Kristie Cook - Genesis

Their halting footsteps pounded behind her. She imagined feeling their ragged breaths on her neck, though she had too much of a lead to truly feel it. But her peplos slowed her down, the ankle-length tunic twisting around her legs. She glanced over her shoulder once. The soldiers were gaining on her, their awkwardness seeming to fall away with each step they took.

Not caring how inappropriate it was, she hitched the bottom of her peplos to her thighs, freeing her legs. She dug her feet into the ground and sprang forward as hard as she could. She knew she ran faster than most people—speed was one of her family’s unusual abilities—but she couldn’t outrun these … these undead men.

A hand brushed against her shoulder and she screamed. She cut sharply to her right and tore through the woods, forgetting her earlier fear of the beasts that roamed within. She had worse worries now. She thought. Something crashed through the trees to her right. She glanced over to see yellow eyes and a mouth of sharp teeth bounding through the woods next to her, keeping her pace. It suddenly veered left, cutting her off.

She skidded to a halt, dirt and leaves spraying in the air. A wolf taller than her stood in her path, its hackles raised and its lips pulled back from teeth longer than her index finger. Its yellow eyes burned into her with a wild hunger and a line of drool hung from its fang. The two men … creatures … whatever they were … slowed their steps behind her, whether because they feared the wolf or thought they had her trapped, she didn’t know.

The animal growled. The men hissed. Cassandra spun to her left and took off running again. She broke through the edge of the woods into a clearing near home, jaws snapping right behind her. The sky had lightened considerably with the coming dawn but, looking over her shoulder at the three beasts chasing her, she didn’t see the looming figure in front of her. She grunted with the collision, the body hard and unmoving as she slammed into it.

“Cassandra?” Jordan barked, grabbing his sister by the shoulders just as she plowed into him. He’d dropped everything when he heard the crashing through the woods, but hadn’t expected his sister to be the one making all the noise. Then two men and an unusually large wolf broke through the tree line, all of their eyes full of hunger and lust. Jordan pushed Cassandra behind him and drew out his sword.

The wolf halted in its tracks. Its yellow eyes locked with Jordan’s and a strange feeling the wolf somehow knew him brushed the back of his mind. With a thunderous growl, the beast suddenly turned and lunged at the men, hitting one and knocking him to the ground. The other soldier grabbed the wolf’s neck and threw it to the side. Jordan’s brow lifted at the display of inhuman strength. Impressive. The wolf snarled again and attacked the second man. He raised his arm in defense and the animal’s snout latched on. The three became a snarling, growling and hissing ball of swinging arms and snapping jaws.

Jordan grabbed Cassandra’s upper arm and lifted her to her feet. As they slowly backed away, the sun edged above the horizon, flooding the clearing with its brightness, and the fight ceased immediately. All three of the combatants looked to the sky. The men cringed and their hands flew up to shield their red eyes, while the wolf whimpered and ran away. The men’s bodies sagged, as if suddenly and completely exhausted. They exchanged a puzzled glance before loping off into the darker woods. Jordan noticed how neither of them had a single scratch or any blood from the wolf’s teeth or claws.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, still staring after the strange men. He wanted to chase after them—to find out who or what they were—but Cassandra still trembled at his side. “Come on.”

She ran as though she were still being chased. Jordan followed on her heels, resisting the urge to pass her, staying behind just in case the others came back. They flew into the hut and slammed the door behind them.

“Father!” Cassandra gasped between pants as she braced the door with a stripped tree limb. “Father, you’ll never believe—”

Jordan clasped her wrist, breaking her off. He felt her eyes on him, questioning, but he couldn’t stop his own stare to look at her. Father lay sprawled on the dirt floor, nowhere near his bedding, his hair—blond and shoulder-length, just like Jordan’s—curtaining his face. Cassandra lunged to his side, falling to her knees, but Jordan remained frozen with shock, fearing the worst. He can’t die. It’s … impossible.

“Father?” his sister said, shaking him. “Father, what happened?”

Father blinked several times and then his eyes finally focused on her. Jordan blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and finally found the ability to move. He knelt beside them.

“I don’t know,” Father whispered. “I believe I am not well.”

Jordan’s brow furrowed as Father struggled to stand on shaky legs. None of them had ever been sick, not even Father. They hardly even aged. But now that Jordan looked at him more closely, he noticed lines around Father’s eyes that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been home, only weeks ago. Even the color of his eyes—they once shared the same deep blue—seemed lighter and distant, as if he already gazed into another place. As if he’d already left them.

How could this be! A hot seed planted itself in Jordan’s stomach—a seed of anger.

“You should stay in bed today,” Cassandra said to Father, her voice muffled by the blood whirring in Jordan’s ears. “You just need some rest.”

Lost in his own angry thoughts, Jordan watched as Cassandra slid her arm around Father’s waist and helped him make the few steps to his bedding. As he collapsed into a heap and Cassandra tended to him, a memory of Mother flashed before Jordan’s eyes—she’d looked just the same right before she died decades ago.

He needed air.

Despite his sister’s protests, he fled outside with the excuse of retrieving the goods he’d brought home. He took his time crossing the clearing and distracted himself by thinking of the men and the wolf. If they had returned, they hadn’t discovered his haul. He cocked his head to listen for them, but only heard birds chirping from the treetops and the sounds of small rodents rustling in the leaves of the forest floor. He considered how all three of them had stopped when the sun hit them and then retreated. His eyes narrowed with a thought … .

But he didn’t have time to think now. If he delayed too long, Cassandra would come looking for him and the ingredients she needed for Father’s soup.

While she cooked, she told them the whole story.

“Dead bodies stood up and walked?” Father asked, his voice sounding stronger but bewildered. “Cassandra, what kind of berries have you been eating?”

Jordan snorted. Cassandra put one hand on her hip and waved her spoon at Father, her chin jutting out as it always did when they teased her.

“I know my edibles. You know that. I saw what I saw and it was terrifying.”

Yes, Cassandra knew her edibles and Jordan knew she’d been truly frightened. But dead men walking? Absurd.

“It was very strange,” he conceded. “They didn’t appear to be normal men, I can agree with that.”

“That wolf wasn’t normal either,” Cassandra said.

Jordan didn’t respond, but stroked his chin as he gazed into the fire. She was right. The wolf wasn’t normal. The way it had looked at him—as if some human awareness existed behind the yellow eyes. Jordan shook himself. It was just an animal. But his curiosity was piqued. He wished he had chased after them.

“Did they follow you home?” Father asked and the alarm in his voice caught Jordan’s attention.