There were expected tears from Lydia’s end, and even John looked morose as they said their goodbyes at four in the morning. Alexia hadn’t expected her heart to feel so heavy, but she fought back tears as Lydia embraced her. Lydia had even gotten her a backpack for her own use, and it carried provisions that Ryker didn’t have, albeit a lighter.
“There’s a good change of clothes there for you; thermals, you’ll need thermals. They’re a bit old but still in good condition,” Lydia told her, holding her hands.
“Your kindness…it means so much to me-to us,” Alexia almost choked saying those words. She didn’t want to leave, not yet. She had wanted to feel that love that she had never felt from parents. They were the closest to the parents she had never had.
“Are you sure you won’t stay? You can stay; you’re welcome here,” Lydia whispered to her.
Alexia looked at Ryker and saw his eyes. They screamed “no.” Alexia bit her lower lip. “We have to leave,” she forced herself to say. She knew Lydia had compared her to the daughter she had lost. She was hurting someone without meaning to.
Every minute wasted was a minute lost on the road. Ryker held onto her shoulder, gently squeezing it, telling her it was time to leave. Alexia took another deep breath and nodded. With one last hug from Lydia, she and Ryker stepped out into the darkness. Ryker had refused a ride to town, telling them it was best no one see them, since Juliet’s absence meant some sort of instability in the company.
The Jamesons stood on the porch, watching the youngsters leave. John didn’t wait for them to get to the edge of the farm. He quickly went back inside the house, leaving Lydia. She saw them walk further and further away from her, from the house, and she felt her heart break just a little. Juliet had been such a naïve girl, naïve and sweet; but definitely kind-hearted. She was far from Dani’s image. Lydia had to admit that Juliet was too pretty to go unnoticed in their small town. Perhaps, that was why the young ones were in such a hurry to leave.
Minutes passed by, and they became specks in the distance. Lydia sighed and opened the door, hesitantly looking back at them. Then, she shook her head, wondering if sleep was a good thing. She could sleep in again, and so could John. Ryker had done a lot in the past few days he had helped them, and Ryker had already fed the animals in the barn.
Those kids were good kids, she mused, locking the door behind her.
*
They had walked for about 6 kilometers when Alexia suddenly stopped. “I want to go back,” she told him.
Ryker spun around, his eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I said I want to go back.”
“I thought we already agreed. It’s not just for our safety; it’s for theirs.”
“It’s too far away. They couldn’t even find us, and we were there for almost four days,” Alexia told him, closing her eyes, wishing she was back. She could go back, but she just had to let Ryker know.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“One more night,” Alexia told him. “Just one more night with them. I’m starting to miss them-"
Ryker held his breath, controlling his temper. “Please don’t do this. Not now. We have a couple of hours before the sun sets again, and Mount Sunflower is our target.”
She stood her ground. “Please, Ryker. Please.”
“I told you not to let it get to you.”
“You let it get to you,” Alexia retorted, feeling the wind slap against her face, even if she had worn full winter gear. “I’m going back.”
“I’m trying to be the voice of reason here,” Ryker growled. “I’m trying to keep us alive. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“I want to stay with them. They’re a lonely couple; they need us.”
“Don’t get delusional thinking you can replace the daughter they lost. You’re from Sector 12; you have no family. Don’t think for once that they’ll be willing to give you their family name-" he stopped.
“Because your adoptive parents did?” Alexia said.
Ryker said nothing; the words were caught in his throat. “We have to go,” he finally uttered. “Remember what happened to Mr. Jensen?”
Alexia closed her eyes, remembering what had happened. It suddenly felt so long ago, clouded by recently made happy memories. She remembered Mr. Jensen’s head blowing up like a fruit. She was sobbing, but she couldn’t bring him back to life.
“It’s not going to happen. We’re too far away.”
“You don’t know what they can do.”
“You’re imprisoning me all over again,” she declared.
Ryker’s eyes widened, then he shook his head. “The things I do are for you, primarily for you. And this is how you repay me? By accusing me of dragging you away from those people? They’re just people, and people die. You know what’s worse? People die faster with us around.”
Alexia shook her head. “I can’t leave them. They’re still not feeling too well.”
Ryker threw his hands up in the air, exasperation taking hold of him. “You know what? Fine, fine. Have it your way. I’m still going to Washington.” He spun around; his brain had begun to hurt. It was a stressor, he thought, forcing himself to calm down. He heard her walk the opposite direction, her boots slushing against half-melting snow. He looked up to see storm clouds gathering. Another snow storm was bad. He kept walking, further and further away from her, until he knew he was finally alone.
That was when his brain stopped hurting. He was far away from his stressor, the one person he had tried to protect. He had sort of memorized the map John had given him, but it was still tucked safely away in his pocket for good measure. Technology was his worst enemy as they could have been tracked easily. He had been doing everything the old way, according to what his father’s ancestors had taught their tribal members for generations. The old ways were still the good ways, he thought.
He had been walking for almost an hour at a very slow pace when he inexplicably stopped and looked back. He didn’t expect her to be there behind him, but he hoped. He could no longer catch a whiff of her scent. It sent panic alarms in his head. Better safe than sorry, right? Cursing under his breath, he found himself turning around, walking back to the farm. The sun hadn’t risen, and the air had grown colder; it worried him.
Alexia’s absence worried him greatly, and he decided he would drag her out of that house, if need be, without a care if the Jamesons tried to stop him. He began to sprint. There was something palpable in the air. He was still a good five kilometers away when he saw faint smoke rise from afar. He could smell wood burning; he could feel another werebeing’s presence. Not just one. There were more than five…
Oh god, no. No.
His sprint broke into a full run, and he stopped a kilometer away, the acrid smell of animals and wood burning filling the atmosphere. Blood fell from his face. He couldn’t have been too late. How could he have left her alone? He shouldn’t have let his pride get the best of him-
Then, he heard a choked scream, and Ryker hid behind a tree, closing his eyes. He tried to feel what was there. He wanted Alexia to talk to him again, talk to him in his mind. Was she too far? How did she do it the last time? His heart began to pound, and a brain-splitting pain came about, coursing through every nerve in his body. He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to stop the shifting.
Ryker heard another voice, a voice that demanded. It was Caliban. He took a deep breath, forcing his shifting to stop. Stop it, stop it, Ryker told himself. He had to get them out first, if he could. He had to get to Alexia first.
Outside of the barn, Alexia was sobbing, staring at the elderly couple whom she had said her goodbyes to just an hour ago.
“Please, please, don’t hurt them,” she cried, looking at the masked faces in front of her. She knew there were six werebeings amongst them, and she could point them out. Then, someone’s scent caught her attention. She looked sideways to see Caliban without his mask.
She opened her mouth but said nothing, amazed at how big and tall he had grown. He was even bigger than Ryker, his muscles strained against his camouflage uniform. Alexia closed her eyes for a moment, hoping Ryker was safely away from them. It was her pride that made this happen. It was her neediness, her want for a normal home, a normal life.
“Where is X014?” Caliban asked his men.
“We’re still scouting the area, sir,” one replied. “He couldn’t have gone too far.”
“Subject A129,” Caliban began, “I am hereby arresting you for treason against the government and the United States of America.”
“What is treason?” Alexia gasped. “Is treason escaping from that lab?”
Caliban hesitated to step forward. Then, he eyed the elderly couple. “John and Lydia Jameson, you will be hereby executed for harboring a dissident without informing the proper authorities-"
“Please, don’t!” Alexia cried out. “They had nothing to do with this! Please, please!” Alexia struggled against her handcuffs as she saw tears stream down Lydia’s face. The couple was on their knees, their clothing soaked in snow and mud.
“Stop it!” she cried out, desperate to shield them. “Caliban, stop it!”
Caliban shook his head, taking a deep breath. This was just another day at work, another day that meant the country was safe again from rebels, no matter how old. He wanted to make things easy for everyone. He signaled two men by raising his two fingers in the air.
“Please!” Alexia begged. “I’ll do anything, don’t-just don’t kill them, please!”
They lifted their rifles, placed them against the back of Lydia and John’s heads, and Alexia could do nothing but watch. It seemed to happen in slow motion, and she saw Lydia give her a reassuring smile through the tears in her eyes. John nodded once at her.
“Keep your chin up,” John uttered.
Caliban nodded once, and the men sent bullets into the husband and wife’s skulls.
Alexia choked on her gasp; her vision had begun to blur as Lydia and John’s bodies slumped to the cold ground. She saw blood trail from their heads, mingling with the snow, turning it dirt red. She hadn’t noticed her nose bleeding, hadn’t noticed the tears on her face.
They were dead, they were dead! She had killed them. Keep your chin up…for what? To meet her executioner’s aim eye to eye? Caliban stepped in front of her. He knelt down and cupped her chin, looking into her eyes. For a moment, he felt empathy for her; then his eyes frosted over, tinged with a red hue.
“You shouldn’t have gone this far, A129,” he whispered to her.
“I’m Alexia, not A129,” she told him, looking at his face. Where was that little boy that loved being taught to read by her?
Caliban blinked, and he held onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
Alexia closed her eyes, ready for her death.
*
She heard a loud thud and then the sound of a few gunshots around her. Alexia opened her eyes and saw Ryker holding onto Caliban’s throat. She could see a spatter of blood on Ryker’s cheek. She said nothing, and the air became deafeningly silent.
“If you kill me, you’ll kill A129,” Caliban hissed to Ryker.
“I’ve killed your men; what makes you think I won’t take the risk of killing you, too?” Ryker told him. “Take her handcuffs away,” he snapped at Caliban. “Do it!”
“Do what he says,” Caliban said, eyeing his men. How many were left? He had all his werebeings in close proximity.
“Don’t shift, Thirteen,” Ryker said. “You have no idea what I can do.”
“I survived you, if you remember,” Caliban replied, watching as they removed Alexia’s shackles from her back.
“You won’t survive me this time. I’ll make sure of it,” he whispered into Caliban’s ear. He looked at Alexia. “Come closer to me,” he told her.
“No one move,” Caliban ordered his men.
Ryker looked down, feeling something touch his boot. It was John’s body. He took a breath, feeling that familiar pain once more. Alexia touched his back, and he felt himself calm down considerably.
“Put down your weapons,” Ryker told them.
They stared at him for a second and then complied, waiting for their senior’s next orders.
“How many are there?”
“Six,” she replied, referring to the werebeings. She sensed werewolves and werefoxes, and Caliban was their alpha male. Ryker motioned for her to grab Caliban’s gun, and she took it from him with little difficulty. Emotions coursed through her, from rage and despair to that feeling of being betrayed by someone she thought she had had a connection with once. For a moment there, she wanted to shoot him.
All of a sudden, she felt something: an electric charge in the atmosphere. She took a step back just as Ryker did, too. Caliban had begun to shift, and so did the rest of the werebeings. The remaining humans quickly scrambled far away from them.
“You think you can outsmart us?” Caliban roared in a voice unlike his own. “I may not have killed you during the games, but I’ll make sure to kill you now!”
“Alexia, get down!” Ryker yelled, shoving her to the ground as he parried a blow from Caliban’s paw.
Ryker shook his head as he stood up, the ringing in his ears persistent. Alexia was still on the ground, staring at Caliban who was ready to kill Ryker. She had to do this now. She had to try. She quickly stood up and ran for Caliban just as other werebeings ran to attack her.
“Stop!” she cried out, touching Caliban’s arm. Caliban looked at her and raised his paw at her, his red eyes ablaze with murder. All of a sudden, Caliban shook, and he shook violently. Two werebeings had gotten a hold of her, ready to slit her throat, when they stopped to see what was happening to their superior.
“What did you do to me?” Caliban gurgled, his fur shedding away quicker than a heartbeat. He was nearly naked, his military uniform in tatters as he lay on the ground, disoriented and weak.
The other werebeings immediately let go of Alexia, afraid of what could happen to them.
Caliban willed himself to shift, to no avail. He shouted his frustrations into the sky with Ryker confused at first. Then, he realized this was one of those skills that Alexia had that Sector 12 did not know much about. He quickly reached for her, pulling her close to his chest. He was ready to shift, ready to die as long as she could get away. They had kept their military vehicles away from the farm on purpose.
He saw Alexia in the throes of panic. It wasn’t the time for her to show she didn’t know how to use her powers. What the hell was that? Dr. Delaney hadn’t told him about that. His eyes darted about, and then he grabbed Alexia’s gun, firing aimlessly at every soldier in front of them. He saw Caliban stumbling about, choking on the dust from the shots.
Ryker ducked, hearing the other soldiers scrambling for their guns, with Alexia close to him. The barn behind them burned into an inferno, and he could hear the squeals of the animals unable to stand the heat. For a moment, it confused him; there was so much going on, and his senses were on full flight.
Alexia took his hand amid the confusion, running for a military jeep she had spotted. She heard shots behind her, and she wondered if she and Ryker had gone that far. Ryker pushed her into a Humvee, the same Humvee where he had killed its driver earlier with a knife to his chest.
She was horrified to see a soldier slumped over a wheel. Ryker quickly pushed him away, grabbing the knife from the soldier’s chest as he did, and blood flicked in the car’s interiors. For a moment, she wondered if he could drive. He started the engine and accelerated, the tires squealing against the muck.
Ryker drove like a madman, cruising past eighty miles per hour. Alexia didn’t say anything, in shock and in fear.
“Put your seatbelt on,” Ryker shouted to her, looking at the rearview mirror. Of course, no one could catch up to them unless they got extra wires. He had made sure to destroy the rest of the jeeps, hoping to get to this one. It was a high-risk action he was willing to trade his life with.
She looked around wildly. What was a seatbelt? How did one put it on? Miraculously, she fastened it, clutching onto the sides of her seat as Ryker drove further and further away from the farm. From the side mirror, she saw the place engulfed in flames. She fought back tears, that feeling of guilt over Lydia and John’s deaths crashing into her.
For almost two hours, they didn’t speak a word to each other. Ryker kept looking back at the skies, expecting to see helicopters chasing after them. His eyes were beginning to close when they spotted the figure of a mountain from afar. Ryker stopped the car.
“We have to get out. They’ll be looking for this car, and we have to lose the tracks we made.”
He carelessly stopped by a ditch, and she got out as well, her nerves fluttering. Were they still behind them? She was afraid she was going to throw up. Lydia and John’s heads exploding in front of her played over and over again in her mind.
She wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t. She looked at Ryker, whose eyes remained steady, determined to steer clear of their intended track. There was little she could do or say, so she followed him. They began to walk, the daylight fading fast with the approaching storm in the horizon.
Whatever Alexia did, Ryker thought, was sure to halt operations for a while. Her mere touch had reverted Caliban to his human form. It was as if she had anti-werebeing DNA, even though he knew her blood helped their kind greatly. Snow fell from the skies, heavy snow.
Ryker saw some wild bison up ahead, clustered to keep themselves protected and warm. There were no wolves here, but he was a werebeing, and he knew he had to shift and feed on something raw. Suddenly, he collapsed, his vision blurring.
“Ryker!” Alexia gasped, holding onto his shoulders. He pushed her away, and she saw her hands were filled with blood. “You’ve been shot!”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t.” She leaned in closer and saw two bullet holes on his jacket. “We have to get help-"
“Where?” Ryker snapped at her. “We can’t go back. They’re dead.”
His voice was filled with emotion, the first she had heard from him. He was grieving, she knew, grieving like her, but he controlled it better than she did.
“Shift,” she told him, holding onto his shoulder.
He shook his head. “There’s no time for that.”
“We won’t have time if you’re dead,” Alexia told him gently.
Ryker shook his head, trying to focus. Couldn’t she just touch him and turn him into a werebear? If she could revert them back into human form…he finally found himself nodding, knowing he was too weak to resist the need to shift. To survive, he had to shift. To take care of her, he had to turn into a werebear, no matter how painful it was at first.
Ryker took a deep breath and stripped off his clothing completely as Alexia closed her eyes for a moment. Once she heard him grunt, she quickly grabbed his clothes and placed them inside his backpack. She saw him lumber away from her, ready to kill the first bison that went his way.
Alexia had waited a mere twenty minutes under a canopy of trees when Ryker’s werebear form sauntered back to her, apparently better than earlier. She wondered if her touch would work. She went in closer to touch his muzzle, stroking his fur under her bruised and scratched hands. He didn’t shift. Ryker shook his head, thinking it was a fluke.
She spun around, leaving his backpack open. It was colder than it had been earlier, with the first drops of rain falling on them. She looked at the vehicle, wondering if Ryker was truly willing to abandon it when they needed shelter the most. Apparently, Ryker thought the same. He motioned for Alexia to get in the vehicle. He would drive this jeep until it ran out of gas and hope they weren’t hot on his tracks.
“Can you check if there’s some gasoline in the back of the jeep?” he asked her.
She nodded without saying anything. At least she knew what it smelled like. She fumbled around for it, finally grabbing a full canister of gasoline. “Is this it?”
Ryker nodded. That was one worry down. With this much gas, they could probably get to the Idaho border where they would be safer and deep in the wilderness again.
The Humvee was military grade, and Ryker knew it had trackers. He reached for the bottom of the steering wheel, looking for wires, ignoring the pain in his chest (he had taken out and thrown the bullets away before he’d shifted), then he found a circular machine. It was the size of a penny, stuck onto a board. At least the mafia had taught him well enough to survive against the military, which was what Mr. Toretti was good for, the damned traitor.
He threw it out of the window and into a deep ditch filled with snow, and then he began to drive.