The People's Alpha ✔

Epilogue: Muswellbrook

It had been easy to evade capture. He had planned for this scenario long before. He had a duffel bag hidden in the undergrowth at the place near the riverbank, downstream of the falls, with his things. Crossing the border had not been hard. It had helped that there were few photos of him in circulation, and that he looked like your average middle-aged chartered accountant, if there was such a type.

He walked through the weeping willows, the sunlight filtering through their leaves, illuminating the ghostly muted shades of the Australian bush. The grass beneath his feet was yellow and short, littered with dead leaves and twigs.

He still had access to his bank accounts. The New Carinthian authorities had swooped not long after the final showdown, and while they'd closed most of them, they'd never found the Swiss one. It was easily enough for him to never work again in his life.

He stood on the banks of the river Hunter, as he did every day, looking around, nostrils upturned. He couldn't detect anything nearby, apart from the smell of humans not too far off. He thought nothing of it. There were bound to be humans near here in the nature reserve near here. Probably just some tourists on a walk. Nothing to worry about.

Once he was certain that nobody was near, he took off his clothes, laying them in a neat pile in the fork of a tree. With practiced ease, he crouched down on all fours and drew himself into a trance. Bones cracked. Hair rippled. Skin split and opened.

Before him, the slowly meandering river widened into a big lazy pool, ringed by the bare earth banks, and some stubbly reeds.

The water was murky from European carp and recent rains. He looked at the reflection of his wolf. He looked around the banks of the river. There was a spot that looked well-trodden, with some fresh marks. But he couldn't smell anything suspect, only the smells of the local wildlife. He knelt down to drink from the muddy water, in a quiet spot protected by reeds. The water tasted good, but there was an odd taste to it, something familiar.

He looked at the reedbed. There were some dead reeds at the base of the cluster, poking out of the water, Surely...

He barely had time to react when the water erupted into froth and a wet thing with fangs seemed to explode from the water, snapping at his neck, dragging him into the murky water. They thrashed in the shallows by the reedbed, churning up the mud on the riverbed, rendering the water into an opaque froth. He fought against the wet, dark beast. He had almost had it under him at one moment, but to no avail, as it overpowered him and pinned him down on a water-worn buttress of a weeping willow.

Now that the beast had calmed down somewhat he could see that it was one of his own kind. Brown fur. Green eyes.

What do you want? Who are you?

His link was a command, But the other wolf seemed not to notice at all.

Who I am doesn't matter. Not any more than who you are matters to me. You have done unspeakable things. And now you must pay for them. His eyes were cold.

I never gave any orders. It was Stevenson. I had no idea what he was doing.

He wanted power in return for his role in securing you the pack leadership. You sold your soul a long time ago, Adlai. All for glory.

How did you find me?

I thought I'd never find you, you know. But I knew you had some assets elsewhere. So I got my old friends to do some digging. And guess what? A rural smallholding in Australia, under a subsidiary of a shell company. Who'd have thought.

The jaws of the other wolf clamped down on Adlai's throat. He felt his blood seep into the water, droplets of red blossoming as they emerged into the muddy water, swirling, dissipating with the flow of the river. There was a lot of blood. And the flow was getting heavier by the minute.

Please. I have money.

It's a bit too late for magic words.

There was nothing in those eyes. Or at least nothing that he chose to reveal. It was the same look that he had seen in Stevenson's eyes, sometimes.

The world descended into darkness. 

***

The trailhead was deserted, save for a rented Toyota RAV4 with Queensland plates parked in the margins.

Herman emerged from the trees in the undergrowth, dressed in a polar fleece vest, long-sleeved khaki shirt, shorts, woollen socks and hiking shoes, carrying a hiking pack with what appeared to be a tent strapped to it, looking for all the world like a typical city-dweller, here for a weekend of camping. His wet hair was covered by a baggy hat. A closer examination would have revealed a number of gashes on his face and body.

A campervan pulled up to the trailhead, parking next to the Toyota. The elderly couple waved to him in greeting as he entered the car. He waved back. He unloaded the hiking pack into the tailgate and got into the car.

He sat in the driver's seat for a while, thinking about the week he had spent preparing for this. The research. The phone calls. The redeye flight from Wythaven to Dubai and then to Sydney. The week of living in a cheap motel near the town centre, driving out every day to a park that abutted Adlai's property, watching from a distance as Adlai went about his daily schedule, going down to the river for his daily walk. He was a man of habit. It had been his downfall.

He perused the map of the local area the helpful lady in the information centre in town had given him. They had a good souvenir shop there. He might pick something for his neighbours back in Copenhagen Town.

He started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. The dirt road was rutted and not in very good condition. He turned onto the main road and sped up. 

Adlai had chosen a good spot to disappear to. The weather was good here. It had been raining when he had left Copenhagen Town a few days ago. It was probably still raining there.