Patrol Stories Novels & Stories

She explained. She told me about how most of the patrols were under 20 years old. They were all young, fit, and stupid enough to do whatever they were told, in other words, perfect for the job. They had minor fighting skills, enough to hold their own and take down a majority of rouges, but their main job was information, not fighting. If they saw rogues, they needed to report it and then the wolves above them would be the ones who take action. “Have you ever seen the wolves above patrols?” I asked her.

I watched and waited till they were completely out of sight, breathing heavy but not from running. I turned to see Ben had shifted and was holding a pair of shorts for me so I shifted back and took them, acknowledging the two patrols. “Where did they come over?” one of the patrols asked. “I’m not sure, a few miles down that way for sure,” Ben tells them and they nod taking off and yelling about getting more out to patrol for the rest of the day. “Good communication between you and among them,” I tell Ben and he nods. “That isn’t true with everyone, those are two of the good ones.”

"If you are thinking that patrolling the area is your ordinary walk at the park, then you are mistaken." We didn't speak, and every one of us stiffened. I was not the only one guilty of the same idea. I cleared my throat nervously. The least I want is to burden myself with the captain's hostility. "This patrol's solitary purpose is to locate the base of the rebels," he said, pacing in front and confronting everyone's gaze with a glare. "We had been searching for them for years and found no one yet from time to time. Our soldiers are robbed and killed."

The dates were years back, long before Ronan became Alpha. Lyra’s breath slowed as she compared the columns. Patrol team names. Border zones. Incident reports. She traced her finger along one entry, reading it carefully. A patrol sent to the eastern ridge. Two were injured. One missing. The cause is listed as a rogue encounter. Lyra flipped to a newer page. The same ridge. Different names. Similar injuries. One missing. The cause is again listed as rogue activity. Her skin prickled. Lyra leaned closer, heart pounding harder. She began pulling the pages into rows, grouping them by location. She marked each patrol with a charcoal line, circling repeated zones.

Some returned with one arm or leg and some with one ear or one hollow eye socket and others stories of their experiences over there that was very infuriating. On the eastern parks of the country, mainly the Onitsha Park and the Aba Park, a great alarm was raised by the survivors who had managed to escape. Everyone at the park and beyond gathered around them, only to see their brothers and sisters butchered to death as some died on their way back. All their labour and sweat of many years destroyed in the twinkling of an eye. Their tales were full of woes, about what they had seen, experienced and lost.

Layla threw a quick glance at my direction and smirked at me. “Morning,” Evans said flatly. It wasn't directed to me, but I responded anyway. “Good morning, Alpha” I said, my voice smooth. He didn't respond. I swallowed my bread slowly as my stomach formed a knot. The awkward moment ceased when Beta Dominic came in with a brown file. “Alpha, we have an issue with the western patrol.” He took the file, carefully studying it. “Rogues again?” “One was captured. One claimed to be passing by.He kept on saying he didn't know he was in the Reeds territory.”.He replied.

she said after a while. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck. “I’m considering it.” She smiled faintly. “That means yes.” I turned to face her. “You don’t understand what patrol means right now.” Her eyebrow lifted. “Enlighten me.” “It’s not routine border checks anymore,” I said. “The Northern Crescent Pack is pushing further every week.” “I know.” “You could run into them.” “I know that too.” “And you’re still volunteering.” “Yes.” My jaw tightened. “That’s reckless.”

Baird seemed completely unfazed, casually pouring milk into my glass and launching into a story about his time with the patrol team. “Word of a strange beast terrorizing a small village at the western border had reached my patrol team's ears, so naturally we had to investigate. So there we were, out near the western border, hunting this supposed creature. We scoured the forest from dawn till dusk, but still no sign of the beast. After 4 days of searching, we finally gave up, just as we were about to head back, we heard it. A rustling in the bushes, just outside our camp.” Alpha Grayson’s eyes flicked up from his newspaper, just for a moment, as if gauging the direction of the story.

Janas posited. “How could they think it’s boring?” I objected. “It’s one of the most honorable things we can do! Search for rogues, defend our borders, serve the Alpha–it’s practically our calling as a people, for Goddess’ sake.” “I’m not disagreeing with you, Mark. But facts are facts.” “You think patrolling is boring?” His eyebrows flew up in surprise. “No, not at all. Trust me. I love patrol. But need I remind you that we had the highest enlistment date in the last decade for recruits the night that Rashaad and Petrus were attacked?”

I work as a security guard at a luxury residential complex. My daily routine is simple but demands attention to detail. I register visitors, patrol the grounds, help residents park or move items, and handle occasional emergencies. One morning, a man suddenly showed up at the security booth. He wore an expensive suit and a luxury watch—clearly one of the wealthy residents. He placed a paper bag full of cash on the table and said: “Could you do me a favor in the underground parking garage? Afterward, this money is yours.”