Page 5 of Depraved
Do I go join the group of alpha men who are dragging away the heaviest beams from the wreckage and offer them water?
I don’t know that the words of a twenty-something will comfort the middle-aged woman who’s sobbing on the edge of the tree line, two kids clinging to her jeans. I’m guessing her husband was one of the pack members I met in the kitchen. Guilt eats at me.
What do I do?
Matthew provides me with a desperately needed solution when he raises his voice again and calls out, “I need five or six more volunteers to shift through the rubble right here and search for survivors.” He points to an area of the collapsed mound that’s steeper than the rest.
That. I can do that. It’s active. It’s movement. It’s helping. And it’s not trying to stop my own tongue from tripping all over itself in front of people who are clearly in mourning.
Mom and I both step forward at the same time, each of us eager to end our interaction. Matthew sees us both and gives me a deferential nod before he points at a section of the ruined building off to the right.
“Luna, I don’t think—” Warcraft starts to deny me, but I lift a hand to stop him.
I’m not listening to any alphas other than Black right now. Jonah’s healing, my stupid mother is beside me, and nobody will let me sate the bloodlust running through my veins. But I will work off this anxious energy and do something useful, dammit. I will.
“Grab a shovel, Warcraft,” I tell the alpha, whom I happen to know is quite fond of eating at Black’s house. “Otherwise, the next time Matthew and I cook for you, you’ll find a little something special in your food.”
A growl rises in his throat for half a second before he cuts it off and bows his head. “Yes, Luna.”
Poseidon, the elite with dull dishwater-blond hair and a dull personality to match, grumbles, “Black won’t like this.”
“He told us to watch her and keep her safe, not chain her up,” Warcraft retorts, his eyes hardly meeting either of ours, but drifting back to the rubble as if he has Superman’s laser gaze. I wish he did.
The other elite shakes his head, like Warcraft is making a huge mistake, but he follows the man’s lead and walks over to a newly arrived truck whose bed is full of pickaxes, rakes, and shovels. It looks like someone cleaned out the entire garden department at Home Depot.
When they come back over, Warcraft hands me one of the smaller square-point shovels, the kind good for shallow digging. Then he gives me a pair of leather gloves before putting on his own. He keeps a rounded shovel for himself and takes a deep breath before instructing me, “Be careful, don’t go deep, and hover your hand above anything before you touch it in case it’s still burning hot.”
I give him a genuine smile, simply glad that I’m going to get an outlet instead of standing around twiddling my thumbs.
A tall burly man with a wild, grizzled beard streaked black and gray, trots over to join us. “Alphas. Luna. I’m Toe. I’d be honored to dig with you.”
Warcraft looks at me … because apparently, I’m approving these things? Totally stupid. I have to refrain from rolling my eyes as I nod at the man and then turn to the section of the mountain that used to be our pack house. My chest tightens a bit as I stare at it. I have no idea if the shifters inside could have survived both the bombing and then the collapse. But we have to try.
“Let me in. I’ll give it all a stir first.” Toe offers, stepping over a big fallen beam to spin his shovel through the ash like a spoon through stew.
“Wait. You aren’t doing that right!” A woman calls out. The thick clod of hiking boots sounds in my ears as I turn and I’m struck by the sight of a curly-haired, middle-aged redhead whose freckles are so prominent that they even dot her lips, standing out amidst the ash flickering through the air.
Toe addresses the newcomer. “Engine. I’m just showing them to dig gently.”
“Gently is fine, but we also need efficiency. If you see something covering a beam, be a bit more aggressive. If you identify a straight line of wood rubble, ignore that and dig to the side of it, that’s probably a wall. We need to find survivors first and foremost. If you find anyone who doesn’t have a pulse, let us all know, and we’ll move to a slightly different dig site. The dead can wait. They won’t mind.” Her tone is firm, and her stance indicates that she fully expects to be obeyed. I can’t smell her—not with the way the wind is blowing around the filthy air—but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s a female alpha. I glance back at my mother whose teeth look like they might crack from the pressure she’s exerting clenching them. I bet this female outranks my mother.
The two elites guarding me are staring off into the forest longingly—paying no attention to this exchange because they wish they were off with Black, hunting the bastard responsible. Join the club, boys.
“Alright, Engine. That sounds like a plan,” Toe agrees with the redhead amicably before he flips his shovel over and takes a very shallow scoop.
I wait to begin, checking his technique first as he moves around smithereens that were once part of the building nearly as grandiose as a mansion.
“Not too hot,” he calls out. “I think we’re good to start.”
With that, we join him. Warcraft and Poseidon flank me like two huge shadows. All of us, even my mother, set to work in silence. There’s an odd, lingering tension as we work. At first, I attribute it to our mission, but then I catch Mom glaring daggers over at Engine. I roll my eyes as I focus back on the task at hand. Engine must have beaten her in a fight or something—my mother never lets things go.
When Mom pushes her shovel into a section of debris just to her left, Engine calls out, “Hey! That’s a wall.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. See, it’s a corner. This section meets that,” Engine gestures in midair. “Move over.”
I glance over to see my mother practically vibrating with fury in the moonlight. She wants to retort so badly that her eyes flash gold. But she doesn’t. She moves, grudgingly.
