Eden, p.19
Eden, page 19
“Yeah,” he said. “I think you’re right.”
“This doesn’t happen,” Selina said. “A coyote and a wolf hunting people, together. It doesn’t happen.”
“Forget about what these bastards should and shouldn’t be doing,” her dad said. “Everyone stay close. If they come at us, we can fend them off.”
“What if there’s a whole pack?” Cove asked.
Jenn didn’t think there was. The creature seemed to be on its own, stalking them just like the coyote or whatever it was following from back the way they’d come.
“It’s big for a wolf,” Selina said.
“Great,” Gee said. “Just what I needed to hear. Not just a wolf, a giant wolf.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jenn said. “We run.” And she ran. The others ran with her, her father by her side, Gee edging ahead, and she felt that they were closing around her, protecting her from the landscape that had done them so much harm. Though she welcomed their closeness, they could not insulate her from the terrible truth.
They followed the telegraph poles, and once they were on the old road its route became more obvious. The tarmac was long since broken up and swallowed down, but the scattered trees were younger than those elsewhere, the going easier.
She fell into a comfortable rhythm, and where the poles remained standing she started counting, an old trick she’d learned early in her endurance running career.
Just to the next pole… just to the next pole…
It ticked away the minutes and the miles, and by the time there were no more poles—fallen away to the weather, perhaps; taken down by rot and rain and high winds—she almost failed to notice that they had vanished. Her breath came in, went out, adding to the rhythm and changing with every third footfall. More tricks, more ways to pass the time and measure the distance, and then Aaron was running with her, his own breathing falling in to match her own, and she didn’t dare glance to the left in case he vanished. She heard the others around her—the impacts of their feet on the soft ground, their exhalations and grunts as they tracked across the uneven landscape—and she knew that they were real. But while she ran and felt Aaron by her side, his presence was more real than anything. There was a heavy weight in her heart, and she knew it was the wretchedness of violent, dreadful loss. She would do anything to keep it at bay for another hour, minute, or even a few seconds.
Though each footfall was different, she never set a foot wrong, although she had no awareness of paying attention to the ground around her. She flowed across the land, carried by the process of running. And still Aaron moved with her, a barely glimpsed shadow by her side that was already becoming memory.
Sometimes she sobbed, but no one stopped, and no one spoke to her. They knew where she was and what she was doing. They were protecting her by not stopping—
The wolf, the coyote, if we can outrun them—
—and she felt the closeness of her group, closer than they’d ever run together before. They were a solid unit, made more solid by the loss of one. Sometimes she even closed her eyes as she ran. Daring Eden to trip her. Tempting fate—
If we can wear them out, leave them behind—
Aaron was calling her. She continued running, feeling each impact up through her legs and body, relishing contact with the land, even though this land could never be their own.
Jenn.
She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see that he wasn’t really there.
“Jenn!”
Slowing, she looked at last. Her father was beside her, sweating, keeping pace.
“They’re getting closer.”
“We can outrun them.”
“No, they’re keeping with us.”
“How far have we come?”
“Eight miles, maybe ten. And they’re keeping pace.”
Eight or ten miles. She didn’t feel like she’d been running for more than a few minutes. It surprised her, but only at a distance. She wasn’t sure she could feel anything other than a terrible, consuming numbness.
She glanced back. The coyote was out of sight behind them, but the wolf was visible down the slope to their left. It followed the edge of the forest until the trees ended, then she saw it turn and come directly for them.
“Guys,” Cove said, seeing it too.
“Keep running,” Selina said.
“It’s faster than us,” Cove said.
“If it comes in close we’ll stop and go at it with the sticks.”
“Sticks!” Lucy said, echoing Jenn’s fear at how ineffective their weapons were. The wolf was strong, fast, with claws and teeth that could rip and tear. They had soft, exposed flesh and a few unsharpened bits of wood. Maybe they could scare it away with harsh words.
It might still have Aaron’s blood and flesh around its snout and on its body, she reflected. That made them alike.
The overgrown road they still followed edged upward, the incline slight but becoming sapping after a mile or so. Jenn realised how tired she had become, and knew the others were too. They’d already been in calorie deficit before losing most of their kit and rations. Coming out of her trancelike state, realising how far they’d run, allowed in the exhaustion.
To their left the hillside dropped away towards the plains beyond, the slope uneven and scattered with boulders of all sizes, clumps of trees and folds that might hide streams leading towards clefts or canyons further down. It was perfect terrain to remain unseen, and the longer Jenn went without seeing the wolf, the more unsettled she became.
They crested a rise where the elements had scored away all evidence of the roadway. A breeze breathed in from the east, sending calming waves through long grass and setting trees swaying. Every movement caught her eye.
“There’s the dam,” her father said, and half a mile ahead she saw a break in the land and two stone towers. They sprouted from the head of a heavy structure, an artificial dam fording the narrow valley with a road across the top. It was not a traditional concrete dam—its front face was sloping, made from thousands of large, heavy rocks piled against the core like one face of a pyramid.
“I can’t make out if it’s whole,” Selina said. The angle was all wrong, and it was difficult to see any damage the dam might have sustained since Eden was established.
“I don’t like the look of that,” Cove said. “Once on there, there’s nowhere to go.”
“It’s that or go down into the valley,” her dad said.
“Or we just head downhill now,” Gee said, nodding to their left.
“Towards the wolf?” Jenn asked.
“Why not?” Gee asked, shrugging. “It comes at us, or we go at it, either way—”
The attack came from above. Jenn sensed the movement and heard a low growl as the shape dropped from a tree’s low branches, landing ten feet away and leaping at them.
Cove swung his stick and connected with the animal, knocking it to the side. It landed hard, a thrashing, writhing, hissing thing.
“Lynx!” Selina said.
“Here, puss puss,” Cove said. He stepped forward and prodded with the stick, and the animal batted it aside with one paw. It darted to the left faster than Cove could turn and went for his legs.
Her father thrust forward with his make-do spear, catching the lynx across the hind quarters. It yowled, spinning around and biting at the stick, and he jabbed it again.
“Form in!” Selina said, waving at them to come in close. They formed a loose circle, back to back, sticks aiming outwards. The lynx eased away and padded left and right, never taking its eyes off them.
Jenn thought it was beautiful. Grey-brown, speckled, its maned face resembled that of a domestic cat, though larger and wilder. The distinctive tufts on its ears were dark as night. There was blood dotted around its mouth. Its eyes were so intelligent, and as it paced, looking for a way past their defences, she was certain it was glancing elsewhere, as if its mind was working beyond this immediate confrontation.
She could smell it, a musky, warm scent. She thought the thing that had attacked her and Gee down in the canyon had been larger, probably the coyote creeping behind them, or even the wolf stalking up the hillside. That didn’t mean the lynx wouldn’t be just as dangerous if they allowed it close.
Jenn looked around, and back the way they’d come the coyote was now standing out in the open. It was maybe two hundred metres away, motionless, staring at the small group with disconcerting calm. As she watched, it jumped on the spot, rearing up on its hind legs and looking downhill.
It’s looking for the wolf, she thought. What the fuck is that all about?
“We need to go, now!” she said. The others had also seen the coyote.
“Wolf,” Selina said. “Downhill, but coming closer. Using natural cover.”
“Across the dam,” her father said.
“We get on there and we’re trapped!” Cove said.
“We only have to defend in two directions, and we’ll see them coming. If that bastard had dropped onto your head instead of next to you…” He didn’t have to elaborate. The lynx had backed off a little and was licking blood from the knife wound on its rump. As it licked, it kept its eyes on them. Jenn couldn’t help feeling it was sizing them up.
They skirted around the lynx and started towards the dam, following the route of the old road. Cove and Selina hung at the back, watching their footing but keeping an eye on the big cat behind them. It held back, but then started keeping pace with them thirty metres behind. It stopped and started, head cocked whenever it paused, as if listening for unheard commands. Jenn saw it sniffing at the air, too. Perhaps it was smelling its mates.
It was only as they approached the dam that they saw the damage halfway across.
“Hold here,” Cove said.
“That wolf’s closer,” Selina said. “And it’s a big one. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve seen one that size before.”
“That’s what she said,” Gee muttered, and Jenn coughed a laugh. She surprised herself by shedding a tear at the same time.
I’m fucking losing it, she thought, and thinking it made her determined not to. Aaron wouldn’t want that.
“Uphill looks tough,” her father said. “We could try it, but it’s steep and we’ll be slow, and the trees are thicker up there.”
“And no way of telling how or even if we can get around the reservoir,” Lucy said.
“Downhill, then,” Cove said.
“Towards the wolf?” Jenn asked.
“Have you seen that?” Cove pointed along the top of the dam with his stick. The earth and rock structure was straight, not curved like a larger concrete dam, and just past the first stone tower it dropped out of sight, its surface washed away. From this angle there was no telling how extreme the damage was. Decades of leaf fall had blown along the road and settled without traffic to clear it away, and grasses, shrubs and even a few trees had taken root.
“Have you seen that?” Jenn said, pointing down at the wolf. She’d seen wolves before, but always at a distance, little more than shapes moving on a far-off hillside. The creature closing on them was magnificent and terrifying. A metre tall at the shoulder and over two metres long, head bigger than a person’s, the dark fur along its neck and back faded to speckled auburn and grey further down its body and legs. It had one pure white flash above its left eye, which gave it an almost quizzical look.
“Heads up!” Selina shouted. Behind them, the coyote was jogging close, eyes wide and focussed on them. The red tinge around its mouth might have been natural colouring, or blood. The lynx scampered aside before the bigger animal, slinking between rocks and trees above them, coming closer. It moved in and out of view, and every moment it was out of sight Jenn expected it to leap at them from behind a rock, down from a tree, or out of a fold in the land.
The coyote slowed, then kept pace just a few metres away. It was sleek, fit, well fed. Its ears were perked up. Its gaze flickered between them and the wolf approaching from downhill.
The wolf was easily twice the size of the coyote. It sat down ten metres from the group. Jenn could smell it, like damp dog. The fur across its face and down one side of its neck was dark with blood, which made the white flash stand out even more.
“We’re being herded,” Lucy said.
“No way,” Cove said.
The coyote came closer. The wolf stood as they moved a little downhill, and kept pace with them. They could not take on either beast with the meagre weapons they had, not even as a group. The creatures seemed confident, casual, almost laid-back in their approach.
Moving onto the dam, the reservoir level gave some indication as to how severe the damage might be. It was at least ten metres lower than the dam wall. Around the shoreline lush low growth showed where the silty bed had been exposed, allowing seedlings to take root in the fertile soil and splash an array of bright green grasses and colourful blooms, a distinct border between water and land. There were only saplings growing in these areas, which suggested that the breach had happened quite recently.
With three of them facing across the dam, and Jenn, Gee and Cove facing back the way they’d come, they moved quickly towards the area of subsidence.
26
The account @PottyBonkkers has been deleted.
The lynx stalked them along the low wall between road and reservoir. The coyote followed along the middle of the road. The big wolf hung back, a few metres behind the smaller canine. Like a general conducting its troops, Jenn thought, but that was not quite right. It was a killer sending its lesser companions to the slaughter first. Weaken the enemy, wear them down. Then lope in for the kill.
The coyote’s movements became more defined, less casual. Its ears pricked up, its haunches lowered, and it tensed, coiled. It feinted left, then charged.
Cove stepped towards the attack, jabbing with his stick. Jenn swung her own and caught the animal across the head, dancing back as it turned on her and lashed out with one clawed paw. Gee darted in from the other side and drove his stick into its neck one-handed, leaning his whole weight behind the blow. But it was not sharp, and the coyote simply dropped onto its side and rolled right over, finding its feet again in moments and coming at Jenn.
She stood her ground and shouted, startling the coyote enough to freeze it for a second. That was all Cove needed. He swung his stick high over his head and brought it down on the creature’s head.
It yelped and fell, scrabbling with all four legs to shove itself backwards, snapping at the weapon, grabbing its end and then twisting. Cove grunted as the stick was hauled back, and he took one step with it, holding on.
“Cove!” Jenn shouted. She could smell the coyote, wild and alert, a cloying angry stench.
Cove let go and stepped back, just as the coyote dropped the stick and came at him again. Gee prodded it in the mouth and it withdrew.
The lynx was crouched on the wall ready to leap, and Jenn ran at it, swinging her stick and screaming again. It froze, eyes darting left and right, then leapt nimbly back off the wall, out of her reach and down onto the exposed ground behind it.
“Shit!” Hidden from view, the cat was now more dangerous than ever.
“Move it!” her dad said. It was a good fifty metres to where the damage in the dam’s surface began, and they covered it at a sprint, Cove and Jenn moving backwards so they could keep tabs on their attackers.
The wolf still hung back, looking from the coyote to where the lynx had been, and back again. Its obvious intelligence chilled Jenn. It’s sizing up the situation, assessing what’s happened and what will come next.
The coyote was rubbing at its ear and jaw with one paw. It shook its head and a fine spray of blood misted the air around it.
“Fuck!” Gee said. Jenn glanced back and down at the broken dam. Her chill grew cooler, crawling up her spine and into her bones, into her soul. They pushed us this way, she thought. They’ve been cleverer than us all along.
They were trapped.
Something had cracked the dam in half. It could only have been an earthquake. The crest had slumped, and the compacted rocks and gravel that comprised the interior layers of the structure had been washed away by the resulting flood. The deluge must have been massive, and as thousands of gallons of water roared through the rent every second, it carried away more and more. The land beyond the dam’s toe was scattered with countless rocks and scored with a hundred waterways. Water still flowed from the reservoir in noisy streams over and through the tumbled rocks, ranging from the size of her fist to the bulk of a refrigerator.
The slope was not steep, but it was so treacherous that they’d never choose to descend somewhere like that. It was broken bones waiting to happen.
“We’ve got no choice,” Selina said, voicing what they were all thinking.
“We can stay and fight them,” Cove said.
“No,” Jenn’s father said. “Look.”
The coyote was advancing again, and the wolf was following in its wake. As soon as the coyote jumped, the wolf would come at them as well.
Jenn heard a hiss from her left. The lynx was slinking around from the reservoir side, padding over the uneven rock pile with a calm confidence. We’ll stumble and slip down the slope, but they’re built for this.
“Both options are shit,” she said. She didn’t even wait for a reply. Stick held across her stomach—partly for balance, partly ready to strike out at anything that came at her—she left the level surface of the dam’s crest and started down the disrupted slope of rock and shale, mud and flowing water.
“You and me at the back,” she heard her father say to Cove. Gee came with her, close behind her left shoulder. Selina and Lucy were to her right, Lucy glancing back and forth between the dangerous ground beneath her feet and the stalking lynx. It was matching their descent just a few metres away, footfalls confident and silent, its gaze glued on them.
“It’ll tense before it leaps,” Selina said. “Look for its head dipping down, ears coming up.”
“Then I’ll stick it down the fucking throat,” Lucy muttered.
“Go,” Cove said, and Jenn glanced back. Her father was already moving quickly down the slope, and behind him Cove was waving at them all. “Go!”
