Chapter Two

Fear is learned

Darkness. Cold.

Silence.

It was all there was now. Emptiness. There should be others. But there are not. Most are gone. Each in its own way. Ripped, bitten, torn by others. Tired, starved, hurt, lying down on the streets and no longer moving. Gone. Just gone. Only few left now. Little movement. It has been too long since it started. Since it was before.

Nothing but cold now. Cold and silence.

The Hunter did not like the cold. Or the silence.

In the dark shadows of the towering buildings in the city lit solely by the light of the night sky, the Hunter crouched against brick, on top concrete. Back and forth on worn, rubber soled heels. Grubby, heavy clothes hanging about a small, lithe form like bags of skin. Warm skin. Warm against the cold of the empty night. Good. The nights were getting colder now. The more warmth the better. And there was little other warmth to find here.

Here, in this city of the dead.

The Infection had hit the city in early October. The sprawling mess of steel and concrete had been far enough west that by the time the purported Green Flu hit, most of the population had been tested, vaccinated, and evacuated or in the process thereof.

Most. But not all.

Many stayed. It was just a flu, after all, and the safety precautions from the CEDA would most likely be enough, even if they were a bit extreme. There had been flu scares before, one right after another, season after season, and none had affected the city as much as the news tried to lead them to believe. There were always a few cases, true. A few weeks of shying away from those who coughed or sniffled. A few weeks of wearing flimsy face masks and washing hands more than normal. A few weeks of the season when schools and libraries and community centers were flooded with lines from the early hours of the morning to the late times of the evening. People standing, waiting, trying to procure the desperate shot or spray. The vaccination that promised to save them.

But it never seemed to matter much. A dozen cases here. A few more dozen there. Most not too terrible. Most did not even make it to the news. Eventually, it went away. It always went away. Life went on. There was no reason that would change now.

No reason at all.

But it did change. Everything changed.

That was why it was silent. And cold. In the darkness.

Shivering, restless, the Hunter rocked forward onto clawed hands, roughened and filthy from constant use, from grabbing, landing, walking, ripping. They supported his weight as he leaned forward, gathering his legs up underneath him, pale eyes flickering, nose twitching. Studying. Curious. Something on the air that was not supposed to be there.

Smell. Different smell. Familiar. So, so familiar. Why? He tried to think. Remember. Vague images. Sounds. Thoughts. Movement. Faces staring at him. Mouths turned upwards. Open. Voices speaking.

"…Infection hit…death…end of the world…hurts…"

He growled in frustration, head swiveling back and forth as if to see the memories that could not be seen. Bright colors and strange places flashed across his mind, almost to his physical vision. But nothing held still for too long. Nothing made sense. His growl grew louder, deeper. His head hurt, spinning, pounding. Anger rippled through his muscles, down his spine, exploding in his brain. Anger. So much anger. Clawed hands flexed. Muscles tensed. The smell infuriated him.

Anger. Hot, pounding fury.

The smell. Because of the smell.

He had to find the source of the smell. Destroy it. His head was throbbing now. Pounding in his ears. Destroying the silence. He hated the silence. But it was not a pleasant interruption. He hated it more than the silence. Had to find the smell. Claw it away so it would never bother him again. Would not bring up the faces and voices and thoughts. Had to kill. Tear. Bite. Just as he always had before.

Had to.

Shoulders rolled, back bent, crouched. Legs gathered underneath him.

Find. Kill. Destroy the source of the smell. Make it become like all else in the city. Like the others. Like the dead.

Then the confusion would go away. The pounding would stop. The anger would fade as it always did. And it would be silent once more.

The smell was strong now. And there were sounds. One or two. Like those in his mind. But more real. Louder. More confusing.

More images. Voices. More throbbing pain in his head.

He crawled forward on his belly across the hard, cold edge of the high place he was perched on. His nose turned upward, pale eyes near blind but searching the dim darkness all the same. The smell was strong. But now that he was close, he could tell there were many different smells. All gave him the same reaction. All smelled somewhat the same. But they were just a bit different than the others. Slight. Enough to tell him there were many sources of the smell. Five. At least five. Not that he knew the word. But he knew the meaning.

He wanted to attack. Leap. Pounce. Tear. But no. Five there. Too many for him. Dangerous. Wait…hold back…wait until one smell drew away. Wait until there was a difference in strength. Just one…

His head turned to the side, nose sniffing carefully. No. Not five. Six. One smell somewhat far away. Not as strong. Just what he wanted. Needed. He crept to all fours and sensed the area around him, judging distances between buildings, handholds, grips, with near blind eyes accustomed to the darkness, and silently leapt towards the smell, drawing closer, testing the air until it filled his senses more so than the other five smells. Close now. He slid down from the high place, clawed fingers nimbly gripping a window edge, feet and legs braced against the side of the building. Very close now. He could hear ragged breathing. Hear something rip. Through flesh. A familiar sound. Good. Then the smell…another smell…stronger…

His heart sped up, pounding even louder in his ears, adding to the pressure on his brain. He felt his chest constrict. He knew that smell. Blood. It was a good smell. Sweet. Bitter. It meant good. The anger faded slightly, replaced by something else. An aching. Hunger. He felt his muscles tense, bunching up. Another sound like the ones in his head. Short, quiet. Coming from where the blood was. Where the smell was. His anger flared up once again. Overwhelming. He did not understand why. But it made him furious. More images and voices and thoughts bubbled through into his mind, screaming at him. Disjointed.

"…run…help…please, help…"

A growl vibrated in his throat. Muscles went taut. Body pulled back. The smell was right there. The source. He could reach it in one leap. Easy. Then sink his claws into flesh. Rip through. Tear. Kill.

Then the smell would go away eventually. It would become like the others. Then his head would stop hurting. The pain would go away. And he could end his hunger as well. Maybe his cold, too. That would be good. All good.

The Hunter sniffed the air once again, judging the distance, feeling his way in the darkness without moving, looking for the flicker of movement that was all his eyes needed to see.

There. Right there.

His muscles coiled and he leapt, soaring through the hair, clawed hands outstretched, so eager for the kill. A shriek was torn from his throat, the hope of ending the smell the only thought in his pounding brain. The source of the smell heard him coming. Turned. He saw the slight movement. But too late. He slammed into the smell, carrying it to the hard ground. Before even landing, he was digging in, snarling bitterly. The anger wiped away now by savage joy.

"Help!"

The sound made him jerk back, but only for a moment. Bright images and vague words burst in his head. His anger returned. He shrieked at the smell, now so strong. Arm muscles worked at a furious pace. Claws tore through layers and layers. But no blood. No flesh. He snarled in frustration, snatching forward to bite. But still no flesh. Nothing but roughness.

He pulled back, preparing to continue his onslaught regardless of the lack of results, then…pain!

Something slammed into his back, just below his neck. His body seized up suddenly, stunned. He tried to reach out, grab, sink his claws into support, but another blow to his stomach doubled him over. Head turned in time for his dim eyes to see movement. Coming towards him. Fast. Not enough time to leap away. Or turn and defend. A heavy weight slammed into his side, sending him sprawling off his prey. Flying. Air. But uncontrolled. Not like a jump. Landing on concrete. Scraped across.

Voices hissed, snapped. Movement all around him. He tried to get to his feet. Ready for another attack. Muscles numb but mind overriding. Yet he never got the chance. Cruel hands grabbed at him, then another blow. This time to his chest. A heavy weight landing on top of him, driving air from his lungs, like a misjudged jump that sent him into the concrete.

The smell was overpowering now. All six smells. Everywhere. They flooded his senses. The rage within him flared from the confusion, driving aside all other thought or feeling.

Attack!

He tried to bite, but rough hands were holding him, hard fingers digging through into his flesh. His mouth opened wide to shriek. But that was a bad thing to do. A mistake. Something uncomfortable was shoved into his gaping jaw, pulled back harshly around his head, tied, painful. Bitter taste. Dry. On the bloodied skin of his cheeks, it felt like what covered the rest of his body. Touched his skin. Warmed him. But this was in the wrong place. All wrong. Bad. His arms were dragged behind him, something tight wrapped around, holding them back, unable to move. He tried to kick, but his legs were pinned down. Something heavy. Holding him. Keeping him still, even though inside he was exploding, his vocal chords firing off in a constant flurry, muffled by the thing across his mouth, by the lack of air in his lungs.

Sound was everywhere now. Harsh tones, quiet, but loud enough to stand out against the stillness of the city. The sounds confused the Hunter. Angered him. They were familiar. Vaguely so. Like the sounds in his head. But their meaning was unclear. Their emotion was too complex. He did not understand.

Then the hands grabbing him shifted. Pulled up. The weight on his legs lifted. He was being dragged now. Across the hard ground. He tried to twist away, wrench himself from the trapping grasps, but something smashed into his side and he stopped moving for just a few seconds. Just enough time for the hands to get a better grip, propel him forward. Like a jump. Through the air. The grips on him loosened, disappeared. His voice was caught in his throat, raw now from his vocal rage.

Not a jump. No control. No…

They threw him in a space that was too small for comfort. Cold. Hard. It smelled like blood. Only different. Not living. And small. Too small. Much too small. Openings everywhere, but no room to get out. No chance to escape but for the door slammed shut, bound tightly, locked up. Not that he could try. His arms were trapped behind him. His legs would not separate. There was not enough room to move, to sit up, to crouch, no matter how he moved. He twisted his head around furiously, looking about with wild eyes, nostrils flaring, the thing on his mouth soaked from excessive salivating. His body twitched and flailed, struggling to right itself, to crouch and prepare to pounce, attack. Escape from the helpless position. But impossible. Too small. Trapped.

"Ain't too happy, is it?" snickered a coarse voice, standing out so clearly from the hushed snaps of commands. Close. Very close. The Hunter's eyes swiveled to find the source of it, a squat man with long black hair tied back. The man's face was twisted into a cruel expression, mocking.

The Hunter growled through the gag in his mouth, body twisting more furiously in an attempt to get to the unfamiliar face.

"Lotta energy, that's good," said another voice gruffly. "It'll put up well in the ring."

The first man grunted. "Bit of a runt, though, eh? Wonder how long it'll last."

"Well, it survived this long on its own, dininit? 'Sides, least it ain't got any little friends like the others. We'll get one good fight from it at least."

There was a noise like the wind. Loud. Short. Angry. The strange sounds stopped. The faces watching him drew away, replaced by more. Then a ruffling, something black and heavy pulled around his vision, blocking his view in the thin spaces around him. Blinding him.

He shrieked again through the thing in his mouth, angry, frustrated. Threatening. Confused. Darkness everywhere. True darkness. No light at all. He tried to move again. Tried to crouch. Clawed fingers flexing frantically, ripping into his own flesh. But no room. The space was too small. More anger came. His head pounded harder. The images and sounds that his ears could not hear and eyes could not see burst painfully in his mind.

Anger. Fury. But he was trapped. Helpless.

Then the feeling of being moved. The surface he laid on shifted. Angled. He slid roughly across it, unable to brace himself. Crammed up against an uneven wall. Then the surface evened out. Flat. More movement. Scraping sounds. A pause, filled with the strange voices that caused the chaos in his head to flare sharply. Then a loud noise, non-living, overpowering the others. A lurch forward that sent him back against the uneven wall. Movement again.

More anger. More pain in his head.

He growled, but the sound melted into a whine. A whimper. Confused.

"Don't worry, you," said one of the voices from before. Muffled. On the other side of the darkness around him. Cold. Threatening. He bristled, dim eyes searching through black. But there was nothing to see. "You'll get your chance to sink your teeth into something soon enough."

Another growl. He did not like that voice. It confused him even more. It did not matter. He wanted out of this small space. Out of this stifling darkness. Away from the strong smells that drove him mad. That brought pain. Confusion. More anger.

But they were everywhere now. Surrounding him, like the silence and the cold of the city. Like the smell of those who laid on the hard, rough ground and never moved again. Everywhere. And they would never leave him alone again.

He was being attacked. Bitten at. Clawed. Torn. Snarling bitterly, he danced away from the flailing claws, pale eyes noticing every twitch, every movement of his opponent. Maddened. Angry. Uncontrolled.

The smell of blood was everywhere. Overwhelming. Sticky. He could feel it seep through to touch his skin. Still warm. The one he faced, the one that smelled like him, could smell it, too. That was why it was attacking him. Biting. Clawing. The smell was driving it, hurting it. Overpowering the other smells, the same smells that angered the Hunter so much. Made his head pound, throb. Made the images and voices and sounds burst in his brain.

But no time for that now.

His opponent charged, forcing him back against the heavy metal railing surrounding them. Sharp claws dug into skin, ripped through cloth. The Hunter shrieked and growled in response, swiping blindly. Ripping. His claws tore through something soft. Softer than the rest. Wet. Bursting. It made the other scream in pain and surprise, falling back. Clawing at its own face. Just enough distraction. Enough time.

The Hunter lunged forward, bloodied teeth bared, claws digging into a handhold. He snapped and gnashed his mouth at the neck, the place where the blood of the other pounded, thrived, so easy to get to. Usually.

Something was in the way, though. Stopping him. Just long enough for the other to recover. To try to bite back, to dig its own claws into his back, tearing and shrieking furiously, trying to dislodge the thing clutching him. But the Hunter held on determinedly, snapping in again and again, trying to get past the obstacle blocking him from the kill, blinded by the smell of the blood that covered him, blinded to the fact that the smell of the other was like his own. That this smell did not bring up the images and voices and anger like the other smells.

No time for that now.

The other tried to roll onto all fours, large enough to do so even with the Hunter clinging to its front. It tried to shove him off, push him away, but the Hunter held on with inhuman strength, still biting. Searching. Looking for the opening of flesh. Another roll. More snarling. Biting. Growling. Shrieks. But the Hunter did not let go. Could not. Even as claws ripped into his flesh, even as his own blood poured down his skin, burning hot, wet.

Another bite. More. Another. Just one opening, that was all. Open flesh, that was…

At last, his teeth dug into something that was not hard, not non-living. He jerked his head back immediately, his teeth ripping through, something wet and hot splattering his face, dripping into him, filling his mouth. His opponent tried to shriek, but the Hunter was at its throat once again, biting deeper now, biting harder.

The movement beneath him became more frantic. Weaker. The other flailed once more. Twice. Then stopped. Stilled.

Gone. Like the others in the city.

But he was not in the city any longer.

A loud flurry of voice sounds erupted around him as the other stilled forever. Confused, startled, the Hunter pulled back, teeth bared in a warning snarl as he tried to face the source of the noise. But it was everywhere. All around him. He saw the movement of many, tasted the smell of many on the air. The fury at being attacked faded now. Replaced by confusion. He was surrounded. Out in the open. Still covered in blood.

Blood. Blood was good. And he had killed. That was good, too. He turned his attention back to his kill, the fresh blood and flesh sitting heavily on his tongue.

Then…loud bangs and bright flashing lights erupted around him, stunning him, confusing him. He cringed and stumbled back, unable to see the source in order to attack, too stunned and blinded to understand what was going on. He backed away uncertainly, only to see, somehow, the figures of people standing around him, drawing closer. Movement. Too much movement. Threatening. A growl ripped from his throat, his bloodied teeth bared. Muscles bunched up. Coiled. Preparing to leap…

Pain. Immeasurable pain. The sort that his ravaged mind could not possibly ignore. He screamed and flailed, clawing at the epicenter of the pain, at his neck, at the heavy unfamiliar tightness. But then the pain was gone. Numbness now. Aching. Misery. He collapsed onto the concrete, whimpering, clawing.

"Back in your cage, you!"

A harsh blow to his stomach. Powerful hands grabbing at his back, heaving him up bodily, dragging him across bloodied hard ground, then a heave and he was thrown into near darkness. Cold. Hard. Small. Familiar.

Confused. Pain.

The cage moved, rolled back farther into darkness. Away from the light. Away from the smell of blood, of his kill. Harsh sounds. Cold tones. All around him. Then the movement stopped. The sounds drew away. Left alone.

The Hunter was shuddering. Body shaking violently from pain and cold and confusion. He cowered in a corner of the small space, staring around him blearily at the dim shadows, bloody claws clutching at the immovable pain source strapped around his neck.

Confused. Very confused. And angry.

His head was throbbing again.

A time passed, and then the air was rent with shrieks and growls. Familiar. Like his own sounds that came from his throat. Like the sounds that had come from his opponent. He knew what they meant. He had heard them in the city. Breaking the silence. They were threatening, warning. Fury. Then there was tearing. Ripping. A fight. A fight like he had just had. And in the background, the strange sounds that made him angry. Calls. But different emotions. Meanings. Ones he did not understand.

But he was beginning to.

A whimper escaped his throat as he backed up uncertainly against the bars of his cage, his dim eyes flickering through the darkness. He felt helpless. Trapped. Like when his arms were behind his back and his legs would not separate. Like when the thing was in his mouth and the darkness was all around him. He was also still in pain. All over his body. Not just his head. Pain. And the anger was still there. So was the confusion. Throbbing.

Hurting.

But something else was there, too. Something different. It was an unpleasant feeling. Bad.

Very bad.

Fear.

Yes. Fear.

That was the night that the Hunter relearned fear.