Chapter 1
The night smelled of smoke and rot.
Arlo kept his head down as he walked back to the warren with the other omegas, his hand clutched tightly around the tin lantern that cast a battery-fed glow against the dirt. It flickered, signalling it was about to go out.
The settlement felt eerily quiet tonight. Too quiet.
The metal shacks usually vibrated with the late sounds of chatter and muffled shouts, but tonight, the silence was thick. The kind that presses on your eardrums. He heard a sharp, distant scratch of a rat in the refuse more clearly than the footsteps of the omega next to him.
The hairs on the back of Arlo’s neck stood up. Something didn’t feel quite right, but he couldn’t understand why. He glanced around, wondering if anyone else had noticed the strange feeling in the air. That strange sense of danger.
“Arlo?” Miles called, a tang of worry in his voice. They had spent years side-by-side in the dirt of this settlement, their friendship forged in long shifts and shared rations.
There was no laughter, no barter calls, just the sharp scrape of metal doors being bolted shut. A sound that would set your teeth on edge.
There had been whispers of nearby settlements being attacked more frequently lately. Ferals weren’t very bright creatures to begin with but could they be evolving? From years of starvation? Surviving out there? Arlo didn’t want to think about it. He swallowed, hoping to push the feeling of threat back. He said nothing, not wanting to startle Miles or anyone else.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go.” Arlo turned, heading back to the Warren to join the other omegas there.
Then, a single howl split the air, sharp and intelligent, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.
He froze, the lantern he had been gripping hit the ground with a thud. Arlo’s heart hammered against his ribcage. Dread began to seep into his bones as he turned slowly, searching for the culprit of the howl.
Arlo’s eyes caught on something from the inky shadows beyond the barricade, shapes moved—too fast. Too coordinated. He thought of his late mother’s warning: Ferals never hunt alone.
The shapes didn’t shuffle; they flowed, like a wave of shadow and bone that seemed to swallow the light just outside the perimeter.
The warning bell screamed through the night, and suddenly the settlement was alive with alarm and panic. Alphas shouted orders, Betas scrambled for weapons, Omegas ran for cover.
Arlo’s lantern flickered out, the inky darkness swallowing them as claws scraped against the makeshift barriers.
He had only one thought: survive.
“Arlo run!”
Miles’ voice broke through the din, snapping him from his daze.
“What the hell are you doing! Run!” He snatched Arlo’s collar and shoved him towards the warren. They ran as fast as they could, grass and stones flicked up from under their feet. He could barely hear their footsteps over the panic around them.
Harrowing screams of other villagers began to fill the air. They’ve managed to break through! Arlo thought as they continued to scramble, weaving between shelters and objects.
The warren came into view and a beta, Jason, was standing beside the entrance. He was about to shut the door, locking everyone out to suffer their fate.
Arlo’s stomach dropped. No!…
“Wait, please! Don’t leave us out here!” Arlo cried out, his voice scraping as the words escaped his mouth. “Please wait!”
Jason turned his gaze to Arlo and Miles, his face was pale with fear. “Hurry up! Go! Go! Go!” He yelled to them gesturing to the door. Thank you, thank you, Jason! Arlo thought to himself.
Then a shadowy figure bowled into Jason, knocking him to the ground with a hard crack, the sound flipping Arlo’s stomach. The figure then leaped on top of him and began devouring. Jason screamed, a desperate guttural cry.
Arlo came to a halt, clasping his hand to his mouth to stop the scream from bursting out. “Fuck!” Arlo sobbed, frozen on the spot as he watched the feral devour. Blood, bright and glistening in the night began to splatter and pool around Jason and the feral.
Arlo whipped his head around, eyes darting to find something, anything! A safe place, but there was none. Nowhere was safe during a feral attack! Dammit!
Miles grabbed hold of Arlo’s arm so tight, Arlo thought it might bleed. “What do we do? What the fuck do we do?” Miles sobbed. His eyes were wide and watery as they peered into Arlo’s own eyes.
Screams and howls continued to attack Arlo’s ears as he scanned for something to use as a weapon. A faint glint in the dark caught his eye. He pushed Miles aside and darted for it. Arlo pulled the glinting object from the ground to find it was a machete. Yes! He thought, but he wasn’t so sure he didn’t actually scream at that moment. Arlo pulled Miles behind him and stepped toward the warren again.
Jason’s cries had been cut short, swallowed by the sound of tearing flesh. Arlo pointed the machete straight at the feral as they shuffled slowly towards the door, trying not to make a sound. He could still hear people running and screaming as his heart threatened to leap out of his throat.
They were almost at the door when Miles kicked over a bucket which alerted the feral. Arlo’s breath hitched.
Its eyes snapped to Arlo and Miles. Its stare was cold. Dead. Blood dripped from its maw, thick and warm.
It lunged for the two boys and Arlo swung wildly with the machete. A shrill screech filled the air then a thud, sending vibrations up Arlo’s arm. When he looked back he was shocked to see the feral in a heap on the ground, the machete protruded from its head. Arlo let out a shaky breath and released it.
He stared, eyes wide and heart pounding. Did he really just do that? Did he actually kill a feral?
“Let’s go!” Miles pulled Arlo through the warren entrance. Together they pushed at the door and it finally slammed shut. Arlo and Miles both collapsed back against the door. When Arlo had managed to catch his breath enough to speak, he looked over to his best friend who was still struggling.
“You ok?”
Miles looked at Arlo and instead of responding he just nodded. Arlo finally felt like he could truly breathe as relief washed over him. He couldn’t believe they had both survived a feral attack.
The relief was short lived though. He looked down at his trembling hands. They were sticky, covered in blood. He didn’t know if it was feral blood or Jason’s. He didn’t want to know. The sharp, metallic smell hit him then, and he gagged. He had just killed that thing. And it killed Jason. The horror on Jason’s face and his screams began to replay in Arlo’s mind. He really tried to help them. But why? Why would he risk his own life for an omega? Arlo would never know now. He wished he could have saved him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the images of Jason being… he didn’t even want to think. Thank you, Jason. I’ll never forget this.
After a few minutes of gathering themselves they dusted themselves off to check if anyone else made it inside.
Miles followed Arlo through the dark halls of the warren, checking every room and found no one until they reached the common room. It was a large enough room to hold maybe 50 people. But as they entered they saw only about a dozen or so people had made it. One alpha, two betas and the rest omegas. The alpha, a man with broad, sweat streaked shoulders, stood near the center, looking less like a leader and more like a pillar barely holding up the ceiling. The youngest of the survivors appeared to be only 12 or 13 years old. He was trembling, his face white as a ghost. A female omega was beside the young boy, attempting to comfort him. Arlo had a feeling that she wasn’t his mother. Likely that boy had just become an orphan.
The room didn’t just look like defeat; it smelled like one. The air was so thick with the sharp tang of fear, it made Arlo’s eyes sting. The alpha’s usually commanding presence was drowned out by it. He didn’t smell like a leader, he smelled like a cornered animal.
Their eyes were wide when they saw Arlo and Miles approach. “Did anyone else make it?” One male omega asked shakily.
Arlo shook his head and his heart sank.
“Jason? Is he?...” Another omega, female this time.
The realization hit Arlo when their eyes met. This was probably his partner. “I… I’m sorry, he didn’t make it.”
Her lip trembled and she shook her head in understanding. Arlo’s heart ached for her. He knew that hollow look; he’d carried it himself only a few months ago when the village healers had stood over his mother, helpless against the sickness that took her.
As he watched the woman’s grief, a dark, shameful thought crossed his mind: he was glad his mother was gone. She had passed quietly, slipping away in her sleep while he held her hand. It was a mercy compared to this. She wouldn’t have survived the night, and Arlo didn’t know if he could have borne the sight of a feral’s teeth in the woman who gave him life. At least she had died in peace, not in a scream.
But there was no time for old ghosts. “What are we going to do?” Arlo followed their gaze to the center of the room. Everyone was looking to the Alpha for answers—waiting for the governing strength they had been taught to rely on. Alphas were in charge after all. They governed everything.
But as Arlo studied the man’s quivering brow, his stomach sank. The alpha gazed around the room, taking in the survivors and their need for guidance and instruction. “I… I don’t know,” he whispered. A cold silence fell over the room. Arlo scanned the man, looking for the steel he expected from an Alpha, but he saw only a common soldier—the kind meant to guard caravans or haul crates. Without a High Alpha to give him orders, the man looked as lost as any Beta. “We’re safe here for the night.” He said with slightly more confidence. “We will figure out what our next steps are in the morning. Tonight, tend to the wounded, eat, rest. And pray that we find other survivors.” His face was grave. As much as Arlo despised alphas, he wouldn’t wish this night upon anyone. This man, this alpha, he couldn’t possibly lead these people alone. They can’t hunt or gather with only a single alpha—a leader who just admitted he didn’t know what to do. We would all be doomed if we stayed here, Arlo thought.
Everyone turned to each other, checking for wounds, some began preparing food. Although this place was a dump, it was also a fortress. Made from thick layers of scrap metal, leftover from the city. No windows and only one door. They really were safe here and there was enough food to get them by for a few days. At least they had that going for them.
After helping the others dress wounds, Arlo and Miles found a bed to share. Arlo had skipped dinner. There was no way he could eat anything after seeing what he saw tonight. The colour red, shiny and wet flickered in his mind and he felt bile rise in his throat. That was blood. Blood of a man he knew. A man who had a partner. A man who died to save them. And he could never repay that debt. After a quick goodnight to Miles, Arlo lay down beside him to sleep.
But who could sleep after all that. Everything replayed in his head over and over. Jason. The screams. The bell. Flashes of a mouth, gaping and rotten, dripping with blood, people running for their lives. The machete protruding from the head of that creature. It was like a living nightmare.
And what would even happen to them now? Would they be killed the moment they opened that door? Would they die of suffocation in this hell hole? Or would they starve to death because they can’t hunt or gather with only a single alpha—a leader who just admitted he didn’t know what to do?
They were truly doomed.
