Lycan Fallout 3

by Mark Tufo

  “I do not wish to upset you, but I have caught up to you in under an hour of running. If I can, so can they. The only chance we may have of escape involves Michael’s plan.”

  “That’s a good one, Mathieu. Did he actually explain his plan to you or was there a lot of smoke and mirrors around when he started talking?”

  “I…I do not understand the reference. But no, he did not directly lay out what he intended to do. He was going to perform reconnaissance, then we would work something out together.”

  “Do you honestly believe that?”

  “Sort of. I am having progressively more doubts though, since you asked that question.”

  “Come. Perhaps he cannot be prevented from doing the things he does, but I can get you back as fast as possible to aid him.”

  Azile gave Mathieu a pack that had been stuffed full of food and some basic medical supplies along with two knives.

  “You knew?” Mathieu asked as he took possession of the bag and strapped it onto his back.

  “He has a hero complex that I do not think can be sated. Either that or a death wish that he also cannot fulfill, and I choose to support the former. Save him from himself if you can. I will urge the people on.” She tenderly reached over and stroked his arm.

  “I will do my best.”

  Chapter 19

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 12

  I’D BARELY MADE it to the far peripheries of the werewolf line as the flash fire sizzled to an end. It had burned nearly thirty of them to a crisp and more than half that number again had been severely wounded. The ones left unscathed looked around wildly, confusion twisting their features. Their frustration at not having a victim to attack spilled over and they would occasionally snarl and snap at one another. I had great seats if this devolved into a civil war. I’d been fairly casual about my hiding spot, that was until I saw a row of Lycan coming. Werewolves on their own were a terrifying image of claw, teeth, and muscle. Lycan took all of that and notched it up a dozen or so pegs. The fear they elicited was peeled back from the depths of early human evolution. I couldn’t imagine anything much scarier than them except perhaps a giant alien spider of some sort. Not sure why I’d even thought of that, but it also stirred something deep and long forgotten within me.

  The Lycan treated the werewolves like you would think a callous overlord would. Those that got in the way were pushed or struck down. The werewolves looked like whipped strays around the Lycan. They cowered, whined, and involuntarily wet themselves. If they could get their shit together they had the numbers to crush the Lycan. Not that that was going to happen, but I’d be even more happy with a full blown revolt than the aforementioned civil strife. The Lycan were stomping around like mad seven-year-olds at a party, hopped up on soda and ice cream. On one end of the spectrum it was somewhat humorous, though I would have chanced a laugh right then about as much as I would have broke out into song and dance.

  “Where are they?!” Xavier demanded. He’d showed up after a few minutes when he realized he hadn’t heard the clash of metal or the screams of victims. He stepped over or on those unfortunate werewolves that had become crispy critters.

  “They have run.” My heart nearly stopped. I instantly knew why the average I.Q. of the Lycan had shot up. Lunos was here, and apparently had the ear of the king. Had Xavier’s brother been playing me the entire time, or was this a relatively new development? Lunos had once told me he would be killed if he returned, yet with the way the other Lycan deferred around him, I had to assume he was in a position of power within their hierarchy.

  “We will chase then!” Xavier shouted. “Get the diseased on the move!” He was shouting at the werewolf handlers.

  “Xavier, we have lost too much time. I do not think it wise to send them out on this dose; we should wait another cycle.”

  “That is the difference between you and I, brother. You wait while I act. Send them out now!”

  “Move, scum!” was one of the nicer epithets shouted at the werewolves to get them on the path. They were clearing out fast, leaving me with a host of Lycan that were busy rooting around what remained of our encampment. They seemed overly interested in the field hospital, where pools of blood had seeped into the ground. All except two; Xavier seemed to be reveling in his victory and Lunos was curious about the rest. He was looking around for something and I had a sneaking suspicion it was me. When he started meandering his way toward me, I thought about bolting. Suddenly the tree I was under, with the low hanging branches scraping against the ground, did not seem the ideal hiding spot it once had. In fact it looked mighty conspicuous, like exactly where a half vamp would hide during a Lycan invasion.

  He paused and was looking directly at me, I was on the verge of saying a prayer in fear. Lunos, I should be able to take one on one. But unless I could kill him and be gone in under ten seconds, that was not how this would go down. This wasn’t going to be like every martial arts film ever where the villains take turns attacking. It had become such a huge joke concerning the genre, yet they continued as if it were a cultural tradition that could not be changed. Hell, I still watched them. If it ain’t broke, I guess…. The random thought had kept me rooted to my spot. Stay where I was, he would discover me, come out and fight, I was discovered. Turn and run, yup, you guessed it, discovered. Three choices and all with the same outcome. Hardly seemed like a choice at all.

  I’d gone from a squat to more of a runner’s ready position. Still no clue what I was going to do, but I was going to do it fast. I, at least, had that base covered. Lunos stopped and was peering at my exact location. He may have smiled, but he said or did nothing before walking away.

  “What in the fuck was that all about?” I barely verbalized. It was a couple of minutes later when the Lycan cleared out, leisurely following the vanguard. I have questions, that’s for sure, I thought as I stepped out from underneath the boughs. At least, I’d seen my intended targets. Ten bedraggled humans had been laden like pack mules with bags, at least, one of them had to be carrying the offending flower. Now the question was, how was I going to destroy the right one? I wasn’t necessarily distraught about killing all ten people, there was just no way I could carry all the bags. The consequences of my last statement should have weighed more heavily on me, but as far as I was concerned, they were combatants, whether they wanted to be or not. They always had the choice to not agree to carry the bags. Sure, it meant swift death to defy Xavier, but that was the same luxury I was going to afford them for their inaction to rebel. Were those poor bastards stuck in a shitty position? Oh yeah, without a doubt. But there was little I could do about it. I would sacrifice them all if it meant I had even a slight chance of keeping those I cared for safe. I waited a few minutes to make sure there were no stragglers and then I followed suit.

  Chapter 20

  AZILE

  “BAILEY, WE NEED to pick up the pace.” Azile had come to tell Bailey that the rest they were on was over.

  “These people are dead on their feet.”

  “Better than dead on their backs. Get them up.”

  “We can only go so fast with the wounded, Azile. You know that we move any faster and we will lose some of them.”

  “Bailey, this is the course of action we all decided on. It offers the best chance of survival. If you wish to make a last stand and defend, let me know and I will make preparations. We knew this pace might have an adverse reaction on some of the wounded. What would you have me do?”

  There were moans of protest as Bailey got everyone on the move. They’d not been back on the road for more than a half an hour when they began to hear the distant sound of thunder.

  “Get the wounded farther up the road! Bailey, Lana, we need to hold them here!” Azile said when she realized the storm coming was not of the weather variety.

  Forty-four stood against the onslaught that was coming. None said anything as they took their positions. Bailey looked to a small rut in the road that was filled with water. A thin film of undisturbed brown polle
n sat atop the shimmering puddle. She watched as minute earthquakes began to disrupt the water, sending shivers through the liquid that quickly became ripples. Her sense of anxiety grew with each movement of that surface. She broke the spell by splashing the puddle with her foot.

  A ravenous pack of werewolves crested a hill in the distance, they were spurred on by the sight of humans in the distance. All was drowned out except for the howl of the approaching horde. More than a few of the defenders thought about running away, though none did. To do so would condemn the person they stood next to.

  “Stand! Stand!” Azile commanded as if she could read the flight thoughts of those around her. The lead werewolf crashed into the first defender, ripping his arm off as he slashed out a great paw. Like bowling pins, three went down in the resultant crash. It was clear to all involved this would all be over soon. Swords slashed, spears were thrust, arrows let loose and still werewolves broke through. Five of Bailey’s men were down in the first minute. The Denarthians had suffered similar casualties. The puddle Bailey had stepped in now overflowed with blood, both defender and attacker.

  The remaining few yielded ground in great clumps as they fought for position, all seemed lost as they were whittled down. Lana swung her sword in desperation as three werewolves forced her back into a large bush. She had hoped to only thwart their latest push, she’d not been expecting the blade to sink so deeply into flesh. As she yanked free, a young woman fell to the ground, a grievous injury to her side. Werewolves all around were turning back to their former selves as the flower’s potency waned. The survivors were momentarily shocked as they stared into the eyes of the confused people around them. It was Bailey who rallied.

  “Destroy them all!” It was a lot like stepping on kittens, killing those people. They cried out in misery and shock when the first blows rained down on them. Bailey had never had a reason to use the term “necessary evil”, but that exactly summed up what she was feeling as she massacred the people all around her. Each kill seemed to take a little bit more of her soul away on a stiff breeze; she wondered if perhaps this was how Mike felt. Dozens of the dead spread to fifty as the defenders chased the terrified people back from whence they’d come. It was Azile who had finally called off the murderous dash when she realized they’d be getting close to the Lycan army and maybe that opponent wasn’t much into direct conflict but even they could be persuaded to fight with odds so greatly in their favor.

  Lana turned back first and said a small prayer over each of her fallen countrymen. Tears were freely falling from her eyes. Bailey checked the pulses of those on the ground; when she was sure none of them were alive she walked quickly away from the scene, for fear that she would break down.

  “We will not be able to stop them the next time,” Bailey said curtly to Azile when the Witch caught up to her.

  “No, we will not,” Azile answered, a resignation and exhaustion in her voice that Bailey had not ever noticed before.

  “Maybe we should send the injured into the woods,” Bailey offered up as a solution.

  “I am not so sure they’d have a much better chance of survival in there than they do on this road.” Azile pointed into the dense forest.

  “What of Michael?” Bailey asked.

  “If he does not or cannot strike fast, our outcome is the same.”

  “I did not think that my end would be wrapped up in so much hopelessness.”

  “Most are.”

  “Do we stop then?” Bailey asked.

  “Give up, you mean?” Lana asked.

  “No. If I’ve ever learned one thing from Michael it is that until it is over, it isn’t. Does that make sense?” Azile asked. “It doesn’t look good, but we’re still alive and until we aren’t, we keep trying to stay that way.”

  “Hard to argue with that,” Bailey said, “but I would really like to get off my feet for a while.”

  Nobody could bring themselves to say that might be happening soon whether she wanted it to or not.

  Chapter 21

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 13

  “HOW FAR AHEAD of us are they?” Xavier asked of one of the werewolf handlers.

  “Two miles…not much more than that.”

  I’d gotten a lot closer than I’d meant to. I was jogging along, kind of minding my own business when I realized I had actually run inside the boundaries of their makeshift camp. The brown mounds I’d mistakenly thought were rocks or giant elephant turds ended up being sleeping Lycan. They were catching a little break from all their mayhem. From the sound of the heavy breathing I could only assume that having others do your dirty work was exhausting. I skidded to an immediate halt and jumped behind a pine tree that would have a hard time obscuring a child. I had no idea how deep in I was or how many of the creatures were behind me. The best that I could do was get low and cover myself with leaves, twigs and whatever other debris I could scrape over me. By the time I was done it wasn’t perfect but most of me was hidden and the day was finally yielding to night. People began to stream back into the camp; they looked more like the walking dead than most of the zombies I’d encountered.

  Heavy bags under their eyes weighed down their doomed faces, hunched backs and rolled shoulders added to the appearance of people carrying weighty burdens. But their return for regeneration could only mean one thing: Azile and the others still lived. That was the hope I chose to hold on to, though I had no way of knowing exactly who was alright and who was already on their way to their final destination. When I’d been on the other side of the battlefield the supply of human-werewolves had seemed unlimited. But these battles and the ensuing exhaustion of continually changing form was definitely taking its toll. I watched at least half a dozen of the humans fall over and begin convulsions that they would never recover from.

  The Lycan taunted them for their weakness, occasionally kicking one as they went down. There couldn’t have been more than a hundred humans left and each and every one of them appeared to be on his or her last legs. It was still more than needed to do the job they had before them but hopefully these numbers offered a small reprieve to other human settlements in Xavier’s sights.

  “Get these filthy things their next dose and finish the resistance once and for all!” Xavier commanded.

  I’m not going to go to court and place my hand on a Bible and swear to this, but I think Lunos looked over to my tree before he spoke to Xavier. He was starting to give me the creeps.

  “My King, I think it would be better for all involved if the humans were allowed to rest for the evening. They are weak and may not be able to continue if we…you do not allow it.”

  “Lunos, the only reason you are back is because I have changed our laws. I would still be within my right to kill you, as you broke the law previous to that. Though you do have knowledge that is paramount to my rightful ascension as ruler of the world.”

  “You are right, my King, in every aspect. I am also looking out for your ascension and as your counsel I am advising you that the humans that are running are wounded to the point where they can no longer move quickly. Our humans could very well die if they are turned again; if that happens we will have completely lost our army.”

  I expected an outburst from Xavier—how he didn’t give a shit, that if the humans died then he would kill all the remaining combatants himself. But it never came. That was a revelation to me; just how far Lunos had worked himself into Xavier’s mind.

  “Have the scum rest. We will kill the humans when the sun rises so they can better watch their destruction.” Xavier commanded it as if he’d come up with the idea himself. The Lycan overlords made short work of corralling the remaining people. What looked like raw rats were handed out to the starving captives who ate greedily of the rodents, taking as many bites as they could before it was wrested from their hands so another could eat. This continued until there was nothing left.

  I can’t say the rat looked good, but it had been a while since I’d eaten anything and thinking about eating caused a gurgle in my
stomach. I could only hope no one else heard. I’d not been expecting to stay where I was for the long haul. The Lycan weren’t overly cautious about their defenses, obviously nothing out there was willingly going to take on this army. But I was way too close. I had a Lycan sleeping not more than ten feet from me. The humans weren’t much farther. Moving without being spotted was on the low end of the probability scale. Even if the Lycan was out like a light I could not count on the humans not shouting out in alarm if I was discovered. I’d killed as many of them as the Lycan had—maybe more. I was as much a bogeyman as the hairy thing next to me. I’d have to wait it out and hope that none of the Lycan decided to use my tree as an outhouse.

  On a side note, the packs weren’t sitting more than twenty feet from me, if I knew which one it was I would have chanced taking it and scampering away. Maybe I could make it to a river and dump the thing before I was dragged down. “This whole thing sucks donkey dicks,” I muttered. Covered by dirt and trapped by Lycan and werewolf soon-to-bes and for a fleeting second fried rat sounded like something I’d eat. Maybe with a side of coleslaw and some honey mustard sauce it might be palatable? Shit. I needed to focus. I had to figure Mathieu was back in the general vicinity by now; hopefully he was a little smarter than myself and would stay back a reasonable distance. I needed a plan, an actual thought-out plan. One where I figured out one course of action over another, weighing risks versus rewards that also give me the best chance of survival. Those were all great words. Now, if I could just do something with them instead of just “thought service”. Yup, I was full of ideas. The tricky part was moving them out into the real world. Easier dreamed up than performed. Story of my fucking life. A good start would have been to ask Azile what the damned flower looked like. There was a good chance I could open the bag I needed and not even realize what I was looking at. I could wait until morning when they got ready to dose the people, but by then everyone would be awake and I’d not get very far. I looked out at the gathering. Some of the people were huddled around a small campfire that did little to stop their shivering from malnutrition and exposure. I was counting how many steps from the fire to the bags. Would I be able to catch them on fire and would they quickly burn enough to be unsalvageable? I’d moved my foot in preparation to get up when I detected something coming my way through my peripheral vision. I froze. Had so minor an infraction exposed my position? I could not make out exactly who or what was coming my way as I did not want to turn my head to get a better look.