Unfamiliar advice Who: Riley and Serge Where: Streets near the market When: Late morning Warnings:
The storm was coming, Serge didn’t even need to look up to know it. He could feel it in old injuries, could smell something mercurial in the air; sooner or later the skies were going to crack open and drench Delphi, as if water could wash away everything that had been happening. It had Serge wondering as he walked from his house towards the markets, could vampires step out during an overcast day like this one? Were they actually hindered by something beyond direct sunlight, or were the clouds above him enough of a barrier?
He had no way of knowing without tracking down Zania or December’s unnamed vampire contact, and Serge wasn’t looking to find out right now, either. A pair of days without bloodshed wouldn’t be so bad for him; they’d give time for bruises to start fading, for patrol patterns to adapt, and for Serge to both move Corey into his house and figure out how to explain the new threat to her. But he’d need food in the house if they were both living there, she needed more than the ration packs Serge existed on. And that meant a trip to the market, hopefully before the rain hit.
It had felt absurd to have to keep his appointments today, so soon after Lia had been released from the hospital with strange things going on inside her. To have to talk meat prices felt like something someone from another lifetime had ever had to do and he'd almost lost a sale because his mind was elsewhere. If it rained on him in between his meetings, Riley might not even notice until he began receiving strange looks from the restaurant staff. Eatzy's was his next stop.
On autopilot, Riley walked the street along the park, not even noticing flower vendors or buskers the way he usually did. His mind was wandering along its own paths of worry, regret, and the need to do something with the pent up frustration coursing through him ever since he'd agreed not to try to hunt down the wolf that had attacked Lia. His eyes were mostly on the pavement as he walked so he noticed as the wind whipped up a bill from the ground that appeared to have dropped by another passerby.
"Oy, mate," Riley called to Serge. "This yours?" He caught the money and held it out to the other man.
“Is not,” Serge answered evenly, not even breaking stride to consider it as he drew closer to Riley. “Is your good fortune now.” Money had never been a direct concern for Serge, aside from needing to provide it to his distant family, and after the world changed? He’d actually enjoyed losing that aspect of his old life. So here in Delphi it had become a necessary evil again, but not so much of one that he’d claim money that wasn’t his. “Australian?” he asked then at the sound of Riley’s accent, actually giving a faint smirk of surprise, “I believed myself the only foreigner in all of Delphi...”
It was interesting to hear a voice speaking with something other than a nasally American accent. He couldn't quite place it, but it was nice. "It's the first I've had in a while," Riley responded with a shrug. He shoved the bill in his pocket. Money hadn't really been a concern for Riley either as he ran the cattle ranch and it did well by default. High demand meant high profit. Well, high enough anyway. It was nothing to old world standards. "Right-o," he answered. "And I'm not the only one. My wife is also here. I thought we were the only ones. Well met." He offered his hand to shake the other man's. "Riley Pollard," he offered with a smile. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up here in Delphi?"
It took a moment there, as Serge’s eyes darted to Riley’s hand and back to his face, before the old Russian closed a leathered hand on the younger man’s and shook. “Serge Greylin, Delphi police,” he introduced himself with a little nod of recognition, “Pollard. You oversee the ranching operation.” He’d done his homework in that regard, wanting to know the names of the prominent business owners here so he’d realize if or when he met them. Like now. “I was on business, courier work between survivor camps,” Serge explained, sticking to truths that didn’t expose his family, “A visit that was meant to last two days has become a new career. The coffee almost justifies it...” It didn’t exist beyond the various domes, not unless you could get to South America, and Serge already knew he’d miss it when he finally left Delphi.
Riley shook firmly and nodded to the other man's introduction. "Always good to know the local police. Good to meet you, Mr. Greylin." Formality felt right for this situation. Serge was older and in a position of authority and it struck a chord for Riley somehow that he was to be respected. "That I do. Cattle is in my blood. My family had a similar operation back home though much larger." Riley was pleased that Serge knew of him. A good reputation was helpful in this world though not always necessary if you had the sort of business Riley had. Still, he wanted people to think well of him. He listened to Serge's story and nodded again, thoughtfully. "The coffee is pretty good." He chuckled. "So you're a transplant from after the dome's doors locked?" He'd known there were people who had been trapped inside but he'd yet to meet any of them having been so preoccupied with reconnecting with Lia.
“A transplant,” Serge echoed, smirking faintly again, “I suppose so. A temporary one, and I hope a useful one while I am here.” He knew he’d done some good the last few nights, organizing a defense among the police and directly killing wolves, not to mention the vampire he’d taken out. “Were your herds attacked by the wolves?” he had to ask, thinking yet again how odd the whole ordeal had been. One and two wolf attacks, never a full pack, the strange intelligence he’d seen in the beasts... if they were normal wolves, the cattle operation would’ve been prime feeding.
Riley nodded. “Any help is good help in this place. I’m not sure what’s happening but it’s as though there’s some kind of breakdown somewhere. First the doors, then bats, now wolves. I’m having a crisis of faith about our safety,” he said honestly. “So it’s good to have as many soldiers as we can in whatever this battle is.” Riley thought about his herds for the first time since before he’d found Lia a few days ago. Other than being busy trying to sell them. Surely one of his hands would have said something if the cattle had been attacked. He’d had no such report. It had been business as usual. “No, I haven’t seen any attacks on my animals. Which, now that you mention it, is strange. My wife was attacked though. Have you heard of animals being attacked or were they just after humans?” He frowned, thinking of the multiple wolf attack victims he’d been aware of when he’d been in the hospital with Lia.
“Humans only,” Serge confirmed as his usual glower deepened in concern over that. It was definitely strange, because even if Serge was no zoologist he knew how seldom wolves attacked people. Defending territory, food, or pack? Sure. But seeking them out when cattle were grazing so nearby? It was enough to cause a deeper worry than the attacks had managed on their own, if only because Serge now feared that the attacks weren’t as simple as they seemed. “Your wife, was she gravely injured?” he asked then, thinking that he’d have to find out Mrs. Pollard’s first name and keep an eye on her.
Riley nodded, frowning. “She seemed to be losing enough blood to have died but now she’s on the mend as though nothing even happened to her. Which doesn’t sit well with me. Something’s off about it.” Something was off about Lia herself too and neither one of them seemed able to put their finger on just what. The wolf attack had changed her somehow almost imperceptibly but changed nonetheless. “I don’t think that was a normal wolf, if I’m honest, mate. It went for her and her alone. It barely cared I was there. I fended it off but it never tried to really hurt me. Something wrong with that, right?”
Riley’s frown pushed Serge’s grimace even deeper, showing the few lines on his somewhat-youthful face starkly indeed. “Many things wrong with that,” he agreed gravely, “With all of this, in truth. They hunt wrong for wolf, they die stubborn, pick strange prey... keep close watch on your wife. Look for changes or sickness.” Find some silver. Which was just insane to even think, or would’ve been in a world without vampires, a world where Riley’s wife would’ve died from her injuries... “Look also for others who seek her out, you and I will not be the only ones asking these questions.”
Riley noted the other man's growing disquiet as it seemed to match his own. To have his worry met with affirmation rather than discarded as being unfounded was even more unsettling than simply having experienced the strangeness of the wolf on his own. "They die stubborn?" he asked, wanting to be sure be understood that Serge had hunted and attempted to kill one of them and it hadn't worked out the way it should have normally. Riley felt antsy again, the need to hunt the wolf that had attacked Lia growing once more. "No, I'm sure we won't be the only ones. I've heard of at least 2 other attacks that have had similar outcomes to Lia's. Rapid recovery, etc. You don't think the wolves were diseased?"
“I am not doctor,” Serge answered evenly, accent rich in the clipped way he spoke then , “And I am not scientist. But disease holds different meaning now, yes?” He was bracing to find out that it did, and that these rapid recoveries were some new pathogen he could do nothing about. “I have killed them, these wolf,” he offered then, touching on Riley’s question. “Throats cut, they live. Lung punctured, they do not slow. Bullet to head still works.” Two never hurt, but that wasn’t light conversation fodder.
Riley nodded at the man's statements. "No, I'm not either," he agreed. "But yes, disease has an entirely new definition in light of zombies … and whatever else is going on in the world. Who would have thought 5 years ago that we would be in domed cities thanks to disease." He didn't want to think about what it would mean for the survivors locked into domed cities where new pandemic diseases broke out. His brows furrowed in a dark crease hearing just how difficult the wolves had been to kill. Bullet to the head. Like a zombie. He mulled over that for a second or two. "Any idea how many there were or still are running around out there?"
“A dozen less, perhaps,” Serge offered thoughtfully, reviewing his own mental tally. He’d had a hand in seven deaths total, had seen his fellow officers fell another two, and thought Mickey had mentioned a few more? A dozen seemed like a safe bet. “Too many, in any case, to be strays from some pack. This was ambush.” Which wasn’t outside of a beast’s mental ability, but the way the wolves had filtered into town before attacking? That was. “I would post extra watch over your herds, in case stragglers seek meals.”
Riley wished he had been out there now. Hunting, fighting. It felt wrong to have left it to others when he was capable but he'd promised Lia. "Too right, mate, that's way too many. For any reason. I don't have much experience with animals but I've never heard of one behaving this way. Let alone more than one." He balled his fists and shoved them far down into his pockets. He wanted to ask Serge if there were going to be any more hunting parties and could he join if there were but he kept quiet. He'd patrol his own herds and see what he could find. "Already on that. Borrowed a few of the big blokes from down the saw mill to wander the grounds and camp out with the cattle. Any other advice for us civilians other than keeping our heads in as much as possible?"
Serge thought that over for a moment, not usually one to be giving advice to someone like Riley. He knew how vast the divide between their worlds had to be. “Do not hide entirely,” he said eventually, “Isolation breeds desperation and distrust. Keep regular contact with others in Delphi to keep aware of changing circumstance. And if you suspect anything is wrong, call the station. I promise you we will have someone to follow up on any misgiving, no matter how small it seems.”
That wasn't exactly the type of advice Riley had been expecting but then, he had no right to expect anything. It was good advice still and he nodded. "Can't very well hide or stay out of contact in my line of work but you're right about that. I'll be sure to encourage others to give a call as well to the station should they need help." He figured he could probably handle a situation with a wolf on his own, provided it didn't find its way into his house but if it did, there'd be probably little time to call for help. "Thanks, mate. Appreciate it."
It hadn’t been the kind of advice Serge normally gave, either, but telling Riley to get a rifle and a tactical perch would probably get him in trouble with the other cops. For now? He’d be safe enough with more practical, civilian-safe tips. “It is my job,” Serge replied, shaking his head at Riley’s thanks. “Stay safe, Mr. Pollard, and I will hope your wife recovers fully,” he said before giving a curt little nod and turning to head away. He needed to get to the station and get in their files now, to put a first name to the woman Riley would be safeguarding...
"You as well. Ta,'" he replied, a bit thoughtful as he processed. Riley would have slapped the guy's shoulder but he wasn't sure if that would cross the cultural or age divide well. He satisfied himself with a matching nod. He watched Serge walk a few paces before heading off in his own direction. He was late now for his next appointment but it had been worth it to touch base with the local police force. And that made him feel a lot more secure about the way things were going. If security of any sort was to ever be had here.