The WereGames II_Salvation Read online

  “Kid,” John began, “you and Juliet need a proper send-off for when you leave.”

  *

  Iowa, same day

  Caliban was waiting inside his makeshift tent, camping with a few werebeing soldiers and human military men, when they saw a helicopter from the distance. It was a military copter, no doubt, with its sleek black paint and nearly silent rotor.

  He quickly went out, heading for an open field with two men in tow. Stephen Caliban stepped out along with a squad in his stead.

  “Sir,” Caliban greeted, raising his hand for a snappy salute. “I didn’t expect you here.”

  “I didn’t expect you to be so slow,” Stephen told him. “Tent, now,” he commanded.

  Caliban took a deep breath and ordered a few men out of the tent. Stephen surveyed the tent, seeing they had complete machines on hand for a pursuit along with every high-powered weapon in hard cases. Stephen knew there were just thirty men, but these men were the best and included werebeings at the government’s disposal.

  “What’s taking so long? This isn’t the first pursuit for escapees and traitors,” Stephen said, walking around the tent. He stopped at a table and checked on some paperwork that Caliban didn’t make. Clearly, it had been made by humans, as majority of the werebeings were uneducated.

  “We lost their scent--"

  “How can you lose someone’s scent?”

  “The weather’s just--"

  “This pursuit’s been going on for a month now, and still no solid leads since the last,” Stephen told him. “This doesn’t reflect well on your abilities, soldier.”

  Caliban said nothing, knowing full well this could jeopardize his chances of becoming a lieutenant. He took a silent breath in, standing straighter than ever as Stephen flipped a few pages on a report. Stephen frowned, reading something.

  “So, the trail disappeared once you got here? And we had no knowledge of it?” Stephen began.

  “We were going to send you data as soon as signals were better.”

  Stephen tsked, then he took a seat. “Corporal, are you delaying this mission on purpose?” he asked, his hands clasped over his chin.

  Caliban looked taken aback. “Of course not, sir.”

  “I sent you on missions before to retrieve or dispose. It took less than two weeks at most. Now, I understand that you were with A129 as a child. Perhaps you are letting some long-lost sentiment get in the way?”

  “Sir, no, sir,”

  “I can tell that you’re lying, you know,” Stephen said. “I’ve seen footage of you and her as children. You seemed pretty attached to her.”

  “That was a long time ago, sir. I didn’t know much about the real world.”

  “People can use her,” Stephen said. “Other countries can and will. Other people will torture her. I’d like a swift death for A129 and an even swifter one for X014.”

  Ryker nodded. X014 was his target and had been his target since. It was the only thing that kept him going through all those rough days and nights pursuing them, the thought of killing Ryker with his bare hands. It wouldn’t be a fair fight if he shot the life out of the werebear. Caliban had been taking shots to enhance his strengths further, a protoype from Alexia’s blood, one of the few concoctions saved from the now defunct sector.

  He needed less sleep daily and could easily run an average of fifty kilometers per hour in longer bursts than before. He healed faster, too. He noticed his bloodlust had gotten worse, though, but he didn’t care.

  It was all part of the change, a change that had to be documented by Dr. Wallace and his team. In fact, one military scientist tagged along with him to record his changes. It was a test run done in secret, and only a handful knew. They coined it as “steroids,” an apt nickname for the enhancer.

  There was no addiction to it so far, which pleased Caliban. He could function with superhuman strength at the rate the steroids went.

  “I trust I won’t need daily visits to keep your morale going?” Stephen said.

  “Of course not, sir. We’re heading for Kansas at dawn,” Caliban replied. They had two military grade helicopters at their disposal that could easily fit four military jeeps each, along with a full company in both helicopters.

  “We’re wasting government funds every day they aren’t caught,” Stephen told him. “I don’t think a deadline of tomorrow will be enough for you.”

  Caliban shook his head, but he said nothing. If he had bloodlust, Stephen was the king of it. He began to wonder if Stephen was on steroids, too. There was this determination in him that far exceeded the others’. Perhaps it was because of the pressure he was in to uphold the family’s legacy. There were also whispers he was gunning for a higher position, but he had to earn it, according to his father’s standards. Even the powerful could not escape judgement from the president.

  Stephen stared at Caliban. He was still a child in so many ways, malleable and unrefined, except for his military training. At least that part Caliban did well. He was wary of Caliban’s sentiments for A129, and any shift in emotion meant a collapse in the retrieval and execution ops. Caliban had to be tested and reprogrammed in the event that this next chance he’d been given would fail again. He didn’t like his patience tested; it reflected poorly on his father’s governance as well…

  “I expect some positive news. I expect both dead, under radar,” Stephen told him, standing up from his seat. He didn’t wait for X013 to respond, flipping open the tent and calling his own men to leave. He had other things to do, far more important; if only A129 hadn’t been introduced as public enemy number one. As soon as he got into the helicopter and out of earshot from the advance company, he quickly reached for his phone.

  “I want X013 monitored. Yes, I understand he’s been injecting himself with the A129’s prototype serum. What’s that you say? Uh-huh. Volatile… no, it’s more like unreliable. I’m sending out another company tomorrow to intercept their mission. He needs to be reschooled.”

  Reschooling was their term for a decent brainwashing, something that the majority of the werebeings needed every couple of years. It was to keep their behavior at bay and to incorporate their rules without question. Caliban was becoming unstable, and, despite being a prized soldier, those tiniest of glitches just wouldn’t do.

  He watched from the window of the copter as they began to ascend into the sky. Caliban was still standing in the same spot, staring at them. Stephen saw it in A129’s eyes; he had been working for so long that he knew when to recognize that far-off look in a werebeing’s eyes. They were soldiers first, but they were animals next. It was a harsh world, made even harsher by free-thinkers and dissidents who were unsatisfied with the way his father ran the country.

  Dr. Wallace proceeded to give him a few instructions, and Stephen ended the call in irritation. That was the problem with working so close to Sector 12. They got their soldiers from them, and, in return, they had to give constant reports and submit to Sector 12’s whims and caprices.

  There was almost nothing left of Sector 12, from its dedicated team of scientists to its painstaking experiments and reports -- all burned down and destroyed during that brazen escape. Dr. Wallace was on a reconstruction of it.

  He hadn’t spoken to his older brother, but he had heard that Sector 12 was going to be dissolved for good, replaced with Sector 13, a long defunct program, harsher and with even more questionable experiments. It had been shut down about fifty years ago for reasons unknown. He thought it was because of the body count that went beyond what they could handle.

  Stephen didn’t care which sector it was going to be named, as long as it didn’t meddle with his military affairs. He was a lieutenant first, and he only allowed this collaboration because his older brother ordered so. He was more than needed, he knew, and he would make use of this newfound dependence his brother had on him.

  *

  “They were happy,” Alexia told Ryker as they began to settle in for the night, ready to leave at first light the next day.
>
  “Yeah, I guess they were.”

  She eyed him. “It’s like you have some unresolved issues about happiness…”

  Ryker looked at the ceiling as she sat on bed beside him. “It’s more of me savoring the moment. I don’t get this every day. It almost…it almost reminded me of my parents.”

  He recalled what had transpired during dinner, that earnest conversation he’d had with the couple. He explained he had to leave, knowing that he and Juliet could burden them no longer. It was obvious they didn’t want them to leave.

  Ryker hated to admit he enjoyed being in a place like this. It was tranquil, and there were moments he would nearly forget that they were on the run. They were accepted here, even if the couple knew nothing about them.

  Before they’d gone back to their bedroom, John had handed Ryker a backpack carefully filled with a change of clothes for them both, some toiletries, and canned and prepacked food. John had told him it wasn’t much, but it was at that moment that Ryker wanted to break down and tell them the whole story, just to unburden himself and make up for those lies they had told.

  “I don’t want to wake up later just to leave them. Just to leave this,” Alexia said in a soft voice.

  “You got used to a domesticated life so quickly?” Ryker found himself asking. He knew he wanted it, too, strangely enough. All they needed was to be surrounded by the right environment, the right people, and all would be well. But life didn’t work that way for him, and life wouldn’t work that way for a recent runaway like Alexia.

  Earlier that day, he had thought about staying. He wanted a stable life, one that had full meals, one with a bed, a stable life surrounded by warm people. The last four days had been blissful, even if he didn’t show it. Alexia was having the time of her life, though. He felt a bit guilty for taking this source of happiness away from her, but Mr. Jensen was more than a lesson learned for the both of them.

  “We shouldn’t get used to happiness, should we?” Alexia found herself saying. Deep inside her thoughts, she wanted it to last; she wanted to be loved by the couple, no matter how brief her stay. She wanted to be missed, wanted to be wanted, wanted to be needed. Had she been so deprived of everything in Sector 12 that even mere household chores were done lovingly?

  Lydia had that sad look in her eyes during dinner, one she couldn’t shake off from her mind. Perhaps, Lydia felt the same way, some misconstrued form of attachment, a product of individual loneliness. She wondered if Ryker genuinely felt a semblance of care for them. Why was she even questioning this? Of course, he did. There was some innate kindness in him that he tried to mask. Somehow, she could see through him.

  Alexia hadn’t been able to read his thoughts lately; the one and only time had been during that experiment that had nearly gone awry, that experiment where he didn’t want to shift. How could she do that again? She hadn’t entered any other werebeing’s mind, and she began to wonder if her skills were just a fluke, that product of desperation to prove herself. Prove herself to whom? Dr. Delaney? Dr. Wallace? To the werebeing in front of her?

  “I guess not,” he replied lamely.

  “Have you ever truly loved someone? Someone that isn’t your mother or father?” Alexia asked.

  Ryker frowned. No one had bothered to ask him that before, and here she came, nonchalantly questioning about the loves of his life. He shifted uncomfortably in bed, and he decided to sit up beside her, their backs resting against the wooden headboard.

  “No. Never,” he said. He felt compelled to ask her the same thing. Whatever for? To know if someone was in love with her or something? It could be an impending threat… “You?” He wanted to kick himself for asking. Sure, he had been curious about her past life, but he had never been this curious.

  “I wouldn’t know. I was born there. I lived in that sector my whole life… Maybe not.” She wondered how it felt to love someone unconditionally, to love someone while completely understanding their flaws. Humans were bound to feel at some point, right? Would Ryker feel something, too? With his werebear form resurfacing?

  She remembered Caliban, though, Caliban and his steely attitude, Caliban and his concern for her. She didn’t feel that kind of love that Dr. Delaney once described to her, when she’d asked Edith if Edith had any children of her own. Alexia couldn’t perceive that Caliban loved her the way people who got married must’ve loved each other.

  “I wonder if I’m worthy of love,” Alexia said without addressing him in particular. It was as if she wanted to answer it herself.

  ‘What made her think she wasn’t,’ Ryker thought. His mother had always told him anyone was capable of being loved. He was an example, he thought in hindsight. They loved him when they knew nothing about him; they loved him even if he seemed distant at first. He was how old when they’d found him? Five? Six? Yet, they gave him their name. Ryker Locklear. It was a name he’d not used in a while, ashamed of what he had become…

  “You are,” he assured her, pushing his insecurities away. He had the privilege of being loved by people, and she hadn’t. It was only fair to focus on her this time and not on his feelings.

  “I guess you’re just saying that so I’ll sleep.”

  “Well, you have to,” Ryker said. “We’re leaving early.”

  She sighed and slid down on the pillow, still looking at him as if he had other secrets he wanted to share with her.

  “I find it impossible that you’ve never loved anyone aside from your parents,” she said, giving a small yawn.

  “Maybe I will, someday…” he said in a far-away voice, looking at her face. He could see her eyes clearly, despite the dimmed lights. Her eyes looked like they had a galaxy inside them. It was a pretty sight, a welcoming one, as the past few days had been filled with grey skies and snow. He thought that if he died, the last thing he’d want to see would be her eyes…

  She closed her eyes, drifting into a slumber. He found himself smiling, still looking at her. His hand began to reach out to touch her face. Then he stopped and turned to face the ceiling. What in the hell was he thinking? All this talk got him confused. All this talk about feelings that weren’t really there. He was getting too soft, wasn’t he? Survival came first. Love was for happy moments; it wasn’t for running away from the government that wanted them dead, it wasn’t for when they scrounged for food whenever they could and it wasn’t for when they looked for warmth.

  The thought of falling in love with her bothered him-until he finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  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 Jam
esons 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.”