Hunter Survivors Novels & Stories

I carefully pick my way over the rocks. "You did. You looked so exhausted; I figured that I would let you." I try not to be annoyed at him. I know he was thinking about my best interest, but my mind is on the school. Are there even any survivors? Or did the Silver Hunters slaughter everyone there? My stomach roils, and my legs shake as we clamber up the riverbank. I almost want to go back to the nightmare I was having, because at least nightmares end. This new reality never will.

We could see broken trees, bodies of hunters and a few golden-eyed wolves scattered on the ground. Sable finally found it wise to slow down. “They’re still here. I count at least thirty enhanced. New ones. Bigger.” I gripped my rifle close to me like a friend. “We hit the east entrance. That’s where the survivors would’ve fallen back to. In and out. Grab who we can and run.” Liora checked her magazine. “I’ve got your back. Always.” We left the jeep hidden and moved in on foot, sticking to the trees. The stims made us fast and quiet despite our injuries. When we reached the broken bunker entrance, the scene turned my stomach.

I survived because I found strength in the small things - my grandmother’s quiet hugs, my siblings’ laughter, the way the moonlight filtered through the trees and reminded me that Selene was still watching. I survived because even when I wanted to give up, there was a voice inside me that whispered: Not yet. Not like this. You are more than what he did to you. I am not what he did to me. I am not the silence he forced me to keep. I am not his crime. I am still here, scarred but not broken.

Then, on my first day at Aegis Security, just as I was sitting in the spacious office, a man in a black trench coat pushed the door open and walked in. He looked ordinary, but I recognized him at a glance. He was the friend who worked in the government's "special unit," the one I had sent all the evidence to. He placed a folder on my desk. "Congratulations, Sinead. You passed the final test." I froze. "What test?" I asked. He smiled. "We already noticed 'Goddess Hunter' from the first day it appeared. We decided to define it as a social pressure test. We wanted to see how an ordinary person would react in the modern world when faced with extreme injustice and systemic failure.

Toney stood in front of the monitor for several long moments, his eyes scanning each image one final time before slowly turning to face us. The room had gone unnaturally quiet. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his expression grim. “I’ve worked in trauma for nearly twenty years,” he said quietly. “Warriors. Rogues. Survivors of war. Victims of abuse. I’ve seen wolves arrive at death’s door more times than I can count.” His gaze drifted back toward Raymond, lingering on the unconscious figure lying in the bed.

The evolved infected were relentless. They hunted us through the ruins of Fort Hamilton, through the forests, through the towns we had once called safe. They moved with terrifying intelligence, coordinating their attacks, learning from their mistakes. I had lost more people. Too many. The survivors were terrified. They looked to me for hope, for answers, for salvation. But I was running out of ideas. Until I had one. A desperate one. Crazy. Suicidal. But it was the only chance we had.

The second wave came three days later, a larger group of survivors who had somehow found their way to the mountain. Clara watched them approach through her cameras, her expression cold and unreadable. There were at least twenty of them, their bodies huddled together against the biting wind, their faces gaunt and hollow. They moved like a single organism, their steps synchronized, their purpose unified. They had seen the bunker from a distance, had recognized it for what it was, and they were determined to get inside.

The camp woke slowly the next morning, the survivors moving like ghosts through the gray dawn. Elif walked among the wounded, offering what comfort she could, her hands stained with blood that was not her own. She had lost too many. The numbers echoed in her head like a death knell: seven hundred had marched south, and now barely three hundred remained capable of fighting. The rest were dead or dying, scattered across the mountain pass where Liesel's creatures had torn through them.

It was a straight up genocide. “They will pay” Vergil said darkly, helping a survivor up to his feet, “Find shelter in the forests, over the years we have prepared various hideouts for cases like these. I apologize that I did not arrive earlier.” The forlorn Ecanus gave him their thanks and solemnly walked off, many were crying at the loss of their friends, lovers and family.

Jumping took a toll on us both, and when we finally arrived at my grandparents’ beach house, I collapsed before I even made it up their driveway. Everything since the battle is a blur. Navvan is just… gone. The few survivors were mostly women and children who’d left the village and sought shelter in a nearby cave system. Those fifty or so people are in Silverhide now, recovering. Assimilating to a new home, new support systems. And I’m here, in a beach house, walking up and down the driveway in the hot summer sun, trying to get my mind right.