Lycan Fallout (Book 2): Fall of Man

by Tufo, Mark

  “I made a promise to you. I know I’ve broken promises before to just about everyone I’ve known but not out of malice or conscious deception. It’s just that something has always come up, which made sticking to that original oath not viable.”

  “There’s no need to explain to me, Michael. I’ve known you long enough.”

  “That’s true. What I’m trying to say is that I know Oggie is close and my heart surges with hope knowing he is alive and that I might yet see him again. But I will first do all in my power to make sure that Talboton does not fall. I need to do it partly for me, but mostly I need to show Bailey that maybe I’m not the monster she thinks I am.”

  “She loves you.”

  “Are you yanking my chain?”

  She outright laughed, eliciting more than a few looks from those passing us in the street. “Haven’t heard that particular vernacular in quite some time. And no, I am not yanking your chain as you so eloquently put it. I believe she is more hurt than scared.”

  “You really know how to cheer a fella up.”

  “Perhaps you should seek out Lana.”

  “Now I know how you got your moniker.”

  “Which one?”

  “Witch. Oww! What the hell, Azile!” I felt a shock on my ass like a troop of deer flies had congregated to sit down to a blood meal. “What the hell was that?” I was patting my ass, she was just staring at me, hadn’t moved so much as a muscle.

  She had a wry smile. “I know not what you speak of.”

  “My ass, you don’t.”

  I was still rubbing the sore spot as we walked down the street. I barely even noticed that we had about a twenty-foot bubble of space around us. I don’t think it happened intentionally, but it seemed as if folks didn’t want to get any closer to us than they had to.

  ***

  Mathieu, Azile, and I stayed on the parapet for most of that night. I’d even had the foresight to grab some chairs. We drank mainly iced tea, which was just fine, even if it didn’t have ice in it. It felt more like three friends sitting on a deck overlooking a lake, reminiscing about the summer that had just passed as opposed to waiting for a war that threatened to destroy everything and everyone that we knew. What was the alternative? Worry about it? I’d done enough worrying; this useless emotion did nothing except waste resources. It did not change outcomes nor alter events. I wondered for a moment what went wrong on our evolutionary tract that made worrying a necessary part of our make-up. Maybe it was designed to give action-first idiots like myself time to pause and consider. Hadn’t worked for me yet.

  “It’s a beautiful night.” Mathieu was leaning back, looking at the stars as they began to become visible.

  “It is, and no bugs. Just the right temperature. If my stomach could take it and I could drink a beer, it would almost be perfect.”

  “Michael, with your blood, you should be fine by now.”

  “Azile, I’m going to keep living my lie. The more I still feel like a human, the more human I remain.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Mathieu said as he clinked my glass. I’d taught him the custom when we first started drinking together and now he did it at every opportunity, whether it necessitated it or not. I had to keep telling him that one did not need to do this at the dinner table every time someone took a sip of whatever they had. He didn’t care.

  “What do you want to do tomorrow night, Mathieu?” He knew what I was referring to. I’d strapped him to his bed with the heaviest rope I could find last month. I’d expected to come back to a room that looked like a rock band on a nasty heroin trip had stayed at. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He was human again and in basically the same position I’d left him. He’d told me to hurry up and untie him because he needed to relieve himself to no end. That above all I found to be the most strangely amusing thing I think I’d encountered in a very long time.

  “I think I would like to remain free.”

  “Is that wise?” Azile asked with concern.

  “Wise. She’s funny.” I clinked glasses with Mathieu.

  “I’m serious, Michael. Mathieu, for a variety of reasons I do not think this is a good idea.”

  “I will not attack humans,” he said in no uncertain terms, his words measured and careful. I could feel the anger he was trying to hold back, like a 302 horsepower Mustang at a red light with a cop in the car next to him. It thrummed in him like that muscle-laden engine.

  “That may be the truth…” Azile started.

  “It is.”

  “Can you say the same about the townsfolk attacking you?”

  “She’s got a point.” I placed my hand on him. “Stay calm, my friend. I’ve seen you change a couple of times, I am extremely confident in your abilities to control your alter ego. But there’s going to be a lot of shit going down tomorrow. I don’t want anyone taking a shot at you.”

  “I will not remain tied to that bed again. I laid there the entire night wondering where I could plant some better hops than the ones the brew master here calls acceptable.”

  I spit out my iced tea as I leaned forward.

  “Something funny?” Azile and Mathieu asked.

  “Come on, really? A werewolf debating on where to tend his crops? That shit’s not funny to either of you?”

  Azile was scowling and Mathieu was shaking his head slightly from side to side.

  “Whatever. Next thing you know we’re going to see yetis piloting helicopters.” I took a good long sip from my iced tea to let that image settle in with them.

  It was a comfortable silence we three sat in. From time to time one of us would point out a shooting star or bring up some light remembrance from the past. So it was strange when Mathieu cut right through all of it.

  “I do not wish to die tied to a bed.”

  “Whoa, who said anything about dying?” I asked him.

  “I have not been feeling too good about what may happen tomorrow.”

  I’d actually been feeling pretty good the entire day. I’d not seen one Watcher. I’m sort of ashamed to admit it now but it never really dawned on me what that could mean. I was just happy that we would make it another month. If I took the lack of Watchers to its logical conclusion, it would mean they weren’t here because they were somewhere else getting ready to watch, like Denarth—or more likely Ft. Lufkin—fall.

  “If there is possibly a way to differentiate him from the other werewolves, we could tell the town. Make no mistake, they will not be happy about it.”

  “Yeah, because they’re already so thrilled with having a vampire and a witch running around.”

  “Mike, you will be responsible for his safety.”

  What she was also implying was that I was also responsible for his actions. If he went rogue, it would become necessary for me to put him down. I didn’t like it, not one bit. I don’t blame him for not wanting to potentially be killed while he was bound up. But if something did happen tomorrow night, could he handle the smell of destruction and blood without being affected by it?

  It would be like a honey badger coming across a giant beehive and not going all ape-shit crazy on it. That’s assuming that honey badgers actually liked honey, I really don’t have a clue. It’s not like I have the internet anymore to look this kind of stuff up. And I’d be damned if I would ask Azile, she didn’t need to know just how ignorant I could be.

  “You alright with that, Mathieu? At least in the beginning we’re not going to be anywhere near the battle. I’m going to do my best to keep them as far from these walls as possible.”

  “I have nearly as much control as a werewolf as I do now.”

  “I don’t know how that makes me feel, Mathieu,” I said in earnest. “I mean, you drank until you couldn’t see straight the other night…then you crawled into bed naked with me.”

  “It was my bed, and you got in with me!”

  “I’m going to tell Bailey of this new development, you boys try to play nice.” Azile gave me a soft kiss on the side of the tem
ple. I reached over and lightly touched her hand as she walked away.

  “She doesn’t trust me,” Mathieu said when Azile was out of earshot.

  “I think you were picking up on how she feels about me.”

  “If I fail to hold on to my…promise (he meant humanity), you must not fail with yours.”

  “Haven’t made a promise yet that I haven’t found a decent work-around for.”

  “No, Michael.” He stood and was looking down on me. “This will not be one that you could make an exception for. I cannot be responsible for the death of one more innocent life…ever!”

  “Alright, alright, man, sit down. I will not let you harm anyone who does not have it coming.”

  “That is all I ask.” He sat back down. “I have something new for you to try. Are you interested?”

  “Last person that asked me that gave me mescaline.”

  “This is not whatever mescaline is, well, maybe it is. How can I be sure?”

  He unscrewed the cap to a small leather flask and held it under my nose.

  “Whew... smells like old corn snacks.”

  “It is an alcoholic corn mash.”

  “I think you missed four or five distilling steps, but what the hell.” I took a big gulp, my eyes immediately watering. My throat felt like I’d swallowed fire ants bathing in lava and now my stomach, though it had no tear ducts, wept. “Fucking horrible.” I took another swig. “Wait, is this shit going to make me go blind?” I took another swig.

  “Pretty good, don’t you think?” he asked as he took the flask away and took his own swig.

  “Fuck, no. I’ve swallowed gasoline that went down smoother.”

  “Gasoline?”

  “Let’s put it this way, getting kicked in the balls is a more enjoyable sensation than the experience of having this stuff sand off the lining in my throat as it heads down to my stomach, where I would imagine it is dissolving my internal organs.”

  Mathieu laughed. “Perhaps it is a little unrefined.”

  “A little? The flask would be easier to drink. What made you think to try this?”

  “Stand.”

  “What?”

  “Just stand.”

  I did as he asked. “Oh!” I said as I gripped the armrest of my seat. My head was now firmly entrenched in the smog of a buzz. “All this from two swigs? You poisoned me, didn’t you?”

  “Well, technically all alcohol is poison.”

  “The fuck you say?”

  He nodded. I noticed his smile was slightly lopsided and he now had a grin on his face like he’d just invented x-ray goggles and had spent the day at a yoga class. Funny, now that I’d thought that, if I’d had a mirror I’m pretty sure I would be wearing the exact same expression.

  We finished the flask off, and, of course, the only thing I remember doing for the rest of the night was sitting back down. The guards awakened us that following morning. Mathieu looked a tinge green. I felt a lot bad.

  “You suck,” I told him as I slowly arose from my chair. I wanted to make sure my tumultuous stomach and turbulent head caught up with me before I walked away.

  He groaned.

  I spent most of the day moving slowly from place to place, checking defenses or pretending to listen to council sessions. It wasn’t until close to five that night that I felt human…well, you get it; as human as a half-vampire can be. Damn, my wit just never ceases to amaze me. I was busy patting myself on my shoulder when the alarm was raised. The bell pierced through my skull and punctured the normalcy I’d thought I’d been feeling. Apparently I had not yet rid myself of the ill effects of Mathieu’s venomous elixir.

  I raced up to the wall. Okay, raced is a bit of an exaggeration. I did, however, move faster than I had at any other point during the day. Azile was already standing there.

  “Drink this,” she said, not taking her eyes off the human horde in front of us.

  I guess I should have expected to see what was there. It was never going to be the Lycan leading the charge. There were thousands of people out there. All of them in ragged clothing, if they had anything on at all.

  “They look horrible.” Even from this distance it was easy enough to see that they were malnourished and badly treated.

  “Most have already seen a cycle as well.”

  The Lycan had learned. Tommy and I had led a raid against a Lycan invasion previously. We had figured that, by killing as many Lycan as we could before the moon arose, we could save as many humans as possible, thus keeping them from becoming combatants as well. On paper it had looked like a brilliant scheme. In the real world, it had met with limited success. Only one Lycan had been within reach and the only other enemy we could make contact with were the soon to be werewolves who were unfortunately still all too human. Even that opportunity had been taken from us. The Lycan had delayed their attack just to make sure that could not happen again.

  “What percentage of current population does that force represent? Xavier doesn’t even need to expose himself to conflict. Just keep doing what he’s doing and people don’t stand a chance.”

  “You and I both know that. Xavier may as well, but he wants to coalesce his power now, not in the years it will take to do so. Drink what I have given you. It will make you feel better.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel better.” Part of it was from whatever Mathieu had given me, the other was looking at the vast army of innocents in front of us that were soon to become a crazed horde of werewolves hell-bent on destroying and eating everyone in this town. All of which were, by now, clamoring to get a look at what was threatening their very existence. There were a fair number of people crying, some were going into a stupor, others got angry. Pretty much the entire gambit of emotions those under intense pressure tend towards. Even one or two were laughing uncontrollably. I would imagine the heaviness had become too great and they had snapped like summer sweet carrots being cracked in half.

  “Just drink.” Azile pulled the top off the pouch she’d given me.

  Cooling vapor came out, and I was not too sure, but I thought the liquid was bubbling. Reminded me of an old Halloween decoration Tracy and I had of a black cauldron. It used some fogging solution and a small pump to make the water look like it was boiling. Even made some scary noises and lit up to change the color of the water.

  “Are you going to cackle?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you handed me a witch’s brew, it only seems fitting you should cackle. It would add to the ambiance of the—”

  “Drink the damn thing and shut up.”

  “I talk when I’m nervous,” I told her after taking a sip.

  “Are you kidding me? Mathieu hands you something better suited to strip varnish and you willingly drink. I hand you something that will make you feel better and you take a sip that wouldn’t quench the thirst of a mayfly.”

  I took a much larger swig. “Ugg. His stuff may be used to bore holes through rock, but it tastes better.”

  “All of it, and hurry up, we’re in the midst of a war.”

  “Doesn’t look like I’ll be around long enough to worry about it,” I told her right before I finished the horrid concoction off.

  Bailey had finally gotten things under control; she’d had her men remove the townsfolk from the wall until only soldiers remained, but even some of those she had to send away in hopes that they could get some rest before they were called back.

  I did feel surprisingly well after Azile’s drink. Now I wished I could hunt down Mathieu and drink more of whatever he had to help me forget what I was looking at. It was hours before sunset, and more importantly, moonrise. So, when the people started moving forward, it was a shock to all of us. As if the sight of war-ravaged refugees yelling and crying for help wasn’t fucking weird enough, a thick, black shade of Watchers hung over them like their own personal rain clouds. Men, women, and children were all slowly coming towards us. Some had their hands in the air while others had them out in front pleading. Most we
re crying, others begging.

  “What the fuck?” I said—probably the most profound thing I would say for the rest of the day. Who am I shitting? Probably the most profound thing I’d ever said. “What are they doing?” I was referring more to the Lycan. The people’s motives were easy enough to discern; they didn’t want themselves or their loved ones to die.

  “What are you doing, Michael?” Azile asked as I put my rifle up to my shoulder.

  “What needs to be done? Why? What do you think we should do, open the gates and give them sanctuary? You know as well as I do what’s going to happen in a few hours. These people are going to be raging monsters not giving one shit that the arm they’re tearing off was just handing them something to eat.”

  “Do not pull that trigger!” Gount had shouted from thirty feet away.

  “Are you fucking insane? Does no one realize these people are going to kill you?”

  “They have done nothing to us and they do not threaten us now!” He was coming closer, yet still shouting as if I could not hear him.

  I lined up a shot, the recoil pushing my shoulder back. Smoke wound lazily up from the barrel of my weapon. An older man fell to the ground, a gaping wound in his chest cavity. What I found strange was that not one person went to the ground to see if he was all right. They streamed past him like he was so much discarded trash.

  “If you fire your weapon again I will have Bailey shoot you!” Gount fairly shrieked.

  The noise of an entire town came to a grinding halt, so much so that I could hear the distinctive click of Bailey’s weapon going from “safe mode” to “fire.”

  I fired again, this time hitting a woman. Her screams of pain ripped across the landscape. I felt first and then heard the shot that hit me. I fell into the wall as my leg gave out. A bullet had scraped against my thigh, the pain was excruciating. I stood back up, making sure to keep as much weight off my injured right leg as possible. Ignoring the pain and the fact that Bailey had just shot me, I set my sights on another man. This time I sent the top of his head spiraling on to those behind him.

  Bailey was less than five feet away, the butt stock of her rifle upraised. Her intention, I would think, to smash it down on the side of my head. I moved just enough that I felt the scrape of the stock against my nose. Bailey lost her balance as she missed. There was a long, long second where she started to fall and would have more than likely gone over the wall and to the ground ten feet below on the outside of the town. Chances were she wouldn’t die, but she might suffer an injury, if only to her pride perhaps. I shot my hand out and grabbed the front of her shirt, stopping her before she had a chance to go over.