Wolfen

by Alianne Donnelly

  Arik had managed to take down six of them, but ten more bore down on them much too fast. With the last volley from the semi-automatic, he took down three more, then had to drop the weapon and pick up another one.

  Desiree fired to cover him, but she wasn’t a trained marksman. She couldn’t even tell whether she’d hit anything, and they moved so damned fast!

  Off to the side, a gangly female launched so high into the air, Desiree lost sight of her until she dropped down on top of the jeep, tearing into Arik before he knew she was there. He screamed, and the sound abruptly cut off as she took him down.

  Desiree stumbled away from the jeep, kept her balance for a hop or two, before she lurched forward into tall grass. She cringed, waiting for claws to rip into her, but they didn’t. Daring a glance, she saw they weren’t coming after her at all, weren’t even looking at her. The converts descended on the female and ripped into each other to get at her meal. The leader, a muscle-bound male with skin the color of charcoal, snarled and tossed them aside one by one like disobedient children.

  Desiree froze. No one had ever gotten this close to a feeding horde, and lived. Not to her knowledge, anyway. She lay there, afraid to blink, as the scene played out mere feet from her.

  When the female refused to give up her prey, the leader struck out and ripped into her skull. She squealed and slunk away. He was taller than Desiree remembered, neck thick like a tree, long claws curled into talons. His eyes were a sickly green, his fangs coated pink with blood. His face was scarred, and he had one ear missing, claw marks crisscrossing all over his torso. A creature who’d earned his rank fighting off challengers.

  He hoisted Arik’s body high over his head, roaring his victory to the screeching chorus of the others. Desiree slapped a hand over her mouth. Arik was still alive—fingers twitching, mouth open to take a breath, even as blood bubbled from his neck where the female had torn it out.

  The gun wavered in her hand. She wanted to do something, but what? Put him out of his misery? A single shot would signal to the converts there was more meat to go around.

  Arik’s head lolled back, then to the side. He blinked slowly, caught sight of her, and his mouth moved, forming words: “Help…me.”

  Then, with a twitch of his massive arms, the convert leader rent Arik in two, lifting his face to the shower of blood and guts that rained down. One half fell to the waiting group, the other dropped to his feet. None of the others dared touch it. Those regenerated from their injuries and picking themselves up didn’t even look his way, joining the feast on the ground instead.

  While they tore into their meal, the leader dug out Arik’s heart. The defeated female crawled closer, sniffing at his feet, and he growled, baring his fangs. She flinched, but tilted her head, cawing as if to appease him. The leader gave her the organ, and she snatched it up like a greedy squirrel, turning her back to protect it while she ate.

  They were much too close. If the female looked up, she’d spot Desiree in an instant. But she was so preoccupied with her meal, she didn’t even notice the leader coming up behind her. Claws to her hips, he picked her up and held her, flailing, in the air, before he slammed her face-down to the ground and mounted her. She screamed until he bit the back of her neck, and then she went quiet and limp, helpless against his brutal assault.

  Desiree squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head away, too afraid to move. Her finger tightened on the gun’s trigger. She had no idea how many bullets she had left, prayed she could turn at least one on herself.

  When he’d finished, the convert leader shook his head hard and flung himself away, rolling around like a dog. He sneezed and huffed, sniffed along the dirt, then froze, body tense. A low growl rose in his throat as he slowly turned his head and looked straight at Desiree. His pupils narrowed to pinpoints as he snarled, priming for an attack.

  Desiree lifted the gun and fired, but he was faster, slapping it back down. The bullet tore through his lung instead of his head, and though he wheezed, bleeding profusely, he was in no way weakened or deterred.

  Displaying a terrifying level of control and higher thought, the convert leader squeezed Desiree’s wrist until she released the gun, then crushed the weapon in his fist, all while staring at her.

  Desiree moaned and scrambled backward, while he jerked forward, making her flinch. Then he crept a step closer, sniffing for scents. No doubt he could smell the blood of her injury, the stench of infection, and realize she was weakened beyond missing a limb. It made him salivate, and his snarl turned upward at the corners, almost like a smile meant just for her.

  She crawled faster, heart in her throat, elbows buckling beneath her.

  There was a screech from one of the others, and the leader barked in answer, before he charged at Desiree. She cried out, shielding her head and neck, when a gunshot rent the air.

  The convert leader whined, his trajectory veering off to land him in a heap at Desiree’s side, chest turned to minced meat with buckshot. She didn’t wait for him to get back up. Dragging herself away, she kept a wary eye on him as Aiden fired three more shots at a full run.

  Desiree gaped as three converts dropped, not a single shot wasted.

  When he’d run out of bullets, Aiden tossed the gun, pulled his machete, and charged the horde, cutting them down without mercy. He aimed straight for their necks, severing heads clean off to make sure converts stayed down, and he didn’t stop until the lot of them were slaughtered.

  It happened so fast, Desiree forgot to breathe. When the last of them fell, Aiden surveyed the carnage at his feet, and there was no victory in his stance, no glorious bellow loosed to the heavens, only a slight loosening of the tense set of his shoulders. The battle was won, but the war was far from over.

  He cut the paralyzed female down on his way to Desiree. The leader still lay unmoving next to her, but Aiden wasn’t about to take any chances and raised the blade to finish him off.

  But just as it came down, the convert rolled into Aiden, knocking him to the ground.

  Desiree screamed his name.

  The convert roared, and they fell on each other like rabid dogs. The growls, the wet snarls, the crunch of breaking bones and flesh tearing beneath claws—it was all too much. Desiree couldn’t take it. As strong as Aiden was, the convert was bigger, heavier, and his bulk didn’t hinder his speed in the least.

  They broke apart, crouched low, facing off. Even fully turned, Aiden was no physical match for the convert. Still, he hunched his massive shoulders, and held his ground between the convert and Desiree. He was bleeding from several wounds and a dislocated elbow popped itself back into alignment.

  The convert jerked forward, the way he’d done with Desiree, trying to scare Aiden. But Aiden was no human. He launched forward, knocking the convert into the tall grass where she lost sight of them.

  “Move!” Casey screamed, drawing Desiree’s attention away from the furious brawl. The girl was running toward the jeep, waving her knife. “Move! Get away!”

  “Casey, stay back!”

  But she didn’t. She ran up, grabbed Desiree’s arm, trying to drag her toward the road. “Move—now!”

  The convert howled in pain, then a massive pile of charcoal gray barreled toward them. Desiree shrieked, turning to shield Casey, as he stopped a few feet away. He wailed as he got his bearings, then raised himself into a crouch. One eye was missing, that whole side of his face, shredded down to the bone.

  He shook himself off and snarled at Aiden, who stood tall and savage, machete clutched in his hand. Aiden returned the gesture and jerked his chin, calling the convert out. He got a livid howl in response, but instead of charging Aiden, the convert shot toward Desiree and Casey.

  Desiree snatched Casey down, falling over her to shield her. Before she squeezed her eyes shut, Desiree saw Aiden launch into the air. She heard the impact as they slammed together, hit the asphalt; and then the whistle of a blade slicing through air before it severed the convert’s head.

  Desiree peeked
out at the most horrifying creature she’d ever known lying in a heap on the ground, then raised her awed gaze to Aiden standing over him. He winced as his face cracked and changed back to its human shape, braced his hands on his knees when his body shrank again to normal size. “I leave you alone”—he gasped in a breath of air—“for five minutes!”

  44: Aiden

  Aiden’s knees buckled, and he sat down hard.

  “Aiden!” Casey cried, and lunged at him. She didn’t have a scratch on her. He sighed with relief.

  “Are you okay?” Desiree asked. She kept glancing at the convert as if she was afraid he’d get back up again. Not likely, without a head.

  Aiden set Casey aside, and rolled his shoulders and neck. His skin was healing already. The broken ribs and fractured skull would take a few minutes, but all in all, he was in pretty good shape, considering. “I’ll live,” he said. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  She frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “She saved me, Aiden,” Casey said.

  Aiden groaned and pushed to his feet. “Yeah? That’s good, baby girl. Why don’t you go help her up while I get our stuff?”

  Casey nodded and went.

  Aiden checked the back of the jeep, sparing a moment of silence for Arik’s remains. The vehicle was covered with shell casings. At least the guy had put up one hell of a fight before they took him down. A brave death. He deserved better than to be left out to rot, but Aiden didn’t have the time to bury him properly. More converts would come, and they needed to get as far away from here as possible.

  He took the guns that still had ammo, and shouldered the backpack.

  Desiree and Casey waited for him as he finished the final check. “Got your knife?” he asked Casey.

  She nodded, and showed it to him.

  “Good. And you?”

  “My gun got crushed,” Desiree said. She kept upright by holding onto Casey’s shoulder, and instead of complaining as he’d have expected, Casey held still with a steadying arm around her.

  Curiouser and curiouser. Aiden gave Desiree the smallest gun he could find. “Keep the safety on, unless I tell you otherwise. Don’t want you shooting anyone by accident.”

  He kept an eye out for more trouble as they followed the road toward the supplies he’d gathered.

  The town of Jackpot, Nevada could hardly be called that. It was essentially a grouping of hotels, casinos, and one lone gas station, surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. As usual, there was good news and bad news. The good news was the town seemed to be safe enough. Aiden hadn’t seen evidence of any convert hives; there probably hadn’t been enough people to feed them. More good news was that, according to the map he’d found, they were fairly close to a river tributary, so they wouldn’t be dying of thirst. Since it was called Salmon Falls Creek, he hoped there were still fish in it, because he hadn’t found anything remotely edible during his hasty scavenger hunt.

  And that was the bad news. No stores in town; only kitchens and pantries emptied of produce and lacking in food with any sort of shelf life. A couple of cans of indeterminate nature—could have been tuna, or dog food, or mechanical grease—and a few bottles of water were all Aiden had to show for his efforts. Precious little gas could be siphoned, but he’d found one tiny VW Bug that still looked drivable, and he’d planned to go back to check it out, when he heard the gunshots earlier.

  Aiden glanced sideways at Desiree as they came up on the town. All things considered, she was holding it together admirably; her cheeks were flushed, short hair plastered to her skull with sweat, but her mouth was set in a stubborn line and she kept on hopping.

  She’d thrown herself over Casey to protect her.

  Aiden never would have seen that coming.

  As if she felt his gaze, Desiree looked over at him, and Aiden quickly turned away. “How much farther?” she asked.

  “Not much. We’re almost there.”

  She sighed. “Good.”

  Casey dubiously surveyed the buildings ahead. “We’re not staying here, are we? It’s creepy.”

  Aiden chuckled. “No, we’re just picking up a few things, and then we’ll be moving on.”

  The VW Bug and the supplies were stashed at a small hotel-slash-casino-slash-saloon. Someone had driven the car up the porch stairs and crashed it into the building. A lucky break, because it’d sheltered the vehicle from the worst of the elements. The hood and the grille were dented, but Aiden hadn’t seen much damage to the actual engine. Good old German engineering. Flat tires, but Aiden could fix that. The battery was the bigger question mark.

  He took over for Casey by the stairs. “Go see if there are any room keys in there,” he said, pointing out the hotel’s check-in desk. Then he grabbed Desiree around the waist and lifted her, one-armed, to carry her up to the porch.

  “I could have made it on my own,” she complained.

  “Yeah, I bet you could’ve, but we don’t got all day for you to dick around. We need to get out of the wind—now.”

  She scowled when Aiden set her down on her foot.

  “And in case you were wondering—I know you weren’t but, you know, for future reference on how human interaction is supposed to work—the proper response to someone helping you out is ‘thank you.’”

  She was about to say something when Casey came back empty handed. “Didn’t see any keys,” she announced.

  “All right, guess we do this caveman style.”

  They went inside and Aiden kicked in a few of the doors, then let Casey decide which room she liked best.

  She picked a small, two-bed room with an even smaller bathroom. It was stale and smelled moldy, but the beds were pristine and extra pillows and blankets had been stashed in the closet.

  “Stay here,” Aiden said. “I’ll go see if I can find anything we can use around here.”

  “Do you need help?” Casey asked.

  “Sure do. I left some bottles and cans on the porch outside. Think you can bring them in here?”

  Casey nodded. “I’m on it.”

  Aiden waited for Desiree to protest, but she just sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the carpet, oblivious to the world at large. “Hey,” he said. “You still with us?”

  Desiree blinked up at him, and nodded listlessly.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I can tell something’s not right. How bad is it?”

  She sighed. “My wound got infected.”

  Aiden swore. “Let me see.”

  She brushed him off. “It can wait. You need to go find us something to eat. That’s the best medicine I can get right now.”

  Aiden didn’t like this. He still needed her to keep Casey safe until they reached the den. Once Casey had come back with the bottles, he opened one for Desiree. “Drink,” he ordered.

  She gulped down half of the bottle before she came up for air.

  Aiden pushed it right back to her mouth. “All of it. You too, Casey.”

  “Already had one,” she replied, wiping her brow.

  “Good. I want you to keep an eye on her until I get back. Can you do that?”

  Casey nodded. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t wander.”

  “That’s my girl.” Aiden attempted a smile, then stared Desiree down. “Stay in bed and don’t move. You hear trouble, you fire that gun to let me know. Got it?”

  “Fine, fine.” She waved him off. No arguing, no scathing retorts…? Oh, yeah, this was bad.

  Aiden looted the hotel first. A couple of rooms had been occupied when people bugged out, and he took some suitcases with clothes in them to their room to let Casey sort through it all. The casino was useless to his purposes, but the saloon still had a full stock of alcohol, lighters, and sharp paring knives. He brought all of those back, before heading out a third time to widen his search.

  Jackpot was a ghost town. Not a disaster zone like some others he’d been through, just…emptied, as if t
he residents had all gone on a day trip one morning and never came back. No garbage in the streets, no broken windows, no crashed cars—except the Beetle—and no signs of violence whatsoever. Casey was right. It was creepy as hell. Aiden imagined eyes watching him from every window; people hiding with guns behind closed doors, waiting for the threat to pass. It made him edgy.

  He made a straight trajectory toward the one place he hadn’t checked yet.

  In terms of medical facilities, the best Jackpot had to offer was a community health center a half-mile from the hotel. It was tiny, but well-stocked with basic medical supplies. Aiden stuffed a trash bin with everything that would fit, barely glancing at the labels. There were cabinets still filled with first aid supplies, bandages, ointments, syringes, and suture kits. He took all of that, too. Another one held medications in pill and liquid forms, including a box of asthma inhalers. Unlikely any of it was usable so long after the expiration date, but Desiree would be able to tell better. He piled it all into the bin, adding a small stack of paper patient robes, then grabbed a ten-gallon bottle of water he found stashed under the reception desk, and called it a day.

  Back at the hotel, he paused outside the room, listening to the womenfolk.

  “Is this a hair thing?” Casey asked.

  “I don’ think you wanna put that on your head,” Desiree slurred. Aiden rolled his eyes. He hadn’t brought back three bottles of whiskey for her to down them on her own.

  “Why, what’s it for?”

  Desiree sighed. “Jus’ put it down. You got plenty of stuff to play with already.”

  Aiden went in. Casey sat on the floor, sorting through clothes she’d piled into categories and wearing an oversized pink thong around her neck. Desiree sprawled over one of the beds, staring at the ceiling and cradling a whiskey bottle against her side. A good quarter of the amber liquid was already gone.

  “Five minutes, woman. I left for five minutes.”

  “And now you’re back!” Desiree giggled. “You missed the toast. We were sayin’ farewell to Arik. But we can do it again.” She took another swig, coughing.