The Empty (31 page)

The doc rose as well, also sniffing at the air. “Who are the intruders? What’s the situation?”

“Bytneht Noavor, a young upstart chieftain. I found a claw earlier and recognized it as from a jackrabbit molt. Noavor uses these as spies because they hear well and flee quickly. I have anticipated this assault, but apparently misread the timing.” The lights went out then, along with the air conditioning. Immediately, Tresset marched through the doorway, barking orders to his pack, the doc following at his heels.

Stepping through the doorway, Shane saw Tresset stride into the darkness, calling out names, ordering reyaqc into predetermined positions. There was a certain glee to his voice as the first sounds of battle ensued. Shane’s gut tightened. What kind of lunatic got off on the slaughter of his people? He’d heard of pack raids, read of them in Donald Baker’s
Histories
. They could be brutal things.

No, not could be. They were outright savage—always.

The raiding party would seek to kill all males, for they wanted no further opposition from the pack. The females were dragged away to be passed among the ranks. They would find a place in the new pack as breeders, little more than slaves, but at least they would live. The human givers would be treated similarly. Shane’s only small encouragement was that these reyaqc packs shunned the use of weapons. It was a matter of pride that these death battles be done hand-to-hand. The only exception was the use of fire as this drew the sleeping community out of their homes and into the fray.

Stepping forward, Shane grabbed the doc just above an elbow. “We’ve got to get Jules and get out of here. If we’re captured, they’ll drain us both till we’re dust.”

The doc nodded absently. “You have the keys to the Hummer. Get Julia. Take her away. I’ll contact you in the morning.” He paused. “That is, assuming I’ve survived.”

“Come with us. This isn’t your fight.”

The doc shook his head slowly. “There you are wrong, Mr. Daws. This is very much my battle. If ever the reyaqc are to rise above savagery, if ever we are to escape extinction, these petty slaughters must cease. I hope to be a voice of reason amidst insanity. Now, go. Julia is in peril. Get her away—the young pregnant molt, Minya, as well.” He turned, vanishing into the darkness. It was the last time Shane would see Donald Baker.

Clinging to the shadows, Shane slipped quietly around the low narrow building housing Tresset’s office. The hut where Julia rested was not too far distant, but he needed to be cautious. The reyaqc had keen night vision and sense of smell. Shane was at a distinct disadvantage and could be of no help to Julia if he was captured or killed.

Figures raced in every direction; reyaqc rolled about the rocky ground clawing and biting at one another. There was a loud whoosh from the north. Shane turned to see a large corrugated building ablaze. Flames and smoke shot out from the windows and doorway. Reyaqc raced from the inferno into the waiting mob.

Shane sprinted to the next building; a small shed similar to the one occupied by Julia. Hers was now the next to the south. Glancing in each direction, he made his way to his intended destination and peeked around the front of the hut. The door was closed. There was a rush of activity to his right, but he couldn’t distinguish the action. Another building went up in flames. Already, the air tasted of bonfire. Five quick steps and Shane slipped around the corner and in through the unlocked door.

Empty.

Now what? Where had Julia gone? Had she been caught? Shane cursed himself. If on their first meeting he hadn’t encouraged her to seek the doc’s help, she never would have become involved. If she died it would be his fault. Hearing the harsh sounds of battle, Shane wondered how he had ever found the reyaqc romantic or noble. Had he been so blinded by the mysteries of this race that he’d failed to see the reality of their condition? How could he have been so gullible?

Loneliness, he supposed. A need to belong. He wondered how many were led down similar paths of destruction by these simple human desires.

But, Julia?

Where to find Julia.

None of this was her fault. Unlike Shane, she wasn’t a willing participant in the matters of the reyaqc.

There was a sharp thud at the side of the building, growls, the sounds of battle. Two figures snarled and slashed just beyond the doorway. And then, abruptly, there was a soft thud and the brawl was at an end. Who had been the victor? One of Tresset’s molts, or the invader? If it was an assailant, Shane was likely in serious trouble. He stood silent, breath held, eyes focused on the thin wooden door. What should he do if a raider came through the doorway? He had no weapon and doubted his strength would equal that of a battle-tested reyaqc.

Five more seconds, now ten. Shane released his breath in a slow silent stream and then inhaled with similar care. Was the victor still beyond the door? He hadn’t heard departing footsteps, but reyaqc could be stealthy.

A sound.

Had the handle just turned?

Shane swallowed. His fists clenched. And now, yes, the knob was turning, the door swinging open.

A great form moved confidently into the room. The reyaqc must have been six-five, three-fifty, with the bulk and form of a brown bear. As the molt bared its teeth and stepped forward, Shane grabbed the only possible weapon available—the cot on which Julia had lain. It was awkward but, having an aluminum frame, not heavy. Holding it before him like a shield, he charged the startled molt, hitting him just above the waist. The charge did not harm the reyaqc. It didn’t even cause him to step backward or lose his footing. But it had surprised him. As the roaring molt tossed the cot aside, Shane raced through the doorway, turned right, and then right again, racing into the darkness, away from the compound, and toward the foothills bordering the eastern side of the settlement.

Shadowed forms loomed above, blocking his escape, advancing on him even as he made the incline. Over half of the complex was ablaze and numerous eyes glowed an eerie yellow-white in the flickering firelight. Shane cut right, racing along the eastern slope. Footsteps loomed close behind. His left foot connected with a low-lying shrub, he nearly tumbled forward, but righted himself at the last. He had no choice. To stumble now would mean to die. Veering west, he darted between two small structures and onto more level ground. There came a horrific howl from behind. Shane cut left and rolled just as a dark form lunged to where he had been only a second before.

A piercing sound rose above the cacophony of battle. Something familiar, yet too faint to distinguish. There it was again. Even as he raced across the uneven ground, he cocked his head to the left. There were two shapes, just to the southwest. Was that Julia and the young reyaqc girl, Minya? It seemed the girl was in labor with Julia crouching over her to deliver the pup. But even this momentary distraction was catastrophic. Shane felt warm breath beside his throat, and then there was a sharp puncture and ripping.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“Shane!” cried Julia, though it was doubtful he could hear her amidst the screeches and howls of battling reyaqc. He’d appeared from between two buildings, racing as if the devil himself was at his heels. And the demon lord might well have been, for three dark and savage forms bounded after him. They would be atop him in seconds, maybe less. “Shane!” she shouted again, but then stopped herself mid-cry. To distract him was to kill him. Though, truthfully it seemed the outcome was a given.

His head snapped in her direction—only for a moment. There was recognition. But then the nearest aggressor was upon him, its jaw clamped tightly to Shane’s neck. There was no cry of pain, no prolonged struggle. The two simply tumbled to the rock-strewn ground, rolled twice, and came to a halt. The reyaqc leaped to his feet, felt about in his mouth as if picking something from his teeth, and then rejoined his companions. Shane lay motionless in the dirt, a dark puddle spreading beneath him.

Julia’s heart thundered. Shane was her only human connection to the outside world, the only one who, like herself, might seek to flee this madness. Even more, despite his connection to Donald Baker, she suddenly realized this was someone she might one day have called friend. They developed something of a bonding during their confinement. He might not yet know it, but Shane was a man of character. Julia patted Minya on the cheek, whispering that she’d return in a moment, and then, keeping low, Julia managed an uneven jog to where Shane lay. Her head swam, her vision dimmed, and it seemed she might pass out from the exertion. But somehow she made the trek and knelt beside Shane. The damage was bad. Already, he’d lost significant blood. There were several jagged wounds about the area of the carotid triangle. At least three of these were critical. A sharp curved razor-like tooth, perhaps three inches in length, protruded from his neck just beside the subclavian artery. Julia was hesitant to remove this for fear she might release another flood of bleeding. He was in and out of consciousness, his breathing labored. Even with proper medical care, it was unlikely he’d survive more than minutes. Still, Julia kicked into trauma mode: applying pressure, assessing vital signs.

And then Minya cried out in pain.

Reality.

Even in the flickering firelight, a fresh flood of blood gushed from the reyaqc girl. Her body shuddered and bucked. Julia glanced down at Shane’s still form. Basic triage. The choice was really no choice at all, or so the textbooks would tell her. Shane was too far gone to mend. But Minya and her unborn child—these, Julia could at least hope to save. In an almost indiscernible whisper, Julia leaned forward and said, “I’m sorry, Shane.” With one last sorrowful glance at the dying man, she returned to her duty.

Minya was gasping, her breathing labored, her contractions sharp and uneven. The blood loss was astounding. Julia didn’t know reyaqc physiology, but most mammals were similar in the birthing experience, and this was obviously an emergency situation. “Hang in there, Minya,” urged Julia as she wiped Shane’s blood from her hands onto her pants and repositioned herself between the young mother’s legs. “Don’t fall asleep. I need you with me through this.”

Minya nodded with a grimace, but remained silent. Her eyes fluttered. It seemed she strained to maintain consciousness. To the west, a flaming building succumbed, collapsing in upon itself. Reyaqc ran to and fro, seemingly oblivious to the life and death scene just a few yards distant. Or perhaps, Julia and Minya offered no threat, and thus could be attended to later.

Uneasy that she was not remotely sterile, Julia pressed Minya’s legs further apart, reached inside the girl, and muttered a string of syllables, which may have served as a curse or a prayer. The child was a footling breech, both feet presenting. To complicate matters further, the umbilical cord was prolapsed, the umbilical vein obstructed. The risk was that the fetus would continue to pump blood out of the placenta, while getting nothing in return, causing hypoxia and hypovolemia—shock from decrease of accessible blood volume. Immediate delivery was a necessity. If she didn’t get the baby out of the mother now, she’d likely lose them both.

Delicately, and with great skill, Julia reached deeper, clasping the cord between her thumb and index fingers. She felt the soft throb of the child’s pulse, but it was weak, erratic. Carefully, Julia endeavored to reposition the child, but with no success. The fetus was too far down the birth canal to maneuver, was lodged tight, and in such a position as she could not extract the child vaginally.

Julia heard a loud crackle and only then realized that the structure nearest her—perhaps thirty yards distant—was now ablaze. Already, the increased heat seared the air. Sweat dripped off her brow onto Minya’s swollen abdomen. The girl gazed at her through gritted teeth, her white featureless eyes fearful and moist. “Dr. Julia, my baby?” Her voice was weak, pained. It was obviously a great effort to utter even these few words.

Extracting her hands from the birth canal, Julia inched closer to Minya’s head. “Can you hear me?” she asked.

The young reyaqc girl nodded as she gritted her teeth at the onset of yet another brutal contraction.

“There’s a problem,” said Julia. “The baby is facing the wrong way. It’s stuck and I have no means of moving it forward. The umbilical cord is prolapsed. No fresh oxygen is getting to your child. It’s imperative we birth now if the baby is to survive.”

“My baby!” gasped the girl.

Julia sighed and nodded. “This gets worse, Minya. I need you to listen very carefully. The baby’s only hope is that I perform a cesarean section. That means I’ll cut here and pull the baby out through the opening.” Julia drew a line with her finger just above the girl’s pubic bone. “Minya, I have no anesthesia to diminish the pain.”

The girl looked at Julia through moist child-like eyes. “I will deal with the pain, Dr. Julia. Rescue my baby.”

Julia nodded, drawing in a long breath. “Minya, I have no medical supplies. I have no way to suture you back together. You’ve already lost an amazing amount of blood. That combined with the shock the cesarean will cause to your system…” Julia hesitated. “Minya, there’s very little chance you’ll survive.”

The girl stared at Julia, apparently processing the information. “If you do not perform this ce-ces…?”

“Cesarean section,” offered Julia. “If not, your baby will most certainly die, and likely you as well. I’m sorry, Minya, but there’s very little choice.”

Minya nodded and clasped Julia’s hand. Her childlike face was pale and fearful. Her lips quivered as she spoke. “Save my baby, Dr. Julia.”

“I’ll do everything I can, Minya. I promise.” Julia paused for just a moment and then asked. “The baby’s father, who is he? I’ll need to bring the baby to him.” Though, Julia wondered if the father was even still alive at this point. The entire compound now seemed strewn with bodies.

“Dolnaraq,” said the girl. “Dolnaraq is the father.”

“Dolnaraq?” Wasn’t that the name Tresset Bremu used when addressing Donald Baker? “You’re saying Donald Baker’s the father?”