by Mark Tufo
“Lunos, you must stop this madness,” Kwan said, his voice loud, his words spoken clearly. All activity ceased, and all eyes, werewolf, Lycan, and human were upon him.
“Says who?” Lunos asked; he was looking from side to side for any signs of a trap. He did come closer to Kwan, but he was surrounded by at least twenty werewolves. It was like using children to defend a general. The more I saw him, the more I hated him. I’d once known in my heart that he was the more dangerous enemy; I should have struck when I had the chance. For all the shit I do on the fly, I can’t believe I missed that golden opportunity. At the time I needed that unlikely alliance.
“The clans will not allow this.”
Lunos laughed. “The clans? Those broken down tribes? Where are those valiant warriors that you speak of? On the verge of victory, they scatter to the winds, broken over the backs of three women and an Old One. Are you their emissary? To the strongest force in their nation they send one injured and sick Lycan? Should my fur tremble at your presence?”
“I am but the first to warn you that your course of action will lead to your ruin,” Kwan told him.
“Kill him,” Lunos urged his guards. Five werewolves moved forward.
“You would send tainted ones to murder me? Have you no honor?”
“Honor? Oh...you wish me to fight you in mortal combat? Is that it? I do not sully myself with the drudgery of fighting. A king cannot be expected to...”
“King?” Kwan laughed. “The last to claim that title lies dead, picked clean by carrion birds, and placed there by an Old One. An Old One who has once again risen to warn us of this abomination of reign.”
“Michael Fucking Talbot,” Lunos growled.
Have to admit, chills ran up my spine, but not from Lunos. Soldiers on the walls of Denarth had heard and a loud cheer rose up. They knew help was out there. An increase in morale might be all they needed. The problem now was, would Lunos continue to play the waiting game, or would he go into a high gear assault?
“Fuck your honor!” Spittle flew from Lunos’ muzzle as he urged his warriors on, who inhumanely ripped into Kwan. In perfect health, he may have had a decent chance to take the werewolves on, but not after three days of running, injured, and burning with a fever. It occurred to me that foresight of this scenario may have been the reason for Mikota’s kindness on the road. Still, even in his depleted condition he managed to kill two of the guards. With a single swing he had struck the first one so violently on the side of the head that he broke its neck. The second he had sliced his long claws into its stomach with such force that he was forearm deep in the aggressor. That werewolf was going to die, but it hadn’t stopped him from biting down on Kwan’s ear and pulling his head closer to him. By this time, another three were near enough to begin tearing into the bigger beast.
One had circled behind and bit deeply onto the back of his thigh, effectively hamstringing him. I involuntarily winced at the pain I knew he had to be feeling. Once he fell backward, his neck became exposed and two werewolves went after it like horny teenagers under the bleachers during the homecoming game looking to give a world class hickey while their parents were in the stands above them. Hey man, don’t judge me—I was fifteen, they were twins, and I had been heading to the locker room after the first quarter to get a piece of equipment fixed. Oh...Sara and Tara...how I miss you so. Got a lot of weird looks from my teammates when I came back and my neck looked like I had got into a fight with an octopus and lost. Could have tackled an opposing player with the rager I had for half the next quarter. I mean, I didn’t, because, well, that would have been awkward, but the damned thing just wouldn’t go down. That was, of course, until I got my bell rung from an illegal block, then it was hard to think about anything other than the little birds swirling around my head.
Sara and Tara hadn’t been too keen on continuing our petting session after our team beat theirs. Had I known the price of that victory I might have taken a dive. ‘Cause lord knows I remember those two way more than I remember the score of that game. I learned a valuable lesson that day; even in victory you can lose. Though now that I’m thinking about it, more than likely they wouldn’t have hooked up with me had we lost, either. It had all been a ploy to get me distracted. Fuck it. I’m glad we trounced the shit out of Norwood, 32 to 12. Fuck yeah I remembered the score. Sara, Tara, if your great-great-grandkids are reading this...call me.
I’d traveled away mentally so I could be spared what was happening in the here and now. I couldn’t even see Gimpie anymore, he was on the ground. But that hadn’t stopped the attack. Tufts of fur, spurts of blood, and coils of meat were being flung up into the air with abandon. It would appear that tainted ones held as much hatred in themselves for Lycan as the reverse.
“Old One...are you out there?” Lunos called out once the savagery of the attack was over and his guards returned to the fold. I noticed that not one werewolf went out and checked on their two lost compatriots. It was definitely interesting to note that they had no camaraderie amongst their own kind even in this new regime. “You are. I can smell your foulness upon the air!” He was baiting me, and I didn’t care. I wanted to take that baiting from him and shove it down his throat. Mikota looked over to me. He wasn’t going to stop me. I’d shown him Lunos’ madness and if I went out there I’d show him mine, right before a dozen werewolves sent me on my merry way to the pearly gates.
“Denarth is mine, Old One. Every day a few more of them defect when they realize there is no hope within those walls. Every day more of them become sick from malnutrition. It is the old and the young that suffer the most; they are dying in there and you can do nothing about it!”
“I’ll fucking show you nothing,” I said quietly. Mikota motioned for the Lycan to move, they were running before I got that first shot off. Drilled a fucking werewolf guard in the center of his forehead; his eyes crossed as it looked like he was trying to see where he’d been hit. Would have been an incredible shot if that was where I’d been aiming. The sights were off by almost a foot to the right and the same in elevation. I didn’t have time to adjust the apertures; I would have to go with good old Kentucky windage, which basically meant I was going to aim a foot higher and a foot wider to the left than I needed. Not the optimum means of acquiring a target, but I was pressed for time. Twenty werewolves had peeled off and were speeding in my direction. Plus, Lunos was actively seeking a safer haven.
There was a howl of rage as I put a round squarely into his shoulder. His holler of pain was immediately drowned out by the cheers of those in Denarth. That was all great and fine but he wasn’t dead, and he’d been completely obscured by those around him whom I would gladly send to Valhalla or that great farm in the sky, but I had a more pressing problem barreling down on me and I needed to adjust my aim if I was going to have any chance of getting out of here.
“So fast,” I think I muttered as I tried to track them with my sights. I was finally beginning to comprehend how screwed I was; this was when I figured it was a good time to bolt. The point of no return was smacking me upside the head. The Lycan douche bags had left—good to see how handy they were going to be in a pinch. Howls of victory were closing in and that’s when I heard the first volley of shots ring out. The Talbotons were helping my retreat, basically saving my ass. They’d cut down so many of them that the rest had turned and were heading back, tails shoved up their asses like furry plungers to clean the shit out. I mean, most likely not, but it’s what I chose to picture, so doesn’t that basically make it real? Another loud cheer came from the wall. I had the feeling they’d not had much to cheer about these last few weeks. I did a wave and a small bow before I went to find the Lycan. Always the showman.
“Hey, thanks for the back-up,” I told Mikota when I caught up with them.
“I had more than hoped they would have killed you.”
“You’ll get your chance to die, flea-bag, just like all the others before you. Now before you go all growling, howling, and showing me your wicked l
ong teeth, you saw what the fuck you needed to see. You going to tell the clans or not?”
I was more than a little surprised he had not yet launched himself at me. He showed more restraint than I would have, had our roles been reversed. Kind of weird to think I was more of a loose cannon than this actual wild animal.
“I will tell the clans,” he said.
“I’m not coming with you.”
“You are backing out of our agreement?” This time, he did take a step forward.
“Relax. You and I are still on. In fact, I look forward to it.” I was not, but I needed it to sound convincing. I’ve got to believe Mikota wasn’t buying a word of it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to keep talking a good game. Shit-talking was half the game—my game, anyway. “We both know I’ll just slow you up, plus, I’m not sure we could keep each other from hacking away before the Lunos issue is resolved. We need to remember that this is bigger than just you and me; both of our kinds’ ultimate future hangs in the balance of a very unsteady alliance. No one needs you and I fighting upon that precarious balance, trying to tip it prematurely in our favor.”
“And what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I’m going into Denarth to help where I can.”
“They will not hold out much longer.”
“Then you better hurry your ass up.”
He took one step closer. My muscles were coiled tight, we were as close to blows as we had ever been. He made sure I could see just how much bigger he was than me as I craned my neck to look up at him.
“You move any closer, sasquatch, and I’m going to expect a kiss and dinner.”
He grumbled something and the group started to move away. Mikota made a great show of holding his position a few more heartbeats before turning to follow. Wish I could lie and say I did not let out a huge pent-up breath. But as I said, it would have been a lie.
“Now what, Talbot?” The thought of being cooped up and confined within the walls of Denarth while the citizenry suffered sounded about as much fun as having your privates waxed. Not that I ever have, but I can only imagine the pain that comes with that particularly odd grooming behavior. I wanted to scope out Lunos’ camp but I wasn’t sure that was feasible or wise. He had more werewolves than I could count and now they were going to be on high alert. They knew we were out here and would not let their guard down. But I didn’t have to get too close to put a bullet in Lunos or his magic performing buddy, and either’s death would be a boon to our side.
Whatever I decided to do, it would have to wait. I could hear roving patrols of werewolves moving in the woods, looking for myself and Mikota. I looked to Denarth but instead turned and went farther into the woods. I heard howls from the werewolves, then the running of multiple feet. They’d picked up Mikota’s trail and were now in hot pursuit.
“Not going to be able to drag your feet now, big guy.” I laughed. I was glad I hadn’t said it too loud; not all the werewolves had departed. I could use my gun, but my best option was to stay silent. If they thought I left with the others, that would be for the best. My strategy right now was to get away. There had been a good sized stream a few miles back; that was where I was headed. They’d lose my scent and I could circle back. Lunos would still be leery, but maybe I could take the edge off his caution. I stopped every quarter mile or so to gauge whether I was being followed. Near as I could tell they’d not picked up my trail. Worked for me. Ran for another mile then slowed to a walk. Nothing, not so much as a howl, in the distance. The woodland creatures were going about their business, unconcerned with my presence.
Seems I’d caught a bit of a break, but I could not help thinking: like the video games of old, I’d been given a “save point” right before the real shit was about to go down. I walked in calf-deep water for a few hundred yards and when I figured it was safe, I walked another few hundred before exiting on the side opposite I’d come in on. The waterway traveled north to south, and Lunos was east of here. Figured I’d go up a few miles, then head due east and come into Lunos’ area from the north. I’m sure he’d have guards there, but most likely he wouldn’t be expecting anything from that direction, or so I hoped. I knew Denarth was in trouble, but there wasn’t a whole shitload I could do on my own. And, no shit if it wasn’t nice to walk for once. Getting a bunch of food in my belly and getting my legs and stamina back was priority one.
Scoping out Lunos as best I could and getting into Denarth were priorities two and three respectively. I decided to keep heading north for a few miles more. Figured game would be more prevalent in these less traveled parts, though I don’t know who the fuck I was kidding, all of these parts were less traveled. We were almost to the point again where nature could nearly reclaim what was once all her own. Though she would not have a conscientious overseer in Lunos. I needed to figure out what his Green Man was all about. I had my doubts he was working under Lunos’ rule, more likely side by side with the intent of taking over at some point...but for what reasons? If people were all but gone, what did he hope to have sovereign authority over? King of Nothing was about as enticing as ghostly filet mignon. Sounded good in theory, but had no substance.
Green Man had an ulterior motive, so, just what the hell was it, and could it be exploited? By the time it was all said and done, I had to have been close to ten miles from Denarth. I was on a small ridge, maybe twenty feet higher than the surrounding terrain—plenty enough to see down into a small clearing which was about two hundred yards across and double that in width. A little pond of water, roughly the size of an Olympic pool, was offset from the middle. Had to have been a few hundred birds swirling around, even a few ducks. Thought about taking a shot, but shooting at birds two hundred yards away is tantamount to wasting rounds. Then I heard the familiar honking of geese, Canada geese. The same damn geese that had been protected by the Fish and Game Department of the United States. Which, at the time, was fine. I’m just remembering that the bastards used to shit by the metric ton wherever they landed. I know it drove land owners nuts when they couldn’t blast them.
Fifty or sixty of them peeled off from the main group and made splashing water landings to get a drink and a breather. They took up the entire body of water; missing was not a possibility. Three rounds in, I’d put two birds down. I was running like the dinner bell had been sounded and I had to eat fast before there was nothing left. My intention had been deer, but this would do just fine. I snapped the neck of one still thrashing around, spent the better part of an hour de-feathering the two birds, gutting them, cleaning them out pretty good by washing their bodies in a stream, and it was then, as I was walking back to where I was going to spend the night, I realized I didn’t have a goddamned fire.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I held them up so I could see the, large, freshly prepared birds; looked like something I could have gone down to the local supermarket and picked up, and I couldn’t wait to eat them. I was determined there and then to build me a first-rate fire and quickly. Odds of success were low, but what choice did I have? First thing I thought to do was see if there was some more flint in the small pack Azile had given me, I’d beaten the shit out of the other piece. I rooted around for a few seconds. I sat down heavily on my ass and let out a laugh as I pulled out the brightly colored, small, plastic item. It was a brilliant-blue Bic lighter.
“You are one of the best women I have ever known in my life, Azile.” I spun the dial with my thumb; a nice flame ignited. An hour later and I was tearing into some roasted fowl and it was fucking heavenly. I was sated after I licked the grease from the first bird off my fingers. By the time I packed the second one away, I could barely move. As I lay on my back I looked about eight months pregnant, judging by how my stomach pooched out.
“I could still eat some apple pie,” I told the stars. “Maybe with some Cool Whip or even some vanilla bean ice cream. Oh, wouldn’t that just be phenomenal.” My eyes were getting heavy just as a familiar sight from days gone by flew high overhead. “Are y
ou kidding me? A satellite? Those are still up there? Wonder if I could still watch MTV.” I tracked it to the horizon and my lids fell shut heavily with its passing.
Chapter 15
MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 14
* * *
WHEN I AWOKE the next morning, I fully expected to be surrounded by a pack of something, whether it was werewolves, Ewoks with sharp sticks, or maybe just vigilante geese looking to avenge the deaths of their friends Bernie and Crenshaw. Just something, anything, that was in a serious rush to kill me. Again, nothing. Not so much as an ant, irate because I’d slept on the south tunnel opening and he was going to have to work overtime to get it back up and running. This chapter in my existence had the habit of keeping the life-o-meter pegged in the red. And, if we were going to keep our averages up, that meant the next few days had to be in the over-burn position.
I was still full from the night before, but I was also still wondering what the odds of another flock dropping in for dinner were. I knew I was about to go traipsing through puddles of shit, and now I wasn’t in quite such a rush. Sounds all fine and fun when you have nothing to live for, but now that I had Azile and the babies and me and the geese were getting acquainted, well, I mean you can’t blame me for not wanting to be on the receiving end of something nasty. I was thinking of any excuse to stay just a little longer; I had an idyllic view, filled with the beauty of no one trying to kill me. Hadn’t been able to say that in a while. I was thinking about dislocating a shoulder or two and having to stay until they were fine, like maybe a week or two. Fuck it. Maybe a decade or two. The kids would be past those brutal teenage years and we could go out and grab a beer together to reconnect.
