Wolves

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The third day of the sky pelting rain was when Xavier Rodriguez felt the first tingle of annoyance. Over the years, he had become a very patient man. Trekking across the radioactive wastes for the better part of a decade allowed him to claim patience as a virtue. But by the fifth and sixth day of rain, his patience was nearing its end.

He hated being cooped up in a boat, and the new storm brewing overhead wasn’t helping his mood any. Sitting around gave him plenty of time to think. There were still moments of deep anger and resentment when he reflected on those ten long and perilous years on the surface. For hours at a time on the journey, he found himself either lost in his thoughts or jerking away from the nightmare images.

Lightning webbed across the horizon—a welcome distraction from the memories. Each rumble of thunder shook the Sea Wolf with a gentle vibration.

X sat in the control room, eyeing his enameled mug on the dashboard. The precious contents sloshed inside, blending the tea spiked with good old shine from the Hive. Miles, his trusty Siberian husky hybrid, sat on the floor, muzzle on his paws, crystal-blue eyes glancing up every few minutes.

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