It isn’t until he is running in the sunlight filtering through the heavy canopy that he realizes where he is. His eyes drift sideways, flicker over the cutout pit full of white bones and ash. It’s the first time he registers real emotion and begins to think of himself as human again.
Reid pauses only one moment to look around, feeling bile rise to his throat, a scream of fury right behind it. The pit. The mineshaft. All of it, right there in front of him.
Had they found the exit, he and the kids he ran with, they would have come out of the mountain almost exactly where they went in.
The understanding fills him with so much rage his fists clench. He looks down at his hands, surprise cutting through his anger.
His left curls forward, as human as he remembers. But then again, so is his right.
In fact, his whole body feels different, a rush of release easing a knot of something he didn’t know existed inside him until it flexes and disappears. Reid feels the hunter still within him, his access to his hyper senses even stronger than before. But his body is human again and he is suddenly and violently grateful.
It’s not just his body that’s changed. It’s like his mind has reverted as well. The formality of the hunter mentality has left him, along with the odd, chuffing language. Reid feels almost as if someone else, a perfected version of himself, has just given him back control over his life.
He’s oddly disappointed. At least when he is a hunter everything makes sense.
The pack runs on without him, leaving him behind, flickering ahead through the trees and for a moment he panics. If he is normal again, he is prey. Until he jerks to one side as someone runs past him and sees another kid just like him. Only this guy is dressed in a skin-tight black suit, hood pulled up just like a hunter. But he is human, as human as Reid. He flashes a grin and keeps running.
Reid runs after him, heart pounding hard as he struggles to understand what is happening. For now there are no answers, nor do they matter. All that remains is the pounding of his feet on the ground and the rush of wind over his hot skin.
The others run hard but he catches them easily, even outpaces a few. They are all human, all of them, even the giant creatures he once feared now appearing through the thick trees in flashes of images reverted back to their natural form. Dogs, at least a dozen of them, from German Shepherds to a rangy border collie, all reduced to what they once were.
He runs past a girl who glances at him. Reid is so startled by what he sees he stumbles a moment and hears her laugh. One of her eyes has gone back to a chocolate brown but the other shines silver.
Reid’s blood lust is gone, his stomach wanting to heave at the memory of eating the soft innards of the dead. But he can’t think about that now, can’t retreat into that private hell. Maybe one day, when this is over and if he has survived he will find the time to mourn and weep and maybe even learn to forgive himself all he has done, but for now he must use it or die with it.
He chooses to let it feed him and drive him on.
Reid is still connected to them, can feel the ebb and flow of the pack around him though he no longer thinks of them as siblings. The ones ahead slow and he matches pace, until they come to a halt near a flow of water. He watches them bend to drink, stares into the softly bubbling brook and flashes to the beginning all over again.
Reid is forced to shake his head to break loose of the memory, the thirst, the hunter, the race through the meadow. Finding Scar and Mustache. It’s all right here, in this place. They have come so far, so much farther than he could ever have so quickly, realizing only then how convoluted the path he ran when he was afraid.
So much for his sense of direction.
He is bending to take an empty place, mouth suddenly parched from the memory, when he feels someone approaching at speed. Reid whirls in time, blocks the surging attack of a tall, slim guy with dark hair and a regretful grimace on his face.
Reid lands the first punch, not allowing the other even a chance at defense. The other goes down, hitting his knees hard, blood rushing from his nose. Reid stands over him, fists still clenched, scanning the watching crowd, trying not to shudder from the occasional silver eyes that greet him.
“Want to try that again?”
Hazel eyes glare back. “It’s all your fault. You shouldn’t be here with us. You should be dead and Daryl should be here.” The guy drags himself to his feet and faces Reid down. There is a hungry part of him that absorbs the tangy scent of copper like a drug, distracting him with its delicious promise. “We had a plan and it was working perfectly till you and your friends showed up.” Blood smears over the back of the guy’s hand as he wipes at his nose. “We should kill you right now.”
Reid feels their animosity, all of them. They’ve finally gotten around to noticing who he is and what he stands for.
It makes his rage rise again. He’s not taking their crap. Not after what he’s been through.
“You’re blaming me.” Reid shoves his opponent hard, one foot snaking out, kicking him to the ground. “You’re really blaming me.” He looks around at the others who stare, some sullen, some with open grins on their humorless faces. “After you chased me and killed my friends and ate them. Tried to kill me.” Reid feels insane laughter bubble, lets it show on his face so even those horrible smirks aimed at him fade away. “Are you freaking serious?” Reid lashes out with one sneakered foot, taking the guy in the side, lifting him from the ground with the power of the blow, hearing the crunch of bone as a couple of ribs relocate themselves. The guy rolls away, groaning, while Reid battles his rage for control.
He looks around at the others, now seeing admiration from some, fear from others. Better. Not ideal. Ideally they would all fear him. And while the part of him that is the old Reid mourns the loss of innocence, he knows he must stay in control here or die.
He’s come too far to die now.
“You make it sound like we had a choice.” The speaker is a girl, the one with the silver eye, long blonde hair tied back in a thick braid. Her skin is pale, though not as fair as Leila’s but reminds him of the girl who has his heart so much he pauses before saying anything back.
“That doesn’t matter anymore.” At least, not at the moment. They have more important things to worry about than fighting among themselves. “We need to get to the gate.” Escape is as necessary as ever. Even more so now. Because he knows if the rest of the pack doesn’t kill him, the soldiers will.
“You’re throwing around a lot of orders.” The voice comes from the back of the pack but Reid knows it, has heard it before, thought it silenced forever by the claws of the hunters. His stomach clenches as the familiar bulky shape of Joel steps out into the full light. The bully’s thick lips twist into that same old shark grin but this time there is genuine hatred behind it. Not teenaged anger or the angst of the young, but deep and primal hate as ageless as the sun.
Reid can only stare and process and try to understand why and how while Joel forces his bulky body forward. He is much leaner and harder looking than Reid remembers, all the softness and fat gone from his face. Instead, he is sharp angles and threatening darkness when he steps up to Reid and punches his shoulder.
Reid staggers back a step from the blow, recovering at last, almost grateful for the pain of it because it snaps him back to reality.
“You’re dead.” It’s all he can manage and makes Joel laugh.
“Not yet, I ain’t,” Joel says. “But for a bit I wished I was. That beating you gave me, that hurt like a ‘sumbitch.” He hadn’t lost his favorite swear at least. “But the hunters, they knew my potential, see? Understood my special qualities.” Some of the others laugh. “Recruited me right then and there and I’ve been a happy member of this here little family ever since.”
Reid’s hands want to lift, fingers ache to wrap around Joel’s throat and squeeze. But he holds off, restrains himself, sensing the support the bully has with the other members. He remembers the hunter he killed, the one who gave his dust to Reid to save his life. He said something about making more. And of course Reid knows about the qualities of the dust. It makes sense they would recruit those they saw fit to join their ranks, those without GPS locators inside them.
“If it wasn’t for you,” Joel starts a slow circle of Reid, eyes never leaving him, “we’d be gone by now, the whole fam damily. Dust and all, happy and free. But see, here’s the thing. Someone screwed this up for us. One big bang,” he claps his hands together so loud Reid has to order himself to stay still, “and it’s bye-bye chance at happiness. So, I’m thinking Billy over there is right.” He gestures at the fallen guy with the blood on his face. “You and your little friends screwed our pooch.” Joel stops in front of Reid, face to face. “Someone’s got to pay for that mess, don’t you think?”
They mutter and scowl, most of them anyway. A few hold off, looking uncomfortable, as though they were never invited to this party and would prefer to remain anonymous. Reid catalogues their faces while he deliberately stares the rest of them down, his last target the bully in his space.
“You’re an idiot.” It makes Joel rock back in shock. As if this was the last thing he was expecting. “You think the Colonel wasn’t ready for you?” Reid is grasping, has no idea, but can only assume someone with authority and explosives managed to stop them. “That he didn’t know something like this was coming?”
Joel looks skeptical but Reid can feel the rest of them. Their blame is easing, tension leaving as they listen, pay attention. He takes it as a good sign and continues.
“You screwed this up yourselves,” Reid says in a slow and spiteful hiss right into Joel’s face. “Had to have them save you. I did my own saving. What does that say about you, huh?”
The laughter is louder for him than it was for his opponent. Joel knows when he’s beat, Reid can see it in his eyes. But the hate remains, even when the bully backs down with a smirk.
“Well, good for you.” Joel laughs out loud, looking around as if for support, though Reid is starting to worry about his sanity. “We’re all impressed, aren’t we?”
The murderous urges are gone, replaced by acceptance. Reid allows himself to relax a little. But only a little. He is still surrounded by a bunch of people who killed and ate innocent kids. He can’t get himself past that truth no matter how hard he tries.
Never mind he ate his own share. But they were hunters first, so he tells himself they didn’t count.
“Always knew you were one of us anyway,” Joel says. “Saw the killer in your eyes that first time we met. Bet you just loved the taste, right? That first slurp of soft and hot?” Joel makes a grotesque sound with his thick lips. “All that sweet blood filling you up?” He slaps his gut with both hands. “Damn if some of them kids didn’t hit the old spot.”
This time Joel’s laughter is too much. Reid feels the monster inside him rise, slam to the surface and seize him hard. His hyper senses sharpen, vision focused so tightly on the taunting bully in front of him he almost misses the interruption of another familiar voice.
Almost. But not quite. There is no way his rage could survive this last shock.
“Joel,” Drew says, “shut the hell up.”
***