Page 51 of Outfoxed

According to the locals, the final days had been more like thirty-six hours of relentless storms followed up with one hell of a twister, one that’d carved a ten-foot deep gully through the ruins and continuing for ten miles north before petering out.

I’d walked every foot of the tornado’s half-mile wide track and had emerged with a hefty respect for what a twister could do. Some of the trees still stood, their trunks twisted into a tight spiral from the force of the winds. Of those trees, one or two refused to give up the ghost, enduring despite the catastrophic damage done to them.

With the understanding someone sent the storms plaguing Tulsa, I no longer viewed Owasso’s dead as victims of Mother Nature’s wrath, but rather the victims of murder. No, the victims of execution. For what, I wasn’t sure. What could such a small place have done to deserve being wiped off the map?

I doubted I would ever understand why people did such horrible things. Even my scavenging toed lines, but the dead didn’t care, few had inheritors, and even if they did, only people like me were brave and stupid enough to risk death for a pittance.

I would risk death with my trip, but the knowledge would be worth far more than a meal in my belly or a place to sleep.

If my luck held out, I might be able to catch glimpses into the past from the broken ruins and fragmented bones littering the dead city. I expected I would learn only about a more recent storm. Then again, every little bit of knowledge would help.

Years of storms and scavengers testing their luck would complicate my search, but if my magic cooperated and someone had targeted Owasso, too, I would learn the truth.

That alone would make the trip worth my while.

As I did every time I went on a scavenging trip outside of Tulsa, I headed for the rubble of an old shopping center outside of the city limits, checked for anyone following me, and scurried into the general safety of a concrete building determined to flip Mother Nature off for as long as possible. I shifted into a fox, grimaced at the bone-deep ache warning me I needed to use my magic less and rest more.

I disliked the taste of blood, especially when it was mine. Instead of a quick run back to Tulsa as a fox, I’d have to make the hike as a human unless I wanted to push my luck. Without the general safety of my cellar, I’d do the sensible thing for once, and when I did transform back to human, I’d stay that way for a while.

Returning to Tulsa would test my patience, but better to have tested patience than a severe case of dead. Maybe I’d take Sandro up on his offer of shelter in Asylum and catch up on sleep while flirting with disaster. If Anna’s two-day grace panned out, I had enough time to make a foray into Owasso, check on my various cellars throughout the outskirts, and prepare myself for being hunted, even when I accounted for making the hike back as a human rather than a fox.

Leaving the Alley altogether was an option, especially if my magic helped me determine who was behind the storms and why.

If someone outside of the Alley worked to destroy my home, I would take the fight to them one way or another.

It amazed me how a little truth changed everything about my situation.

Rather than the shades of gray that usually dominated my life, I enjoyed the stark black and white I faced. Someone worked to kill my city. I would work to kill them. The reasoning why didn’t matter much to me. A city full of people didn’t deserve to be executed.

Tulsa had enough problems without a mass murderer fucking around with our weather.

Aware Mother Nature would fuck me over if I gave her a chance, I moved like I meant it. A mundane fox traveled no more than five miles in a day, but I ignored their limitations with delight, heading off at a ground-eating lope. Within three hours, I would reach my goal, hungry, thirsty, and annoyed with the world. If my magic cooperated, I could finish my work within an hour or two, leaving me with barely enough time to scurry back to Tulsa and dive into one of my cellars before the storms hit.

I made it to Owasso, but Mother Nature took yet another swipe at the City of Storms, flinging high winds and hail at the ruins. Since the frequent twisters constantly altered the landscape, I searched for a place to hide, finding a somewhat exposed basement that might do the trick unless a funnel dipped into the hole after my furry ass.

Before my magic had told me the truth, I wouldn’t have thought twice about Mother Nature and her hatred of the Alley. Now, I wondered if the storms assaulting Owasso were natural.

I couldn’t tell.

With the rumble of thunder and the scream of the wind for company, I settled in to wait.

Tuesday, May 5, 2043.

Owasso, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

I wondered if the unexpected storm, which hit several hours before dusk and raged into the night, had caught Tulsa by surprise. I hoped not; while Owasso had fallen first, Tulsa wasn’t precisely far away, and lightning illuminated the sky in all directions.

The last thing I needed was to return home to find the place flattened by the same kind of monster twister that had flattened the City of Storms. While I waited, I touched my nose to the debris in the basement, but my magic refused to come at my call. Age shouldn’t have mattered, so I could only assume the broken stones and rotten wood hadn’t witnessed anything of value.

I could believe that. The lightning barely penetrated the sheeting rain, and before it had been exposed, only the rolling thunder would’ve been audible.

No, there was nothing for me to learn in the dark, damp basement.

Waiting tested my patience more than I liked, but I found elevated rubble that kept me mostly dry. The hail-chilled water pooling in the basement combined with pushing my luck and shifting too often might do me in, if the storm failed to kill me. The lightning masked dusk’s arrival and departure, and the torrential downpour transformed the ruins into a muddy mess. Sometime in the middle of the night, the storm died down to frequent flashes of lightning streaking across the sky, but nothing more.

It would be a long night, but I stood careful watch.