by K. R. Smith
“How old were you when you phased for the first time, Gran?” I asked her over the dinner table.
She, Grandfather, Great Grandma, Uncle Julian, Aunt Danika, and my younger cousins would often come to dinner, or I would go to Gran and Grandfather’s house with my parents and see everyone there.
“I phased for my first time when I was 13 years old. My mother phased for her first time when she was 16.” Gran shrugged so casually it was as if we were talking about learning how to do a handstand.
To say that my family was ‘unique’ would have been an understatement. With Mum and Gran being Circulators; their bio-electromagnetic frequencies are in temporal flux so they hardly aged. Both my Mum and my Gran had the appearance of human women in their twenties. But their husbands, Dad and Grandfather didn’t mind this one bit. Since Dad, Grandfather and Uncle Julian were Lokoti Werewolves, they could live until they’re 200 years old. My 56 year old Grandfather looked like a man in his early forties as my 39 year old Dad had the appearance of a man in his mid twenties. As was the custom of our tribe except with my family, the Lokoti Werewolves outlived their human wives.
Whereas we lived on the hill, the Sabre’s (pronounced Sar-bra, if you ever want to see Declan’s Werewolf eyes glow then mispronounce his surname) lived in the central community of our tribal lands where the sports field, general store/ gas station, garage, meeting hall and small library/ school were. The Lokoti community centre was like a village primarily made up of residential homes on small streets, with simplistic gardens and greenhouses for families to grow their own fruit and vegetables. All of the buildings here were made from wood which came courtesy of the surrounding forest.
Our tribal lands were safely tucked away in a small corner of the vast Lokoti National Park in the Alaska Range. We were situated 4.5 hours north of Anchorage and 1.5 hours south of Fairbanks. The small township of Alma is 7 km’s away where before the War, the Lokoti kids went to school and families shopped in the supermarket there. However since the War, Alma like many towns or cities of this planet, either turned into a ghost town or a crime hotspot thanks to looting.
Aunt Susan and Gran helped run our make-shift school which primarily went from when you were 7 – 15 years old. But there were some kids like Derik and I, who continued our schooling by concentrating on different areas. Derik loved studying science and I just loved studying history, so our parents continued to tell us what additional books we could read. They even set us ‘assignments’ which we occasionally had to write up to show if we understood or not, the books which had been recommended.
“He doesn’t just look like his Great Great Grand Uncle, Mike Sabre but he has disposition too… maybe Derik will become a Medicine Man? Mike Sabre was a doctor.” Gran shrugged to Aunt Susan. She and Grandfather were especially close to Aunt Susan and her sons, as they helped the widow raise her young.
My aunt was equally proud of her two boys, although they were as different from each other as chalk and cheese. Derik had brown hair, brown eyes and was academic, sensitive and easy to talk to. He had been my playmate ever since we were babies as our birthdays were only two weeks apart.
However Derik’s older brother Declan, was another story. He stopped going to school when he was 13 years old to become an apprentice mechanic instead. Declan is soon to turn 21 and he’s the rudest, most arrogant boy in the tribe… with dark blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a constant scowl. He bosses Derik around a lot, seeing himself as head of the family. The only people I’ve ever seen him be nice to, are adults such as his parent, my parents and to my grandparents. When Declan changed, the Lokoti Werewolf pack took him under their wing. By taking him hunting every full moon in the National Park, they taught the young European Werewolf to replace his craving for human flesh to animal instead.
When Lokoti Werewolves change they still look humanoid; as their muscles bulk up, their eyes change colour and glow, the nails on their hands and feet turn long and hard, like claws. Their teeth become elongated and sharp as they have lightening fast reflexes and supernatural strength. But when Declan changes, he completely morphs from man to beast. He looks like a huge, hulking, hairless wolf with his height and weight doubling; which means he’s bigger and stronger than the Lokoti Werewolf. His bright green eyes would glow in the dark and from the few times I’d seen them in Werewolf form, they still unnerved me.
The fifteen Lokoti Werewolves are highly esteemed members of the Lokoti tribe. Three of our nine Tribal Elders are Werewolves. The Lokoti Werewolves were seen as our guardians. World War Three occurred three years before I was born and from then, the Lokoti Werewolves have patrolled our tribal lands, keeping us safe from looters during the outside world’s sickness and lawlessness. They even fought foreign Werewolves who still feasted on human flesh, like the European Werewolf who killed Anthony Sabre and turned Declan.
Our tribe has become accustomed to the mish-mash of different breeds of Werewolves, or Circulators and other humans with special gifts. To the humans, it became easy to spot a Werewolf in the crowd due to their towering height and strong build. To the Werewolves, it was easy with their infrared sight, to spot the Circulator or the psychic, because of the auras they produced.
And me…? I’m nobody special, not really. I’m the daughter, granddaughter and niece of Lokoti Werewolves but that’s it. Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be a Circulator but I can’t circulate. I’m the last Circulator in all of human history, so my family says. My appearance is nothing out of the ordinary either. I’m 160 cm’s tall with typical straight, black Lokoti hair but I have my mother’s and my grandmother’s blue eyes. My skin wasn’t bronzed like the Lokoti natural skin colour either and neither is Mum’s. I think my mother and I get our colouring from my grandmother who is English.
Gran has bright blue eyes, pale skin and wavy, chestnut brown hair. Grandfather and Dad are either half or three-quarter Lokoti with the typical straight black hair. But Grandfather’s grandmother was Caucasian so he has her blue eyes. Nana, who is my Dad’s Mum, is Chinese-American so Dad has her pale skin and dark, sharp eyes. With my blue eyes, they were darker than my family’s for some reason. Maybe because my father’s Lokoti-Asian dark brown were mixed in?
“B!” I heard Mum call out.
“Yeah?”
“Dinner’s ready!”
I opened my bedroom door and skipped downstairs to take my place at the table. I found Dad was home from his meeting with the Tribal Elders and the pack and he helped Mum serve dinner. They shared the jobs around the house like cooking and cleaning in equal measure, which included raising their beloved only child.
“How are you B?” He smiled.
“Good thanks Dad. What’s for dinner?” I watched my parents serve up in the kitchen.
“Roast Duck and vegetables.” He answered. “We’ve got plenty of food here, it looks like we have enough leftovers for the next two nights.”
“I was expecting Derik would be staying for dinner.” Mum said.
“That boy’s got the appetite of a Werewolf alright, although he’s human.” He let out a laugh.
Dad carried our plates over to the table and placed mine in front of me before taking his seat. Mum followed after him and she poured us all a glass of milk each.
“Is this Great Grandma’s special gravy recipe?” I paused before I picked up the gravy boat.
“Of course.” She answered.
I picked up the gravy boat, poured a generous amount over my plate and then I started to pass it to Dad.
“Your mother first.” He nodded towards his mate whom he doted upon.
I held the gravy boat for Mum as she finished doling out our glasses of milk. She took it from me, poured it and then passed it to Dad, coupled with a small smile. He beamed back, before he cleared his throat and turned my way.
“Are you going to Ben’s bonfire tonight?”
“Yep.” I answered as I picked up my cutlery.
“You’ll be home by midnight, OK?”
“OK.�
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“Ask Derik to walk you home.” He added on.
“Why?”
“Because I’m old fashioned.” He said simply.
“Huh?” I gave a funny look.
“In the olden days it was the custom for men to walk women home.” Mum informed.
“Why?”
“Well, safety was the primary issue.” She shrugged.
“But I’m safe as nothing ever happens here. The pack keeps out strangers and outsiders.” I scoffed as I ate. Dad shared a knowing look with Mum, which I caught. “What is it?”
“How did the meeting with the Tribal Elders go?” My mother asked my father.
“Remember how we were talking a couple of months ago how Alma is starting to become repopulated again? Apparently there is a bad element brewing in the town. The Elders have been approached by a representative of the town who asked if the pack will remove the trouble makers.” He told her.
Mum arched her eyebrows in surprise. “What’s the consensus of the Elders?”
“They’re thinking about it.” Dad said. “What happens in town does affect our tribal lands. A couple of times when we’ve been on patrol we’ve had to warn off some of the new townspeople who’ve been poaching on our land.”
“What’s poaching?” I asked.
“It’s when somebody hunts game or wildlife on somebody else’s land… so in fact that they’re killing somebody else’s animals to eat.” She explained.
“Isn’t that stealing?”
“It’s definitely trespassing.” Dad said staunchly. “They feign ignorance, but twice I’ve caught the same group of men doing it.”
“The same group of men who are the bad element?” She guessed.
“Your father and brother told me when they’ve been on patrol how they’ve also moved this group of men on, when they’ve been drinking on our land.” He said unhappily. “The last six months we’ve had the most problems with these particular guys.”
“So how many people are we talking about here, that the pack has been asked to play law enforcers by removing?” She asked concerned.
“Around twenty.” He answered.
“And the townspeople have tried asking them to leave?”
“The townspeople have.”
“And what happened?” She pressed.
“They beat up the town’s representatives of the three men and one woman. A week later the hoodlums reopened the old Bar and are serving moonshine, attracting more of a bad element.” He said flatly.
Mum glared down at her plate, losing her appetite which I could tell as she just pushed the food around instead of eating it.
“They hit the woman?” I looked at my father in alarm as he gave a nod. I wanted to clarify, “they actually beat up the woman?”
Dad looked like he was regretting talking about this now, as he looked on guiltily.
“Hang on.” I put down my cutlery. “They – the men – the baddies in the story, HIT the woman?”
“Unfortunately that’s what baddies do, B.” Dad said softly, as he reached over to put his hand over mine.
Flabbergasted, I looked back… I hadn’t heard of men physically harming women except in the books I’ve read. Aside from the tribe’s story of the second last time a Lokoti Werewolf feasted on human was 300 years ago in vengeance of the English soldiers who had kidnapped six Lokoti women; the very last time a Lokoti Werewolf tasted human flesh was three months before I was born. A group of over 500 invaders who were sick, starving and desperate, tried to invade our tribal lands since unpolluted land safe from nuclear fall out was precious and rare.
I had grown accustomed to the blissful domesticity that our tribe had worked hard to create. Ours was a world where doors were left unlocked, everyone knew each other’s names and we had many tribal celebrations. Sure, things got sad when somebody died? But with the miraculous skill of our Medicine Man my Grandpa, he used his Werewolf supernatural senses to accurately diagnose and offer treatment. The highest cause of death in the tribe was simply old age.
Our festivities centered around the change in the seasons, or when it was somebody’s birthday, or when the tribe threw a Housewarming for a couple whom moved in together. Ben’s bonfire tonight was to commemorate the last night of the summer. All the tribe’s young people would be there to ‘hang out’ and sip soda which was only served on special occasions since it was becoming a rare commodity now.
“So I would prefer it if Derik walked you home after the bonfire tonight.” Dad patted my hand before he returned to his eating.
“Why?” I asked again. “No baddies or strangers make it past our boarders with the Werewolves patrolling.”
“Call it peace of mind.” He said coolly.
“But Derik lives at the bottom of the hill, twenty minutes away. So he’ll have to walk me home, twenty minutes up the hill and then back home again, twenty minutes back. That’s over half an hour out of his way.” I debated.
“I don’t think Derik will mind.” My mother smirked to my father.
“Not if he’s hoping for a kiss for his effort.” He smirked back.
“Mum! Dad! Shut up!” I turned bright red. My parents cracked up laughing at how quickly my face’s colour changed. “Besides as my father, aren’t you meant to be chasing my suitors away?”
“If your ‘suitor’ was a hoodlum or a baddie, yes I would chase him away. But this is Derik we’re talking about here. He’s been your best friend from the age of 0 – 16 and your boyfriend since.” Dad shrugged. “He’s a good boy.”
“He’s NOT my boyfriend.” I looked down to concentrate on cutting up my food. “Derik’s my best friend but that’s it.”
“What is with the women in your family?” Dad looked on Mum, who looked inquiringly back. “Your father took a while to woo your mother, it took me a while to woo you and now Derik is up against the same wall around our daughter?”
“Stop exaggerating!” She rolled her eyes. “My Mum had me when she was 19 years old and I had B when I was 19 too. I wouldn’t call that strong opposition!”
“Ah, but your father fell in love with your mother when he was 14 and I fell in love with you when I was 2 years old.” He arched his eyebrows. “It took me sixteen years to finally make a mark or put a dent in your exterior.”
“Oh excuse me for not becoming pregnant when I was 13 years old!” Mum said sarcastically.
“I saved your mother’s life when she was 5 and I was 7 years old.” Dad began the old story.
“Here we go.” She sat back and folded her arms.
“She nearly drowned when the river flooded after a bad storm. She was down there by herself, which she wasn’t allowed to do when she was that age. I sensed she was in danger and I reached her first.” He recanted the tale.
Mum and I exchanged smiles of amusement as we listened to him retell the story I’ve heard repeatedly since I was a little girl.
“I’ve always known that your mother is the woman for me. But getting your mother to see this point of view was another story.” He gave her a goofy grin. “When your mother was 7 years old, she started running away and hiding from me. When she was 14, I asked her out on a date but she turned me down. From the ages of 14 to 18, I kept asking her out and she continued to turn me down. She was so stubborn, she would probably still be doing that; but then I saved her life a second time when she was 18 and I was 20 years old and from that day on, I could finally call her my mate.”
“Now I’m stuck with him for another 100 years.” She pulled a face, making me laugh.
“But she secretly loves every minute that we’re together.” He pulled a face too, continuing the laughter.
“Your father has his bearable moments.” She conceded with a sigh.
“My heart still races when your mother walks into a room.” He sighed too.
My parents shared one of their typical meaningful long glances across the table.
“Er, kids in the room.” I said uncomfortably as I stood up from the table an
d carried my plate into the kitchen. As I put my plate in the sink, I enquired, “do you want me to wash up?”
“No, you go on to the bonfire.” Mum said.
“And remember, let Derik walk you home.” Dad ordered.
*****
I arrived at the bonfire in Ben’s back yard just before seven o’clock and found a large crowd of young people, between the ages of 12 to 22 already here.
Ben was two years older than me and was a mechanic along with Declan and Uncle Finn. The garage they worked at was beside the general store/ gas station. The boys called themselves ‘grease monkeys’ and played loud rock music all day as they worked on a car or motor bike or boat engine. Declan may have been an arrogant asshole, but Ben was pretty cool. He was human, funny and charismatic. He’s been holding bonfire parties in his parent’s large back yard since he was 14 years old.
“Hey Ben.” I greeted him first, since this was his party.
“Hey B!” He smiled exuberantly, as he shook my hand. “Welcome! Grab yourself a soda. My Mom and Dad are over there, doling them out.”
“Thanks.” I walked away to let him continue his conversation before I interrupted. Ben was talking to Feather, one of the tribe’s prettiest girls.
“Hi B.”
“How’s it goin’, B?”
“Good to see you, B.”
I smiled as I said the expected pleasantries back to the familiar faces that I grew up with as I walked to the drinks table. I saw Derik was talking to Pan, a boy who was a year older than us. He noticed my arrival and waved me over. I waved back and mouthed ‘in a minute’. He understood and turned back to continue his conversation.
“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Shallow Water.” I greeted, approaching Ben’s parents.
“Hi Bianca.” She smiled warmly. “How are you? How is your mother?”
“Good thanks.”
“Say hi to her for me, won’t you.” Mrs. Shallow Water said. “Now what soda would you like?”
I looked at the bottles of root beer, creaming soda, lemonade and cola.
