by Mark Tufo
“We believe that to be so. Why?”
“I need to kill him.”
“That has been established, but he’s far from vulnerable. There are at least two hundred people around him used as his human shields, and perhaps half again that number of Lycan. You have proven over and over your effectiveness as a skilled warrior, but even you cannot overcome those odds.”
“The people are out of the fight until the full moon.” I had a faraway look in my eyes. “Hundred Lycan, though, that is still something to contend with.” I snapped out of it, this was not something I could do alone. “Will your people attack?”
“I…I don’t know. They are losing their stomach for it.”
“This wouldn’t be Samir’s teachings would it? To go meekly into the night with your tail firmly entrenched in your asshole?”
“There is nothing in his sacred words that speak of an ‘asshole.’ His teachings revolve around the preservation of life, and that one lead as pure an existence as possible.”
“A pure existence? Do you have any ideas what kind of food they served?” I put my hand up to my forehead and rubbed the palm against my eyes and down the bridge of my nose. “How did a McDonald’s fast food worker become a deity? Did he use a McRib to create his soul mate? That shit would be funny if you knew what the hell I’m talking about.” Amy looked mighty confused. “Can you imagine what she would have looked like? I mean, I’m not even sure that was real meat. In any case, it didn’t even have a bone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sorry, I digress when I’m nervous. I get that war isn’t your tribe’s normal way of going about their day, but it isn’t the Lycan’s either. In some weird twisted way they are also about being in sync with nature. What Xavier is forcing on them, forcing on everyone really, is unnatural. He is tipping the scales, in nobody’s best interests, not even his own. He’s killing people at an unsustainable rate. I can’t seriously imagine he’s planning to build huge ranches where he periodically slaughters people for consumption. I just can’t see that happening. Xavier is fucked in the head.” I was tapping my temple so hard I was damn near giving myself a headache; didn’t make me stop though. Nope, that would have been entirely too sane a thing to do. “One death, just one well-placed assassination could stop all of this. Any chance of a strategic nuclear strike?” I was looking skyward. “Errant lightning ball? Old space junk finally losing orbit?”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Apparently no one, at the moment,” I said sourly.
Just then a guard poked his head in. “I have news,” he told her—but he was looking at me.
“It’s okay, please continue,” Amy told him.
He was still staring at me, scowling. Trying to kill me with that look, I think.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’ll pretend not to listen.”
He spoke to Amy but he just kept glaring at me.
“Keep that up,” I told him, “and we’re going to need to get a room.” He didn’t understand the reference so I rubbed the side of my face, exposing him to my middle finger. I so loved telling people to “fuck off” without them knowing it. Although now that I was thinking about it, it was kind of like a tree falling in the woods with nobody to hear it. Well, they’d figure it out eventually and I can take credit for giving them another useful historical icon.
“The dead ones are on the move.”
Well that was interesting. He got even more pissed off when I asked a question. “Where to?”
He wouldn’t say until Inuktuk asked the very same thing.
“They head towards Talboton.”
“Finally a piece of good news. Maybe we’ll luck out and they’ll eat Xavier.”
“Do you wish me to remove him, Inuktuk?” The guard asked, practically drooling over the thought.
“He’s fine here.” She looked slightly exasperated; I think partly because she had to keep explaining her decisions. I was getting the impression that even her guards had some doubts regarding their leader. And now, here she was seeking counsel with someone that was already on the Landian shit-list.
“There’s more.”
“For Samir’s sake, Partrib! He’s fine. Out with it.”
“A runner has come in from a distant patrol. They have come across an infected and a dog.”
“Mathieu and Oggie? Are they alright?” I asked.
“They will be here within the hour.”
I sighed. “I’d kiss you right on the mouth if you weren’t such an ass, Partrib. Screw it, I’m going to do it anyway.” I moved in and pursed my lips, he looked petrified I was going to make good on my word. He pulled back and put his hands up to thwart my advances.
WAITING THAT HOUR proved difficult. Okay, more correctly, waiting that hour patiently, proved difficult. I was tempted to head back the way I’d come and meet them somewhere down the path but being further from Amy’s tent didn’t seem the wisest choice. I stayed always within eyeshot of it. When they finally showed up, they looked exhausted, but well. Mathieu was walking next to a large horse, and there was Oggie, draped over the beast like a blanket. His tail was wagging when he saw me but he didn’t move to get off his ride.
“You have horses?” I turned to ask Amy who had come out of her tent to join me.
“We have been known to ask for their help from time to time. Your dog must have needed help.”
I walked over to them; Oggie’s paws were indeed inflamed, red and raw. There was some dried blood on his back left one. Looked like he’d stepped on a sharp rock or something.
“Oh, my poor puppy,” I said as I nuzzled his head. He licked my face. In that little space in that little slice of time, all was right with the world.
“I am indeed also well,” Mathieu said a little indignantly.
“Did you hit your head at all?” I asked.
He looked puzzled but shook his head.
“Good, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget how to brew beer.”
“Is that all that our friendship is predicated on?” he asked.
“Of course. What else should it be built upon?” I smiled and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Good to see you, friend. That was a pretty stupid thing we did.”
“Did it work?”
“It did and it didn’t,” I explained to him all that Amy had told me.
“What now?” He’d sat down as I helped Oggie off the horse.
Amy directed some of her people to tend to their various injuries, all of them thankfully minor.
“We declare war,” I told him.
“And what have we been doing?”
“Well, I mean we get the Landians to declare war and we join with them.”
“And how do they feel about that?” Mathieu was looking up at Amy.
“I fear I have pushed my people as far as I can in regards to that.”
“I’ve never seen so many people so willing to shove their fucking heads in the sand. This was once the United States of America, the most feared and revered country on the planet. Nobody, and I mean nobody fucked with us. If a terrorist attack killed a few hundred citizens we would wipe out whole countries in retaliation. Now, someone can slaughter our mothers, brothers, fathers, friends…and we just turn the other cheek. And not because we’re pious or some shit but because we’re fucking scared. Poor little bitches. Would rather live another fucking day scared and trembling rather than die today, strong, brave, and free. Fuck! I hate chicken-shit motherfuckers!” I was raging. “You know what, Amy? Take all your little Landian babies and just get the hell out of here. I’ll take care of all your problems and then someday when your grandkids ask what you guys did to stop the war you can tell them this: ‘Well you see little Susie, we left. We went as far away from the bad guys as we could and just let others fight our battles for us because that’s what cowards do!’”
“I will stand with you.” It was Partrib, the guard that looked like he had wanted to shove his spear through my sternum.
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“Really? You? I was thinking we’d really gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“I am no coward. My friend Cylark who died in that attack was not a coward either. I will not honor his memory by running. I have never stuck my head in sand; I will not do so now.”
“That last part was really more of an analogy, I’m not sure if anyone has ever stuck their head in sand willingly.” He was not deterred by the confusion or explanation.
“You are an Old One; your wisdom is vast.”
Mathieu snorted.
“Shh, he’s on to something,” I said as an aside.
“If you say we must fight so that we can hold on to our freedom and avenge those of us that have gone before, then again, I say I will stand with you.”
“He didn’t say anything about avenging,” Mathieu said.
“Why are you interrupting the man? He knows wisdom when he sees it.”
“Smells it is more likely,” Mathieu said, and Oggie barked as if laughing.
“No more deer meat for you,” I told Oggie sharply.
He growled at me.
“Yeah, we both know I’m kidding.”
“I will tell the other guards,” Partrib said.
“Listen, I cannot thank you enough for your vote of confidence and that of the others, but we are going to need more,” I told him as much as I told Amy.
“Thank you, Partrib.” Amy put her hand on his shoulder. “We are good people, Michael, we are doing something here we are unaccustomed to. I will assemble a council and I will put forth the measures I feel we need to effectively deal with this present situation.”
“And if they don’t agree?”
“They will. Nobody understands who we are more than I do.”
I DID VIRTUALLY nothing for the next five hours. Mathieu and Oggie were off sleeping and Amy had her hands full with whatever was going on in her tent. I could hear heated arguments from where I was, nearly a hundred feet away. The desire to pick up a non-existent phone and let Azile know what was going on was nearly crippling. Living in the day and age that I had, it was mind numbing to think that there was no such thing as instant communication anymore. I’d hated my cell phone when I had it, now I’d surgically implant the thing to the side of my head if I could. Shit, I’d even carry around a landline, find a bunch of guides to help with the huge spool of cord. I wandered as far as I dared, hoping that maybe the mystery shaman that had presented himself to me the last time I was here would do so again. Nothing on that front either; seemed the spirit world was quiet. I went back to sit by our tent.
Oggie gingerly made his way out of the tent he was staying in. He had dressings on two of his paws and was careful not to get either wet as he relieved himself. When he saw me he made his way over then plopped his head in my lap. I was happy for the distraction. They say idle hands are the devil’s workshop; I’ve proven that I already have a whole factory up and running. Not sure if Oggie had sensed I was about to get up to some no-good, but his company was welcome and most likely spared me from my second death sentence by the Landian judicial system. He was asleep before I could even scratch behind his other ear, and the big lug knew I wouldn’t move him to get up. I sat trapped by my dog as effectively as if I were in a cell. After a while the weight of Oggie’s head began to cut off the circulation to my legs. I had no choice but to finally move his head; by then the Landians had come out of their meeting.
“Mission accomplished, dog, mission accomplished,” I told him as I petted his body.
Mathieu was stretching and yawning outside the tent.
“You guys have the itinerary or something?”
“What?” Mathieu reached down and, without thinking, gave his privates a good once over.
“Well, that’s something I can’t un-see.”
“What?” he asked again in the midst of another large stretch.
“Forget it. They’re out.” Amy was motioning for me to come over, Mathieu joined me. “Could you maybe not scratch your nuts when we go and talk to the leader we hope to make our ally in this war?”
“Sorry.” He said the words, but I wasn’t feeling the sincerity.
“We are prepared to fight,” Amy said once we got inside her tent. I had sat down, but now I stood. No one else moved.
“I didn’t mean right this very moment, Michael,” she clarified.
“When? The full moon is like four days away at the most.”
“Two,” Mathieu said, and if there was anyone’s word I took on that matter, it was his.
“We will not be prepared until after the full moon.” Amy looked intently at me as she said those words.
Inaction was arguably my weakest point. In a rare moment of reflection, I realized that it mattered very little if we attacked today or a week from now. We could do nothing about the armies that had already been dispatched, and the army within Talboton wasn’t going anywhere or attacking anybody—at least that we knew of. To strike them at their strongest made absolutely no sense. If we could get our shit together in time, the best opportunity to hit would be the morning after the full moon. The people that had been werewolves would be exhausted and maybe their keepers would be as well. Babysitting always tended to be physically draining, especially if the kids were unruly.
“How long after the full moon?” She wasn’t being very forthcoming with her information. There was more going on here.
“We are waiting on the Red Witch.”
“What? How could she possibly…the fucking pigeons. Why do I keep forgetting about the damn pigeons?”
“She wishes to remain with Denarth until she is absolutely certain that the danger has passed for this cycle.”
“Fuck Denarth,” I spat. Fence sitting, ass dragging, fair weather friends. “Wait. How long have you been in contact with her?”
“We received news to keep a look out for you.”
“Not one video camera in existence and still I’m tracked as effectively as if I were a rat running through a maze under a spy satellite. Were you planning on telling me about this anytime soon?”
“No. Azile was concerned if I said anything you would continue your self-destructive quest.”
“I told her I was going home. Why would she have sent pigeons here?” I was asking Mathieu.
“I’m afraid it was because of me,” he replied. “Do not look at me that way. I did not betray you by any deed I was aware of. My not coming back would have been indicative that you were not heading home.”
“How does she know I didn’t knock you unconscious and tie you to a tree so you’d leave me the hell alone?”
“Would you have risked the life of the only lager maker possibly still alive in such a manner?”
“Fuck. I hate being predictable.”
“If you wish to run around the camp with your hands flailing above your head, I will not say anything in derision when you get back,” he said.
“Nothing about that says ‘unpredictable.’ All that says is ‘insane.’”
“I would believe they are one and the same for you.”
“Is it my lot in life to attract smart asses?”
Mathieu could only smile. I’d asked him this question once before. He’d gotten offended at the time because he hadn’t understood what the expression meant. Once I explained he seemed alright with me calling him one; although for the life of him he could not figure out how something like this expression had ever come into being. More than once he’d asked if in my time people thought that asses had intelligence. I still don’t know if he was being serious or just more of a smart ass, thus continuing the cycle.
Once we’d decided on a course of action, I decided to turn in. I’d done absolutely nothing that day and still I found myself exhausted. Had to be the after-effects of the marathon, but also, as an old soldier, I knew that with an upcoming battle sometimes sleep was difficult, if not impossible to come by. It was better to horde it when you got the chance. I felt worlds better that next day; Mathieu and Oggie seemed to be doin
g much better as well.
“You up for a little recon?”
Mathieu looked at me suspiciously. “It is the day of the full moon. What do you have in mind?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I do not have a death wish.”
“I was not thinking that previously. Now I may be.”
“I would just like to take a look at Talboton, see if the zombies are gone and maybe catch a glimpse of Xavier. I could hit that big furry bastard from five hundred yards out and this could all be over.”
“Are you able to tell one Lycan from another?”
“Of course, I’m not a species-ist.”
“Another word of your making?”
“I’ve told you before, Mathieu, I did not come up with smart ass.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m sick of these people staring at me. We’ll stay as far away as possible; I’d just like to get a glimpse.”
“I do not trust the words that issue forth from your mouth, but I, too, would like to look. Perhaps you may just be fortuitous enough to give Xavier exactly what he deserves.”
“There’s my pint-serving friend.” I clapped him on the shoulder and went to grab my things. Oggie was finishing off what looked like a particularly fat squirrel. “I really liked it when all my dogs ate were little nondescript food pellets and cheese.”
Oggie looked up; he had a large blood mustache.
“You want to stay here or come with?” I used to think that my English Bulldog, Henry, knew what I was saying—at least to some degree. He just picked and chose the parts he wanted to hear, like “ball,” and “bacon”. Oggie though, if I could speak bark, we could have meaningful, two-way conversations. His tail wagged when I asked the question and he finished up his meal a little quicker than I think he wanted to.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I was almost dancing around as I waited for Mathieu to get something to eat. I swear he was taking his damn time, biting tiny little nibbles and rolling every friggen’ ort around inside his mouth like he was a world-class taste tester.
“Come on man, it’s berries. How good can it be?”
“I’ve gone out with you before, Michael Talbot. This very well could be my last meal; I would like to savor it.”
