A hint of blood in the air reaches her nostrils making her edge further around her protective tree. The sight and smell of the two-legged ones causes something inside to rise; something primal. The two-legged ones heighten her already ferocious nature; multiplying it to a great extent. Their scent triggers this primal aspect and the sight of them drives the basic urge to attack and feed. Yet, they’ve learned. Oh yes they have. The primitive urge lies within her but fear and experience has tempered it to a more controllable nature.
The lights continue to fall around the edge. The smell of blood thickens. It’s apparently too much for some of the packs as they shriek and head out into the light streaking for the fence. Yes, she knows what a fence is. Their shrieks combine with their footsteps across the hard path in front of her. She looks into the compound and sees two of the two-legged making their way across the middle. Eager images reach her mind from her own pack.
The other packs have seen the two and the primal urge within them takes hold. The first ones across scale the fence with ease but some become entangled in the wire on top. More packs emerge from the trees as the characteristic gunshots don’t materialize. Their hunger overrides fear as they see their fellow packs reach the fence and climb over. She hears howls from the other side of the large lair as others emerge from the trees there. The many packs scale the fence and it topples under their weight. She watches as the two she saw earlier run for the round building. The eagerness from her pack increases.
She isn’t certain of the two she saw. There was something about them that caused an uneasiness in her mind. It’s almost as if she could hear what one was saying. A picture image from the two-legged one almost forms in her mind, as if it just brushed or tickled against it. It gives her a troubled feeling. Her protective nature also holds her. She sits and waits.
Packs stream across the lair and pound into the circular building door where the two ran. Images form of a struggle to open the doors. She rises but still waits. The others with her want to be off to feed but they also have a respect for her; if respect is something they can even feel. She has led them well so they wait with her. She does sense the eagerness and hunger fill them as she rises. They want to be off and they feel her rising is a sign that they can join the multitude already at the doors.
She senses the struggle at the doors is about over. The images are basic ones but the overall tone is that they are about to break in. She trots across the hard trail, enters the lights still shining around the edge, and crosses the downed fence. She is eager herself but knows there is enough inside to feed all of the packs beyond their fill. They’ll get theirs but she is yet cautious. Too many close calls with the two-legged kind have made her this way. She has an inkling of their capabilities. Another quick image brushes against her mind. The image is of someone looking at her own kind. It’s gone as quickly as it arrived; almost as if it weren’t there to begin with. It isn’t an image from any of the packs. It’s different. She slows.
The howls from the horde around the building fill the night air. Eager, hungry. Suddenly, the shrieks change from anticipation to vexation. The ones in front of the building portals, doors, begin pounding on the glass in their frustration. The doors have been shut. She stops. Several break away from the rear to each side of the building. She knows they will search for another way in. Lowering herself to the ground, she sits and waits.
The ones in front continue to hammer the doors while the ones behind press inward. She pats her stomach and watches. She has known a few futile attempts to gain entry into lairs before. Mostly she has been successful at it but there were a few times when she has had to give up and look for food elsewhere. But in those nights of frustration they always found food. That’s why the ones in her pack have remained. Others would have joined but she is not a male.
Shrieks of discovery rise from the far side of the building. She rises. The picture images in her mind tell her another way in has been found. She can’t figure out why the images sent by the others are so, well, primitive. She can send out much more complex “thoughts” that convey so much more but she restricts herself to sending those to only the ones with her. She doesn’t want to draw attention to herself and be swept up and forced into another pack. She rises. They have left her alone and that is good enough for her.
Shrieks on the far side rise and packs peel away from the main doors racing around the side. Those diminished gunshot sounds rise above the tremendous volume of screams periodically. She trots to the side but far away from the main body of packs. A door is opened and pack members stream inside the door. Gunshots meet the screams and images of pain flash through her mind. More enter and more of the same images reach out. She watches and waits.
That primal urge has taken hold of the other packs. Once it lets go it’s hard to turn off. Still, she doesn’t understand how the others can’t see the futility of what they are doing. While they had a chance earlier, it is obvious by the bodies piling up at the door and no apparent gain that any opportunity to get in through this particular place is gone. But the urge is driving the pack. The night air is filled with screams, gunfire, shouts, the smell of blood; the blood of her own kind. Through all of this, the faint scent of the prior explosion drifts into her nostrils from time to time.
Wait, there, just below the surface is another odor. Fresh blood of the two-legged ones. She turns her head from the carnage and rises. Lifting her nose high into the air to catch that elusive scent, she sniffs turning her head to the left and right. Her pack rises with her and sniffs the surrounding night air having caught that faint smell as well. A small eddy of wind, so tiny as to not really be noticed, more a small pocket of air replacing another, brings the scent on it.
With a last look at the bodies piling up and another thought about how the others cannot see the futility of what they are doing, she heads into one of the nearby structures. She opens the door and that scent, once elusive, fills her senses. She knows fresh meat lies within. She raises her head and shrieks loudly. She would like to be the first there and get her fill before letting the others know what lies within but this is also a primal urge, the shriek notifying others of food nearby, and she can’t help herself. This is more deeply ingrained than the urge to attack the two-legged ones. Her scream echoes against the brick walls of the building rising above all of the others.
Silence settles for a moment across the large lair. The others have heard and have seen the images she sent forth. Complex images of available food and futility. She turns to see what remains of the other packs running across the hard trail close by to join her. Turning once again, she enters the building and runs down the long, dark hall lit in shades of gray. She enters the first room. She and her pack are the first ones in. The settle in and begin feeding. The remnants from the packs follow closely and begin feeding in other rooms. The images that are sent to her are reassuring. She has brought them out of danger and to food. They will follow her. She has her fill and leaves the room. Entering the hall and listening to the sounds of feeding mixed with the occasional shriek of satisfaction, she heads toward the entrance doors. Outside, she squats on the hard path leading to the building and looks to the round structure where the two-legged ones are laired. She ponders, in a much different manner than we are accustomed to, the brushes against her mind she felt earlier from one inside. She sits, she watches, she waits.
Are We There Yet?
Entering the gym, I notice our “guests” are crowded into the upper gym. I’m thankful the night runners didn’t get in and that we didn’t have to retreat and defend that high place. I didn’t realize we had brought in so many and that it would be so crowded. It would have been a slaughter as there just isn’t any room to maneuver. The main gym is empty with the exception of Red Team; complete once again.
We gather in the middle of the floor threading our way through the cots and keeping an eye and ear out for additional night runner attempts. The vanishing all at once has me worried. I’ve seen them change tactics too many times in a similar manner — all at once — to believe they would just go away. I hope that’s the case but the occasional muffled shriek from nearby tells me it’s not. They are still around but it’s anyone’s guess as to what they are up to. I have only known them to be relentless and persistent. This vanishing all at once is a new trick but if they’re willing to leave us alone, I am all too willing to let them do just that.
Coming down off the high rush of adrenaline, I suddenly feel very tired and plop down on one of the cots. The hard, wooden floor below is still polished to a sheen but scuff marks mar its once pristine surface. The others sit in a cluster on the cots around. I have two members of Echo keep a watch on the doors. I want us close together because I have no idea just where the night runners will emerge from next and want to be able to respond in force in any direction.
