Read Online Shifting Fates by Nadia Simonenko, Aubrey Rose - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nadia Simonenko, Aubrey Rose
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Paranormal, Military, New Adult & College, Holidays, Werewolves & Shifters
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I’m sure of it.
Chapter Eight
Cage
I have no idea what the Harlem Sector used to be like before the war, but it’s one hell of a shithole now that the war’s over.
New York City ain’t exactly famous for its nature, so seeing a place as overgrown as this area is… well, it just feels so strange compared to the area around my barracks down near Times Square. Thick ivy grows up the walls of the old brick buildings, insidiously creeping through broken windows and taking over the long abandoned apartments, and even the once-ornamental trees have taken on a life of their own. Their enormous roots rip through the sidewalks and tear holes in the already crumbling streets as they grow out of control along the curbs. Even the hedges decorating the tiny, iron-fenced yards tower over us now, gargantuan green monsters ten years overdue for a trimming.
I'd never admit it to my troops, but I'm really glad it's daylight right now. There could be shifters hiding all over the place up here and I'd never know it… not that I have a snowball's chance in hell anyway with this disgrace of a platoon.
"Stay in formation!" I snarl for probably the fifteenth time in as many blocks, and my ragtag bunch of Delta idiots hurriedly reforms their line. It'll disintegrate into banter and sightseeing again soon enough—you'd think these boys were a bunch of tourists or something. In a way, they really are tourists, though. They're so young that there probably ain't a single one of them that'd ever been to New York City before the war. I know I sure as hell hadn't.
I wonder what kind of infrastructure Central Command thinks they’re going to reclaim up here. This place is falling apart. I haven't seen a single person yet, thankfully. I don't want to be the one rounding up civvies and carting them off to Central Park on Christmas morning, so it's actually a relief to me that we've been assigned to shifter patrol. I'm going to just keep walking these boys in a circle until the Major calls us back to base.
We take a right turn onto 158th Street and carefully make our way straight down the middle of the empty road since the sidewalks here are too far gone to use. A grunt starts whistling in the back, and I belt him across the back of the head as I pass.
"Did I say you could whistle, soldier?"
"Um… no sir," he stammers, looking down at his boots and trying to match the rest of the platoon's cadence. It's a lost cause—it ain't like the rest of them are maintaining any consistent pace either.
"What's your name?"
"Private Briggs, sir."
"Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, Briggs," I tell him. "Whistle again and there won't be anything left of you for the shifters when I'm finished. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." He swallows nervously, and I nod to him before continuing up the line to check on the other idiots I'm stuck babysitting.
I'd expected this area to be crawling with civvies after what I saw on the map this morning, but if they're here, they sure don't want us to know. I can't say I blame them, though… who'd want to deal with the military on Christmas morning? They're probably all inside with their families, sheltered from the harsh winter cold.
Man, this place creeps me out even in daylight. The bare, gnarled branches of the trees feel as if they’re reaching down, clawing at me, flailing hungrily as my platoon passes beneath them. I ain’t usually superstitious, but there’s no way in hell you’d get me out here in the dark. Not without my gun, at least.
My radio crackles to life every now and then with updates from the other platoons. They're finding a few families here and there, but so far, most of the buildings are completely empty. In my heart, I hope it stays like this and that there's nobody living here at all. I hope this whole damned sector's completely deserted so that we aren't wrecking anyone’s life on Christmas morning.
We loop around the block on 157th Street, and just as we turn onto Amsterdam to start our loop
Chapter Eight
Cage
I have no idea what the Harlem Sector used to be like before the war, but it’s one hell of a shithole now that the war’s over.
New York City ain’t exactly famous for its nature, so seeing a place as overgrown as this area is… well, it just feels so strange compared to the area around my barracks down near Times Square. Thick ivy grows up the walls of the old brick buildings, insidiously creeping through broken windows and taking over the long abandoned apartments, and even the once-ornamental trees have taken on a life of their own. Their enormous roots rip through the sidewalks and tear holes in the already crumbling streets as they grow out of control along the curbs. Even the hedges decorating the tiny, iron-fenced yards tower over us now, gargantuan green monsters ten years overdue for a trimming.
I'd never admit it to my troops, but I'm really glad it's daylight right now. There could be shifters hiding all over the place up here and I'd never know it… not that I have a snowball's chance in hell anyway with this disgrace of a platoon.
"Stay in formation!" I snarl for probably the fifteenth time in as many blocks, and my ragtag bunch of Delta idiots hurriedly reforms their line. It'll disintegrate into banter and sightseeing again soon enough—you'd think these boys were a bunch of tourists or something. In a way, they really are tourists, though. They're so young that there probably ain't a single one of them that'd ever been to New York City before the war. I know I sure as hell hadn't.
I wonder what kind of infrastructure Central Command thinks they’re going to reclaim up here. This place is falling apart. I haven't seen a single person yet, thankfully. I don't want to be the one rounding up civvies and carting them off to Central Park on Christmas morning, so it's actually a relief to me that we've been assigned to shifter patrol. I'm going to just keep walking these boys in a circle until the Major calls us back to base.
We take a right turn onto 158th Street and carefully make our way straight down the middle of the empty road since the sidewalks here are too far gone to use. A grunt starts whistling in the back, and I belt him across the back of the head as I pass.
"Did I say you could whistle, soldier?"
"Um… no sir," he stammers, looking down at his boots and trying to match the rest of the platoon's cadence. It's a lost cause—it ain't like the rest of them are maintaining any consistent pace either.
"What's your name?"
"Private Briggs, sir."
"Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, Briggs," I tell him. "Whistle again and there won't be anything left of you for the shifters when I'm finished. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." He swallows nervously, and I nod to him before continuing up the line to check on the other idiots I'm stuck babysitting.
I'd expected this area to be crawling with civvies after what I saw on the map this morning, but if they're here, they sure don't want us to know. I can't say I blame them, though… who'd want to deal with the military on Christmas morning? They're probably all inside with their families, sheltered from the harsh winter cold.
Man, this place creeps me out even in daylight. The bare, gnarled branches of the trees feel as if they’re reaching down, clawing at me, flailing hungrily as my platoon passes beneath them. I ain’t usually superstitious, but there’s no way in hell you’d get me out here in the dark. Not without my gun, at least.
My radio crackles to life every now and then with updates from the other platoons. They're finding a few families here and there, but so far, most of the buildings are completely empty. In my heart, I hope it stays like this and that there's nobody living here at all. I hope this whole damned sector's completely deserted so that we aren't wrecking anyone’s life on Christmas morning.
We loop around the block on 157th Street, and just as we turn onto Amsterdam to start our loop
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