Lycan Fallout 1: Rise Of The Werewolf

by Mark Tufo

CHAPTER 3 - Mike Journal Entry Three

  As the day progressed, I felt better and worse. Better because my numerous injuries were healing and worse because of the toll it was taking on me. I needed to feed and I needed to do it quickly. Oggie picked up on my distress as my steps began to falter and I was zigging and zagging more than I was making forward progress. He went into the woods to find us some food.

  I finally found a log with my name on it and sat down hard, nearly missing it completely. I would have lain wherever I had landed. My head was hanging low, my elbows on my knees. It was from this angle I could tell that my clothes had taken a serious beating, a good seamstress with a bolt of cloth wouldn’t be able to put them back together.

  “Least of your problems, buddy,” I said aloud.

  “You can say that again,” a man said as he approached. He was smiling, his top two teeth had vacated his head years ago, and by the looks of his brown-stained smile, they were the smart ones.

  “What can I do you for, friend?” I asked trying to keep my head upturned.

  “You can give me everything you’ve got for starters.” He pointed his half-sword at me. Half-sword because the other half had broken off at some point. The jagged, broken edge still looked mean enough to do some damage, though. The eighteen inches of blade which probably couldn’t cut butter could still be used as an effective bludgeoning tool.

  “Look at me. How much do you think I have?” I asked.

  “Well, less now that I’ve come around I guess.”

  “Man, I thought my time sucked. This new world is no fucking bargain.” I stood slowly gripping a nearby tree for support.

  “You don’t really look like you’re up for a fight,” the man said, placing his piece of steel between him and me.

  “Maybe not me, but my friend there may have a thing or two to say.” Oggie came out of the woods on the other side of the man, he dropped the rabbit he had been carrying, a low, deep grumble formed in his chest and issued forth from his menacing mouth. “Oggie, meet Waylayer. Waylayer, meet Oggie.”

  “The lady said I could take what I want from you, said you wouldn’t be any trouble at all.” The man nervously licked his lips.

  “The lady said?” I asked. “That’s fantastic. I really must have pissed her off. This is twice in less than twenty-four hours she’s tried to kill me. We’re not even dating,” I told the man, as if this would explain her anger at me.

  “I could just leave,” the man suggested; bullies, pirates, thieves, muggers…all of the lower vermin only strike when odds are in their favor, like the cowards that they are. The chances for a successful outcome had been altered, and now he wanted nothing to do with it.

  “Drop your sword thing first,” I told him.

  “It’s all I’ve got to defend myself. There are a lot of bad people in these woods,” he told me.

  “I’m sure there are, and now I’m going to need it to defend myself. Drop it. The last time Oggie, over there, bit a man…took his whole hamstring with him. It was horrible, guy was screaming for his mommy. I think they took his leg off with a saw, don’t really know, we didn’t stick around long enough to find out.” The steel clattered to the ground.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” he said his hands upraised.

  “Yet you came looking for it. Strange. Get the fuck out of here, I’m done with you.”

  The guy began to slowly reach down, at first I couldn’t figure out why…and then I heard it. Back up was coming; the odds were once again shifting. Vegas was going to get whiplash trying to keep up with this betting scheme.

  “Deal’s off then, I suppose?” I asked, as he stood back up sword in hand.

  “What can I say, I’m one of the bad ones, my word doesn’t mean much. Sold my last wife for this sword. I couldn’t just leave it behind.”

  “You are not making a case that men are worthy of saving,” I told him.

  “Did not know I was an emissary for mankind, my lord,” he said mocking me.

  He did not approach, but kept his sword leveled in Oggie’s direction, I’m sure the way I looked he did not consider me a threat, and for the most part he was right.

  “You could still live through this day,” I told him.

  “Oh, I fully intend to.”

  “Listen, I’ve been through a war in the desert, and a zombie invasion. I even lived through dealing with the most evil vampire that has ever roamed the world who was hell bent on my destruction. I survived an alternate reality that involved Night Runners, scary business that was. I’ve killed all manner of men, some just rednecks others trained military killers and just last night I killed a Lycan. What do you think the odds are that I’m going to be done in by a common highway man?”

  Most of what I was saying made absolutely no sense to him, but it was pissing him off for good or bad.

  “Common? Fuck you, twat.”

  “Twat made it and not the middle finger. Weird time…weird time indeed.”

  “I think you’ve got the dumbs.”

  “Been accused of that before. It sure would explain a lot.”

  “Gregor, you there?” one of the men called out from the woods. They were close.

  “Gonna look pretty pathetic, that you, big, strong, strapping Gregor, had to wait for his men as he was held at bay by an unarmed man on his last legs and a puppy. Yeah, they’ll sing songs about you for years. You piece of shit.” A racking cough came out as I spat those last words; a phlegm clot of blood dangled from my lip and fell to the ground.

  The cough probably saved my life as Gregor saw the weakness he needed to make his move. He charged the sword out in front of him. He came without a war cry as he meant to impale me with the blade. I turned, but not enough, he was just fast enough or I was more hampered than I thought. The barbed edge of the blade pierced my side; I involuntarily let out a cry.

  “Bet that fucking hurts,” he said as he drove it in and through. His face was inches from my own.

  “You have no idea,” I told him breathlessly.

  Oggie bounded over and bit deep. The man’s scream was much more high-pitched, and less manly, than my own. As he pulled the sword out, I could feel the pull of it as the blade dragged across my internal organs. The suction caused it to pop wetly as my body released it. His body was turning and he meant to use the short sword on my dog. I used the only weapon available. As he turned, his neck was exposed. I leaned in and tore into him. I ripped twice with my canines and then I let them sink in as I drank. It was easily the most vile and wonderful thing I think I had ever done.

  I felt like Popeye finally getting his can of spinach; only this spinach was laced with steroids. The little blood that spilled was from where Oggie had torn into him. I discarded his husk just as the first of his troops came through the woods.

  The man froze as he looked at me, my long canines were exposed, blood masked the lower portion of my face, and maybe he couldn’t feel the power radiating off of me, but he sure as hell could feel my murderous intent.

  Oggie turned and growled at the new player to our drama. I upturned my face to the heavens with my arms outstretched by my side.

  I roared.

  I roared with the power that coursed through me. The man tried to turn and run, but I was on him before he knew what hit him. My teeth pierced his main artery; his heart was pumping wildly in its flight reflex, which sent copious amounts of his life-fluid coursing into me. I raised his body over my head when I was done and shattered his bones against the nearest tree. Whoever else had been in the woods that day had seen enough, they left quickly.

  I cursed and alternately thanked Azile as I plodded after her. Whether to thank her or end her life I hadn’t decided yet.