Sanctuary

Epilogue

He rises as he has on many nights previous. The breathing of his pack within the darkened room fills to his ears, panting with their quickened breathing. He knows instinctually that it’s time to rise; time to hunt.

The past nights have been episodes of the previous ones, searching for the meager food still remaining in the area. The nights recently have taken on some differences. Several times in the night, while running through the night streets, flashes of light reach out from places as they trot by. The flashes startled him and he searched for their sources the first few times it happened but without finding it. Several loud explosions erupt in the distance occasionally. One night, while investigating the source of one of the loud bangs that rang out in the night, he found members of a small pack lying in the street and on the raised concrete sidewalk; their bodies mutilated beyond recognition.

He knew something new was afoot in the area but lacked the cognitive skill to know what it could be; just that it was. He didn’t know if he should be doing something different or if the new sounds or flashes of light were dangerous. Seeing the other pack lying on the ground, he knew that anything that could bring down an entire pack must be dangerous and avoided but he had no idea what it was that did it. Food remained high on his priority list but safety of the pack wasn’t far behind. He did notice the smell of smoke was now predominant in the air making it hard to locate food unless it was close. He once ran across a large area that had been burnt to the ground; the large swath of ash and blackened area stretching far across ahead of him and running out of sight in each direction. He did know, in a way, that the other two-legged ones, possibly the ones the other packs were trying to get at in the large structure a short distance away, were responsible for this.

On this night, as on the others, he makes sure his pack is awake. One male tries to couple with a female as she rises. He grunts, shoulders the male, and sends the image that now is not the time; they must start the night hunt. The other male grunts in frustration but follows him out of the door. They make their way from their lair in back and across the smooth floor. The smells of rot are strong in this large area but he ignores it and makes his way towards the broken door leading outside. Stepping through the broken glass beside the actual doors, the light smell of smoke replaces the stench inside. He stops just outside, hoping for a scent of food close by, and listens. Strangely missing are the shrieks indicating that other packs are still trying to get to the food in the large building a short distance away. His mind momentarily wonders as to the reason why but then is forgotten.

Not smelling any nearby food, he grunts and starts trotting ahead, deciding to start to his right and away from the large enclosure. Too many other packs will congregate there so his best chance of finding food is away from there. A few steps into the parking lot and his world is suddenly and violently intruded upon. A large flash with an accompanying explosion barely registers as he is catapulted forward. He feels himself slam into the ground and all goes dark.

He awakens with a panicked feeling that a lot of time has passed while he has lain in darkness. The fear arises from not knowing what happened; an instinctual feeling of survival. It also comes from not knowing how long he has lain in the darkness and fearing the painful light will be in the sky soon. His head is pounding and he isn’t able to think very well. He reaches out with his mind but can’t sense any others of his pack nearby. He opens his eyes and raises his head. Relief, well, what he feels as relief, enters as he finds it is still night and death from the light in the sky hasn’t found him.

Pushing himself to his knees, he glances around. The other members of his pack lie on the ground around him; lying still; not moving. There is a lingering smell not unlike when the other two-legged ones made those noises with their sticks that caused the death of some of his pack in nights previous. As he looks around, there is a noiseless click in his head. A warm flush rushes through his head. Images and sounds flood through. He grabs his head, not from any pain, but from the multitude of noise that seems to be dancing inside. Another noiseless click and he looks up in wonderment.

He suddenly senses other packs of night runners as they run through the streets and fields. The ability is no longer confined to short distances. He knows he can push and receive the images of their communication over a greater distance. He also has other memories, of before becoming transformed; that’s how he thinks of it, becoming transformed. He looks up at the large, red “S” on the building that he and his pack, or what was his pack, laired in and knows it is a Safeway store. How he knows that now, or rather, how he didn’t before confuses him to an extent. Not all things come back into memory; how to use items and the knowledge of certain things remain hidden. He doesn’t know what a gun is or how to lock or unlock a door but his mind is still flooded with some memories.

He knows they walked into a trap that killed a lot of his pack members. He realizes he has another language in his mind as he gazes up at the Safeway sign above him. The others running in packs won’t know it but he knows, without knowing how he knows it, that the other two-legged ones have this language. He knows he was once one of them. He also knows that part of him is gone. He is now one of the transformed. The name Michael Benson rings in his mind. He knows that name. He knows it is him. He remembers!