by Mark Tufo
We sat atop the food chain for so long with no viable threat. We had to be our own worst enemy. Oh, occasionally a shark or a grizzly, maybe a tiger or two would take a man down a notch. But it was never a unified front; there had never been a wall of elephants trying to destroy Manhattan. We killed and we ate pretty much anything we wanted. The only thing that could take down man was basically man himself; and yeah, I guess a pesky virus. But again, man created the virus, so still the fault lies there.
Where the hell was I? Oh yeah, this battle. I was happy to have the rifle and the bullets, but I just wasn’t happy that I would be using them against other men, and poorly armed ones at that. Again, it makes no sense, because we had a huge advantage that I suppose just didn’t seem fair. It would be like the Polish Cavalry charging the German Panzer division. But this was war, if given the chance any of those soldiers would kill me; it was my responsibility to myself to end the threat before that happened. I could attempt to justify it all I wanted, but it still felt wrong. This would be something else that would keep me up long into the night as I weighed how this looked in the eyes of the gatekeeper.
I saw Azile from time to time throughout the day. Between her and Bailey, they must have traversed the entire town a few dozen times. I, for the most part, sat on the parapet with my back against the wall, my eyes shut for the majority of the day. Every once in a while, someone would step over my legs to get past, but that was out of the norm.
I was startled out of my trance, couldn’t really call it a nap, when someone kicked my boots. I looked up, but the sun was directly behind her head. The backlit figure would have been hard not to recognize.
“Enjoying yourself?” Bailey asked.
“As much as one can before a war.”
“Move over.” She kicked my foot.
I was going to tell her there was plenty of parapet space for her to sit down on, but she had the advantageous positioning as she stood over me. I took the wiser course for once and did as she asked. Scratch “asked.” I did as she told.
“Always a pleasure.”
“I’m sorry about Oggie,” she said when she finally got down.
“I’ll find him.” And I meant it.
“Looks like we’re going to make it another day without fighting.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Huh?” she asked. “We’re not fighting, dying, or killing. How is that not a good thing?
“It seems to me that this is going to happen, this war I mean, and I hate waiting. If we are to fight, I’d just as soon do it and be done with it instead of wasting time waiting for it.”
“I suppose, in some roundabout fashion, I can understand your point. However, I am of the hope that someone with more sense will take this time to realize just how pointless this battle is and will go home to prepare for the real enemy.”
“Won’t happen. Everyone who fights thinks they’re doing it for the right reasons. Both sides can’t be right or they wouldn’t be fighting at all.”
“You’ve been thinking about that all day? Talk about wasting time.”
“No, actually I’ve been thinking about toasted coconut marshmallows.”
“So, dwelling on some long gone food was a better way to spend your day?”
“Tell me what I should have been thinking about, Bailey. Perhaps my family and friends who I long to see again with all my heart and lost soul? Or maybe I should think about all those poor bastards I have killed or will kill soon. Would that be better? I’d rather think about the silky sweetness of the marshmallow and satisfying texture crunch of the toasted coconut adhering lovingly to the sides.”
“Sounds good.”
“Yeah, it does.”
Bailey didn’t say another word. She sat there for about another ten minutes before getting up and yelling at someone for loafing off. I felt bad for the guy—he was probably using me as his model. I closed my eyes once again; and like trying not to think about a “pink elephant”…I saw all those I had loved flit through my memory. Another added bonus of having vampire blood run through me was my brain function would never fade. I would never be blessed with Alzheimer’s disease; I would always hold tight the images of those I’d known.
I’m sure at some point in your life there was someone who meant everything and more to you. First love maybe. You couldn’t imagine your life without them they evoked such strong feelings within you. Then, for whatever reason, things change. You realize they’re an asshole or maybe you are, and they finally figured it out, doesn’t matter. After a few years, you can barely recall an image of the person that isn’t a vague sort of representation. You remember events, things you did together, places you went perhaps, but a true clear mental image? Not so much.
Not me, though, it was like looking through a fucking photo album in my head. Shit, even that’s wrong, as I could pull up mental movies, in HD. Every moment my brain had ever recorded I could retrieve. Sounds fantastic, doesn’t it? It wasn’t. I could, if I wanted to, shut out this present life and relive my past over and over. I’d be an observer, almost a voyeur as I looked on. Like an alcoholic who worked as a bartender, it took everything I had not to descend down into that realm, because to do so would lead to madness. Ultimately, I have to think this is what happened to Eliza. She lived for close to six hundred years, and she still could never escape the brutalities her father had inflicted upon her.
I did not wish to spare the memory of Eliza more than a cursory glance, for if I did it would invariably lead me down the path to Tommy and that wound was entirely too fresh. I was spared any further retrospection with a shout of alarm.
“Here we go again,” I said as I stood up. “What the fuck is that?” I asked as I turned to look. It was familiar enough but certainly not in this setting.
Chapter Sixteen – Oggie
The trio all turned their heads as they heard a howl nearby.
Are there more of them? Oggie wondered with resignation. He would hurt these two as much as he could, but the conclusion was already foregone. He was a large dog, but even so, each of these Lycan were nearly three times his size.
Padder and Mythros had nearly forgotten about their quarry. Oggie had thought about retreating as quickly and quietly as he could, but he was afraid any movement on his part would break the strange spell the Lycan were under. If more Lycan came, he would deal with it as best as possible. Right now, though, he was alive; and that was all he could hope for. The lone howl was joined by a chorus of others. They were all around the small détente that was happening. Oggie took note that the two Lycan kept exchanging furtive glances between them. If he knew enough about their gestures, he would have said they were nervous.
Noise was coming from behind him and to the front of the Lycan. Oggie moved slightly in order to see this new threat while also keeping an eye on the Lycan. The brush stirred. It was not Lycan nor werewolf that emerged from the brush, but rather three large wolves, their yellow eyes trained on the two Lycan, savage teeth bared.
“You should know better than to hunt on our grounds, forsaken ones.”
“We hunt where we want to now!” Padder shouted, though Oggie thought he seemed unsure of himself.
More wolves emerged from the sides. Oggie did not have an accurate count, but he thought perhaps as many as a dozen wolves now inhabited the small clearing.
“Many years ago, instead of wiping your scourge clean from the planet, we allowed you the arctic wastelands to scratch out an existence. You should have stayed there,” Mane, the first to show himself and alpha male of the wolf pack, said.
“Times change, ground-hugger. Maybe your energy would have been more wisely spent keeping man in check rather than your own cousin,” Padder replied.
“We aligned with man many years ago because of you. Your kind are like wayward pups who know not the basic rules of survival, nor when to stop. You were taught once and will be done so again.”
“Hah!” the Lycan burst out. “By whom? There is
nothing and no one that can stop us now! Xavier has united the Lycan, and we are the new masters of this world! Beg to me, wolf, and perhaps I will allow you to go slinking off into the night with your piss-covered tail buried between your legs.”
Mane growled. Oggie did not see the signal Mane had given, but the wolves moved in unison. The Lycan held their ground at first. When the first snapping of teeth struck Mythros’ thigh, they rethought their strategy. A wolf was sent spiraling away with a backhanded blow but quickly righted himself. By the time the two Lycan were able to break free and run, they had over a dozen blood inducing bites between them.
“Mane, do you wish that we pursue and kill them?”
“No, Cloud, I want those two to bring their story back to Xavier. I want him to know that we have chosen sides, and it is not his.”
“What of this one?” Cloud looked over to Oggie.
“What of him?” Mane asked.
“He’s a dog,” Cloud said distastefully.
Oggie had known he wasn’t out of danger just yet. He’d traded one potential death for another was all.
“This dog was prepared to take on two Lycan by himself,” Mane said with a lilt of amusement.
“He was spent. He did not choose to take on two Lycan so much as he did not want to run any further. Even a squirrel will turn and fight when all other options are taken away.”
Oggie growled and Mane laughed at the insult.
“Perhaps. What of it, dog? Why should I not allow Cloud here to kill one of our bastardized cousins?” Mane turned to ask Oggie.
“It is not even smart enough to speak. I will be doing it a favor,” Cloud said.
“You try and I will rip your throat out,” Oggie growled.
Mane laughed again, but Cloud did not see any amusement whatsoever in their present situation.
“You have bravery,” Mane started. “But we do not suffer dogs very often. I will allow Cloud his wish unless you can give me a reason not to.”
“I know where people are,” Oggie replied.
Cloud scoffed. “We all know where people are, they stink so bad and make so much noise, it would be impossible not to. Look, Mane, it just wishes to be back with its master and have food handed to it. Again, I tell you, I would be doing it a favor by putting it down.”
“People that are fighting Lycan,” Oggie clarified.
“What good does that do us, dog?” Mane asked. “Just because we fight a common enemy does not make us friends. The humans have forgotten the language of the earth. We could never communicate with them to let them know. They would attack us like they would any other aggressor.”
Cloud moved closer, expecting his pack leader to issue the order soon.
“What is going on here?” Jayer asked. She was the alpha female and mate to Mane, and she’d just broken into the clearing.
“We are about to finish what the Lycan were interrupted from doing,” Cloud spoke.
“I do not think killing the dog wise, Mane,” Jayer said softly.
“It is only a dog. What is the harm?” Mane asked his mate.
“It is subtle, but there is another scent you should smell before you make a decision.”
“I smell nothing!” Cloud roared. “He must be destroyed.”
“You forget your place.” Jayer leveled her gaze upon him. He backed down.
“Mane?” Cloud asked.
“You have always been better at detecting scent, Jayer. I am having a hard time getting past the scent of the dog and his most recent kills.”
“It is a haunted scent, old…almost earthy.” Jayer had moved closer to Oggie and was pulling in more trace through her nose.
“I smell man...no, a man, yet it is more than that.”
“Let me kill him and you can breathe in a lungful of whatever it is Jayer detects.”
Mane quickly stepped back. “It is an Old One!”
Cloud looked around wildly as he crouched and bristled simultaneously. A low whine escaped his muzzle.
“How do you come to know an Old One, dog?” Jayer asked, not moving back or forward.
“My name is Purpose, not dog. Before Cloud sheds his fearfulness and wants to say something about the name given to me, it was man-based and not natural or earned, the name was indeed given for a reason by an Old One for my friend, another Old One.”
Cloud snarled at the barb. “Men and dogs are not friends. It is a master and servant relationship and nothing more. He says jump and you do it. Mane, we should kill him now more than ever. What are you waiting for?”
Mane growled at Cloud. “My mate was right for questioning your placement. I will do what is right for the pack.”
“Mane, Old Ones have long memories. He is not the type of enemy we would want to have, especially with everything we know being threatened by the Lycan.” Jayer soothed her mate.
“I could make him understand you,” Oggie spoke.
“Why? So he could kill us like the Lycan?” Cloud asked.
“Michael Talbot is no friend of the Lycan. He has personally killed at least four.”
“The Old One has killed four Lycan?” Mane asked incredulously. “By himself?”
Oggie nodded.
“Why are you not with him?” Jayer asked.
“We were separated. He was trying to save some human children from turning.”
“He raced the moon? Did he win?” Jayer asked.
“Partially. The girl was saved, the boy was not. When the woman and the girl were safe, I went back in search of my friend.”
“And?”
“I have not found him yet.”
“We will help you.”
“Jayer!” Mane exclaimed.
Cloud looked as if he would go mad from Jayer’s declaration.
“If the Old One cannot help us, we will at least have them both together. Perhaps then, Cloud, you can get your wish. I will prepare the pack for traveling,” she told Mane. Jayer made sure her tale swooshed past and under Cloud’s nose lest he forget she was the alpha female.
If Oggie thought Cloud had some animosity towards him, this paled in comparison to what the pack displayed, though they were less vocal about their protests once it was known that his presence was being permitted by the alpha male and female. Just because he was allowed to be with them, did not mean he was accepted—that was as far from the truth as could be. The wolves gave him a wide berth while also keeping an eye on him. Oggie had not felt more alone than he did right now under the watchful gaze of an entire pack of wolves.
Chapter Seventeen – Mike Journal Entry 10
“Where the fuck did they get a snowplow blade, and just exactly what are they doing with it?” I’m not even sure why I asked the question. Maybe it was to hear my harmonious voice. I knew exactly why they had the damned thing; the thick steel would easily deflect the lead projectiles we would be shooting at them. I did a quick look from side to side as more moving barricades came out of the woods. They’d planned this invasion for a long time. There was never at any time going to be a diplomatic solution. I saw Bailey running across the center street coming my way.
She was no sooner up the staircase before she spoke. “They have more of this steel on the other side. I have told everyone to not fire. I do not wish to waste bullets on something I know will be useless. Do you have any ideas?”
“Oh, I don’t think a few bullets used will be wasted. The noise alone when it impacts will be enough to shatter any thoughts they might be trying to formulate, and it will give them a little fear as well. Fear may lead to panic, and panicking people make mistakes all the time.”
“This is your best strategy?”
“The best I have right now. I’m not some battlefield general. I basically know how to shoot really well. That doesn’t make me a fucking tactician.”
“Nor tactful it would seem.”
“Watch and learn.”
“I’m watching.” She rolled her eyes.
I put my rifle to my shoulder and, lining up a s
hot, put four rounds in quick succession downrange. None of them hit metal.
“I thought you said you were a good shot?”
“Those things are heavy, have to be a bunch of men hefting that thing by handholds, which means their feet are very near the front of that blade.” Almost immediately came the distant sounds of screams. One of my four shots had ricocheted like I’d hoped and most likely crashed into the foot of some poor, unsuspecting slob. The plow blade had, for the moment, stopped moving forward.
“Oh,” Bailey managed to say.
“Now to really mess with them.” I shot three more times. The resultant impacts sounded much like the gonging of a bell. Probably sounded like the bell tower at Notre Dame where the attackers were. If they made it through the battle, it was safe to say that they would suffer permanent hearing loss.
Bailey didn’t need any further convincing; she quickly disseminated the tactic to the rest of her personnel. It played out in some cases with more success, but for the most part, it was just a giant noisemaker. The mobile fortresses still approached, even the one where I had hampered a man. I felt a little bad for the pain he must be going through, especially not having anyone to tend to his wound. The barricades stopped in the forty-yard range or so and just sat there. Nothing happened for maybe close to an hour. Then, off in the woods, there came the beating of a large drum. Should have known that was a signal, however, I was too wrapped up in the drama of it. I’d only ever heard drums in battle in movies. It actually was pretty impressive in person. The invaders stood up from the fortifications and loosed bolts from crossbows.
They were exceedingly accurate, and with most Talbotons caught unawares looking for threats elsewhere, more than a few fell. There was screaming and cursing from the wounded and for the fallen. I had been scraped along the side of my face from the corner of my temple to past my ear. The wind of a moth’s wing beating, had it the chance to affect the flight of the arrow, would have been enough to send that bolt through my eye socket. It would have been lights out at that point. I ducked down like everyone else on that wall. Well, almost everyone. There were those who were in shock or just figured that the immediate threat was over—it wasn’t. The second set of archers stood and loosed the more traditional arrows from bows. A bunch of William Tell wannabes were in attendance. Those unlucky bastards who had kept standing now found themselves falling. Most would never be able to pick themselves back up.
