CHAPTER 16
There was a little boy, and he was scared and he was shaking. She heard shouts all around her, and she was confused. Why were the grown-ups angry? She saw a bearded man whose eyes blazed with anger. There was a woman crying. What was the older woman crying about? Did she feel sorry for the little boy who was hunched over on the carpeted floor, wailing for some pain that she herself couldn’t see was being inflicted?
She took a step forward and saw a large mirror behind her brother. He was her brother, wasn’t he? Only family could make her feel that wounded as well. She was a little girl. How could she be this small? The boy was crying, violently shuddering this time. He was calling out for someone, and yet she couldn’t understand whom he was calling out for.
“Alexia!” he growled, his eyes turning red in a single breath.
Alexia bolted awake, sweating from head to toe. Wildly, she looked around, her first instinct to reach out for Ryker.
“She’s awake, kid,” an old man said in a hushed tone.
Alexia readied herself to bolt out of the bed and run far away; then she saw Ryker step into view. He was bare from the waist up, covered in sweat. He had an axe in his hand. Her voice was caught up in her throat. For a moment, she was afraid he had left her alone. For a moment, she was afraid that someone had finally caught up to them and took her instead. She felt ashamed at that thought, knowing how selfish it was. So what if he left? She had no hold over his choices…
Ryker stared at her, observing her pallor and her eyes. They were better than the last two days -- that was for sure. It didn’t mean they had the luxury to stay here though. Ryker had chopped up firewood for Jensen at the back of his cabin, taking the initiative to check for threats. The back of the cabin was nestled against a small cliff that slid down to an even thicker part of the forest. At least that part meant they couldn’t be completely surrounded…
“You hungry?” the stranger asked.
She stared at the man, with his wizened face and wispy graying hair. He had soft blue eyes, a contrast to Ryker’s icy ones. His face screamed congenial, but then again, so had Dr. Wallace’s. She said nothing, waiting for Ryker to move closer to her; at least that was a semblance of safety, was it not?
“I guess she’s still tired.” The old man bustled about in his tiny kitchen, and the moment he opened the pot, Alexia thought she could smell heaven.
“You look like crap,” Ryker commented, pleased she was awake after two days of rest.
“What she looks like is dehydrated,” Jensen told Ryker. “Could you be so kind as to get her a glass of water?”
Ryker sighed, closed the door, and walked to a jar on a wooden table, scooping some water out of it using a ladle.
“How long-?” she began to ask, her voice hoarse. She could taste blood as she licked her lips. They felt cracked and drier than the deserts in the pictures she had seen.
“Around two days. Well, more like two and a half days,” Ryker told her. “You conveniently fainted, and Mr. Jensen here found us.”
He gave her a mug filled with fresh spring water, and she drank it slowly, afraid her grip on the mug would loosen. Ryker took it from her, seeing it wobble.
Her gaze slowly drifted to Jensen, who was busy pouring some soup into a bowl. He looked at her and smiled.
“Best you drink up first,” Jensen told her. “How are you feeling?”
She bit her lower lip. “Tired.”
“Ha,” Jensen said good-naturedly, “we all are. Now, eat and drink. Apologies for the simple fare; my condiments aren’t commercialized.”
He shoved the bowl on the table, motioning for her to get up. Shaking a little, she held onto the edges of the bed. Ryker stood close by, determined not to touch her again, but still wary she would collapse.
She made her way to the table, holding onto the furniture to get there. Jensen nodded at her, signaling for her to eat. Ryker stood up and ate his meal in silence as Jensen engaged in lighthearted conversation.
“So, what’s your name?” Jensen asked her. “I’m Jensen, Joseph Jensen, former professor, University of California.”
“Alexia,” she said, looking at Ryker.
Jensen saw this. “Oh, he didn’t tell me your name. I guess he’s not a snitch. But he did tell me you two aren’t safe, that someone’s out to get you.”
Ryker looked away, busying himself with his soup.
“There are a lot of them, I guess,” Alexia began, after taking her first sip.
It was simple, homey fare, surprisingly better than the food she had been used to. She began wolfing it down, realizing that she had never been so hungry in her entire life. She finished her bowl in minutes, much to Jensen’s delight.
“Seconds?” Jensen asked her.
She nodded, feeling her cheeks go warm.
“That’s good. It means you’re feeling better,” Jensen said, grabbing her bowl. “So, kids, what do you plan to do after this?”
Alexia found herself looking at Ryker again, who didn’t look back at her.
“We’re leaving today,” Ryker said. “We’ve stayed here too long, and we want you safe.”
“Nonsense,” Jensen said. “Overstaying is irrelevant. You two need a roof over your heads.”
Alexia closed her eyes. “Sir, your kindness is immeasurable, but we can’t risk your life for our comfort.”
Jensen broke into a smile. “You’re rather eloquent for someone who’s escaped a facility, and yes, your friend here told me about that. Did you have classes or something?”
“A doctor,” she began, closing her eyes momentarily, “a doctor taught me… she gave me books. I think she’s dead.”
“The important thing now is you won’t get caught,” Jensen said to them, “you shouldn’t. I won’t ask where exactly you’re headed, but I understand you have to pass through some states.”
“You’re a werebeing,” Alexia suddenly said, “but you haven’t shifted in years.”
Jensen smiled. “What gave me away?”
“I can tell.”
“Is that why they kept you in that place? The one in New York?”
“I didn’t even know we were in New York. I had no idea where I was,” she replied. “They kept me for a lot of reasons, but I guess they just wanted me dead in the end, after I’d served my purpose. Isn’t that what we’re here for?”
Jensen looked thoughtful. “Maybe, maybe not. The world’s not as small as we’d like to think, my dear. Who knows, you and this young lad could be destined for something better than just escape?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, sir.”
“Please, call me Jensen.”
“I don’t know, Jensen,” Alexia corrected herself. “I don’t know much about this world. I was so enclosed there, I couldn’t even see proper sunlight.”
“Well, here you can get all the sunshine you need, provided you’re careful.”
“Out of the question,” Ryker murmured. “We’re leaving in a few.”
He looked out of the tiny window by the kitchen, his senses provoked.
Jensen sighed. “Alright, but you need to bring some sustenance along. Just enough until you find your next stop. She needs to rest once in a while. I’m no doctor, but young lady, you’re quite pale, and still too thin to traverse.”
“We’ll manage,” Ryker quickly said.
Jensen sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll just grab a few things for you to take. I have extra clothes here somewhere and an extra blanket, too. The village is a good twenty miles west of here. Best you avoid it, and don’t hitch rides on trains or cross country trucks.”
Alexia found herself nodding. Ryker suggested everything; she had no idea what she was supposed to do. There had been a lot of observing and internalizing for her in the seven days since she had set foot outside of the facility.
She watched as Jensen began packing some fruit and potatoes into a small, worn-out satchel that bore the name of the university where he used to work at. She looked back at Ryker, who had his arms crossed as he stared at Jensen.
She slowly stood up, wondering if Jensen wanted to come along with them. Ryker wasn’t her boss, anyway. Before she could step forward, Ryker suddenly lunged for her, shouting, “Get down!”
Alexia saw Jensen’s head blow up just like how a tomato would when riddled with bullets. She found herself screaming, but no sound came out, and she landed on the floor with a loud thud. The shots continued, and Ryker kept her down as he looked around for an escape. He began to crawl for the crude bathroom cum toilet that Jensen owned, pushing Alexia in front of him, frantically pointing to the open door that led to it. Alexia heaved her way to it, the floor riddled with splinters of wood, broken glass, and paper.
She sat, hunched, shaking in fear as Ryker crawled up to her. Ryker kicked the wooden toilet seat away with one leg, exposing the pipes and the dirt underneath the house. The acrid and rotten smell hit their nostrils, but the urgency to get to safer ground was greater. Ryker crawled into the exposed earth, his arms outstretched as Alexia slid down with him.
Alexia looked down, her feet teetering at the edge of the cliff. It was only about twenty feet down to thick trees. Ryker grabbed Alexia in his arms, and he slid down without another moment wasted. They landed on the muddy earth with a thud, and Ryker took the brunt of it. He quickly got up.
“Run; run and don’t look back,” he told her.
Alexia nodded, bile rising up her throat, like fear. He pushed her forward, and her legs began to move, as if on their own accord. She ran through thickets, ran through cold mud, ran through branches and bushes that thwacked and scratched her. She ran and ran until the sounds of guns firing and of glass and wood breaking seemed to drift further and further away. She stopped, gasping for breath.
“Don’t stop running,” Ryker said from behind her.
She took a breath and continued to run, eventually stopping as they reached the edge of a roaring river. Ryker knew they would be caught unless they deliberately lost them again in the water. Alexia had been unconscious the last time, and this time, she had no choice.
“Jump,” he told her.
Alexia froze, knowing she didn’t know how to swim at all.
Ryker grabbed her hand and dragged her into the cold water, their feet landing first. He fought to keep her head up, warbling that she shouldn’t struggle.
“Try to stay calm! Don’t struggle; you’ll drown!” he shouted to her.
Alexia’s eyes were wide open, terrified at the vicious tide that slapped on her body and face. The cold stung her skin, and she was swallowing water. Her grip on Ryker’s arm was loosening, and he fought against the tide, holding onto her arm with all he had.
With one mighty lurch, Ryker pulled Alexia close to his body, embracing her in his arms, close to his chest.
“We’re not gonna die here, you hear me?”
*
Caliban shook his head as he stepped inside the house, just mere minutes after they had reduced it into a scrap heap. He could no longer smell them, but he could smell blood. Someone had been hurt, and he couldn’t pinpoint whether it was Alexia or X014.
He kicked at the old man’s body, riddled with bullets, his head no longer recognizable as a human head -- it looked more like pulp now. He looked at it disdainfully; they continued to look around. It was a tiny home, no larger than his quarters at the military facility.
“They escaped using the toilet, sir,” one soldier told him breathlessly.
Of course they’d escape, no matter how disgusting the means. Caliban almost laughed at the irony of the escape. They had made a mess, and X014 and Alexia escaped via a mess. X014 had no plans of returning to the lab, and Caliban presumed Alexia was being used as a blood source, a means to thrive if ever he needed to regain his strength. He had been briefed an hour after Alexia had been taken by X014.
Ryker Locklear, the bastard who had nearly killed him. Nearly. Dr. Wallace had made sure he had gotten out of the facility with nary a pulse. They had done everything they could to save him, even if the viewers had presumed he was dead. It had taken him a full month to come out of a coma, and another month of physical therapy, along with new internal organs salvaged from unwilling donors.
He knew he was alive for a reason, and that reason was to hunt Ryker down, retrieve Alexia, and finally get that promotion he had long deserved. Caliban was a young soldier, not quite twenty-two years old, according to the records he had been shown. He had known Alexia ever since he could remember, but he had left the facility at age sixteen to be trained as a soldier. He had told himself he would come back for her one day.
Caliban had wanted to win and had wanted to request that Alexia be set free once he won the WereGames. She was the only person who had shown him kindness inside that lab when they had been tortured as children. No matter the tests they did, he made sure he never forgot her.
How could you forget someone who taught you how to read? How could you forget someone who soothed your pains? Who gave you blood so you could heal? Never, he thought. Retrieving Alexia was what mattered.
He caught his reflection on a piece of broken mirror, dangling on a wall. There were two ugly scars that ran down his cheek, the newer one a result of Ryker’s claws. His shock of white hair had increased after the games, covering more than half of the hair on his head by now.
Caliban ran a tongue over his incisors, thinking of their next course of action. He answered to Lt. Stephen Caledon, an officer far from being a general, but he was the president’s son all the same. He quickly reached for his phone, dialing Stephen’s direct line.
“Officer,” Stephen responded in two rings.
“They got away,” Caliban told him, seeing Stephen’s face on a hologram screen.
“Find them,” Stephen ordered, with a slight frown. “You and your team have been in pursuit for a week; this was the best lead you had, and yet you let them slip through.”
“It won’t happen again, sir,” Caliban replied.
“I need a full report by 1800 hours.”
Caliban nodded, and Stephen ended the call. He cursed under his breath as he looked at his twenty-strong team, all highly trained human soldiers who had been given orders to shoot both on sight.
There was something he had wanted to suggest but could not find the time or words to say -- to Lt. Caledon, at least. General Magnus Caledon II was not his direct superior, but Magnus II listened and considered, and that was something Stephen never did. Stephen was a military man; Magnus II was a statesman. Caliban knew the difference, even if he had limited education.
Perhaps, Magnus II would listen. Perhaps. He had seen the missive that Alexia was to be killed for threatening the government, for the possibility of the exposure of a top-secret project. He was part of that; he had been kept from the world at first, and then trained, until he had learned to enjoy his duties. It could happen to Alexia, right? She could be useful for other things. Alexia had to survive. He had to take her in, but perhaps the laboratory could find some other use for her. The government was endlessly innovating, and Alexia was no stupid person…
He recalled those days when she had taught him to read and write, patiently teaching him letter for letter, and then word for word. She had made him laugh in those moments that he had wanted to cry from the pain of what they did to him. He never once saw her cry in front of him, even if she had been subjected to the same torture he had gotten.
In hindsight, he realized, she was stronger than he was in all aspects, even if he had the capability to turn into a werebeing. She’d had that resilience as a child that he himself didn’t have. Caliban knew that resilience still wouldn’t save her. They would catch up to X014 and Alexia. It was why he was trained to be a werebeing soldier in the first place.
*
Alexia blearily opened her eyes, spitting out water as they landed on shore. She looked at Ryker and saw he was unconscious, with visible wounds everywhere. He was bleeding, and although it was not much, she knew he was beaten up quite badly. She looked around her and saw they were heavily surrounded by trees. It was getting dark. The skies were tinged with the last remnants of an orange hue, and a cold wind had picked up. Alexia shook Ryker as he lay on the sand.
“Wake up,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Please, wake up…”
Ryker didn’t move. She bent down, closer to his mouth. She could hear him breathing. Alexia unsteadily stood up, wondering if they were near civilization, or at least near another hermit’s cabin… who was she kidding? Mr. Jensen had been killed because of them. Alexia felt the weight of what their presence had done to someone innocent. She fought back tears and continued to shake Ryker awake.
She would not be able to lift him, not with his frame and her condition.
“Ryker,” she whispered again.
Ryker’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned a little, and he tried to stand up, using his elbows as support. He collapsed back to the ground. His face hit muddy sand. Alexia slipped her hand underneath his chin, and Ryker tried to sit up again. Alexia took a deep breath and tried to support his upper body, leaning him against a boulder.
“How long- how long have I been out?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “We have to move…”
He nodded and took a deep breath, groaning once more and clutching his arm.
“Just shift, Ryker,” she told him. “Shift, so you’ll heal faster.”
“No,” he mumbled, trying to get up but collapsing on the ground again.
“They’re tracking us; they know where we are,” she told him, wishing she could lift him.
Ryker closed his eyes and took another breath, standing up unsteadily, wondering how far the government’s pursuit team was from them. His back was still supported by the boulder, and he looked up at the skies, expecting a helicopter or drone to hover above them anytime.
They had to hide.
“That’s the last river we jump in,” he muttered, hobbling forward.
Alexia supported him as best she could, but he shrugged her away.
“I’m fine,” he growled. “Go on ahead; I’ll be behind you.”
Alexia slipped away from him, hesitant to walk first.
He shooed her forward. “Go on. We need shelter. This looks like it’s going to be a cold night.”
Ryker told himself he wouldn’t shift. This was nothing compared to his injuries during the games. Alexia stopped every few feet, waiting for him to catch up to her. She was walking at a snail’s pace, her hip heavily bruised. Ryker had done his best to protect her amid the rush of water and the sharp and thick rocks, something she hadn’t thanked him for, knowing he was just going to brush her off.
An hour later, Ryker told them they needed to rest. They sat under a large tree, its gnarled roots snaking on the ground. The roots were large enough to hide them, and Ryker felt a flood of relief as he lay down.
“He was there,” he suddenly told her. “I could smell him.”
“Who?”
“X013.”
Alexia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Caliban was alive. She had thought he had died… but now he was out to kill her. She was an enemy of the state. She felt a pang of sadness, knowing he was just following orders. Perhaps, there was an animal rage in him that could never be eliminated, no matter how close they had been as children.
“You knew him?” Ryker continued, his eyes still closed.
“Once,” she found herself saying. “We were little… we were experimented on together.”
“Only, he grew up as a soldier?”
“They made him into one. He had no choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“His werebeing genes were suppressed, but sector 12 wanted his out. He could have lived the rest of his life as a normal human, but they chose him. Just like they chose me. Just like how they chose you,” her lips trembled. “They didn’t give Mr. Jensen a chance to live.”
“Chances are given only when they see fit.”
“That’s why they want me dead -- because I’m no longer fit,” Alexia said in a quiet voice.
Ryker had nothing to say because it was true. They no longer saw her as usable. Dr. Delaney had said it herself.
“Lately, we’ve had other younger, smaller children who exhibit the same prowess as she does, which is why they want her terminated. She hasn’t done anything significant for them lately. And when there are no remarkable results…” Dr. Delaney’s voice echoed in his head.
What kind of results did they want? Hadn’t she given more than her fair share of suffering and pain? Hadn’t she given enough of her blood to hundreds of werebeings?
“Whatever reasons they have, it doesn’t mean you have to be dead. You decide what happens to your life now that you’re out of that hell hole,” Ryker told her.
“If that was hell, I don’t think I’ve seen enough of it…” Alexia said, remembering the way Mr. Jensen’s head had exploded.
“There’s more to hell than just death,” Ryker told her, opening his eyes. “Hell is life here on earth. Hell is shifting into something that’s hiding deep inside you. Hell is seeing people you love die.”
Alexia closed her eyes and tried hard not to mind the cold. Yes, that was hell, too. Hell was seeing your friends being taken away, never to be seen again. Hell was a sterile room with a crowd watching over you as you lost your senses and your blood. Hell was just being alive.
Why were they here, if only for suffering? Why was she even born, if her use was only for less than half a century? She couldn’t imagine growing old in that facility. She wondered what her life would have been like if she had been born a werebear. At least they were turned into soldiers if they survived the tests. She could have had a larger glimpse of the world…
“Don’t dwell on that laboratory, or on the past,” Ryker suddenly said, cutting off her train of thought. “It won’t do you any good.”
He slowly sat up, feeling his injuries heal little by little. “We have to move.”
“But it’s barely been-” Alexia stopped, not knowing exactly how long they had rested. Then she nodded and slowly stood up. The darkness had engulfed the forest, and she needed to follow Ryker this time to make sure the path was clear.
There were barely any stars in the sky, which Ryker liked, but it made Alexia feel unsafe.
“We need to find a cave of sorts. No more abandoned houses for now,” he told her. He was hesitant to grab her hand in the gloom, despite knowing she was blind here. He felt her fingers trail up to his sleeve, as if searching for some reassurance that he hadn’t left her alone. He almost found himself rolling his eyes.
“You don’t have to tear the shirt apart,” he told her, “it’s the only change of clothes I have left.”
Her hold on him loosened, but still, she clung onto him as they began their walk in total darkness.