The dog shook its head, letting out a low whine.

  “Alright,” Lucas said, crossing his arms, his metal fingers tapping against his arms with a soft clink. “I know Apollo. How’s that sound?”

  The dog’s ears perked up, and it cocked its head to the side as if considering the name. After a moment, it nodded.

  “Alright, Apollo it is.”

  Isabelle looked between the two of them. “Was that really necessary? Let’s just go,” she said before Lucas could come up with a response.

  The three of them then left the room. Cautiously, they made their way through the hall and down the stairs onto the street, where they stopped and surveyed the area.

  Inside his metal puppet, Lucas perceived things fairly the same, if not better. Whilst he was fighting the wolves yesterday, he hadn’t appreciated how clear his senses were. Though pain was dulled, this was the only muting of his senses.

  “Alright, let’s go,” he said, his feet clanking slightly on the pavement as they hurried low across the street and over to the store.

  There was no one on the street. Many of them were probably still hiding in their houses, scared. Though there had been people coming out yesterday, that was further down, and it didn’t mean that all who’d come out would stay.

  Stepping up to the corner shop door, which was slightly ajar, Lucas pushed on it. A soft bell jingled, causing him to jerk. Isabelle flinched slightly, her head snapping up and down the street.

  When nothing responded to the noise, Lucas pushed further, opening the door completely. It was time to start the looting process. He shifted the backpack he had slung on and moved into the store, Isabelle following tentatively behind him, the dog in tow.

  “Alright, I think we should focus on getting medical supplies first,” Lucas said, glancing over his shoulder.

  Isabelle frowned at him. “It’s still weird to have a robot talking to me.”

  Lucas stopped. “I’m not a robot,” he said, turning. “I just have a weird face.”

  He stepped over to one of the fridge doors and caught his faint reflection in its glass. If he’d been the one to witness this himself, he’d have to call it as it was—unsettling. Shaking his head, he sighed.

  “Just grab the medical supplies,” he said over his shoulder.

  “What are we looking for exactly?”

  “Pills, and the like.” He stepped around an aisle, pausing as he spotted his target.

  Packs and packs of paracetamol, ibuprofen, and other things like it sat on the aisle. The store hadn’t been looted, not yet anyway.

  He glanced at the back exit of the store. People had probably lived upstairs. Maybe they still were. What had happened to the owners?

  Surely they would have come down during the night or before then. Part of Lucas wanted to go investigate to see if there was anyone left, but he couldn’t. He was here on a mission.

  Stepping over to the shelves, he flicked his bag off his back, popped the top open, and began scooping the paracetamol packets into its open top.

  He grabbed anything he could, reaching for bandages and anything else that they could use as medicine. He didn’t see any medical alcohol, and a pang of regret filled his chest. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in helping his neighbour out. He shook his head. No, he’d done a good thing. There was no point in beating himself up about it now.

  Over the next few minutes, after cramming what he deemed essential into his backpack, Lucas and Isabelle split the remaining tasks between them. Each ensured they carried a basic stock of medical supplies before loading their bags with canned goods and other non-perishables.

  Anything else that would go off within two to three days was pointless to bring. The decaying process had already started in earnest, and there was no point risking food poisoning when hospitals wouldn’t be around if anything got too serious.

  “Alright, I just need this one last thing,” Lucas shouted over the aisle, with Isabelle grunting in response.

  He then turned, reaching for a pack of plasters, but then paused as a shadow flickered in the corner of his eye. Turning, he came face to face with someone he shouldn’t have: Richard, his old manager from Dizzy Dave.

  The man stood before him, t-shirt tattered, thick joggers wrapped with tape and cardboard. At his side was a younger-looking man wearing a red cap and jeans that were, much like Richard’s, wrapped with duct tape and cardboard. He had a thick jacket on and seemed confused to find others here.

  “Lucas?” Richard said, seemingly unsure if he was actually seeing who he was seeing. “What happened to you?”

  The man stammered. Lucas blinked, unsure of what he was talking about for a moment before it sank in. He wasn’t in his actual body—he was in the puppet, yet his face was exactly the same.

  “Richard?” Lucas replied, more of a question. What was the man doing here exactly? Dizzy Dave was an hour away on foot, twenty minutes on a quick bus ride if traffic was feeling charitable. He shouldn’t have been here, and in the five years that he’d worked there, he’d never even got the idea that Richard lived anywhere near them.

  “Are you some sort of monster?” the man next to Richard asked, his gaze flicking from Lucas to Richard.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “What happened to you?” Richard asked again.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Isabelle stepped around the corner before Lucas could answer, Apollo at her side. Both of them looked from Lucas’s former manager to Lucas, as if questioning what was going on, but how could he respond? He didn’t know, for one, what Richard was doing here, or two, how he was supposed to react when found looting a store. And so he said the most sensible thing he could think of.

  “We’re not stealing. We’re just borrowing, is all.”

  Richard, who seemed surprised by the response, blinked and then frowned, his priorities reassessing in real time as his face morphed into that of a serious manager—the one he took on when he was about to scold one of the many employees. His gaze flickered from Lucas to the shelf next to him.

  “I see the shelves are a little empty. You take anything?”

  That was a loaded question, and one Lucas was hesitant to answer. If he said yes, what then? If he said no, would he press the issue?

  “Listen,” Richard continued, “we’re all in a tough situation. Those creatures have killed people. And others are still hurt. I’m gonna need you to hand over some of what you’ve taken, Lucas.”

  So, pressing the issue it was. Lucas’s heart began hammering in his chest, and he resisted the urge to take a step back. His manager was telling him to do something, and part of him felt like reacting on instinct. But he wasn’t at work anymore, and the world was not the same. For the first time in all the conversations he’d had with Richard, a ball of courage grew in his chest.

  “No,” he said to his old boss. “I can’t do that. I need them.”

  Richard frowned as if Lucas’s response was the highest insubordination. “What did you say?” he asked. “I know something’s happened with you, Lucas,” he said, gesturing towards him, still clearly uncomfortable by the sight of his puppet. “But we normal people still need it.”

  What did that mean? Normal? He was walking around in a puppet. He wasn’t suddenly not human.

  The man next to Richard shifted uncomfortably, his gaze moving to Apollo. “Richard, they’ve got a dog.”

  “I can see that,” he replied. “Listen, I don’t know what you mean by normal,” Lucas said. “Well, I do, but it’s not what you think. But I can’t give you—”

  Before he could continue, a howl rose in the distance, sending a spark of panic through him. Having heard the same thing, Richard’s eyes went wide, and he gritted his teeth, taking a step forward.

  “Give me that now. I don’t have the time to play with you!” he demanded, his voice rising and taking on an edge.

  “Richard,” the man beside him said, his voice hushed as he tried to calm the man down.

  “No, Donnie, we don’t have time to sit here and argue. Shara needs the painkillers.”

  Donnie, for his part, took a step back, his hand reaching out, grabbing some packets of biscuits and shoving them into his pocket. He could probably see the way things were going. The wolves were getting close, and he just wanted to grab what he could.

  “Give me the pills now,” Richard demanded again.

  But before Lucas could reply, Apollo barked at the man, sending Richard stumbling back. Lucas couldn’t even think of scolding the dog for giving their position away, because a howl—much closer than before—came from outside. That caused Richard to curse, swivelling on his heels and rushing out, Donnie following at his heels.

  “We have to go,” Isabelle said, stepping forward and racing behind the two men.

  Lucas charged after her—Apollo keeping pace. He vaulted over scattered cans the fleeing men had knocked loose, his metal feet clanking something awful as he skidded across slick tile and burst through the door. Isabelle was already ahead.

  The wolves came fast.

  Two of them cleared a car bonnet in one fluid leap, crashing into Richard and Donnie maybe twenty paces down. The men tried to hold their own—Donnie actually managed to tackle one wolf clean to the pavement, fists flying wild while Richard kicked at the other beast. But it wasn’t enough. Lucas almost moved to help, would’ve probably, except Isabelle’s voice stopped him. She’d already drawn her bow, nocked the arrow, and aimed it at another pair of wolves that tore past the struggling men.

  “You need to handle those guys first,” she said.

  He cut his gaze toward her. Not because she was abandoning Richard and Donnie—that didn’t quite seem to be it—but because the panic he’d seen in her yesterday had vanished completely. This focused, almost cold version of Isabelle was... unsettling, honestly. Yesterday, in her house, she’d been terrified for her life.

  Lucas nodded. “Apollo, with me.”

  His feet rang on the pavement as he stepped into the street.

  Metal collided with fur and muscle when the first wolf lunged—Lucas caught it mid-air, slammed it down hard. Though the thing was up instantly, all teeth and snarls. His fist connected with its jaw, but the beast’s following shoulder check sent him stumbling backwards. Yelps erupted from somewhere nearby. Apollo had begun tangling with his own opponent.

  Lucas reached for the wolf’s mane—flickering in that strange fire like way—but the creature sidestepped, lunged at his leg instead. Jaws locked around his calf. The bite scraped against metal, actually puncturing it with a low, grinding whine.

  The impact shoved him back, and he crashed down on the asphalt of the road, harder than any stumble. His thoughts scattered. The wolf released his leg, scrambled up toward his chest, mouth open and ready to—

  An arrow punched straight through its skull.

  Blood spattered everywhere, red droplets sliding off Lucas’s metal chest. He looked up. Isabelle stood by the shop door, bowstring still trembling as another blue arrow materialised between her fingers. She’d saved him.

  He shoved the corpse aside. Got to his feet.

  Donnie and Richard weren’t doing so well anymore.

  Donnie slumped against a car door, throat ripped completely open, blood pouring down his chest while a wolf clamped onto his leg and started dragging. Richard was already out cold, being hauled halfway down the street by another wolf—though it wasn’t eating him like some of the other wolves did in yesterday’s attacks.

  Maybe the flameback wolves understood the tactical situation better than he’d thought, knew their prey could get snatched back if Lucas and Isabelle gained the upper hand.

  Isabelle loosed another arrow. It slammed deep into the asphalt, right next to the wolf’s paw. The creature didn’t even flinch, just kept dragging Donnie away.

  A sharp bark echoed from a side alley. Two more wolves barreled out.

  Great.

  Apollo had already finished his target—it lay at the dog’s feet, chest torn open with deep claw marks, jaw shattered, head partially caved in. Lucas barely registered how vicious that fight must’ve been before the new wolves were on them.

  Apollo dove at the first one, tackling it mid-lunge. The second crashed into Lucas—he wrapped his hand around its throat, used its momentum against it, and drove it into the ground with a satisfying crunch.

  The thing whimpered, claws scraping frantically against his metal frame. Pain registered, but distant. Muted. He punched it once. Twice. Bone crunched under metal with each impact. He didn’t enjoy it exactly—there wasn’t pleasure there, not really—but it had to be done.

  He wrenched the wolf up by its neck and slammed it down again. Blood pooled beneath the body. A notification pinged somewhere in his peripheral vision as the creature went still.

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  SYSTEM MESSAGE

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  | Congratulations on contributing to the defeat of the 3x [Flameback Wolf - Novice 1]!

  | You have gained 15 XP.

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  How were the others doing?