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16

Brandon

Smoke came from the reservation and where there’s smoke, there’s fire. It wasn’t just the reservation that had fallen to the DOPC. From where I sat perched, I could see the entire town and beyond it. My keen senses allowed me to hear what was far away and see what was ordinarily concealed.

They had indeed attacked several fronts and not just my own. I could sense that they had attacked other packs in the vicinity. A wolf has a way of knowing. It’s how we tell apart one pack from another; it’s how we choose to stay away from each other to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

But alas, blood had been shed.

I could not decide on whether to head immediately to the reservation or see to all the peril that was being caused around Rapid Falls. Below me, I could see police cars racing along the otherwise quaint, calm, and peaceful roads. Cops patrolled the streets. There were news vans in the town square. I wondered what fiction the government’s most insidious branch, the DOPC, had told the civilians of this peaceful town as a cover to attack us.

I decided that my responsibility as an alpha preceded any other task at hand. I would help the other packs, should they need my help, but only after I had seen to it that my kin were safe.

It would have been foolish to move through the town and head over to the other side where the reservation was in my wolf form. Clearly, the DOPC was able to detect us. How else had they found me and Alice in the woods? This gave them the upper hand.

Despair crept up my heart and clogged my throat as I made my way across the town to the reservation. I perked my ears to hear what was going on around me. The people were panicking. I could not make out what they were saying to each other in their frenzy. The only sound that I could distinctly pick out was the mic-boomed voice of the newscaster lady standing in the town square, reporting away in front of a camera.

“It would seem that the Indiana Pipeline, one of the recent projects halted by the local government, has malfunctioned and erupted at various points in the vicinity of Rapid Falls. The citizens are advised to stay indoors as the fumes from the ruptured pipeline can be devastatingly toxic. Government officials and law enforcement alike are on the scene, trying to minimize the damage,” she droned on at the camera. “An emergency curfew has been issued by the governor, requesting that citizens stay confined to their houses and only come out in case of extreme emergency. Citizens are instructed to wear safety masks for protection against the fumes.”

What a shitshow. Of all the excuses, they chose a ruptured pipeline? Pretty soon Rapid Falls would trend on Indiana T*****r, and everyone would start sending their thoughts and prayers to the victims, not knowing that the entire thing was a lie.

Every manner of terrible thoughts crossed my mind as I crept inside the reservation. Fear for the safety of my family members and my pack crippled me to the point that I could not walk properly as I neared the houses.

When I saw a large crowd beside the teepee, I breathed a sigh of relief. When I saw my mom and dad standing there beside Father Thomas, strength returned to my feet. I ran up to where the elders were addressing the crowd. The moment they saw me, everyone turned to me, their faces showing a range of emotions—terror, relief, fear, confusion, sadness.

“Brandon!” Mom yelled as she saw me. She broke free of Dad’s arm and came running with her arms open. She hugged me tightly, weeping uncontrollably on my shoulder. “When they came ... we … we thought they had killed you.”

“Mom. I’m okay. Alice is fine, too. What about the pack?” I asked, patting her head comfortingly.

“Son, I’m afraid we were bested,” Dad said. I looked from his face to Father Thomas’s face. Father Thomas nodded grimly.

“What do you mean we were bested?” I asked incredulously.

“They came without warning. We fought them off as best we could. Brandon … they, they took prisoners,” Dad stuttered.

“Who did they take?” I asked, rage boiling in my chest.

“The children!” Father Thomas said. “They took six of our children. Elmer and his wife, Tabby, are devastated at the loss of their kids. Kenneth and Melinda’s twins are gone. Bertha’s baby boy, too!”

“They did more than just take the children. They beat us up to within an inch of our lives! Father Abernathy, Father Gehrman, and Father Ornstein are all on the brink of death!” Father Thomas continued.

I could not believe it. Father Thomas led me into the prayer hall. The scene inside devastated me. The chairs and pews had been stacked against the walls. There were beds all along the length of the prayer hall. Bloodied beds with injured, bandaged members of my pack—my family!—lying on them, struggling to breathe.

I rushed over to where the elders were lying. Their faces were bruised purple. Large gashes were oozing blood on their bodies. A nurse was bandaging them as best as she could while a doctor was bent over Father Gehrman.

“He’s not going to make it,” the doctor said as he saw me and Father Thomas approach. “His injuries are severe, damaging his organs. It’ll take a miracle and then some to keep him alive. Father Abernathy has massive blood loss. Father Ornstein has gone into a coma by the looks of it.”

“What happened to Father Sigmund and Father Ernest?” I asked helplessly.

“They’ve been taken,” my dad said from behind. “They put up a hell of a fight, but in the end, they fell. I saw the DOPC put them in cages as if they were wild dogs.”

I needed air.

I headed outside the prayer hall and came face to face with Alice standing there. She was shaking. Her mouth was agape, her eyes wet.

“Alice!” I could not be more relieved to see her. “Your mom and sister, are they okay?”

“They didn’t have a clue,” Alice said. “They believe the news. I had to sneak out. Oh, Brandon. How many are inside?” She pointed at the prayer hall.