Decoy and Retrofit: Chapter 3

The cabin was quiet when Griffin woke.

He stretched his leg, scratched at a bruise. He felt warm for once. He hadn’t realized he was warm until now. Griffin had spent the past two days being cold and bare-legged in October. But now there was something blanketing his legs, a coat keeping them cozy.

This wasn’t his coat.

Griffin knew his own coat. It was the only part of his wardrobe that he actually wore on a regular basis, before he got the duty of dressing up as a fifteen-year-old girl. His coat was an old bomber, soft and dull and barely waterproof.

This coat smelled different. Nostalgic, like baked bread, like homework, like Nirvana CDs and packages in the mail. Like sex.

Griffin couldn’t help it. He took the coat into his fist and inhaled. He breathed in so hard that he felt himself go lightheaded, dizzy with the scent as it overwhelmed him.

It was Noel’s. It was more than Noel, it was the Noel Griffin remembered. It was the arrogant voice in the back of his head. Every memory that swilled around his mind came with his dismissive tone, the deep rumble of his voice that Griffin could hear through his bedroom walls.

He could tell from that feeling in his chest, that tightness, that he was getting carried away. Noel was probably nearby, keeping watch in case Atlas decided to scream around the corner with their mobile tank fleet. Noel was probably being responsible and rational while Griffin slept under his jacket and sucked his scent down his throat.

Griffin made himself put the coat down, sit up straight, and take a deep breath of air that wasn’t swimming with hormones. He breathed in, and then out.

It was still dim outside. Through the truck windows, Griffin could see soft morning light illuminating their cold campsite, the burned-out fire pit, the stain of blood from their deer carcass on the grass. Noel was curled up on the ground, leaning against a stump, his arm glowing lazily through the material of his shirt.

Griffin felt his mouth twitch. Idiot. Not only did he spend the whole night outside, he gave Griffin his coat. What an idiot.

Griffin kicked the door open, and then froze.

There was a bear in the campsite.

Wait, no. It wasn’t a bear. Griffin hadn’t seen anything like this animal in his life, massive jaws, enormous claws, hunched over like a cougar. It crawled around the campsite, loping around the campfire like some kind of blurry sasquatch video come to life.

Griffin took another second to recognize that he had seen this before. It was the frozen tourist wardog. Except it wasn’t frozen anymore.

Slow-rolling realization shuddered through him.

Griffin didn’t move. He breathed through his nose, willing his pulse to slow, staring at the back of Noel’s head as the wardog circled around the dead fire.

He had to get Noel away from that thing.

Griffin blindly scrambled for the truck keys. They were tucked between the seat cushions, but he could feel them. If he could start the truck, drive in, and grab Noel to hightail out of there, that might be a solution.

He gripped the keys from between the seat cushions and pulled. They came out, jingling softly around his fingers. Griffin clenched them in his fist and glanced up to see if anyone had heard.

The wardog’s mouth was pointed dead in Griffin’s direction. Griffin felt his breath halt in his chest.

Then it charged.

Griffin lunged forward, seizing the truck’s door handle in his fingers, and pulled it as hard as he could. The door slammed shut with a thunk, a second before the wardog punched straight into the side.

The door buckled in and the truck tipped, reeling sideways with the force. Griffin was knocked right back, smashing against the horn before landing flat on the driver’s side door. The truck rocked on two wheels before slowly falling back down on four with a crash.

Griffin panted, staring at the window. A boulder-sized dent had caved in the metal of the passenger’s side door, the window cracked violently. He gasped, feeling pain radiating through his shoulder, hearing the sound of snuffling beyond the door. The sound of claws on metal screeching through his ears, a rhythmic squeal as teeth gnashed against the door and punched their way through.

Griffin scrambled for his rifle, knocking the windshield wipers on with his knee, jumping behind the cab seat as the window shattered. A muzzle jutted through, teeth dripping with drool. Griffin’s fingers scrabbled for the grip, pulled his rifle to his shoulder as the wardog writhed forward through the broken window, clawing into the cab–

Which was when a blue hand darted in from out of sight and planted firmly on top of the wardog’s head.

“Down, boy.”

And with a noise like metal being torn apart, the maw of the wardog left the window and slid out of Griffin’s vision.

Griffin hit the floor of the truck cab before he realized it, slamming down to a knee, clutching his rifle to his chest. He heaved air down his lungs, cold sweat dripping down his temple, his legs shuddering. He felt nauseous.

Noel.

Griffin was back on his feet, vaulting over the seat. He pulled the gun up to his shoulder and peered through the shattered window, tension winding through his chest.

Noel was standing there in the grass, his glowing, blue alien arm pressed down on the massive jaw of the wardog.

Griffin stared. Noel’s eyes were focused on nothing, and the blankness of his expression was jarring. He didn’t show any sign of being in front of a living bioweapon that had been out for blood seconds ago. He was silent and distant, with nothing human in his eyes.

The wind blew, rustling the grass. Noel’s hair rippled over his eyes. Griffin felt his heart slam against his ribs.

And then Noel’s hand shone a fraction brighter, and Griffin steadied his weapon in his arms.

“I can smell it, too,” Noel suddenly said, breaking the silence. “Where’d you put it?”

“Huh?” breathed Griffin. “What?”

“Deer, Griff.” Noel’s voice sounded faded coming out of his own mouth. “I asked where you put the deer carcass.”

Griffin stared at Noel’s hand, pressed down against the scales, centimeters away from the canines protruding from the creature’s jaw. Noel hadn’t said anything. “In the woods,” Griffin answered shakily. “Behind the fir.”

“Yeah,” Noel said, shifting his weight. “I know. It’s dead, but–yes.”

Griffin stared at Noel and then at the dog, not knowing what to do. Noel stood still and straight, unfocused and off. The dog sat down on its hindquarters, letting out a snort through its snout. Griffin waited, ready, at the door to the truck.

And then the soft glow subsided. Noel stumbled back, reaching his human hand up to push against his forehead, pressing the heel of his palm against his scars.

“God.” He blinked, and Griffin could see his eyes slip into focus, dark and sharp and on him. “God, Griff–”

Noel was running over to the truck and opening the smashed door. Before Griffin could stop him, he clambered into the cab, brushing aside broken glass with his alien hand. Griffin stumbled back, landing on his ass on the driver’s seat, breathing hard as Noel reached out to take his face in his hands, looking into his eyes like he was suddenly the most important creature in the universe.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Noel breathed, tilting Griffin’s face in his hands. “Did you fall at all? Cut yourself?”

Griffin shook his head dizzily, not knowing where to put his eyes besides into Noel’s, sinking deep into the pits of his irises. “I’m fine, Noel. I’m fine.”

Noel let out a breath, leaning back onto his heels. He was so big compared to Griffin, towering over his frame. When he leaned in, Griffin couldn’t see anything besides the breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest heaved with every breath. “God, that was close,” he said, brushing hair away from Griffin’s face.

Griffin managed to break the spell, craning his neck around Noel’s waist to see outside the cab. “The dog–” he cut out. “What’s the dog doing?”

“It’s fine,” said Noel. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It tried to ki–it attacked me, Noel,” Griffin gasped out. He was distantly aware of how tight his fingers were on his rifle, how his knees were bare and shaking in front of him. “What is it doing–”

“I don’t know,” said Noel. “It’s okay. Griff, can you breathe for me? Slowly, okay?”

Griffin nodded, still breathing shallowly. He was distantly aware that he was probably in shock. That was why his head was fuzzy, his thoughts clouded, his limbs shaking. Noel’s arms were coming around him, pulling his jacket over his shoulders, swathing him in warmth.

“Sorry,” Griffin gurgled. “This is stupid.”

“This isn’t stupid,” said Noel quietly, soothingly. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t know how many times I should have died, this is so stupid.” He was babbling now, but his mind was just open, fluttering pages in a book left out in the wind. “And now I have a fucking panic attack.”

“Griff.”

“I fucking shot two people dead yesterday,” Griffin choked out. “We blew up a convoy and now I decide to lose it.”

Noel’s expression twisted sharply. Griffin looked away, closing his eyes.

***

He didn’t know how long it took before the nausea in his stomach faded, the dizziness in his brain leveled off, and his vision stopped swimming. He sat in the cab, swaddled in Noel’s coat, the cool breeze brushing at his hair and cooling the skin on his legs.

Noel had left at some point, and Griffin could hear him walking around, his boots crunching against the ground as he made his way around the campsite.

Griffin curled his fingers against his thighs, stretched them out, curled them back in, coaxing the circulation back into his fingertips.

Proceed to Chapter 3, page 3–>