Ashley did not know of Trevor’s relationship with Nina Forest. Nonetheless, it did not take her long to realize she did not hold Trevor’s heart. Not firmly, at least.
They shared the same bed. Sometimes there was affection and there was always kindness.
It seemed Ashley had come to believe she played a role in all this, too. The role of JB’s mother. The role of Trevor’s supportive companion. A place for her in the world of nightmares she had awoken to. Like him, it was a role forced upon her.
Trevor watched the Eagle patrol ship move across the waters of the lake. Ashley stood next to him.
“Beautiful night,” she said. “I’m going to bed now. You’re welcome to join me.”
An invitation. Yet no matter how heated their embrace may become when they shared warmth, they both sensed a barrier between them. The same barrier imprisoning them in their roles in the new world.
Oh, it was not a harsh prison. She was beautiful. He had evolved into a handsome, chiseled man. There were worse fates.
Trevor looked out at the August night one more time. The lights of the patrol craft faded in the distance.
He thought he would accept the invitation. To feel her touch would be…would be nice.
Trevor walked away from the balcony…
…Through binoculars, a pair of eyes watched Trevor disappear inside the mansion.
The figure stood amongst the trees on the slope of the mountain. He had watched the estate for a long time. For days now.
At the same moment he watched Trevor move from view, the shadowy figure realized they had caught his scent.
Two Siberian Huskies abandoned their patrol route and raced toward the scent of the intruder. They came upon the shadowy man standing amidst the trees. They sensed he did not belong.
The shadow stood still as the angry dogs approached. He heard their snarls. He felt them prepare to strike, slowing as they circled the trapped quarry.
“Very good,” he patted his hands together in a quiet clap, cheering the dogs for their keen awareness. “You must be the best of the best,” he spoke as their nostrils flared. “What a shame.”
The Grenadiers stepped closer; snarls gasped from their snouts.
Then they hesitated.
The snarls stopped. Each tried to bark but only a tiny yap came from their throats.
Then the dogs whined as if an unpleasant scent assaulted their noses.
Anger came again. More snarls, this time not directed at the shadowy intruder in the woods but at each other.
The Huskies circled one another, twitching and drooling as they moved. Then they crashed together, teeth ripping and claws tearing. Blood spilled as they twisted and wrestled in the woods.
The shadowy figure turned and slowly walked away as the two K9s tore each other apart, inflicting mortal wounds and eventually slumping to the ground motionless as their lifeblood drained.
The man disappeared into the shadows. He would not be seen again until he chose to be seen. It was not time yet. That time would come, soon enough.
Soon enough.
3. Fishing
Nina turned off the shower and stepped from behind the curtain. A solitary ray of morning light entered between warped window blinds, cut across the small dorm room, and shot through the open door to the steam-filled bathroom like a golden laser.
While the room lacked electricity, the engineers managed to get the residence hall’s hot water heaters up and running, something Nina greatly appreciated.
Her towel wiped the inside thigh of her left leg, just below a tattoo depicting the profile of a wolf’s head. She paused and stared at the rendering permanently sketched on her body. The drawing still baffled her. More precisely, how had she worked up the courage-or stupidity-to allow a fat, smelly biker-dude ‘ink’ her?
It all started when she led a group of commandos on a mission behind enemy lines outside of Pittsburgh. Things went FUBAR and they found themselves surrounded by three-legged plasma-rifle-wielding platypus aliens. She and her men expected to die and hoped only to kill a number of the enemy before the end.
Instead, her commando unit not only survived, but turned the tables so thoroughly the aliens ran for their lives. Indeed, eschewing the opportunity to slip quietly away, Nina and her team chased the fleeing aliens and slaughtered them like wolves on the hunt.
On that day, Special Forces Unit Alpha-One became the Dark Wolves.
When they had returned to base camp a sense of euphoria overcame the team. Drinking, laughing, and then finally a dare to seal their bond. Each of the four agreed to the tattoo.
Before that year of lost memories, the idea of a tattoo abhorred her. Yet on that day she consented and not all of her consent could be blamed on alcohol.
Ever since the day four years ago when she opened her eyes inside the bowels of The Order’s abandoned base in Allentown with Jerry Shepherd the only familiar face in a room full of strangers, she felt something missing in her life.
Like an elusive itch defying all attempts to scratch, Nina failed to satiate that feeling. Perhaps the adventure of getting the risque tattoo had served as another scratch and like all the others, it failed to chase a sense of loss. Of emptiness.
She experimented with relationships over the years, even taking two lovers. Yet each ended in failure and she placed the blame on herself. She always stopped short of opening herself to people and she found no interest in casual flings: she could never separate the physical intimacy from the emotional.
Thus, she focused almost entirely on her work. This produced the best results. She felt most at home on the battlefield or sneaking behind enemy lines or picking off an alien leader with a sniper rifle at three hundred yards. In such cases, the mission may be difficult and dangerous but at least the goals were well defined.
Nonetheless, as much as she tried to submerge herself in work; as much as she tried to chase away that empty feeling; it managed to return. It always wormed through to nag at her, particularly between missions.
Nina moved into the center of the dorm room, strapped on her watch and slipped into black BDUs. A North Carolina State Wolfpack pennant decorated one wall, a small refrigerator filled with skunked beer sat between two skinny beds. The whole place smelled old and dusty; the calendar remained stuck on a summer day five years past.
A stranger’s room with a stranger’s stuff. She owned only an assault rifle and a duffle bag of equipment that traveled with her from mission to mission. Everything else in that place belonged to a world long-gone; echoes from a civilization ground to dust.
Wait, no, one more item belonged to her: a fishing pole propped in a corner.
Nina checked her watch and realized she had enough time to put that fishing pole to use.
Not far from the campus of North Carolina State University lapped the calm waters of Lake Johnson, situated on the southwestern corner of Raleigh within the perimeter of the Hivvan walls.
General Jerry Shepherd and Nina Forest sat on an isolated grassy bank with their lines cast in the lake. No bites came and given the strands of industrial slime floating on the surface after years of Hivvan manufacturing, they doubted anything edible lived in those waters. In fact, they worried more about something unearthly coming from the depths to feast on them.
Of course, catching fish was not the point.
Jerry Shepherd had been Nina’s mentor in the Philadelphia police force. Since those days, she viewed him as sort of a second father.
A veteran of both the military and law enforcement, Shep treated Nina like a soldier since the day he first met her, not like some chick trying to muscle her way onto the sacred ground of masculinity. Ironically, Nina Forest‘s disposition remained shy and reclusive, except on the battlefield. Except on a mission.
Except-Nina might add-when getting wolf tattoos etched on her upper thigh.