one of those creatures?If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Could he hold onto the festering hate brewing within him if his sister became one of them? Could he continue his inner rebellion? ¡°She didn¡¯t react. But we need to hold her for further testing. We are not the only change that can occur in children.¡± Nicholas simply stated, immediately cooling Alexander¡¯s rapidly racing heart. Alexander also knew what he was referencing. It was about his sister¡¯s age when mutations truly began to set in. Children who had been healthy smiling babies, could rapidly devolve into slathering beasts in the span of a few weeks. It was the greatest fear of any parent for their child to wake one day with one of the signs. Miscoloured eyes. Hardened fingernails. Misshapen bones. The signs were well known and haunted every sleeping moment that mothers and fathers managed to sneak. Alexander had been one of the lucky children. He had not only survived infancy, he had begun to enter his teens. He was among the first generation to be born into the wastes, and survive them. There were only a handful of children older than him still living on earth. Years had gone by without a successful birth, the environment stunting and culling most of the children before they ever came of age. What mutation didn¡¯t corrupt, mutant ate. What starvation didn¡¯t snuff, starving parents did. Alexander didn¡¯t know it, as did no one around him, but he was one among the smallest number of humans. Children born in the worst times humanity had ever encountered that had survived. His sister was separate from him entirely. She had been born in a small village, with a meager food supply. Alexander had been conceived in a chaotic starving bunker. Cut off from the world and barely alive. His first years had been a frantic escape from the bunker, a battle fought with crude weapons between hands meant to heal and fix and those that wanted them dead. Alexander had seen death the first moment he had opened his eyes, his cries echoing around the darkened room that his father had killed to own. Blood had seeped into his first pair of clothing, a pair Diana had stolen from another couple. His life had been bought with the death and pain his parents had caused. His sister¡¯s had been bought with the good will they had earned as the world cooled. As the flames died down and people left their isolated shelters, the good in people began to surface once again. Nicholas led Alexander into a large room pushing the door open with one hand and finally allowing the boy his first glimpse of his sister. The small girl was swaddled in a dirty cloth, sitting in a small circle with other similarly cared for children. They varied in ages, from the barely a day old, to the stumpy and clumsy toddlers. They all sat in a loose circle with a bat in the centre. Clad in a white robe the creature cooed and called each of the young human¡¯s attention to it. Alexander felt a fist thump him in the stomach as he took a step into the room, Nicholas stopping him at the threshold. ¡°Wait,¡± the bat hissed in warning as he watched the assembled children. His eyes were hawkish, staring at each child gathered in turn. Alexander could see the gears turning in the creatures head as it observed each, categorizing them and organizing his observations. ¡°Look, you¡¯ll need to do this yourself if you¡¯re going to be half competent. See the signs?¡± Nicholas hissed, pointing one boney finger towards the gathered children. Alexander narrowed his eyes, giving the bat an angry look before turning to the children. One by one he copied Nicholas. Eyeing each young child carefully, before moving onwards to the next. He nodded to himself, noting each one that he cleared before pausing. His face paled as he noticed the child that Nicholas had evidently seen. The toddler was apart from the others, his head hung low. He wasn¡¯t paying attention to the bat before him, unlike the others. His skin was tinged a shade of green, which though a sign of sickness, hinted at worse. Every flickering movement of the child¡¯s eyes seemed distant, but every clench of his small hands burned with an intensity that Alexander recognized. It was the same sensation that he had seen in the claws burying their way into the metal shell of the car. The strength in those fingers, in the bent muscles and twisted bones underneath, was visible even at this distance. Alexander pointed his finger at the child, prompting a dejected sigh from the bat at his side. ¡°Yes. If you can even see it¡­well it¡¯s a shame. Young Thomas looked to be fighting it off. Poor child.¡± For the first time Alexander found himself wholeheartedly agreeing with the beast at his side. He felt a twinge of emotion tug at his heartstrings as he stared at the dopey child. The child already well on the path to becoming a horrific creature. With a high pitched squeal Nicholas addressed the creature in the center of the circle, gesturing with a short nod at Thomas. Sighing the figure shrugged their white flowing robes exaggerating the movement. It called the assembled children¡¯s attention to it a moment later with another cooing noise, Macy giggling along with the others as Thomas continued his dull swaying. Nicholas grunted, glancing at Alexander before whispering. ¡°You have seen your sister. She is going through the same process as young Thomas. Let the matron continue her work, your sister is safe here.¡± Alexander frowned, gazing at the mutating boy once again, ¡°How long until she is home?¡± The boy was aware of the danger the aberration in their midst was. He knew just how quickly a child could turn, and he wanted his sister to be as far away as possible when that occurred. ¡°Week or so. She will have to submit to weekly checkups but most that are cleared do not come back. Which is why poor Thomas is such a strange outlier. Would have been a good thrall, strong kid.¡± Nicholas paused before shrugging, ¡°His parents will be informed.¡± Alexander grunted, a sour taste in his mouth forming at the mention of the thralls. He knew better than to think that Nicholas actually cared for the child, but still the mention of what Thomas¡¯s future would have been ruined the mood. The matron glanced upwards, her golden eyes catching Alexander¡¯s for a moment, before digging into him. Alexander could feel her gaze roaming across the skin of his face, reading it and the emotion held within. He could sense her attention on him, burning and scalding as he shuffled from foot to foot. A chirping noise filled the small room as the bat spoke, calling Nicholas¡¯s attention back to her. What followed was a rapid set of noises Alexander could not follow. Despite being exposed to this language for hours, Alexander had yet to even memorize a single meaning. The exchange grew heated a moment later, Nicholas spitting his words out with a barely concealed fury, before gesturing wildly at Alexander. Speaking suddenly in English, the anger was still rich in Nicholas¡¯s voice, ¡°She wants to know if you were checked for our blood. I told her no, and that you were too old. The change needs time to stick and works its way through the body. It needs to be administered in a time of great change for the body. She said it was a shame and that you would have made a fine addition to our family. Your sister almost crossed the threshold, she¡¯s sure a first blood would have been strong enough to do so. She asked if she could try, and I told her to fuck off. If given to you now it¡¯d kill you. Not letting her do that, you cost me too much.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± grumbled Alexander, following Nicholas as the bat made his way back towards the exit of the building. Chapter Sixteen: Inner Fire The rest of the day was spent much like the first half was. Travelling from work site to work site, healing when the price was agreed upon, leaving when it wasn¡¯t. Alexander knew there wasn¡¯t much he could do to modify the process at this point but it still sickened him. Every person they healed only seemed to make the wound rawer. He saw how easy it was, how little effort it seemingly took Nicholas to fix some of the issues that seemed to plague the camp. Half the time it was just a prescription for some type of chemical. A scribbled note, a quick jot in a notebook and then they moved onwards. Alexander already could see the pattern forming, and though he had only begun his training with the creature he already felt he could have done a better job. He had no way of knowing the intricacies that Nicholas performed with every action. The risks the bat took upon himself with every decision or the calculation that ran through his pale head. To Alexander the job he was watching and assisting was one of the easiest on the planet. He didn¡¯t know about the myriad of ways a treatment could go wrong. He didn¡¯t know or account for other substance of effects the thrall might be under. From his perspective it just seemed to be writing out the same set of words. It didn¡¯t come with the danger of hunting. It didn¡¯t involve the back breaking weights of a labourer. It was simple. You saw some issue involving a human of some sort, and then you fixed it. Your work seemingly consisted of a few short words and a minute or two of scribbling. Still he found himself learning some things. He saw the various treatments as they were assigned, and by the end of the day had learned the basics of care. His father had already taught him how to stitch a wound and how to set a bone but only what was necessary for the small wounds the family had acquired. With the many wounds the seemingly unending labor the camp provided those basic lessons were soon put to the test. With Nicholas¡¯s guiding hand eventually Alexander was directly involved in a few of the treatments. With one shaking hand he would handle the needle as the bat beside him held the wound shut. Thin twine was pushed and pulled through skin sealing a long gash on one woman¡¯s hand. No signs of pain registered on the thrall¡¯s face as Alexander worked, her stone like face peering forwards as though he didn¡¯t even exist. When he was done the foreman pulled her away and set her to work on the same machine that had injured her hours before. When night began to fall a handful of small coins was shoved into the boy¡¯s. Payment for a day¡¯s work that wasn¡¯t necessarily required. Nicholas was happy with his new acquisition. Proud of his skill at teaching, and all together overjoyed with how this was turning out. With Alexander working underneath him the bat¡¯s workload would be lightened immensely. That meant more patients, more money, more favours gained. He could already see his sway in the camp growing, and could feel the benefits that would buy him. He split from the boy with a wide grin upon his face. Alexander on the other hand was gloomy. The money in his hand felt heavy, the small coins weighing his singular arm down more than any weight had ever done so. The knowledge that came with the coin lay heavy on his shoulders. What he had seen, what he had done at Nicholas¡¯s side was abhorrent to the boy. The people he had ignored twisted at his insides. He hated his own part that he played and replayed his earlier promises to himself, doubling down on his decisions. He would not let this society corrupt him. Despite that promise by the time he returned home that night a pattern had already been set for him. The next few days were much the same. Work by day, talking and chatting with his parents by night. Asking his father about what he had learned, adding to his own knowledge which he would then apply to Nicholas¡¯s delight the next chance offered him. Diana worked in the auto shop, returning home shortly after her son with a thick layer of grime and oil. Her smile never wavered, as though she had finally found her slot in the world. Alexander¡¯s father was much the same. The meals they shared together seemed to be filled with joy. The safety of the camp leeched at them, and to Alexander it was making them soft. His mood seemingly only worsened as the days went on. He counted each one, noting it, knowing that it was just another day insidious tendrils worked their way deeper into his family. It was a rot that brought smiles to their faces. It was a curse that put food on their tables and allowed his parents to work every day. They did their jobs well and were rewarded. Soon their small room had furnishings. An actual door was installed to protect them, with a lock to shun the jealous neighbours. Chairs and tables were next, allowing them meals away from the dust of the floor. Every piece of furniture that was brought into the room Alexander viewed with distrust. He knew the sacrifices that bought each small scrap of wood. He had seen the wounds. He had seen the broken legs and shattered fingers. He saw the bodies of the recently dead, he had seen what awaited them in the basement of the very building he now called home. He knew the truth of the camp, and he knew that his parents didn¡¯t care.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. They had sold their freedom for safety, and they were glad their investment had paid off. Life had never been this good for the family. They were no longer on the brink of starvation. Both Diana and her husband could work in the fields that they had trained in. It gave them meaning and allowed them to come home every day with beaming smiles. They still instilled lessons into their child, every night guiding him in his moral growth. What they didn¡¯t know was the deep seated darkness within their young child had begun to fester. The morals they taught him were tainted. Why should you care for others, when they simply were destined for the plate of some monstrosity? Why be generous, when the wealth you gained seemed to always be at the cost of another? Why be patient? Why be loving? Why do anything that made human society possible? For every lesson they taught him, a worrying trend was added as well. He snarled at them, and though he was not open about the emotions brimming within him he had begun to jerk at their authority over him. The angst and rebellion that seems to find its home in all teens had sunk its teeth in the young boy early. Alexander¡¯s parents noted the change, but they attributed it to the many valid reasons that had occurred in his young life. They saw the hate in his eyes, and attributed it to the stump of his now missing arm. They saw him spit and brush them off, and they thought it was a holdover from his experiences in the tunnels. Every glare, every angry word, was just a symptom of what their son had gone through. Now they were away from all that, now that they had entered the safety of an actual society, he would heal. Shivering in the dark, with the fear that the night now brought him Alexander festered. The sickness that had been born the moment he had been born into the world twisted at him. His anger, his grief, his fear all twisted at him. It changed him, depositing an egg that latched onto the worst parts of his psyche and fed upon itself. They more he glowered, the more he saw to detest. The more he sank into his obsession, the more it became his world. Even Macy¡¯s return to the household did nothing to alleviate the mood. The celebration that night was ruined when Alexander stormed off to wander the halls of the building. His parents cooing and cuddling with the giggling daughter only sickened him. Every time he saw his sister¡¯s chubby little face, he saw Thomas¡¯s. He saw the boy that was surely dead by now. He saw the sickness of the world and how it seeped into everything even now. His world weary parents had long learned to live in the moment, to enjoy the good times no matter how short they seemed to be. They reached out to their son, to pull him back into the fold and to help him, but he pushed them away. Harsh words began to fill their living space. The atmosphere thickened as his parents regarded the young boy. They saw the pain that gripped him, but they could do nothing to help. Nicholas noticed the change in his apprentice as well, but the bat didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t mind the hateful glares, or the rough actions the boy sometimes undertook. As long as the jobs the bat assigned were done well he paid no real attention to Alexander. Alexander threw himself into his work. He found it was the only thing that could distract him for longer than a moment. For a few short moments as he stared at a jagged wound, he could ignore the monster consuming him and get something done. He could fix something with his hands, he could do something and achieve some sort of goal. There was a bonfire inside of Alexander that seemed to feed off everything that he perceived as negative. Every patient allowed him to center himself, but every one that Nicholas turned away only made it flare up that much brighter. It grew and grew, only slowing in barely perceptible ways before continuing on its rampage through his psyche. It was a creature that latched itself to his back and refused to let go. Alexander was a ticking time bomb. On his current trajectory he would become something the camp had long become used to. Rebellion was certainly something that the bats had dealt with before. Every so often a human would break their conditioning. They would stop becoming susceptible to the cocktails that promoted thralldom. Their dulled minds would ramp up slowly, and they would remember how they were treated. They would remember every injury, every rude comment, and every bite. Once they had awakened finally they would go rabid. Lashing out at all those around them just in a futile attempt to free themselves from the clutches of the society they found themselves in. It was a rare occurrence, but one that had occurred enough that there were regulations and training to account for it. The bats had been in the business of human slavery for centuries, and they had learned everything that they could about it. If Alexander continued down the route, if he let the fire consume him, he would join the ranks of the futile rebels. He would be slaughtered without a second thought, and achieve nothing in the meantime. To the young boy it was either that, or to bow. To submit. To let himself fall into the culture that surrounded him. The same way his parents now smiled and fed themselves. How they kept their family safe. He would never make that choice. He didn¡¯t know how his parents could have. He didn¡¯t have the same parental instincts. He didn¡¯t want the best life possible for his own children. He didn¡¯t have to stress and worry about putting food on the table every night. The worry and regrets that his parents lived with weighed heavily on their souls. They knew what humans were capable of. They had done some of the worst of the things they could imagine. The relative safety of the community they found themselves was a tantalizing hint at hope. Hope for a future that their children could be a part of. Not future was without its problems, and they could forgive the camp for its. Just like they could forgive their son for the words he spat at them, or the brooding he now seemed to always partake in. The downward spiral the Alexander found himself spinning upon ended the night howls filled the air. Chapter Seventeen: Screams The nightmare occurred a month into Alexander¡¯s stay at the camp. The boy rarely slept, staying up most of the night simply out of habit at this point. Dark bags pulled at the skin below his eyes during the day. His mother had noticed and had begun to badger him, but there was nothing she or her husband could do. Their son barely listened to them now. He barely registered the authority they had once held over his life. He no longer looked to them with awe or respect, just a slow burning distaste and distrust. Alexander¡¯s mind worked like clockwork in the hours after dusk. He was barely able to keep himself calm as the darkness settled over the room. The dying embers of the families cooking fire was the only thing he could find solace in. He had long given up on wandering the building, no amount of boredom could convince him to make the journey to the basement ever again. He knew what was down there and he had no desire to expose himself to any more of that horrific imagery. Already his dreams were filled with gnashing teeth. There was never any difference between those that belonged to mutants and those that belonged to the bats. They were always one unified maw. One gaping orifice of razor tipped teeth that nipped and chewed at his flesh. Every morning he awoke with a slow realization that he hadn¡¯t quite been eaten yet. He still held onto the majority of his limbs. His body was still relatively whole and the beating machine within his chest still kept him alive. He hid his panic every night from his parents, shivering and twisting on his mattress in silence until exhaustion forced him into sleep. Alexander was one of the many nocturnal denizens of the camp. Though many of the bats were active during the daylight hours their true number was only evident when the sun sank below the horizon. The camp never skipped a beat, switching from organized slave labour to barely controlled chaos in only moments. Alexander had grown used to all the sounds that leaked into the small bedroom at night. All of the squeaks and cries that echoed off sleeping walls. Every gunshot or scream. Every violent debate or calm conversation between hidden speakers. Most nights the amalgam of noise was his lullabies. Adding to his panic and slowly smothering him to sleep. It was because of this that he noticed the slight changes. The gunshots that many had gotten used to, seemed to be coming more frequently. The odd mutant wandering into the camps territory wasn¡¯t a rarity. It happened every so often, and many nights a gun shot or two could be heard before anybody raised the alarm. The change was subtle, but Alexander picked up on it. He hear one shot, quickly followed by another in the same direction. And then a minute or so later another pair coming from the same direction. They were too spread apart for any real pattern to emerge, and the others that had heard it didn¡¯t pay any attention. The camp moved onwards like the well-oiled machine that it was But Alexander, with his sleep deprived and panicked mind sat wide awake. The set of shots had broken a pattern that had been worn into his mind a thousand times and had shook him from his drowsy state. The gunshots had been different, and the young boy immediately took notice of them. He sat up immediately in his bed, the thin blanket the covered him pooling around his waist as he let his eyes adjust. His fear of the dark vanish as he listened closely, pushing aside all the emotion he felt in his chest for one strained moment. He listened with all the intensity he could muster. Alexander didn¡¯t have the large telescopic ears that the bats had, he didn¡¯t have the senses that allowed them for centuries to operate as the nocturnal predators of man. He didn¡¯t even know what he was listening for nor if it would reap any benefits. But he was rewarded nonetheless. A few minutes after the last set of shots, another occurred. And with it, buried beneath a wall of sound and only audible to a singular young man, there was a muffled scream. Not of a human, nor the guttural animal whine of a mutant. No, it was a shrill high pitched squeal that echoed for only a moment before falling silent. It was the scream of a bat. A scream that had been silenced a second after it had been uttered. Alexander sprung from his bed in an instant, moving to his parent¡¯s bed and reaching out to shake the sleeping figures. Sudden angry and disoriented grunts filled the room as he struggled to drag the pair from their slumber. His mother growled at him, asking what he was doing, but Alexander didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t have one. His instincts were guiding him now. No thoughts entered the boys mind as he gazed at his father, bleary eyes meeting frantic ones. The dying light of their cooking fire barely illuminated the room, allowing for only a momentary shared gaze, but Doctor Pisk got the message. He had seen that look before. He had seen it on hunting trips when his son had picked up on something the older man had missed. He had long ago learned to trust his son¡¯s instincts. Scrambling to his feet the man moved to the crib where Macy had been set to sleep the night before. Gathering the small bundle of cloth into his arms the young girl¡¯s singular cry began to fill the room. She, like her mother, was angry at being awakened. Unlike Diana who quickly caught on to what her husband was doing, Macy had no ability to recognize the situation the family was now in. She just disliked that she had been woken from her happy little dream. Macy¡¯s cry seemed to be the flint to the tinder. A spark that set the nights events off almost impossibly. As her cry echoed from the mall room, it was met with another young child¡¯s. A toddler who had trouble sleeping, only to be disturbed by their neighbour¡¯s child distress. It was paired by another shot just outside the complex. A cry from a bat, this time of one wounded and not quite dead. A desperate plea for mercy, for another of its kind to come to its rescue silenced a moment later but the damage had been done. This one could not be ignored. Alexander and his parents were already moving, packing what they could into the small bags they had only just finished unpacking. What supplies they had were stuffed into canvas bags, all that they could carry was strapped to their backs. Crying Macy was tied to Diana¡¯s back by a sling of fabric, just as the howls began. Joining the screams of the dying bat a hellish chorus leaked into the otherwise peaceful night. Human laughter twisted into a hideous arrangement. Vocal chords that should not have produced anything but angry growls suddenly lit up the night with voices of blood curdling joy. The howls that joined them twisted the world into a mad frenzy. The screams of the bats took on a new tone, a tone of warning that Alexander had yet to hear as the creatures discovered they were under attack. The family scrambling to move inside didn¡¯t see what happened next. They didn¡¯t see the massive haired beasts suddenly bursting from the dark and tackling whatever guards they could get to. Their massive claws dug into pale flesh tearing and flinging corpses into the air. Weapons were fired into the hulking masses, wounding some and killing others but the onslaught only picked up as more of the creatures burst from darkened alleyways.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Soon the battle was a melee of frantic limbs clashing in pitch black cramped spots. Knives were drawn by ancient hands, practiced and honed by many years of practice and sunk into the wild frames that tore into them. Eyes flickered in the dark as the battle raged on the streets below. Golden globes of flickering light clambered from whatever place they had been hiding that night to join the fray. Met with snarling mouths they fought with their brothers and sisters. Nicholas had been still awake. His instincts hard to fight at times he suffered from bouts of insomnia. His kind were not meant to stay up during the day, and trying to sleep at night was a constant battle for the creature. He lay awake, slumped in his bed with a handful of notes in his hand, clawed fingers running through the scarred paper as he planned out the following day. He thought about which places he would visit first, and for the first time he debated sending Alexander out on his own to a few of them. A thrall wandered about the room, the older man simply doing what chores Nicholas deemed below him, as the room fell silent. Nicholas had heard the gunshots as well, but like many of the bats he was preoccupied with his own business. His own priorities took precedence over his own senses. His ears twitched at every noise from the world above the basement dwelling he called home, one thick red tongue licking at a finger to allow him to turn a page just as the first of the howls reached him. The bat froze, his eyes growing wide as he recognized the sound. Scrambling to his feet he screeched out an order to his thrall, the dull man suddenly twisting to grab at a weapon and following the bat from the room and into the darkened hallway. Unlike many of the bats his age, Nicholas knew what that howl was. Most of the generation he was from were na?ve in many ways. They had only just joined the ranks of the ancient collective of their family. They had neglected to learn the history of the people they were a part of. Nicholas had done so, mostly as a hobby at first but then a fascination. An entire culture filled with heroes and conquerors was held in ancient vaults that barely any visited. Most of his kind were preoccupied with the society the now inhabited. They didn¡¯t care much for the world that had existed before the bombs. To them the bats had always been on top, because that was what they had known. They didn¡¯t know about the darkened underground cities that they had once been forced to occupy. They didn¡¯t know about the groups of humans that had almost hunted them to extinction many times over. They only had the barest knowledge of the other species that occupied the strata of society that bats had once occupied. The other hidden players in a world that had been bathed in fire. The wolves, the winged ones, the deep creatures. Human myths and legends were always ground in one type of other or another. They sat in the dark until the society that had kept them there had crumbled and allowed the cracks that gave the bats freedom. They had found themselves in a bountiful paradise that had never existed before. The young of all species only knew the world that they had been born into. Young humans only knew starvation and pain. Young bats only new times of plenty. Nicholas recognized the howls because of the stuffed corpses he had seen on display. The snarling teeth preserved for the heroes that had felled them. He had seen the walls of skulls, bounties from times past, and he had seen the figures on how many of his kind had been sacrificed. Nicholas was afraid. Nicholas didn¡¯t have the strength of his elders. He didn¡¯t have the decades of training or the accumulated knowledge of hundreds of battles. He didn¡¯t have the ignorant courage of others of his generation, not knowing what they were stumbling into when many of their family called out for aid. All he had was his knowledge, and all that told him was to run. Gesturing to the doorway he sent out his thrall first, the man stumbling into the wave of bats, splitting them like a rock in a river. Most ignored him, clambering up walls to continue their pace towards the surface, towards a battle they were more than happy to join. Their mouths were held in wide grins, their eyes gleaming with fervour as they answered an instinctive call to help their elders. Nicholas felt the urge to join them, to slip into the wave and make his way to certain death, but he ignored it. He swallowed his pride, driving all of that deep within him as he gave into his own self-preservation. He strode in the opposite direction of his brethren, parting them just as his thrall did as he began to run for the surface, medical bag all that he could carry now strapped to his side. Alexander and his family joined Nicholas on the street blocks away from the frightened creature, too far for either group to notice each other, but both of them heading in the same direction. Away from the sounds of the frantic fighting behind them. Alexander had pulled his blackened hoodie once again over his frame, one limp sleep flapping in the wind as both he and his family descended the stairwell. The left other humans behind, their confused looks shared among others of their kind as the sounds of the battle finally reached them. A loud crashing noise filled the air just as the family reached the darkened streets below their home. A wall above them cracked as an arm was thrust through it, furred clawed fingers sliding backwards and moment later a deep red blood seeped through the crack. The scene was repeated further upwards with the cracks spreading and collapsing a section of the wall. A bat¡¯s screaming face was thrust through the small hole, scrabbling fingers panicked and trying to pull the rest of its frame to freedom only for the movement to stop with a gargled moan of pain. Bloody spittle shot from the creature¡¯s mouth at the family below, panicked eyes begging for their help before the neck supporting it fell limp. Screams began to fill the building, rising in a chorus as the families within suddenly took notice of the invading force now working their way into the structure. One man was thrown from an upper floor window, his body spiralling out of control until he met the pavement with a wet smack. His screams urged Alexander back into a sprint, just as a hairy body dropped from the same window a moment later. It slammed into the man¡¯s still living corpse, thighs already slick with gore spearing him with feet that drove themselves into the pavement. Nostrils flared as the beast turned its head towards the family, locking eyes with Alexander as the boy turned to run. Intelligence that seemed foreign to a creature twisted as it was glinted in the night. The beast stood on two legs like a human, but it was twisted with the features of an animal. Limbs that bent strangely stretched into movement, gnashing teeth that belong to a wolf morphing into a grim facsimile of a smile. Green eyes that seemed more fit on a human glimmered from a furred face, glinting in the faint light. Excitedly the ears atop its head twisted, just in time for the beast to roll away. A pale figure had descended on it from above, twisted knife in one hand, its other arm hanging limp by its side. As Alexander ran, the short fight behind him was swiftly ended. The handle of the knife sunk deep within the creature¡¯s neck, its owner stumbling backwards with their intestines half clawed from their stomach. Both combatants stumbled towards each other one final time before collapsing, dying smothered by another¡¯s body. Humans began spilling into the night from whatever doorways they could reach. They were followed by the beasts that hunted them, dying echoes following every person that made it into the night. Alexander and his family had a head start, but that was swiftly being eaten up by the beasts that battled behind them. Chapter Eighteen: Flame The world around the running family was pitch black. Alexander felt his eyes trying to adjust but saw no benefit reveal itself. The skies above were cloudy, obscuring the full moon and plunging the streets into a darkness that could not be pierced. They had left the lights of the camp behind them, just as they had left the sounds of the fighting. That was all they used to guide them. The screams of terrified women and children, the clash of weapons, and the howls of beasts unknown. All they knew was that they had to run in the opposite direction. They had to get as far away from the slaughter as possible even if that lead them into new dangers. Nicholas found their trail easily enough. He could hear the panicked voices communicating and attempting to stay together in the dark. The bat¡¯s large ears flapped as he ran behind the group, keeping his distance but steadily gaining on them. Though he didn¡¯t recognize them immediately, as soon as Alexander whispered something to his mother the slim creature knew who he had been following. He didn¡¯t much care that he had found his apprentice and his family, all that mattered was that he wouldn¡¯t be alone. His feet softly padded against the dirt road, silent but he knew that wouldn¡¯t stop the creatures behind him. They would just follow his scent. The scent of his fear, which seemed so palpable in the air around him. His thrall jogged beside him, easily keeping the pace he had set. The man was an older one, with a thick greying beard that ran down into the middle of his chest. He had been a loyal servant to Nicholas, something that his master would never return. The grimy clothes that covered his body, coupled with the unkempt state of his hair signalled that Nicholas didn¡¯t take very good care of his servant. He fed him yes, but that seemed to be the extent of it. The man was tough, all sinew with barely an ounce of fat. His skin was taut and leathery and seemed to only scrunch up as he moved. His empty eyes sat in sunken eye sockets, barely perceiving the world around him. Of the entities in the streets that night perhaps only this man stayed calm. All the other thralls had been thrown into the jaws of the beasts as soon as they had appeared. They had died to protect their masters, and allow for the battle thralls to be awoken. They had died, dumb and without thought, cut open and eaten before their brains even registered the pain. Alexander and his family stumbled from an alleyway into an empty street, pausing for only a moment to catch their breath. Doctor Pisk shakily pushed at his glasses, one hand seemingly glued to them as they had moved. Diana took steady deep breaths, her body burning with the strain that she had put it through. Macy still lay wrapped up against her mother¡¯s back, but the frantic cries had died into a whimper as even she read the atmosphere. They had bought themselves some time, and they used that now to regain some spent energy. They didn¡¯t dare talk, saving their breaths and only sharing glances to communicate. Before too long Nicholas met up with them, his eyes glinting in the faint light. He hadn¡¯t meant to get this close, or even reveal his presence but as soon as he and his thrall stepped from the darkened alcove Alexander¡¯s eyes had zoomed straight towards them. Nicholas was just as frightened as the group he was following. He was just as frantic to get away. Alexander was hyper aware. His panicked state had already given him plenty of false alarms. Any sign of movement, any noise or sight that even seemed remotely out of place was cause for alarm. Every step he had taken into the night made his heart rate race all the more within his chest. He felt as though his senses were on fire, his eyes waving wildly about as he drank in everything he could. Nicholas could see the way the panicked boy was acting, he could see Alexander beginning to launch himself towards the glistening eyes in the dark. ¡°It¡¯s me!¡± Nicholas chirped he voice barely above a whisper, trying to stop the boy before he attacked. Alexander paused, his fists raised. He had heard the gentle footsteps of the pair behind him as they had entered the wide open street. Without his own families movements echoing about on the walls around him he was sure he would have heard it earlier. His fear addled mind tried to place the voice, only for a snarl to pass his lips as he caught another glimpse of the golden eyes. Nicholas laughed at the sudden change in his pupil, his teeth glinting as his smile lit up the night. An ear splitting shriek suddenly filled the air ruining the reunion. Both Diana and her husband recognized the noise, their eyes lighting up in terror as they turned. Practiced movements took over the pair as their bodies twitched into action. Diana suddenly flipped the parcel on her back onto her chest, hunkering down and curling around the precious bundle now in her arms as she scrambled for cover. Doctor Pisk stepped towards his son with his arms out stretched as he fought to clasp at his child, fingers working their way into fabric. A rippling sensation tore through the street, sending rubble tumbling about as the world seemed to shake uncontrollably. A moment later a wall of noise and light hit the assembled figures causing each of them to stumble. Alexander was tossed to the ground, ripped from his father¡¯s grasp suddenly, the pair scattered and slammed against the ground. Diana was the only one to hold steady, low and shuddering as her body took the brunt of the force. Alexander felt his shoulder slam into the ground, his legs tumbling behind him as he was sent careening into a low stone wall. His eyes were drawn to the direction of his former home as they tried to focus once more. The spiralling flames that ran upwards to the sky howled in their fury, lighting the world in a grand display of power. Green sparks tinged with a radiating energy ran along the ground from the centre of the impact. He caught a glimpse of Nicholas¡¯s tumbling body farther down the street, the skinny bat taking the impact far worse than the boy observing him. The creature fell still in a crumbling pile of rubble, one clawed hand bent at a strange angle sticking out from bundled fabric.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The world was silent for a moment, as though the explosion had frozen everything in time. Slowly, moment by moment it awoke. Cries filled the air, as frightened howling echoed about concrete walls. Alexander¡¯s eyes widened as he saw the falling figures. Human, bat, and wolf. Whatever the fire hadn¡¯t consumed had been shot upwards. Now as his fought to catch his breath, those still living bodies came crashing downwards. ¡°Those fucking idiots!¡± Diana screamed, her face bloodshot as she began to stand. Her face was filled with fury, her eyes blazing as she peered into the spiralling flames above their head. A trail of blood began to seep down one side of her face, causing her to shoot out a pink spittle as she shrieked. Who she was spitting her rage at was not apparent, though her eyes never left the pillar of flame. Alexander struggled to stand, his one arm pressed against the ground. Everything in his vision swam, the shockwave had seemingly shook everything within his head loose. He laughed strangely as fatigue seemingly consumed his body. He tried shoving himself to his feet, only for his eyes to blank out causing him to lose any gained progress. A strong arm gripped him suddenly, tugging the boy to his feet. When Doctor Pisk saw the unfocused look in his son¡¯s eyes he growled, yanking the boy harshly upwards once again. The right side of the man¡¯s face had been brutally scraped clean. What was left of the skin lay in tatters. His right eye was ringed with shards of glass, the remnants of the glasses that had once clung to his face. Raw red flesh lay exposed and glistening in the moonlight as he shouldered his son. He took the weight without complaint, forcing himself to bring himself towards his wife. If Alexander had seen the look in his father¡¯s eyes he would have been proud. The hate within them singed everything he gazed upon. One blue pool now streaked with red lines as the damage to his face leaked ever deeper into his frame. Doctor¡¯s Pisk¡¯s eyes mirrored his wife¡¯s words, the two of them staring at the flame with equal distaste. They had seen such weapons before. They had been there when the first ones had fallen. They were still there when the millionth slammed into the earth. That any of them had survived the end came as an unpleasant surprise. That anyone would still use them made their hearts fill with burning spite. Both sets of teeth grit together as the pair stared at the flames. Any who had survived this long knew just what scars the weapons left behind. They had long learned what the tiny green sparks that now wormed their way into the earth meant. Those sparks would return as green mist months later, poisoning the land for miles around the initial devastation. Those sparks were the reason mutants existed, and they were why the world struggled to move on. They twisted all organic frames they came in contact with. Leaving nothing but pain in their wake. It was only when the first bloody bodies began to slam into the ground surrounding them that they began to move once again. Bloody mulch slapped against unforgiving stone walls, lifeless bodies and the still living treated in the same manner. One wolf-like frame hit the ground with limbs grasping at the stone as it fought to regain control, only for its efforts to be rewarded by another of its kind slamming into it. Both bodies spiralled out of control into a crumbling wall, concrete tumbling about their intertwined broken figures a moment later. Not every person that hit the ground died on impact. The world surrounding the limping family was suddenly filled with begging cries, mangled faces peering at them from tangled piles. One by one they were joined by others walking from the site of the blast, all conflict forgotten with the poisonous reminder still leaking into the air behind them. First to join them was a limping figure, carrying a broken body. Nicholas spat and wriggled in the grasp that held him, trying to free himself, but the shattered bones in his limbs prevented him from having much of an effect. The loyal figure of the thrall that now limped under his weight carried his master despite the protests. His own shattered calf was ignored, the thrall pushing all that away for the sake of the figure in his arms. A limping figure passed by Alexander¡¯s right, a twisted fur lined frame with a large rod of metal sticking out of its chest. It whined like a wounded dog, its eyes meeting the family before continuing to move down the street. Every wolfish body it found it shook, trying to find any signs of life, trying to find the remnants of its pack. Diana and the Doctor decided to ignore the figure almost instantly, and it chose to do the same towards them. Its worried noises joined the screeching protests behind them as the ragtag group moved blindly away from the flames. Alexander made threatening movements towards the beast when his addled mind realized its existence, but his father kept a firm grip on the woozy boy. Adrenaline was the only thing fueling the man now, and even then the pain pulsating through him was almost too much to bear. It took all his strength to continue onwards, dragging the half conscious frame of his child behind him. Everything had been put on standstill when the weapon had been fired. Somewhere miles away a crew was cleaning up, putting away ammunition and taking down the large artillery piece. A single round had been fired, but that had been enough. The stockpile beside the crew was placed onto the back of a truck, practiced hands clearing everything away in the span of a few minutes. By the time the stumbling survivors found their way to the site, all they found was an empty clearing. Tire tracks had been swept clean, and all evidence that any weapon had been here was wiped out. The clearing had been a good spot to fire the weapon, just as it was a good place to rest. Weary bodies began to stumble into the clearing, wounds apparent on all that crept from the gloom. Alexander and his family were the first, their wounds minor compared to the horrors that would find their way into the clearing in the coming hours. Everybody collapsed upon finding the space, tired and dying bodies simply falling limp. Wolf lay beside human which lay beside bat. All hostilities forgotten as pain wracked every inch of their bodies. The fight had been burned from them, their homes and their leaders lay dead and empty behind them. No attempts at organization were made, as tired individuals simply slept where they fell. Diana tried her best to tend to her small family before she too succumbed, setting them up in a small space barely sheltered from the weather. Thin blankets were set out, gauze was wrapped about bleeding faces as Alexander slipped from consciousness the final time that night. He left the world a chaotic mess. Flame still danced in the sky, sparks still played with and devastated those who survived. When he awoke it would be to a world he barely recognized, but one that his parents had lived through a dozen times. The world left after one of the bombs fell.