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More from Sinrith
We stand in the pouring rain with rifles as the sun rises behind a veil of clouds granite gray and white with flashing lightning. Rex the dingo has his hat pulled low, rivulets of water pouring from the brim. Brett the bear stands stolid with his Bushmaster AR, a frown on his homely face and his eyes distant.
I'm kneeling in the mud, staring at tracks fast vanishing. "She went this way," I said. I'm soaked and sick at heart. I can't believe the virus had turned her Feral, yet the dead she's left behind has left me no other avenue except the truth.
Years ago, when World War 3 broke out and all 7 billion of us were changed into animalistic versions of ourselves by the release of a bioweapon, some saw it as a sign that humanity had regressed to its true form. It was irony in the eyes of the logical, biblical in the eyes of the religious, and fate in the eyes of the fatalists...yet for some of the afflicted the secondary change carried with it a tertiary condition.
In certain circumstances they morphed into the fullness of their nature, became monsters, were-creatures if you will.
My girlfriend was one of those people. A Feral. She'd killed six in the nearby town of Queenswrought, torn them apart and then feasted.
As sherriff, it was my responsibility to put her down. Queenswrought was a small town though, and I had only two deputies. There had been volunteers for a possee but the matter was too personal and tempers were explosive.
"Why west, I wonder," Brett rumbled. "There's nothing but jungle and then the gulf. You'd think she'd try to lose herself in civilization."
"I don't know what the fuck she's thinking," I countered bitterly. "If I'd known maybe none of this would have happened."
"Don't blame yourself, mate," Rex said gently, putting a paw on my shoulder and flashing a sad smile. "You didn't kill those people. You couldn't have known."
I looked down, gripped the nine on my hip so tight it hurt. "Maybe that's true, but I was the closest to her. I should have seen the signs. I should have-"
"Guys, over here!" Brett called. He was holding a scrap of cloth, scarlet and sodden. I recognized it. It had been torn from her favorite jacket.
"That's her's, for sure," I said, taking it from him. I held it to my nose. It reeked of her. It was the scent that used to drive me wild, and now it filled me with sadness and grief. She was the love of my life, everything I had ever wanted, and now I had to hunt her down and kill her for what she had done. Life is cruel in so many other ways than one, isn't it? If offers you heaven so you know just how hell can feel.
I breathed it in more deeply, the rain revealing more from with the tattered scrap. "She's afraid. Angry too. She must have thought her framing of Harold would have thrown us off her trail."
Rex scowled. "Let's not go down that road again. My brother's no murderer. He was home with me all night."
I held up a paw. "I believe you. Even if I don't want to."
Rex looked away and Brett cleared his throat. "Well...let's keep going, this rain isn't going to let up and we could lose the trail."
I glanced back at the police jeep, trotted over to it and pulled a shotgun out. "We might need this," I said without emotion. "She might be in her other form."
"Good thinking, mate,"
Brett said nothing, just stared into the soaked shadows of the forest and nodded grimly.
And so the hunt began.
I'm kneeling in the mud, staring at tracks fast vanishing. "She went this way," I said. I'm soaked and sick at heart. I can't believe the virus had turned her Feral, yet the dead she's left behind has left me no other avenue except the truth.
Years ago, when World War 3 broke out and all 7 billion of us were changed into animalistic versions of ourselves by the release of a bioweapon, some saw it as a sign that humanity had regressed to its true form. It was irony in the eyes of the logical, biblical in the eyes of the religious, and fate in the eyes of the fatalists...yet for some of the afflicted the secondary change carried with it a tertiary condition.
In certain circumstances they morphed into the fullness of their nature, became monsters, were-creatures if you will.
My girlfriend was one of those people. A Feral. She'd killed six in the nearby town of Queenswrought, torn them apart and then feasted.
As sherriff, it was my responsibility to put her down. Queenswrought was a small town though, and I had only two deputies. There had been volunteers for a possee but the matter was too personal and tempers were explosive.
"Why west, I wonder," Brett rumbled. "There's nothing but jungle and then the gulf. You'd think she'd try to lose herself in civilization."
"I don't know what the fuck she's thinking," I countered bitterly. "If I'd known maybe none of this would have happened."
"Don't blame yourself, mate," Rex said gently, putting a paw on my shoulder and flashing a sad smile. "You didn't kill those people. You couldn't have known."
I looked down, gripped the nine on my hip so tight it hurt. "Maybe that's true, but I was the closest to her. I should have seen the signs. I should have-"
"Guys, over here!" Brett called. He was holding a scrap of cloth, scarlet and sodden. I recognized it. It had been torn from her favorite jacket.
"That's her's, for sure," I said, taking it from him. I held it to my nose. It reeked of her. It was the scent that used to drive me wild, and now it filled me with sadness and grief. She was the love of my life, everything I had ever wanted, and now I had to hunt her down and kill her for what she had done. Life is cruel in so many other ways than one, isn't it? If offers you heaven so you know just how hell can feel.
I breathed it in more deeply, the rain revealing more from with the tattered scrap. "She's afraid. Angry too. She must have thought her framing of Harold would have thrown us off her trail."
Rex scowled. "Let's not go down that road again. My brother's no murderer. He was home with me all night."
I held up a paw. "I believe you. Even if I don't want to."
Rex looked away and Brett cleared his throat. "Well...let's keep going, this rain isn't going to let up and we could lose the trail."
I glanced back at the police jeep, trotted over to it and pulled a shotgun out. "We might need this," I said without emotion. "She might be in her other form."
"Good thinking, mate,"
Brett said nothing, just stared into the soaked shadows of the forest and nodded grimly.
And so the hunt began.
Category Story / All
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File Size 3.6 kB
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