“Can I borrow a phone then?” Then realizing I don’t know any phone numbers I could punch in from memory, I ask, “Or could one of you call 9-1-1?”
There’s usually a wolf embedded in every police department. Surely one of them would be able to get me back in contact with the kingdom house.
“No reception,” one of the guys answers, his gun still raised. “That’s why we like coming here to hunt. It’s a chance to get away from the city.”
While violating at least six different conservation and territory laws. But I bite back on my frustration. “Okay then could one of you drive me to the closest police station? I just need to find someone to help me.”
No one answers. No one lowers their guns.
Then someone toward the back of the group asks, “What’s that around your neck?”
I still, a bad feeling coming over me. A really, really bad feeling.
“Looks like one of those biosystem-blocking collars,” another one observes.
The guy who told me there was no reception out here finally lowers his gun. But he has a look on his face…one I’d describe as amusement if it didn’t hit me in the stomach like a gut punch.
“That means she ain’t recording none of this,” he tells the others. “And there’s no way for her to call out.”
That’s when I get it. That I’ve escaped one danger only to run right up to another. And ask it for help.
The biochip age has led to a revolution of sorts. Crime has gone down to almost zero in most states. There’s less sexual harassment, fewer openly racist incidents, and almost zero kidnappings, because would-be-criminals never know who could be recording. These days, crime shows are either historical set pieces or tech mysteries involving cyber law violations I can barely understand.
But before Fensa and I went off to our separate universities, my mother warned us that those were just statistics. “Data only tracks what data can see. Keep your biochip on. Don’t accept drinks from people you don’t know. Guard yourself even among the humans who don’t know you’re both in line to inherit kingdoms. It doesn’t matter that your she-wolves with biosystems, all the same rules for human women still apply.”
I take a step back. Then another. Then I break out running back toward the mountain, doing my best not to trip over the long hem of my gown.
The men quickly give pursuit on foot, like I’m a ten-point buck. I suppose I should be happy they didn’t shoot me like they would have a deer.
But then my wolf reminds me, they’re not shooting because they’re planning to do something worst.
I try to run faster. Normally my wolf speed would be enough to outdistance them. But the baby…it’s heavy in my stomach with no give whatsoever. It feels like I’m trying to run away with a bowling ball underneath my nightgown.
Fear grips my heart. My wolf speed just isn’t enough to outrun their enthusiasm to hurt me. And even a bad-ass like me can’t fight off five humans with guns.
Another statistic pops into my head now. There are almost zero kidnappings these days. But when there are, the bodies of the victims are pretty much never found.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I whisper to my unborn baby. Because I know these horrible humans won’t let us live after they’re done with me.
No, they’ll kill me, then do whatever it takes to make sure I’m never found.
KA-THUNK!
Something lands in front of me, so hard, it makes the ground beneath my feet shake.
Rearing back, I look up, way, way up to see a dragon. So huge and black, that save for its golden eyes, it’s hardly discernable from the night.
One huge claw with razor-sharp talons comes shooting toward me. And the next thing I know I’m being crushed into a soft underbelly of scales. No, not crushed I realize after a few seconds of panic. Hugged.
He’s hugging me to him. Protecting me.
There comes an unearthly noise from above, like a roar and a shriek decided to get together for a death metal concert.
Then the air all around me heats.
And the next thing I hear is the sound of screaming.
I turn my head, the only part of my body I can move underneath the dragon’s tight grip. And immediately wish I hadn’t looked.
The men who were pursuing me are now running around in a panic. Not because they just saw something they thought was only a myth, but because they’re all on fire. Torches dancing to a soundtrack of bloodcurdling screams.
The screaming doesn’t last long though.
I watch their faces melt away like they’re in an Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark reboot. The screams stop when everything capable of emitting sound gets eaten up by the fire. And that fire burns and burns until they’re nothing but five piles of ashes with embers inside.