The WereGames II_Salvation Page 3

  The cave felt surprisingly warmer than the building they had slept in for the last three days. It was dark, and she could feel the cold ground. There was just enough room for Ryker to lie down flat.

  “Get some sleep,” he said in a voice that sounded deep, yet distant. She nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t mind sharing his body warmth tonight. She snuggled close to his belly, her head cradled by her arms. In less than ten minutes, she was fast asleep.

  She was clearly tired, he thought. And so was he. But this was only going to be the start of a difficult journey. He couldn’t very well shift all the time she felt cold or vulnerable to fatigue… He listened to her heart beating, slowing down to a restful pace. He liked hearing her heartbeat when she was calm; it soothed him as well. He hadn’t eaten fattening prey in a while, something he knew his body needed, and he figured he would in the wee hours of the morning. Bears were probably nonexistent in this part of the state, so he had to be careful.

  He needed meat, real and raw. The animal side in him was begging for it, and he knew he had to appease it, lest there be uncontrolled shifting and the rage that went with it. He didn’t want to hurt her accidentally. He could still recall that moment where he’d desperately tried to stop the change, knowing there was another girl inside the enclosed space with him…

  He had closed his eyes, feeling nausea progress through him like quick-acting poison, and then that head-splitting pain came next. His hands shook, his whole body quivered violently. Stop, you don’t want to hurt her, he thought again and again, feeling his jaw about to come off. He was hunched over; his back seemed to grow out of normal human proportion. His spine cracked somewhere, lengthening and thickening, as did his bones.

  Unbearable heat rose in his body’s core, and he felt like he was about to suffocate. He had forgotten how it had felt, and now his body was recalling why he’d avoided shifting in the first place. Ryker huffed, and then he roared, a voice that sounded animal, yet like a human in suffering, all at the same time. Tearing his hospital pajamas apart, he stood anguished, trying to tear his own flesh from his body.

  “Don’t,” she told him without saying anything. “Don’t shift…”

  Ryker looked back at her, anguish in his eyes, his breathing coming in rasps. Don’t shift, her voice magnified in his head. He didn’t want to hurt her…

  Looking back, Ryker thought that the little girl’s death had been the trigger, and it didn’t help that she was being tortured to coax him into shifting. He hadn’t eaten something bloody and meaty in days that time; heck, it didn’t even matter if it was raw fish. His bear-self would have enjoyed that.

  They knew he was weak from the tests, knew his mind was vulnerable to their torture. He shifted, regrettably, and his whole life, that life he had carefully crafted, had been turned upside down. He had avoided government detection for so many years, only for his will to crumble against the government once more. Had his will been that weak? Or were their memories just too much for him to bear?

  Dr. Delaney had told him that Alexia could make a werebeing regress into his or her human form. He still didn’t want to risk it, though. Her blood, however, made him regain his strength and stamina; and it was something he didn’t want to abuse. Blood was still blood, no matter from whom it came, and it made it all the more taboo to know that Alexia could give him and other werebeings that second wind.

  He hadn’t slept beside her in a while, not since the time they escaped. He was usually content at having her sleep near him but not too near. He still felt uncomfortable about skin-to-skin contact, but her breathing and heartbeat slowly made him feel at ease. The last time he had slept beside someone was with his mother. He had heard of reports about children being forcibly taken from their parents once it was found out that they were werebeings.

  His mother assured him he would be safe, and he felt safer knowing his mother had no qualms of lulling him to sleep. It was something childish, but it was a memory he cherished. Was he trying to build memories with Alexia this time? To compensate for his long dead childhood? An idea formed in his mind, an idea he didn’t like. What if he pretended they were a young couple? Surely it would be something of lesser suspicion to people…

  Ryker knew he would have to discuss this with Alexia in the morning. It would need careful planning, inserted with a few details to make it seem real for them both. They would have to stop being awkward, though. It was clear they were awkward with each other, despite the month-long journey that they had already taken together.

  He knew she dreamed and she did, vividly. He could see it on her face, those bad memories. Had she never had good memories, like he did? It was impossible to think that no one could have loved her, even as a child. In hindsight, she wasn’t a difficult person to like. He had expected her to be half-feral, even, being stuck in a facility since birth.

  It turned out she was educated, as educated as someone who had gone to a proper school. Dr. Delaney had taught her things she would never have learned elsewhere. He had missed out on that in the last eight years of his life, never setting foot inside a proper library facility until he had reached sixteen, when he had been given a pass with false identification by his former boss. It had been a highlight; working for the mafia meant he could have long hours to read for leisure. He had taught himself new words, taught himself to read once more.

  Raven had always wanted him to become a reader, like she had been. Growing up with them, Ryker wasn’t sure if it was out of respect that he read, but he read voraciously. It was a habit that never went away. He almost smiled at the memory of his mother forcing him to read Moby Dick at the age of nine…

  He questioned his existence in his lonely and quiet moments, which were many as an orphan. Had he been orphaned twice? Or had his first parents not wanted him at all? Raven and Philip had loved a child who was not their own; they loved him for all that he was, despite the shifting, despite the fear of harboring a werebeing. He tried to remember his life before Philip and Raven came along, but all he could remember was Raven’s outstretched arms, the smell of warm food, and their kind voices the first night they had seen him.

  Why was it so difficult to remember a childhood without Raven and Philip in it? It was because they were the only ones there for him when he was vulnerable and alone… He was alone now, alone despite the fact that Alexia was with him. He knew she felt the same way.

  It was something unspoken between them, a longing for some happiness, happiness that came with being imprisoned in that facility or happiness with roaming free in the wilderness or, perhaps, happiness in knowing they both had a bed to crash into in those exhausting days…

  Had he taken it away from her? If she had no happiness, he could have left her with some comfort at least. There was no comfort here with him. He didn’t know how to manage the wide range of emotions that crashed into them every day. She didn’t say anything, but he could feel she had regret about leaving the facility. He knew she was conscious of him doing all the hard work, knew she wanted to help in the least. She listened to him, despite knowing she could do nothing but wait.

  Ryker wanted to give her some sense of responsibility. That was how humans worked; only, he couldn’t trust himself with giving her any sense of obligation. He was afraid she would end up hurting herself. He knew better… he looked at her one last time before falling into a deep and well-deserved sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He had been renamed Test Subject 1013 ever since she’d known him, destined to be put in the WereGames when he was deemed prepared by the facility. It was no fair fight to the other werebeings caught and forced into the games, but that was the whole point of it: to see which of these genetically enhanced werebeings would come out as alpha. He was one of those werebeings, plucked from obscurity and poverty as a child with a recessive mutation that had to be let out.

  He was known as Caliban sometimes. A129 called him Caliban, rather than 1013, when the adults weren’t around. He had always been a serious child, one wh
o had sparse interactions with Alexia, but they spoke when they could. It was part of the tests, from interaction to side-by-side open surgeries.

  Caliban had seen her first as a tiny girl with dark hair and deep grey eyes flecked with blue. He had once thought there were diamonds inside her eyes. The moment he saw her, he knew he was going to have some sort of refuge in her, no matter how miniscule it seemed at the time. She suffered in silence the first time he had been put beside her for experiments. It awed him that she could stay put through all the torture they inflicted on her.

  At first, they were made to eat meals together in one big room, unknowingly studied by the doctors in those moments that they could interact. There were many of them, he recalled, but he could distinctly remember Alexia, no matter the tests and torture. He had learned to slip into another world every time they battered him till he became unconscious, and many times, Alexia’s face was in that world.

  Once he made it out of the facility, he would rise to the rank of general and take her out of that place. Maybe he would marry her, too -- if she wanted to have him.

  ‘Who would have wanted to have him?’ he once thought. He had arrived as a scrawny kid with no manners and illiterate to boot. Caliban had worked in a scrap yard before he had been whisked away to the laboratory. He was a sad and angry child; he remembered Alexia telling him that. He bit anyone who tried to approach him, growling in all his childish fury.

  The recessive genes were traced in a day, and after that, they didn’t stop until he shifted into his true form. Alexia had an inkling of what he was the moment she began to talk to him.

  “You’re a weretiger,” she whispered to him, not knowing there were many listening devices placed in the room where the kids were put.

  He scoffed at her at first. Was this how she made friends? Or was it some warning of who he truly was? That he wasn’t just some kid working his life away in a scrap heap?

  “Go away,” he told her, wanting to wring her throat. There was a rage in him that couldn’t be quelled. He had imagined hurting other people before, like his own boss in the scrapyard. She slowly reached out to touch his hand, and he recoiled, shocked to hear her voice without her opening her mouth.

  She had told him she was just like him, one who couldn’t remember her past. This was the only life she had ever known, and it was a life he would grow accustomed to soon. Alexia had seen him kill his first human after months of testing. That killing surfaced after he shifted for the first time, a shift that was in his truest form. It hurt so much, he needed to hurt someone else, too.

  How old had he been? He had barely turned ten. Alexia had wished him a ‘happy birthday’ just two nights ago, and she had been the only person to do so.

  He remembered how good it felt to kill, although a voice at the back of his mind told him it was wrong. He knew he just had to. Trapped in solitary confinement for the next month, he missed Alexia terribly; the moment he saw her again, he wanted to run to her to embrace her, only he froze in place. She bit her lower lip, as if trying to tell him everything was going to be okay.

  Looking back, he knew she was trying to help him come to terms with his werebeing nature. Alexia had that rare quality of making people feel loved and respected even if they didn’t know they deserved it. There was a part of him that fractured, knowing she was now wanted by the regime. He still felt rage run through him at the thought of that Ryker bastard taking her away when she had been alive and well in that facility under Dr. Wallace’s excellent care.

  Caliban closed his eyes as he lay down on his bunker, remembering every moment he had with Alexia before he had been taken away for military training. He had passed the program, he had survived the tests that took a toll on every werebeing child, emotionally, physically, and mentally. He was proud he hadn’t been put down for being an undesirable test subject.

  The exchange for his success was never seeing Alexia again. He had almost seen her. He had caught her scent. It frustrated him that he hadn’t been able to save her sooner. He should have known about it. Then, he would have defied orders from his superiors. He would have defied the president’s son.

  Too late now, he thought morosely. His hunter’s instinct had grown since getting a whiff of X014’s scent, as well. He wanted Ryker dead. Ryker Locklear, an adopted son, the boy who killed his parents by default. All because they adopted him, all because they had the pitiful idea of loving a werebeing. That was the problem in mingling with humans who had no special DNA. He found them disgusting, even if all of them were his superiors. There were moments that he imagined killing them, taking over their positions, just to show them who the true alpha was.

  Then, he would feel that soldier’s guilt. He had been trained to follow, and follow he would. But how could he with Alexia’s life at stake? He loved Alexia; he realized this early on. He loved everything about her; he loved the way she soothed his hurts, loved the way she taught him how to read and write patiently. It was a love that never died, and he hoped it wouldn’t with her impending death.

  *

  Four days later

  “Lydia,” the old man called to his wife as she made breakfast in the kitchen.

  She looked up to see her husband of forty years with an excited yet anxious look on his face. “What is it?” she asked John.

  “There are young’uns sleeping in the barn,” he told her in a near whisper.

  “Like children?”

  “More like teenagers,” he said.

  “Are they armed?” Lydia asked, eyeing the shotgun hanging above the door.

  “Doesn’t look like it. Seemed like they had a rough couple of days, though,” John replied. Lydia quickly put on a winter coat and walked out with her husband. He carried a rifle, just in case. They slowly crept in the back entrance of the barn.

  The teenagers were fast asleep, probably too tired from the trek they had made. The elderly couple observed the two who were asleep on a mound of hay. The horses were restless, snorting and moving about. Lydia walked closer, seeing a young woman nestled close to the young man’s chest. She was a pretty thing, and if her daughter were still alive, she would be around the same age as her.

  Suddenly, Ryker snapped awake, pulling Alexia close to him, ready to shift. How could he have slept so deeply? He should have felt people arriving at least a hundred feet away. His heart pounded, and he felt saliva pool in his mouth. He was starting to see red now, but then he bit onto his lower lip for control. There was a shocked, old couple in front of them. The old man had hidden his rifle behind them, so as not to startle them too much. The horses began to stomp on the ground, and a few whinnied.

  “We have an extra bedroom upstairs if you two are in need of sleep,” Lydia began in a warm voice. She took a step forward, wanting to get a closer look at them. The boy was probably no more than nineteen years old, and he had ice cold blue eyes that sent shivers down her spine. He didn’t have a friendly face, as opposed to the young lady beside him.

  “No, thank you,” Ryker found himself saying. He let go of Alexia, and he stood up, helping her up as well.

  “Oh, you’re bleeding,” Lydia gasped, looking at Alexia.

  Alexia had become so immune to the feeling of nosebleeds, she didn’t notice it was happening now. She quickly wiped it away, using her dirty sleeve.

  “Come, it looks like rest isn’t the only thing you two need,” John told them. He had sized them up the moment he saw them and figured they weren’t killers or anything, but it seemed like they were escaping from something. Some forbidden love, perhaps?

  “We won’t hurt you,” Lydia coaxed. The girl was more trusting when she held out her hand. She held onto the girl’s hand, and it was ice cold. “Oh gosh, come inside; we’ll stoke a fire and give you a warm bath.”

  Wordlessly, they followed the old couple into the house, side by side. The house was no mansion, just an ordinary farmer’s house, painted with a red roof and white-washed wooden walls. It was a comforting house, and the moment Alexia ente
red it, she was confused if she wanted a warm bath first or a warm bed or warm food.

  “You’ll need to eat first,” Lydia told them as they entered the kitchen. There were homey touches everywhere in the house, from the personal watercolor paintings to the pottery displayed in the cabinets.

  Ryker felt his mouth water as he smelled the bacon and eggs on a skillet. Bread popped out from a toaster suddenly, startling Ryker.

  “You okay there, kid?” John asked.

  Ryker nodded.

  “I’m John Jameson, and this here is my wife, Lydia. Now, what’s your story?” he asked the guests.

  “Story?” Ryker repeated, suddenly feeling dumb. It was time to put their fabricated one into good use. He looked at Alexia.

  “We ran away from our town,” Alexia suddenly spoke up.

  Ryker shot her a look, but he said nothing.

  “What for? You two done something wrong?” Lydia asked with her back turned. She was busy transferring the breakfast onto plates.

  “Nothing wrong to us,” Alexia replied. “My guardians didn’t want him as my fiancé.”

  John nodded. So, he had guessed correctly. It was a sort of forbidden love. “And what about your parents, son?”

  Son. The last time anyone called him son was Philip. This couple exuded the same warmth as his parents. It filled him with a sense of foreboding. They had to leave immediately. “Same,” he replied, trying to sound as natural as possible. He hadn’t expected Alexia to be so good at it.

  “Alright, stories later, food first,” Lydia announced.

  Alexia ate slowly, afraid she would get an upset stomach. Ryker didn’t care. He ate a lot; he ate so much that Lydia stood up in the middle of their meal to cook a second batch of eggs and toast. John smiled at Lydia. It was a funny thing to see. Why, the boy was so skinny, but he ate like a horse.

  “Would you like some coffee?” John asked Alexia.

  Alexia looked at it warily. Coffee smelled nice, but it looked weird. Brown water that smelled nice… she nodded, unable to decline the offer. She saw Mr. Jameson pour them each a cup filled with coffee. She stared at it at first, not knowing what to do with it next. She saw Ryker reaching for a cube of sugar, placing one in his drink. She followed suit, down to the whole stirring of the coffee.