Sanctuary: A Remaining Universe Novel, page 1
Copyright © 2024 by D.J. Molles Books LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Tara Molles, AI generated images
ISBN Print Paperback: 9798877989399
First edition 2024
Contents
The Remaining Universe
1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1
3. Chapter 2
4. Chapter 3
5. Chapter 4
6. Chapter 5
7. Chapter 6
8. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 8
10. Chapter 9
11. Chapter 10
12. Chapter 11
13. Chapter 12
14. Chapter 13
15. Chapter 14
16. Chapter 15
17. Chapter 16
18. Chapter 17
19. Chapter 18
20. Chapter 19
21. Chapter 20
22. Epilogue
A NOTE FROM D.J. MOLLES
About The Author
ALSO BY D.J. MOLLES
The Remaining Universe
It began with a bacteria called Febrile Urocanic Reactive Yersinia. When exposed to a host’s blood or mucous membrane, the bacteria would burrow holes through the frontal lobe, destroying the host’s ability to reason and speak.
The FURY bacteria spread so rapidly that it burned itself out in a matter of months. But by then, the damage had been done. 9 out of 10 people had been infected by it. Many of those infected experienced a massive spike in their metabolic rates, causing them to feel insatiably hungry. Due to their damaged frontal lobes, these infected turned hyper-aggressive, and preyed on anything they could get their hands on--including other humans.
After a year, most of the infected died out due to starvation and exposure. But of those billions, a few were gifted–or cursed–with genetics that favored extreme adaptability. These individuals not only survived, but began to thrive. Their bodies underwent a period of macroevolution, resulting in morphological changes that made them better suited to be an apex predator: elongated forelimbs, hardening of the fingernails, widening of the mandible, and lengthening of the canine teeth. These came to be known as primals.
Three years after the plague first swept the globe, it was discovered that the primals were not only breeding, but doing so at an alarming rate. A female primal’s gestation was estimated to be 3-4 months, and their offspring were able to move independently within a day. After a single year, they were large enough to be dangerous, and mature enough to reproduce on their own.
The primals began to form large colonies capable of overrunning human settlements that were previously considered secure. Reports began to surface, claiming that the primals were being led by females whose physical mutations were not as extreme. As human settlements began to fall to these massive primal colonies, another trend was discovered: All the men were killed and eaten. But the women were taken alive.
The pieces began to fall into place: the primals were taking human women and forcing them to breed, creating half-human and half-primal hybrids. These were the matriarchs whose physical mutations were not as extreme. It was a survival strategy, designed to establish a leader over the colony with all the strengths of a primal, but with increased cognitive abilities.
Over the following years, more hybridization between the primals and humans occurred–most often forced, but in some cases, willingly. This continued hybridization has resulted in individuals who look mostly human, except for their larger-than-normal teeth and jaws, claw-like fingernails, and propensity for extreme violence. With one-quarter or less of primal genetics in them, this new breed of hybrids are able to reason, and even speak.
This new off-shoot of homo sapiens is viewed by most to be a threat to human existence.
But to a few…well, they’ve kind of become friends.
Prologue
Shay did not want the thing that came out of her.
It did not summon within her even the tiniest breath of maternal instinct. Not like she’d felt in all those years working as a midwife. All those times when newborns would cry and tremble and nestle into their mothers, and make Shay’s ovaries feel like they were tying themselves in knots.
But this was not a baby.
This was a…thing.
An it.
She hated it. And had begun to hate it the second she’d felt it moving in her violated womb. And perhaps even before that. Perhaps she’d even begun to hate it when she’d missed her period, only four months ago.
Four months?
How was that even possible? How was this thing even possible?
None of her experience in midwifery had prepared her for this. Not the strange, abbreviated, and agonizing pregnancy. And not the abomination that it had brought out of her.
She had always wanted to have a baby of her own. She’d just never found the right guy to settle down with. As her thirties had crept towards her forties, she’d considered artificial insemination. But she’d kept holding out for that right guy to come along. Kept putting it off, and putting it off. And then it was too late.
The plague came, and society and all of its medical marvels went away. Nine out of ten people were infected by it and turned into animals. Or at least that’s how they acted.
It burrows through the frontal lobe, they’d said—those few newscasters that’d been holding out for some real scientific information on the plague, instead of the rampant speculation they’d been vomiting for two months straight. And then there was no more news.
The plague burned itself out within a year. But by then, the damage had already been done. There was no going back. And Shay had to concern herself with survival, and let the long-held dream of being a mother die, stillborn in her chest.
Stillborn. Which is what this thing should have been.
Four months, she thought again, bewildered, sweating, and in shock—a shock both physical and mental. Deliriously, she remembered her own cutesy, sing-song voice, telling expectant mothers that, at four months, their little darling was about the size of an avocado.
But the thing that had grown inside of her had done so with alarming speed. And painfully. Stretching her insides in ways that the human body was not evolved to handle. She’d bled almost constantly as a result. At two months, her distended belly looked like that of a woman six-months pregnant. At three months, she looked full term.
Which was impossible. And yet, it had happened.
Impossible that the thing that came out of her should be alive. But it was. And more than that, it was developed far beyond what a newborn human should be. It did not cry—it yipped like a small dog. It did not squirm helplessly about—it was already crawling, the umbilical cord still tethered to Shay. The thing opened fully functioning eyes and took in its environment with a dazed sort of curiosity.
A mutant, Shay thought, gasping with revulsion and jerking her leg violently away from the creature as it laid one of its grossly long-fingered hands on her skin.
A mutant, just like all the mutants currently huddled around her, barking and growling and muttering. Because the plague had not just burrowed through the frontal lobe. It’d also done something to their genetics. Lengthened their arms. Hardened their flimsy human nails into dog-like claws. Widened their jaws. Extended their teeth.
A flash of lightning lit the rain-swept night outside. It strobed across the bestial faces of the mutants huddled around her, illuminating their eyes like spotlighted animals.
And she saw him coming through their midst. The King Mutant himself.
Khan. She thought of him as that, because he reminded her of Shere Khan, the bad-tempered tiger from the Jungle Book. Massive, and cruelly muscled. Skin far blacker than Shay’s own brown complexion, so that he was just a huge shadow that loomed large, frightening the other mutants out of his way with little more than a deep growl and a rumbling chuff.
He wanted to see what Shay had produced. Wanted to see the thing that had come out of her. Because he’d been the one that’d forced it into her. And for that, she hated him more than all of the others that had kept her captive these long, nightmarish months. And it made her hate the thing she’d birthed even more.
The body that Shay had been leaning against shifted as Khan moved through the darkness towards her. She tried to brace herself to keep her head from hitting the stone floor, but pain lanced through her abdomen when she activated the stretched and ruined muscles of her core. She cried out and collapsed backward, the impact to the back of her skull setting her ears to ringing.
It was the Queen B that she’d been leaning against. And no, not Bee, as in honeybee. B as in Bitch, for that is what Shay called the creature in her mind: the Queen Bitch. Sometimes even said it to her face, though she didn’t know how much language the Queen Bitch understood. Sometimes she seemed to understand a lot. Other times, not so much.
Queen inserted herself between Khan and the thing still scrambling unsteadily about between Shay’s legs. Khan halted with a throaty grunt.
Queen scooped up the newly-birthed creature, pulling it away from Khan and forcing it into Shay’s unwilling arms. Then she turned and planted herself in front of Khan, sitting on her haunches, as though to block his path.
Shay drew her head back, horrified as the thing that had come out of her thrust its malformed face into hers, it’s oddly adult-like hands pawing at her. She did not want this thing. Would sooner abandon it than nurse it—not that she could, as her confused body had produced no milk. Then she thought about killing it with her own hands. Felt revolted by her own desire to do so, but couldn’t deny the relief she would feel if it was no longer alive.
A deep, threatening growl snapped Shay’s attention back to Khan.
Seemed it had the same effect on Queen, because she wilted a bit as Khan stood up to his full, towering height, his long, thick arms swaying back and forth, the tips of his clawed fingers raking the stone-tiled floor.
No! Go away! Shay wanted to scream. Don’t let him get close to me!
But she knew better than to get loud when Khan was there. The fact that he hadn’t ripped her apart already was, Shay knew, a miracle. She was nothing to him. Nothing but a womb that had fulfilled its usefulness to him. And now, perhaps, she was just something to eat. She knew that he had only kept her alive this long because he wanted the thing she’d just given birth to.
Or, at least, wanted to see what it was.
Male or female?
Shay hadn’t even noticed. Had no desire to check. For four months, her presence had only barely been tolerated by him, though Queen seemed to have developed a sort of affection for Shay, and would often lay with her and groom her, and mutter soft syllables that had no meaning to Shay’s ears.
But Queen’s apparent affection for her did not mean she would risk Khan’s rage. Khan—and all the other males in the troop—obeyed their matriarch, seemingly out of instinct. But Khan was still the alpha, and the balance of power between him and Queen B was complex to the point of often feeling fragile.
And at this moment, Khan’s curiosity was insistent. It held the threat of violence.
Perhaps it was Shay’s own birthing screams that had gotten the troop so riled. Perhaps it was the scent of blood and afterbirth in the air. But the tensions were high, and the natural order of the matriarchy seemed a flimsy thing now. If Queen didn’t get out of Khan’s way, he was going to hurt her.
And apparently Queen knew that too. Because she snarled at him, but shuffled to the side.
On he came, lowering back down to all fours. Shay didn’t dare to move. Didn’t even dare to look him in the eye. She had learned a lot over the four months of being held captive by these beasts. Learned a lot about how not to piss them off.
Khan snatched the thing out of Shay’s arms, causing it to squeal like a pig as he held it upside down from its legs. Then he sniffed it. And looked at what was between its legs.
A male, Shay noted, distantly.
Then Khan roared and flung the thing back at Shay. It yelped as it hit her in the chest, legs and arms scrambling, but seeming unhurt. Only frightened.
The huddled mass of mutants erupted into snarls and barks, jumping about and jostling violently into each other. Khan stormed away on all fours, thrashing through their midst, snapping at any other creature that got too close, though they all gave him a wide berth. He shot across the room to where there was something breakable—an old wooden chair—and smashed it to splinters in seconds.
And then he was roaring and charging back at Shay, and she knew this was it, knew this was when Khan was finally going to tear her apart, just like she’d seen him do to the other people she’d been with when they’d made the mistake of coming to this place.
She cried out, shoving the newborn creature away from her, feeling the umbilical cord pull taut, pain lancing through her belly. She didn’t care. She kicked with her legs, trying to get her shocked and exhausted body moving again.
But then Queen was there again. She stood right in Khan’s path and roared back at him, her teeth bared.
Khan was not impressed. Only more enraged. He slammed into Queen. Smashed her to the ground. Bit her savagely in the shoulder. And Shay knew that she was next. But she couldn’t get her body moving again. Could only kick her legs and flail her arms, but the rest of her felt numb. Paralyzed.
Except her heart. That was thrashing violently. Like another mutant thing that was trying to get out of her.
But the second that Khan bit the troop’s matriarch, something happened.
Every female in the troop came hurtling in, jaws open wide, baring their teeth, snarling and barking. They surrounded Queen, and though they did not attack Khan, he drew back from their sudden ferocity, and their sheer numbers.
Yes, Khan could rage all he wanted. But the troop was still a matriarchy, and the females stuck together.
Queen staggered to her feet, holding her injured shoulder, letting out a nasty hissing noise as she drew herself up. She and the dozen females stood their ground between Khan and Shay, and the thing she had birthed.
Khan’s shock at being challenged dissipated in an instant, and he flew into another rage, but this one was impotent. He roared and thundered and pummeled his fists against his chest, and then against the ground. Caught some unlucky male that had not retreated fast enough and hammered both massive fists down on the thing’s back until it scrambled out of Khan’s reach, yelping plaintively.
Shay didn’t know how it had happened, but she suddenly realized that the thing she’d birthed was cowering in her arms, mewling softly. And she was holding it. Cradling it. Shielding it from Khan’s violence.
She realized this. And she didn’t let it go. Even when its worrying hands dug their little claws into the flesh of her breasts—even then, she didn’t let it go.
Khan’s fury eventually petered out, and he stood there on the other side of the protective wall of females, huffing and glaring at them.
Gradually the anxious hooting of the others tapered off, and all was silent, save for the distant grumble of thunder, and the sound of the wind and the rain outside.
Queen stood there for a moment longer, staring down the beast across from her. Then, very slowly, and very deliberately, Queen raised her head and issued a long, eerie howl.
Shay was no expert on all their strange vocalizations, even after being trapped with them for four months. But she’d heard this howl before. It meant that they were going places.
The response was immediate from all save Khan and Queen herself. Every other creature that belonged to that troop went to all fours and began loping away, draining through the door on the other side of the room, and out into the stormy night.
Khan and Queen remained there for a moment longer, staring each other down.
Breathlessly, Shay waited to see what Khan would do now that Queen was not protected by her retinue of females.
But the howl had been made, and there was some instinct in all of them that moved them to obey—even Khan.
With one last snort and a giant huff, he spun and dashed after the others and out of the room.
Then it was just Queen, and Shay, and the thing in her arms, which had fallen silent, save for its soft breathing, warm and moist in the crook of Shay’s neck.
The Queen Bitch turned and looked at Shay for a long moment, and Shay did not know how to interpret that look. It was too dark to see much besides the whites of Queen’s eyes, but another pale flash of lightning lit her face, and in that tiny little glimpse, Shay could have sworn she saw something like sadness.
Queen offered one, low hoot. Almost mournful. Almost as though to say, Goodbye, friend.
And then she was gone with the others.
And it was just Shay, and the thing that had come out of her. The thing she didn’t want. The thing now nestled in her arms.
The thing which Shay still had not let go of.
Chapter 1
“Oh, motherfucker,” Bran wheezed, jerking to a stop, one arm around Kat, leaning on her.
Well, let’s just be honest: She was holding up most of his weight.
Kat tried to pull him back into motion, but he hissed and planted his feet.
