Lycan

by John O'Brien

  “I’m down to half a tank,” Gonzalez calls.

  “Keep doing what you’re doing. McCafferty, be prepared to switch positions with Gonzalez.”

  Of course, that’s cause for alarm. We still have a long way to go, if we even manage to make the cavern exit. But there’s nothing to be done about it. We just have to survive this cavern crossing.

  At long last, Denton calls that they’ve reached the stone ledges stepping up to the large one overhead. The narrow fissure is close. Each step upward is about chest-high. Henderson and Denton leap onto the first stone, covering Greg and McCafferty as they scale the step. Our dash across the cavern has now slowed dramatically, but we only have a 180-degree arc to cover rather than an entire perimeter.

  Henderson and Denton climb the next one, Greg and McCafferty covering Gonzalez and me as we hoist ourselves up. Lycans sail upward to near impossible heights, landing on the stones above us. Henderson and Denton send gouts of flame upward, Denton’s giving one last burst before flaming out. Dropping his tanks, he begins adding gunfire to those landing above. Blinded by the flames enveloping them, wolves drop off the edge, falling and bouncing down to the cavern floor.

  Hoisting myself to the next stone step up, I rise to give Greg and McCafferty cover for their next ascent. Henderson and Denton are doing their best to keep the upper shelves of stone clear, one covering the other as they continue their climb up the rock wall. We divide into two teams, Greg, Henderson, and Denton covering the way up while the rest of us cover the downside.

  The number of wolves leaping to land on the ledges ahead and behind increases until the steps are filled with roars as tongues of fire leap outward, the sound of gunfire mixing with growls and yelps of pain. Replacing a mag from my ever-decreasing stock, I glance to the cavern floor below. The Alpha pads into my vision, the monstrous shape gazing intently at us as we fight our way to the top. Without pause, the large Lycan suddenly leaps impossibly high in a blur of motion. The dark gray shape streaks through the air and lands on the main ledge above. There it turns to face us, mouth open. Saliva drips from its giant canines, its fur glowing from the fires we’re producing. Its orange-yellow eyes stare balefully down on us, reflecting the flames.

  Its mouth then peels back in a snarl as it hunches down, the deep growl rising above all other sounds echoing in the vast chamber. Flames and gunfire reach upward, bullets impacting its nine-hundred-pound frame. With a snarl, the creature turns away just before the flames reach it, the fire flowing over the now empty space.

  With Gonzalez and McCafferty directing their fire to the Lycans continuing to force themselves onto the lower ledges, I pull out two phosphorous grenades, cooking them for a couple of seconds.

  “Everyone down,” I yell, tossing both of them to the upper ledge.

  Two blasts come one right after the other, the cavern walls lighting from the explosions. Hot metal shoots out over the ledge, trailing white smoke.

  “Move now,” I shout.

  I suppose this is the wrong moment to think we should have packed flash-bangs, but it is what it is. We dash up the final steps, hoisting our way to the main ledge. The Alpha stands at the far end, its legs straight as it shakes its monstrous head. Smoke rises from its fur in several places.

  “Go, go, go!”

  It’s now a race between us getting to the fissure lying nearby, the crack seeming impossibly narrow, and the Alpha recovering. Henderson reaches the passage first, removing and tossing his flamethrower into the crevice. The tanks clink inside and he disappears. Denton is next, wedging himself through the narrow entrance, followed by Greg.

  “I’m out,” Gonzalez calls, while she and I still do our best to keep the following Lycans at bay.

  Releasing the straps, the tanks fall to the ground with a heavy metallic clunk as McCafferty tosses them into the fracture and vanishes. The Alpha comes to with another shake of its head, its eyes immediately locking onto Gonzalez and me.

  “Go!” I yell as the Lycan bunches its muscles, readying a leap.

  Gonzalez hesitates.

  “I’ll be fine. Now go, dammit!” I shout, shoving her toward the opening.

  The Alpha leaps into the air, coming straight at me as Gonzalez begins to wedge herself through the narrow gap. The monstrous mouth is gaping, opened wide and aimed directly at me, the powerful jaws ready to clamp down on and crush my neck. I dive under the leaping blur, hitting the ground hard as the creature sails barely over me, its rear paws scraping against my back. Rising swiftly, thankful for the drink the Strigoi gave us, I dart for the crevice. The Lycan, also recovering quickly, turns and leaps for the same point.

  I reach it first, turning sideways to squeeze inside. I have no idea how Greg managed it both times, but the gap has to be wider than my mind imagines it. I sidle inside just as the massive Lycan slams into it. I sidestep deeper in, away from the massive jaws gnashing just inches away as it tries to force itself in after me. The growls and clacking teeth fill the entirety of my world, hot breath flowing across my face and the slavering jaws filling my vision.

  As I push inward, the Lycan pulls its enormous mouth away and slams it into the crevice again, trying to reach through the scant remaining inches. With a little room, I manage to raise my handgun and send rounds right down its throat. The face pulls back, now glaring. And for the third time now, we stare at each other across an infinitely short space. Pulling the trigger again causes more rounds to impact. With a snarl that sounds like a promise, the creature darts away, the opening now clear.

  The clank of metal on stone comes from ahead as those with flamethrowers shove them forward and step behind. I’m thankful we didn’t become more bunched up, forcing me to wait near the entrance. Those teeth tearing through my shoulder and arm wouldn’t have been overly pleasant. Not to mention the virus they carry. Nope, that wouldn’t have been cool at all. I stumble into the wider section to find Greg covering the exit, flamethrower tanks lying beside him.

  “Any coming through?”

  I shake my head. “I think we’re clear for now.”

  Greg continues to watch the narrow fissure, the wand end of the flamethrower now poking inside, ready to fill the cave with fire should the Lycans attempt to gain entry. The gap is so narrow that only one can come through at a time, so we’ve reached a place of relative safety. However, we can’t rest for long. There’s still a long way to go back to the original entrance, and the Lycans may be able to cover the distance quicker than we can.

  “Now, that was some shit,” Denton states.

  “Yeah, that got a little sporty. Everyone all right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, good here,” McCafferty replies, the others responding with similar answers.

  “How’s our ammo, fuel supply?”

  “About an eighth of a tank here,” Greg says.

  “Yeah, about the same,” Henderson responds.

  McCafferty merely nods, indicating that hers is nearly empty as well. We have enough for a short duration, but if any engagement turns into something longer, well, we’ll just have to hope it doesn’t. I’m down to a few mags, Denton also having used several. The others are at near capacity.

  “Nicely done, everyone. We can catch our breath here, take a drink, but then we need to get going and move quickly. McCafferty and Henderson in the lead with the tanks. Greg, you bring up the rear with me.”

  Canteens are opened and water poured down parched throats. We add another stay awake pill as the last encounter and lack of sleep has left us tired, the adrenaline fading. Ready to move again, I gather a couple of grenades from each.

  “Okay, let’s move out. Greg and I will catch up,” I say, dividing the grenades between the two of us.

  The others head out at a steady jog, fading from view. Greg and I kneel to the side of the fissure, the grenades at our feet. Taping the handles, we pull the pins. We want the grenades to go off as close together as possible. With a nod, we pull the tape off each one and toss them into the narrow gap, the clink of th
e canisters echoing on the stone as they bounce off walls and floor. With the last ones thrown in quick succession, we fold back against the wall.

  We both have a silent countdown going, and when it reaches zero, as the first grenades detonate we both scream to lessen the effect of the concussive blasts on our ears. The explosions go off one after another in a rolling barrage of sound. Dust, smoke, and chips of stone rocket out from the narrow gap, each blast sending more out of the opening. The walls and floor shake, shrapnel shooting out of the gap to ping and spark off the stone walls.

  When the last one goes off, dust and smoke filter out of the crevice. When it settles somewhat, I’m able to see that some of the wall and ceiling has fallen, mostly blocking the passageway, the concussions having done their job. The Lycans may be able to dig their way through, but it will take some time to move the larger rocks, especially since only one at time can fit into the narrow corridor. The other relief is that there’s no way the Alpha will be able to fit through the gap, even if it wasn’t blocked. With our backside covered for the moment, Greg and I rise to catch up with the others.

  * * * * * *

  The trip back toward the entrance takes less time than our first journey through the cave system. We stop for several rests before resuming, keeping to a slow, steady jog. The rocky floor makes it tricky with the footing, but we make better time due to the fact that we don’t have to creep silently and stop frequently to listen. We do halt at intervals to make sure we don’t hear the padding of Lycans loping toward us from any direction, especially when we draw closer to what we believe is the entrance.

  The choice to slow our pace as we near is a difficult one. On one hand, speed is paramount if we’re to beat the Lycans to the entrance, but on the other, we don’t want to run headlong into the pack lying in wait. Slowly, we creep up the rocky slope, listening. The entrance comes into view, the sky beyond a shade lighter than within the cave. It’s still night, but the phosphorescent full moon has set.

  “Lynn, Raven flight, do you copy?”

  “Oh thank goodness,” Lynn responds almost instantly. “What’s your position?”

  “We’re inside, thirty yards from the original entrance. Any chance we can get a ride out of here anytime soon?”

  “Raven here. We’re one minute out.”

  “Roger that. We’ll extract via ropes near the entrance,” I radio.

  “Copy that. Be there shortly.”

  “The area looks clear so far,” Lynn reports.

  We creep into the cavern just inside the exit, searching the wings on either side. We’re so close to getting out of here, each of us worried something will happen before we’re extracted. That’s too often the case, pushing recklessly for the end and negating the actions that allowed us to get there in the first place.

  The thumping sound of rotors intrudes, and over that come faint howls from somewhere in the night.

  Come on, I think, urging Raven to hurry.

  Lines drop a little ways outside of the entrance. We dash out in a tight perimeter, covering all angles. Henderson, McCafferty, and Greg drop their tanks and clip in with the rest of us.

  “We’re on,” I radio.

  With a change in pitch, we’re hoisted aloft two at a time. Lifting off from the ledge awash in the smell of unburnt jet fuel, I hear more faint howls coming from the ridgeline over the sound of the Blackhawk. It appears we made it with only minutes to spare.

  Dangling below the helicopter as we rise and move off from the cave, we see that the sky to the east is light, portending a new day. As we fly over densely forested valleys, the sun pokes above the horizon, bathing the six of us in sunlight. We made it through yet another encounter, but in the back of my mind is the knowledge that we’re still not done. Hopefully, the next time we meet the Lycans it will result in a different outcome. We have the verification we needed regarding the villagers and we’ll take them out in human form. I just don’t see another way of ending this. However, for now we’re safe, and I feel exhaustion replace the tension, nearly falling asleep at the end of the rope.

  Chapter Eleven

  After returning to base, we sleep away nearly the entire day. With almost two weeks left until the new moon, we aren’t in a rush to do much in the way of the Lycans. Lynn will keep tabs on the tracking device I was able to plant, but for the most part, we will have to yet again play the waiting game.

  The plan will be for us to return to the village once the new moon hits, watching for sign of the villagers’ return. Lynn coordinates for the delivery of another MOAB, along with another set of tanks filled with napalm. Once we verify that the villagers are in place, we’ll annihilate the place, sweeping in afterward to clean up any who live through the conflagration. It’s a horrible thing to think about, erasing people like that, and I have to keep reminding myself that they’re not just people trying to eke out a living in the wild.

  Now, there’s a chance that they’ll just abandon the village and not return, especially in light of our recent encounter. It’s the you know that we know kind of thing. That will put us back to square one, but with a little advantage. If they don’t return, they’ll have to conduct a forced migration that will hopefully be easier to track with our airborne capabilities. And, we also have a place to start our search: the location in the caves where they transformed.

  In the interim, Lynn has an interesting bit of information to share. Apparently, after exhaustive research, she found a Cletus Bartels in a snippet from an old article. Now, whether the man mentioned in the piece and the man who spoke to us in the village are one and the same is anyone’s guess, especially seeing the story is dated in the 1800s. But, there’s mention of a Cletus Bartels who was leading a group out of the east into frontier lands, bound for the Oregon Territory. In an old cavalry report, there’s mention of coming across a wagon train with the ravaged remains of pioneers lying nearby. The report attributes the deaths to Shoshone raiding parties and goes on to say that it’s likely that captives were taken, given that the bodies found were too few for the wagons found.

  Along with the report is a barely readable ledger or journal entry. Only a couple of lines are legible.

  “They came at night, injuring many of those riding with us. The wounded sickened and were worse come morning, but we decided to push as far away as we could during the day. Tonight, we’ll hold a tight perimeter, hoping the creatures don’t return. Mary is tending the sick, their condition worsening but she has hope they’ll pull through. Cletus Bartels has fevered, his moans…”

  The rest, both before and after, is just a series of blurred lines. Now, the attack described could mean a native raiding party. The attitude prevalent at the time could have led the author to call the people creatures. It’s interesting nonetheless. If it’s the same Cletus, then the Lycans do indeed lead long lives, as the man we met looked to be about my age.

  In the interim, Lynn and I take a couple of days for ourselves, getting to know each other better. I do everything I can to bring that warming smile to her face, enjoying the way it melts my heart.

  * * * * * *

  Treetops skim just beneath the open door as the Blackhawk powers through the valley, the chill air streaming inside. The eastern sky beyond the ridge lines is but a dim shade of blue, the morning sun yet to rise in its full glory. It’s the day after the new moon and we’re banking hard to follow the contours of the land. I’m looking down at a river flowing darkly between trees crowding the sides, the same river that flows out of the gorge at the end of the targeted valley.

  It’s been nearly two weeks since our escape from the caves, and we’re heading back to the village. Our plan is to arrive at the hamlet after the villagers have returned from their reverse transformation. Instead of confronting them directly, our job will be to validate that they’re in the village, backtrack to a safe distance, and let the Spooky go to work with the MOAB currently onboard. That will create open space and the guns will finish off any survivors, with us moving in after
ward to mop up as necessary. The blast alone should do the trick, but given that normal people are hard enough to kill, if the villagers carry even a small portion of the resilience of their Lycan counterparts, then there will something for us to do.

  A short time later, the Blackhawk rears back, slowing our forward progress, and settles to the rock shelf leading through the gorge. We hop down, check in with Lynn circling overhead, and head off down the canyon with the sounds of the helicopter fading behind. We’re wary of catching the villagers on the move, but Lynn assures us that we’re the only ones within the chasm. With only the rush of water echoing off the tall canyon walls to keep us company, we push on.

  In the valley, we slow to a creep, watching and listening as with our last journey here. We find the path the villagers took leading out, but no sign of their return. That could either mean they never returned, abandoning it after turning back into their human forms, or they’ve opted for another route in. Lack of evidence doesn’t equate to evidence of lack. That was one of my instructors’ favorite quotes, and one I’ve tucked into my bag of tricks.

  The sun has risen by the time we settle into a position near our old one with a good line of sight leading into the village. Focusing my binoculars down the length of the hamlet, I find no sign of movement or people. The carts with belongings still sit on the wooden sidewalks just as we last saw them, appearing untouched, the tracker still transmitting from the same location.