Wolf Running Page 8
They ran toward her.
Chapter Ten
Then
Nowen gave one fleeting moment to the thought of fighting the creatures. There were only four of them, and although they were fast she knew she was faster. She could see it all, how she would meet them and destroy them in a matter of seconds, tear them limb from rotting limb and utterly vanquish these intruders.
Then there was no time left. From somewhere behind her came a great wailing as other Revs answered the call. She spun on her heel and ran back the way she had just come. Dust clouds trailed behind her as she raced up the alley, houses and trees and fences blurring in her vision as she ran faster and faster. It seemed to take no more than a couple of seconds and then she was at the street. Ahead of her was the alley that led to the hospital staff parking lot. From the corner of her watering eyes she saw that more Revs were in the street, pouring from the front of the hospital like a flash flood.
A glance over her shoulder showed that she was still out-running the fast Revs. The group of undead was only halfway up the alley. But she was reaching the end of her endurance and knew she couldn’t keep this full-speed sprint up for much longer, while the Revs showed no sign of slowing down.
Nowen darted across the pavement. Jamie was standing in the passage, holding her pack in one hand. Nowen could see her eyes widen as she took in the horde swarming toward them. The blood froze in Nowen’s veins - she was leading the Revs right to Jamie.
“Run!” she screamed, her throat burning with the force of her shout. Jamie dropped her pack and sprinted toward the hospital. Nowen slowed, jogging backwards to watch until the other woman had scrambled up the ladder to safety. Jamie motioned for her to follow, but there was no time. The fast Revs were thundering across the street, flowing like mercury through their slower companions. Yellow eyes shimmered in ashen faces, and jaws gnashed in anticipation. Nowen spared a precious second to meet Jamie’s horrified eyes. “I’ll be back -wait for me!” she shouted, and then turned her back on the undead mob and ran.
From somewhere she found some extra reserve of strength and forced her leaden legs to move faster. She thought she heard Jamie call, but the feral sounds of the Revs overwhelmed everything. Her heart pounded in her chest and her lungs ached for air as she rushed toward the station wagon that blocked the end of the alley. From two feet away she leapt for the roof, latching on to the luggage rack with desperate hands.
Nowen pulled, hauling her trembling body up. Rough-skinned hands plucked at her jeans and clawed at her bare ankles as she clambered up the side of the car. She made the roof and stood on weak legs to look around. The throng of Revs had reached her. She stared down into their ravenous eyes as they lunged at her. There was nothing left of the humans they had been, just a deep and endless hunger that could never be satisfied.
More of the creatures were moving through the alley. The mass of Revs pressed forward, ragged hands reaching up like broken tree limbs. She realized the precariousness of her perch as the car tilted to the left, the combined weight of the bodies threatening to tip the car over. The street behind her was surprisingly empty, and Nowen took a deep breath and jumped.
The car shifted beneath her just as she did, and she was thrown off balance. She landed, hard, on her hands and knees. Sudden pain wrapped around her right leg and sunk its sharp teeth deep into her knee, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. The squeal of rubber on pavement came from behind her. She rose to her feet, looking back to see the station wagon shift forward a little more. There was almost enough space between the rear bumper and the building next to it to allow the Revs to come through.
Nowen took a tentative step; her right knee throbbed but she could put her weight on it, and she forced herself to jog toward the gas station. The shrieks of the fast Revs grew in intensity, and now she could hear the moans of the slower ones coming from all around. Swift glances showed more of the things heading toward her from either end of the street. She increased her pace, gritting her teeth against the pain that came with every jolting step.
Something hit her from behind and she fell. Pebbles bit into her face and the smells of tar and gasoline from the street mixed with the fetid odors of the Rev on her back. Its weight shifted as it searched for her flesh. Desperately Nowen heaved upward and felt the Rev slip backwards. She surged forward, hands digging for purchase against the asphalt. She was jerked back and only then remembered the backpack she still wore. A shrug of her shoulders sent the Rev tumbling back, clutching the blue nylon in its filthy hands.
The gas station door and safety was almost there, almost within reach, but in the time it took her to get to her feet again the Revs were surrounding her. Somehow, even through her mad scramble, Nowen had kept hold of the pipe. Now she gripped it with both hands and drove toward a slight gap in the closing circle of the undead. She swung hard at a shorter female Rev in front of her and sent the creature’s bloody jaw flying, trailing strings of grey flesh. The thing staggered aside and she shot between two Revs in stained and dirty police uniforms. A third officer, blue shirt turned black with dried blood, reached for her. Nowen side-stepped his hands and slammed her weapon against his head. The skull cracked audibly and the officer dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
Nowen jumped over the body but as she landed her injured knee gave out. She stumbled, and the Revs were there. Terror swept over her in a midnight wave as they surrounded her. Mindlessly she fought, her blows driven by a base animal instinct to survive, but there were too many of them, too many. Something tugged at her hands; she looked down into the leaf-yellow eyes of a young child. The girl was wearing a pink summer dress spotted with irregular black dots, and as she returned Nowen’s gaze the girl closed her dark-stained lips on Nowen’s wrist and bit.
Silver stars exploded in Nowen’s head. She screamed, her voice mixing with the cries from the Revs around her until it all became one unholy wail. A heavy weight on her back brought her to her knees. Teeth dug into her shoulder. A shockwave of agony flooded her brain; behind her fluttering eyelids she ran through a twilit forest saw inky trees that towered over her sun die in a blaze of light death the shadow that chased her opened wide approaching and swallowed her.
A large black wolf exploded out of the huddle of creatures. She jumped from one hunched-over back to another, her claws shredding clothing and flesh. She landed on the street and was off, plunging through the forest of legs around her. The smell of dead flesh inundated her nose as she dodged the hands that tried to seize her. Finally the wolf broke free, dashing away from the horde and down the street.
The wolf had passed the last side street and the last expensive house when she stopped to catch her breath. She looked back at the city behind her. Unease touched her, faintly, as if something important had been left behind. The wolf shook her head to drive the feeling away. The city was a dead construct of dead people, and it held nothing for her. Some instinct beyond her reckoning pointed her north and she ran, leaving the dead city behind.
Now
Stacked lenticular clouds floated across the sky as Nowen stood on the porch, taking in the view. Rolling white hills stretched away in every direction, but the breeze that lifted shimmering veils of snow from their surface was warm. Melting icicles dripped from the roof, and one brave crocus was showing its head from the little garden on the side of the house.
Nowen closed her eyes and lifted her head to the sun. The warmth felt good on her face and her skin drank in the rays. She wasn’t fooled, though; this was just a temporary break from the cold grip of winter but she wouldn’t turn down this opportunity. She rolled her shoulders, adjusting the large pack she carried on her back, and then strapped her feet onto the skis. She paused to watch a flock of birds wheel and dart, black outlines against the pale blue sky. She pulled a pair of polarized goggles over her eyes, grabbed the ski poles, and looked south.
“I’m coming, Jamie.” she said.
Book Two
Then
The wolf
circled the pronghorn antelope as it thrashed. The buck was tangled in a snarl of barbed wire, part of a fence that had come loose. Somehow the animal had managed to get the fencing wrapped around its torso, and the more it struggled the more the barbs sunk in. Drops of blood spotted the thin ground cover. The buck tried again to gain its feet but again the fencing dragged it back down. It lay in the rough grass, its brown-and-white sides heaving. The black eyes beneath the dark nose stripe were wide open, rolling wildly as the wolf drew closer.
The wolf had been roaming the prairie, searching for something to eat. Game had been plentiful when she first moved into this area, but evidently the word of her arrival had spread, and most of the small animals had fled. Soon she would move to a new hunting ground, but today she tracked the scent trail of a hare and hoped to catch it unawares. Then the sounds of a large animal in distress came to her, and she followed that to find the pronghorn buck.
The buck had been here for the better part of a day. It was a large, healthy animal but the futile struggles against the fencing had sapped its energy. Still, the wolf held back. Her mouth dripped saliva at the smell of the prey, but she had never taken on anything so big. In her solitary travels across the prairie she had caught hares and mice and ptarmigan, and once she had feasted on a dead calf, but she hadn’t killed anything this big. She knew that the buck wouldn’t have the strength to fight her if she waited just a little longer. But the desire to taste warm blood was too strong, and the wolf threw caution to the wind.
She moved closer to the pronghorn’s head, watching its panicked motions carefully. The buck threw its head back and the wolf shot forward, clamping her jaws on the exposed neck. Warm liquid flooded her mouth as she bit down, and her eyes fluttered closed at the taste.
The pronghorn gave one last desperate heave, trying in vain to shake her loose. She clamped down harder, planting a paw on the antelope’s shoulder to brace herself. The buck thrashed its legs wildly and one sharp hoof connected with the wolf’s side.
Agonizing pain grabbed onto her ribs and squeezed. Her grip loosened, and the wolf managed to stagger a few steps before she collapsed. Her breathing came fast, a frantic fight for air complicated by the tortuous feeling of every inhalation. Tremors shook her body. Her amber eyes rolled up in her head and her limbs twitched violently as they started to change shape. The heavy black fur rose and fell in waves before disappearing into the light brown skin of the woman who now lay naked and unconscious on the prairie.
It was the increasingly cold air that brought Nowen back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to an indigo sky streaked with red and gold clouds. A breeze moved over her, and the feathery tips of switch grass trailed across her face. An all-too-familiar thought surfaced: Where am I?
Slowly she turned her head to the left. A dead pronghorn lay close by, lifeless black eyes seeming to stare accusingly at her. Blood trickled from a wound in its white-furred neck, and as the copper-and-saltwater scent came to her she licked her lips unknowingly.
Nowen rolled to her left. A raspy exhalation escaped her throat as pain flared like acid all along her right side. She teetered on the edge of insensibility, drawing tiny sips of air through her gritted teeth, as the pain grew worse. Her hands dug into the dry soil and saliva dripped from her lips as she tried to outlast the all-encompassing swell of agony. Black flowers had started to bloom behind her eyes when the pain finally eased.
She thought longingly of never moving again, but the deepening cold chased that idea away. Gingerly she trailed her fingers down her right side, finding an area low on her rib cage that rewarded her touch with another bolt of pain. She also discovered that she was nude, which just added to her confusion. I remember running down the alley behind the hospital, she thought, and then the Revs were everywhere...and then...
Nowen raised her head cautiously, expecting to see the buildings of Exeter. Instead she saw nothing but grassland, dusted with snow and stretching in front of her as far as her limited vision could see. She let her head drop back for a moment and then raised it again, turning to the right as much as the pain from her ribs would let her. About fifty feet away was a small wood house. A tattered American flag flew from a pole in the front yard, and dead flowers lined the side of the house she could see. The building was dark and silent under the evening sky.
Goosebumps rippled down her skin as the cold wind swept over her. Get up. She took a deep breath and instantly regretted it as her ribs screamed in protest. Get up. “It hurts.” she whispered to the uncaring sky. Get up, now. Or you’ll die here. She bit down on her lip and carefully turned onto her stomach. From there she got to her hands and knees, and then very slowly to her feet, using the dead antelope for support. By the time she was upright full night had fallen and she was sick with agony. By the light of a half moon Nowen could see the shadowy outline of the house against the black landscape. She began to pick her way over the stony ground toward it.
Nowen walked in a cold-and-pain fueled haze. The tiny breaths she was forced to take made her feel light-headed. The rough earth cut her bare feet and the light snow froze them. The fiery ache along her right side throbbed with every careful step she took, and the wind whipped itself into a frenzy that wrapped her in a bitter shawl. She stumbled over something hard, saving herself from a fall by wind-milling her arms desperately. Raising her head, she saw that she was finally at the house. Three low steps rose up to a worn wooden door. She tried the door-knob; it was unlocked, and the door swung open on a cold, dark interior.
All her limbs trembled with exhaustion and icy tears froze on her cheeks but a tiny piece of self-preservation exerted itself. She found a light-switch just inside the door and flipped it, hoping against hope for the miracle of light. No luck. She tried to yell but couldn’t make a sound louder than a gaspy whisper. She settled for slapping her hand against the wall and waited for a response.
There was no sound, no movement from inside the house. I’m going to collapse. I have to take a chance. Nowen stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. Her eyes burned for a moment, and then her surroundings became visible to her, all the colors faded in her sight. The house smelled stale and musty, as if it had been closed up for some time. Her eyes lit on an old couch that sat against one wall of the room and she made her tortuous way over to it. A blue-starred quilt lay across the back, and as Nowen sunk onto the shabby cushions she pulled it across her icy body. She huddled beneath the quilt and listened to the wind.
Chapter Eleven
Now
Nowen leaned on the ski poles and glared up at the fading sun. Her breath was visible in the cold air, pale streams that disappeared in the wind. She untied her heavy parka from around her waist and pulled it on as she watched dark clouds spill like ink across the sky. Withdrawing several folded sheets of paper from an inside pocket she studied them, the strengthening breeze tugging at the map pages in her hands as she tried to determine where she was.
I vastly overrated my skiing ability, Nowen thought, as she traced her route with her finger. Since she had left Laramie yesterday morning she had only covered about twelve miles. The easy mile-or-less trips she had made on fresh powder back in Laramie had not prepared her for long slogs through slushy snow and over icy ridges. Maybe I should have taken I-80 East. According to the road atlas she had liberated from an abandoned car, there were two main routes out of Laramie. One was a major highway, I-80, that led east to Cheyenne. From there she could follow I-25 south to Colorado and Ft. Collins. The other way was shorter but the road, US 287 according to the map, seemed to be an older highway and would perhaps be more treacherous than I-80, but also less populated. Her desire to reach Exeter as fast as possible and the chance of avoiding both dead and live people made her choice for her.
Nowen placed a finger on a spot that was labeled ‘Tie Siding’. She didn’t know what it was, but the place was big enough to warrant being mentioned on the map, so that was her next goal. Only about five miles away. Easy. She tucked the pages back
into her jacket and then took a drink from her water bottle as she looked around. The snow blanket here was mostly undisturbed, the highway just a slight dip in the white layers. The wind had cleared the road of drifts wherever the breaks in the tree lines allowed it access, and roughly paved patches dotted the snow. She capped and stowed the bottle and pushed off again, keeping the road on her left and using it as a guideline.
The wind died just as fat white flakes began to fall from the grey sky. Nowen stopped, tilting her head back to watch the snow drift toward her. The silence wrapped around her, so still and absolute that it was easy to believe that she was the only living person in the world. She held her breath, letting the immensity of the stillness fill her until it seemed she was made of the cold quiet winter.
The breeze returned, swirling around her and throwing snow into her face. Nowen pulled herself from her half-dreaming state as the breeze suddenly shifted to a gale. The wind roared, dragging the snow from the clouds in blinding sheets that wiped the landscape clean around her. She stood in the raw fury of the blizzard and fought the urge to roar back. Under her clothes a ridge of fur raced along her spine before sinking back into her skin.
Nowen raised the parka’s hood against the cold as she peered through the falling snow. She remembered seeing a sign for a rest area that should be just ahead. I could find a car to take shelter in, she thought, or even the public bathroom will work, as long as it has a roof. She raised the ski poles and pushed off.
Ten wearying minutes brought her to the rest stop, a large paved area with signs directing cars in one direction and trucks in another. A couple of battered picnic tables sat abandoned in the deepening snow, and Nowen could make out a concrete building near the tables that probably housed the restrooms. Even better, though, was the eighteen-wheeler tractor-trailer parked at the entrance to the rest area.