Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (2 page)

I returned to my throne, sated, and for a moment…almost at peace. I slumbered, my hands over my full, sloshing belly. Could have been a day, maybe a week when I re-awoke. Maybe longer since there was now a good three or four inches of snow on thre f snow e ground. The house was groaning from its frosty covering. Would I stay once the house came down? Odds were, yes; I was as much a part of the house as any of the fixtures, I was a semi-living haunt of the residence. It would take a talented real estate agent to explain me away to a prospective buyer.

Oh don’t mind him; he hardly ever makes any noise.

I sneered at my own thought.

The winter was a particularly bad one; snow must have got to about two feet at one time. The spring was heralded with the happy cries of birds and gophers – none of which would venture forth into my underground lair. Spring rains turned into the muggy heat of summer, legions of mosquitoes patrolled the air looking for their next blood meal. The air began to cool at night and then the days themselves were cool and crisp, it was almost time to eat again.

Tommy came in. He didn’t announce himself
. In fact, he didn’t say anything to me as he once again paid his respects to his adoptive family and friends. I’ll admit I was more than a little pissed. I had my normal practiced rant, and much like a performer, I wanted an audience to witness it.

As he was leaving I yelled at him. “Where’s my food?”

“Where it always is,” he shouted over his shoulder before heading out.

I arose from my seat when I was sure he was gone. I rounded the corner and tied up to the tree was something that dropped me to my knees. I pressed my palms into my eyes; I pulled my hands away to notice they were wet. I had not felt human for so long I was unsure I was still able to produce tears. I ran over to the tree and untied the puppy, a small leather collar around his neck
with a tag shaped like a bone attached to it, his name clearly marked. ‘A. Purpose’.

I hugged the puppy tight
ly, then I pushed him away. I grabbed him roughly and placed his neck against my teeth. I put him down and hastily urged him away.

“Go away, Purpose! I don’t want you!” I shouted at him, stamping my feet. He thought I was playing and would growl and bark trying to bite at them. “NO!” I retreated to my man-made cave. I got back into my seat and threw my head back. Languished cries of remorse and mourning pounded through me. I cried to the Heaven’s…I cursed to Hell…and everything in between got an earful. I might have stayed in that state until Tommy showed the next year, but I felt a small tugging at my foot.

I pulled forward and looked down, Purpose was growling at my boot. I stared at him for hours. He stared back for a few minutes, yawned, and immediately fell asleep at my feet. I pulled my legs up so we weren’t touching. He cried, and something akin to emotion snapped inside of me. I picked him up and placed him on my lap. He would not find warmth there, though. I shook off the old coverlet and wrapped him in it. He licked my hand once and was almost immediately back asleep.

His belly grumbled like only an empty stomach can, mine followed suit in sympathetic notes. It was then that I realized Tomas had not brought me food. I was starving, and when
Purpose woke up, he would be also. I stood up as quietly as I could so as not to disturb the dog. I gently placed him down in my seat and went out in to the woods. Deer, turkeys, moose, and bears had all rebounded nicely with the absence of the apex predator. It would not be dmasuld notifficult to find us sustenance. I did not know it then, but I already loved him.

Tommy had succeeded in what he’d set out to do…he had given me Purpose.

***

I moved out of the house that following day, not far mind you but out. It was too dangerous for Purpose in there, and I didn’t want anything to happen to him. I made a small lean-to in the yard and kept a fire going the entire winter. When the spring thaw came I buried each urn and marked them with a small headstone. I said a hollow prayer as I laid each to rest. I didn’t find comfort in it, but I hoped that, as they watched
over me from above, they would.

Purpose stood next to me solemnly as I did the unenviable task. When I was done he bounded off chasing after a rabbit that had strayed into his territory. Purpose wasn’t an English Bulldog, but he was close. As man neared the brink, so did his most trusted and loyal friend, dogs that could not adapt were now gone forever. Only the medium-sized, smarter breeds like
Retrievers, Huskies, and Pit Bulls survived and even thrived. Purpose looked something like an Old English Bulldog, with longer legs like an American Bulldog, a square head like a Rottweiler and a semi pushed-in nose; much like my beloved Henry. His markings were as near to Henry as I could remember, his body was fawn colored, with black rings around his eyes and his face was white.

I
was standing over Gary’s spot in the ground when I heard Purpose barking a warning. I turned quickly. Somebody was coming.

“Come, Purpose,” I told him as we strode back into the house.

I heard Tommy stop by the headstones: a few moments later he called out. “Mr. T, you here?”

Purpose bristled at first and then relaxed when I assumed he recognized the voice.

“Where’s the dog?” Tomas asked from outside.

“You mean that morsel you brought me to eat last year? I do hope you upped your game this year, I’ve been very hungry.”

“Does your food always leave droppings?”

“Busted,” I said to Purpose who I let go. He immediately bounded out of the basement to greet our guest properly.

“What is he feeding you?” Tommy asked as Purpose bowled him over. After a few minutes of rough housing Tommy stood up. “It’s good to see you up and about, Mr. T.”

I didn’t answer him.

He motioned to the small, marked mounds. “I’m glad you finally put them at peace.”

My heart panged as I realized the finality of my act. “I wish I was at peace.”

Tommy had seen the hurt on my face and the pain in my words and quickly moved on. “How has Purpose been doing?” he asked.

“Who, that mangy mutt? He eats more than any dog I’ve ever known. It’s difficult to keep him satisfied.”

“You look better.”

“You didn’t bring any food?t bringfood?♀

“Pop-Tarts have been extremely hard to come by in this new world of man. My hope is someday that someone finds the recipe and begins to replicate it. There is a baker in New Detroit that bakes an awesome blonde brownie with a caramel center, though.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of meat, but now that you mention it, sweets sound pretty good
too. I’m curious, though, we’ve had this routine you and me…for over a century as a matter of fact. I sit morosely in the house and you bring food. What changed?”

“The world changed, and I need you involved in it. So
, either you were going to hunt for the puppy I brought, or you were going to eat him and then we were going to have a serious problem.”

I didn’t ask for clarification. Tommy might be a boy in outward appearance but he was five hundred years my senior and significantly more powerful than me. ‘We’ had a serious problem really meant that ‘I’ had a serious problem. I was thankful that Purpose had been too small at the time to get an enjoyable meal out of.

We sat down on a small bench I had in my lean-to. Purpose was busy patrolling his domain and reveling in every moment of it.

“What now, Mr. T?”

“I don’t know, Tommy. I guess I always thought the pain of loss would diminish. But, if anything, it’s grown over the years. Maybe it’s because I will never be able to honor my last words to Tracy as she died in my arms.”

“We will be together again,” Tommy murmured, remembering back to that snowy winter day.

Tracy had been closing in on ninety, and I loved her as much then as I did when we met. Even more so, I guess, because I knew our time was coming to an end. I always thought that ‘Soul Mate’ was just a term that lovelorn teenagers gave to the fleeting loves they had in between classes. But that was Tracy – to me, we were connected on so many different levels, that I think she had felt the loss of my soul just as deeply as I had, maybe even more so. To realize there was an afterlife, and that I could not spend it with her, well that was just a pain that at times became too difficult to dwell on.

“Something is different, Tommy
. I can tell by the way you’re lingering. Normally you can’t wait to pay your respects, drop off your food, and be gone. I’m not sure if part of it is from the guilt of my condition, which, by the way, you have no culpability in, I made the choice. Or it’s just my shittier-than-thou demeanor, hell; I don’t even like being around myself and why Purpose stays is beyond me.”

“He sees something there, Mr. T, something you had a long time ago. It’s still there…
you just have to dig a bit deeper.”

“So what gives? Remember I grew up in Boston, I know when I’m being played. Damn
, I miss the Red Sox.”

“They’ve started playing a version of baseball
. Looks more like hockey with base pads, but they’re calling it baseball.”

“Full-contact baseball? I love it; maybe I’ll have to catch a game someday.”

“What if that day were a little sooner than exp f bner thaected?”

“Could you please just tell me what’s going on?”

“There’s a new threat to man.”

I didn’t say anything; man had been on the edge and had come through the other side – not unscathed, but they had made it. “And what concern of that is mine?” I finally asked.

“You are still half-human, I would think that would be enough.”

“It’s not
.” I answered flatly and a bit too quickly.

“Purpose is a fine dog
, and he seems to love you even with all your faults. Treated kindly and with love, he will most likely live fifteen years, maybe a few more. What then, Mr. Talbot? You going to go back and stink up your hovel?”

“You leave him out of this!” I shouted as I stood. Purpose was on the far end of the yard; he looked over at me, his head cocked to the side, wondering why I was so upset. “Do not lecture me, Tommy! I think I love that scraggly, gangly damn dog, and I will not listen to you talk about his eventual decline and death!” I was shaking in rage. “Why would you make me go through this again?” I asked as I sat heavily, my face in my hands as I hid the shame of my outburst.

“I gave you Purpose, to give you a purpose, Mr. T. You can still be a part of something even if you are apart from it.”

“That’s pretty philosophical.”

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands,” he said in a placating manner.

“Please tell me zombies haven’t made a resurgence. I never knew how sweet the smell of fresh air could actually be.”

“Worse.”

That perked my interest somewhat and I think Tommy knew it.

“Fine, I’m listening…what’s worse?”

“Lycanthropes.”

“What? Listen, I know I haven’t seen a dictionary in years, much less read a book, but what the hell is a lycanthrope?”

“A werewolf…sort of.”

“Oh, come on.” I stood. Purpose, again, stopped what he was doing to look at me, the crazy part-human. “Werewolves? Really? How about a Frankenstein or two just for fun?”

“No just the werewolves
or actually lycan would be the correct term.”

“If that’s true and not just some ruse of yours to get me out of this yard, then how bad could it be? Last movie I watched there was like one of them and they ate a person or two every full moon.”

“That’s myth.”

“What’s myth?”

“The full moon aspect,” he answered. “Lycan can change at any time, they just happen to be strongest during the full moon.”

“Stop dancing around it and get to the meat of it, please, I’m a busy person.”

Tommy looked up at me, his eyebrows upraised as if to say ‘Really?’

“I have to get dinner for Purpose and me,” I told him in haste.

“The zombies killed some Lycan, but not nearly the same sort of percentages that man suffered. It was always man’s vast numbers that kept Lycan on the periphery of existence. They didn’t dare disturb the sleeping giant. They would take only what they needed to feed. Often times relying on the homeless and destitute to satisfy themselves.”