Moonlight Medicine: Inoculation (27 page)

“Whelps! Whatever you are thinking, whatever you’ve been told, listen to me now! Your freedom lies just a half mile inside of these trees. There your enemy waits to enslave you! Defeat them and you will…go…free!”

Eerie silence rang out after Nicolas’s speech. Though many of the strays strained at their bonds in response, just the memory of the shock collars prevented them from making any noise. Then one of the strays screamed as the change hit him. Twitching, he fell to the ground, taking the two strays chained next to him down as well. Smelling the sour reek of anxiety suddenly rolling off the strays, Nicolas watched dispassionately as several more of the strays succumbed to the change. Finally, he raised his hand and gave the signal for the thirty other assembled Vulke, his lieutenants, to unchain the strays.

His lieutenants responded immediately, though Nicolas could see trepidation in their eyes. Though they worked in pairs, one with keys and one with a cattle prod, this was still the most dangerous moment of the whole procedure as they would have to get close enough to the strays that one might lash out. Staying well back from the fray, Nicolas felt his pulse quickening as his desire to yield to the transformation became more insistent. Surveying his lieutenants’ progress, he willed his body to remain human. Then he spotted one of the strays, who had been unchained but was not in the thralls of the change yet, reach up with shaking hands and remove his hood. He was an older man, perhaps in his early sixties, but still in excellent physical condition despite his greying hair and near month of captivity. His eyes locked onto the Vulke who had released him a few moments ago and he tensed as if to attack, but then spotted the other Vulke with the cattle prod and paused.

The stray then caught sight of Nicolas standing before them, apparently unarmed. Daring him to make his move, Nicolas simply glared at him. With murder in his eyes, the elder stray shot forward and spun out of reach of the nearest cattle prod as he came at Nicolas. Nicolas’s body screamed for the change in the face of the oncoming stray, urging him that he could rip the man limb from torso when he was in Wolfkin form, and Nicolas nearly gave in, but gritted his teeth in resistance knowing that, in the few seconds it would take for him to transform, the stray could be on him and tearing out his eyes. A lieutenant lapping at his heels, the stray was fifteen feet away, then ten, then five. Nicolas tightened his muscles in anticipation, but then the stray’s whole body went rigid. He shrieked and tumbled to the ground where he writhed and flailed in the throes of the transformation.

Nicolas snorted and ordered his lieutenant back to help with the rest of the pack. He liked that old stray. Maybe he’d survive this battle and live to be a Vulke. As the seconds tumbled past, the lieutenants continued to unchain the strays, but Nicolas could see the strain in their muscles. It wouldn’t be long before they too would have to succumb.

“Faster!” he screamed, his voice raw from his own efforts to delay turning.

Then, the lieutenant with the cattle prod dropped to his knees, and Nicolas was forced to rush forward to take his place. Nearly three-fourths of the strays were unchained now, and many were fully transformed. Though a few were fighting among themselves or attacking other still changing strays, Nicolas’s last words to them must have had at least some effect, because most of those that were now in Wolfkin form were loping into the forest towards the Wahya lines. Wielding the cattle prod recently dropped by his lieutenant, Nicolas broke up several of the fights, but these strays ignored his verbal orders to follow their fellow strays in to the woods. As another two lieutenants were lost to the change, Nicolas cursed internally and screamed again at the remaining lieutenants.

“Hurry you mongrels!”

Nicolas was consumed with the pain of holding back the change. His bloodshot eyes streamed hot tears, his chest felt like it was bound by iron bands, and pressure filled his head such that he thought it might burst. Back when he was still a new whelp, part of his special training directly under Taras had dealt with holding back the change, but he had never repressed it for so long under such stress on the night of the full moon. Finally, the last stray’s chains were unlocked and Nicolas gave in to the transformation. After the pain of keeping it in check, the pain of the actual change almost felt pleasurable. Immediately the desire to lead the strays overwhelmed him, and though he knew that he was supposed to stay back and let the strays thin out the enemy ranks, Nicolas couldn’t help himself. His instinct took over and he forced his way to the front of the pack, barking, snarling, and tearing the remaining brawling strays apart in his path.

He glanced back to make sure his Vulke lieutenants were pushing the strays forwards but, as Nicolas burst through the ranks in front of the strays and let out a demanding howl, the last strays finally began to advance as one. Rushing into the woods, Nicolas couldn’t yet smell the enemy, but his scouts told him that they were out there, just a half a mile away. In his ears, Nicolas heard Taras’s voice chastising him, calling him a fool for putting himself at risk and not using the strays as a shield, but that was not what his instincts told him to do. Instinct told him to be at the head of this pack, to show them how to fight, to show them he was strong and fit, and to show them that he deserved to lead them and that they should obey him.

Nicolas didn’t have to look behind him to know that the strays were following him. He could hear their progress through the brush, feel the heat of seventy-seven bodies, and smell the musky scent of fur and the pungent odor of sweat. Inside his own body, the rage churned like magma on the brink of an eruption. Energy flowed through him, making each stride seem effortless. As he rocketed through the forest, the branches whipping past his face and brambles scratching his legs were beneath his notice. Through the tunnel of his narrowed vision Nicolas swore that he could see the heat of the oncoming Wahya, and it made his hackles rise. He emitted another howling war cry and increased his pace, though he thought that he’d already been sprinting at the boundary of his ability.

In his wildness, Nicolas nearly attacked one of his own strays, but at the last moment he caught a whiff of the other Wolfkin’s slightly tainted Vulke scent. Frustrated that it was not an enemy, Nicolas snarled and charged ahead of the stray. He bounded down a ravine then up the other side, and as he crested the lip of the depression, finally he spotted an enemy Wolfkin. The reek of Wahya flooded Nicolas’s nostrils and the rage spiked his vision with red. The Wahya was running straight at Nicolas, and he obliged the other Wolfkin by neither slowing nor altering his course. Just before they collided, Nicolas noticed something that filled him with a wicked joy. This was going to be an easy kill. The other Wolfkin had a slight limp.

44

Evelyn barely had time to register what she’d done when the hairs on the back of her neck bristled and her nostrils were filled with the scent of smoke. She looked up from the body of the stray and saw an orange glow emanating from the forest all around her.
Fire!
Evelyn’s animal heart hammered in fear. She, Kim, and the other Delta Team members had won the fight with the four strays, though one of John’s eyes was closed and bloody and the other woman was looking haggard. Their rescuers were alert to the danger surrounding them, sniffing the air and whining, but Kim, still distracted by the barely moving black and white stray, gave no indication that she was aware of the fire. Howling to catch Kim’s attention, Evelyn tried to suppress the mindless panic rising within her. Her howl was soon joined by John and his partner, and became an alarm, a warning to all within earshot.

Kim paused, her ears and nose twitching, spotted Evelyn, then eyes widening, finally noticed the fire around them. She let out a series of high-pitched bark-whines and her muscles tensed, ready to bolt. Evelyn barked sharply and motioned Kim to her side almost at the same moment the other two friendly Wolfkin fled. Though John gave Evelyn a backwards glance with his one good eye as he ran, anger still washed over Evelyn as she watched them leave her and disappear into the brush.
How can they abandon Kim and me?
But then, as Evelyn took in another deep breath and her own panic surged again with the scent of the smoke, she understood. As soon as Kim was within a few paces, Evelyn’s resolve cracked and she turned and ran as well. Though she tried to think logically and gauge where the fire was least thick, her legs pumped and took her in a direction of their own accord. The smoke was thicker now and the chaos and cacophony of battle was amplified by the crackling of the fire and frightened howls from all around. Evelyn had no idea whether she was running back toward the Wahya’s camp or straight into the Vulke forces, and could scarcely tell shadowy friend from foe now that her senses were overrun by the fire.

The blaze was raging all around and every time Evelyn thought that she and Kim had found an escape route, they came upon another wall of flames and had to alter their course.
Had they never intended to fight? Just draw the Wahya and Amaruq into a trap?
Evelyn had no energy to commit to these thoughts as she sprinted on, but despair seeped into her heart. She didn’t see David or Clem or Roberto or any other known friendly Wolfkin as they ran.
Had the fire started behind them on the Wahya side or in front from the Vulke side?
Oh, no David! Clem! Please God, let them have already gotten clear of the fire.
Evelyn’s pace slowed with these thoughts and she was blind-sided by a Wolfkin—with singed and smoking tan fur—leaping out of the smog. In the brief instant that he was in view before he slammed into her, Evelyn could somehow sense that this was another stray.

She tried to brace for the impact, but the attack happened so quickly that she was bowled over and her fall backwards also knocked Kim, who was following close behind, off her feet. Evelyn crashed to the ground and just managed to wedge an arm in between the maddened Wolfkin’s teeth and her neck in time to save herself a quick and bloody end. They were only a few feet from the nearest flames, but the stray took no notice of the peril as he pressed his muzzle closer to Evelyn’s face. Snarling, his bloody saliva dripped onto her snout as she whipped her head back and forth and flailed her legs to try to knock the stray off of her. As a hot wind blew the fire ever closer, Evelyn’s strength began to ebb from the lack of oxygen. The flames transformed before her eyes, at first dancing and then swirling. She was so hot and the fire was too close.

Suddenly the heat and flames receded as if sucked away by a vortex, and Evelyn was able to take in a deep smoky breath. The world rushed back into her consciousness and Evelyn heard growling and snarling close by. She pushed herself up and her eyes fixed on Kim latched onto the tan stray’s back, her teeth sunk into his shoulder as he howled and spun. Their wild twirling was taking them into the worst part of the fire, but neither Kim nor the other Wolfkin seemed to realize that they were seconds from plunging into the flames.

Though her limbs felt weighted in layers of thick mud, and the world was still whirling slowly, Evelyn forced herself onto her feet and stumbled towards the pair. Closing in on them, she realized that she couldn’t knock them down or she would push them right into the blaze. Trying to clear her thoughts and judge the timing, she grabbed onto the stray’s arm and pulled with all her strength to divert their course. The countermeasure swept Kim and the stray towards Evelyn and upset the stray’s balance, causing them to crash into Evelyn as they tumbled to the ground. Evelyn was sent sprawling, but rolled and scrambled to get up on her hands and knees so she could be ready to fight the stray if he turned his attentions back on her. Kim was sprawled out, her eyes staring blankly into the night and her limbs slowly churning the dead leaves littering the forest floor. The stray was just a few feet from her, but he wasn’t moving and blood was rapidly pooling under him as it spurted from a gaping wound where his neck met his shoulder.

The tension in Evelyn’s coiled muscles released slightly and she crawled over to Kim and yipped at her. Kim’s head tilted in Evelyn’s direction, but her eyes remained unfocused, and the doctor in Evelyn’s brain screamed closed-head injury. Thrusting an arm under Kim’s arm, Evelyn forced her to sit up. Kim wasn’t exactly dead weight, but she wasn’t aiding Evelyn’s efforts either. Shifting her weight to get better leverage, Evelyn stood, growling with the effort, and dragged Kim to her feet. Evelyn barked sharply at Kim to try to get her to focus, and then headed away from the encroaching fire again. At first, lurching forward, Kim nearly toppled them both, but Evelyn kept her feet and then they were moving slowly but steadily forward.

Evelyn scanned the smoky woods hoping to spot a friendly Wolfkin, and dreading another attack. Her eyes wept as the acrid smoke seared her nostrils and burned in her lungs. The other injuries of battle were muted by this more immediate pain, which Evelyn supposed was a good thing. She wanted to call out for help, but Evelyn was afraid of using so much breath and then choking on the smoke when no one might hear her. She tried to just concentrate on keeping going, but when she glanced back at the inferno behind her, a pang of hopelessness stabbed her heart. They were never going to outrun the fire like this, but even though her instincts were screaming at her to do so, Evelyn refused to even consider leaving Kim behind and running.
After all, who knows if there’s anything or anyone left to run to?

45

His muzzle dripping with blood, Nicolas threw off the body of the dead Wahya and rose to his feet. Having been overtaken by most of the strays while fighting the enemy Wolfkin, Nicolas was alone, listening to distant sounds of the battle. Now that the initial burst of adrenaline had worn off and the metallic taste of blood was turning sour in his mouth, Nicolas felt less of an urgency to join the strays in battle. Wanting to once again feel the reckless drive of bloodlust, he looked back down at the dispatched Wolfkin crumpled at his feet, but he felt nothing. He growled low in frustration. The Vulke victory here on Wahya soil was so close and he could play a glorious part, was destined to play a glorious part, but suddenly he felt empty. Attempting to clear his thoughts he shook his head roughly and began jogging towards the battle.