by M. D. Massey
I nodded in respect. “Manicures must be a bitch with those things.” I looked at Gabby. “You hiding any super-powers, sweetheart?”
“I’m not a shifter, but don’t worry about me. What do you need us to do?”
“Silent sentry takeout only. We’re going to head 200 meters out to the north and south, take out any picket sentries we find, and meet 400 meters beyond their ambush point. If we do this right, they won’t know we got past them until we’re in the settlement and raising the alarm.”
Both kids nodded, and I motioned to the girl. “Gabby, you’re with me.”
She shook her head. “Seriously? That horse is going to be too loud for you to sneak up on anyone, and you know you’ll need it after we’re past. You should just let me go ahead and clear a path.”
I considered the ethical ramifications of sending an eleven-year-old ahead to do a man’s work, and realized it might be the most logical choice, if not the most moral. “You sure you can handle it?”
She pulled out her Kabar, and her eyes were hard as stone. “Don’t worry, I got this.” Then she and Bobby took off through the trees like silent death. I briefly reflected on the insanity of a world that could turn kids into killers so young, then shrugged off the thought and began walking the horse off the road on Gabby’s trail. Her sign was hard to spot, but she was moving fast so I could still see where she’d come through. About the time I came parallel to the suspected ambush point, I saw a bare arm poking out from behind a tree. I tied off the horse on a low-hanging limb, and stalked up to the spot.
I detected zero movement from whoever was on the other side; this person definitely wasn’t breathing. As I rounded the tree I saw a corpse staring out into space, with a look of surprise on his face that said he’d never seen it coming. There was some blood around the collar of the dirty brown T-shirt he was wearing under a plaid flannel long-sleeve. I tilted the corpse’s head forward to reveal a four-centimeter horizontal stab wound at the base of the skull. Clean. I wondered where she learned how to kill that cleanly and silently. I shook my head and went back for the horse, walking it ahead as quietly as possible until I was well past the dead sentry’s position.
Gabby and Bobby were waiting for me, right where we’d planned. “Any problems?”
Bobby shook his head no. “Not unless you count a close encounter with lice. Good golly, I hope I don’t catch them. Nasty.” Then he shivered and made a face like he’d just cracked a rotten egg.
I turned to the girl. “Gabby?”
She just shook her head in silence, and not a single expression of remorse cracked the hard exterior she’d donned the very moment she drew her knife. I’d worked with professional operators who showed more emotion and less nerve. It chilled me to the bone to see her sudden transformation from tweenie to assassin; not many people had the ability to flip the switch like that.
“Alright then, let’s get going. We have about four and a half miles to cover before we hit the settlement. I looked over to Bobby, who was sniffing the air again. “Another ambush?”
He shook his head and looked off ahead toward the settlement. “No, boss, smoke. I think the town is burning.”
Thanks to a warm front coming in from the Gulf, we’d had the wind at our backs the entire trip back, so it wasn’t surprising that we didn’t smell it sooner. However, as we got closer to town I could see a low cloud of smoke hanging over the settlement, and before long even I could smell the stench of destruction in the air. I pushed the little mustang as hard as I could without killing it, and feared the little horse might be crippled after tonight. However, the fear of losing Kara loomed over me like a summer storm that was ready to rain hell on everything in its path, and I’d sacrifice anything to prevent that from happening.
As we pulled into the settlement I could see we were already too late. The gates were torn wide open, and there were bodies strewn here and there as we entered town. The smell of death and smoke cast a pall on the town, but all the while I held on to the slim chance that Kara had made it through. I spurred the horse on and made a beeline for Kara’s house.
When I rode up, I knew that Kara wouldn’t be there. Her dogs were dead on the front porch, mutilated almost beyond recognizing, and the front door was hammered in and hanging from a single hinge like a marionette with all but a single string cut. I dismounted at a run and ran inside the house with my HK up, clearing rooms as I moved forward at a brisk, almost suicidal pace.
Despite my panic, I resisted the urge to call out. Gabby came in behind me, with Bobby on her heels. Gabby watched my six, while Bobby took the other side of the house. We met at the back of the house and he shook his head.
“Nothing, Scratch. I can smell someone was here, a female, but—”
“Wolves?”
He nodded once. “At least three. They came in through the front door after killing the dogs. I smell gun powder, and I saw some blood in the back room—wolf, not human—so I think she must’ve wounded one.”
“No human blood?”
“No, none. I’m pretty sure they took her alive.”
Gabby put a hand on my arm. “It’ll be okay, Scratch. We can track her.”
I slumped down in a kitchen chair, and let the rifle sag to the floor. “And what then? You think we can take on a dozen ’thropes, or ten, or even three?”
She stood silent, and looked down at the floor. Then in a small quiet voice, she spoke. “No matter what, I’m with you. We can get her back.” At that, she holstered her pistol and walked off to the front of the house.
Bobby pulled up a chair and sat down across from me. “We won’t have to track them.”
I looked up as if he were throwing me a lifeline. “What do you mean?”
“Because, I know where they’re taking them. It’s where they take all the humans—they have this compound in Austin. I don’t know what they do there, but I was there once before I escaped. They were prepping it for the humans back then, getting it ready to hold them there.”
“And you can find this place?”
“Sure, yeah I can find it. I mean, I’m pretty sure. It’s been a few years, but I remember it pretty vividly. It was like, some research place or something, on the north side of town. Yeah, I can take you there.”
I picked up my rifle and called out, moving fast for the front door. “Gabby!”
She was waiting on the front porch. She’d been petting the mutilated carcass of Kara’s Rhodesian Ridgeback, and wiped the blood off on the floor as she stood up. “I’m here.” She looked at me with a tear in her eye. “They fought, you know—they gave their lives trying to protect her.”
“I know. I wish I’d been here with them.”
She crossed her arms and tucked her hands in her armpits, as if to ward off a chill, but it wasn’t cold out at the moment. “You’d have died with them.”
“Maybe.” I scratched the back of my neck where I’d felt the hackles raise, just a moment ago at what she’d said. “How long?”
“To follow them?”
“No—how long does it take for the doc to do her thing?”
She rubbed her arms, slowly, taking her time in answering. “I don’t remember how long it took for me, because I was young when she did it. But I’ve heard her talk about it a lot. A few days, at most. Then weeks until the treatments take full effect.”
I slammed my fist on a support pillar. “I don’t have weeks!”
“I know, but from what I understand you’ll start noticing—changes—within a day or two. But you won’t have the full benefits for at least a few weeks.”
Still, that might give me the edge I needed to get Kara back. I nodded, because all I could do was accept it. “Let’s run a sweep of the town, check for any survivors. Look for fresh horses, ’cause we’re headed back the way we came.”
Bobby spoke up. “You sure you want to go through with this? I mean, Gabby here seems fine, but I can tell you from experience, there’s no going back from it once it’s been done to you.
”
I ignored his question. “Be ready to roll out in a half hour.” Then I shouldered my rifle and took off for the back of the house. I needed more firepower, something with enough juice to take down a full-blown alpha ’thrope, and keep him down for good. Thankfully, I had just the tool in mind. God help those ’thropes, because I was coming after them like Wyatt Earp, and bringing hell with me.
EPISODE 3
Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Stephen Crane, from War Is Kind
1
Killing
As I walked into Kara’s garage to access my weapons cache, I heard a sharp creak from the rafters above, as if the attic floor was settling under some unexpected burden. Like many modern tract homes, Kara’s garage was drywalled and left half finished by the builders, so it was impossible to see what, if anything, was up there. To be safe, I drew one of my Glocks and backed away from the sound, and then used my free hand to throw a wrench across the garage.
No sooner had the wrench clattered on top of my workbench than the drywall ceiling exploded above me, and a fully shifted werewolf came crashing down into the garage with me. Without hesitation I began emptying a mag into the thing, pelting its dark-grey-and-black fur with round after round of silver-tipped .45 hollow-point ammo. I could see holes appearing in the creature’s hide as the rounds hit, only to partially close and stop bleeding almost instantly. In spite of the lack of blood, I knew my efforts were at least having some effect, as the thing howled bloody murder and turned toward me with a wicked gleam in its yellow eyes.
My sidearm locked open as the last round left the chamber, and I was already moving laterally toward the door as I grabbed a mag from my belt pouch and reloaded. But just as I dropped the mag home, the wolf swiped the pistol from my hands and sent it clattering across the garage. It must have leapt the distance between us when I was reloading, as just a moment before it was fifteen feet away on the other side of the garage. Never could get the knack for reloading without looking at my weapon; I made a mental note to put that on my to-do list, if I was still alive tomorrow.
As the ’thrope swiped at me again, I dive-rolled out of the garage and through the hall doorway, drawing my other Glock left-handed as I came up on one knee. I stitched the wolf from stem to sternum with .45 ACP as it came bounding through the garage entry, howling like a banshee and slobbering all over the hall carpet. Again, I watched as the rounds hit, punching holes that left small, smoking cavities, but that didn’t bleed. I could only assume that, as with the .223 round that had hit Gabby, the silver in the rounds would prevent the ’thrope from fully healing. I silently hoped that would at least slow it down, and I rocked up to a standing position as I backpedaled down the hallway with Cujo bounding after me.
Once I hit the living room, I turned into a full run and high-jumped over Kara’s sectional couch. As I landed, I grabbed the only weapon at hand, which happened to be an authentic assegai spear that I’d picked up at an “estate sale” a few years back. “Estate sale” was scavenger speak for hitting the jackpot, and this particular piece came from some rich white hunter’s ranch who’d eaten a bullet not long after the deaders showed up. I’d taken a fancy to it and decided it’d look good over Kara’s fireplace, and despite having a disagreement about my design aesthetic, she’d relented when I pointed out the utility of the thing. I’d have to thank her for giving in on that one, once I got her back from the Corridor pack.
Before I could turn to face my attacker, I caught a flash of black and grey in my peripheral vision and dropped to a crouch, simultaneously spinning the spear in one hand and driving it back behind me with the butt jammed into the fireplace and the tip pointing up at a sixty-degree angle. I felt more than saw the ’thrope land on top of me, and figured I was a goner, as that thing’s claws were sure to rip me to shreds once it got close to me. I collapsed under the bulk of the werewolf and twisted under it in an effort to turn into the attack and defend myself. However, as I rolled over the creature fell off to my right, allowing me to roll away and spring to my feet unharmed.
As I stood up, I could see exactly why I hadn’t been turned into wolf kibble, as the assegai’s shaft was protruding out of the wolf’s solar plexus at an angle that ensured it had pierced the wolf’s heart. The creature was pawing and grasping at the spear shaft in a vain effort to slide it out, but without much success. Frankly, I was surprised that it was still moving at all. Fearful that it might dislodge the spear and come at me again, I drew my combat Bowie in a reverse grip and leapt into the air, landing on top of the creature as I drove the blade into the wolf’s skull. With the knife blade buried to the hilt in its brain, it jerked once, and finally went still.
I was still catching my breath when I heard footsteps hit the front porch, followed close behind by someone with a lighter step. Bobby burst into the room with a panicked look on his face, followed by Gabby, who took one look at the scene and ran to the kitchen to vomit in the sink.
I yelled after her, “Don’t use the good dish towels to wipe that up, or Kara’ll be pissed!” I groaned my way up to a standing position as Bobby rushed to my side to support me. “I’m alright, I’m alright —don’t even think I’ll have any bruises to speak of.” I shrugged Bobby hands off and collapsed on the couch.
The young ’thrope looked at me in awe. “Holy shit, boss—do you know what you just did? Nobody’s ever done that before, and I mean no one.”
“What, killed a ’thrope? Surely there’ve been people who have managed that before me.” I winced and checked my left knee. It was popping and crackling a bit, and I was pretty sure I might have twisted it when that wolf landed on my back.
Bobby shook his head and just kept looking back and forth at the wolf and me with a stunned look on his face, as Gabby walked back into the living room, still looking green around the gills. Then she plopped down on the couch next to me and started bawling.
I looked to Bobby, and Bobby looked back with his hands up in that universal “shit, dude, your guess is as good as mine” gesture that guys all know so well. I rolled my eyes at him and mouthed “thanks,” then leaned forward and laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“Gabby, it’s okay—I wasn’t hurt. Look at me, I’m fine.” I lifted my shirt. “See, not a scratch.”
She turned and looked over, then wiped her eyes and gave a halfhearted backhand punch at my shoulder. “Gross, Scratch—you’re almost as hairy as the wolf over there.” She gave a weak smile and rocked back and forth against the couch, hugging her knees to her chest as she did so. “Sorry for the meltdown, but this is all just a bit overwhelming. First my uncle disappears and leaves me with Captain Perez, and then she sends me off to find you and tells me to keep you alive no matter what, and you almost get eaten by a freaking ’thrope—” She paused and wiped snot and tears out of her face. “It’s just a little much, ya know?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I know.” I looked up at Bobby. “Mind telling me why you’re still catching flies with that motormouth of yours?”
He sunk back into a recliner and stared at me wide-eyed. “It’s just that, well—no one’s ever managed to kill one of us. I mean, not up close and personal. As far as I’m concerned, you just won the badass-of-the-year award, hands down.”
I shrugged. “I filled it with at least fourteen rounds of silver-tipped .45-caliber hollow points, and the damned thing still kept coming. Kept trying to hit it center mass hoping for a kill shot, but it moved so fast it was all I could do hit it as many times as I did. If that spear hadn’t been in easy reach, I believe I’d be puppy chow right about now.”
Bobby whistled. “That ain’t no pup you killed, he’s a full-grown beta, second generation. That’s no joke, they don’t go down ea
sy. If you’d have hit me with that many rounds of silver, I’d have been out of the game. But this bad boy, he’s running on 190-proof alpha-gene mojo, straight from the source. I’d bet money that this is one of Van’s favorite hit men. They weren’t foolin’ around with you, that’s for sure.”
I was unconvinced. “Yeah, but they only sent one wolf. Seems like a halfhearted effort to me.”
Bobby laughed. “Scratch, one wolf like this one can take out an entire settlement. Trust me, they meant for you to sleep with the fishes tonight.”
Gabby gave me a look that said she didn’t get it. “It’s from The Godfather, an old movie from the seventies about organized crime. It means someone killed you and dumped your body in a lake or river.” She nodded as if to say that it only made minimal sense to someone raised in a postapocalyptic world.
Bobby sucked in through his teeth and sat up like someone stuck a light socket up his ass. “Oh, shit! When this dude doesn’t report back in, they’re going to send a full kill team after you. We gotta get the hell out of here, and fast.”
I sighed. “Alright, let me get some things together and we’ll be gone in a half hour.” I leaned forward and ran my hands through my hair, and wished to hell that I still smoked. And that I could still get a pack of Dunhills and a nice Cohiba any time I wanted from Heroes and Legacies in Austin. “Did you guys find any horses?”
“Yeah, and some donkey-looking thing that wouldn’t let me near it. It kept following Gabby around, so we just led it back here along with the horses we rounded up.” He shrugged and pursed his lips in a frown. “I figured I could eat it later if I got hungry.”
I got up and stomped on the ’thrope’s chest, and then pulled the assegai from its corpse with a loud sucking sound. I turned and pointed the tip at Bobby, still dripping wet with werewolf blood. “If you even think of eating my mule, I’ll shove this thing so far up your ass you’ll be wearing a pointed hat to your funeral.” He backed up and yelped a bit, not unlike a coyote that just got pelted with birdshot at range. “Now, help me drag this thing outside before it ruins Kara’s rugs.”
