Lycan Fallout 1: Rise Of The Werewolf

by Mark Tufo

  ***

  “Ft. Lufkin appears to be the Xavier’s next target,” Azile said to me. I had been summoned to her residence. I hadn’t seen her in close to two weeks and those were her first words to me.

  Good to see you, too, I thought. Well, two people can play that game. “When are we leaving?”

  “I do not believe that to be their primary target,” she said a faraway look in her eyes. “The men that saw them said there were only about a hundred or so humans.”

  “Diversion?” I asked. “But why, what could he possibly fear from us? We’re not on the move.”

  “Not a diversion…impatience.” Azile said finally taking notice of me as if she just realized I was there, which was funny considering she had sent for me.

  “Xavier’s pants getting a little antsy?” I asked. “Big bad wolf wants the world and he wants it now,” I said in my best baby pouty voice.

  “I wish this were a laughing matter.”

  “As do I.” I replied. “I make fun because I’m scared and pissed all at the same time. We still on high alert?” I asked.

  “I have not heard anything from the Landians or my own scouts to indicate that the Lycan are moving further east. No, Xavier will strike here and Ft. Lufkin in three days, believing that both of these will fall as easily as Harbor’s Town. With each coming moon, he will move further east until he has destroyed everything.”

  “Why not the West? I was never a fan of California.”

  “Maybe you should ask him,” she said, smiling.

  I realized I had missed that smile. “I’m sure we can have a spot of tea before we try to kill each other. It’s the civilized thing to do. Do you think he’ll do the raised pinkie?” I asked, mimicking someone of more culture than myself. Didn’t really have to look that hard, even in this severe day and age I found myself in.

  She was looking at me with curiosity. I really didn’t like being under that much scrutiny, especially from a woman, the longer one looked at me, the more likely she would be to find something wrong. I knew a way around this. I’m not going to pretend to say I know women; even as long as I’ve been alive, they are still a complete and utter mystery, but that isn’t to say I haven’t discovered some weapons of my own against their beguiling nature. So listen up if you’re a man and you have discovered this journal – if you’re a woman, God help us all.

  Okay, the best way to deflect attention off yourself is to get a woman talking. Sounds stupid, right? Watch this…

  “Azile, what happened to you after?” I was referring to one of our last battles against the zombies. She had slipped out into the night. I had never known why. She never told anyone. I had chalked her up as another loss in a sea of them. That was of course until Tommy let me in on his little secret. “I spent close to a week looking for you. Never did so much as find a sign. I was half convinced you had learned how to fly.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something,” she said wistfully.

  “So you can’t?” I asked. She shook her head. “Because, really, that would be pretty cool. There have been so many flying male superheroes that always take their girlfriends for a spin up in the clouds…I just think for once it would be nice to have it the other way around. You know, like maybe I could strap a saddle to your back and we could go check out the sites.”

  “A saddle?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “If I’m going to fly, I’d like to do it in style. You know…maybe even have a cup holder or two so I could put my beer in it. You really wouldn’t want to hold me in your arms would you? That seems like it would be a little awkward.”

  “I’d probably just drop you…and not because I wasn’t strong enough.”

  “Point taken.”

  “I had to leave.”

  “I saw the change in you after, you could have come to any of us for help,” I told her.

  “How many of you were versed in the effects of witchcraft on the spirit?” she asked sadly.

  “I read the Cliff Notes.”

  She had to grab at her stomach as she involuntarily laughed. When she recomposed herself, she spoke. “I’d always had a proclivity for witchcraft. I guess I hadn’t known what it was when I was a kid. I’d make matches light without striking them on anything.”

  “That’s called a lighter,” I told her, she smiled.

  “You do remember you asked me, right?”

  “Sorry, it’s a bit more difficult to shut off than one might imagine.”

  “How about now?”

  “I’m good,” I told her.

  “I used to do small stuff – the match for one. I had an ability with animals. Nothing miraculous, I didn’t bring them back from the dead. But injuries they suffered tended to heal quicker if I touched them. Back when I was a girl, I wasn’t truly sure…maybe I just wanted to be special…to be different, distinct, you know?”

  “What teenager doesn’t want to?” I asked, I always thought the song the Beatles sang about ‘Ain’t nothing you can do that hasn’t been done’ (I’m paraphrasing because I haven’t actually heard music in a century and a half – that one still stung) was actually pretty sad. What kind of world would we be living in if there was never going to be anything unique.

  She nodded. “Little things, like I said. Sometimes it was just knowing when we were going out to eat, or maybe when the phone was going to ring. When I was old enough and I knew what it meant, I tried to figure out the winning lottery numbers.”

  “Any luck?” I asked curiously.

  “When you found me in that truck was I wearing a tiara?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “No…no tiara.”

  “There’s some sort of protective realm in regards to personal gain and witchcraft at least on this side of the dividing line.”

  “Dividing line?”

  “Good, bad, white, black, whatever term makes sense to you.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “It was taking its toll on me, though. The usage, I mean, like I was dipping into a well with a very finite supply. Everything I did seemed to strip a little more of me away.”

  “That sounds terrifying,” I told her honestly.

  She did pause for a second to see if I was being sincere. “Leaving all of you was among one of the hardest things I’d ever done. By the time I got up the nerve to do so, I was already beginning to feel like a ghost…no substance whatsoever.”

  I wanted to give her comfort, yet I had no words of solace. I’d had no idea she had been going through that. To be fair, I was wrestling my own demons and we were still in the midst of a war, tough to stop and ask people how they’re doing. Besides, we were all suffering in multiple ways – outwards and inwards if that makes any sense.

  “I can’t imagine how you thought leaving would be a good idea. You left a lot of people wondering and worried.”

  “I’m so sorry I never got to say my good-byes.” She bowed her head.

  “Me too.” But I was sorry because I had to my say good-byes.