Cynetic Wolf

Time stood still and I found myself back in the SmartCore, the control room. So many interfaces and moving parts… I walked to the corner and stepped on a silver pad. What’s this for?

A tingling shot through my feet and spread through me, sparks of electricity setting me on fire. My skin glowed, tiny points appearing every centimeter, every tenth of a centimeter, smaller still, until a mesh grid covered me. What was happening?

A bone-rattling chill. The next instant a searing hot pain. It ended.

The glowing dots faded and my body became just my body again. What the hell was that?

Opening my eyes, I was back in the forest. Around me, trees grew to the sun and birds sang. Fitz slept like an angel by the fire.

My eyes darted, frantic. I needed food. I needed meat. Now.

Grabbing my blaster, I set off, unable to think straight. An all-consuming hunger overpowered any semblance of rational thought.

My senses were hyper-alert. Something was happening inside me.

I caught the scent of deer and changed directions, heading southeast, deeper into the forest. Leaves crackled. He was two hundred meters away, grazing. In my wild state, I charged him. Once he realized what was happening, it was too late.

I sprang, claws slashing, as I landed on his powerful back and clamped its neck, ripping its throat with my fangs. There was never any question. My teeth tore into him, blood drenching my lips. I ate the venison raw. It was glorious, the drive overwhelming, and I gorged at least two kilos.

I sliced what I could of the remainder, slung the animal over my shoulder, and headed for camp. Passing a chilly stream, I rinsed my face and beard so Fitz wouldn’t think me a savage.

A fire was going as I rounded the bend. “So, that’s where you went,” he remarked. “Thought so, but you shouldn’t run off.”

“I was starving.” I didn’t plan on elaborating. “You want some or not?” He must be starving too.

We got a spit going and draped the meat over the fire. It was getting toasty, a perfect rare, when we heard the crunch of leaves.

Not again. We grabbed our knives.

Tapping my temple, thermals appeared. Two figures approached from the right, one large, the other small.

“Get behind that tree.” I pointed.

He rose, fading into the darkness.

Kelep and his father stepped into the clearing. Kelep’s father was a tall, muscular man with a strong jawline, thick black hair, and the dark eyes of someone who wasn’t to be trifled with. He wore jeans, thick leather boots, and a bright vest. A hunter?

“Perfect timing,” I said as they got closer. “We’ve got dinner on the fire, a fresh kill. Have you eaten?”

He shook his head. “You must be Raj.” He held out his hand. “I’m Abe, Kelep’s father. Wanted to thank you for what ya did for my son.”

Fitz emerged from the woods. “Had to take a leak, sorry. What’d I miss?”

“I was thanking Raj for protecting my son. He’s your boy?”

“It all happened so fast.” I shrugged. It wasn’t like I could tell him the truth. “Kelep reacted well. You’ve done good with the lad.”

Abe grinned from ear to ear as we squatted around the fire, slicing a couple of fine cuts and making small talk.

“I hear you’re going to Itany?” I said once Abe had finished.

“Heard right. Got me a big shipment and need to make sure it’s delivered on time.” His eyes narrowed. “One of my mates quit a month back, got working papers for the big city. Been looking for help since. Don’t know who he ratted on for an opportunity like that.” He shook his head. “Least it wasn’t me,” he added. “How’d one of ya like to do the run with me?”

“What about both of us?” Fitz asked. “We need to get to Itany, get my wife from the in-laws. Could use a lift and would be happy to help in exchange for a ride.”

“Free labor?” Abe laughed. “I’m a trader, I’ll take that any day.” He told us to meet him Saturday at sun up at a warehouse north of town. After finalizing plans, they excused themselves; Kelep had homework he’d forgotten to finish.

The next two days were nothing special. With plenty of meat and water nearby, we weren’t worried about anything other than getting ready. Somehow Fitz started telling stories about his childhood.

He’d grown up further west, but wouldn’t say where. From what I could gather, they’d been poor and he had a younger brother, but his mother died giving birth. When he realized what he’d been saying, he changed the subject.

The next morning we talked backup plans. What if something went wrong? Where would we meet? What if the DNS came? He grilled me for hours, and at the end, we were exhausted.

A brief walk and a hearty dinner, and we slept the rest of the day.

After packing our belongings and cleaning camp Saturday morning, we set off, both anxious to get there before encountering cops.

The reddish-brown barn came into view an hour later, an enormous big rig outside. It could have swallowed our place whole. People used to drive those things?

“Hey, Abe!” Fitz shouted when we reached the front. “We’re here.”

There was a rattle from inside the barn. “One sec!” he yelled.

He emerged a minute later with a thin silver wristband, spouting specs with a salesman’s ease and a greedy smile. “Only trader in the region with access to these babies. Rich buggers will eat ’em up.” He had us load those up first, “In case we have any trouble with bandits.”

After thirty minutes of mindless lifting, a horn blared. I jumped, hand flying to my knife. What was that?

“Come on, boys!” Abe laughed. “It is time to get this show on the road.”

“You scared the crap out of me,” I told him once we’d piled into the front seat.

“She’s got a mighty fine horn, doesn’t she? Wakes other truckers the hell up.” He smiled. “That’s not all she does.” He tapped a small nondescript knob. “You might not hear it, but she’s a multi-frequency jammer for dealing with drones or vehicles taking too much interest in my truck. Throws their navigation for a loop. Two crashed not twenty meters away and never knew what hit ’em.”

“By the way, where you coming from?” Fitz asked.

“Willows, ’bout halfway between here and The Brooks.” He turned from the road. “The Brooks used to be a hopping place I hear, Big Apple they called it. City got crushed. Pa used to tell me stories. The Fall sounded terrible, madness. They teach ya bout that, boy?”

Did he think I was an idiot? “Yeah, they do. Not a lot, but some.”

“Gotta tell ya something.” His eyes were still off the road, which seemed like an awful idea. He wasn’t the smartest cookie. “I ain’t a huge lover of the GDR, but they did okay considering how bad things were. Imagine folks doing that genetics stuff, unnatural that is.”

I was thinking of a reply when a drone appeared. Not a good sign. “We got company.” I pointed. “Should we hit the horn?”

“Not yet,” Abe replied. “Let’s see what the little guy does.”

A few minutes later, it was gone. “What’d I tell ya. Not a big deal.” He grinned. “Got any brothers or sisters, Raj?”

“Nope, just me.”

“That’s a shame. Nothin’s more important than family; family and business that is.” He smiled. “My Pa taught me to be a trader: negotiate deals and bargains, where to sell, who to talk to, that kinda thing. My brother wasn’t interested, always getting in trouble. Joined the army, no surprise there. Stationed overseas, I think. Something about keeping the peace, problems on the Continent. I should call him, it’s been a while since—”

Abe’s head exploded, words dying on his lips. Holy crap! Blood splattered everywhere, spraying me. The wheel slipped from his hand, spinning as the truck turned. We jackknifed, flipping, once, twice.

SLAM.

Everything went black.