by M. D. Massey
“Shit, Colin, I could’ve shot you.” I holstered my weapon and stuck out my hand. “Damned happy to see you. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Colin shook my hand firmly and grinned. “You kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
“Yeah, I keep hearing that, but somehow I think that once the shit hits the proverbial fan, things are going to go sideways, fast.”
He popped some gum and smirked. “Again, not my first rodeo. Besides, these ’thropes have been a thorn in my side for years. I’ll be glad to see them go.”
I cocked my head and grimaced. “Hopefully, everything will go to plan. If not, nice knowing you.”
He shook his head. “Trust me, things are going to turn out alright. I have a feeling about it.”
“Well, if you say so. C’mon, I have to brief Gabby and Sam on some last-minute details. I’ll fill you in on the way.” Colin moved as silently as smoke behind me as I ghosted to the building next door. The few shamblers that were out ignored me, and strangely they ignored Colin as well. I gave him a funny look as a deader shuffled right past us, and he just grinned. Once we got inside the other building, I asked him how he did it.
“It’s Celtic magic, believe it or not.”
I thought about it for a moment and scratched my chin. “Huh. Can you teach anyone else to do it?”
“Yeah, but you have to be celibate to make it work.”
“Oh, bullshit.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m just messing with you. I killed a deader and rolled around on it just a few minutes ago. Works like a charm until it wears off.”
“Thought you smelled a little ripe.”
“Eau de zombie. Keeps away women and the dead. Like I said, you have to be celibate to make it work.”
“I didn’t think you needed any help in that department, the way Anna keeps turning you and Mickey down.”
He trudged up the stairs next to me and faked getting stabbed in the chest. “Oh, you really went there, didn’t you? That’s low, man.”
“Hell, man, I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Truth be told, I was never too slick with the ladies myself. Partially because of this,” I pointed at the nasty scars on my face, “and partially because I’ve never been good with most people. If it wasn’t for the apocalypse, I’d probably still be single.”
He leaned on the railing and popped his gum again. “Well, I wasn’t exactly experienced before things fell apart, either. I had a sort of girlfriend, but that didn’t go the way I expected.”
“What—she turn you down, too?”
He frowned. “Now who’s jacking with whom?”
“Pfft. I see how you are, making me feel stupid with your grammar and crap.” I knelt to check another trip wire, then stood and brushed myself off. “C’mon, stinky, let’s get moving. I want to start killing ’thropes before the sun goes down.”
Colin frowned as he pushed off the wall. “Hey, Scratch, before the killing starts, I have one more thing to ask you.”
“Sure man, what is it? You want me to convey your undying platonic love to Anna if you don’t make it?”
“If you croak, can I have dibs on your girl?”
“Piss off, Colin.”
I filled Colin in on the plan as we headed up the last few flights of stairs. After I’d explained it in full, the big man grinned with delight at the crazy idea I’d cooked up for taking out the pack. He asked me a few questions, and once satisfied with the answers he nodded his approval and slapped me on the back with enthusiasm. It flipping stung like hell, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
We got to the top floor, and I gave a low whistle as I cracked the door so Sam and Gabby wouldn’t put a bullet in me. We walked in to find Gabby hiding in a blind spot behind the door, her crossbow in hand and kukri at the ready. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but I knew he was around somewhere.
Colin tilted his head at Gabby while looking at me. “You train her?”
I wiggled my hand. “Some, but mostly she came to me in condition one. She’s been pretty much high speed and low drag since I’ve known her.”
Gabby sheathed her kukri and set her crossbow down before waving her hands in front of us. “Hello? I’m right here—you don’t get to talk about me like I’m not in the room.”
Colin ignored her, covering his hand with his mouth as he leaned over. “Is she always this sensitive?”
I played along and feigned ignoring her as well. “Not always. Sometimes she’s worse.” Acting as if I was surprised, I looked up and acknowledged the kid. “Gabby! Oh, fancy seeing you here. How’s things?”
She picked up a glass paper weight and launched it at me, narrowly missing my head. Then, she narrowed her eyes in mock anger, with just the slightest hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Would’ve been better if I’d hit you upside the head. Next time, I’ll just shoot you to be sure.” She turned and beckoned for us to follow. “C’mon, Sam’s in here setting up.”
We followed her past a reception desk and down a short hall, to a door at the end that was marked, “Lisa Johnson, V.P. of Marketing.” All the other doors were closed, presumably to avoid backlighting Sam and Gabby in the sniper’s nest they’d set up. While Sam hadn’t been a military man, he’d assured me that he’d spent time with a long gun on the range before the War, volunteering with Project Appleseed. Project Appleseed had been a program to teach long gun skills to civilians, with the intention of passing said skills down to a civilian populace that could serve as an apolitical militia in time of need. I wondered how many Project Appleseed attendees were still alive, in part due to the skills they’d picked up at the two-day course.
As we walked into the room, Sam was stretched out on the floor with the .50 caliber sniper rifle set up on a bipod before him, sighting through the scope and practicing picking up targets and estimating ranges. We watched without interrupting him for a good minute or so. He had a notebook next to him, and would jot something down every so often, likely estimating the range to different landmarks around the wolf compound.
It was pretty much guesswork without a rangefinder, and if I had my way, it’d be me up here manning the sniper rifle. But we only had one long gun that was capable of taking out a ’thrope with a single round, and I needed these two watching my back while I drew the wolves to the other tower. They had explicit instructions to take out one wolf, if possible, and then to immediately retreat and head to the north side of the roof in order to provide support to Bobby, Joe and me as we tried to lure the wolves into a trap that would hopefully thin the pack out enough to make it an even fight. Bobby had come through on the goodies I’d asked him to procure, so if we could lure them up, it’d be one hell of a surprise. With Colin here, I thought we just might have a chance.
Sam finally took his eye off the scope and spoke over his shoulder to us. “Two guarding the hostages, one roaming the main compound. I think I can take out the roaming guard, but the other two are too far off. The rifle can make that shot, but I don’t think I can.”
I knelt down and got on my stomach next to him, elevated on a makeshift platform formed by two desks, a good six to eight feet away from the broken glass pane in front of us. I pulled out my monocular and had a look. He was right; it was a good thirteen hundred yards to where the wolves stood guard. I swung the rifle right and scanned the compound instead, most of which was within a thousand yards of us. If he waited for the guard to do his rounds, he could pop him from within six hundred yards. Not an easy shot on a moving target, but not impossible for a decent marksman, either.
I looked again at the targets and nodded. “Just get the roamer and head to the roof before you’re spotted. I need you to trigger the alarm and then get out of sight, so I can finish the job by drawing them to me in the other tower.” I sat up and turned to Gabby. “You know what to do if the wolves start heading up here, right?”
She frowned and tilted her head. “We get out, and fast.”
Sam groaned softly. “Let’s hop
e it doesn’t come to that. I’m too old for all that military operator bullshit.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “Yeah, but you’re not too tough and chewy for a ’thrope to gnaw on.”
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “The images your words paint just fill me with confidence.”
I chuckled. “Wait for the signal, then take that ’thrope out. If you just wound him, don’t take another shot. Drop back and head for the roof, no matter what.”
“Roger that. I’ll keep Gabby safe.”
Colin spoke up from the rear. “Chances are, she’s going to be doing you the same favor, I think.”
I nodded. “He’s right, you know. Gabby’s here to guard your back, just like you need to watch hers. And her senses are a lot keener than yours are, old man, so if she says trouble is on the way, listen to her.” I looked at Gabby as I stood up. “I know I can trust you, kid, but don’t get cocky. If the wolves try to crash your party, you crash theirs first.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall with one foot propped behind her. “I got this. Don’t sweat it.”
“Alright then.” I looked around, trying to find something else to say and failing. I cleared my throat and stated the obvious. “Well, I guess we’d better get this show on the road.”
As we walked out the door, I clapped her awkwardly on the shoulder in farewell. Before I knew it, she had me wrapped in a fierce, breath-stealing bear hug. I froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, then I hugged her back, briefly. She let me go after a few seconds and slugged me on the shoulder. Her eyes were damp, but I knew she wouldn’t cry in front of me, at least not before a mission.
Then she smirked and looked me in the eye. “Don’t get killed, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Right back ’atcha.” Colin was eyeing us both with amusement. I tilted my chin up at him. “You ready?”
“Hell yes, I’m ready. If you two are through having your Oprah moment, then I’d like to get on with kicking some lycanthrope ass.”
We left without another word, with Gabby mumbling behind us. “I still don’t know what an Oprah moment is, damn it.”
30
DOGS
Colin and I set the trip lines on all the booby traps as we headed back upstairs, then everybody got in position on the rooftop while I geared up. For some added protection I donned a ballistic helmet and vest, on which I had my .45’s and the MP7’s strapped where I could get to them immediately. I kept the katana strapped to my back, and I had my Bowie and tomahawk on my belt. Finally, I placed the Stoner light machine gun on its bipod on top of one of the HVAC units, where it provided me with a clear field of fire. I had the LMG set up with a belt-feed system that was attached to eight hundred rounds of silver-tipped 5.56, and it was pointed at the roof access door.
The Stoner would only be good for the rounds on the belt; then I’d fall back to the MP7’s, and finally, the katana. I doubted that there’d be time to lock another belt in place, once the wolves started coming out that door. That was if the Stoner didn’t jam; I’d done plenty of preventive maintenance on it, but it was fussy, especially with reloads. At least I knew I’d have Colin up here with that big-ass sword backing me up if it failed.
I did one last check on our routes of egress, also double-checking the “surprise” I’d set up earlier with Bobby’s help. That little dandy consisted of about forty pounds of Tannerite packed inside an HVAC unit, along with all the scrap metal we could find. Tannerite was an explosive that you could have bought over the counter before the War. A lot of gun guys used it for fun back then, because it would detonate when struck with a high-velocity round. So you haul an old junk car out to your cow pasture, put some Tannerite in it, shoot it, and watch the damn thing get blown to bits. Like I said, fun. It was relatively safe in small amounts, but in larger amounts it could be deadly.
Bobby had lucked out and found a bunch of it at a sporting goods store, and I’d asked him to bring every last bit of it. I had it rigged to blow outward in a near 360-degree radius, and if everything went according to plan, Colin and I would be safely off the roof when Sam hit it with a round from the .50 caliber rifle. If not, we’d both likely be dead and dismembered, right along with any of the wolves still on the roof when it blew. I saw a video once of a guy who’d had his leg completely severed with a piece of shrapnel after packing a lawnmower with just three pounds of Tannerite and detonating it from fifty feet away. So, I figured with forty pounds of it going off, the wolves were going to have a bad day.
With everything set and everyone in place, I gave Sam the signal and waited at the edge of the roof with my M4 and a few grenades. They were mostly just to get the wolves to come in this tower and not the one next door, where Sam and Gabby were set up. I watched the compound with the monocular and waited as their roving guard walked closer and closer to Sam’s range. Earlier, Sam had mentioned that these ‘thropes stayed in their werewolf form all the time, and right now I was definitely looking at a fully-shifted werewolf. This one was covered in brownish-grey fur from head to toe, longer and thicker on the back, shoulders, and hindquarters, and lighter and sparser on the arms, legs, torso, and stomach. Its face was elongated into a very wolf-like muzzle, with sharp, wicked-looking teeth poking out from a mouth that displayed a permanent leer. Sharp, pointed ears stood out at odd angles from its head, swiveling here and there at every little sound. The whole thing rippled with muscle, from its broad, banded shoulders, to its lean, cut torso, to its bizarre, triple-jointed canine legs. It was obviously a beast designed for killing, and there were at least seven more just like it waiting inside the compound.
It moved without a care in the world, secure in the knowledge that it was an apex predator with nothing to fear from its immediate environment. At least, not until six hundred and fifty grains of lead and copper hit it right at the shoulder joint at three thousand feet per second. I heard the sharp report of the rifle just a split-second after I saw the thing’s arm viciously severed from its body. It looked around in confusion for a moment, and upon seeing its arm on the ground and the blood spurting from its severed shoulder, it roared in a way that was both animal and childlike. It reminded me a bit of the sound a wounded coyote makes when it’s calling the rest of the pack; except that it began with a roar of anger, and then faded off into a high, lonesome tone that chilled me to my bones.
The thing clamped a hand over its shoulder and fell to its knees, continuing to howl and whine like a scared puppy. I almost felt sad for it; then I thought about Kara. I glanced at Bobby, who was shifting into his own compact, deadly form. Bobby’s eyes held no remorse for this creature, only a thirst for blood that demanded to be fed. I got the feeling that his pack and the Corridor pack weren’t on the best of terms, and he seemed to be carrying a grudge toward these wolves. Why? I hadn’t a clue. But I’d never seen him in battle with one of his kind before, and I was both excited to see what that would look like, and also frightened for his safety. The last thing I needed was to get the son of the alpha of the Coastal pack killed. I’d damned sure be keeping an eye on him during the battle.
I shifted my gaze back to see what was happening inside the compound and saw werewolves swarming out of buildings left and right. But not just six or eight; the whole pack of fifteen or sixteen wolves came running out. I hollered over my shoulder to Colin. “We got complications! They must’ve found what they were looking for already, because I count sixteen wolves down there!”
I looked back through the optic and saw that several of them looked right at me. Guess I didn’t need to do much to get their attention at this point, but I picked up my rifle just the same and started taking potshots at them. Within moments the entire pack was headed our way, running like a flood toward our position—some on all fours, some on two. In less than sixty seconds, they’d be inside the building. I continued shooting at them as they approached, figuring that any edge we could get would help. I dropped one with a lucky head shot in the parking lot as they approached the build
ing, but decided to save the remaining grenades in case I needed to go out with a bang.
Two down, fourteen to go. I walked over to the Stoner, flipped the safety off, and waited.
We heard the booby traps going off shortly after the wolves started entering the tower. There were several seconds of silence before another one went off. They were moving fast. We’d left the door to the roof access open so we could hear them coming, which meant we heard every cry of anger and pain from the wolves who got hit by frag grenades as they headed up to our position. I had hoped they’d be in a frenzy, and I was right. Dumb sons of bitches kept running into the trip wires, one after another. I counted five detonations in all before somebody got smart and the explosions stopped.
Soon, the whines of the wolves who’d gotten hit by the IEDs became background noise to a cacophony of footsteps, barks, and growls that grew louder and louder. Moments later, three ’thropes came bounding out of the roof access door, mad as hell and looking for a fight. Joe performed his assigned task flawlessly, hitting the clicker on a claymore mine pointing at the door. The impact of seven hundred one-eighth inch steel balls flying at knee level at four thousand feet per second made our point; three wolves lay dead or bleeding to death just outside the doorway, their legs a bloody mess of shattered bone, flayed skin and muscle, and shredded sinews. I now counted five wolves who were down for certain, not including the wounded in the stairwell.
Eleven to go.
Colin bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation to my right, swinging the big sword in slow, sinuous arcs. Every once in a while he let one hand leave the handle to thump his chest with the rhythm of his movements. It was almost hypnotic, the way he moved that big sword, all the while mumbling something in what must’ve been Gaelic under his breath. Seeing him and Bobby chomping at the bit to get at these wolves almost made me think we had a chance.
