Page 3 of Born Savage

We’d learned to ignore the dead.

At first because despair was dangerous, even the quietest articulation of fear or sadness beckoning predators, Savages, and Freedom Hunters. There were also wild animals no longer remotely like their original DNA.

All bloodthirsty. All primal killers.

But they weren’t the worst or the most heinous of those savoring the taste of blood, creatures devoid of humanity. Night Dwellers held the title without question. Devoid of souls, the beasts had a voracious appetite for human flesh.

Even after exhaustive hunts during the last several years, the number of them had expanded, making venturing out at night a fool’s game. That was why I planned my trips to the City of Lights accordingly, never leaving room for error.

There were also more dead and dying, so many succumbing to airborne illnesses, horrific famine, and the effects of radiation poisoning that we still couldn’t cure. That was why I was here, risking additional exposure to death and disease. If one life was saved, the forage would be well worth whatever sacrifice or agony was endured.

Plus, if I managed to slaughter a few motherfucking Savages, criminals, or Night Dwellers on my adventure, all the better.

In this case, daylight provided limited protection, the hazy and often dense fog surrounding the once great city allowing some comfort while hunting for food and supplies.

Yet as I stepped over rancid bodies, many already partially dismembered from attacks of wolves, their bodies picked clean by thunderbirds, I felt a strange sense of despondency I rarely experienced. Even worse.

Loneliness.

Being a hunter was a lonely business.

However, as I took a few seconds to mourn a loss of something I barely understood, a shrill whistle coming from the darkest bowels of the buildings was a reminder that I wasn’t alone in the rubble. There were others, humans who considered themselves rulers of the entire territory.

They were equally treacherous, only trading jowls of steel and sharp teeth for weapons much like I carried.

The air was frigid, the October day soon to give way to horrid weather patterns, all changed by a nuclear winter than had lasted much longer than a decade. At least I believed it was October, calendars holding little meaning in a world where all time and activities had switched to nothing more than fights for survival.

While I’d been born after the great conflict, there were those who remembered the months of terror providing stories rich in detail. One country had struck another, setting off a horrific chain of events including the use of nuclear warfare. The strikes had been targeted, not every city leveled in the wake of the disaster, yet leaving the earth scorched and the country’s water supplies toxic.

Everything had changed, only a select few survivors to continue the fight for freedom. The war hadn’t been the only toll suffered, disease wiping out millions, including animals, altering others into grotesque species no longer considered friendly. Some called humans a dying race, punished to live in the Graveyard, while other flourished in domed cities, protected and offering those of certain connections a life of luxury.

Just thinking about the quality of life was depressing enough. Living it daily was miraculous.

Moving quickly toward the building that was my target, I scanned the pathways leading from the piles of debris, my hand already reaching for one of many knives. Each was special to me, stripped from monsters and men attempting to lay claim to my body, and every one of them had their purpose including eliminating those who were intent on doing harm.

The approaching soldiers’ stench gave them away, the stifling heat accentuating the pungent odors. Sharp and acidic with hints of ammonia gave way to the sticky sweetness of spoiled meat. I yanked the scarf hanging around my neck, covering my mouth and nose. I could almost clock how many paces away they were given the wretched smell.

The Borgata and its brutal leader kept soldiers searching the streets, knowing the allure of the thousands of lights cleverly created by calcite and strontium aluminate lured in creatures great and small. Given the army’s strength in numbers, they were a force to be reckoned with, but very few within the organization had brains. Yet the one thing I could count on were their schedules.

They’d never win in battle given every act was highly predictable.

Even the Freedom Hunters, soldiers trained by the king didn’t bother chasing or killing the Borgata, certain the criminals would eventually turn on each other.

Their predictability allowed me to come and go without detection, stealing from under their noses. Not that anyone should lay claim to what was left of what had once been.

I rubbed my hand across a plaque still secured to the exterior surface of the several-story-high facility. I was surprised the dirt and dried blood came off easily without wasting any of my special solution I carried with me. All supplies were in limited source, so I took this as a win, especially since I’d been right about the location. With any luck, I’d be in and out in thirty minutes, leaving me plenty of time to head to the underground compound where I’d lived for years.

In most abandoned dwellings, there was no such things as locks. What hadn’t been destroyed by the great war or subsequent plagues and famines leading to chaos and hysteria had been looted long ago. Well, not everything.

My knowledge of where to find the goods had taken me years to achieve and I used it wisely. I moved to the side of the building and to the panel suggesting an entrance I’d seen once before. The metal piece was heavy, but with no muscular men in tow, I’d learned to do everything myself. Another whistle sparking the frigid air meant the bastards were getting closer.

Beads of sweat tickled my brow, sliding into my eyes, but I had no time to worry about the prickling stings. I shouldn’t be here today, the chance of being caught much greater, but I’d had no choice. We were out of all medications, and I refused to allow my mother to suffer.

A man’s laugh filtered down the alleyway just as I slipped inside. Now I’d need to wait until the ugly bastards passed before daring to move further into the building. Any misstep and I’d find it difficult to outrun them. They always traveled in packs of six or eight, too many even for my favorite sword to handle. I crowded the interior wall by the opening, maintaining utter silence.

As soon as their laughter faded, I studied the area in front of me. From what I’d learned from the few maps of the city found in collapsed bunkers, this used to be a public space. I’d allowed my natural curiosity to build knowledge, details I’d become grateful for. It beat wallowing in self-pity as so many others did, hopelessness exactly what the king and his corrupt court feasted on.

There were reports that the bastard had been injured. Too bad the monster hadn’t been slaughtered in his sleep. In my mind, he was the greatest enemy of all.