Page 6 of Mated By the Pack
Clyde looms over me again. My vision is blurry from the hit. Clyde casually removes a silver case from his pocket and prepares a syringe like I’m one of his patients.
“Sorry, Calla,” he says, jamming the needle into my neck. “Only one person gets to graduate on Monday, and it’s not going to be you.”
I try to scream, just like before, but the darkness closes in.
I wake up again and it seems like I’ve been out for a while. I blink my eyes and try to get them to focus as I’m jostled around. I see light overhead, but I also see metal bars. That simmers some panic in my stomach, and I force myself to sit up. My headthrobs so hard it’s difficult to open my eyes, but I see enough to know I’m not alone.
“The drugs make your head feel like it’s going to explode,” a woman’s voice whispers. “Takes a few minutes for that to pass after you wake up.”
I don’t respond. My eyeballs ache like my brain is trying to shoot out through the sockets. There’s so much pressure it makes my eyes water. I’ve coached patients through this, but I never realized how bad it actually is. This is apowerfulsedative. Similar to what we use for surgery, based on how I feel right now.
But slowly it begins to pass. I become aware of my surroundings. When I finally force my eyes open again, I see blurry images. The woman who spoke to me. Metal bars. We’re in some sort of cage, by the looks of it. A snarl draws my attention, and I see the hybrid with emerald eyes walking beside us. The cage is attached to a cart that is being pulled by large beasts of burden—like the oxen I’ve seen in Haven North, but these are grotesque and disfigured with their spinal columns protruding from their backs.
“Halt,” the hybrid growls, and I fall over as the cart comes to a stop.
I push myself up and look around. My heart sinks when I see the wall that surrounds Haven North, because we’re on the wrong side of it. We’re in the wilds and exposed.
We’re in…The Tangle.
“What’s wrong?” It’s Carl’s voice. He’s the one driving the cart. Two men who are dressed in similar leather attire sit next to him. “Trouble?”
The hybrid closes his eyes and raises his head like a scent has caught his attention. There’s a stillness to him, like he’s waiting for something. Something that only he can smell. All I smell is sourness that seems to be coming from the disfigured oxen pulling the cart.
I glance at the other women in the cage. The one who spoke to me is motionless and looks scared, but she has determination in her eyes. She’s about my age. There’s a girl who looks to be around eighteen or nineteen huddled near the back corner of the cage and she’s crying. Two others are still sleeping, and I can’t make out their faces.
“It’s nothing,” the hybrid says. “I thought I smelled a wolf, but the scent is getting fainter, so it’s not headed our way.”
“You’re sure this trail is safe?” Carl asks. “I don’t usually take this route to The Outpost, but you said it was faster.”
“I can handle anything in this part of The Tangle,” the hybrid says confidently.
Carl turns away, yells a command, and snaps the reins against the oxen. The cart begins to move again. The woman who spoke to me moves closer and whispers, but the way the hybrid’s ear twitches makes me think he can hear it.
“I’m Nara. That’s Tansy over there.” Nara motions to the crying girl at the back of the cage, then to the two on the floor. “Not sure about them. They haven’t woken up yet.”
“Calla,” I whisper back, glancing between Nara and the hybrid for a moment before a sense of dread sinks in.
The Tangle is an untamed, terrifying place. Home to carnivorous plants, trees that don’t always stay rooted in one spot, and somuch more. Wild animals. Beasts that were mutated during the heat storms that raged for years after the sun erupted. And hybrids, like the one walking beside us.
In school, we learned that hybrids emerged during heat storms. They were predators, and humans quickly became their prey. But they were described as little more than beasts, like the ones that are mutated, not intelligent beings capable of speaking.
“Carl is the leader,” Nara whispers, gesturing to the man driving the cart. “The two men next to him are Jed and Jeb. They’re brothers.”
“And him?” I tilt my head toward the hybrid.
“I’ve been calling him Lion-O after a character from a book my dad used to read me.” She shrugs.
“It’s Frank,” the hybrid growls without looking at us. “My name is Frank.”
Frank doesn’t wait for us to acknowledge what he said. He grits his teeth, lets out a guttural sound, and moves closer to the front of the cart. The oxen aren’t running, but their pace is too fast for a normal person to keep up on foot. That doesn’t seem to be an issue for Frank.
But I’ve got bigger problems than a hybrid. We all do. We’ve been kidnapped, drugged, and now we’re in The Tangle. There’s no scenario where this ends well for us. A twinge twists my stomach, and I feel a mixture of emotions I haven’t felt in a really long time. I’m definitely overdue for another cycle of supplements.
But even the strongest supplement cycle wouldn’t be able to stifle the panic I’m feeling right now. I close my eyes, gather what composure I can muster, and turn to Nara.
“What do we know about them?” I ask, gesturing to the front of the cart.
“They’re slavers based on what I overheard when I woke up,” Nara answers.
