Predators of Darkness Series [Books 1-3]

By Leonard D. Hilley II

"Leonard D. Hilley II writes with a dark veracity, giving real life to a world slightly askew. There's always a sense that something is lurking in the shadows, just beyond the 'normal' world."--Paul Counelis, writer for Rue Morgue

"I LOVED THIS!!! I honestly could not believe I have not heard of this before. Actually I can't believe this isn't a movie yet. There seems to be a lot going on, but it actually ties in together so beautifully it nearly brought a tear to my eye. There is so much suspense in this book it might kill you. You honestly will be surprised; every page will leave you with your mouth hanging wide open."-- Amazon Reviewer

The Predators of Darkness Series [Books 1-3]:

Predators of Darkness: Aftermath (Book One)

Fear What Lurks In The Shadows:

The desolate streets of downtown Pittsburgh are a constant reminder of the missile attack that forever changed the lives of the surviving scientists and students hidden in the fallout shelter of Helmsby's Genetic Research Center. Believing themselves to be the only survivors, they station themselves inside the center until food supplies near depletion. Thinking the fallout has lessened, they emerge three years later to discover strange creatures patrolling the streets in search of human flesh and blood. The creatures possess the ability to shift their genomes and alter their appearances by realigning their genetic sequences. Daniel Hutchinson, their leader, teams with Lucas Ridale and together they set out to scavenge the area for food and supplies with the hope to find other survivors. But Daniel's most recent journey uncovers mysteries more frightening than the shifters. He discovers the tip of Pittsburgh has been fenced off from the rest of the area. Low-flying helicopters observe the streets, making him ponder the question: Were the shifters released as simply part of a military experiment with humans being their prey?

Beyond the Darkness: (Book Two)

The Darkness Continues . . .

Three years after Daniel and the other survivors escaped the terrorizing, bloodthirsty shapeshifters in Pittsburgh, his friends have moved forward with their lives, but Daniel cannot. He believes the conspiracies within TransGenCorp have not ended and more shifters exist.

Then Daniel receives a phone call from Lucas that bolsters his paranoia.

Lucas is being charged with murders he insists his clone committed.

Daniel soon discovers darker atrocities are emerging, which not only place his life in immense danger, but all his friends as well.

The Game of Pawns: (Book Three) 

Pawns are Expendable . . .

Twelve execution-style murders have occurred in Newark, New Jersey, in less than a week. Each murder has a calling card - a red pawn on each corpse. Kat Gaddis and Lucian investigate the homicides and discover the last four victims were employed by GenTech, a company that recently merged with Mech Cybernetics. After FBI director Mike Carpenter shares evidence with Kat, they soon discover political ties and corruptions that place Kat's life in direct danger. New players emerge and what seems like serial murders suddenly becomes a struggle for biotech knowledge and power. Kat is thrust into their game - The Game of Pawns.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deimosweb Publishing
• Release date: Nov 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540182173

Leonard D. Hilley II

Leonard D. Hilley II grew up a quiet, shy kid with an inquisitive mind. Learning to read at an early age, he fell in love with books. He read every book he could get his hands on and stacks of dark comics about ghosts, monsters, and creepy things that stalk the night.  Like a lot of boys, he caught beetles, wooly bears, butterflies, and had an ant farm. When he was ten, his interests in science increased even more after seeing a professor's insect collection. Soon he set out on his quest to build his own collection. He also learned to rear butterflies and moths to obtain perfect specimens. He learned botany, gardening, and set his goal to become an entomologist. At eleven, he saw Star Wars at a VIP viewing room in the cinema. His imagination soared. Soon after, he discovered Roger Zelazny's Chronicles of Amber. Six months later he had written the first draft of a novel. A novel he later discarded, but the characters stuck with him. Years later, these characters came to life in Shawndirea, which Hilley had intended to be a novella for Devils Den. The characters, however, refused to be ignored and took the opportunity to unveil Aetheaon in their first epic fantasy. Lady Squire: Dawn's Ascension was quick to follow. Shawndirea was Hilley's farewell to butterfly collecting, and those who have read the novel understand why. He has taken Ray Bradbury's advice to heart: "Follow the characters." He does. He follows, listens, and take notes--often never knowing where they're going to take him, but he's never been disappointed in the results. Hilley earned a B.S. Biology and an MFA in Creative Writing to combine his love of science and writing. Sci-fi Titles: Predators of Darkness: Aftermath, Beyond the Darkness, The Game of Pawns, Death's Valley, The Deimos Virus. Epic Fantasy: Shawndirea: (Aetheaon Chronicles: Book One), Lady Squire (Aetheaon Chronicles: Book Two), and Devils Den. UF/PR: Succubus: Shadows of the Beast (Nocturnal Trinity Series: Book One), Raven (Nocturnal Trinity Series: Book Two), & A Touch of the Familiar (Book 3) YA UF/Paranormal: Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter; Forrest Wollinsky: Blood Mists of London; Forrest Wollinsky: Predestined Crossroads.   

Book preview

One

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Dropping a cat from the top ledge of a ten-story office building was not the best way to remain hidden, but it was necessary.

Daniel Hutchinson assumed the cat was a shape-shifter—one of a thousand sinister prowlers roaming the streets, awaiting the proper moment to attack from his blindside and take him down.

As the cat dropped, its sinews and muscles popped, crackled. Falling, it shifted from its cat form into a hideous creature. The cat seemed to welcome its oncoming fate eagerly and without fear. With forepaws outstretched, it leaned toward the pavement like a high diver straightens to break through the water’s surface. To Daniel’s surprise, the impact against the concrete didn’t kill it. Instead, the cat rolled and pivoted around to face him, altering more and more until it became the terrifying bloodthirsty creature that had followed him the past six days.

The cat’s head twisted, stretched. Its snout elongated. The feline resemblance faded, replaced by a more pointed nose. After its muzzle contorted further, sharp fangs sprouted over its small teeth.

A delighted purr rumbled in its throat as the shifter understood the damage it could inflict should it span the distance between them.

The shifter’s paws swelled, growing larger and wider with thicker claws lengthening outward. Scratching the pavement with a raking swipe, it gazed at him with glowing red eyes while licking its forepaw with menacing mockery.

You are persistent, Daniel whispered, gently searching his pocket for a cigarette. Why are you following me?

The shifter, he feared, would eventually catch him and rip those angry talons into his flesh and kill him, leaving his body an empty shell—useless, lifeless, dead.

The creature waited for him to make an error of judgment that left him vulnerable. The longer Daniel trekked his mission without sleep, the more mistakes he’d possibly make. Yet, he wondered why this shifter pursued him with untiring determination.

Normally, shifters stalked human scavengers less than an hour before abandoning their pursuit, observing more from curiosity than anything else. But this one was different—different because it studied him—his movements, his mannerisms, and mostly, his fear.

A new fear possessed Daniel. The cat shifter had been the first to reach the rooftop. How long before other shifters accomplished the same?

The shifter, disguised as a yellow tabby, had been sitting on the rooftop when he arrived. Friendly in its approach, it mewed and cried, which had struck a nerve in Daniel. This feline was identical to his cat, Morton, but Morton had died during his childhood years ago.

Feeling somewhat disoriented by the sudden rush of past emotions, Daniel rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes, trying to make sense of what he saw. Deep inside, he knew this wasn’t Morton.

The beast offered its ploy—toying with his mind—hoping he’d let down his guard, but he didn’t. No matter how tired and frayed his mind was, he saw through the beast’s weak imitation of Morton.

When he had called the cat, it pranced eagerly to him and leapt into his arms. He stroked the cat’s neck for several seconds, satiating the creature’s guise, before suddenly tossing it over the ledge to prevent it from attacking him. Such was not a difficult undertaking for someone who’d allowed his emotions to completely shut down so he didn’t have to cope with the depression of his present reality.

His true fear resided with the fact that shifters didn’t die easily. Even though the shifter cat had fallen ten stories, it simply brushed itself off uninjured and observed him without fear. Daniel’s solid, six-foot-two, muscled frame didn’t provide any advantage over shifters’ shrewd intellectual assaults.

Intellectual. The shifters possessed great intellect and this troubled him. Recent shifter dissections had shown evolutionary advancements within their brain structures. Their brains were becoming more developed, like humans. This discovery made Daniel and Dr. Helmsby wonder if shifters were capable of incorporating human genome into their own, thus granting them a more advanced intelligence.

Unlike other predatory animals, shifters set ambushes. They baited traps to snare humans, and in desperate circumstances, other shifters. Using tattered pieces of clothing and mannequin parts, they constructed decoys in dark alleys to lure humans from the safety of the rooftops.

This trickery Daniel had learned early on. If no reply came when he called to a decoy, he allowed no further investigation. It was a game of hunter versus prey. He wasn’t sure which he considered himself.

Hunter or prey?

A cold breeze flowed around him, blowing his long, braided blonde hair in riveting waves. His piercing eyes, blue like shimmering ice, studied the streets. Uneasiness welled inside him while he watched the dumpsters. His catlike nemesis was no longer alone.

The clouded skies were lightless, and the streets, darker. Without electricity, the alleys and streets were dens of ominous macabre devastation.

As the mist of evening settled, forming a thin layer of fog, all that penetrated the haze were the bodiless, violent eyes.

Illuminating eyes. Eyes filled with lunacy that continually haunted him. They dared him to enter their shadowed domain.

True darkness only came when the creatures blinked in unison. Soon, though, as nightfall settled and the barometric pressure dropped, the mist would grow into a soupy thickness obscuring the brightness of their eyes and burying their gaze in impenetrable darkness.

During the past few months, the mists had grown worse and showed no sign of relenting or receding. The downtown area that once thrived industrially was now smothered by continual dusk. Daniel wondered if the shifters could see him even when the fog blocked them from his view.

Dressed in a tattered leather jacket, Daniel patted the jagged blade that hung from his belt. The action was more a taunting gesture to the shifters than for his self-assurance. Formed from scrap metal beaten into a sword-like tool with sharp flat edges, the blade gashed through a shifter’s pelt in one quick stroke.

Below, the red-eyed shifter hissed and recoiled, disappearing into the crowded darkness of the alley where its green-eyed companions waited.

Although Daniel occasionally carried a 9mm, the weapon didn’t offer the protection he needed to survive. Bullets left clean wounds that didn’t stop shifters during their attacks. Their unique metabolisms allowed quick recovery. Bullet wounds stitched together in seconds. A bullet only successfully stopped a shifter when it exploded inside its brain, but few human survivors had the marksmanship skills capable to achieve such a goal.

Shotguns worked more effectively than handguns. The scattering pellets ripped and shredded tissue into large, gaping wounds, preventing vital organs and appendages from regenerating rapidly. But shotguns were also awkward to carry. In the heat of an ambush, reloading took too much valuable time. In such confrontations, blades proved superior because they could lop appendages from the torso and slow a shifter’s advance.

If maimed shifters escaped combat, they could—over several weeks of recovery—regenerate lost limbs. Decapitation was the quickest way to kill the creatures. This required accuracy and precision during an oncoming attack as well as a strong stomach.

One scavenging trip still haunted Daniel.

On that day, he led a group of men out on a similar dark night to find supplies. Even with flashlights, a gloomy void enveloped them. Shadows swayed as they pointed their lights along warehouse shelves and crates. Each dreaded step forward brought more intense fear. At any moment the light might greet the glowing eyes of a hungry shifter. Moving shadows meant something lurked in the darkness.

The men had hoped to find food inside the grocery warehouse, but the loading docks were empty. The cleared stockroom caused them to entertain the idea that survivors had moved the supplies to their offices where they holed up. However, what they discovered cost three men their lives.

After moving through the dark, empty warehouse, Daniel led his men down a dusty corridor. Desks, lamps, and office equipment blocked most of the hall, making their advancement slow and difficult.

You really think people live here? one man asked, readying his hand on the hilt of his blade.

Daniel shrugged. I hope so.

Pushing forward, silent in word, careful in step, they worked their way to the first closed door and found it locked. Thick grime covered both sides of the window, preventing Daniel from peering through even after wiping his side clean. He knocked, thinking someone might answer.

No one opened the door.

He knocked again and the heavy thudding parroted down the hall. At the far end of the corridor, soft whispering rose.

Daniel flung his light in the direction of the noise. Nothing moved. He stepped closer, slowly and quietly.

The sound came again, but this time from behind. Daniel swung the light around to strewn furniture, but everything remained still.

He read the fear on his men’s faces as the light washed across them. Each man gripped his blade tightly.

Something scuttled across the tile floor. Daniel turned. He and his men drew their weapons.

Nothing.

Daniel stepped in the direction of the sound and his attention was suddenly drawn to the door at the end of the hall. He stepped closer, a lump rising in his throat. With his peripheral vision he checked for movement along the floor as he focused on the door.

He reached for the doorknob. Papers rustled on the other side. Whatever was in the room knew their exact location. He figured it best to confront than retreat and be attacked while fleeing. He no longer expected to find survivors. What waited inside the room was dangerous and definitely not human.

Daniel suffered regret because of the events that transpired next. He vowed never to take others into the streets except Lucas.

The shifter attack had been unexpected, unforeseen, and had they not had their blades already drawn and shotguns poised as he shoved open the door, none of them would have survived.

The soured aroma of urine and fecal matter spilled into the hall, forcing them to pull their shirts over their mouths and noses. Two men shone their flashlights into the room. The office floor was cluttered with soiled paper documents, an overturned desk, and several chairs. Cotton stuffing spilled from slits in the cushions.

Daniel scanned the room, but he didn’t see any living creature. Relieved, he and the others lowered their blades. During that split second of false comfort a shifter charged.

From behind the overturned desk, a female shifter as large as a German shepherd lunged into the air. She hurled herself at Daniel. He brought up his blade, but the shifter didn’t waver. Her maternal instincts to protect her offspring wrought vicious snarls.

She thrust her weight into her springing leap. Daniel braced himself, pivoted his left shoulder slightly back, and plunged the blade into her soft midsection as she descended. The blade struck inches below her ribcage. Her abdominal wall split open and her entrails spilled sloppily onto the floor with a sickening splatter.

She scowled, pawed the floor, but was unable to stand. Lying on her side, she spat when Daniel approached. Gurgling sounds drowned her angered growls. She swiped harmlessly into the air. Her battle was over. Daniel stepped closer. Her paws slipped on the floor as she fought to pull herself to all fours. He thrust the blade through her skull, twisted, and ended her suffering.

The deafening sound of a shotgun blast turned Daniel’s attention. One of his men dropped a second shifter as it sprang forward to attack Daniel from behind. Shotgun pellets ripped open her right shoulder, knocking her off balance, but didn’t kill her.

She scurried on three legs and slid behind the desk. A second blast echoed. Her hindquarters flung upward, propelling her into a somersault, and slamming her limp body against the wall.

Dazed, she shook her head. Her maddened green eyes narrowed. Foam dripped from the sides of her mouth. Her mangled legs writhed. Daniel rushed toward her. She hissed and growled. Rows of teeth sprouted. Her black gums bled as her body attempted to change.

Her litter flocked to her teats.

Daniel brought his blade above his head, but when he saw the cubs, he hesitated. They seemed so innocent.

Her fractured, twisted legs were healing. The tattered wounds along the cat’s spine were knitting together. Within minutes, her lesser injuries recovered. If he didn’t kill her quickly, she’d gain enough strength to attack again.

The cubs nuzzled her milk sacs, fighting amongst themselves for food while she gasped for breath. Oblivious of her litter, her anger focused on Daniel and his men.

Her bleeding wounds stopped oozing. The gaps in her regenerating flesh meshed neatly together. As the superficial slits vanished, the healing tissues forced the lead pellets to the skin’s surface and rejected them. The bones in her legs weren’t straightening as they mended. They were hardening in their crumpled, twisted positions. If he spared her, she’d be handicapped and never have the swiftness she once possessed, but she still remained a threat.

Daniel moved closer. She thrashed her legs in a desperate attempt to stand. Her scrambling legs slung her cubs across the floor. Their mewing distracted her. She turned in response to their distressed cries.

He swung his blade overhead and downward in a solid strike at the base of her skull. Her head popped from her shoulders and blood spray shot in a long stream. A crimson pool spilled beneath her body. Muscles twitched involuntarily.

Daniel wiped sweat from his brow. Staring at the cubs, he sighed and his shoulders slumped. The worst task was killing the cubs.

The men took no pride in destroying shifter whelps. The horrible process was equivalent to killing harmless kittens or pups; but in time, the helpless creatures matured into predatory stalkers that took no remorse for killing those who had previously spared them.

Shuddering from the memory of slaying whining shifter cubs, Daniel wanted to forget about the three men who died after they left the warehouse. The scent of shifter blood had drifted through the thick fog and attracted angered allies. Although they had won a small battle, they were losing the genetic war.

He stared into the coagulating fog, hoping to find the red-eyed shifter again, but it had disappeared.

Averting his attention from the dumpsters, Daniel evaluated his next move. The streets weren’t an option, not even with the protection of his blade. Darkness and hundreds of hungry shifters preyed on the decaying city.

Helmsby’s Research Center: Higher Rooftop

Randy Collins stood watch with his blade in hand. He scoured the streets, eagerly watching and waiting for Daniel to return.

Nervously, he paced back and forth. At five-foot-eight, one hundred sixty pounds, he hardly fit the criteria for guard duty, especially when predators as treacherous as the shifters prowled the streets, which was why he guarded the roof and not the ground floor entrance.

Recent shifter dissections hadn’t shown any signs that their metamorphosing abilities allowed them to extend wings. However, as rapidly as shifters manipulated their genomes by incorporating DNA from other animals, Dr. Helmsby and Daniel understood evolution for wings was inevitable.

Birds didn’t possess any radical changes in their genomes. Helmsby ran DNA electrophoresis tests on freshly killed pigeons to ensure their genomes were untainted before allowing anyone to consume the meat.

Being on the roof, however, didn’t ease Randy’s emotional discomfort or alleviate his anxiety. Three days earlier, Vicki had been murdered in her room inside the research center. Everyone was alarmed and on edge. Rumors spread that the intruder was a shifter. Frightened occupants made accusations that someone wasn’t guarding his post effectively and all fingers pointed at Randy.

But Randy knew the killer wasn’t a shifter. In fact, he knew who had murdered Vicki.

Randy needed to talk to Daniel the moment he arrived. Daniel needed to know about the murder. About the murderer.

He wasn’t sure how Daniel might react once he told Daniel who the killer was. The man was Daniel’s closest friend—a man everyone trusted and loved—and quite possibly, Daniel wouldn’t believe him.

Frustrated, Randy sighed and said, Where the hell are you? he asked, searching the streets.

Wings fluttered in the foggy sky. A sudden pain-filled shriek echoed, forcing the birds to circle back. Chills ran down his arms and back. The surge of fear felt like an icy spike had been hammered into his spine. He hugged himself to thwart the cold fear settling upon him.

Randy recognized the sound of pigeons seeking a place to roost, but a stranger sound pierced the veiled night. He didn’t know what had made it.

Blade held tightly, he frowned and peered into the darkness; afraid to see what was coming, but more afraid of not knowing what it was.

Realizing his actions, he laughed. He shouldn’t be so jittery. He was on the roof, for God’s sake, but had he known about the cat’s success to reach the rooftop, he’d have been more concerned.

While Randy guarded the roof where he was unlikely to ever encounter shifters, two men guarded the only ground floor entrance. The rest of the outer doors had been welded shut. All windows on the lower three floors had been sealed with sheathing boards and cement blocks.

Randy studied the thick power line cables to see if Daniel was crossing.

A cold hand touched the back of his arm. He swung around with his blade raised and ready to strike.

Randy! she said. It’s me!

Randy gasped and lowered the blade with a shaky hand. His wide eyes peered into hers as recognition tried to calm him. He took a sharp breath and exhaled. Finally, he said in a near whisper, "Maria, you scared the hell out of me. Oh God, I almost killed you. Please . . . always announce yourself."

She smiled and the fear melted from his eyes.

I’m sorry, she said.

He shivered.

You’re still troubled over Vicki’s murder? she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Of course I am. He pulled away and looked back down at the streets. Several pairs of glowing eyes moved through the alley. Damn shifters are patrolling in larger numbers tonight. I don’t think Daniel and Lucas will return this time.

Maria looked where he pointed. One, two, three sets of eyes.

They’ll be back, she said, reassuring herself more than him. They’ve weathered the streets and know how to avoid shifters.

Randy shrugged. I wish Daniel would hurry then. He needs to know.

She gave a sideway glance. About Vicki?

Yes.

You have any suspicions about who killed her?

Oh, I have more than suspicions, he replied.

Maria’s eyes widened. "You know who did this?"

Yes.

Who?

Randy shook his head and walked away. No. I tell Daniel first.

Why can’t you tell me?

I will, but not before I tell him.

Maria frowned, grabbed his arm, and spun him toward her. You don’t trust me? You can’t confide in me?

Maria . . .

This is an urgent matter. We all live in danger if this killer is still in the research center. Besides, I’m carrying our baby. That should be enough to let me know who to avoid.

I don’t think you’re in any danger.

How can you be so certain?

Randy shrugged. "I must tell Daniel first. He’s our leader. Everyone else blames me for letting a shifter get inside the research center. I assure you nothing came through this door. Nothing."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips softly. I know. They just want someone to blame.

Why do they always blame me when things go wrong?

I don’t know.

Sure you do. It’s because I’m not a scientist like most of the others. I was a custodian before I got trapped in this hellhole. They think I’m an idiot.

Randy, Maria whispered in her Hispanic accent. You’re not an idiot.

"They believe I am."

So they’re not as smart as they think.

He turned away.

How do you know who killed her? she asked.

I saw him leave her room, okay?

"Please tell me who this is. Please?"

Randy rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. I want to tell you, but I can’t. Not yet. I want to see Daniel’s reaction and what he plans to do. It’s his job. His duty. Besides, it’s safer if you don’t know who did it.

"How can you say that? How could it possibly be safer for me not to know? Huh?"

Because he’ll become more dangerous if people act suspicious around him. If he suspects anyone knows, he might kill again.

But he may anyway, Randy. That’s why I need to know. For our baby.

Randy held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Trust me, please? I know what I’m doing. It’s been six days. Daniel’s due to be here tonight. If he doesn’t, I’ll tell you then. Okay?

Maria pouted her lips and turned away.

She looked lovelier than when they first met in the fallout shelter. Her petite figure, dark eyes, and thick black hair caught his attention immediately. Always nervous around beautiful women, he had somehow found the courage to speak to her. After hours of conversation, they had fallen for one another.

But now, her rounded figure and glowing smile made her more beautiful than ever. The thought of being a father inspired him to be a better person and work harder. Her pregnancy was another reason Daniel placed his guard duty on the rooftop. He didn’t want Randy placed into any detrimental situation. Their baby deserved to have a mother and father.

Maria had been a sophomore majoring in biology when their world was dramatically altered by the missile attack. She wanted to secure a job as a wildlife manager for endangered animals after she graduated and later become a veterinarian. Now, the only aspiration she held was their baby being born healthy and having enough food and clothing.

Randy had never finished high school, never served in the military, and never worked a job that required him to read. Having chronic dyslexia, which was never discovered by his pediatricians, Randy was considered a rebellious, problem child with no goals or expectations. Some teachers believed he had ADD and was too hyperactive to learn how to read. In secret, he grew up fearing the jumbled letters on the page.

His frustration slowly built into a rage—a hatred for books. When he attempted to learn simple words, like STOP, the letters shifted each time he looked at them—SPTO, SPOT, or SOTP—so he gave up. Reading was useless. At sixteen years of age, he dropped out of school, ran away, and worked menial jobs to buy food and clothing.

Randy’s hatred for books made him despise those who could read. His custodian job was the best paying job he’d ever secured. He received state benefits and a better than average salary. Although his job didn’t require him to read in order to clean, sweep, and mop, people carrying armloads of books constantly bombarded him. Everywhere he turned, students read books at tables near the trashcans he emptied, outside classroom doors, and even on the steps of the building. Books were everywhere. His anger boiled.

Until he met Maria.

Maria dissolved his hatred for books during the first year they lived in the fallout shelter. She read her environmental textbooks to him. He listened like a small child, feasting on new words as if his mind was an absorbent sponge and the words, an ocean. When he saw a picture that intrigued him, he asked about it. She eagerly read the caption beneath it. She never made him feel inadequate or stupid. She loved reading aloud while he rested his head on her lap.

I’m sorry I snapped at you, Randy said. But you really are safer not knowing.

Her pout broke into a small smile. I hope that you’re right. Everyone is on edge not knowing who the murderer is.

I know.

Maria rubbed her stomach.

A smile creased his face. Kneeling beside her, he whispered to her swollen stomach. How are things in there, kiddo? he asked.

Maria shook her head, gently taking his hands and placing them on her stomach. It won’t be much longer and we’ll be holding him. I began having contractions a few hours ago.

Far apart?

About twenty minutes apart, so nothing urgent.

He smiled, stood, and kissed her. She took his hand and led him to the roof entrance door.

I brought you food, she said, pointing at the tray on a small table.

Randy sat on a metal foldout chair. With a plastic fork, he stirred the food, hoping to make the cold beef stew look more appealing. It didn’t help.

Maria said, No signs of Daniel or Lucas in the distance?

No, not yet.

Sometimes, doesn’t one of them yell out to let you know they are near?

Randy nodded. Usually. Or I hear a pack of snarling shifters. Nothing. But I really expected Daniel to be back by now. His routine is fairly predictable. Six days out and he’s back.

Their delay could be good news. They might have found food and survivors. If so, that would slow their progress.

True. Randy nodded. Or they’re both dead.

Appalled, she frowned and said, Randy! How could you say that?

He shrugged, chewed his beef stew, and then said, It’s not impossible, you know. We’ve lost so many people during these explorations. That’s why they’re the only two left scavenging.

Try to be more optimistic, please. Things are depressing enough. They’re our last hope.

I know, but I’m also a realist. I look at things the way they are. Sugarcoating doesn’t make anything better. If something did happen to them, we don’t have anyone to replace them. Daniel and Lucas know which buildings and streets they’ve searched. Starting fresh with untrained scavengers, we’d be hard-pressed to succeed. God knows if something terrible occurs, it’d be weeks before we accepted the fact they aren’t coming back. By then, we’d be too weak from hunger to scavenge anyway.

Tears streaked her round cheeks. How long can we survive like this? Are we doing the right thing by having this baby?

"Are you serious? Of course we are."

With the odds stacked against us, and the shifters taking over the world, are you sure?

Randy stood and wrapped his arms around her. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have rambled on like that. This baby is ours. We should have some pleasure in life. This little guy will change our lives.

Kissing her again, he pulled back and stared into her beautiful brown eyes that were wet with tears.

But . . . she said.

A strange shrill silenced her. The high-pitched sound hurt her ears.

Brrriiiieeeezzz.

What is that? she asked.

Randy looked up. A frightened expression crossed his face. I don’t know. I heard it earlier. Listen.

Eerie quietness loomed for several minutes, and then the shrill broke the still night again. Randy took Maria’s hand and pulled her toward the door. He believed if they hurried, they’d have time to escape, but he underestimated how swiftly the creature moved.

Two

Daniel looked west, past the rivers, toward the abandoned coal mines. The repulsive smell of sulfur hung on the night air. Fires smoldered somewhere in the distance. He wondered exactly what had taken place inside there.

Before the nuclear missile attack, a private bioengineering company, TransGenCorp, had purchased the mines. What they manufactured remained a mystery to Daniel and Dr. Helmsby.

TransGenCorp was stationed inside the mountainside that had been hollowed out nearly a century before. Access into TransGenCorp was through a tightly guarded security checkpoint. Armed guards stood posted at the gate. Rolls of razor wire topped the ten-foot high fences.

Although the operation was a private industry, Daniel believed TransGenCorp was funded by a military branch for scientific research and undisclosed experimentation. He wasn’t the only suspicious person. Others had questioned the ethics of TransGenCorp and demanded to know what experiments occurred inside.

The media fought to gain information but access was denied at every angle they pursued. Even the high courts blocked any legal suits for information. The courts reported that TransGenCorp operated legally and poised no environmental threat in their manufacturing processes, but the exact nature of the industry was never made public. Daniel had no doubt a powerful, corrupt individual had influenced judicial outcomes, either with bribery or unethical threats.

The rulings didn’t lessen the media’s aspiration to tarnish TransGenCorp by publicizing false reports against the company but never offered any conclusive proof for their accusations, either. The media garnered scrutiny, and the public outcry was that such a secretive administration wasn’t beneficial to Pittsburgh.

Six months of accusations dissipated when several aggressive reporters with phony I.D. badges passed themselves off as workers through the security gates. Although they gained entrance into TransGenCorp, these reporters never left the corporation nor were they ever seen again. Afterwards, the news media grew strangely silent.

Such secrecy meant something dangerous was being hidden from the public. Daniel relayed his thoughts to Dr. Helmsby, but Helmsby shrugged it off.

Even now, the fires continued burning inside or near the mountain headquarters. It wasn’t hard to imagine that TransGenCorp had been the target of the missiles. He often considered crossing the river to see the remnants of the company, but he couldn’t spare time from his more important obligations—finding food and supplies.

The need to find untouched food warehouses remained his top priority, but he wondered if TransGenCorp was still operational. And if so, how were they adapting?

Nothing stirred below on the streets as best he could tell due to the rolling sheet of fog. Though unseen, he knew dozens of shifters watched him. Their eyes burned with hatred and hungered desire. Chills ran through him as the icy wind blew harsher.

Trash and skeletal remains littered the streets, when visible, and when shrouded, the hungry cries of the shifters wailed. The trashed streets reminded him of pictures in his college English literature books. Those pictures painted by renaissance starving artists depicting the filth and horrors of the Black Death were reincarnated right before him. Compared with the unnatural predatory shifters, the plague was mundane. The fate of those who contracted the plague had been known but living with the threat of shifters remained unpredictable, as did one’s longevity. No one knew if the next step or breath would be his last.

The horrid painting of Death combing the streets with his sickle of disease was not much different than what awaited anyone who ventured from the rooftops to the streets. The prowling beasts enlarged the survivors’ fears. Human competition for survival was poorly matched against the shifters’ ability to adapt to their new environment.

Daniel lit a crumpled cigarette. Nearly three years had passed since the nuclear missiles had struck the edge of their college campus. The attack had occurred quickly and with hardly any warning, but the reason for the attack remained unclear. Daniel, along with a band of scientists and students, had scrambled to the basement shelter beneath Helmsby’s Genetic Research Center, which was founded by Dr. Bob Helmsby, a genetics genius.

Before the missile strike, nothing like the shifters existed in the environment or genetic laboratories, although the ability to clone animals and humans had advanced greatly. Government bans prohibited further probing into cloning technology to spawn superhuman creations. Scientists protested the stipulations, but government officials argued the prodigy might eventually dominate the creators.

These moral laws didn’t guarantee that scientists wouldn’t resort to underground experimentation. The shifters, Daniel believed, were TransGenCorp’s secretive underground creations.

The majority of surviving biologists at Helmsby’s Research Center believed the shifters emerged after the fallout contaminated the genomes of various domesticated animals and general wildlife.

Although Dr. Helmsby continued his research, he still had not discovered the link that allowed mammalians the dramatic alterations to shift into more dangerous creatures when threatened. For shifters to have evolved somatically, the process needed hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Such evolutionary processes didn’t occur in two to four years. Whatever caused the active mutations had also given these menacing predators a violent, ravenous need to kill humans and devour their flesh.

A harsh yelp broke the silence in the street below. The red-eyed shifter’s eyes glowed and focused on him. Green-eyed shifters howled and backed away from the red-eyed cat with incredible fear.

Daniel decided to hurry back to the research center. He had delayed returning because he didn’t want the perceptive cat shifter to know where he and the other twenty-six survivors resided. He had hoped to discover its intention and why it was different than other shifters. For some reason, he had been unable to lose the cat. The cat had a keener intellect than those with green eyes.

He needed to forget about the cat and tend to his friends’ demands. They needed his guidance and encouragement. He hoped Lucas had not failed in his search for food and supplies.

Growls and guttural cries echoed in the dark alley. Several shifters battled for food but the cat had no interest in their squabble. It kept its attention focused on Daniel.

Daniel knew not to venture into the streets after the fog settled. Such an action was deadly, suicidal.

He remembered the occasions when they had gone in groups to find grocery warehouses. He recalled their cries of agony as his friends were ripped to shreds in the darkness when their urge to find food overcame their trepidation. No longer did man reign at the top of the food chain. They were now the prey.

Remaining on the rooftops was what had enabled them to survive over three years. They had unraveled spools of thick electrical cable to form a network of lines from one building to the next so they could stay off the streets. It was the safest way to avoid the streets. He’d rather fall several stories to his death than be ripped apart by the bloodthirsty shifters.

Gripping the thick electrical cable, he gave a stern tug to check the strength of the knot. Satisfied that it was able to support him, Daniel focused on the building across the street. Hand over hand; he slowly and strenuously pulled himself across.

***

The strange shrill pierced the night. The reverberating, deafening cry made Randy shake his head. Before the ringing ceased, it screeched again.

Louder.

Hungrier.

Closer.

Randy took Maria’s arm and turned her toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, he pulled his blade.

What are you doing? she asked.

Get inside where it’s safe. Hurry.

Maria shook her head. I’m not leaving you out here alone.

Go inside. You have to think about our baby.

She grabbed his arm. I also have to think about you.

The shrill cried out again.

Closer.

Maria, get inside now!

A creature swooped between them so swiftly neither knew exactly what it was, but the hideous, beakless face wasn’t that of a bird or a bat.

What the hell? Randy said, frantically looking around. Where’d it go?

Come inside, Randy. Don’t stay out here. We’ll get help to kill it.

No. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. Get inside.

Not without you.

Hurry! Get inside.

Maria hesitated. Vicki’s murderer is in there. I don’t know who to trust.

He stared at her for several seconds. Sweat cropped his brow. She was right. Only he knew who the killer was. Since she was pregnant, he didn’t believe the man would harm her. He gently pushed her closer to the door. She was still safer inside than outside with him.

Randy, don’t stay out here.

Don’t you understand? he said. I can’t leave my post. This is my assigned position. My obligation is to protect you and the others. I cannot let anything get through this door. They already claim I let in what killed Vicki.

They’re wrong, Randy. Vicki’s death wasn’t your fault. I’ll defend you in that. It’s not your fault.

Randy forced a smile. I know you would. If I cower now, they’ll always believe it was. I have to prove myself to them.

Red eyes hovered in the darkness. The wings hummed. It moved higher, out of view, darting swiftly like a hummingbird into the fog. Though hidden, it had not gone far. Its beating wings were still audible.

Hurry, he said.

Maria took a step toward the door, stopped, and looked back. The humming buzzed louder, faster. One wing brushed Randy’s face as it swooped past.

Maria, get down!

She crouched and put her hands over her face but not fast enough. The shifter flung its talons, but instead of striking flesh, its claws entangled in her thick black hair.

Get it off! she cried. Swinging her head from side to side, she tried to dislodge it. Get the damn thing off!

Randy grabbed at the creature but it ripped a thick strand of hair from her scalp and took to flight. She fell to her knees, sobbing. He knelt beside her, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head.

Are you okay? he asked. Did it hurt you?

I don’t think so. Is it gone?

Staring into the surrounding darkness, he said, I hope so. Maybe we scared it as much as it scared us.

I doubt that, Randy. It will come back. Please, let’s get inside.

Randy looked into her teary eyes and nodded.

Okay, he whispered.

He reached for the doorknob, and the flying creature dove between them. Maria screamed. After it flew upward and turned sharply, it hovered for a moment; its red eyes stared into his. A lump formed in his throat. He jerked open the door and started inside with Maria. But at the last second, he gently pushed her forward, slammed the door, and pulled his blade.

The flying beast descended in a quick swoop.

Maria screamed.

Randy swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and mumbled a short prayer.

***

Daniel’s six days of exploration in Pittsburgh’s northeastern sector had ended without success. Even empty-handed, the others needed him. He was their leader.

Knowing the trip had a ninety percent chance of failure Daniel had gone anyway. He needed time away from the stir-crazy atmosphere looming inside the research center, so he could sort through his emotional losses and recover some of the sanity he had lost over the past three years.

This new world only offered continuous disarray. Stability no longer existed. He couldn’t retreat to a quiet place and escape the hostility of the surviving world and its new creatures. But he had, on this trip, uncovered the most important discovery he had yet made. Disclosing the information proved to be as dangerous as keeping it secret. He didn’t want to tell anyone, not even Helmsby, until he had a chance to evaluate it more closely. That was one burden of being the man in charge.

Being a leader also brought Daniel more problems. Always resilient after traumatic situations, he found himself stifled when he needed to make quick decisions. The unbearable pressures made him want to abdicate his leadership and find a new isolated niche where his decisions affected only him. Deep inside, however, he knew no one else could protect them better than he could. He wasn’t the only person with military experience, but he did have prowess with guerrilla tactics and strategies, which aided him while he scavenged through the rubble of vacated buildings.

Even with these attributes, he felt like a failure. Shifters had killed more than half their original number, and yet, the survivors continued to look to him for guidance. Had they known he only enlisted in the military to gain GI benefits, they might have chosen another leader.

Having leadership authority was a damn strange predicament for Daniel. He had never led anything, and he doubted daily that he could effectively lead these people. In the military, he had to follow orders, not give them, and truthfully, he’d rather follow than lead.

As a teenager, he had obsessed in reading classic reprints of Batman comics. He wanted to be like the Dark Knight—strong, unafraid, and courageous. He wanted to be a hero of the night, protecting those who depended upon him. He wanted to be superior and afraid to run away. But he understood the worst things happened at night in the depths of darkness where no one can see. Unspeakable things. Things no one ever wanted to discuss. And those things terrified him.

Daniel knew one trait that provided him the ability to survive. Wit. Something he didn’t lack, but something he found difficult to retrieve whenever he faced danger.

Shifters had attacked him more than his fair share. They dominated his imagination, his dreams, and they were the demons plaguing his nightmares. Subconsciously, they did more damage than they ever had during physical confrontations. His nightmares fed his growing paranoia and made him believe they stalked him within every passing shadow, and within every hidden recess in the alleys.

A greater peril than shifters threatened the inhabitants of the research center. Hunger. His colleagues faced the grimmer likelihood of starving to death than dying from shifter attacks. Either way, the shifters held the victory. Daniel ached with shame. Again he had failed to bring back food, and if they died, their deaths were on him.

Lucas was their last hope. He had traveled southwest, and Daniel hoped his friend had found enough food to get them through the next few days. Lately Lucas seemed to have better luck finding provisions. He had brought back luxurious foods and chocolates. His great pillaging successes made Daniel envious, if not sorely suspicious. His friend knew more than he was willing to share, and often Daniel believed Lucas had found a warehouse brimming with abundant supplies and told no one else in order to stroke his massive ego. The women certainly praised him, endlessly, and some intimately, for the items he brought them.

Scavenging was no longer a prosperous venture like it had once been. After they first left the fallout shelter, they had the liberty to take anything from local stores—liquors, drugs, canned goods, cigarettes, and clothing. Many overindulged, and supplies vanished quickly, forcing them to search farther from their refuge.

Strangely, the further they traveled, the fewer goods they found. Someone had cleared and looted all the larger stockrooms and warehouses. Thorough investigations revealed none of the buildings held occupants, recently or previously. Streets and houses were desolate. An uneasy calm possessed the fog-covered structures. Someone studied them while they passed through the deserted area. The eerie feeling of being watched encouraged them to leave quickly. They never explored those areas again. No curiosity outweighed the fear of death that lingered there.

Without the hope of finding new sources of stored goods in the abandoned ruins, Daniel understood why the buildings were empty. After his discovery on the edge of Pittsburgh, he had no doubt what had happened. He just didn’t know why.

The dusty remains of a silenced civilization rested on the streets below. Even with the new knowledge he possessed, he still hoped to turn a corner, enter a building, and find himself face-to-face with another human. Such optimism kept him searching, scrutinizing. In his present state of mind, what he truly desired was food, sex, and sleep—the necessities he treasured in an ever-maddening terrain surrounding him.

The closest Daniel had come to finding another survivor was when he came upon a corpse. Her shredded bloodstained blouse clung to her empty ribcage and his heart sank. Had he been there a day before, he might have been able to save her before the shifters killed her. He opened the leather bag that lay near her body and pulled out her driver’s license.

Sad, he said, remembering her photo. You were so beautiful. I wish I had been able to save you.

Daniel crushed the cigarette butt on the roof and looked to the shadows below. The red-eyed shifter licked its forepaw. Its attention was intent on him as if pondering what his next move might be.

Daniel looked around the rooftop. He wanted to cross the street without the cat shifter following. Running across the roof, he stopped on the opposite side and looked down. As best he could see, no shifters prowled in this alley, but the streets were darker, so there was the chance more were here than out in the open street.

He reached for the electrical line, and the red-eyed shifter appeared below.

What the hell? How’d you know? Daniel said.

He had hoped to lose the shifter, but since it seemed determined to follow, he abandoned the idea of crossing at this point.

Heading across the middle of the roof, he startled a flock of pigeons. They burst into flight. Their frightened shrills and cries alarmed him. He flung his hands up to shield his face and cursed at his carelessness. Had he known the flock was roosting on the roof, he could have brought back fresh meat and been praised for his hunt.

Daniel took a deep breath and exhaled angrily. He returned to the ledge where he had dropped the cat. Peering across the street at the shadowed building, he gasped.

Helmsby’s Research Center.

Somewhere he had lost his bearings. He hadn’t realized he was this close to home, but he was relieved. The downside was the cat now knew where they lived. All he needed to do was cross the cable to the lower roof.

Tired, hungry, and fatigued, he was about to expend his remaining strength to cross. Already, his arms ached from crossing twenty other electrical cables. Nonetheless, he hoisted himself with a tight grip and swung out, suspending himself fifty feet above the sidewalk below.

His bulging biceps and forearms stung from accumulated lactic acid. He lifted his legs and wrapped his feet around the cable to lessen the strain on his hands and arms. His joints ached and popped from exertion. At the age of forty, he found himself reevaluating his existence and what might kill him first—old age or shifters. The latter seemed more likely.

Midway across, a sharp wind shoved him and swayed the worn cable harshly, violently. He glanced back to inspect the tied end of the cable. The knot seemed tight, but the cable was stretching. He glanced down. The fog dissipated, giving him a clear view of the dusty street. Bits of paper and dead leaves swirled and drifted into the alleys past the dumpsters. Hungry eyes glared upward.

Daniel’s hands slickened with sweat. His greasy palms slipped. The thought of plummeting to the pavement sickened him. The cable sagged even more.

After the wind subsided, the shifters abandoned the shadowed recesses near the dumpsters and circled beneath him. Gnashing the air and yelping like crazed hyenas, they eagerly waited for him to fall so they could devour him. Their monstrous mouths grew larger with new rows of sharper teeth. Their crackling jaws tightened as they snarled and paced in circles.

Desperately, Daniel locked his legs around the cable. Releasing one hand at a time, he wiped sweat on his shirt. With drier hands, he continued the slow process of moving hand over hand. He tried to ignore the cramping pains throughout his tired body, but the swaying cable thrashed back and forth, which reminded him of his aches. Each abrupt pivot stressed his muscles and joints more. Several times he lost his grip and dangled by his crossed legs. Further fatigue built in his upper thighs until he managed to grasp the cable with his hands again. With so much pain tearing through him, he wasn’t certain he’d reach the research center.

Flat-faced shifters with wide jaws leapt, snapping and biting the air. Their huge green eyes beamed with demonic lunacy. Their raving pants chanted in heaves that drown the churning, howling wind. If he fell, he wondered if he’d hit the pavement or if Hell would open up to swallow him for eternity. Suddenly, he envisioned his fate—a twisted mass of splattered flesh on the pavement being ripped apart by shifters. He closed his eyes and kept pulling himself across.

Daniel shook his head, driving the morbid images from his mind.

The shifters’ constant chattering and whines angered him. He wanted to hurl screams at them, but he remembered the yellow tabby on the roof. The cat could have easily killed him. A few more seconds holding it in his arms, and he feared it would have.

Traveling by rooftop might become short-lived. Should evolution grant shifters wings; the human population faced possible extinction. The way shifters evolved by manipulating their own genomes, the possibility of wing development was likely.

With twenty more feet to go, the wind intensified, swaying the stretched cable back and forth in a cradle-like fashion. The far end cable attachment ground against tarpaper. The abrasive surface ate away the protective rubber coating. Each sweeping motion tore away more rubber, exposing the copper and aluminum wiring beneath. With Daniel’s weight, the degradation intensified. The friction heating the wires weakened them.

He paused to catch his breath. His hands numbed from cold and exhaustion. Stinging pangs seared through his shoulders and down his arms.

Suddenly, the cable sagged. It stretched, lowered, dropped. Daniel repositioned his weight, but he could do nothing else to alleviate the stress.

The cable snapped.

Dammit! he said.

Unable to stop his descent, he held tightly to the cable and swung his feet out ahead of him. He couldn’t prevent the oncoming impact with the brick wall. Closer and closer, faster and faster, he arced downward and then upward like a pendulum. In seconds, he’d strike the wall. He hoped to maintain his hold and not release the cable.

Bracing himself, he tightened his shoulders and thrust his feet forward to cushion the blow. If a window was close enough, he’d have aimed for it, burst through, and rolled across the floor. No window. Just brick and mortar.

When his feet collided against the wall, excruciating spikes of pain shot through his feet, legs, and into the base of his spine.

Shit! Daniel said through clenched teeth. He hugged the cable and winced.

He was fortunate the impact hadn’t paralyzed him. A few minutes passed before he could effectively move his legs. He flexed his toes. None seemed broken. They were bruised and numb, but not broken. Tingling sensations throbbed throughout his body with each heartbeat.

The loose end of the cable whipped and thrashed in spiraling revolutions about a foot above the sidewalk. Incredibly the knot held.

A shifter ran to the cable, lunged at the frayed end, and missed on its first two attempts. The third time it snapped the cable between its sharp teeth. Its fuzzy forelimbs protracted into sinewy, slender limbs. It reconstructed its paws into hand-like appendages with strong, wiry-fingered projections with suckered tips that clung to the cable.

Witnessing the transformations captivated Daniel.

A wide toothy grin spread across the shifter’s face. It chattered with wicked excitement. Its green eyes narrowed while its focus settled on Daniel. The new suckered hands allowed it to move unfaltering up the cable. In seconds, the shifter flailed its claws, aiming at Daniel’s feet.

Daniel propped his feet against the wall, pushed off, and swung to the right. He hoped the swinging motion dislodged the shifter from the cable, but its grip remained tight. It climbed toward him, bold and undisturbed.

Within arm’s reach and loosely attached to the wall was a rusted drainage pipe. He secured a solid handhold around the pipe and released the electric cable. When he looked down, he realized the shifter had followed. Twenty feet below, it left the cable and held fast to the pipe. With the cable swinging out of reach, he had no choice but to climb the pipe to the roof.

Looking up, Daniel groaned. The rooftop seemed so far away.

Chattering below forced him to see where the shifter was. He had never seen any shifter manipulate its body components like this. And it, like the red-eyed shifter, seemed able to read his mind and predict his next move.

Daniel feared his mind played tricks on him. Occasionally, fatigue and mental stress prevented him from thinking rationally. There were also the occasional hallucinations, but he tried not to dwell on those. But those delusions often made him visualize the worst outcomes.

He understood nature didn’t offer supernatural abilities, and unless a laboratory had manipulated the shifters’ genetic chemistry into a strange, mysterious phenomenon, his distorted mind betrayed him. As best he recalled, no documented scientific experiments recorded such attributes.

Until Dr. Helmsby broke through the shifter genetic code and uncovered their DNA fingerprinting, they wouldn’t know how the shifting abilities were installed or by whom. The Darwinian Code had been tarnished, whether environmentally or synthetically. Finding the answers without proper biological supplies and electricity was damn near impossible.

Gas-powered generators allowed dim lighting in select rooms inside Helmsby’s Research Center. The lack of bright light or access to sunlight added to survivors’ depression. Candles aided in walking through the opaque halls and provided strained reading, but they didn’t yield enough light to shun their fears of the moving shadows that confronted them within silent halls.

The creature scaled the pipe in rapid, gravity-defying surges. It leapt upward and quickly clung to the pipe with suckered fingers before leaping again.

Weak and exhausted, Daniel fought against sore muscle pain while pulling himself upward. His muscles involuntarily twitched from overexertion and failed to obey his brain’s command. If he didn’t reach the rooftop soon, he’d be unable to hold onto the pipe. He’d fall to his death.

The chattering shifter rushed closer.

Daniel slipped his blade from its sheath. With barely enough strength to grasp the hilt, he held it at his side and rested the blade tip inside his boot. His shoulder drooped.

The shifter charged.

***

Leaping and grasping, the shifter’s paws thumped against the metal pipe with each gripping motion it took. Anticipating the taste of warm blood, it growled with elation and inched closer. Two feet below the human, it froze and stared when its prey withdrew a weapon.

It snarled with disgust.

For two minutes, it contemplated its next move. Testing the human, it crept a few inches upward, out of the blade’s reach, and hissed.

Another inch upward.

Wait.

Watching, it focused on the blade.

Hurry.

Two more inches.

Stop.

Wait.

Another inch. The human’s arm tightened.

Wait.

Charge.

***

The blade hung heavily in Daniel’s fingers. He’d lose grip if the creature didn’t strike soon. It waited for him to give up.

He didn’t care what this shifter’s intentions were. In his prejudice, all shifters were blood-hungered beasts and murderous violators of the human population.

Daniel’s vision dimmed. Sheer exhaustion sought to lure him to sleep. He looped his arm around the pipe and pressed his head against the cold bricks. Afraid to sheath the blade, he gently lowered it inside his boot. He wiped his hand free of sweat.

The shifter charged.

Daniel expected the shifter to make a move but not with such swiftness. Before he extracted the blade from his boot, the shifter flung its razor-sharp claws for his right calf. He raised his foot. The shifter missed, but its claws embedded into the rubber boot heel.

He retrieved the blade from his boot.

Using the leverage of attachment, the shifter flung its free claws skyward while lifting itself with its confined paw.

Seconds before the shifter sank its claws into his leg; Daniel brought the blade down with a solid swipe. The sharp blade sliced through the shifter’s forepaw and lopped it off. The beast cringed and growled in pain. Its clawed digits fell to the sidewalk.

Dangling from the boot, the creature pawed with its maimed limb until the blade dropped a second time, severing the lodged forepaw. The shifter dropped, wailed ferociously, and struck the sidewalk in a crumpled mass.

Still barely alive, it huddled into a fetal position, shuddering and growling while slowly restructuring its lost appendages. A pack of hungry shifters rushed their injured comrade, nipping and gnashing at its flesh. The more it cried, the harsher their attacks became until they ripped away mouthfuls of skin and fur from its trembling body. Gradually, its yelping form silenced and was reduced to specks of blood and small tufts of fur.

Daniel wiped the bloody blade against the bottom of his boot and sheathed it.

After feasting on the dying shifter, other shifters approached the building and gazed upward. Strangely, the red-eyed shifter hadn’t partaken in the crazed mutilation of the maimed shifter. Instead, perched on a dumpster, it licked its forepaw and continued watching him.

Most of the shifters vanished into the darkness, content with their small meal. The remaining few longed for more blood and meat. Though not cannibalistic, the shifters operated in the manner of evolution—only the fittest survived. Shifters eliminated their weak while making themselves stronger.

Taking a deep breath, Daniel continued his ascent. Stiff and hurting, he climbed the rusty drainpipe. Reaching the top, he flung himself onto the roof and collapsed. His whole body pulsed like a knotted ball of muscles that vibrated with spastic rhythm. His mouth was dry. He coughed phlegm to clear his throat. Removing a small flask from his inner coat pocket, he took two sips of water, which emptied the contents. Rolling to his side, he coughed and closed his eyes.

Although he had reached the research center, he was on the lower roof. In order to enter the building, he needed to climb to the higher roof four stories above. Since he didn’t have the strength to climb the metal ladder, he hid between the old central heating units to sleep. The units blocked the flailing winter wind. When he awakened, he hoped he had enough strength to climb.

With Randy standing watch on the higher roof, Daniel didn’t see the urgency to hurry. Besides, once the others knew Daniel had returned, he’d be asked a lot of questions. Questions he didn’t want to hear, but he’d be asked anyway. He needed sleep before explaining his failures to everyone.

Sitting up, he studied the snapped cable that had nearly caused his death. The cable gently swayed and rocked in the breeze. He considered himself lucky to be alive, if indeed it was luck at all. Reconsidering the ordeals to remain alive, death might have been a better option.

Suddenly, the electrical cable tightened. Daniel crawled to the roof ledge and peered down. Three green-eyed shifters were climbing up the cable.

With his dulling blade he hacked the cord several times until he severed it. The cord dropped with the shifters. Had he not noticed the cable, he’d have allowed shifters roof access while he slept. He didn’t have to worry about shifters reaching the drainage pipes. He and other survivors had used blowtorches to cut them off at the third floor during the weeks they worked to fortify the outside of the building.

Crawling between two inoperative heating units, he maneuvered himself until he found a spot that diminished wind exposure the most. Though cold, he could sleep.

Daniel closed his eyes and relaxed. He was near sleep when his body jerked involuntarily, and his eyes opened wide. He hated being too exhausted to sleep. His unrelenting insomnia slapped him wide-awake.

He stared at the dark cloud-veiled sky. Somewhere behind that mass of clouds and thick fog the nearly forgotten array of glittering stars shone. He last cherished their glow over three years ago. He wondered if he’d ever see them again.

Daniel patted his jacket pocket,