Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (21 page)

“Abomination,” Xavier said as he watched the transformation. He’d heard about werewolves and had thought they sounded disgusting just by the description. To watch it happen in front of him had taken on a whole new meaning. The shape tried so hard to take on the form of the greater species but was so hampered by the genetic differences between the two as to create the distorted thing in front of him. He knew it was too late to eat her but thought that perhaps his experiment had gone far enough and that he should just end it.

The minimum of clothes she had on tore from her body as she gained size and mass. Her eyes took on a yellow hue. She looked at Xavier, a wild power in her eyes. Xavier roughly grabbed the beast and threw her over the snow
mound. He watched as she eyed the town ahead. She howled weakly and bounded off.

“Fetch,” Xavier said as he stayed low and approached slowly.

The girl ran for a pack of the biters even as they saw her and began to converge. The werewolf seemed confused. Messages in her Lycan-infused brain told her she was the predator and all below her should cower. She fought savagely and bit deeply as more and more of the biters attacked. Xavier didn’t watch too long, but he did take note of how many biters she had felled and how many more she had distracted. He was free to roam the small city in search of a viable food source.

He would remember next time to bring more werewolves when he found himself almost riddled with bullets. He had taken care of one threat but not the other. In the end, he had sacrificed one meal and taken down six. Even bringing back two to his pack. The tainted humans had nearly cost his kind their existence, and he would forever harbor a deep-seated hatred against them. He already had disdain as they were nothing more than cattle with teeth, but th
at had turned into a seething, red mass of anger and resentment; one which would propel him in his quest to control the united clans and finally drag man down from its lofty perch as top dog.

He had another lesson he had learned from man: herding. Hunting was exhausting and dangerous. How much easier would life be if they had to do nothing more than pull one from a cell? Feeding them was laborious but they needed very little in comparison. A few rats and some wild onions and the vermin could survive almost indefinitely. At least until feeding time.

r t

BT was a man I loved, an incredible friend, confidante and ally. A person who I would have given my life for if he had merely asked. I mean I would have questioned him on it, but if he had a valid reason, I would have done it. The last few chaotic years we had fought, the zombies had exhausted us all and strengthened an already steel-encased bond. When he had come to me at the end asking my blessing to leave and see if he could start a life anew, what could I say? I couldn’t deny him that. What future did I hold for him?

I had missed him intensely for years, mourning his leaving as if it had been a passing
, because, in those days, it was. He had taken a radio with him and we had talked often those first few months. He said he had finally settled – somewhere at the edge of Pennsylvania, I believe. Said he had found someone and they were going to start over, their own Garden of Eden. We had laughed. I don’t know if he ran out of batteries or life just got too busy, but our communication stopped. I had momentarily entertained visiting him after the love of my life had passed and then it had sourly dawned on me that he would have as well; or even worse, he would have been so diminished from the ravages of time as to be unrecognizable. I would not replace the image of him I held dear with the shell of an old man who might not even remember me. I never thought about his relatives; it was tough to care about people I had thus far never encountered.

And now his status had been moved from that of mere mortal to god…maybe demi-god. I don’t need to piss any other deities off. I lifted my glass of amber pilsner to my mouth and drank deeply.

“They say he started to experiment with brewing when he couldn’t find any more,” Bailey told me as I showed her how to clink our mugs together.

She looked at me questioningly. “It is a custom of celebration,” I told her.

“By the bumping of cups?”

“Well you’re supposed to say ‘cheers’ as well.”

“He has many other strange customs,” Azile said, sipping on a goblet of wine.

“My great-great-grandfather devoted entire chapters to those customs,” Bailey said. “He called them the
Idiosyncrasies of Michael Talbot.
  They were so humorous I thought them to be completely fabricated.”

I downed a big swig. “Wonderful, he’s giving me shit a hundred years in the grave. God I miss him,” I said, swigging the rest of the pale ale down.

The rest of the night, at least for me, was spent in a foggy daze remembering past events, forgetting present grievances and some talk of future planning. I left that to the adults as I kept checking to make sure they weren’t going to run out of ale any time soon.

I tell you, there are some perks to having vampire blood coursing through your system, when the sun streamed through the small window the following day, I should have been half
blinded, head pounding, and stomach swimming in acidic stew. I sat up entirely too quickly and half expected to swoon. My feet hit the Cfee pofloor and I stood with not so much as a hiccup.

“All the benefit of getting a drink on with none of the nasty hangover,” I said, stretching. It was out of the corner of my eye I got my first inkling something might be wrong. The blankets which I had been under were still harboring a form. As inebriated as I was last night it could damn near be anyone, Lana, Azile, Bailey, shit maybe even Tommy. I laughed a little at that part. But what had I done, more importantly…who?

Oggie rolled over, and my heart rejoiced. I had not done anything foolhardy. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to anymore.

“Hey, you big lug,” I said, wrestling his head. He rolled back over; apparently he’d had a little too much celebration himself.

I opened my door to realize I was in some sort of hotel. A man was seated in a chair right outside my door.

“Sir!” he said, standing quickly.

“Relax. Are you there for my safety or yours?” I asked.

“Sir?”

“I was just wondering why I had a guard.”

“I’m no guard, Bailey Tynes told me to stay out here until you woke up and then I was supposed to get anything you might need. And when Bailey Tynes tells you to do something it is not wise to not do so.”

“That’s a lot of words,” I told him, “but I would have to agree with the gist of what you’re saying. Anything?”

“Yes, sir.”

I thought about BT’s brew for a few moments. “Can you make sure my dog is let out when he awakes?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you,” I told him, and then I walked down the stairs and outside into the center of a bustling community.

I walked down the boardwalk enjoying the feel of the sun on my face, careful to make sure I stayed away from people so I wouldn’t have to interact. I got a few sidelong glances at first, and then it became more pronounced. Folks were beginning to stare…and then I heard the whispers.

Were they talking about me?
I thought.
Did they know me for the monster I was?

I was half a heartbeat away from retreating back to my bed with my furry friend when I caught sight of Azile heading my way.

“It’s about time you got up,” she told me, like it was high noon.

“Cut me some slack, I got hammered last night. And it can’t be more than eight in the morning.”

“Seven-thirty, and you do know as a half-vamp, alcohol has very little effect on you, don’t you?”

“Well I do now, don’t I? Got anything else you want to ruin for me? Like maybe Santa isn’t real.”

“How can so many things hinge on you? Come on, we’ve got to talk to the city council.”

“How come folks are looking at me?” I asked as she led me away.

“Word has got out.”

“Wonderful.”

“It could help our cause.”

“Oh, I doubt that, but you live in whatever fantasy you want. Who am I to take that away from you?”

“Who is Lana to you?” she asked directly, stopping our forward progress to do so.

“She’s a pain in the ass, is what she is. Tried to shake her twice. Had no idea Davy Crockett had been reborn, girl could track an ant on ice.”

“Your evasiveness gives me pause to consider.”

“You pause all you want,” I told her as I started moving again. I smiled though, it’d been a long time since I’d had someone of the female persuasion interested.

She led us back into the saloon; I liked the idea of that, Azile’s words be damned, I had been crocked the night before. But having woke without any ill effects, it had given me that damn pause to reconsider her words.

“Multi-functional place,” I said as we walked in. I noticed that two tables had been joined together. There were nine people sitting there, Bailey included. Five women and four men, although it was quite possible on further inspection one of the females was a man,
as her facial features were entirely too dour to get a read. Well…that and the significant amount of facial hair she had.

Bailey stood and spoke. “This committee has been called to hear concerns that Azile the Red Witch has in regards to the Lycan of the West.”

There was some murmuring amongst them. Most of it looked like grumbling.

“I have a business to run, of what
concerns are the Lycan to us, Red Witch?” Dour-Faced asked. “We have always known of their existence, they leave us alone as we do them. We should leave it at that.”

“Normally, Chairperson Gount, I would agree with you. Choosing to fight the Lycan is never a healthy endeavor. But the time is rapidly approaching where they are going to force the issue.”

Chair-thingy Gount flapped her hand at Azile as if to say ‘whatever.’

“We have heard your concerns before about the Lycan assembling armies. And yet, not one person east of the Mississippi has ever seen one. Your case to cause hysteria and panic among the population is not well received here,” she continued.

“Michael?” Azile nudged.

“What?” I asked.

“Tell them who you are.”

“Don’t they know?”

“Ah yes, the so-called Michael Talbot, how convenient that you were able to unearth a myth to further your cause,” the chair-thingy said. “How old does that make you, sir? A couple of hundred years old?” There was some snickering among the assembled.

“I’m heading home,” I told Azile, turning to leave.

“You will do no such thing, Michael Talbot,” Bailey said. “You will stand there and convince these people who you are and why we need to help.”

“Bailey, your relationship to our Town Forefather is how you Cr i are and won your seat on this council, but I fear that your youth is impeding your judgment. Michael Talbot –
IF he was truly a person and not a character in your forefather’s memoirs – would have passed years ago. And I have read all of the manuscripts. Michael Talbot would have been bigger.

“I get that a lot,” I said as an aside to Azile.

“Michael?” Bailey asked.

“Dammit, Bailey, if you were anyone else except who you are, my dog and I would now be heading home. Alright folks of this esteemed council (dripping in sarcasm, that was) how could I conceivably convince you that BT was indeed my best friend.” More scoffing on their part. “We traded off saving each other’s lives so many times I can’t even be sure who did it more, I mean most likely it was me but I’m not positive.”