by Jan Stryvant
"So why are we driving to Utah?" Geoffrey asked, looking over at Pastor Cross; he'd been out of jail on bail for over a week now and was aching for something, anything, to do. George was currently driving; they'd been on the road for a couple of hours.
"To pick up a couple of trucks."
"What do we need them for?"
Pastor Cross smiled. "The good Lord has answered our prayers once again. He's going to provide us with a weapon those sinful heathen animals cannot stand against!"
Geoffrey blinked, surprised. "I thought it would be weeks before you'd figure something out?"
Pastor Cross laughed. "I told you he would provide, and though his methods may be confusing at times to us mere mortals who follow him, his plans were made clear to me several days ago. It just took convincing our erstwhile allies over at the ALS to gain their help. As they have also lost people to the heathen animal blasphemers, once they saw my plan, the good Lord must have moved their souls, because they immediately moved to help us."
"Praise God," George muttered.
Geoffrey nodded. "Yes, praise the Lord. So what is your plan, Pastor?"
"We're going to make two truck bombs using fertilizer and diesel fuel."
"ANFO?" George asked from behind the wheel. "I've heard that's pretty powerful stuff!"
Pastor Cross nodded and smiled. "Very cheap and hard to trace, too. Especially in farming towns like we have all over the west coast."
"So why didn't we just rent a couple of trucks?" Geoffrey asked.
Pastor Cross frowned. "That's been done several times now, and each time it led to the police catching those involved."
"Well, won't buying them have the same effect?"
"These have been purchased on the black market, for cash. If they manage to trace them anywhere, it's the ALS that'll have to worry, not us."
"Will they have the stuff mixed up for us?" George asked. "Not sure if I want to be driving a huge bomb back over this highway."
Pastor Cross shook his head. "Both will be empty. We're going to need to build a large bin in the back of one truck to hold the mixture first."
"What about the second one?"
"The second one is a tanker truck," Pastor Cross said and smiled slowly. "We're going to need something especially large if we're going to destroy their ranch up in the hills and kill their false god."
Geoffrey laughed. "Can I drive it? Oh, to see the look on their faces when I bust down those gates!"
George took a quick look over at Geoffrey. "Dude, you crazy? You drive that in there, and you won't be coming out."
"They took my daughter, George. They took all I had, I've got nothing left. Besides, I do this and I'll be sitting at the Lord's own table come dinnertime! Maybe it'll make up for some of the things I did back before I heard the Word of God."
Pastor Cross could have cheered. He'd been hoping someone would step up to drive the trucks without him having to exert his considerable influence. That Geoffrey would immediately ask to be one of his martyrs was definitely a sign from God. Geoffrey was respected by everyone; that he'd put his life on the line for this would not be missed by the rest of the congregation.
Placing a sober expression on his face to hide the inner joy he was feeling, Pastor Cross turned to Geoffrey.
"Are you sure you want to do this? This is dangerous job, Geoffrey, and George is right. It will be a one-way journey."
"A one-way journey that kills the blasphemers, achieves the Lord's goals, and will send me to heaven, right, Pastor?"
Pastor Cross nodded slowly. "Yes, Geoffrey, doing this will definitely put you in the Lord's favor. As the first among my flock, if you wish to perform this duty, I will not gainsay your decision, for all that you will be missed. A man must follow his destiny, and any destiny that brings one closer to the Lord is one that I will praise."
Geoffrey smiled and leaned back in his seat. It felt like a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. What had happened with Betty, that had bothered him. The rumors he was hearing had bothered him even more. This simple act would expunge his mistakes. It would mean his end, but he didn't see that he had much of a future in this world anymore.
And he would be doing God's work.
"Thanks, Pastor Cross," Geoffrey said. "Thank you very much."
George shook his head. "You're a better man than me, Geoffrey. I don't think I could do that."
"With me gone, the pastor here is going to need somebody to step up; it's better that you don't go," Geoffrey agreed.
"But then who will drive the other truck?"
"Cheranko."
"Him?" George asked, surprised. Even Pastor Cross's eyebrows went up at the suggestion.
"He's a good man; he's just young. He's here because he wanted to do something important with his life. I don't think he'll be all that hard to convince."
"Thank you for that insight," Pastor Cross said. "I hadn't considered him because of how new he is to the congregation. But if you think he'd be interested, then I'll certainly talk to him once we're back in Reno."
Unconscious Alliance
"Yes, Madam Investigator, you wished to see me?" Karl asked as he walked into the temporary office Hannah was using.
"Yes, Chief Inspector. A most curious thing has happened."
Karl gave her a surprised look. "We've had a breakthrough in the case?"
Hannah frowned at him. "As much as I wish that were so, that's not what has happened. I've been informed by several of my people that they're seeing a large exodus of people from this area."
"Excuse me, Madam Investigator? An exodus?"
"Exactly that, Chief Inspector. So I got in my car and spent the morning driving around the farms and other houses in the country. Do you know what I found?"
Karl shook his head.
"Everyone had packed up and left. When I went into town, I noticed quite a few of the homes were empty, and several people were packing up and leaving."
"That is unusual, Madam," Karl agreed.
"Do you know what they said when I asked them why they were leaving?"
"No, Madam, I do not."
"They said that our lack of progress on those recent murders had led them to decide to go on holiday. That they would be back once the ones responsible had been apprehended."
Karl nodded and kept his face straight. She had nothing, and he wasn't going to give her anything now.
"Most curious, Madam."
"And what would your thoughts on the matter be?"
"That if our superiors back in Berlin were to find out just how badly we've lost the faith of the locals, our jobs would be in jeopardy."
Karl was surprised then as Hannah smiled at him.
"My thoughts exactly, Chief Inspector. My thoughts exactly. I'm glad we're seeing eye-to-eye on this at least. So let's not go mentioning this in any of our reports to our superiors, okay?"
"Of course, Madam Investigator."
"Please, call me Hannah, Karl. As much as this loss of faith concerns me, with fewer people in the area now, I'm sure this will make solving our case that much easier."
"One can only hope, Hannah," Karl said, shaking his head. "One can only hope. I think I'll take a run out there, look over the properties, and make a list of who's gone, so I can alert my staff to keep an eye on those homes."
"Worried about robberies?"
"Actually, I'm more worried that our killers might move into one of them."
"You think they might?"
"We know they're not staying in any of the hotels around here. Living in a house might appeal to them."
Hannah nodded slowly. "I hadn't thought about that. It would certainly make dealing with them easier if we knew where to look."
"I just hope your bosses will send us some support. I'm thinking our old riot vests, truncheons, and nine millimeters aren't going to be enough for this group."
"I'd have to agree with you there, Karl. I'll make some phone calls and see if I can't get some action from Berlin. I'll tell them we have
a possible lead, but we're going to need help taking these people down."
Karl gave a relieved smile; it wasn't perfect, and it wasn't what he'd been expecting when he was called in here, but it was far and away better than anything he'd hoped for.
"Have a good day then, Hannah."
"You too, Karl."
Karl pulled up by the Becker place when he saw something moving through one of the windows. The Beckers had left all their shades open, and whoever was inside hadn't thought to close them.
"Sofia," he called over his radio to dispatch, "this is Karl. I'm at the Becker place. I need to investigate something."
"You want me to send someone out there to back you up?"
"Only if you haven't heard from me in a few minutes. For all I know, they forgot to let their cat out."
"Okay, but do let us know."
"Of course," Karl said. He opened the door and got out, making sure not to close it behind him. If there was someone inside, he didn't want to alert them. And if it was what he feared, he sure didn't want to have to waste any time opening the door to get away.
He thought about drawing his pistol, but he remembered that the police officer in America hadn't had any success with that. Instead, he grabbed his pepper spray. The police-issued version was quite vicious, and hopefully it would give him enough time to escape.
Looking around, he decided to approach the house from the east, using the trees for cover. That side of the house was in the shade, so with any luck, he could peek inside one of the windows without giving himself away.
Creeping forward slowly and being careful where he put his feet, he managed to get to the side of the house without making any noise or being discovered. Flattening himself against the side of the house, he looked around carefully to make sure he was still undiscovered, then he slowly moved towards one of the windows. Sticking his head around the corner, he glanced inside.
There was something there.
It took him a moment; he'd never seen anything like it, and his mind was taking a moment. It was large, it walked on two legs, and it was covered in fur from the top of its head down to its feet. It almost looked like a bear, but it was all the wrong shape, the arms looked like arms, not legs, and it was far too well balanced.
It turned towards him, and he quickly pulled back from the window and found himself staring right into the face of the biggest damn lion he'd ever seen, not that he'd seen more than the one that used to be at the zoo.
He didn't even hesitate; he brought up the pepper spray.
"Wait!"
Pushing the plunger on the spray bottle he let the lion have it full in the face!
The lion made a noise between a scream and a roar as Karl felt something grab his wrist and pull it down, moving the spray away from the lion's face.
"Otto!" the lion growled.
Karl tried to pull away from the lion, which he suddenly realized wasn't a lion. Well, not exactly. It was big, and it was covered in tawny fur, those parts of it that weren't concealed by a nice dress shirt with a pair of slacks… Looking around in a panic, he thought something here wasn't quite right. His right arm was immobilized so he couldn't reach his pistol easily, so he started flailing around with his left arm to see if he could get it to let go of him. It was growling and snarling and yanking him back and forth as it tried to deal with the face full of pepper spray.
Apparently pepper spray worked well on, well, whatever this thing was, though not good enough to make it turn him loose.
"Otto!" the lion growled again, louder.
Karl finally managed to get a grip on his pistol, though the retention hold was giving him problems.
"Karl!" a familiar voice shouted. "Don't shoot him; you'll just piss him off!"
Looking around, Karl saw Otto Hoffner standing there, nude.
"Otto?" he said, looking surprised.
"Yeah, it's me, Otto."
"Why aren't you wearing any clothing?"
"Because you wouldn't recognize me otherwise. You can let him go, Raban."
"Only if he stops with that damn pepper spray! Find me a hose or something!"
"What's going on here?" Karl asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Do you know him?"
"Yes, Karl. I know him. Now drop the pepper spray and let's find the hose. I'll answer all of your questions, after we deal with Raban."
Karl felt the hand holding him release him, and looking back at 'Raban', there was no longer a lion thing standing there. Instead it was a very Nordic looking, middle-aged man, with conservatively cut short brown hair. His eyes were closed, and mucus was pouring out of his nose as his eyes wept tears.
"What is going on?" Karl said, starting to wonder what he'd gotten himself into.
"Water first!" Raban growled. "Explanations second!"
"Come on," Otto said, grabbing Raban's arm, dragging him into the house, and into the kitchen, where he took the sprayer facet and started rinsing out Raban's eyes.
"Okay," Otto said as Raban grabbed the sprayer and started washing his own face. "You can ask questions while I go look for a towel."
"Why are you naked?" Karl asked.
"Because I don't have a collar yet, and shifting ruins my clothes still."
"Shifting?"
"I'm a werewolf, Karl. So's Marge and the kids."
"You left because of the law?"
"No, we left because the lions ordered us all out of Germany."
"Why'd…" Karl stopped that train of thought, it wasn't important. Well, not yet at least. "Why are you here?"
Otto found a towel in the bathroom and started back towards the kitchen. "We heard a rumor that there were demons here. While the lions don't want any lycans in Germany, Raban thought it might be a good idea for someone to investigate."
Karl sighed. "They're here, alright."
"What!" Raban's head came up, and while Karl could see his eyes were still red and weeping, he fixed his gaze on him. "Where are they? Have you seen them?"
"I've seen what they've left behind," Karl said with a heavy sigh. "We don't know where they are yet. I was able to convince most of the locals to get out before they were killed, too."
"What's the government saying?"
"They're covering it up. They sent out a young gung-ho political type who's far more worried about her career than she is anything else."
"Who died?" Otto asked.
"The Youngs were killed, all of them. Same for the Ulmens, and the Schmidts."
Otto dropped down into a chair, shaking his head.
"Do you think you could put some clothes on?"
Otto's body just… transformed would be the only way Karl could have described it, and suddenly there was a very large werewolf sitting in the chair instead.
"Better?"
Karl gulped. "A little. Though I will say you look better than the ones in those movies. Where are your clothes?"
"We snuck in on four legs. I left mine in my car back on the road near the Irvings'."
"I'll take your word for it," Karl said slowly.
Raban took the towel and started to dry himself off.
"Damn, you ruined my shirt!" he complained.
"I almost ruined my pants," Karl said, looking back at him. "What did you expect to happen?"
"Not that, obviously. Here, catch."
Karl caught the large coin Raban tossed him.
"What's this?"
"A magical charm. Keep it on you at all times. Better yet, wear it on a chain and never take it off."
"Why?"
"Because humans are a quick and easy meal to a demon. You can't withstand them; they simply take over your mind and rip out your soul."
"And this will stop them?"
Raban shrugged. "No idea. We haven't experimented with it, as if it doesn't work the subject would die. But it will protect you from most mind spells, so it might give you a chance to run away."
Karl nodded and looked at the coin. It had a lion's head stamped on one side, with
the name 'Valens' inscribed on the back over what looked like a city's skyline. There was also a small hole near one edge, so you could affix it to a chain.
Slipping it into his pocket, Karl looked up at Raban. "Thank you, though I hope I won't be needing it. But that does bring up another question: How do you kill these things?"
"Iron works."
"So does fire," Otto added. "But you'd be better off running away, as Raban said."
"Why?"
"They don't just kill you, Karl. They eat your soul. Your immortal soul."
"I always thought souls were a myth?"
"Right up there with werewolves, magic, and demons, right?" Otto said, causing Raban to laugh.
"Come, you can take us to the homes of the people who were killed so we can try and figure out what we're dealing with," Raban said.
"What if we run into the demons?"
"They can't affect Lycans. We'll deal with them while you run."
Otto suddenly transformed again, and there was a rather large wolf standing in the kitchen.
"This way if anyone sees him with us, they'll just mistake him for a dog," Raban said. "Now, let's go."
§
Sean opened his eyes and stretched, his forepaws out before him as he curled his toes and bent his back, before he shook his head, causing his mane to flare out as his mouth snapped closed and he looked around for the First.
"I really need to spend more time as a lion," Sean grumbled to himself as he spotted the First and padded over towards him.
"Did I hear you right?" the First said as Sean came up to him, and they head-butted lightly.
Sean grumbled and plopped down next to him. "Yeah, the last week has been all work and very little play. I had to bust my ass to get those machines done for you…"
"Thank you very much for that, by the way," the First said. "We've already put them into production."
"Then I had to deal with some upstart Marines who apparently haven't been getting educated. That led to a couple of days of going around to all the new recruits and finding out that no one had given any thought at all to teaching these people their new history."
"Someone stood up to you, did they?"
Sean snorted. "Someone damn near put their foot in it so far I'd have had to take their head off. I nipped that in the bud right fast. But still, it shouldn't have happened."
