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The smell came back to him first. The sour scents of sweat and grime. The desperation and fear stinking up their prison, sinking into his clothes and digging into his flesh. Then, the sounds. A soft, muffled sobbing came from an omega lying next to him. The exhausted breaths of people waiting to die. The senses built on top of each other, layer by layer, stimuli by stimuli, until Max was back in that shipping container. Pressed up against that same door. Waiting to be fucked so that he would be fed.
Faint light filtered through speckled holes, pinpricks of light that looked like the trails of bullets raining down, giving just enough illumination for the omegas to glimpse each other’s dead-eyed stares.
Max reached down and touched his own chest. Something felt cracked and broken. When he raised his hands back up again, it was flecked with crimson and glass, sticking out of his hands like pins in a pincushion. Something hurt. Something hurt a lot, and Max started to heave. He felt like he was about to sick up.
He can’t be back here again. He repeated those words like a mantra, but no matter how many times he tried to force himself awake, he couldn’t. He heaved again, the panic starting to overtake him.
On the very edges of his consciousness, however, somebody spoke. Max held onto that voice, clinging onto the softly spoken tone like a liferaft. When he looked up, he was expecting to see that omega again. The one that had always kept speaking reassuringly, up until the day he was dragged off by the raiders.
Instead, he found Isaac’s obsidian black eyes, with a smile that would have melted any metal. “You’re safe,” the omega said, and Max laughed there and then because he knew it was a dream the moment Isaac spoke. His desires shaping his voice into words he had wanted to hear all his life. But even despite his bitter laugh, Max couldn’t help but attach himself to the omega’s words and softly muttered voice.
“You’re alright.”
Max cried a little at those words. His chest felt warm, but he didn’t understand why. He had had this dream before. He had had it countless times. Max had never cried in those dreams where he had been dragged off—fingers digging in the dirt, his throat tearing itself to shreds at his screams—with the raiders, but now it was something entirely out of his control. Max felt that his body had never been so foreign to him.
The words Isaac spoke had nestled in his core, spreading warmth. For a moment, Max was frightened of the thawing in his chest.
But Isaac kept speaking, and he let the soft words carry him away. Something filtered through the dream, the smells of an omega. He breathed it in deeply, burrowed into it, and found that he had only teared up more at the comfort the scent brought.
Somewhere outside of his head, outside of the shipping container, outside of everything, quiet voices spoke. Soft words he couldn’t understand.
Is… is he alright?
Shh. He’s fine, Nick. Just having a bit of a nightmare.
Something scratched at his scalp, and Max could feel his body relax.
You’re fine, aren’t you, sweetheart? Shh. You’re safe here. Go back to sleep.
He heard Isaac hum a soft, breathy melody. Before Max would catch the last note of the song, however, sleep had already embraced him again. This time, the shipping container was no longer there.
When consciousness filtered in again, slowly bringing Max out of the comfortable abyss of sleep, he jolted awake once he realized the time. Fading sunlight was cascading through the window and into the small bedroom. Max shifted around, only to find that nobody but him was present. It must have been in the afternoon by now. He had almost slept through an entire day.
His brain was slow to start, the fuzziness of sleep still tainting the edges. Stretching his back, Max yawned quietly before noticing the unusual absence of the room. He could hear the crackle of fire outside, and soft mutters of conversations outside the RV walls, but otherwise Max had been left alone to his slumber.
Was this another test? Was he going to be punished for sleeping so late? If they wanted Max to do something, they would have woken him, right? Usually, a pack would at least leave a beta to supervise a new omega to make sure they didn’t try anything. Had he gained their trust so quickly?
Max belittled himself for that last thought. He shouldn’t assume the pack did things a certain way. He needed to be ready to accept any punishment and learn from them. Learning how a pack operated was almost half the battle.
This pack especially. Max still hadn’t quite figured out the hierarchy of the pack. Nick and Logan were the alphas, which meant that at least one of them must be the pack’s leader, but Max had also noticed how Isaac acted around the others and how he was the one often giving orders as well. As for the other members, Johnny and the other betas must have proven themselves to have gained the amount of sway they had within this pack.
If Max didn’t know better, he would have said that sometimes this pack didn’t seem to have any leaders at all.
He pushed himself up from the mattress. It was more difficult than he thought. The mere act of standing up left him breathing hard, and the gravity of his own weakness threatened to drag him down to the mattress again. The world still spun lightly as he stepped outside the tiny bedroom.
Besides the doorway to the bedroom stood the shelving unit. Piled up on top of it was a navy blue jacket, with thick wooly socks and a green beanie placed gently on the jacket. The same clothes he had worn yesterday.
But the most important item was the pad of paper that the pack had used yesterday to communicate, the sharpened pencil trapped between the sleeves of paper.
Max reached out, almost protectively, for the pad of paper before stopping himself. He had no idea if these items were meant for him. What if he did something wrong and they… and they took the paper and pencil away from him? He felt his anxiety rise at that. Maybe it was something he could earn. Max was good at being good for others. Obviously, the food had to come first, but once Max had gained their trust, maybe he could be allowed this privilege.
But what about the clothes? He had worn it yesterday, but only because Johnny had given the clothes to him with the permission of the alpha. Clothes, Max knew, were definitely something that was earned. Including his shoes, which on a second glance, Max found beside the shelving unit.
Perhaps the pack displayed these items for Max as a goal for him to work towards? Usually, the only goal Max had to work for was the continuous supply of food. The things piled up in front of him were definitely luxuries. He swallowed. Max wondered how good he had to be to earn these things.
Maybe it was best that Max ignored them for now.
He walked past the items, folding his hands out of habit. It was important that nobody thought Max was doing anything he shouldn’t. When he opened the RV door a crack, he peeked outside.
The RV had moved on from the gas station once the entire place had been scoured for anything useful, which was almost nothing. Only a can of dried fruit hidden underneath an empty shelf. Max can just about spot the road from where they had driven from between the tree trunks. Other than the change of scenery, it was a familiar scene. The cooking pot over the fire, and the smell of something delicious wafting out of it. The pack sitting, laughing together. The sound still sounded foreign to Max’s ears.
It was just like when he had seen and heard them the first time when he was still trying to decide whether or not to trust this pack.
He could see Johnny smile as Wes spoke, and Logan flicking Wes’ forehead with a chuckle. Pete was drinking something that he poured into his bowl with a ladle. Nate and Isaac huddled close together, their backs facing Max.
Seeing the pack together like this, Max felt like an intruder.
But just as Max was about to close the door and retreat back into the RV—ignoring the sudden pang of hunger he felt at the smell of food—Isaac’s head perked up and turned around, spotting Max, his eyes zeroing in on him faster than Max could react.
Sweetie! You’re finally awake! Isaac stood up and closed the gap between him and Max quickly. Nick grumbled slightly as Isaac left his side.
You’re not getting jealous are you, Sarge? Wes said, a teasing tone in his voice that Max picked up on.
Nick huffed, a small smile on his face. Nobody smelled angry at how late Max slept, or at being disturbed.
Opening the door Max was hiding behind fully, Isaac stepped into the RV, immediately crowding the little space Max had to himself. He stood back a little, pressing himself against the wall to give Isaac more space as the omega stepped inside. Why aren’t you wearing the jacket? It’s cold today. Come on.
The omega led Max back to the bedroom doorway. Picking up the jacket, Isaac handed it to Max. He stood there for a few seconds, waiting for permission, before Isaac nodded and smiled approvingly at him. Once Max had finished putting on the jacket, Isaac handed him the woollen socks and beanie in quick succession.
Once Max finished putting on the other accessories, Isaac pushed the shoes next to his feet.
Max looked up at Isaac with wide eyes. He hadn’t done anything to earn it yet. They must still be testing him.
Max shook his head, smiling up at Isaac. He needed to be good. “It’s fine. I’m grateful for what you’ve given me already.”
Max. Sweetheart. You can’t go outside without shoes. The omega’s expression didn’t change.
Max looked at the shoes, then at Isaac. There was a long period of awkward silence. He swallowed thickly, before Max pointed at himself questioningly. “Is this…”
Isaac continued to smile, but Max noticed there was a strain to it now. His heart stuttered. Was he doing something wrong?
“Do you… do you want me to wear it?” The words Max said came out a jumbled mess, but the astonished way he said it must have carried over. He didn’t understand why the pack just allowed him to have this. It didn’t make sense. Max hated it when it didn’t make sense. He was being good, wasn’t he? He was showing them that he wasn’t going to be a liability. Max would be happy with what he already has.
Max heard somebody walking closer, the light footsteps indicating that it was Johnny. Isaac, the thin omega spoke softly. He doesn’t know why you’re handing him his shoes.
Isaac seemed confused at what Johnny said. It’s his shoes. I’m just handing back his shoes.
Johnny stepped inside the RV. Heading deeper into the RV to give the two space, Isaac left Johnny and Max in the RV doorway. Kneeling right there and then, Johnny gestured for Max to raise his leg.
Once Max did, the other omega helped Max slip on one of his shoes.
“Are you sure?” Max said.
Johnny nodded.
Max nodded, taking the approving tone Johnny had in his voice as confirmation. Max raised his other leg and watched numbly as Johnny helped slip his other shoe on his feet.
It just didn’t make sense.
“Why?”
Johnny didn’t respond. His hands gently gripped Max’s wrist and brought his hands towards him, palms facing upwards. In one smooth motion, Johnny dropped the pad of paper the pack had scavenged yesterday into his palms, before cradling his hands over Max’s and closing his hands into a hold on the object. This is yours.
“I can’t—” Max tried to open his hands. Johnny didn’t let him.
This is yours, Max.
Max shook his head. He tried to open his hands again, but Johnny’s grasp was firm. When he looked up at the other omega, it was like he was a different person altogether. Something smouldered behind Johnny’s eyes.
“Okay,” Max said, nodding his head.
Johnny smiled back, nodding his head as well. He released his vice-like grip and stepped outside. Max could smell the fresh air blowing in and detect hints of pine and winter in it. Somewhere behind him, he could smell Isaac’s scent as the omega approached him.
He didn’t even flinch when Isaac placed a hand on his shoulder. Cradling the pad of paper, tucking it exceptionally carefully in the inner pockets of his jacket, Max finally stepped outside. The RV walls had sheltered Max from most of the cool wind, but now they whipped at his face like lashes.
Our boy’s finally awake!
Isaac guided Max to his seat next to him. Isaac’s bulk managed to act as a shield from the wind. Max felt a quiet relief at not having to sit next to the alphas.
Hip hip hooray? Wes smirked off from the side.
Pete scowled at Wes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. Get up and do something useful, Wes. Max still needs to eat.
You’re the one starving him, Wes said, pointing an accusatory finger toward the doctor.
Pete huffed. I’ve already explained myself to you, Wes. Liquids only for now.
Not even a teeny tiny bit of meat?
Wes.
Max discretely glanced off to his side. Wes and Pete seemed to be fighting about something. The two of them were locked into a staring contest, with Pete’s glare combating Wes’ smirk. After a moment, however, Wes deflated. It seemed that Pete had won their wordless exchange.
Not even a punch was thrown. Max felt himself relaxing as whatever tension the two betas had faded. The two betas in his last pack had always fought over who got to use him second. Whoever lost would always be extra rough, purposely wringing out pained sobs from Max like a wet rag, soothing their bruised egos.
Max blinked. His hands had balled up unconsciously. He released it quickly. Alphas could interpret it as a sign of aggression.
Fine. Whatever. I guess you’re the doctor here.
That’s right, Wes. Pete drawled. I am the doctor here.
Pete brought out another bowl and poured in hot, steaming broth. Max’s mouth watered, but he tried not to look at it. It was only when Pete stood up and walked closer to the bowl that Max allowed himself to look up.
The bowl was only half full. Max was expecting them to put it to his lips again and hand-feed him. He had thought that was how they had trained the omegas. He wasn’t expecting Pete to push the bowl into his hands and just walk off.
Is this the pack’s way of telling him that Max needed them to survive? It made sense. The pack feeding him more when he was handfed would train Max to associate the pack with food. It would teach Max to be loyal and pliant and good , as well as all the other traits that Max needed to survive. The pack giving him half a meal instead of none proved at least that they wouldn’t starve Max in his training.
Probably.
Distantly in his thoughts, Max scoffed at the image of Isaac needing such training. He would probably have just strolled up to the alphas and punched their lights out. He shuffled a bit closer to the omega next to him at the thought.
“Thank you.” Max’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the pack’s volume seemed to decrease to accommodate for it, even if they couldn’t understand it. Max felt self-conscious at what must be a random jumble of sounds tumbling from his lips, but the pack seemed to appreciate his fruitless efforts to communicate. Isaac had always smiled at him when he talked.
Max looked up at Isaac, waiting for permission. The bowl was pleasantly warm against his fingers as he sat there.
Is he going to drink it? Nick asked.
Come on, sweetheart. Max took Isaac’s smile as approval. Hesitantly, he brought the broth to his lips. The broth was salty, with a meaty flavor in the liquid that hinted at the meal the other members of the pack must have had. Finishing the broth with a small sigh, he muttered another “thank you” as he continued to hold the bowl for its warmth.
After a moment, he lifted his eyes to meet Isaac’s, who looked constipated. Max frowned. Was the other omega okay?
Would pinching his cheeks be bad? It would be bad, wouldn’t it? Nick? Oh my God. You gotta talk me out of this. He’s so adorable.
Nick peered at Max from beside Isaac. Maybe just stick to ruffling his hair, Isaac.
Max sat there, shielded from the wind thanks to Isaac, and listened. The wind howled, whistling between tree trunks with bare branches. Johnny spoke, his soft, willowy voice mixing together with Wes’ boisterous laughs. It was one of Wes’ laughs that had given this pack’s position away when Max was still living on his lonesome.
Max blinked. Everything felt a bit distant. Unreal. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and opened them. He tried telling himself to wake up—like that had ever worked. This was real, wasn’t it? He couldn’t have daydreamed something this vivid and good if he was dying of starvation in a ditch somewhere. The scents were too real.
His hands unconsciously slipped inside the jacket and brushed against the pad of paper. Today was nice, he thought. Nicer than it had been for a long, long time.
Max?
Max looked up, the voice breaking him from his trance. His glazed eyes focused back on the world. The voice came from Isaac, who was holding another bowl of broth.
“Um. Yes?”
Isaac gestured at the bowl of broth. The rest of your meal.
Isaac was showing him a bowl of broth. Max nodded his head. “It’s a bowl of broth.”
Isaac held the bowl in one hand as he raised his other hand in a cupping motion, glancing meaningfully at Max. Max copied the motion, which was when Isaac placed the bowl in his hands.
Drink. Isaac imitated drinking from the bowl.
Max blinked. Okay. What the fuck was happening.
Um. Drinking? You didn’t think you were only getting half your meal, right? Isaac’s face looked a bit pained.
Max’s mind whirled. It was obvious what Isaac was trying to tell him to do. Max just wasn’t sure if it was another test. He was so sure that this was another one of the pack’s training, because what would be the use of just feeding Max? For no reason?
For sex? But they said—
Well, it doesn’t matter what people say, does it? He can’t understand them anyway.
But they did say it. And they haven’t broken their promise yet.
Then what else? What other reason was there for feeding him? Max was just a scrawny, half-starved omega that would have died if they hadn’t taken him in. What other reason did they have for saving him?
Maybe they were a cult, Max thought hysterically. A cult that just treated omegas really nicely, and spoke to them softly, and gave them a place to sleep and eat. Those were the sort of crazy things that would spawn from the end of the world.
Isaac opened one of his palms and imitated writing something down on his palm.
Did he do something wrong? Why did Isaac want to take his pad of paper away? Max cursed at himself in his head. Who was he to question what Isaac or anybody in the pack did? The pad of paper was theirs, just as Max was theirs. All of it was just property.
Max nodded and took out his pad of paper gingerly, handing it to Isaac.
Isaac started to write, using his leg as a solid surface to write on. Aren’t you going to finish the rest of your food?
Isaac pushed the pad of paper back into Max’s hand, taking the bowl of broth from his hands and placing it on the ground so that Max could write.
I don’t get it.
Max scowled at his sloppy handwriting. His birth pack had taught him to read and write, just not well. In contrast to Isaac’s, his sentence looked like it was written by a child. Another thing he didn’t realize he was lacking before encountering this pack. He didn’t know if they would care about his handwriting, but Max made a mental note to improve it just in case.
What do you mean?
Max underlined ‘the rest of your food’ in Isaac’s sentence, before writing more. I haven’t done anything to earn it. What you’ve given is enough. Thank you, sir.
What?
What, Isaac? What did Max say? Wes looked concerned. Max scented the air. Nobody was angry yet.
He says he ‘hasn’t done anything to earn’ the food.
Jesus. Pete looked angry, but also concerned. Max tried to shrivel up and hide from the man.
Isaac, with a frown, wrote You don’t have to earn anything, Max.
Max didn’t get it. Wasn’t this all training? Why would a pack waste food on an omega they found? Why would a pack waste food on him?
The pack were all speaking to each other now, and Max could barely decipher the tones of each voice. They were obviously discussing something, but the talk wasn’t charged by any emotion. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Johnny whisper something in Pete’s ears.
Pete said something to Isaac, his voice level. Isaac’s only indication of what he was feeling was a slight nod Isaac sent in Pete’s direction.
What do you think we were doing?
Max swallowed. His hand dropped down to write before he pulled it up again. Max didn’t know what to do. Answering the question could lead to him angering one of them, but Max knew that not answering when prompted always made people angry.
Gingerly, he pressed down his pencil. Training? The word was faint.
Isaac added a few more question marks to his question. Max felt frustrated. Wasn’t this the entire point of how they fed him?
You give me half the food. If I’m good and patient you give me the other half. Max went and underlined the word ‘training.’ It was the only real explanation as to why the pack was feeding him without Max contributing anything.
Isaac still seemed confused. “I’m sorry,” Max said. “I don’t know how to say it better.”
Isaac must have asked a question after that, but nobody responded. The scent of the pack smelled anxious. He looked around the clearing. Wes and Logan looked shocked and a little bit angry. Nick, off to the side, looked perplexed. Pete only looked tired.
And then Max locked his eyes with Johnny’s.
The skittish omega walked up and glanced down at the pad of paper. Max, seeing the request, gave the pen and paper to him.
Johnny scribbled something quickly, his handwriting cramped but neat. No training. The two words were underlined three times and were bigger than the rest. Pete said you can’t eat too much or you’ll get sick, since you were starving.
Pete said something. Johnny nodded, before tacking something on the end of his sentence. Refeeding syndrome. Can be fatal.
Oh.
So it wasn’t…
He thought it was some sort of sick hazing ritual? Wes asked, his scent smelling anxious.
It wasn’t very common before the collapse, Johnny said. He paused, looking into the fire. There’s nobody to hold anybody accountable anymore.
Max fidgeted with his jacket zipper. He looked up when he heard Isaac approaching behind him. His mind was still trying to wrap around the concept that he would just… get food? Everything had a price. Max knew this. You don’t just get things for free.
Max didn’t know how he could possibly repay this.
Here, baby. The omega handed him back his bowl of broth. Drink up.
The bowl was still warm. Isaac pointed at Max, before miming drinking from an imaginary bowl again to get the message across.
He still didn’t get anything about this pack.
Slowly and hesitantly, Max drank the broth. Trying to maintain eye contact with Isaac and the others to make sure that, yes, Max could drink it, while never lingering his gaze on any particular person longer than a few seconds.
Wes actually cheered once he started drinking the broth, startling Max, which earned Wes a quick flick of the forehead from Johnny.
Max took a moment to savor the salt and the luxury of heated food. Smoke from fires was dangerous enough, and most certainly a death sentence for a single omega like him living in the wild. Hell, it wasn’t like Max fared any better in his previous packs, even before the world ended. He had lived off of whatever scraps they fed him.
Sometimes they didn’t. Max remembered curling up on his mattress, face haunted with pain, arms twisting around his stomach like tree roots. It had felt like something was eating him inside out. He couldn’t even remember what he had done to earn the punishment.
The broth passed through his taste buds and traveled down his throat. He felt warm. Under the lining of the jacket and in his woolen socks, almost hidden behind Isaac’s figure, Max felt protected. Safe.
Was this how packs were supposed to feel?
Gathering the empty bowls around the campfire once he was finished, Max saw Pete about to say something before thinking better of it and handing Max his bowl. Johnny, despite obviously being higher on the pack hierarchy than Max, helped him gather the rest of the bowls and mugs from Nick, who had scarfed down his meal quickly.
As Johnny headed inside to retrieve the spade, Max looked down at the bowls and mugs. Flecks of meat clung to the side of the bowls he gathered. It was as if something overtook his senses. A screaming impulse to reach down and finish the scraps of food. They wouldn’t miss it, right? It was just scraps.
They fed him today, but would they tomorrow? Or the tomorrow after that? Max had no value. He would be the first to go once they ran out of food.
The RV door opened. Max saw Johnny step outside, spade in hand.
Max looked away guiltily once Johnny’s eyes settled on him. The skittish omega always seemed to know what he was thinking.
Max dug the pit while Johnny gathered dry grass to wipe down any residues present on the bowls and mugs. He had to take tiny breaks in between his digging, however, when his arms shook from the effort of holding itself up. Johnny shot worried glances, but Max ignored him. Gathering his strength, Max pushed on until the job was done.
Dumping the leftovers and burying them, Max and Johnny got to work washing the bowls and mugs. The bustle of the camp weaved its way around the omegas, an intimate tapestry that spoke of how close-knit the pack was. Everybody seemed to know exactly what to do.
While washing the bowls, Max always took a few seconds longer than Johnny. He took in the sensation of warm water running off his hands, and how nice it was when his hands were submerged in it. Johnny, with a small knowing smile, copied him, dunking his hands in the warm bucket of water as well.
Max blushed. “It’s just water,” he mumbled before taking his hands out. He felt a bit childish. The heat from the water was dissipating fast in the cold air.
In a slow motion, Johnny’s hands carefully inched towards Max’s scar: The burn on his right forearm, ugly and garish like always. Forever a blot on his skin. Max felt some secret satisfaction at that.
A repeat of yesterday’s events flashed through his mind. Max didn’t exactly freeze, but he grew still.
Max didn’t try to retract his arm, and Johnny didn’t try to stop inching forward. The omega’s fingertips traced the scar, following the serrated and melted edges, leaving traces of warmth where his fingers touched.
They shared a moment, huddled there.
Max leaned closer to Johnny and whispered as if sharing a secret, “Never again. That’s what it means.”
The statement stirred mixed sentiments in himself. Never again, no matter the cost. Max wondered how far he would have gone to ensure his own freedom if he had refused to join this pack.
Johnny withdrew his hands. He brought his own arm forward and pointed at his skin. It was peppered with little punched-out craters of scab and dead tissue. Max could recognize them. Cigarette burns, Johnny said with a sad smile.
The burn scars looked uniform.
Johnny reached out toward Max’s hand before stopping just an inch or two away. It was shaking somewhat. Can I…
Max nodded. Johnny’s hand was still warm. Their fingers twined against each other, a grounding hold that held the two of them together.
Eventually, Johnny spoke, his quiet voice almost fading into the background noise. I couldn’t do it. Even when they grew more and more horrible. I was more scared of what was out there, waiting for me, than what I already grew accustomed to.
Johnny’s breath hitched. Max held their hands tighter.
You’re strong. I know you’re strong. I wish you could see it for yourself. You escaped. You survived. I never could. It was luck that they found me. His voice had dropped to a volume smaller than a whisper. I’m not… strong, Max. I wish I could be as strong as you. I wish someone like you could have been there for me.
I want to be strong for you. We won’t be alone anymore.
Max nodded, not understanding a word, but he could tell when Johnny’s anxious scent suddenly cleared up. It felt like whatever Johnny had said to Max both was and wasn’t meant for him to hear. A weird, liminal, confession.
“Are you feeling better?” Max asked. Whatever the omega had said, it looked like he needed it.
Johnny was still holding Max’s hand, though the warmth from the dishwater was fading. The skittish omega nodded back.
Max smiled.
Wes! Johnny spoke excitedly, almost vibrating in place. Wes, are you seeing this?
Wes, leaning against the RV wall hummed a note of acknowledgement. Yeah, yeah. I’m seeing it.
He’s smiling!
Wes narrowed his eyes, raising both his hands and forming them into pretend-binoculars. A cheeky smirk was played up on his face. Yup, he is, he drawled.
Are you seeing this?
You’re starting to sound like Isaac, Johnny.
Max shot Johnny a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”
Oh my God. He even tilts his head when he’s confused.
Instead of giving Max an actual response to the question, Johnny gave him a quick hug before handing him back a pad of paper and a pencil. It was open to a new page with the words You didn’t ask for it back. It’s yours written on the very top.
“Oh, I… thank you.” Max slipped his tiny notebook back into his jacket pocket. As he did, he had to break the handhold he and Johnny had. He felt a twinge of longing for the warmth before shaking it off.
So, are we ready to move again? Johnny asked, following Wes into the RV.
If it weren’t for a glance and the welcoming smile that Johnny gave him, Max would have waited outside. It was probably for the best anyway. It seemed like it was Wes who was supposed to watch over Johnny today, just like how Nick watched over him yesterday.
Max felt a tiny stab of disappointment that the pack didn’t fully trust him yet, but it was ridiculous to expect any pack to give their full trust to any omega they picked up off the street. Remembering his gaunt and starved face in the mirror, Max huffed. No matter how pathetic they looked.
Soon. Nick and Isaac are just finishing their scouting. They’ve been extra on edge after Max appeared. It isn’t every day that somebody gets the drop on both Sarge and Cap. Wes chuckled, smiling warmly at Max. The two sat in the booth, the orange sunlight bathing them in an almost heavenly glow. He could see the dust motes drifting gently in the air.
Max slid in neatly after Johnny.
Logan mentioned that he wanted to check out a town on the way to Kansas City. It’s on the smaller side, all things considered. Only a day or two away as well.
But we aren’t out of supplies yet?
Not yet, but soon. There aren’t a lot of opportunities to resupply further up ahead. We don’t need much, just enough for us to get through the final haul. Then we either all blow up into little smithereens, or we get hailed as heroes. Wes laughed at the end of his sentence. There was barely any warmth in the sunlight anymore.
Ugh. You have a terrible sense of humor.
Just trying to ‘lighten’ the mood up. Don’t go and have a ‘meltdown’ over it. I’ve been told my jokes are pretty, uh, ‘nuclear’?
Johnny glared at the beta, though the omega didn’t smell upset. Only fond.
Enough, Weston.
Wes saluted. Sir yes sir. I can tell when I’ve ‘bombed’ it.
Johnny rolled his eyes. Anything else?
Well, Pete and Logan were debating whether or not they should take the risk of resupply when we don’t even need it yet. Last I heard, the two stormed off to get Isaac and Nick’s opinions.
That bad?
Nah. They probably just needed to stretch their legs as well.
So, the fact that you’re still here sitting around means you’re lazy.
Wes stretched out, yawning widely. I just work efficiently, Johnny.
The omega and the beta kept chatting. Max got comfortable next to Johnny once it was clear they weren’t expecting him to respond. Leaning against Johnny, he studied the way the light played on Wes’ animated face.
Somewhere in the back of Max’s mind, he could admit to himself that this was nice. This was really nice. He could smell Isaac faintly in the room. And Johnny had a nice voice. He didn’t know why his brain jumped to that observation, but it was important somehow. He noticed how Wes always smiled. The most common was a sort of playful one, but there were also serious smiles and cheeky smiles.
His fingers started tapping on the table, before stopping. He wasn’t supposed to do that. They never liked it when Max was fidgeting. He had to stay still, or else he would draw attention to himself. He had to stay still, he reminded himself.
Max managed to stay silent and still for some time before it started again. His feet—he had taken off his shoes when he had come in—started tapping. Max didn’t realize until minutes later, when his two packmates stopped talking and were just staring at him. Max stilled suddenly, mortified.
Before Max could do anything, however, Wes whistled. He began tapping his fingers to an unknown beat, joining in the omega’s fidgeting as if it were deliberate. Max’s shoulders relaxed once he noticed that Wes wasn’t angry at Max for making noise.
Finding his rhythm, Wes gradually started increasing his tempo. He bobbed his head to the faint clicks and clacks of his fingers on the table. Finally, as if he had been planning this moment from the start, Wes began to sing.
—But if I grow old, well I know I’m gonna be—
The words were utterly incomprehensible to Max, of course, but the melody managed to transcend speech.
Johnny smiled, his hands and voice joining into the impromptu song as well. The room filled with music.
—I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you—
The song brought back simpler days.
He had heard this song in the store when following his new alphas before, the ones his dam and sire sold him off to. He had felt bitter back then. Max remembered how sometimes, in the coldest and darkest of nights, he had felt glad the world ended. His world had ended when he was sixteen. The world ending again seemed appropriate, almost like the rest of the world was finally catching up. The memory was especially vivid right now. He could almost recall the direct thought process. Six years ago, sweltering underneath the summer heat, naked back pressed against a stranger’s. Bruises that bled on his skin, stretching almost endlessly. Tears of frustration and despair slid down his cheeks, pooling.
He had thought: If his world had ended, then why shouldn’t everyone else’s?
That bitterness stayed with him for the next six years.
Max’s hand sheltered in Johnny’s, holding it tightly. Taking a deep breath, he took a glance at Johnny—all soft smiles and scorching pride for Max — before joining in. A soft, quiet whisper of a melody that combined with Johnny and Wes’ voices.
—But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more—
Wes feigned singing into the microphone, while Johnny mimed playing a guitar.
—Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door.
The RV door swung open wildly at that moment, interrupting the song. We’re back!
Isaac filed in first, followed by Nick. Max could smell Pete and Logan’s scents lingering outside before they also entered the RV.
Are you all having a karaoke session without me? Max’s head perked up at the sight of Isaac. Scooting closer to Johnny, he made space for Isaac as the omega sat down next to him. Logan sat opposite the three omegas with Wes in the booth, while Pete and Nick stood off to the side.
Yup. And we were having so much fun too, you killjoy. Wes laughed at Isaac’s incredulous face.
Me? The killjoy?
Max was singing along, too, Johnny added, looking as if he was rubbing salt into Isaac’s wounds by the look of his pained face.
Isaac leaned his head back to catch a look at said omega. Max wiped the small smile off his face and feigned a serious expression. Isaac sighed loudly before rustling Max’s hair, which he leaned into unconsciously.
A beat. Two beats. The carefree atmosphere they had moments before dissipated like morning mist in the sun. It was Wes, with his slightly worn smile, who spoke first. So, have you all finally decided if we’re going to resupply at the town?
Nick grumbled. I agree with Logan. There won’t be many chances for resupplies further down the road. We should be prepared for whatever that may happen, and taking care of the food supply for the immediate future would ensure that at least we’ll have enough food if complications occur.
Isaac countered with fierce eyes. We have enough to last us to Kansas City, if we’re smart about it. There’s a reason we’re so careful about ‘resupplies.’ Every trip out there is a calculated risk.
Then we’d have to ration the food. Nick said evenly, and before Isaac could say anything else, Nick continued. No, you’re not going on ration. That decision is not going to change, no matter what.
Wes shrugged. Sorry Isaac, but I agree. You’re the one with the baby here. If we’re not going to resupply, then we definitely need to ration. But none of us here are going to put you on half rations if we decide to not resupply.
The entire pack, except Isaac and Max, voiced agreement with what Wes said. Isaac looked sour but didn’t argue with the apparent unanimous decision.
Pete cut into the conversation smoothly. I agree with Isaac. There’s enough food if we ration what we have and continue to scavenge in the wilderness. We know there are definitely supplies waiting for us at our destination, which means that toughing it out for a while is no big deal. Our greatest danger right now would be other people. We can tough out starvation, not a gunshot to the head.
Then what about Johnny and Max? Logan asked.
They’ll continue receiving the same amount. We can cut out half of our meals for them. Pete responded.
The room was filled to the brim with anxiety. The mood in the room was suffocating. Max at least had the comfort of knowing that none of their stares were directed at him, which meant that Max hadn’t done anything to gain anyone’s wrath yet.
That can’t possibly be healthy, Pete. Isaac’s voice sounded strained.
No. It’s below the normal calory intake alphas and betas need day-to-day, but it’s only for a week or two. At most, we’ll only lose a bit of our weight.
Johnny spoke up then, raising a hand. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if my share was a bit smaller. You all need energy more than I do. Nobody looked happy at what Johnny had said, but neither Nick nor Isaac snapped at Johnny for whatever he suggested.
Nick harrumphed once the room became silent. So, who’s in favor of resupplying?
Nick raised his own hand, with Logan and Wes following.
And who is in favor of continuing without stopping?
Isaac and Pete raised their hands. After a moment, Johnny raised his hand as well. Max didn’t understand the specifics of what was happening, but it was clear a vote was taking place. No, what surprised him was that the pack leaders—Nick and Isaac—had even taken into consideration others’ votes at all.
Max was perfectly content in blending into the background before Isaac tapped his shoulder gently. What do you think?
Nick mimed writing on his palm. Max, getting the message, took out his notebook and pencil and laid them out neatly on the booth desk. Nick stepped closer and flipped to a new page, writing quickly.
We’re deciding whether or not to go for a resupply at a nearby town, on the way to Kansas City. Y/N?
When Nick handed the notebook back to Max, his eyes quickly skimmed over the precisely placed letters. He picked up his pen and, reminding himself that this pack apparently liked his questions, wrote: Sorry sir, I don’t get it.
Because it sounded like they were asking him. Max hasn’t even done anything to earn their trust yet, so why were they placing their trust in a random, starving, useless omega they found in the wild?
Max worried his bottom lips. It just didn’t make sense.
He waited for someone to maybe snap at him, or hit him for not understanding, but it was too late to try and erase what he had written now. Nick had placed the notebook on the desk, and now the entire pack was reading what he wrote. Max shrinked a bit into his seat.
Logan was the first one to pick up the pencil. Me, Wes, and Nick think that we should resupply for food at the nearby town because we are running out of food. We have enough for rations, but having extra food is always good.
When Logan was finished with his writing—his cursive flowing into each word like a river—he handed the pencil to Issac.
Johnny and Pete agree with me that resupplying would be too dangerous. There is too much risk involved with scavenging (re: other people). The pack is agreeing to go on half rations. You and Johnny will continue to get normal amounts.
Johnny, reading Isaac’s writing, frowned. Once Isaac pushed the notebook back towards Max, Johnny promptly hijacked Isaac’s message.
You and Johnny * will continue to get normal amounts.
*ISAAC
Wes snickered at that, but he managed to stifle it promptly once Isaac turned his death glare toward him.
From what Max was reading, one side—Nick’s—wanted to resupply for food, while the other side—Isaac’s—thought that scavenging was too dangerous. Both had the same amount of votes. Three to three. The pack seemed to count each vote as equal as well, which meant that it was a tie.
Nick tapped at ‘Y/N’ as Max read through each side’s argument. It could only mean one thing, despite the impossibility.
The pack wanted him to be that tiebreaker. It was a decision. An actual, real decision that the pack was entrusting Max with.
Max didn’t know how to feel. He had joined this pack under the assumption that he would be giving up that ability to choose, because that’s what being a part of a pack had always meant, but here, he was given both a voice through the notepad and an actual voice at the table when making decisions. In the back of his mind, he knew it was unnatural that this pack should somehow value what he wanted as much as what the alphas wanted.
It was overwhelming. It was overwhelming how nice they were. How nice this pack was. And how had Max come across them again? Sheer dumb luck. It had been a miracle to find a survivable pack when he was on the verge of death, and it is a miracle now that they were just so good. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered when he would lose this pack.
Good things don’t just happen to people like Max.
The pack obviously saw something in Max—something that Max couldn’t see—or they wouldn’t have kept him around. He wondered what would happen when they realized that he wasn’t worth the effort. Max knew they wouldn’t kill him. They wouldn’t even hurt him when they did find out. But they would leave Max, and he would be living alone again.
Max knew he could survive, even if only for a while. He had proven it with each day, each month, each year he had spent out there all alone, living in the dark and wet. But despite how much he had tried to convince himself out there that he was all he needed, he never realized how much he missed the feeling of belonging.
Even the tiny scraps of affection his birth pack handed out. Even after everything they did. Even after they had ripped his world apart. He had still found himself dreaming of them.
Something in his chest hurt when he imagined never seeing this pack again. It could be a few days from now before they would realize that Max was nothing but a parasitic tick that sucked at their resources.
A useless worm.
A burden that they had to take care of.
He didn’t know how to be good for his pack. Nothing they did made any sense, and that sense of confusion left him scared. Max wanted to be good. He needed to be good. Or they would leave him, and he would be there, out there, all alone again, even after he painstakingly glued what little trust he had left for packs back together. Max felt something crack and waver at the thought.
He had felt safe, felt wanted, for the first time in his fucking life. The warmth felt nice, but the ice was creeping in now, and Max didn’t know what to do. Somehow, deep in his guts, he knew that something irreparable would break if he was left alone again.
Max thought back to his past. Even before the end of the world, he had always just been a plaything for other alphas. He had been just another disposable toy for his entire life. Max didn’t know how to be anything else. Max didn’t even realize he could be anything else until he met Isaac.
That omega was someone who was extraordinary.
He had almost felt bitter when he saw Isaac had a PhD, a deep, swirling, churning jealousy in his gut. Did an omega really need so much school? But the longer he had held the worn photo, the more he realized that he was also feeling a sense of awe.
Isaac did that, he had thought reverently. An omega did that.
It was then Max realized that between him and Isaac was a gulf that could never be crossed. Isaac was everything, destined for the stars, while Max was stuck in the dirt and roots. That thought had hurt more than anything else. Of course the pack would look up and respect Isaac so much. Who wouldn’t?
Max needed to prove himself. He needed to be good. He needed to show his pack that he was worth keeping around.
He can’t lose them. He just can’t.
Something cradled his face. Max breathed in, and Isaac’s scent flooded his senses. He felt something slide down his face before it was wiped away tenderly. Everything seemed so hazy and distant that for a moment, his internal turmoil was silenced.
A second passed, then another. Max realized his eyes hurt. When he blinked, more trails of liquid spilled down his face. Was he crying?
“I-I’m, I’m sorry I— you don’t have to—” Max sniffled, trying to hide from his pack. Hitching his breath like the pathetic mess he was.
Shh. You’re okay, baby boy. You’re fine. Max let Isaac’s voice wash over him. He tried to stifle his sobs, but it only made it worse. His chest felt like it was close to bursting. Nobody’s going to hurt you anymore.
Isaac pressed closer into Max, hugging him close. Max reciprocated the gesture gently, wrapping his still too-thin arms around Isaac. He clutched Isaac’s shirt, crying into the fabric. “Why are you so nice to me?”
Did we do something wrong? Wes asked, looking frazzled.
No. He just needs a moment. Come on, let’s give them some space. We still have a while to drive before we need to actually make a decision. Johnny stood up, carefully sliding around Max and Isaac in the booth to get out.
Is he… is he okay, Isaac? Nick sounded hesitant and unsure, and Max only wondered what it was that disturbed the alpha this much.
He is. Isaac’s voice was soft. He will be.
Okay, well… Nick smelled anxious. I’ll give you two some space.
Max smelled the fresh, snippy air of the forest as the RV door creaked open, before disappearing suddenly as the door closed. The room was empty, and the outside world seemed a muffled, distant reality.
You don’t like feeling helpless, Isaac said.
Max didn’t know what the bigger omega was saying, but he nodded anyway. It sounded like he was trying to explain something to him.
I suppose none of us do, really.
Max buried his nose in Isaac’s neck. His heightened senses meant that he could almost make out every detail of where the omega’s been. Hints of pine and snow. The faint hues of gunpowder and gas clinging onto him stubbornly. The lingering scents of his pack, so natural to Max by now that he hadn’t realised when he had started referring to them as ‘his.’
But hidden beneath all that cacophony of smells was what Max was looking for. Isaac, pure and whole.
I promise that you’ll never feel helpless again, Max.
“I can be good, I promise,” Max whispered, so soft that he doubted Isaac could have heard it even with how close he was to him. His statement was almost soundless, but the weight of it dragged like chains.
I bet Nick would teach you how to shoot if you asked for it. You okay with shooting bad guys, sweetheart?
Max would go wherever his pack went. Do whatever they wanted him to do.
We can spare the bullets, I think. We have plenty of cans to practice your shooting on. Be the big bad omega that comes to save me, hm? What do you think about that?
“Please. Don’t leave me.”
Hey, did you say something?
Isaac leaned down and Max could practically feel the other omega’s gaze peering down at his shaky body. He didn’t say anything more, only curling up into a more comfortable position in Isaac’s arms. For the first time in what felt like years, Max let his guard drop.
Isaac combed through his hair, the dirt and grease long since washed away. Max let out a satisfied sigh before letting go completely and releasing all his tension from his body. When the last dredges of his panic fled his system, he only felt a deep-set tiredness.
Sleep well, angel.
He drifted off into nothingness.
His mind flickers, and a half-forgotten scene resurfaces from the depths.
Max remembers a campfire, dying flickers of flame whipped by the wind. A small cabin on a hill, flanked by stunted trees. The scent of blood and sex in that room. The texture of the headboard that he had been bound to. The blood-flecked grass hiding the grey matter of a bullet-torn brain.
The memory expanded from there with the fire and omega as the origin. Soon, the sights of a destroyed city came into view, all crumbling towers and ominous smokestacks. The small sizes of those once-great skyscrapers revealed that Max was far away from the city. Bands of packs prowled those city streets day and night. Fighting and stealing and killing for scraps of the old world.
Max had lost track of how many times he had been traded hands since he’d been freed from the shipping container.
He looked down at his hands. Blotches of blood spilled across the back of his hand. Max knew his face must have looked just as bloodied. He held the handle of the alpha’s pistol tightly in one hand, as if afraid it would vanish into smoke if he held it any less tighter. It turns out he had good reason for that fear.
Max blinked, and the world shifted. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in that room. The same stained ceiling and the same peeling floor, with a blurry window to the outside on his right.
“No,” Max muttered. “No. Wake up. You need to wake up.”
His wrists were already rubbed raw. Max tried to struggle free anyway, to no avail. The pain felt real, but the pain always felt real. “I can’t,” Max said, his voice cracking. “I can’t. Please.”
He blinked. The world shifted again, and he was looking up into his old alpha’s eyes, a cruel gleam held within at witnessing his suffering. His figure was imposing, looming, and the shadows of the room seemed to grow like mold on the walls. The man leaned in close to his ear and whispered. Something short. Something threatening. A poison. You can.
He blinked. Now he was in the alpha’s lap, the handcuffs that had chained him to the headboard removed. Max’s heart pounded. He let his shoulders relax, let his tension bleed out. He looked up at the alpha and smiled, slowly lifting his shirt up and feeling at his chest. He knew what he had to do. He had already done this before.
Max started slowly, his hands circling around the alpha’s waist, and drew himself closer. A drop of cold sweat poured down his forehead. His hands reached behind the alpha until he found what he was looking for. In one smooth motion, he had pulled out the pistol the alpha had holstered, hidden beneath his clothes.
Freeze. The world came to a stop. Max was pressed into the alpha. He could hear the slow beat of his heart, could practically see his half-lidded eyes and sultry smile, exuding the confidence of an alpha who had believed their prey conquered.
Max jabbed the gun to the alpha’s chin. The situation had changed. When Max looked up at the alpha, he could feel his relaxed posture change. His eyes had sharpened into anger, an instinctive reaction. He hadn’t realized what exactly Max had done just yet, but he would in his last moments, somewhere between one or two milliseconds, where the sputtering neurons of his brain would register the sight of a broken omega holding his gun and the crack of a shot happening simultaneously.
Max closed his eyes. The thrum of his own anger was beating in his veins, loud like drums. The gun he held whispered of revenge, and for one precious, defined moment, he felt what the alphas must have felt when they were looking down on him. Power.
He pulled the trigger.
When Max opened his eyes again, he found himself next to that campfire again. The dying fire had already gone out, and the stars were starting to come out. Darkness fell on the land like a great beast, greedily swallowing the world. There was still brain in his hair.
He blinked. The world collapsed back into shadows and reshaped itself. Max was back in the room, wrists chained to the headboard. The same stained ceiling and the same peeling floor, with a blurry window to the outside on his right. The same alpha, and gun, and death. Again, and again, and again. A recursive loop of misery where the full totality of Max’s universe consisted only of those vignettes, flashing like a projector behind his eyelids.
He just couldn’t anymore, so in one loop—one of many, one of what seemed like thousands—when he was reaching for that gun on his old alpha’s holster again, instead of pointing the gun at him, he had pointed it at himself. Rested the barrel of the gun on the bottom of his chin. Felt the cold metal of it vividly, and wondered if the heat of the bullet would register in his brain. Hoped darkly that this time it would be his brain stuck in the alpha’s hair.
Max would be free. One way or another.
He closed his eyes. It didn’t feel so scary anymore, but he thought distantly that nothing felt as it should in his dreams. His finger pulled down on the trigger.
Max jolted awake, lungs shivering and gasping for air like a drowned man resurfacing. Max fumbled around in the darkness until he felt someone embrace him from behind. He could still distantly feel the wet splat of blood on his face, but when he tried to wipe at his face, he found nothing.
“Isaac?” Max mumbled. The room they were in was barely illuminated, the only source of light being the moonlight pouring in through the window next to the booth.
Max felt Isaac’s breath on his neck. His breath was still deep and calm. The omega was asleep.
Max blinked. Slowly prying Isaac’s arms off of him, he stood up in the dark slowly. The booth’s seat they had been sleeping on wasn’t that wide, but apparently Isaac and Max had made it work somehow.
The room felt too small somehow. The image of his prison—the stained ceiling and peeled floor, the headboard and the creaky bed—overlaid his vision. Max needed fresh air. Spotting his notebook and pencil still splayed out on the table, he closed the cover over the pad of paper gently and slipped it inside his jacket.
Opening the RV doors, Max could smell the clean air outside, even purer than it had been during the day. The pack had moved during his sleep because the outside of the RV looked completely different from what it had in the morning. Max hadn’t felt cold being held in Isaac’s arms, but now he could feel a distant chill starting to creep up even under his layers.
Max exhaled, a white cloud expelling from his every breath.
He could smell the alpha, Nick, outside. Max turned around to look up at the roof of the RV. He found the man staring down at Max, his face partially obscured by shadows.
That’s right, Max still hadn’t made his decision on whether or not the pack should go for the resupply.
Max didn’t know what compelled him, but the omega had soon found the RV’s ladder, hanging on the back of the vehicle, and climbed it. Reaching the top, he found the alpha surveying his surroundings. The alpha held his rifle gently, finger off the trigger.
Max knew he had to prove himself. It was the only way they would keep him. The resupply offered the perfect opportunity for Max to prove himself useful. He took the notebook and pencil out of his jacket pocket slowly, turning to the most recent page. There were only at most eight or ten leaves of paper, now there were only four to five leaves of paper still empty. The two of them could just barely make out the words in the cool moonlight.
We’re deciding whether or not to go for a resupply at a nearby town, on the way to Kansas City. Y/N?
Max drew a circle around Y, and in a moment of reflection, wrote: I will make it up to you. Thank you sir.
He gently handed his notebook to Nick. The alpha frowned, but when he looked down at Max, his eyes were gentle. You don’t have to, Nick wrote, slightly below Max’s sentence.
Max wished they all would just stop lying to themselves. Everyone wanted something. Max just had to figure out what he could provide. I want to, wrote Max. Please, sir.
He left the ‘I need to’ unwritten and unsaid.
Nick had paused when he read Max’s words. Max could only hope the alpha didn’t write Why? again.
The alpha didn’t. Okay, Nick wrote instead. But drop the ‘sir.’ I’m not that old.
Max nodded, a hesitant smile crossing his features. He was going to dig his nails into this pack, climb on, and never, ever let go. Okay. Mr.
Nick snorted, his face breaking into a Wes-like grin. Max could barely concentrate on anything beyond his quickened heartbeat. Disobeying Nick’s orders, even if only in spirit, was a calculated risk. He noted in the back of his head that his pack liked humor.
God, no. That’s even worse Max.
Max stood there next to Nick, the both of them squinting into the darkness. When Max focused his sight, he thought that maybe he could see a dying campfire and the brain-spilling corpse of his old alpha in the distance. The next blink would always wipe the image away.
Max had killed his last pack. He glanced at Nick, standing guard like a stone sentinel beside him, and wondered if his new alpha suspected.
Do you want to go back to sleep? Nick wrote eventually, before passing the notebook back to Max.
No. I want to help.
With keeping watch?
Yes. Max swallowed, before underlining his previous statement. I want to help.
It didn’t feel like what Max was giving was enough. Glancing up at Nick, his expression was still unreadable. He didn’t want to reveal all his tricks, but he needed Nick to know how valuable he was. The virus gave me better hearing and sight. That’s how I managed to track you without you noticing me.
Max peered up cautiously at the alpha. There was a calculating look in his eyes that Max hoped was his alpha reassessing his worth. The gambit seemed to have paid off. Alright, you can stay if you really want to, Max.
Max nodded, determined. I do.
His legs turned weak an hour or two in, but Max kept himself standing, unflinching despite the cold. Max still had no idea what the pack wanted from him. From all his previous interactions, Max had to conclude that it certainly wasn’t sex. He had offered himself up as the prize, again and again, only to be shot down.
It was both a strand of hope and despair, balanced evenly on a delicate scale, because why else did packs take in strays like Max?
They had said they wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to. Max wanted to believe them, to trust them, but it had gone against everything Max had thought he knew about the world. Most packs would have just taken what they wanted, but the alphas and betas in this pack were strangely reserved in that manner.
It was fucking terrifying. Max felt out-of-depth. Every moment of his new life near the RV felt like guesswork, stumbling in a completely new dark. He thought he had known what he was worth; just another slab of meat to be used. It was like this pack, coming out of a broken, ruined world, was operating on a completely different axis than what Max was used to seeing.
Did they bring the light of the old world—the light that Max had never been shown—into this world, or were they just the light itself? Max felt uncomfortable that he couldn’t tell the difference.
The cold numbed his cheeks. Max stepped closer to Nick. A single step. It would be another half hour before he took another step. Slowly, Max stepped closer until he was leaning on the alpha, listening to the desolate sounds of the night.
The alpha shifted closer as well in response. A part of Max’s mind whispered that it was his alpha’s possessive nature taking reign, that he was on the right track to gaining this pack’s trust. A million different other murmurs and suggestions and inputs. The rest of Max wanted to break down, fracturing under the stress of his constant analysis.
The night shifted into day, the hints of the blue the sky would take during the day appearing over the horizon. Max blinked. The world felt submerged and slow, as if he was beneath a murky pond, sinking. Tiredness seems to have carved its way into Max’s bones and made a home there. He continued to lean on Nick as the two of them climbed down from the RV roof.
Hey, Sarge. How’s the night looking? Wes paused once he noticed the omega next to him. Wait, is that Max?
Overall, it was a quiet night. The only notable incident was Max climbing up to join me, actually.
He did what?
Nick blinked. He didn’t look like he wanted to sleep at the time. By the way, the resupply is a go. Max confirmed it with me during the night.
Max said yes?
He did.
Well, I’ll leave you the honors of telling Pete that. Wes sniggered. He’s not going to be happy when he finds out he lost the vote.
Max was swaying on his feet at this point, but he could still feel the huff Nick gave Wes as the both of them walked away. Climbing into the RV, Max let himself be directed towards the tiny bedroom.
Something in his brain fired up. The images of that room he had been kept in by his old pack, the stained ceiling and peeled floor, came firing up from the depths of his subconscious. Adrenaline woke his mind up, and he acted automatically.
Max flinched, suddenly pushing himself away from Nick. He pressed himself up against the wall, his mind blurry and indistinct, a boundary between dreams and reality. “No,” he muttered. “No, I can’t.”
He heaved, breaths heavy and damp, feeling the vomit rise to his throat before he quickly swallowed it back down. It left a bitter, sour taste in his mouth. He realized his hands were shaking uncontrollably, but it wasn’t as if he could do anything about that. A sharp bitterness infiltrated his emotions. Max could taste it on the tip of his tongue, a tang that reminded him of vomit and blood.
Max’s eyes caught on the holster that Nick wore. The memory of that day he had killed his alpha flashed back into the forefront of his mind. Worse comes to worst, Max had a way out. Nobody will keep him where he doesn’t want to stay.
Then the implications of what he had been thinking of doing crashed through his mind. Max snapped out of his thoughts. Max wasn’t living by himself anymore, but his instincts were still fine-honed on survival as if he still were. He took his surroundings in greedily, trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t there in that room again, that his wrists were free and unchained . The RV door, the comfortable booth, the dusty but cobweb-free window. Nick, who was standing next to him with a frown.
Max looked up, and he knew that the alpha had noticed when Max’s eyes had caught on his holster.
He looked away. “Sorry.”
Nick laid one of his large hands on his shoulder. Max didn’t let himself flinch. It’s fine.
Max took off his shoes and placed them next to each other, before stepping into the tiny bedroom. He sat down on one of the mattresses once Nick gestured vaguely in the direction of the other sleepers. Nick disappeared from the doorway once Max did sit. He could hear rustling coming from the kitchenette. Nick must be putting away his rifle and plate carrier.
Johnny slept peacefully on one of them. The empty space next to the omega must have been where Wes had slept moments before. Logan and Pete slept on the other mattress, and Max guessed Isaac must still be sleeping on the booth. Max tried not to let his anxiety rise, because this pack had already proven they wouldn’t take advantage of him, but it did anyway.
When Nick came back, looming in the doorway, Max flinched and looked back down. “Sorry.”
It’s fine.
Max lay on the mattress Johnny was sleeping on, shaking. “Sorry.”
It’s fine.
He felt his breath stutter when Nick stepped closer, but he only handed him a pillow that had been bunched up against the wall. “Sorry.”
Nick huffed. Climbing next to Logan, the alpha slumped on the mattress and lay down. It’s fine. He didn’t do anything else.
Max turned away from the alpha. He looked up at the ceiling of the RV instead. “Sorry.”
Soft snores came from Nick’s direction. The alpha had already fallen asleep.
Max closed his eyes. Besides him, the soft snores of Nick and the almost soundless breathing of Johnny. Beyond that, the sound of morningbirds and the rustle of leaves. Beyond even that, he could see something resembling a future. In that far-off distant place, he could see himself smiling and laughing with Wes and Johnny. Isaac would be there, standing next to Nick proudly and so unlike an omega, hand draped over Max’s shoulder like a blanket. Pete and Logan would be there bickering over the weather, smiling all the same.
His mind tried to maintain that image, but the details kept slipping out, fading into a pool of still darkness that constantly threatened to swallow it whole. It did. The blackness crashed over Max, rolling out and spilling across his mind like the sea. Max fell asleep.
The wind whistled. The handle of his gun had been coated with his sweat and grime, sunken in mud and blood and detritus. That’s what made it his. He had found his current pistol in the hands of a dead man, the clip long since scavenged by people. The gun he held now wasn’t his, not by a long shot, but it would make do.
Surviving by himself was different than surviving in a pack. It was more guttural. More direct and real. Where Max had relied on his perception to learn the ins and outs of an alpha and the best ways to please them, now Max relied on his same senses to keep his head from being bashed in or from being robbed blind in the middle of the night.
There was nobody to rely on but him, and Max was fine with that. He wasn’t going to go crawling back to a pack now that he’d tasted freedom, bitter as it was.
There were certain things you had to do to survive.
He stepped onto the road. The omega he had been tracking stuttered to a stop. No other scents but that of faint alphas and fainter betas. Max had learned to stay off the road his first week being on his own, when he had seen another omega dragged off by a patrol of alphas. Whoever this omega was, he was inexperienced.
The omega, scenting Max, seemed visibly relieved. Oh, he muttered. Thank God, I thought you were… you were…
Max eyed the pack the omega slung on his back. Inside there were supplies Max desperately needed. The wind that was blowing earlier came to a stop. It was getting colder again. The summers kill one in ten, and the winters wipe out most of the rest that had survived. The ratty omega Max faced clutched a knife in his hand, coated in the sweat and grime of his hands that marked it as his.
Max breathed in. There were things you had to do to survive. Max had to be strong to survive. The thought didn’t make anything any fucking easier. Max breathed out. The omega was becoming wary of his lack of response by now.
He tightened his grip on the handle of his gun. Using one hand to cover the bottom of the pistol to conceal the missing clip, he brought it out and pointed the barrel at the ratty omega. “Drop your shit or I blow your head off!”
All that came out was a jumbled mess, but nobody could mistake the threat in his tone. The omega must have realized that Max was a babel and that there was no chance of negotiating. Max could see it in his eyes, the thoughts running behind it. Would he take the chance with the omega with the possibly loaded gun, or would he chance starvation?
Max waited. The ratty omega’s shoulder slumped. Guessing correctly at what Max wanted, he slipped the bag off of his back and placed it gently on the ground.
Max took a step forward. The omega took a step back. They repeated their dance, Max stepping forward with the omega advancing backwards, until Max reached the ratty omega’s bag. Crouching down while maintaining his peripheral vision on the omega, he opened the bag.
Food. Precious food. Cans of it. Max swallowed, saliva already pooling in his mouth at the thought of glorious food. This would last him at least a few more days.
The omega standing in front of him whimpered. Please, you can’t take… I can share.
Max glanced at him for a moment before shoving the cans into his own pack. The omega took a step forward, but a quick point of the gun sent him stumbling back to where Max wanted him. He shoved every last scrap of food into his pack. Digging his hands into the last can, he could see the other omega starting to cry.
Max zipped up his pack and stood up. He started to step off the road before he remembered the pristine knife the omega was holding.
He turned around. The dirt crunched under his soles as he turned. The ratty omega flinched, and Max could clearly smell the anguish and despair, almost choking on it. It was suffocating. The wind started again, brushing the golden hair of the other omega and revealing his dirt-stained face. Tear tracks washed some of the grit away. I don’t have anything else.
Max looked down at the knife. He gestured at it with his gun. “Drop it.”
Good things don’t just happen to people like Max.
Max choked on his sobs, as if each tear had to be dragged out of him. What had happened to that omega? Dead in a ditch somewhere, starving and alone, like Max should have been. Captured by another pack of alphas. Struggling against the entire fucking world, just like Max, and all he had done was to rip it all away for himself.
Max? Max, are you alright? Johnny rose up on his knees and peered over Max, who was curled up into a tight ball; hugging his knees and trying to compress all his misery to stop it from leaking out. He imagined standing on that street facing Johnny, pointing that gun at him, and he knew deep down he still would have done it. That was the worst part. He knew he still would have done it.
Max wasn’t fucking strong.
He was weak. He felt like a stain intruding on this pack. He had always assumed strength was measured in how much people could hurt each other, but hurting each other was easy. Even Max could do it.
Johnny grabbed one of his sweat-slicked hands, digging it out of its fist to hold it. It’s okay. You know, I used to have the same amount of nightmares you have. Still have them sometimes. You’re okay, Max.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” Max said, his speech muffled, though that part didn’t matter much. He hid his face in his arm.
Through the corners of his eyes, he could see Nick get up. He felt his fear flash through his body at waking up the alpha, but Johnny’s presence calmed that fear somewhat. Shh. You’re safe here.
Nick stepped out of the tiny bedroom and into the hallway before leaning back inside the tiny bedroom. Night’s almost over anyway. Sunrise’s just appearing over the horizon. His speech sounded almost like a suggestion.
Johnny seemed to get what Nick was saying. He gripped Max’s hand tighter, tugging it gently to usher the omega up. Come on, do you want to see the sunrise?
Max didn’t respond to Johnny’s shake.
Johnny reached into his jacket to pull out the notebook and pencil. He scribbled something on it quickly and showed it to Max, smiling gently. Want to see the sunrise? A small drawing of a sunrise was placed on the margins.
Max still felt tired. Had he really fallen asleep in his jacket? He pushed himself up with trembling arms. His eyes hurt, and probably looked bloodshot as well. Some part of him still wants to curl up in his corner and cry, though if he had actually given in to that instinct, he would have died long ago.
The room felt too small.
Max nodded. “Okay.”
Johnny gave him a hand, but it was Nick, hand clasping over both Max's and Johnny’s hands suddenly, who pulled Max up to his feet. Nick’s eyes mirrored Johnny’s concern. Max looked away, suddenly feeling dirty and sick.
Max pulled on his shoes. Johnny was already ready, standing next to him. The RV door was already pulled half open by the skittish omega.
Max stepped outside. Fresh air hit his lungs, the cold air piercing his chest like icy needles. He could feel the cold seeping into his clothes, between his bones and fats, piercing flesh. The chill snapped his mind awake. The slight discomfort of the cold reminded Max he was still alive.
Faint light. The sky was a pale orange, rays that filtered between tree branches. When was the last time he had just stood and appreciated something as mundane as the sun’s rise and fall? They had always been moments of panic for Max, who had to always scramble for shelter when the sun rose.
Nick guided the two omegas, sweeping away snow from a fallen log. Max couldn’t help but think that Nick was there to watch him, like a feral animal that could snap at any moment. Every second Max spent outside destroyed the carefully kept warmth that he had cultivated inside the RV. It was a waste.
Max sat there anyway, staring ahead.
Max wondered what he had looked like to that omega when he had taken everything they owned. Was it the same way Max had viewed his old alphas?
Wes called out a greeting from the side. Hey Nick, what happened to your beauty sleep?
Nick grunted. Max. He had a nightmare of some sort.
Max could feel Johnny freeze up next to him, an uncomfortably guilty expression on his face. Nick must have noticed it too, because he placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder. In a comforting tone, Nick continued to say, It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not you or Max’s fault you have them.
…Damn. Wes shrugged, looking more like he was trying to find something to say to fill in the awkward silence than being flippant with whatever Nick was saying. Um. Quiet night as usual, Sarge.
Good. That’s good. Nick grumbled. Max had to double-check if the alpha showed any signs of annoyance at having been woken up by Max. Logan and Pete are still asleep like a log. And also… there’s something I want to do.
Nick and Wes stepped away from the two omegas. He could hear Nick whispering to Wes. Max felt his stomach drop, but he should have known that this trust he had with them wouldn’t last. Max was dangerous, and Nick was right to be worried for his pack.
He could only imagine what Nick could be saying to Wes right now. Max knew just how observant Nick was. He had probably guessed why Max was the lone survivor of his pack by now. Max would be lucky if he wasn’t killed off during the night. For some reason, however, Max couldn’t muster up any real emotions from that thought.
He was just tired.
Johnny nudged him. Are you okay?
Yeah.
You can be not okay, if you want.
I’m fine.
You’re safe here, Max. Nobody will kick you out if you have a bad day and/or if you mess up. Even if you feel like you’re a burden. This pack isn’t like the other packs. I know I couldn’t believe it at first but it’s true. I know you don’t believe us yet but we will prove it to you.
Max swallowed. It was his turn to ask.
Why?
Why what?
Why did they take us in?
Johnny pauses to think.
Because they could. Because they wanted to.
And Max thought: that was their strength. Not the ability to do whatever they wanted, but the ability to do good on an earth that was so evil.
I don’t think I deserve it, Max confessed.
He had been afraid of the pack at first, but he had been willing to pay the cost for survival. Everything had a cost. Freedom, in a lot of ways, had cost Max as much as survival in a pack had.
Max wasn’t a very good person.
He looked at Johnny. In a lot of ways, they were similar. Almost a reflection of each other. Max could see himself in Johnny in his darkest moments, just as Johnny could see himself in Max as well. But looking at the other omega now, he was foreign.
Johnny had never learned the cost of freedom. How it had felt to be alone. He could see it in his eyes that the other omega was trying to understand, that he could see a part of the picture, but didn’t fully understand this part of Max. The part of himself that had rend his soul apart for a few extra days of food and a knife.
Max was alone.
You did what you had to do to survive.
I did.
Both their words felt empty.
Max sat there with Johnny for a while, basking in the silence. He placed the notebook back inside his jacket. The two omegas and Wes went inside sometime later, with Wes seemingly swapping shifts with Logan. Max climbed into the RV booth, waving a little goodbye to Johnny, who waved back with a sad smile as he stepped back inside the tiny bedroom to sleep.
He could probably tell that Max wanted to be alone.
Max stared at Isaac in front of him. If Max and Johnny were only slightly different, then Max and Isaac were in different worlds altogether. He wondered what sort of birth pack the other omega must have had, and the life he must have gone through. What life could Max or Johnny have had if they were given the same chances?
Max could hear Nick speaking to Logan outside, the two alpha’s voices conversing quietly. They were probably discussing whether or not to keep Max. He kept himself still as Nick’s voice faded and his footsteps started to approach the RV. The alpha entered and leaned against the wall. There were bags under his eyes.
Max looked up at the alpha before shifting in the booth, creating more space to make it clear that the alpha could sit.
Nick didn’t move. Max looked up to find that the alpha was looking at him intently. Like he was waiting for permission. From Max.
Max didn’t really know what he expected, but Nick respected Max’s agreement and followed through with sitting down only when he nodded. The alpha sat down next to him, planting himself near the edge of the booth seat. The two stared at Isaac sleeping on the opposite side of the booth.
The quiet invaded their space. The uncomfortable kind. The kind that oozes and sticks. The thundering kind of silence that made Max feel like he was being dissected and examined by Nick.
Max stewed in the silence until he couldn’t anymore. He took out his notebook from the confines of his jacket. Thinking of a question on the top of his head, he wrote: Why didn’t the bombs detonate?
Max pushed the notebook to Nick, carefully avoiding the alpha’s gaze. He didn’t want to anger the alpha with any unnecessary actions. Anything could be considered a challenge to their authority.
Even if Nick or Logan didn’t seem like those kinds of people. It had never hurt Max to be careful.
You’d have to ask Isaac for the technical details. Nick paused, his shoulders finally dropping. It was as if his entire being shifted at the mention of Isaac. Everything about Nick looked softer.
Engineer?
Aerospace. Nick confirmed, smiling fondly. It was obviously a private one that he’d let slip, one that occurred few and far between. Even when talking in a different medium, Nick still sounded reverent. His writing was slow, as if to emphasize. He was always the brains of the relationship, at least until he muscled up even more. Now he’s both.
Aerospace. It made sense.
Max imagined Isaac up there among the stars, floating in the vast void. Embraced by starlight, drifting along an endless canvas of constellations. The image of Isaac, coal-black eyes taking in the whole of the universe itself, clicked perfectly into place like a puzzle piece. If anybody could do it, it would probably be Isaac.
Max tasted something bitter in his throat, an acrid turmoil stirring in his stomach. He dismissed the image of Isaac in his mind. Nobody would be going to space for a long time.
But I don’t think you’re asking how the nukes didn’t detonate, are you?
A moment of stillness. Nick scratched his chin idly.
Some cities didn’t make it. New York and Washington had been wiped off the map first. We had all thought ‘this was the end.’ We had been expecting to see our own mushroom cloud over the horizon, but it never arrived.
Isaac thinks they were deactivated during their transit. That whoever had launched the nukes second-guessed themselves at the last possible moment. Whoever and how many they were, they’re the reason we’re still here today. I can only hope some of our own gave the same courtesy to them.
There was a lull in the writing. Nick passed the paper back to Max. So they’re all deactivated?
But not disarmed. They could still go off if they were turned on, or if there was a malfunction. Maybe decades or centuries from now, but it would be utter devastation. We don’t know if there’s anybody left who has the skill set to do what we do, so we jump around the country disarming nukes. To give people the best chance of survival.
Max fidgeted in his seat, his fingers tapping an arrhythmic beat. He still had another question for the alpha. He flipped the page over to write the new question: Have you ever killed another person before?
Max slid the paper back to Nick slowly, pressing his fingers down on the table to keep them from shaking. He didn’t even know what answer he wanted Nick to give. The alpha slowly read what Max wrote. His expression was unreadable when he finished, so far from the delicate softness he had shown earlier.
Yes. Both before and after all this.
‘All this’. The end of the world seemed quaint when one puts it that way.
Nick continued to write. Have you?
Max wanted to stay in this pack. He really did. He thought back to the very last day he had when living by himself, working up the courage to approach this new pack. How much of that ‘courage’ had been his slow starvation? How much of that ‘courage’ had been Max trying to punish himself?
This pack deserved the truth from him. That was the least Max could do for them.
He nodded, a singular slow nod. Yes. The word looked shaky. His hands were trembling.
Max set the pencil down gently. There were people whom he had killed. There were people he might as well killed. The world doesn’t like leaving its children untainted, even soft little omegas who had only known the world through the violence of others, who had indulged in that same violence and told himself it was okay. Exempt from all judgment.
Nick had probably put the pieces together by now on why Max was alone instead of with a pack. The two of them looked ahead at Isaac, still sleeping peacefully in the booth seat.
Max was going to be alone again. He felt he should be crying his heart out right now, to try and plead with Nick to let him stay, but he only felt numb. Detached from the world, drifting aimlessly. His breathing was mechanical.
Nick wrote something slowly. The faint scratch of the pencil stopped, and Nick slowly pushed back the paper pad across the table. Max didn’t want to look down at what Nick wrote, but it didn’t matter what Max wanted. He had to face whatever Nick wrote sooner or later, and Max would rather it be on his own terms.
Faint morning sunlight spilt across the page, illuminating his words. That part of your life is over, Max. You can be a different person here.
Nick leaned across the table, underlining the last part of his sentence. You can be a different person here.
I’m staying?
You’re staying. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, and I don’t need to know. We trust you, Max.
Max finally felt a crumb of the emotion he had been trying to hold back. I killed them. My last pack. Shaky letters written with shaky hands, a teardrop or two staining the page and the pencil lead. The cold light of a morning sun.
I know.
Max underlined his previous words as if Nick didn’t understand what he had written. Max was giving Nick his last chance to back out on the tentative promise of acceptance held between his words. He wouldn’t fault them if they decided to leave him behind. He tried to not think about what he would do if they did. I killed them.
We all decided to take that gamble when we took you in, Max. Anything you need, you ask for. Alright? Nick stilled, his stature softening again. Plus, Isaac would kill me if we kicked you out now.
Max looked up at Nick incredulously. The alpha looked worn down, suddenly appearing as if he was a decade older. Despite that, Nick only offered a smile to Max’s distraught face.
You’re stronger than you know.
I’m not.
Max tried to blink away the tears in his eyes when Nick suddenly embraced him in a light hug. Even now, the alpha was being considerate, leaving room for Max to back away and out of the gesture if he so wished.
“I only came to you for food,” Max whispered. “Only that. I didn’t expect to find all of this. I didn’t know this existed.”
They had kept him. Max buried his head in Nick’s arms. They had kept him. He sobbed into his arms silently, as he had learned how to do early in his life. His tears broke free, a sudden overwhelming rush. A lifetime of pent-up frustration and bitterness being let out.
He dug his nails into his own skin, letting the pain ground him. It was as if he had been holding his breath all his life, and this was his first real exhale. He could finally breathe. “Thank you.”
They stayed that way until Max calmed down, the omega focusing on inhaling and exhaling and nothing else. Nick was the one to let go first. With a tired wave, the alpha stood up from the booth and left for the bedroom, leaving Max alone with a slumbering Isaac who was almost too big for the seat he was sleeping on. It was in sharp contrast with Max, who could have used the same booth seat as a comfortable bed.
Max closed the pad of paper on the table and tucked it back inside his jacket. He had sat there, watching the sunlight slowly creep up Isaac’s body until the other omega woke up. Isaac’s face cringed when the light became too bright to ignore, letting out a soft groan as he was forced to confront the sun.
Hey Max, Isaac muttered, still waking up. Doing good?
Isaac made a thumbs up, sending it alongside a tilt of his head.
Max nodded, reciprocating with a thumbs-up of his own. His small smile seemed to brighten Isaac’s mood. Still adorable as ever, I see. Isaac chuckled before it broke into a yawn. The omega stretched his back, rolled his shoulders, and seemed to immediately gain back all his energy. His muscles rippled under his shirt. Damn. Haven’t slept that well for a while.
Noticing the morning sun, Isaac grinned impishly. Come on, time waits for no one.
Isaac was a morning person, because of course he was.
Guiding Max out of the van— How convenient! You already have your jacket on— and into the biting cold outside, Isaac and Max got started on the day’s work. Max had already seen snippets of the pack’s daily routine from when he was still stalking them, but Isaac seemed to be guiding Max through it. Familiarising their new omega with the pack’s daily tasks.
And the only reason a pack would do that is if they intended their new packmate to stay. Max still had to occasionally check his memory to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted anything Nick had written, but how many ways could you possibly interpret the words ‘You’re staying’? Even so, it still seemed impossible that Max had earned himself a place in this pack so fast.
On some subconscious level, Max was still waiting for the rug pull.
It was still dawn. Max shivered slightly in the cold. Following Isaac like a second shadow, the two omegas went through Isaac’s morning routine: Wake up. Do a complex series of stretches that Max had never even seen before, but which Isaac seemed to do as if the movements had been etched into his very being. Manage to miraculously squirt an extra pump of toothpaste from the flattened tube to brush his teeth, sharing the toothbrush with Isaac. We’re going to have to find you a new toothbrush, like Johnny. Scowl at Isaac as he flicks cold water on his face, and then stand there with a furious blush that he hides under the wet towel that Isaac cleans his face with.
Max had been used to being dirty, covered in grime and oil, but it was different now. Everything was different now.
Max stood there in the bathroom doorway as Isaac made his way back inside the RV and brought out a hatchet with him. The wind didn’t whistle, but howled when they stepped outside. Dead leaves swirled around their feet as Isaac led Max into a patch of the forest with clean-cut stumps. There was a small dilapidated shed nearby with the roof caved in.
There were younger, thinner trees growing in this patch of the forest. Approaching one, Isaac walked up to the tree and cut into the wood in a V-shape. The wood chips flew apart easily, and Isaac hummed in satisfaction. It’s dry.
Isaac made short work of the tree, chopping into the tree with precision. With a final grunt and swing, the tree toppled over and landed on the forest floor with a thump. Max watched as the omega split the log into several smaller pieces, feeling slightly guilty for not helping. His arms felt weak just watching the other omega do the work.
When Isaac finished splitting smaller pieces of the log in half—with Max noticing how Isaac lined up his swings with the cracks in the wood—Max approached Isaac with a bundle of twigs in his arm.
Oh! Thank you, sweetheart, but you didn’t have to.
Isaac seemed to finally break a sweat when chopping the wood. The omega leaned against a tree casually, breathing heavily. The hatchet Isaac brought was embedded in a tree stump behind him.
Noticing the fallen piles of wood lying around the stump, Max shifted the kindling to one hand before walking towards the firewood. He bent down to pick them up, but Isaac stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
Hey, hey. It’s fine. Isaac started piling the split wood into his arms instead. I got this. You’ve done your fair share.
Max pouted, jabbing the other omega gently with a stick.
Are you seriously complaining about getting less work? Isaac flashed a bright smile that mirrored the brightening day. Wes could learn a thing or two from you, that slacker.
The stick wasn’t enough to dissuade Isaac from carrying the split logs back. Max followed a few steps behind Isaac as they made their way back. Entering the small, cleared space in front of the RV, Isaac and Max piled their kindling and split logs next to a makeshift fire pit. Activity in the pack had picked up during Max and Isaac’s absence.
Pete looked up as the two omegas approached. Oh good. Johnny’s on his way back with the water right now.
Have you guys found water already? Isaac wiped the sweat from his brow.
There was a little pond close. We picked a good spot this time. The sooner we get this fire started, the sooner we get actual drinkable water.
Logan yelled something from the top of the RV. Hell yeah! I’m thirsty as shit up here.
You don’t get to complain. All you’ve done was stand, Logan, Pete seemed to snark back.
And it’s tiring. My legs are tired. So tired.
Johnny, at that moment, approached from the treeline. Water sloshed dangerously back and forth in his bucket when he set it down. Logan beamed once he spotted the omega.
You need help over there, Johnny?
Yes, Johnny hissed between deep breaths. Yes, I do. There’s another bucket that I haven’t got around to bringing back yet.
Logan jumped down smoothly and walked to where Johnny came from. The alpha came back a few minutes later carrying another bucket of water, strutting as if it weighed nothing.
Johnny slapped Logan’s back. Show-off.
Yeah, yeah. Never say I don’t do anything for you all.
Hm, has anybody seen Nick? Isaac asked after stepping out of the RV, having already put away the hatchet he used.
Nick? Oh, he’s still sleeping. The beta didn’t look up when Isaac spoke, busy tending to the flame. Max had a nightmare last night. Nothing unusual, really, but Nick and Johnny stayed up with him for a bit. We all took the opportunity to finally let the man get some needed rest.
Good, he needs it, Issac said with a smirk before he craned his neck to glance back at Max with a worried expression. The other omega made a writing gesture. Isaac wanted him to take out his notebook.
Max felt a jolt of anxiety. The conversation he had with Nick last night was still there. He didn’t… he didn’t want Isaac to know about what happened to his last pack. He didn’t want Isaac to look at him differently. Max knew Nick would tell his mate eventually, but Max wanted to cling to Isaac’s affections until the very last moment.
So he took out the pad of paper slowly—Max noted how fast he was burning through his pages—and carefully flipped the notebook so that it opened to a fresh page before giving it to Isaac.
Are you okay? Heard you had a nightmare last night. Isaac looked concerned.
Max felt a bit sick. I’m fine. I’m sorry for waking them up.
Isaac sighed. It’s fine. Johnny had them for a long time as well. It’s nothing we’re not used to, so don’t you worry.
Max nodded. His bottom lip wobbled. Even after two days of acclimating to his new pack, everything still felt a bit overwhelming. Max had the urge to apologize again, but he pushed it down. There was something else he wanted.
Can you—
Max stalled, his pencil hovering over the notepad. Isaac waited patiently for Max to finish his words.
Max exhaled, trying to control his nervousness. He wanted to feel closer to his pack. Nick had said that if he wanted anything, Max could ask for it, right? Was this what stammers felt like when it was written? Max could ask for this, right?
—give me—
Max tried to make himself smaller where he stood. The whole camp could probably smell his hesitation. Maybe Max was being a bit too hasty with this. What if they thought Max was too demanding?
—a hug.
Oh. Oh wow. That’s just… that’s just adorable. Isaac looked as if somebody had just sucker-punched him. Max tried to take a step back, shaking his head. One look at Isaac’s expression told Max everything he needed to know about his request. “Never mind, it was stupid. I’m sorry.”
But Isaac had already swept Max in a tight hug. Anytime, sweetheart. The other omega rubbed his cheek along Max’s throat, scent-marking him, and Max felt a bit wobbly at that. But with Isaac holding him up, he didn’t need to worry about that part. He felt an intense flare of relief at the affirmation that he was still wanted.
That he was part of this pack. His eyes felt watery again.
“Oh,” Max whispered.
Max wrapped his own arms around Isaac and dug himself into their embrace. Isaac didn’t let go until Max tapped the other omega’s back. Releasing the smaller omega, Max quickly wiped away any burgeoning tears he had left in his eyes. Isaac pretended not to notice them.
The day seemed to pass quicker than usual. This time, there wasn’t any obvious guard watching over Max, but Max wasn’t going to try and push his luck with his freedom. Hanging around the firepit, Max watched as the pack prepared for their meal like they’d always done. Using the water Johnny had collected today, Logan and Johnny were now hunched over a large cooking pot. It didn’t take long before the scent of something delicious started wafting from the pot.
The pack gathered around the campfire once Logan shouted something, everybody finding spots on the ground to sit. Max had chosen to sit next to Isaac. The other omega had handed him his share of food, which like the previous two days, had been broth. The novelty of heated food remained as Max greedily gulped down his first half of food.
Nick and Wes stepped out, drawn like moths to a flame at the scent of food.
Something smells real good, Wes said with a dreamy smile. He looked like he was still waking up.
That would be the food, Wes, Logan said, handing the beta his share once he drew close.
Nick sat next to Isaac’s left, the omega planting a kiss on the half-awake alpha. Somewhere off to the side, Wes and Pete were sparring verbally again. Max felt a pang of sadness at missing out on their conversation. He had never needed to talk when he was by himself, but now that Max was finally in the presence of others, his condition made itself more obvious than ever.
Soon, Isaac handed Max his second portion which he drank down just as greedily as the first. Max gathered the bowls as Johnny swapped the cooking pot for a bucket of water, the two omegas washing and stowing them back into the RV.
It was terribly domestic. If Max concentrated, he could see himself washing dishes with Johnny, or gathering firewood with Isaac a few years from now. Maybe settling down on a territory somewhere, with an abandoned farmhouse the pack would renovate and little gardens growing tomatoes and peas.
Thank you, Logan wrote in the dirt as the alpha passed Max.
Max nodded, smiling.
The sun was in the middle of the sky now. Max had watched as Johnny carried the bucket of steaming water to the side of the RV facing away from the firepit and the blue, duck-shaped sponge to him.
Max blinked. A long moment of silence stretched between them.
Wash? Max wrote, before handing his notebook to Johnny. Max had kept his writing small this time. They were running out of pages, even when they used both sides of the pages.
The entire pack will wash. Water nearby is convenient. Johnny held out the sponge. Want me to stick around?
Max nodded hastily, glad that Johnny asked first. Thank you, Johnny.
Standing near the walls of the RV, Max scrubbed thoroughly. The water wasn’t gray with grime this time, but it had still felt good wiping away at his skin with hot water. Max had still hesitated before shoving his pants and underwear down. The words ‘they’re not like that’ echoed in his head, but he still felt pangs of fear every moment he spent washing his lower half.
He wanted to trust the pack, but the part of his mind—the part that poured sweat down his hand and introduced the chill to his heart, the part that had always kept him alive—screamed in the back of his mind whenever the topic was breached, trying to slam down Max’s gates every time he tried to open them a crack.
It was hard not to walk down the pathways his brain had formed, but maybe, somewhere in the distant future, Max would walk his own path.
Max finished washing quickly. He tapped Johnny’s shoulder lightly when he was done, handing the other omega the duck sponge. “Thank you.”
Max had helped Johnny refill the bucket two times while the others washed, heating it over the fire until it bubbled and steamed. It had been a team effort, with both omegas holding onto the handle of the bucket to carry it back.
Max had been quietly catching his breath in the RV booth before he caught Nick’s scent. The alpha entered the RV and approached slowly with intent. Max’s eyes were immediately drawn to the object Nick was holding: a knife. Max’s knife.
Nick sat down opposite Max and placed the knife on the table. Max placed his pad of paper and pencil on the table. Nick frowned once he picked the pad of paper up.
We’ll try to find more paper for you in the town.
That’s right. They were going to scavenge for supplies at the town. Max didn’t turn his gaze to the knife, but it held his attention. Nick must have realized how useful Max could be with his heightened senses, if he was used right. He had seen Nick’s calculating look. The alpha must be considering sending Max with them to scavenge. Max straightened his back, waiting for his chance.
Nick pushed the knife towards Max. Sorry we took this from you. This is yours.
Max gripped the helm of the knife. It wasn’t his, but it was a good knife.
Max waited for Nick to break the news, but the alpha didn’t. Nick stood up, as if handing Max back his possessions was the only thing he wanted to do.
Max stood up quickly. “Wait—”
Nick paused at Max’s jumbled word. Max snatched his pad of paper and started writing. Can I come with you?
To scavenge?
Max nodded enthusiastically. Max understood. Maybe it was a test all along, and Nick had been waiting for Max to ask. Yes. I want to come with you.
Nick received the pad of paper. Read his words. Wrote something down, a short scribble. Max frowned minutely before Nick handed the paper pad back. What he wrote didn’t sound like a ‘yes’.
No.
Max felt his heart drop. I can help. I can be useful sir.
Nick shook his head firmly. It’s dangerous. You’re still weak from starvation, and you don’t have the training we have.
Max stepped closer to the alpha. He was shaking. Why was he—
I don’t want to be a burden, sir. His handwriting was deteriorating. I can help you find supplies and scout so you won’t have to. I promise I’ll make it up to you sir. Max displayed his new words with trembling hands.
Why are you afraid?
“What?” Max shook his head. He wasn’t afraid. He just wanted to help. He just needed them to realize how much he was worth.
I’m not afraid of it being dangerous sir.
That’s not what I meant.
Max didn’t understand.
We’re not sending a starved omega to scavenge for us when we have people suited to the role, Max.
Max deflated at that. Nick was right. The others were clearly trained for this, while Max was nothing but an opportunistic vulture that had survived through sheer luck. He felt something heavy settle on his chest.
Nick’s eyes softened. You don’t have to earn your place by putting your own life in danger, Max. You’re part of this pack, and that’s that.
Max wrote, his words angry and jagged. The frustration and anger had made him forget, momentarily, that he was talking to an alpha. It doesn’t work like that.
Do you trust us?
Yes.
Then believe me when I say that you’re part of this pack. You’re not a burden. You’re not useless. And if you really want to help scavenge, we’ll train you. I’ve already talked to Wes and Logan about it. But we won’t leave you. We will never leave you. Do you know why?
Max hesitated with his pencil. Why?
Because you’re pack.
Max inhaled sharply. Shit, he was getting tired of crying all the time.
I’m pack?
Yes.
I’m pack.
Yes.
Okay.
Okay?
I’m pack.
Max wondered if years from now, the scent of his relief could still be smelt in the fabric of the booth seat. It was a relief so sharp, so clear, so vivid that he could feel nothing else but it. He had always been content in the darkness of his future, so now when it was so bright, it scared him.
Max had something to lose beyond his life now. He was pack.
Max heard the door of the RV open and smelled the alarmed scent of Isaac as he sprinted inside. Shit, is baby boy okay? Isaac peeked over Nick’s shoulder, reading the pad of paper with a quick skim. Oh, sweetheart.
Do you want a hug? Isaac wrote, showing the pad of paper to Max.
Max nodded. Yeah.
Isaac swept him in his arms, enveloping Max. Isaac, with an expectant look, gestured at Nick. Come on, don’t be shy.
Are you sure? I don’t want to spook—
Yes, I’m sure. We’re all pack here, aren’t we?
Nick soon joined in, enveloping both omegas in a hug. This was nice. They were nice. Everything was nice. But most importantly:
He was safe.
What happened? Is something happening? Wes’ nervous scent burst into the room, followed by Johnny’s.
Isaac motioned for the two to come over. Group hug, fellas.
Fuck yeah. Wes’ nervousness immediately disappeared. The beta went and stood next to Nick to join in the group hug.
Johnny managed to slip under Isaac’s arm. Sidling close to Max, he gently took one of Max’s hands and gifted him a smile that could melt winter.
He was safe.
Hey! How come nobody told us about a group hug? Logan flicked Wes’ forehead before joining in as well, bringing in the scent of the forest from outside.
You’re lucky I’m busy hugging everybody right now, Logan, or I’d demolish you where you stood. Wes sniffed indignantly.
I’d like to see you try, Logan said with challenge obvious in his voice.
Please don’t. I’m not wasting any more painkillers on you lot. Pete’s voice drifted near the back, his voice exasperated yet fond.
Nonsense. Are you joining the group hug or not?
There’s not enough room—
That’s what you think, doc. Max watched as Logan grappled Pete with a hand and added him to the people pile.
The pack’s scents mingled with each other, a cacophony of scents and sounds that seared itself in his mind, and Gods , Max couldn’t believe he had them at all, and that they wanted Max as much as Max wanted them. He let himself be carried away, to burrow deeper into the pack’s scents. “Thank you,” he whispers reverently. “Thank you. Thank you.”
See? Even Max thinks you two are oafs, Pete snarled, trying to struggle out of Logan’s grasp. Stop pressing me into you, you insufferable—
Really? Wes drawled, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Cause it sounded to me Max was calling you a stick-in-the-mud prune who doesn’t know how to appreciate a good ol’ pack hug.
Max is wise, Logan nodded with a pleased grin. Just friendly advice from your resident packmate, Petey.
Isaac laughed. Settle down, boys. Must what Max say be one or the other?
Oh, fuck off, Isaac!
Ouch, Isaac. You wound me.
Yeah, I’m not sure Wes can handle such a verbal beatdown from Max. He might start crying.
Wes smacked Logan on the back of his head. Shut up.
There had been noise in the world once. The distant hum of electricity, of cars, of people living their lives. An airplane that had flown past. The rattle of the window as a train passed through. Max had walked down that familiar street that led to his childhood home, had crossed those potholes, and had stared down at a puddle on the side of that road. He had tried to see beyond, to see where his life would lead, but the noise was too great, and all he managed to see was his tired-lined face and bruises that rooted themselves on his skin.
Then the world had fallen silent, and there was no more noise. And now when Max looks in the puddles of his packmate’s eyes, he sees the pack that he had grown to love. Glowing in the scorched wastes of the world. Somewhere trailing behind them, he could see himself cloaked in his shadows, but pierced by their light. A tabernacle for all the hope Max had thought he had lost.