Desolate The Complete Trilogy

Ten



Once again, she caught the scent trail too late. Once again, she was tardy for the kill and would go hungry. The teasing coppery scent of blood hung heavy in the air as she wavered, knowing it was no use trying to get closer to the kill. Dozens already fought over the scraps and it would be over in seconds. It wasn’t worth getting injured.

She got her hopes up when she first noticed the trail. It had been days since her last kill, a skinny and foul-tasting feline. It was the fresh flesh of man she craved, and when she smelled not one, but two, she squealed in anticipation. That’s when the screaming began and she knew it was too late. She was a fool to think she was the only one to pick up the trail, and now that the prey called out in fear, others would be on them in no time.

As the frenzy died down and the fortunate ones left satisfied, the unlucky, slow, and weak moved forward. They searched for an overlooked scrap of meat, a single drop of blood, and found nothing.

She turned away, disappointed and frustrated. Something would have to change soon or she would go hungry and fall to be sustenance for the stronger ones. She had already fed on some of the weaker ones herself, but it was man she was after. The sweet taste of flesh and bone, sinew and entrails.

She spent the rest of the day roaming the outskirts of town, giving up on man for the time being and searching for lesser beasts. She found and killed a rat that only made her hunger worse. She was just about to give up and turn back to shadow the others, and hope to profit from their fortunes, when she caught another scent.

It was extremely faint. She wasn’t even sure if it truly was the scent of man. She got low to the ground and breathed deeply, opening her mouth and tasting the air with her tongue. Yes. It was there, in this…no…the other direction. Getting stronger. Two of them. Two scents of men, side by side, intertwined in a delicious concoction of sweat and dander. She moved slowly down the road, keeping her face to the surface for fear of losing the trail. She clucked in anticipation as it grew stronger and then…stopped.

The trail went cold, right at the very spot of tarmac beneath her. She squealed in frustration, stomping her feet and spinning, desperate to find the trail again. She was so upset that the other scent mixed with the man went unnoticed at first. It wasn’t quite as strong, but steady nevertheless, leading down the road from where the trail went cold.

It was the scent of one of those machines, the machines that gave man such an unfair advantage, a layer of protection and incredible speed their unprotected bodies could not match. So the trail did not go cold. It was the scent of the machine she needed to follow. It was difficult, since the parts that touched the surface left considerably less stench than the scent of man, but it was there. She could follow it.

She headed down the road slowly, careful not to veer from the trail for fear of losing it altogether. She passed others just as hungry and desperate as she was.

They watched her for a moment before deciding to follow. No scent of man was nearby but this one was on the trail of something. With nothing to lose, they decided to follow.