Authors: R. K. Sidler
—
The wolf remained at a distance listening to the humans speak. Once they were gone, he returned to feed on some of what they had left on the ground. He ate both of the livers and the hearts, leaving most of the rest. He was not sure why the humans left without taking them as they were considered to be the ‘choicest' parts. He walked back to the lion, picked it up, and went on his way.
He returned to the crags, which were his home. Upon entering, he dropped his catch on the ground and walked toward his den. He saw the golden stares among the rocks as the faces of his pack looked on. After he passed them, they slowly made their way to the food he brought. He did not care. He provided for the pack, as was the custom. He was the largest and most successful hunter. Unlike the rest, he was not a pack animal at heart. He viewed them as weak because they were unable to function alone as he did. They were opportunists who sought to find the easiest prey. Even long dead things appealed to their hunger. He did not hunt out of hunger; he hunted for the challenge. The only creatures he stalked were predators, like himself.
He bedded down for the remainder of the day, in the protection of his den, knowing he would not be bothered, and thought about the human who helped him out of the pit. He was the first living thing the wolf had ever encountered that showed no fear of him. Even his own kind feared him.
He followed him after the human had moved on and thought him gone. He knew other humans were around, as well as some other predators. He smelled them all. As he flanked him in the cover of the trees, he saw the lions moving in. This was when he went on the attack. He killed the first lion with relative ease as he caught it unaware. The second lion was indecisive when it found itself between the human and the new threat from the wolf. Before it could turn to run away, the wolf struck it several times with its sharp claws inflicting serious wounds. The cat knew then he had to stand and fight. The great wolf had killed many cats before and took pleasure in doing so.
Before he went on the attack, the human threw something, which hurt the cat. When the lion had its attention diverted, he seized his opportunity. When it was over, the human walked to the lion, spoke to him in the same tone as he did before, and removed his weapon from the dead cat.
He sensed in this man creature a kindred spirit. He would find him again as he knew his scent. It was something to consider for another time. The sounds of the other wolves eating faded as he drifted off to sleep.
NINE
It was well into the evening by the time they entered the valley. It was a careful walk down a well-worn trail to reach the valley’s floor. Bishop could see fires burning both inside and outside of the dwellings. It looked to be a permanent settlement. When he looked into the night sky, he noticed that it was different here. It was the first time he had seen the shimmer of stars since the event. It was one more thing he had taken for granted in the course of his life.
He was shown to a vacant structure and encouraged to remain there. He looked inside and saw a bed with a mattress along with a few other items indicating it was a residence of sorts. He decided to sleep outside instead. He was not sure how far these people could be trusted, and he did not like the idea of having walls around him until he knew.
He saw people moving about but no one came near to him. Once he made himself comfortable, he drifted off into a half sleep. It was an ability he learned in his early military days. It was made easier now because he never required much sleep.
Before the sun crested the peaks above, he was awake. He refreshed and washed himself in the freshwater stream below the dwellings, and waited on whoever it was that was going to pay him a visit. He saw small birds flitting about in the underbrush; a small herd of cattle was feeding in the distance, and wild flowers were in bloom everywhere. It was as beautiful a setting as he had ever witnessed. It looked untouched by the harsh outside world. The valley exhibited life while the area above represented death.
Two men approached him from the same trail they had traveled the day before. “Hello. My name’s Weston and this is Sasha,” he said while offering his hand. He was older than Bishop, had a full red beard, graying in places, and looked to be in relatively good shape.
“I’m Bishop,” he said shaking the hands of both men.
“Where did you come from? We don’t see as many strangers as we once did,” Weston asked.
“North, far north.”
Weston just raised his eyes realizing the man was cautious and not likely to offer too much information.
“An area like this?” Weston asked referring to the valley.
“No, in the mountains.”
They looked at one another, each taking a measure of the man before them.
“The reason I asked if it was an area like this,” Weston went on thinking he would try to break the ice, “is because there is no radiation here. That is why you see life thriving. Our resident professor says it is due to an electromagnetic field. Whatever it is, it allows us to live as we do. Not too many things survive for long out there,” he said indicating the land above the valley.
“No, I don’t figure they would. Seems a bit hard and to the point; kill or be killed.”
Weston smiled. He liked this man. “I heard you did some killing yourself.”
“Yeah, your men took the bounty,” he said without malice.
“They told me you let the rock wolf out of their trap.”
“Rock Wolf; I didn’t know what it was called… Big thing.”
“And he is the biggest. I’ve never heard of anything ever escaping him alive, until you. He hunts alone, that is why we knew it was him,” Weston said. “How is it he not only didn’t attack you, but apparently helped you kill the lions?”
“I don’t know; maybe because I helped him out.”
Weston smiled at the reply, “I don’t think you will see much in the way of gratitude out there. It’s a hard life, like you said.”
Bishop just nodded.
“Okay. If you’re not in the mood to talk, that’s fine. We are friendly here toward those who are also friendly. We eat our afternoon meal as a community. You are welcome to come. I’ll send somebody for you. If you would like to look around, feel free to do so.”
“Thank you,” Bishop said in reply.
“Would you like someone to take a look at your leg,” Weston said noticing the tear marks and dried blood stains on his pant leg.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Up to you. Keep in mind that infection kills as quickly as anything out here.”
“I’ll do that.”
―
He decided against taking his spear as he saw no reason for it. He walked through the valley noticing life he thought only existed in his memories. There were all types of livestock, rabbits, squirrels, and even a beaver pond. Fish jumped out of the deeper pools of water, and children were playing the games children play. Nobody said a word to him as he walked along, but they were not unfriendly either, just cautious.
He walked in among hardwood trees with their overflowing canopies of limbs and leaves. The sky was clear here. The ground was soft and full of life indicating its richness.
It was a little piece of paradise.
When he was close enough to a few of the residents, he noticed the effects of the environment. They must have had to spend some time out of the valley, and that being the case, have suffered from exposure; some more than others. They appeared to be of mixed nationality though he could not be sure of which.
He spent the better part of the morning simply enjoying the scenery. It was the most pleasant experience he had since leaving the mountain. When he returned to the building he was first taken to, a young boy was waiting for him.
―
“Are you the concierge,” Bishop asked the young man.
He tilted his head in curiosity not understanding the phrase before he spoke, “I’m to bring you to dinner.”
“Then lead on maestro,” Bishop said teasing the young man.
They walked along the side of the valley wall. As they drew closer to their destination, Bishop could smell meat roasting. When they rounded a rocky outcropping, Bishop saw two large wooden pavilions. A large number of people were milling about around them. The boy must have figured they were close enough that this stranger would know where to go next, so he rushed off to join a group of young men playing not too far away.
There were several large adobe-like ovens and two fire pits between the structures. Two animals could be seen turning on a spit, and smoke was rising from the ovens. Picnic benches were lined in rows beneath the covered roofs. Bishop saw someone waving at him and noticed that it was Weston. He walked over and accepted the seat that was offered.
“Quite a place you have here,” Bishop said.
“Better than many alternatives,” Weston replied.
“What’s for lunch?" Bishop asked inclining his head toward the fires.
“Roast lion,” Weston said with a smile, “By some coincidence, the men brought two of them in just yesterday.”
“Good. Nothing I hate more than stale lion,” Bishop said returning the smile.
As the meal was served they made small talk. Bishop had never had lion before, and thought it was quite good. As they were eating Bishop said, “One of your men said Mochtp when we met. What does that mean?”
“Monster,” Weston replied. “He was referring to the Raveners. At least that is the name we’ve given them.”
“Why did he call it by that other name?”
“It’s Russian. Sasha here was an engineer on a Russian submarine. When we first came here, some of us were from an American submarine, some from a Russian sub, and the rest we picked up along the way. A few others found us over time. Everybody speaks some English, but we’ve become a mix of three languages. Sometimes, a word in another language just carries more meaning and we may revert to using it, as the man you spoke of did.”
“What exactly are the Raveners? I’ve seen them twice before. They look mostly human, but they don’t act it.”
“We think they were people who went mad, or at the least, survived physically when they probably should have died. But be assured, they are not human any longer. They will walk right by you, but if there is blood on you, you'd better be quicker than they are, because they will attack without a second thought. They can smell blood from great distances. They can run without tiring, their strength is more than that of an average man, despite their fragile appearance, and they are quick.”
“Do they ever come in here,” Bishop asked.
“They did in the past, but we’ve learned to keep the area free from what attracts them. We are careful in how we preserve and process our animals.”
“I saw one of them eat a wild dog alive, out on the plains.”
“They don’t care whether something is alive or not. I don’t believe they really think much at all. I’ve seen several of them attack a wounded lion before. The lion killed two of them before becoming dinner himself. They are more of a mindless animal than anything else.”
“Good to know.”
They retreated to Weston’s lodge after the meal. Bishop enjoyed both the meal and the company. He had not had fresh vegetables in the mountain, nor fresh meat. It was all genetically modified protein sources, created in their own labs. It was eating out of necessity, not out of desire. When the two men were alone, Weston offered him a seat.
“So, you know a little about us, and how we got here, how about you?”
Bishop looked at him and decided there was no threat in revealing himself. “Alright, we’ll take turns. You get an answer, you give an answer,” Bishop said reasonably, and Weston agreed.
“How did you survive in the mountains,” Weston asked.
“Cheyenne Mountain―underground military base. They had been preparing for something like this for a long time, and they knew about the event before it happened. My father was one of the ranking members on staff, and he ensured I was inside before it happened. I didn’t know what was going on until after the fact.”
“Makes sense,” Weston said.
“How many of you are out here,” Bishop asked.
“Now, we are about eight hundred and counting. When we first arrived, there were over twenty-four hundred of us. We lost about eighty percent of our numbers in the first few years. Our birth rate has improved and we are finally growing.”