“They say we need ‘em to protect us from the Humans, but the Humans don't got beef wit' us. They got no problem with Betas. We’re only a lil’ different from ‘em, ya know? It’s the Alphas and Omegas they want gone ‘cause they’re the ones with all the fucked up mutations.”
“So, what? We go live wit’ the Humans?” the young Beta asks, blowing a long puff of smoke into the air, his gaze sweeping across the scrub in front of him.
I duck my head, pressing my forehead to my folded arms and steady my breathing. It’s dark enough that the shadows should hide me, but Blaze always reminded me that Alpha and Omega eyes have a subtle glow. My purple orbs might give me away.
“Nah, fella. You t’inking too small. We don’t gotta leave…” he takes a drag. “Them Alphas and their bitches do.”
I lay as still as I can and listen as they talk shit about their neighbors and the price of a good breeding goat.
"We better head back or me Ma will ‘ave me ass. She don't like me out after dark, not since those military guys came 'round lookin' for troublemakers. She's got me on a curfew in case they come back."
They finish their cigarettes, dropping them into the dirt and twisting the heel of their boots into the red glow.
"Righto, fella. Let's get ya back to ya mama's teat."
The doors slam shut, and the engine roars to life. The headlights illuminate the area, and I clench every muscle to hold myself as still as possible.
The truck lurches forward, the wheels skidding on the dirt. Once it's far enough away, and I'm alone with the shadows, I crawl onto my hands and knees.
The world really is falling apart.
Demi-humans are turning on each other.
The truck bounces and rattles slowly down the dirt track, and I follow its movements back toward the town while swiping the steady trickle of blood from my forehead with my sleeve.
When it comes to a halt outside the nearest house, I smile.
Finally, some good luck.
If I'm even luckier, those idiots will leave the keys in the truck.
I creep closer, using the surrounding scrub cover, and watch as they disappear into the town.
I'm so close now, I can hear the rumble of chatter and the clinking of glasses, even muffled laughter.
The truck is right there, gleaming under the rear-porch light of a house set further away from the others.
My body trembles with anticipation.
This is it. This is my moment.
I slowly approach the truck, keeping my steps light and silent, just like Blaze taught me.
I place my palm on the driver's side door and pause, listening.
No footsteps.
No sound.
I turn the handle and cringe as the door squeals open on rusty hinges, and I clamber in.
My fingers tremble as I search for the keys. They're not in the ignition, so I check the console, then the ashtray, under the floor mat, and finally the sunshade.
Nothing.
"Fracking hell," I hiss under my breath, hitting my palm against the steering wheel. I try to keep my frustration and disappointment at bay.
A twig snaps behind me, and I freeze.
