by John O'Brien
My heart sinks, thinking that this long endeavor won’t be reaching a conclusion anytime soon and we’ll have to haul ass back to the cave system to pick up a trail. Lynn and the Spooky have been overhead as much as they can be and haven’t found any indication of people migrating.
As I pan through the village, the cabins still held in the deep gloom of shadow, I catch sight of someone. Gazing intently, I see Cletus sitting on the raised wall of the central well. He appears to be waiting for something. Looking at him, I can’t help but remember the gnashing teeth inches away from my face in the heart of the cave system.
I focus on the village cabins more intently, looking for a flash of movement beyond the windows, for the quick peek out of a door before it closes. There’s nothing that would indicate curious people in the buildings or anyone waiting to spring a trap.
I relay the information to the rest of the team and to Lynn. “We’re moving forward. Gonzalez, McCafferty, cover the village near the edge. The rest keep watch on the woods.”
“What are you going to do?” Lynn asks.
“I believe Cletus is looking for a chat, so I’m thinking that I’ll oblige him,” I answer.
“You know it could be a trap, right?” Lynn says.
“I’m aware. If that happens, burn the place to the ground and salt it.”
“Weren’t we going to do that anyway?” Greg chimes in.
“Just…just…never mind. Let’s move out.”
Using the trees as cover, we approach closer to the village, the team taking positions to cover both the hamlet and the woods. Rising, I step from behind a tree, cradle my carbine, and start forward into plain view.
I search the cabins as I pass them, but the windows only reflect the light outside; there’s only darkness beyond the glass panes. All of the doors are sealed shut without a single creak betraying someone inside. Cletus watches my approach, his relaxed demeanor unchanging. But his expression doesn’t match the tranquility of his body, his eyes hard and searching. I draw near and halt, wondering what this meeting is about. It’s pretty obvious at this point that he wants something, but I can’t imagine what. Well, I have some ideas, ranging from a truce to a demand of why we’re interfering with their lives.
“You have the stink of Strigoi about you, yet you are not one of them. How can that be?” Cletus says without preamble.
“You know of the Strigoi?” I respond.
“How could we not? Our ancestors fought them to near annihilation eons ago. So how is it that you have their stink?”
“What can I say? We drank the Kool-Aid.”
“My instinct is to kill you here and now,” Cletus states.
“A mutual feeling. Now, I don’t believe you’re resting after a nature hike or left behind some family heirloom, so why are you here waiting? And where are the others?”
“No, I am here because I knew you would be back. As for the others, they are in hiding.”
“Look, Cletus, let’s not beat around any bushes here. We know what you are and you know that we know. Other than our short talk, we’ve met on three separate occasions. You didn’t seem overly eager for conversation then. Why now?” I inquire.
“The world has moved on and we cannot survive as we once could,” Cletus answers.
“So, the only reason we’re talking here is because you can’t kill us anymore. You probably should have thought of that before killing other humans.”
“Perhaps. We are all part of the food chain, and we are both predators, you and I. We killed partially to preserve our territorial concerns and partly out of fear of our homes being discovered. But, I’m here to save my people. Therefore, I have a proposal.”
“We could just hunt you down and finish you off,” I say.
“Have you found that easy to do so far? We are not easy to find and you are not easy to kill. It could go either way, could it not?”
“Fair enough. So, I’m listening.”
“Perhaps your friends should come out first. I promise no harm will come to them, unless they trip and fall on their own.”
“I’m here alone,” I reply.
“Come now. I can smell them,” Cletus counters.
“Ah, the Strigoi.”
“Yes, that’s how we found you each time. You have to be close when we’re in this form, but you stand out like a beacon when we run as wolves.”
I call the others up and set them in a perimeter, watching the buildings. It’s not the most comfortable position, but neither is talking to a werewolf. It’s almost too bad I have NDAs, because these stories would make a hell of a book when I retire.
“Okay, we’re here. Say what you’re going to,” I say.
“We have lived here for as long as any one of us can remember. We have no remembrance of our former lives other than the fact that we had them. We’ve been hunted for too long now, by human and Strigoi. We’re tired and on the verge of disappearing. We just want to live in peace,” Cletus states.
“Oh, come on. I don’t want to hear some sob story about being a victim, or that we’re killing what we don’t understand. You were the ones who killed humans; you had to know that would draw attention. If you could control what you do in your other form and wanted to live in secrecy, then you shouldn’t have killed those people.”
“All true, but the only options left to us were bad ones. You humans started encroaching more and more, so our only thought was to strike fear in those who would enter the area. If we were discovered, then we’d have no option but to relocate. However, those places have narrowed so much that we are left with few choices. Our only real desire is to hunt and live in peace.”
“So, if I’m hearing this correctly, you want a truce. We don’t kill you and your people, and you leave humans alone. Do I have that right?” I ask.
Cletus nods.
“Are you even capable of doing what you suggest in your wolf form? Can you control those instincts?”
“The instincts and lust of the hunt are strong when in wolf form,” Cletus responds.
“Then how can you promise to uphold what you’re offering?”
“We live in a world of preservation. That strength will keep us alive and therefore become paramount in our lives. I’ll be able to control it based on that alone, and the others will follow.”
“And if you die?”
“Then whoever holds my position next will remember. We have a collective consciousness that is transferred,” Cletus answers. “If we continue on our current path and you hunt us, we will continue to fight back.”
“So, your proposal is that we stop hunting you and you stop killing people?”
“Yes.”
“And you’d remain in this location? In your village?”
“Yes.”
“That’s an intriguing idea. Hold that thought, I need to talk to someone.”
Walking a little ways down, I radio Lynn. “Did you hear all of that?”
“It’s an interesting idea. I’ll have to confer with Cyrus. Standby,” Lynn responds.
Time ticks by while I wait for Lynn, but she comes back on air after about thirty minutes.
“Jack, there’s a few points Cyrus made, but he’s not opposed to the idea.”
Lynn goes on to mention various concerns that would have to be part of a deal. It seems really weird negotiating with a werewolf, but it also seems wrong just to bomb the shit out of them after our talk, even if we’ve barely escaped with our lives on three occasions.
“I have a few more questions and points for you to consider,” I say after returning. “First off, you’d have to all be amenable to being tagged with trackers. That includes any new…members. You will notify us through means yet to be negotiated. If we find out that some are left out of the process, then the deal’s off and the hunt will begin anew.”
Cletus hesitates. I can see the wheels of his mind burning as they spin. That will put them at a future disadvantage if things go awry. After all, they seem to live longer than we do, and
deals seldom last past a generation. I can offer no assurances otherwise except to tell him that we’re an organization that has been around for a long time, longer than he’s been alive. After a moment, he nods his agreement.
“Very well. You’d also have to agree to being relocated should these lands become encroached upon. Our deal would be to move you to other lands that would be livable and support hunting.”
Again, the man nods.
“And you agree not to hunt ranch lands. You seem to already have a boundary marked, and you can’t hunt outside of it. You’d be allowed to go to towns in human form as you currently do, but no tracker can leave the boundary from full to new moon.”
“That’s agreeable,” Cletus replies.
“And lastly, if I or anyone else comes calling for help or information, you provide that without fail.”
“What kind of help or information?”
“Whatever we require. The idea is that you will provide information about your kind in exchange for this protection.”
“So you can hunt us down in the future?”
“No. It’s so that we can better understand your kind, just as we did with the Strigoi.”
Cletus winces at the name of their enemy.
“I’m sorry, but that’s the deal.”
“I don’t see that I have much choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“Fine. We’ll honor our end as long as you honor yours,” Cletus states.
“Lynn, can we actually provide for a sanctuary like we’re promising?” I radio.
“We’ll establish a restricted area. It won’t be easy, but it can be done,” she replies.
“Looks like we have a deal, in general terms. We’ll work out the specifics later. I am curious about one thing, though. You mentioned that your village, pack, or whatever you call them is disappearing, yet I noticed one of the women was pregnant. Does that mean you breed? And if so, how are you becoming extinct?”
“A live birth is rare. That’s why we’ve had to resort to occasionally turning others. With this deal, it will make it more difficult to maintain our numbers. So, our hope is to live out the rest of our lives in peace and hunt,” Cletus responds.
“Are there others like you that you know of?”
Cletus again hesitates, but then nods after a long moment of contemplation.
“Are you able to communicate with them?”
“I can hear and talk with my counterparts, after a fashion, when in our transformed state.”
“Will you remember this conversation and our deal when in that form?”
Cletus nods.
“Tell them what transpired here and offer them the same conditions.” To Lynn, I ask, “We can do that for the others, right?”
“I don’t see why not, but each will depend on certain variables.”
“I will talk with them and see what they say,” Cletus replies.
“If your village is so hard-pressed, why don’t you merge packs?”
“Because no two alphas can be in one pack,” Cletus answers.
“I see. Well, call your people in. There will be others arriving in a few hours to administer the tags. We’ll be in touch with regards to verifying the sanctuary here.”
For a final time, we stare into each other’s eyes, each seeking any form of dishonesty in the other. I remember every time we met as enemies on the field of battle, and now we’re extending hands to be shaken.
We wait for several hours for our teams to arrive. Villagers slowly drift in from the surrounding woods, the hate they once held replaced with cautious glances. I notice a few are limping while others have slowly healing wounds. It’s difficult to see the people drifting between the cabins as the same wolves we fought over these long months. Gathered together, they begin unloading items from the carts back into the cabins. All the while, we stay near the well as Cletus walks among his people. It’s so fucking surreal to watch, the memories of what we went through being attributed to men and women dressed as though they’re on the frontier. And here we are, making deals with werewolves. I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.
Gonzalez moves closer to me at the well, her eyes roving uneasily over the villagers.
“We definitely lead strange and interesting lives,” she says.
# # #
About the Author
John O'Brien is a former Air Force fighter instructor pilot who transitioned to Special Operations for the latter part of his career gathering his campaign ribbon for Desert Storm. Immediately following his military service, John became a firefighter/EMT with a local department. Along with becoming a firefighter, he fell into the Information Technology industry in corporate management. Currently, John is writing full-time.
As a former marathon runner, John lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and can now be found kayaking out in the waters of Puget Sound, mountain biking in the Capital Forest, hiking in the Olympic Peninsula, or pedaling his road bike along the many scenic roads.
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