Chapter 27 Harb’k

I knew the moment Zoey’s eyes landed on me. I’d watched from the air as she’d hidden under the bright blue tarp. She hadn’t come out of hiding even though all the scourge were gone. Was she hiding from me?

We had decided to finish the fight uncloaked. Mo, the human leader of our group, had insisted on it. He said it was better if everyone in the settlement knew who was coming to help them.

It would also make it abundantly clear if anyone decided to shoot at us instead of at the scourge. It would be harder to claim accidental friendly fire. Luckily, none of the humans had fired at us, even though one of the humans had suggested it openly.

Mo had also insisted on having the human fighters step out of the ships first so the inhabitants of Sanctuary would be less likely to attack. We wanted them to work with us as they would another human group, and to do that, we had to present a human-heavy front.

None of us hunters had minded as long as it meant we could fight the scourge easier. I’d rather focus my energy on these new mutations than fight hostile humans. If pretending that the humans were in charge made it easier for us to do so, then so be it. We understood how important optics could be in swaying human minds.

It was also the reason why Mo waited for Jack and Aaron, representatives from New Franklin and the Rockies, to join him before approaching. They let Aaron lead since he looked the most “American.” I didn’t quite understand it; they all were equally human to me.

A man stepped out. “Nice to finally meet everyone in person.”

That must be Clark. The male had a scatter of gray in his dark hair, a sign he was a bit older, but a fit body showing that he was still in his prime. His hair was cut short and styled neatly. He wore a coat that looked like it had seen better days. I’d expected someone bigger, more powerful to lead all these people. He looked average.

They all shook hands, another human custom I didn’t quite understand.

“I know we technically gave you one more day to make a decision,” Aaron said, “but we saw this group coming your way and had to act. And our schedule has changed. That nest is getting desperate. We need to take it out now, before they get the mutagen out to Dallas or Houston.”

I didn’t miss the way the humans listening reacted to the names of the cities that were now considered Dead Zones. They all knew what had become of their largest cities. Earth’s metropolises, with millions upon millions of unsuspecting souls, had been the ultimate paradise for the scourge. We called them Dead Zones because if you were inside, you were as good as dead. The nests at the center of these cities were massive.

“We would like to use Sanctuary as a launching point due to its proximity to the mutant nest,” Mo explained.

Clark nodded. “We have already made the decision to ally with you and join your fight. And we even put together a Xarc’n-friendly team eager to aid your mission.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. My keen ears caught every disgruntled comment. Not all the inhabitants were in agreement.

“We’re also sending an ambassador to your location,” Clark continued over the grumbling. “She’s just getting her things ready now and will be joining you soon.”

I snorted. I did not want a new female to join us. I wanted Zoey.

Clark cleared his throat and, in a very official tone, introduced his people to Mo from the Great Plains and Aaron from the Rockies. Finally, he said, “And this is Jack from New Franklin. Some of you might recognize his voice.”

Whispers broke out among the people behind him. The fact that Franklin had managed to destroy the nest at the center of their town and had been declared “bug-free” had reached these survivors.

Jack wasn’t Franklin's leader; that job went to Roger, a male who often wore his hair in a style that the humans called a mohawk. Jack was, however, famous for his radio show, Stay Alive. He’d started it while in hiding that first winter, hoping it would reach other survivors. It had. It had also been one of the factors that helped unite the people of New Franklin.

Late last summer, Aanya and Haax’l had fixed the radio towers in this area so that Jack’s show and its reruns could reach other survivors here. Of course, any group associated with hunters already had access since the show was also available through our network. I wondered how many of the survivors had been listening to it. Quite a few by their reactions.

“Of course, we understand your people may not all be in agreement,” Mo continued. “So we brought some gifts as gesture of our good will, and as a thank you for using your courtyard.”

Mo made a gesture, and Heather stepped out of Nov’k’s shuttle. She wore a loose-fitting jacket that hid the slight swell of her belly. How she’d convinced Nov’k to allow her to do this and be a possible target was a mystery. Even now, he hovered behind her and helped her as she opened the shuttle’s external storage and brought out a rolling cage of chickens.

“Heather!” a woman’s voice rang out from the crowd.

She ran toward her friend, but Clark stepped out to intercept her, pulling her back.

The others hadn’t even recognized Heather at first. Perhaps it was because she looked so much healthier now than she had been when she first joined us.

“We are offering a half-dozen laying hens and a rooster,” Mo said.

By now, Aaron had pushed over a wooden vessel. “Homemade mead.”

“How do we know that’s not poisoned?” shouted a female from behind Clark.

Aaron rolled his eyes. He produced a short glass he’d clearly prepared beforehand, filled the glass with liquid from a tap on the vessel, and held it high. Then he chugged it down in one impressive gulp. He loudly placed the glass on the cart holding the barrel and held up a middle finger at the female who’d spoken.

Aaron was a lot less diplomatic than our Mo. He was their group’s Tech Wizard, so it was understandable. Those types were often better with machines than people. Lenny was here as well, but Sam was with Kan’n. We’d decided it wasn’t a good idea for him to return to the place he was kept prisoner for months.

Finally, Jack stepped forward with a fabric sack on his shoulders. “And coffee. We trade for it with another group way down in Peru.”

The talk behind Clark grew louder as more people came out from the buildings to see what was going on. I heard several cries of “Oh my god! Coffee!” from the crowd.

Coffee was the preferred stimulant for most humans on the planet; with it, they could achieve everything. I wasn’t partial to it.

Clark asked for a few moments of privacy and went to converse with several others who’d stayed back by the building. I strained to listen but could not catch their conversation.

“This is very generous,” he said when he returned. “We would have granted use of our courtyard anyway since my sources tell me that this nest is extremely close to us. But we will need to set some guidelines. You will stay in the concrete area of our courtyard and away from our gardens. I won’t have those ships landing on our crops.”

Mo looked around at the concrete area. “That’s fair.”

“Second, you are not bringing any of those mutant bugs inside these walls. If your men are covered in bug guts, they wash up outside first. And our water supply is not a part of the deal.”

“Agreed.” Mo extended a hand.

But someone in the crowd wasn’t so happy about the deal.

“Hell no,” said the male voice. “We can’t work with no monster-lovers. It ain’t right.”

“Yeah!” a female voice cried out. “We can’t trust them. What if they start going around raping all of us? Think about your wives and kids, and…”

There was a cackling laugh followed by a snarky, “You don’t have to worry about that. No one wants to touch you with your personality.”

Things descended into chaos until Clark bellowed so loudly it sounded almost like a Xarc’n roar.

Once everyone quieted, he said, “The nest is a bigger concern. Our own fighters have reported on these mutations. They are most active during dawn and dusk, the only times we have a reprieve from the flyers and darkness. If you want to volunteer to fight the things yourself, be my guest. If you don’t like my decision, feel free to run against me in the next election.”

There was no response.

“Well then,” Jack said in his smooth voice, which I was told was perfect for radio, and offered his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

Clark took it and shook.

I turned my attention back to the tarp, but Zoey and her friend were no longer under it.