Rafe wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. You’re making me sound like the other woman. I’ve been on my own for years now, not waiting around for Mack to show up.”
“But you did when you were younger? Wait for him to show up so you two could go off and have fun?”
“Fun? Yeah, that’s life in the Feral Zone. One big septic tank o’ fun. We yuk it up —”
“Please, stop talking.” I swallowed against the ache in my throat.
“I don’t know what’s got you so worked up. Mack loves you more than anything. You’ve got to know that much.”
“I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Okay, if you want to be all tragic, go ahead. Stay here and kick rocks. Me, I’m going in to find Mack … because I’m the good kid.” He hauled open the door.
What I really wanted to kick was him. But I shoved past him and entered the station. Of course I was questioning everything now, trying to fit pieces together. I wasn’t going to apologize for it either. Last night, my reality had been turned upside down and shaken beyond recognition. I just wished that my insides didn’t feel so bruised and broken.
What had been a train station before the exodus was now a marketplace and dining hall. Along the perimeter, food stalls displayed the offerings of the day: plates of grilled meat and glasses of foamy beer. Carcasses hung from iron support beams — turkeys, geese, and chickens — yet the place didn’t reek of blood. The smell was more reminiscent of a summer barbeque. The center area was taken up with various tables and chairs, everything from wooden picnic benches to elegant dining room sets — probably plundered from abandoned homes.
Despite the dirt and debris tracked across the inlaid floor and the somber reason for holding the town meeting, the station didn’t have the desperate or unhappy feel that I’d expected. These people were living in the Feral Zone, and yet as they found seats, they exchanged greetings and words of reassurance with those around them. There was even a sprinkling of laughter as children chased one another, some of whom were manimals. Still, there was a worn, scuffed quality to the adults’ faces. Clearly life within a quarantine compound wasn’t one big campout with sing-alongs and s’mores.
Rafe paused by a food counter piled with smoked meats to survey the area. I looked around too, searching the crowd for the familiar head of wavy dark hair, the wire-rimmed glasses, my heart accelerating with the anticipation of seeing my father’s face. How surprised would he be to see me here? Would he be mad at me? Considering the trouble he was in, me coming to the Feral Zone had to be the least of his worries.
“Hey, Rafe, did you kill it?” a young voice asked.
I turned to see two boys sitting on the other side of the meat counter. They wore baseball caps pulled low, yet not low enough to cover the faint green speckles that ran from their temples to circle their eyes, which made them look moldy. Their vertical pupils were even more disturbing.
Rafe frowned slightly, a pucker between his brows.
“It’s Andrew Lehrer, remember?” said the boy.
“And Avi,” said the other. “You did a job for our grandma last month.”
“No, I didn’t kill the rogue yet,” Rafe said in a flat voice and returned to surveying the crowd. “Mack here?” he asked without glancing back.
“Haven’t seen him.” The boys took me in with curious eyes.
“Thanks,” I murmured to them and hurried to catch up with Rafe, who’d strode off. “You know, you could be nicer when you talk to them…. Manimals.”
“Why? So they think we’re friends?”
“Would that be so awful?”
He shot me a look and leaned against a massive pillar. Then he nodded toward the center staircase. Halfway up the stairs, a middle-aged woman, dark-skinned and curvy, stood alone, looking out at the crowd. Her riot of curls and high cheekbones gave her an exotic look, which was saying something, considering she was dressed like a lumberjack in jeans and a plaid shirt.
“That’s the mayor,” Rafe whispered. “Hagen.”
With a bartender’s apron wrapped around her hips, Hagen wasn’t the western vision of a mayor, but her demeanor was serious enough. “Okay, people,” she said loudly, “I’ll get right to it.” The room grew impressively silent. “Every one of us is torn up about losing Jared, but none more than his family. I know that Ruby and her sons can count on all of us to pick up their work shifts as they navigate their grief.”
People and manimals at the tables nodded, while I continued to scan the crowd for my father. He should have been easy enough to spot in this odd assembly, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
“When we found Jared,” Hagen continued, “the circumstances suggested a feral that’s gone rogue — probably the one that was preying on people in this area two years ago.”
A cry went up from the crowd and hovered over the room like a storm cloud. Hagen lifted a hand, and the voices faded. “I’m sure you’ve all heard by now how Jared died….”
I nudged Rafe. “I don’t think my —”
Rafe put a finger to his lips.
Fine. I’d go look in the back of the station by the food stalls. Maybe my dad was —
“And I’ll confirm it,” Hagen continued. “His heart was ripped out.”
I stopped short with a gasp. Ripped — how was that even possible? When Rafe told me about the rogue, I thought he was just trying to freak me out. What was I doing in a place where people got their hearts ripped out?
“And now a teenage girl has gone missing a mile south of here,” Hagen went on. “I don’t want anyone else disappearing, so I’ve allocated compound resources to offer a reward to the person who brings in the rogue. And thankfully, we have a bunch of hunters and hacks willing to try.” She gestured to a small group of people in the back corner. No surprise that from where I stood they looked like the sketchiest clump of humanity I’d ever seen. I needed to get out of this place ASAP. But my dad wasn’t in the crowd as far as I could tell.
When questions swelled in the room like a roaring wave, the mayor clapped her hands. “One at a time! Leonard, spit it out.” Hagen pointed at a man seated in front.
“Are we going to be stuck inside the compound again? We were holed up for weeks last time,” Leonard said. “We couldn’t trade or hunt. If it’s going to be like that —”
“It’ll be worse,” Rafe said loudly. I slid another foot away from him as the townsfolk twisted in their seats to see who’d spoken.
Leonard scowled at him. “That thing snatched anyone who set foot in the woods and if we were lucky — if — we’d find a heap of bloody clothes days later. How much worse can it get?”
“Two years ago, the feral skimmed the edges of the compounds, grabbing people who were outside the fence. It’s bolder now.” Rafe’s voice easily filled the echoing space.
“How much bolder?” Hagen asked, clearly dreading the answer.
“For the past year it has been going into compounds after dark and dragging people from their beds.”
Gasps and cries rippled through the room and I didn’t blame the crowd one bit. I was verging on hyperventilation myself over that image.
Hagen rubbed a hand over her eyes. “And you have no idea what it is?”
“Nope. Only that it’s strong. A couple of months ago, it hauled a 250-pound man over the Peoria fence.” Rafe’s gaze settled on me. “I do know there’s a guy infected with tiger in the area. I can’t prove it’s him, but that’s where I’m placing my bet.”
“Tiger!” The word cut through the crowd, followed by a horrified silence.
I glared at Rafe. How dare he bring up Chorda when he knew that the tiger-man wasn’t feral based on what I’d told him? Now those hunters would shoot Chorda on sight — no questions asked — because Rafe had just declared it open season on tigers.