The Molting: The Complete Four Book Series, page 49
Jonah felt lucky no one had communicated its discovery to the rest of the group. It showed their inexperience, but also, they clearly weren’t expecting to run into anyone out in the forest as they searched. Jonah had been fortunate he showed up when he had. Even though Doreen had done the shooting.
The next time something like that happened, it would probably be a sweep. Everything anybody would ever want for survival was there, and if they discovered Jonah’s authentic map and deciphered his burial method that was thirty-one paces north, south, east, or west of the actual burial locations according to which direction he was from the cabin . . .
His burial method was a contingency in case that real map was discovered, and he’d chosen the number of paces because it was random. He’d actually chosen the number because the amount of work he was doing to keep his people safe had reminded him of how Jonah had assured Henry he would. Thirty-one was also the number of Behemoths Henry claimed to have killed when Jonah first met him on the road.
The likelihood of the map being discovered and also deciphered wasn’t great, but Jonah still couldn’t waste precious time. He had too much to lose, and he couldn’t allow any other precarious situations with more trespassers. These weren’t the good folks from Henrytown. Frox, Perry, and their people were selfish and desperate, and it was clear they would do anything to survive.
A lot like Jonah himself at a certain point in his life, but moral roads often go in different directions. Some ascended into normalcy and selflessness as his own had, but others had surely descended into savagery and rapidly, as fast as a fully loaded semitruck flooring it full speed downhill with its brakes cut.
Ironically, Jonah, Doreen, and Heike had been relatively safe from Molters since they had arrived at the cabin because of Jonah’s clearing, but now they were susceptible to another threat entirely, a very unexpected one, which was their fellow man. Jonah needed to get out of there—not just the tent but away from Frox and his people—and fast. Period. There were no other decisions for him to make.
Frox abruptly threw the flap of the tent open and marched toward Jonah as if his assumption of power had already changed him into a different person.
Jonah remained as calm as when he was getting chewed out by a superior while serving his country. “You look happy.”
Frox reddened. “You shouldn’t provoke me.”
“You’re just going to kill me anyway. Get it over with.”
“You haven’t been paying attention.”
That was where Frox was dead wrong. Jonah had been paying strict attention, and his attempt to provoke Frox was about to pay off. Frox was going to slip up and reveal a way to allow Jonah to escape, and he wouldn’t even know he’d done it until Jonah was gone. All they had done so far was threaten him. Frox had already admitted they didn’t torture. If they were actually going to kill him, they would have already done it. Not that Jonah believed they wouldn’t kill him if he pushed enough, but he suspected they needed him for the Draw, however that worked, and that wasn’t happening at the moment as far as he could tell, which meant he had time to plot.
Jonah stared up at him. “Why chat with me?”
“Even though you won’t be alive for much longer,” Frox said, “you deserve to know why.”
Obviously to clear your conscience, Jonah thought. “OK. Why?”
“Because the hell with this world.”
If Jonah could have rolled his eyes without interrupting Frox’s precious spiel, giving Jonah more time to further his plan, he would have. “Say again?”
Shit, Jonah thought. Military jargon. Hopefully Frox hadn’t noticed. It would be difficult to convince anyone who recognized such language that the person phrasing it that way hadn’t been in the military.
“It’s been trying to kill us off since our beginning,” Frox said.
If Frox had recognized the phrase, he hadn’t reacted, and Jonah was able to relax somewhat. If they knew everything about him, they’d probably kill him. They would understand he was too much of a threat to be left alive as a mere prisoner.
“It?” Jonah said.
“Nature,” Frox said. “Can’t make up its mind. Always trying to come up with something better to take us out and replace us.”
“But you said the Molting was population control.”
“Many planets are meant for life, but which kind is best for each? Who knows? The Molting is a biological infection to humans, like a virus, and all cells are replaced. The monstrous results live only to kill, diminish the masses, and our planet seems intent on replacing us with them. Maybe they are something . . . better than us for Earth. More controllable. It’s not like Molters are going to push industrialization.”
“I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“I just told you.”
“Then you don’t understand.”
Frox’s bushy eyebrows knit together. “What don’t I understand?”
“That nothing is a fact except the fact that many things about this planet are changing,” Jonah said. “Even they are unalike now. And I actually suspect they’re turning on each other.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Release me and I’ll mail you a letter with an explanation. I find I can express myself better when I write down my thoughts as opposed to pointless conversation.”
“Do you ever tire of being annoying?”
“Do you ever tire of being an arrogant prick?”
Frox stared at Jonah for a few seconds as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, that anyone who dared to speak to him that way was playing with fire . . . but he eventually chuckled. It was an act, though. Then he seemed to be debating whether he would kill Jonah and how, Draw be damned. But then he seemed to calm down.
It was obvious to Jonah that Frox could take slight jabs, and that meant he hadn’t been in power much throughout his life. No, Frox had likely spent most of his time as an underling, but he was strong willed, so Jonah would be wise not to jab too much, pull his punches mostly, and only go for a figurative haymaker when he was positive he could connect.
“This threat, it might not last,” Jonah said. “It’s just something else we have to endure. Until the next thing. Typically, it’s us versus them, whoever they are, and by they, I mean people, typically, but that’s not what’s happening this time. I mean, it is, but now we have a much deadlier enemy that we’re facing as well as one another.”
Jonah wasn’t too keen on conversing with Frox, a man who might very well end his life, but maybe Jonah could start an argument. Or somehow create an alliance. Or just allow Frox to think that was happening. Frox was harder to read than most. One of the reasons was whenever he spoke, Jonah couldn’t see his mouth moving because his mustache covered it. It was similar to someone wearing sunglasses while playing poker. In a way that was what was going on, but Frox wasn’t the only one holding cards. Jonah held a hand too.
I’ll let you think I’m actually focused on this conversation, offering my hypotheses while I figure a way out of here. “I don’t think they’re here to replace us,” Jonah said.
“Why then?” Frox asked with actual interest.
“Earth’s resources.”
“I don’t follow.”
“We need them. They don’t.”
Frox thought for a moment. “Gold is needed? Coffee?”
“We use those.”
“Our blood isn’t a resource?”
“In a way, I suppose. But then all meat, all tissue is a resource.”
“It is.”
“I know that, Dietrich, but I’m talking about the resources put here on this planet specifically for us. It’s proof we belong here.”
“I don’t buy it, Jonah. Just think of any animal . . . ants, birds, fuckin’ . . . whatever. They all probably have their versions of use. Shit, really? That’s all you got? It could be argued that a fucking beaver belongs on this planet more than we do. Think of all the resources it uses.”
Jonah didn’t expect that and laughed. “True, I guess. But how about our ability to make fire? The fact that it exists in a controllable way and doesn’t cause a fucking explosion when it sparks . . . and seriously, coffee? It’s the most wonderful . . . Are you going to deny that it’s the most amazing and delicious—”
“I’m with you on that one.” Frox cut him off. “Coffee is a gift from the gods. There’s no debating that.”
As the two men smiled at each other, it was likely the only moment in their lives when they would be in agreement or even close to being friendly.
Jonah forced his smile to fade. “Perhaps you’re right, though. I don’t know anything for certain. I’ve just been doing my best to wrap my head around the Molting since it began. What I do know, and this is the only thing I’m positive of, is that if we don’t fight our best, they will wipe us out, and then Molters will be the next dominant lifeform on this planet regardless of whatever conclusions you or I or anyone else comes up with.”
Frox was grinning at him for some reason. It was a little jarring because Jonah didn’t know why he was doing it, but he finished his thought anyway.
“If we don’t stick together, in a few years—a hundred, or maybe a thousand—we’ll all be gone, and they’ll be here, and then they will have to survive whatever nature decides on to make their lives complicated.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that,” Frox said.
“Which part? About us sticking together?” Hopefully, Jonah thought.
“No. About us fighting our best. See, that isn’t enough. This is a threat that needs to be outsmarted.”
That’s what I meant, asshole.
“Nature?” Frox said, reflecting on his own hypotheses. “It isn’t concerned with who lives or dies or which species is the dominant one. One thing Molters got on us is they hibernate, and we can’t. They can wait us out. This world, nature, whatever, it’s given us some real competition, meaning that it doesn’t mind if we fade away. I have a big problem with that.”
A familiar engine sounded outside the tent. One Jonah knew very well, and for a few seconds, he relaxed because it gave him a feeling of home, hearing Henry’s truck pull up and park. Except he knew someone else, a stranger, had gotten out of it. Jonah even recognized the way the truck vibrated the ground so knowing it was out there, even under such shitty circumstances, comforted him. Regardless of who had been driving. That was more than a little confusing.
Then he felt boot steps vibrate through the ground as more men jumped out of its bed. The familiar voice of Perry belted out orders, and then, seconds later, he eclipsed the opening of the tent, shoving the flap aside like it was an annoying bug. Someone outside held it open. When Perry saw Jonah, a menacing half smile appeared through his thick salt-and-pepper beard.
This can’t be good, Jonah thought.
Frox held a hand up, obviously a command that the men wait. He turned back to Jonah. “Enough existential discussion. Here’s a revised deal. Just tell us where your supplies are, a precise location, and I’ll allow you to live.”
“You’ll let me go?”
“No. That’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible, Dietrich.”
“That’s not true. You out there somewhere means it’s impossible to trust you won’t harm any of my people. Unfortunately, you’ll have to stay with us and work. But you’ll be alive. Isn’t that what really matters?”
Frox really means it. Jonah had been lied to enough times to recognize the difference. The answer to Frox’s question was yes and no. “Doing what?” he said.
“I’ve yet to determine that. Now, the location of your supplies, so my guys can get there quick, load up, get back safe, and get it all over with.”
Whatever that entailed would not benefit Jonah and his people one bit. So, because Jonah had nothing else to say, and Frox could obviously sense that, he turned and nodded. Perry and other men who appeared behind him walked into the tent.
Perry looked down at Jonah as if he were an Infector he was about to squash with a heavy steel-toed boot. “You’re the one we were looking for, fucker. You killed our people. I know it was you. Where’d you put the bodies?”
Jonah gave Perry’s big round shaved head a thousand-yard stare.
“Probably close to home, huh?”
As Jonah and his friend Eric had learned during their brief stint in college, some guys just couldn’t take a joke. With Perry’s bulk, obvious strength, and bullying demeanor, Jonah already knew hardly anyone had ever challenged him physically. Who would? But Jonah was also betting hardly anyone had ever messed with his head.
“Hey dumbass, your fort doesn’t have a roof,” Jonah said.
“What the f—? Forts don’t have roofs! You’re the dumbass.” Perry was clearly ready to become angry. His temper continued. “Think you’re the only one who can track? We were waiting for whoever it was who killed our people. Turned out that was you.”
A bluff. Perry knew nothing for certain. Jonah had been ambushed, but they hardly knew anything about him, and he was going to keep it that way. For all Jonah knew, Perry was only fishing for information so Jonah might slip up and admit to something they only assumed he’d done. Jonah decided to ask Perry a question he already knew the answer to. That way, he could continue to evade their questioning.
“Does your fort have a bathroom?” Before Perry could say anything, Jonah said to him, “Never mind. Not like you’re in charge.” And as Perry was reacting to that, Jonah said, “Frox! Let me retain a little dignity. Let me piss on some snow before we go wherever we’re headed.”
“Again?”
“That was hours ago. I got a weak bladder. I admit it. It’s my only weakness.”
Frox grinned at him and nodded to an underling. “Sure. But you dash, and you know what will happen.”
“I thought we covered that.”
“Just wanted to remind you.”
One of them clipped the plastic zip tie holding Jonah’s hands together behind his back. It was the third one put on him since he had to urinate the first time and uncomfortably tighter than the last. Once off, the tension vanished, and his hands warmed with instant relief. He brought them around from behind him and massaged his sore wrists, cracking his knuckles and shaking his hands out as if they were sorer than they actually were.
“And remember this, too,” Perry said, taking a confident step closer to him. “You try anything, do anything stupid, and I’ll punch you so hard you’ll go into the past. That way, you’ll forget your lies, repeat them, and that’ll give me the chance to knock your dumb ass out again.”
Jonah snickered and stood, still having to look up at him. “Speaking of stupid, how long have you been waiting to say that to somebody?”
“Oh, I’ve said it before.”
“I bet you have.”
Perry smirked. “Run. Go ahead. I actually want you to . . . so I can shoot ya . . . or one of these guys will.”
“No shit,” Jonah said, still massaging his wrists, allowing them to think he was actually recovering from pain he couldn’t handle. “I’m not going to run, dummy. Just gotta piss. Pay attention.”
Perry’s smirk grew into a broad smile that was a sharp contrast to his murderous posture. Perfect, Jonah thought. But he also realized how dangerous some plans were, or aspects of them, like provoking a dangerous man like Perry because he looked like he was debating strangling Jonah to death.
When Jonah walked out of the tent, he didn’t realize how stiff and sore he actually would be. He hadn’t been thinking about it, but it was from sitting in one position for so long. The entrance of the fort—Jonah thought of it as the exit—had been the only thing on his mind since he came to. There were armed guards everywhere, above and on the ground, but he noticed their focus was outward so that no one, and nothing, could get in.
If he made his move now, realistically, because of his previous immobility, it would only be an unimpressive fast jog at first, so he moved as slowly as they probably expected someone who had given up to do. Jonah didn’t have to urinate; that had been a lie, one of a few lately. He’d already been allowed to go a few hours before, and his bladder felt empty, but he still made his way to the closest bush.
It was the one nearest to the open tailgate of Henry’s truck, where Perry had placed Jonah’s machete along with his other belongings. Put there for everyone’s safety. It was a good distance away, about thirty feet or so. As Jonah assumed the position to relieve himself, he spun rapidly and then sprinted for it.
“What the hell are you doing?” Perry shouted. “We got guns, you idiot!”
Already there and turning toward the angry voice, Jonah ripped the machete out of the sheath and flung it. Perry quickly ducked but it still managed to clip his ear—Jonah had been aiming for his throat—and then it sunk into one of the trees that held Perry’s fort together. Perry’s ear dripped blood, and Jonah was soon seized by men who’d surrounded him.
It was what Jonah had been expecting to happen, but he thought there was a slim chance he’d spot an opportunity to get away because it would be so unexpected. What kind of lunatic who wanted to live would risk his life by running with so many guns aimed at him and no way out? Someone like Jonah, who was trained to rely on instincts, that’s who, and now he was positive they weren’t going to kill him yet.
They were going to use him for the Draw, and remaining defiant would allow him to possess his secrets longer. That had only been the backup plan, though. Running away, simply, was his best opportunity to escape because if he made it to that tree line, they’d never find him. And anyone who set foot in there after him would be a dead man.
Except he’d failed.
“He’s a fucking animal, he is!” Perry roared, holding his bleeding ear. “Look what he did to my ear!” he said to Frox.
“I was aiming for your throat,” Jonah said with as much cockiness as he could muster. He would never miss an opportunity to agitate an underling. Even one of Perry’s size.
“Yeah? Well, you missed, cocksucker!”
