All of that damage from rocks?
Five shadowy figures stepped into the light. Leon was confused at first. From the size of the men creeping out of the woods, it looked like a professional basketball team had just attacked his grandfather. Those guys easily towered a good foot or more above Leon’s five-foot-nine-inch stature.
Their bodies were entirely covered from head to foot in some sort of black tactical outfits, but as they moved directly into the light, he could just make out the disproportionate visage of large masks covering their faces. There was something off about them all. Their movement was too powerful, too swift. Their steps were quick yet disjointed.
Cautiously, they approached the remaining husk of the blind. Gus was under there somewhere. Maybe hurt bad. Maybe dying.
Leon still felt the tug of indecision, but something deep down pushed him to fight through the feeling. His racing thoughts bent to a backbone he didn't know he had, at least enough to knock him out of any momentary paralysis. It didn’t matter if he went down swinging, he had to do something, anything, and fast.
Fumbling around on the ground nearby, he found two hefty rocks.
Don’t think about it Leon, just chunk the rocks, and lose these creeps in the woods, for Gus.
The biggest of the five men had already begun rifling through the remnants of the deer blind when Leon came crashing down into the clearing. It enraged Leon to see the man casually disturbing debris that could be trapping his grandfather's injured body.
He opted to throw his largest rock at the big man. As his arm arched forward, the same tremor intensifying jolt of electricity he experienced two days previously struck. His arm involuntarily let loose the rock along its forward trajectory, but the pain intensified beyond his previous experiences. It dropped him to his knees.
The man originally in his sights managed to halfway turn his direction before the rock smacked him in the padded mask on his head. Still, the contact dropped him like…well, like a rock.
Before Leon had an opportunity to take satisfaction in this first small victory, the four remaining men surged his direction. Merle came leaping out of nowhere and ferociously tackled the one in the lead, fighting and growling furiously as he took him to the ground. Then, before any of the others could make it to him, the remnant of the fallen deer blind exploded upward.
If the wailing howls from earlier turned Leon’s blood cold, this terrifying new scream coming up out of the busted blind froze it right in his veins. The scream eked away into a menacing growl.
The men all stopped in their tracks and turned once more back toward the blind. Even Merle and his new chew toy stopped struggling and slid apart to assess the new threat.
There, standing amongst the rubble was a bloodied bull of a man with the fierce green eyes and silver sideburns of his grandfather. Yet somehow this Gus moved with the dexterity of a man at least thirty years younger than Leon’s grandfather, and he was angry. He pulled his old hunting blade from its sheath in one fluid motion and smiled a menacing smile as he extended his free hand, palm up, to give them the classic Bruce Lee motion to come get some.
Leon didn’t wait around to take the proper time to process what he saw. Instead, he tried preparing himself to use that surging sensation in his chest once more to his advantage. He sprinted for the closest man. As he closed in, he strained to find that electric pulse of power. It never came.
The hooded opponent Leon bull-rushed turned at the last moment. To Leon's shock, he delivered a perfectly timed backhand. The man's oversized paw of a hand nailed him in the jaw before his rock weighted fist came close to connecting. The motion seemed almost flippant for the towering thug, but the force was extreme. Leon careened back into some brush.
# # #
He couldn’t even recall a landing as moments later he gasped for air, flat on his back.
Wow…not my best moment.
His wind and vision were slow to return. When he finally did manage to sit up and regain his bearings, things had further digressed into some sort of comic book nightmare. Gus battled like a wild man, surrounded by the four remaining NBA ninjas in the fluorescent sheen of the spotlights.
His old hunting blade seemed to move like liquid lightning as he blocked and slashed imperceptibly fast at his assailants. Even so, those he fought were nearly as fast, and they made use of their advantage in numbers.
After watching for only a moment, it was obvious to Leon the attackers held back from fatally hurting Gus when clear openings presented themselves, opting rather to attempt to gradually subdue him with their vicious fists and kicks. Leon could see the tactic, though dangerous for them, was working. Gus was already favoring his right leg. As his grandfather sucked wind, one of his four attackers managed to nail his other leg with a well-timed kick. Leon could swear he heard a tendon pop. He knew his grandfather didn’t have much time left.
Merle stepped to his side and looked up at him, licking his chops while he waited for direction. It was now or never. Leon pointed to the closest of the four. “Sic ‘em boy!” Merle shot out like a cannon, attacking the man he had pointed out, from behind.
Leon moved forward through the shadows, searching for another suitable rock. He was still groping around in the dark when two new figures careened out into the light of the clearing from the northeast side of the Sendero.
He did a double take. It was Ethan and Reed!
Both men swiftly drew stubby, bladed hunting knives from sheaths at their sides and moved to join the fight, squaring off with two of the remaining three opponents.
He could see silver flashes of light flickering off their blades. Leon thought it a bit odd how they resembled the hunting blade Gus always carried. Ethan and Reed were cool customers. Too cool under the circumstances. Almost like they knew what they were wading into before they even stepped out into the clearing.
Nonetheless, Leon wasn’t going to sit there and look a gift horse in the mouth. The remaining attackers gave ground as the two men pressed forward.
He finally spotted a suitable rock and rushed forward to help the one creature he now knew needed his help most, Merle. His dog had ripped through the black tactical gear of the man he fought as the man screamed expletives in an inhuman voice, jerking Merle around like a ragdoll.
Then, from back behind them all, a deep, garbled bark of a voice bellowed, “Enough! Someone, stop that mutt.”
Before Leon knew what happened, the echo of another shot broke through the chaos around him. Merle lurched sideways and ran several yards into the woods before he fell. The fighting came to a standstill once more. Leon dropped the rock and raced to Merle’s side, oblivious to the danger still swirling around him. His best friend lay bleeding, whining softly in pain. Leon’s hands shook as he cradled his dog, intentionally ignoring the men nearby.
Vaguely, in the background, he could hear the struggle resume. That same voice growled again, “I don’t care if you have to bash his head, get Silberman under control!”
There was a whack, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. Leon turned back to his grandfather. To his horror, the old man was lying face down on the ground. One of his attackers stood, leering over him, the butt end of his grandfather’s hunting rifle clasped like a miniature toy gun in his oversized hand.
Ethan and Reed had their hands full with their oversized attackers, still dancing in and out around them. They hadn't been able to make it to Gus in time.
First Merle, now Gus. Leon was consumed in the agony of pain and loss. His vision went dark as he squeezed his eyes shut. Emotional agony gave way to full-on anger, which burned hot. So hot he could practically feel the heat coursing through his veins.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he both noticed and chose to embrace that same odd tremor of electricity from a few days before. It sputtered to life once more. This time though, it wasn’t a flash or a jolt. This time it shook his whole body and held him tight within its clutches.
The pain came searing him, consumi
ng his senses. His head felt torn apart internally. He let loose a scream, but never made a sound. The moment stretched on, lacerating nerves up and down his body. It lasted mere minutes that stretched forward like hours.
When the pain subsided and Leon opened his eyes, his view of the world was different. He could still feel a steady trickle of power in his veins, though the rushing torrent was gone.
He took a moment to gather himself. He must have rolled off the path, into the shadows near where a couple of the men first emerged from the brush. With the lights behind him, his vision pierced the darkness of the forest beyond.
He took a deep breath, and every smell imaginable exploded into overdrive. Though it was hard to identify all the smells coming at him at once, he was able to distinguish an evergreen mintiness in the pine bark of the trees he saw before him to a depth beyond any previous ability. He turned to see the remaining wreck of the deer blind and could sense the musty ick of moldy insulation in the scattered debris. Yet most disconcerting of all, he could almost taste a coppery ferrite aroma wafting off the cuts and nicks of those he saw standing in the clearing. It wasn’t appealing in any appetizing sort of way, but it was rich and vibrant.
He took a small step forward and new muscles rippled. Such power, such strength. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.
Then he remembered his grandfather, still face down in the dirt. His anger and rage rekindled. The towering figure he first nailed with the rock was just getting up on shaky feet. Leon took a few lunging steps forward and hammered the big bully once more in the head with a curled fist that may have just as well been made of granite. The big man crashed back down to the ground.
Then he turned, searching for the soon-to-be-dead-man with the gravelly voice who had given those sinister orders from the cover of darkness. He spotted movement from deeper in the nearby woods. He stepped around a pair of saplings and confronted another giant of a man.
This man’s mask was removed. The sight would have terrified any sane person. Only, Leon wasn't feeling very sane in the moment.
What stood there before him wasn’t a man at all. At least, not in the way he would ever describe a person. The creature’s face resembled that of a man, but with a strange blend of canine features and short, dark fur thrown into the mix. It held a woman by the throat. Her head was bent over, and hair covered her face. For some reason, the fact that he was physically restraining a woman didn’t bother Leon as much as it should have, she was just something standing between him and that creature he needed to take down.
Every B-Horror movie he had ever watched reminded him to turn and run, run for his life. But the newfound power coursing through his veins took his mind beyond where reason was willing to lead. Instead of hightailing it out of there when he had the chance, he popped his knuckles and flexed his fists, preparing to dole out the punishment they deserved.
The creature holding the woman spoke low and raspy through a mouth full of teeth, “Well, this is a surprise!” His rough bark of laughter never touched his eyes, “Jace, hit our friend on my ten with a little UV.”
The lights flipped his direction. They hit him dead center. Immediately, white light seared deep into his eyes, burrowing into his brain as if a brain freezes and an ice pick decided to have a party in his skull. The tremor’s pain returned with a vengeance and Leon lost himself to its cruel embrace once more.
# # #
Reality came crashing down on Leon as consciousness slowly returned. Pain blossomed across his body, but not the unbearable pain from earlier. This was more of a sore, aching pain.
Barely opening his eyes beyond a slit, he stared up at a dense green forest canopy. The smell of rain faintly persisted in the air. Tall pines swayed to a gentle breeze.
Then memory came back, full force. Gus! Merle! He shot up in an attempt to stand, only to be jerked to a stop by sturdy metal manacles around his ankles and wrists. The manacles were securely fastened to two thick chains connecting his hands and feet respectively, and a smaller chain connecting both sets with just enough extension to allow him to stand up straight. It was like he was some prisoner in a 1920s chain gang!
“Easy, Leon. Easy, son. You're gonna be okay.” It was Gus!
“Gus? That you? You okay? Where’s Merle?”
Leon could see enough from the spotlight's glow off to the left to make out most of his grandfather’s face. His head was bandaged but it was Gus’s face alright.
Gus shushed him, “Yeah, son, it’s me, I'm okay. Always told you I had a hard head, didn't I?" he tried and failed to lighten the mood, "You've been out a good half hour. And Merle…well, Merle’s been hurt something bad. I’m so sorry.”
Leon knew it was true, but he refused to believe the words his grandfather uttered. Tears wouldn’t come, just disbelief, and anger. Such feelings swirled through his mind and threatened to send him back down the rabbit hole of anguish he had only just escaped. His grandfather’s voice pulled him back from the ledge.
“Listen to me, son, I know you’re hurting, but we need to focus on the here and now. You understand?”
Leon’s mind raced. He had a thousand questions and rage was still threatening to consume him. Yet the steady twang of his grandfather’s voice gave him an anchor within the storm. He pulled what little of himself he could together and nodded, there would be time to worry about payback for Merle later.
Gus continued, “Good, I imagine that once your head catches up with your heart there’ll be a ton more questions rolling ‘round up there, but I’ll cut to the chase: I’ve been a fool son. This wasn’t supposed to be possible. These creatures weren’t supposed to have known about me or this place, but somehow they do.”
“But how—”
Gus stopped him, “Not now Leon. There’s so much I want to tell you boy, but time may be short. Whatever happens, keep your head, try not to give in to your emotions until we have a chance to talk again. Here, quickly now, take this.”
Leon stretched his hand out as far as the manacle allowed and accepted a silver chain necklace attached to a metal medallion, about four times the size of a dog tag.
“Hide it, quick!”
Not knowing what else to do, Leon shoved it down his shorts, into his boxer briefs.
Just then, a man, not a beast, walked across the clearing, through the light, to where they were sitting. He had a deep, rich authoritative voice that Leon could swear he knew.
“Mr. Silberman. Mr. Waldman. Excellent, you’re both up! Unfortunately, this whole op has digressed into one massive cluster. But believe it or not, we weren’t here to fight.”
“Sure could have fooled me,” Gus responded.
The man ignored the snark and continued, “We are simply here to use the Fayden Pine, or the Royal as you call it, and as the steward, Gus, you are going to show us the way.”
Gus went white as a sheet and was speechless for the first time in Leon's life.
The man stepped forward. “Do I make myself clear?”
He lifted the nozzle of a pistol and nudged it against Leon’s temple. Leon stiffened against the cold metal.
Gus dropped his eyes and nodded. The man dropped the barrel and resumed in an almost friendly tone, “You see there, that wasn’t so hard! Now, both of you stand up and shuffle on over with the remainder of your group.”
Leon and Gus managed to hobble across the clearing, their movements constrained by the heavy chains and manacles that weighed them down.
Leon immediately saw Ethan and Reed were trussed up the same way as he and Gus. Shana also sat in the mud, cross-legged, her arms behind her back. Her head was down, her face buried behind dark locks. Was she crying or shivering? She looked unharmed otherwise.
A finger tapped his shoulder. When he turned, a sandy-haired man with glasses looked him in the eye. He spoke in a clipped tone, “Your grandfather will be fine, and I’ve done all I can for your dog. He’s stable and alive. Took a nasty hit to one of his back legs…Time will tell.”
&n
bsp; “Can I see him?”
“I’ve got him sleeping in the back of that UTV over there. You’ll see him soon, I’m sure.”
The man wandered off into the shuffle of the busy men surrounding them.
Two large expressionless goons stood holding rifles nearby, guarding his group. They wore the same black combat gear as the creatures from earlier, their masks now removed. To Leon, they seemed much smaller up close.
A number of other men, in addition to the six he counted earlier, were assembled nearby, checking gear, and stowing it in duffel bags and rucksacks. The bags were slowly filled with militarized weaponry and gadgets of all shapes and sizes. Up close, he could see a dark gray embroidery on the sleeve of one of the men. It read NVG Security.
Squatting down next to Shana, he gave her a gentle nudge. He spoke softly, “Shana, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I’ve gotten you into here.”
She peeked up at him through a tangle of dark wet hair and gave him a sorrowful smile. “You don’t, but I do, kind of…”
Stunned, he responded, “W-what do you mean?”
“Don’t be upset, okay? Gus could have only told when you turned eighteen anyway. He never told you then because the chances were next to zero that this…I mean…there was no way anyone could have really known for sure until you turned twenty, even if they had suspected, which they didn't.”
Leon didn't understand. "What didn't he tell me, Shana?"
She seemed to ignore his question as she quirked her head to the side, appraising him with a different look than he’d ever seen her use before. “Looks like you may have been a bit older than everyone assumed when they found you all those years ago. Doesn’t matter now. You’re like us Leon, you’re…different.”
Ethan jumped in, “Different may be a bit of an understatement. What she means to say, Leon, is after what little we saw back there, it is safe to say you are a skin-changer.”
Leon would have thought them crazy, stark raving mad, had he not experienced the mind-splitting pain of some sort of change internally or witnessed a half dozen other things he couldn’t explain at the battle royal in the clearing. Even so, there was no good way to wrap his head entirely around that kind of statement. He fumbled for something to say to alleviate the tension building around him. “So, that means we're all like what? Werewolves?”
A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One Page 4