The People's Alpha ✔

24: Deadbeat Alpha Blues

"I said careful!"

"Stop pushing too hard. We're going to end up shaving the corner off something like the last time!"

"What do you mean, I was pushing too hard? I can barely keep up."

"What was that, just then?"

The park bench was, as usual, causing an absolutely disproportionate amount of carnage as it rattled its way slowly past below me, on its way to its new home under a tarp in the crawl space under the pack house. Elsewhere, people were people were toiling away in the shade of the trees, weeding the gardens, mowing the lawns, sorting the trash into recyclables - cardboard, plastic, metal, glass. They would be further sorted when they reached the recycler's in the Industrial Zone.

I was watching all of this from the vantage point of the top of a ladder perched next to the gutter on top of the house. I was pulling rotted leaves and dirt out. A surprising amount had built up since the last time I had been up there. It was all bone-dry, and dust rose up as I prised the debris out.

I looked up at the clear blue sky, framed in the pine branches. It was a good day for this kind of thing. The lake glistening under the sun. Faint birdsong filled the air. The trees rocked and soughed gently in the light breeze.

But when would it rain again?

Cars were parked out in the driveways, being washed, suds flowing down driveways, pooling in the margins of the dusty street. The Moon Goddess was taking pride of centre in the middle of my driveway, hosed down. The Hayabusa stood behind it.

The current nexus of activity appeared to cluster around the final remaining tar-paper shack. A trench had been dug from its side to the water main that fed the pack village from the lake. Pipes were being laid into the trench, a large pile of dirt growing larger on the wayside. Inside, the fittings on the left side of the room had been pulled away, while taps were being installed on top of the sink in the kitchenette.

Suddenly it seemed that every single person in my sightlines froze at the same time, dropping what they were doing. A pall of silence fell over the pack.

The smell was very faint, but it was unmistakable.

There were wolves from another pack nearby, quite close, and clearly not from around here. This could only mean one of two things: friendly visit or invasion.

There was one shrill whistle from the woods. Something was on the border, but it wasn't urgent. At least for the time being.

Everyone seemed to be looking towards me. Some were already making to down tools and head for wherever the noise was coming from.

"There is no need to panic." My voice rang out. "I want everyone to stay put. There's been no indication from border patrol that this is anything serious. I will go to the border and report back."

I climbed down the ladder. All around me, people mostly went back to what they were doing, although quite a few had decided to come along anyway, as well as Brian and Lister.

We walked at a fast pace, keeping an eye out for anything unusual around us. We were almost there when we met a messenger from the border who'd presumably been sent down. He looked like he was in a hurry.

"Jim, there's a small group at the border. They want to talk to you."

"Who? What? Why?"

"They say they're from the Salmon Creek pack and they come in peace. They made a pretty big show about being unarmed."

"What do mean, they came in peace?" someone yelled from behind me.

"I think they're telling the truth," the sentry added. "They looked pretty tired. They sure don't look like they're in the mood for a spot of invading and conquering."