Savage (Apex Predator Book 2) Read online

  Mills looked thoughtful. “Guess I’d better pack a bag. You know … just in case.”

  He shook his head. “No matter what happens, I need you here, protecting the cabin.”

  “We stick together, remember? No matter what happens, we stick together.”

  Ahh, his own words, used against him. Truthfully, sticking together was the optimal survival strategy. But so was staying out of sight. If he had to drive Perkins to Danter, he’d prefer to do it alone, to leave the others in the safe confines of the cabin.

  But deep down, he realized that would never happen. If he left, Mills would insist on coming. Morgan and Elliott, already eager to leave, would join them. And there was no way Toland would stay behind by himself. No, they’d all drive off together. And just like that, their fates would change. “We could die out there,” he said.

  “Better together than apart.”

  He exhaled. “Let’s just finish this hand, okay?”

  She drew, shuffled her cards, and discarded. Then she looked away. “I keep thinking about the store.”

  He picked up a card from the pile and immediately discarded it. “What about it?”

  “Why was it still standing?”

  “Luck?”

  “Dire didn’t attack the store even when we were inside it. Almost as if …”

  “As if what?”

  “As if it was using the store as a trap.”

  Numerous animals, such as cougars, acted as ambush predators. And behemoths were far smarter than them. “It’s possible,” he conceded. “If you’re right, it raises another question. Why do behemoths care so much about us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “James told us the reborn megafauna would end the Holocene extinction. It hasn’t worked, but at least I get what he was trying to do. However, I can’t figure out why he created behemoths. As far as I can tell, they aren’t fulfilling any ecological niche. All they do is prey on people.”

  She picked up another card and added it to her hand. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe they’re supposed to keep us in check.”

  “Maybe. But that’s not all that bugs me. If James wanted to dial back time ten or eleven thousand years, he should’ve stopped with the reborn megafauna. Behemoth-sized creatures haven’t walked this planet since the dinosaurs went belly-up.”

  He drew and discarded several more cards. Then he glanced at his hand. He held a Seven of Hearts, an Eight of Hearts, and a Jack of Diamonds. After four draws, he’d accumulated just fifteen points. So, he drew again and picked up a Five of Diamonds. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to rebuild in Diamonds and discarded the Seven of Hearts.

  Mills snatched it up and discarded a Two of Hearts. Not good, he thought, reaching for the deck. I need a miracle.

  The cabin door banged open. Morgan, looking tired and bedraggled, walked outside.

  “Well?” Mills asked, rising to her feet. “How is he?”

  Morgan didn’t say a word. But her teary eyes and drawn cheeks spoke volumes.

  Perkins was dead.

  Chapter 6

  Date: November 24, 2017, 8:14 a.m.; Location: North Maine Woods, ME

  I don’t know how we’re going to make it without you, Caplan thought as he stared at the thick plank of wood positioned at the edge of the clearing. But we will. That’s a promise.

  He shivered. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watched his breath form little clouds in front of his face. He hadn’t slept much. And the little sleep he’d gotten had been plagued by bad dreams. Dreams of ghostly apparitions and behemoths. Dreams of Perkins, of blood, of the horrible pain he’d inflicted upon the man. And all of this backed by surreal images of a dying world. A world of vast wastelands, modern ruins, and charred, cracked streets lined with corpses.

  The cabin door banged against the stopper. Mills walked outside. She carried steaming mugs in either hand and a portable radio under an armpit. Wordlessly, she handed a mug to him. Then she set the radio on the ground and took a few halting sips from the second mug.

  The faint aroma of coffee filled Caplan’s nostrils. When they’d first arrived at the cabin, he’d mixed up daily batches of fresh pine needle tea. The concoction, rich in Vitamins A and C, was both healthy and delicious. But when the trees began to die, he’d stopped making it. Now, they drank filtered rainwater, flavored with whatever they managed to scrounge up from campgrounds, homes, and stores.

  He sipped the coffee. It was beyond weak. But hey, it was hot and at least it had some flavor. “How are your arms?”

  “Sore. But my hands are worse.” She studied her calloused, swollen fingers. “What I wouldn’t give for a manicure right now.”

  A few hours ago, they’d dug a grave for Perkins at the edge of the clearing. Then they’d fashioned a gravestone out of wood and Caplan had carved the man’s name upon it. They’d gathered the others and each of them—even Elliott—had said a few words on his behalf. It wasn’t much, wasn’t nearly enough.

  But it would have to do.

  “Are the others up?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Brian’s reading. Tricia’s fixing breakfast. And I’m sure you can guess what Amanda’s doing.”

  He glanced at the cabin. The curtains were thrown wide open, welcoming in early rays of sunlight. As such, he could see Morgan sitting at his father’s old desk. A large logbook, made of fine leather, was spread out before her. It was slightly charred, but still very much intact. “Working on something none of us will ever understand?”

  “Ding, ding, ding!” She took a long draught from her mug. “Congratulations, Mr. Caplan. You’re our grand prize winner!”

  “Yeah? What’s my prize?”

  She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a small object. With a wink, she tossed it to him.

  He caught the brightly-colored plastic package. His eyes widened and his stomach emitted a low growl. “How …?” he asked. “When …?”

  “Last night, before Dire. They were racked near the checkout counter and I remembered you liked them.”

  “Like?” He ripped open the plastic and pulled out a large Chidler’s Peanut Butter Cup, wrapped in metallic orange paper. “You mean love.”

  She laughed and time careened to a halt. Her laughter was wonderful. It made him feel warm and toasty on the inside. Like maybe this world wasn’t so bad after all. Like maybe it had more to offer than just death and despair.

  But the moment was doomed before it even began. And as it faded away, awkwardness descended on the clearing. He glanced at Morgan again, wondering if she was watching them. But no. She was hunched over the desk, still reading the logbook, still scribbling away in its margins.

  He stuffed the candy into his mouth and his taste buds exploded with glee. Textured hard chocolate, gooey peanut butter … this was, as far as he was concerned, the absolute pinnacle of culinary delight.

  He grabbed a candy from the bag and tossed it to Mills. Catching it, she arched an amused eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  “No.” He grinned. “So, eat it fast.”

  She unwrapped the paper and bit off a piece of chocolate and peanut butter. Her eyes rolled to the sky and she looked like she might faint. “Wow,” she said. “That’s just … wow.”

  The door banged against the stopper again. Elliott appeared, bowls of hot, watery stew in her hands. Her close-clipped hair, once dyed canary yellow, had long ago reverted to a light brownish color. A tight red sweatshirt and jeans covered her skeletal form. Her eyes, gleaming with almost inhuman intensity, flitted constantly in all directions.

  She offered them the bowls and, without a word, marched back into the cabin. Not because she was angry. But because that was her way. She was quiet and stuck to herself. Her problems ran deep as Caplan had discovered awhile back. One night, her screams had awoken him and he’d raced into her room only to find her fast asleep, evidently suffering from night terrors. But not in her bed. No, she was curled up on the hard floorboards in the far corne
r of her room. The following night, he’d peeked in again and saw her in the exact same spot, trembling and distraught.

  He’d never said a word about it, not to her or to anyone else. They all had problems stemming from the events of the last seventeen months. And those problems, like it or not, weren’t going away anytime soon.

  Mills finished the candy. Then she sat down and began eating spoonfuls of stew. Meanwhile, she played with the radio, causing static to fill the air.

  Caplan groaned. “Can’t that wait?”

  “We always listen for traffic at breakfast.”

  “Believe me, I know. It’s just …” He exhaled. “We never hear anything.”

  “We will.”

  “You can’t really believe that.”

  “I have to.”

  “Just be happy we’re alive.” He waved a hand at the cabin. “We’ve got shelter, water, a little food. Trust me. This is as good as it gets.”

  “God, I hope not.”

  “Hey, it’s better than dying.” The words left his mouth before he could reel them back in. Lips tight, he glanced at the wooden headstone.

  Mills offered a small shrug. “Maybe. But not by much.”

  He recalled his little song. Forget thriving, he sang in his head. Just keep on surviving. He thought she agreed with that point of view. But maybe not.

  Sitting down, he dove into his stew. It contained little chunks of precooked sausage. He gobbled up this rare treat with enthusiasm. When he was finished, he set his bowl upon the ground and wiped his lips. His stomach started to growl, eager for more food.

  For the next ten minutes, Mills worked the radio, listening for voices amongst the static. Finally, she silenced the device. Raising the bowl to her lips, she drained the rest of her breakfast. Then she swiped her finger along the plastic surface and licked it clean. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said with a furtive look at Perkins’ grave.

  “Me either.” Left unsaid was a cold, hard truth. Perkins had been a hard worker and a good hunter. His loss was going to hurt them in more ways than one.

  “It’s my fault.”

  Caplan sighed, shook his head. “No.”

  “I saw it first. I should’ve warned you guys right away. But I hesitated.”

  “And I should’ve bided my time, circled the store before going inside. Derek should’ve kept his cool instead of sprinting into the parking lot. The others should’ve been there with us, helping out.”

  She nodded silently. Then she cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “I think she’s referring to me.” The masculine voice, downtrodden yet still boisterous as a carnival barker, ripped across the landscape.

  Caplan whirled around. A short, muscular man with charcoal-colored skin and close-cropped black hair stood at the edge of the clearing. His name was Noel Ross and he wasn’t really a carnival barker. Before the fall of civilization, he’d owned an ice cream shop in the middle of tiny Danter. But he was full of frenetic charm, a trait that served him well in his current role as Deputy Mayor.

  Caplan still recalled the first time he’d barged into Ross’ shop, his youthful eyes all aglow. The wonderful scents of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla had swirled in his nostrils. Stammering, he’d thrown down some change and ordered a scoop of chocolate, laced with Chidler’s Peanut Butter Cups. He’d expected a small dish for his pittance of money. But Ross, because he was that kind of guy, dished him out the equivalent of a feast.

  “Hey, Noel.” Caplan rose to his feet. “I appreciate the visit. But we’re just not interested.”

  Ross strode across the clearing. “You might be when you hear what I have to say.”

  “Did you walk here?” Mills asked.

  “No, I drove. I left my car back at the road.” Ross stopped in front of the makeshift tombstone. A long sigh left his lips. “When did this happen?”

  “Last night.”

  “Was it them?”

  Mills and Caplan exchanged looks. “I don’t know who them is,” Caplan said. “But Dire sliced him up on a supply run. We tried to save him, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “I see. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.” Caplan gave the man a curious look. “So, who’s them?”

  Ross tore his gaze away from the tombstone. “Four days ago, a bunch of soldiers appeared in Danter. They came out of the woods, out of buildings. There must’ve been a hundred of them, all packing heat. They had us surrounded before we could get our hands out of our pockets.”

  Caplan sensed a slight waver in the man’s voice. “What’d they want?”

  “Food and supplies.” He sighed. “They disarmed us and gave us a list. Then they took five of our people, including Mike, away at gunpoint. We’ve got until the first of the month to get them what they want. Otherwise …”

  He trailed off, but the implication was obvious. If Danter failed, Mayor Zelton and the other four residents were as good as dead. Caplan winced internally at the thought. Zelton was a classic small-town politician, well-versed in the art of pressing flesh and kissing babies. But it wasn’t all for show. There was a genuine kindness beneath the façade, as Caplan had discovered many years ago.

  Mills cleared her throat. “What are you going to do?”

  “These people are vultures. They’ll blackmail us forever if we let them. So, we’re going to pretend to comply. When their guard is down, we’ll strike back.” He gave them a meaningful look. “But to do that, we’re going to need help.”

  “I’m sorry about Mike,” Caplan said. “I really am. But count us out.”

  “Being alone doesn’t make you safe. What if they come for you next?”

  “They won’t find us.”

  “They might.” He sighed. “Numbers matter in this new world, Zach. A big population is the only way to stand up to bullies.”

  “A big population also gets you noticed. And being noticed is tantamount to death.” He shook his head. “Staying small is a much better strategy.”

  Ross cast his gaze at the tombstone. “How’d that strategy work out for Derek?”

  Caplan’s gaze hardened. His fingers curled into fists.

  “Sorry,” Ross said quickly. “I didn’t mean that.”

  His fingers stiffened, then slowly relaxed. “I know.”

  “What if you just help us out for this one fight?” Ross asked. “After that, you can come back here.”

  “I’m not going to put my friends in danger.”

  “I guess I can respect that.” Ross glanced at the sky. “Well, I’d best be going. I’ve got a lot of ground to cover today. You folks be safe now.”

  Turning around, he strode across the clearing. Moments later, he vanished into the forest.

  Mills watched him with an arched eye. “I hate to admit it, but he’s got a point. If those soldiers come this way, we won’t be able to stop them.”

  “They won’t come here. Blackmailing a tiny group like ours would be a waste of time. They’re better off picking on the Danters of the world.”

  A cold breeze swept through the clearing, causing Mills to don a pair of gloves. “I hate to bring this up. But without Derek, it’s just us tonight. Coupled with Noel’s news, we might want to stay close to home. I was looking at our maps and saw a small cabin we haven’t hit yet.”

  “Tonight’s a hunting night,” Caplan said.

  “We’re out of ammo.”

  “You’ve still got your bow.”

  “Sure. But what about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Ignoring his still-growling stomach, he rose to his feet. “I don’t need a gun to hunt.”

  Chapter 7

  Date: November 24, 2017, 9:05 p.m.; Location: North Maine Woods, ME

  Caplan crouched on a thick branch, his unblinking eyes fixed on the dark, dying forest. Big game was nearly impossible to find these days so he searched for rabbits and squirrels. But he wasn’t picky. He’d take chipmunks, snakes, an
ything really. Anything to alleviate the gnawing hunger that slowly consumed him and his friends.

  He shivered as a stiff breeze sprang up from the north. Winter was getting close. A harsh New England-style winter that would leave the landscape drenched with snow, ice, and freezing temperatures. Everything—salvaging and hunting included—was about to get harder, tougher.

  But he was determined to stick it out, to make it work. At least they had the cabin and the van. At least they had their meager supplies and food. Still, Florida would be pretty sweet right now, he thought. No, wait. Hawaii!

  Black flies, attracted to the carbon dioxide in his breath, swarmed Caplan’s face. Only a mask of mud, topped with a thin layer of pine resin harvested from a still-living tree, kept them at bay. More mud and pine resin covered his black field jacket, cargo pants, wool socks, and sturdy boots, effectively masking his scent.

  At first, thoughts of Perkins and Zelton consumed his brain. But as the night slipped by, he found himself thinking of her. He still missed Morgan sometimes, most of all at moments like this one. Misty, quiet moments where the world seemed almost normal. Where the horrors that now stalked the earth felt more like distant nightmares than everyday reality. Why’d they have to fight like this? Why couldn’t she recognize the futility inherent in trying to fix an irreparably broken world?

  A tiny rustle filled his ears. Twisting his head, he saw Bailey Mills. The former socialite rested in the crook of a fungus-covered eastern white pine tree. She clutched her collapsible bow in her right hand. Her left hand reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small chunk of beef jerky, a sizable portion of her evening rations. She gave it a good, long look. Then she rubbed it carefully in her hands and took a small bite. She chewed slowly, deliberately, savoring the taste. When she was finished, she lifted the rest of the meat to her nostrils and inhaled it. A smile flooded her visage.

  Caplan’s belly rumbled softly and he started to reach into his cargo pants for a bite of food.