Page 9 of Born Savage

“Where did you come from, Wren? Why are you all alone?” I knew she couldn’t answer me yet, her distrust likely taught to her by whoever had pushed her away. Maybe to keep her safe and alive.

Something I understood more than I could explain, only my memories didn’t serve me to paint a picture of a selfless act, instead an attempt at erasing history. It was just a feeling of course, a twisted knowing that had lingered in my mind for the entirety of my life. Black spaces lived where images and stories should flourish. Whether from tragedy or something even more extreme, I’d been told my mind had learned to protect itself.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “Where we’re going is safe.” But was I merely telling her a lie? How many times had we been forced to move, traveling the countrysides, picked off one by one leaving our numbers dwindling. With no children born and most in their later years of life, we would soon fade into extinction. I’d often wondered if that was the case for every group of survivors.

There was some communication between members of the Resistance, but the fear of being caught kept conversations to a minimum. Details about upcoming battles involving Freedom Seekers were always more important. They were the people who’d started a formal movement of survival. But quickly it had become clear they had their own agendas and couldn’t care less about protecting the survivors.

Exhaustion plagued me, more so than usual and I closed my eyes. However, the last thing I wanted was to fall asleep. Doing so was far too dangerous. “What’s the pup’s name?”

Wren shook her head against me.

I lolled my head to the side, surprised when another memory of long ago appeared in a hazy series of mental photographs. On this night, I had a more difficult time accepting them. A puppy and a little girl. The visions were personal, haunting because I couldn’t be certain they were real or accurate. My throat tightened as a soft voice spiraled through my mind.

“My beautiful star, time to come inside with Jake.”

A single tear slipped past my lashes, rolling haphazardly down my cheek. With no one to see my weakness, I didn’t bother wiping it away. The memory was one of the few that created comfort.

“How about calling the dog Jake?”

When her little head lifted, her eyes brighter than before, I sensed she approved the choice.

“Jake it is. Try and get some sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.” At least it was one promise I could keep. Anything else at this point and I would simply be lying.

The girl was still shaking, every tug on my shirt a telling of how terrified she was. I couldn’t blame her, the anxiety I usually could push aside more prominent than I could remember. Maybe the undeniable sense that something was about to happen was the reason.

With her breathing labored, the only other comfort I could offer her was from a task taught by someone whose face I could not see. Maybe I was fooling myself, but the song would forever be ingrained in my mind.

Humming wasn’t a task performed by anyone, another sound often considered dangerous. What did I care if anyone could hear me? Maybe I was more despondent than usual. I had no idea if I was remembering the song correctly, but being able to offer music of any kind was a gift and the only one I had for her.

She was fitful for a little while, but I knew the moment she slipped into a deep sleep when her hand fell away.

Jake was also asleep, his body trembling and his paws twitching as if…

I lifted my head from another memory. As if he was chasing rabbits. I’d never seen a rabbit, the species likely extinct like so many others from the toxic fallout. I’d seen pictures, books saved and protected by the chosen whose sole job had been to protect history.

What I wouldn’t give to see one in person. That wasn’t the only thing I wished for, even if wishing was as painful as being deprived of anything other than necessities.

It was a rare and painful moment such as this in which I had to remind myself I was part of the Resistance, those determined to fight the enemy, only in doing so, we were just fighting ourselves.

Once upon a time, knowing the enemy had seemed easy, anger and uncertainty fueled by those claiming they had the best interest of our country in their hearts. Then those before me had learned the true enemy had been born and bred within. By then, it had been too late to alter the course of history.

Only now did it feel as if we might have a fighting chance. But only if our numbers remained strong, which was why safety was of the utmost importance.

A yawn surprised me, the cold, damp environment certainly not conducive to relaxation. Neither was being in a city after dark. Fatigue had a way of speaking its mind.

Once again, I closed my eyes, telling myself I was only resting them. Every muscle ached, my body becoming chilled to the bone.

Ping.

The sound was minuscule, nothing that should draw my attention, but it did. I lifted my head, not one hundred percent certain I hadn’t been dreaming. Remaining completely still, all I could do was to try to ascertain where I’d thought the noise had come from.

There was nothing for several seconds, then what I could only describe as a whooshing sound, a low thrum that seemed to rumble from nowhere. But I wasn’t about to take any chances. I very carefully disengaged myself from Wren and the pup, even leaving the bag with them. I needed to be as unhindered as possible in case an attack was imminent.

Keeping lower, I moved toward the other side of the car and onto a seat while remaining under the ledge of the window. A single look was usually all I needed. Only in doing so, another strange set of sensations quickly shifted into a low, dull hum of vibrations.

Someone was coming.

No, more than one creature, their combined weight in their heavy footsteps sending a wave of tremors down the metal platform and into the subway car. There was only one entity whose weight was heavy enough to cause such a physical reaction.