A tiny little girl carefully walked up to them carrying a tray that was almost bigger than she was. She offered the tray to the three Marines, and each took a small glass of tea. The Miami Heet kid reached over to take one, too, but with a surprising loud and sharp rebuke, the little girl turned away, not letting the boy take a glass.
“Woah! They be training them bitches early here,” Cam said in an exaggerated rapper drawl.
The little boy waited a moment, then put his fingers on either side of his mouth, pulled, and stuck out his tongue at the retreating girl’s back.
All three Marines broke out laughing at this universal reaction. The boy turned around, tongue still out, before he started laughing, too. He came up to them, casually putting one hand on Cam’s good leg, the other reaching out to touch his crutch.
“Looks like you’ve got a friend, there, Frank,” Aiden said.
“Oh, give it up already,” Cam said casually.
He shifted his weight and pulled a Hershey bar out of his pocket. It was a little smashed, but the boy’s eyes lit up.
“Shukran!” he said as he grabbed it before running back to the other kids to show them his treasure.
“Some of us came prepared,” he told the other two.
“Yeah, but now you’re going to have each kid here assaulting you. It’ll be worse than yesterday,” Gonzo said automatically.
There was a moment of silence.
“Sorry about that. Sometimes shit just flows from my mouth.”
“Hey, no biggie. We kicked some ass, right?” Cam said, ignoring the overriding shadow of those they’d lost.
The three sat there companionably, watching the kids play. The chaplain’s assistant had organized a soccer game, the kids against the Marines. A couple of the guys in the platoon were on the Marine team along with 10 or so others. The regulation number of players didn’t seem important. One of the Marines was a huge black guy, maybe 6’5” and 260 lbs. Aiden had thought he had to be a tracker, or maybe a truck mechanic when he’d first seen him at the Point. He had been surprised to learn that he was the mail clerk. The kids were picking on him, kicking the ball through his legs that he conveniently couldn’t close until after the ball was through. He groaned and cried out theatrically, much to the delight of the kids. There were probably 25 kids running around, scoring at will as Marines dove and fell onto heaps on the ground. At one point, Cpl George, the big mail clerk, switched sides, picking up a little girl and putting her on his shoulders. The other kids screamed their delight.
Aiden thought about joining in the fun, but he didn’t want to leave Cam, and it was just fine watching.
“You know, Aiden, . . .” Cam started.
“Yeah, I know,” Aiden interrupted. No big deal. You would have done the same.”
That was all that had to be said.
One of the older kids walked purposefully up to them and handed Aiden a note.
“Please read,” he said in obviously rehearsed English. He bowed, then hurried off.
“What’s that?” Cam asked.
“Fuck if I know. Let me see.”
Aiden pulled out the note and started to read:
The Council has a message for you. You will hear it. You can either come out and in back of the compound you are in or we will go in and drag you out. If we go in, the number of witnesses that will have to be removed will be on your head.
Aiden crumbled the note.
“Well?” Gonzo and Cam asked in unison.
“Ah, its nothing. Just some BS,” he said, putting the note in his pocket.
“No really, what was it?” Cam persisted.
“I said it’s nothing,” Aiden snapped.
“Shit, sorry for living,” Cam said with a snort.
“It’s not on you. Sorry about that,” Aiden said.
He looked around the compound. There were at least 30 Marines there. Thirty Marines were a pretty potent force, maybe enough to take on a couple of werewolves. There were also 60 or so orphanages and half a dozen Iraqi nationals, though. If it came to a fight, there was no way that the kids and Marines were going to come out unscathed. There really wasn’t a choice.
Ever since the Nevada desert, he’d been expecting this. He’d tried to prepare himself, but now that the time had come, he wasn’t ready to go. He couldn’t stay inside, though, hiding in back of the others. He had to go out there and meet his fate. He wasn’t meekly going to lie down like a lamb at the slaughter, but he couldn’t let anyone else get hurt.
“Hey, man, I gotta use the head,” he told the others, getting up and walking away.
“Tell us how it comes out!” Cam shouted at his retreating back.
They had staged their rifles inside the compound where they could easily be grabbed if there was a need. Aiden contemplated trying to get his, but there was a gear guard there, and he didn’t know how he would explain his need for his M4 just to use the head. Going out the main entrance would also be out. Several Marines and a couple of IPs[54] were guarding it during the visit, and he couldn’t explain his need to go out for a casual stroll. He looked around the building for another door out but didn’t see any. There were windows, but they had bars.
Aiden went into the head and walked up to one of the windows. He reached out and tested the strength of the bars that protected the opening. They gave a bit under his strain, but didn’t move from their position. Well, there was no help for it. He didn’t have his ILBE on, but he still had to take off his boots. Checking for prying eyes, he shifted, then pulled apart on the bars. They held fast for a moment before the concrete holding the bars in place gave way. In a flash, he shifted back in case the noise drew someone to see what had happened. No one seemed to have heard.
He put his boots back on, but didn’t lace them up. With a jump, he pulled himself up and through the window, tumbling out to the small alley outside. The wall of the orphanage compound and the walls of a number of private houses made a corridor, one side opening to the street in front, one opening to the rear. Aiden took a deep breath, turned to the right, and went to the back.
Exiting the alley, he came out on a raised dirt bank along one of the many canals that crisscrossed the city. Like most of them, this was a fetid, nasty body of water, full of trash and even dead animals. Marines that were exposed to the water had to be thoroughly disinfected afterwards. Twenty meters away from him, a tall, man stood, completely at ease. Surprisingly, he was alone.
“So you came,” he said in accented English. “At least enough of your patron’s honor seeped into you for that. Now, as you are certainly aware, it is time.”
With an inarticulate shout, Aiden pulled out his 9mm from the holster at his belt and charged, firing as he came.
Chapter 41
Hozan went back to his cot after the stranger left. He’d never even given his name, which was a breach of Tribal protocol. Not that Hozan cared. He turned to face the wall and lay there, not able to sleep.
Aiden was brash, true. But he was maturing, and without a decree coming from the Council for so long, Hozan had hoped that it was beyond that, that Aiden had been accepted. The shock that he was to be exterminated was a punch to the gut.
He wanted to do something to save him, but there was nothing he could do. If he managed to stop the stranger, then he would be joining Aiden as a feral from the Tribe’s standpoint, even if their minds were still whole. Both of them would be under a decree of death.
Others had survived such a decree before, a few for as long as two or three years, but to Hozan’s knowledge, none longer than that. Those that did last that long spent what little life they had left on the run, never able to slow down and catch their breath.
It just wasn’t right. Something had happened to Aiden in the US, something that scared him and made him more conservative. He hadn’t shifted in a long time. Something must have happened to make him shift here in Iraq, and Hozan was sure it was justified.
He sat up in his cot. He could not just sit there and leav
e Aiden to his fate. He had to try. Hozan was not the most technically advanced member of the Tribe, the internet being his most-used tool, but like all of them, he had his cell phone. He picked it up and made a call. From the information he received, he made another call, then yet one more. It took almost half an hour, but finally, he had the one he wanted on the phone.
“Yes?” the voice on the phone answered cautiously.
“Nemir Muhmood?” Hozan asked.
“Yes, this is he. Who is this?
Hozan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“This is Hozan Kamaran Mardin. I am in Ramadi, and I am the one who has been watching over Aiden Kaas,” he said, waiting for an acknowledgement.
There was a pause, then “And what can I do for you, Hozan Kamaran Mardin. I know who you are.”
That surprised Hozan, but then given the reported relationship between Aiden and Nemir, the fact that his son was Aiden’s patron, maybe it wasn’t so surprising.
“I want to tell you about Aiden, sir,” he said, his work on base making the “sir” sound natural even though that type of honorific was never used among Tribe members. “He may be unruly, even brash, but he is a good man. His heart is good, and he’s been trying to fit into his new life. If you only knew him, I know you could accept him.”
There was another pause before Nemir said, “I am glad to hear that, but why do you think you need to track me down to tell me that?”
“Why? Because there is no more time. Because of the Council’s decree.”
Silence came over the phone. Nemir Muhmood was evidently not a man who spoke without thinking first.
“Why is there no more time, and what decree?” he asked calmly.
“Why, that Aiden be exterminated. That decree,” Hozan asked, confused.
“I can assure you, Hozan Kamaran Mardin, that no such decree has been issued. Aiden Kaas has not been granted full Tribal membership, but he has not been relegated for extermination.”
“But, I just spoke with the executioner. I gave him Aiden’s location.”
“What executioner? What was his name?” Nemir asked, his voice suddenly steely and full of control.
“He never said. He told me Günter Wais sent him. He said Aiden had done something wrong and had to be killed.”
“Wais? Was this executioner tall, dark hair, a large straight nose? With a Ukrainian accent?”
“That sounds like him. Who is he?”
“That sounds like Wais’ pet attentäter, a very, very dangerous man. If he is after your Aiden, then there isn’t much hope,” Nemir said.
“But what about the decree?”
“There was no decree. We’ve been told nothing about Aiden, certainly nothing that called for a vote for elimination. Tell me, did Losenko, the attentäter, say the Council voted for it? Think back.”
Hozan thought for a moment. Generally, Tribe members never lied to each other. It was too easy to sense an out-and-out lie.
“No,” he said as he went over the conversation in his mind. “He said he had been sent by Günter Wais, and that Aiden had to die. He never actually said that the Council ordered it.”
“Hozan Kamaran Mardin, I thank you for your call. I will convene the Council where our estimable Mr. Wais will face the rest of us.”
“But what about Aiden? Can you call off Losenko?” he almost shouted into the phone.
“If Wais’ muscle knows where Aiden is, it’s too late. There’s nothing I can do now. I’m . . . I’m sorry, perhaps more than you can imagine.”
“I’m going to help him,” he shouted.
“Hozan, listen to me. You won’t have a chance. Losenko is a killer, pure and simple. Yes, I know about you, I know you were a Peshmerga, but you don’t know what you’re getting into. You will be killed, along with Aiden, and I will need your testimony to at least get revenge for him.”
“Revenge is overrated!” he yelled into the phone. He hit the disconnect just as the telltale signs of a shift reached him. It had started!
He burst through the door and down the stairs, almost knocking an old man down in the process. He ignored the shouts as he turned towards the south. He didn’t know exactly where the orphanage was, but his senses would guide him. If he could only get there in time!
Chapter 42
The huge man actually smiled as Aiden rushed him, never flinching as at least three of the rounds impacted his chest. Even a werewolf, especially in human form, should have been hurt by that.
Aiden hurled the empty pistol at him, kicking off his boots and shifting. If he could close with the man before the guy could shift, he had a chance. With Aiden, in his varg body about to crash into him, it only took a split second for the smiling man to shift into one of the biggest werewolves Aiden could have imagined. Aiden collided with the brick wall that was his killer, bouncing back and onto the ground. He looked up at the mountain standing over him.
Aiden had been told that most vargs could not form expressions that people would recognize, but this one could. He was grinning a sardonic smile. With a slight come-hither motion with one hand, he was inviting Aiden to stand up and fight.
He gave a quick glance to the wall around the orphanage, tempted to call out for help. He could hear the soccer game going on. No one from inside noticed his firing. On the other side of the canal, though, two different sets of wooden shutters closed on buildings. Were they just reacting to the gunshots, or had they seen two monsters squaring off for battle?
“Well?” the deep guttural voice prompted.
This thing was much bigger and stronger than him, so Aiden knew he had to rely on speed. He jumped up and darted in, a roundhouse blow aimed at his executioner’s head. The blow was easily blocked, and Aiden was flung once more to the ground. He was faster than Aiden, which didn’t seem possible given his size.
Aiden got up carefully, moving towards the wall. That put the canal at his enemy’s back. If he could only push the werewolf into the water, maybe he would have an advantage. Without warning, he charged.
With one huge backhand blow, the other varg caught him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Aiden gasped for air and probed his ribs along his left side. He could feel them grating.
More to gain a few moments than anything else, he asked, “Since we’re enjoying each other’s company so much, maybe introductions are in order? I’m Aiden. And what’s your name?”
The big varg stood there for a moment, then laughed. “You’ve got some balls there, I have to admit. Others call me Losenko, but for once, I think I’ll give out my real name. Your knowledge will be short lived, but I am called Oleksandr. I hope you appreciate the honor I am bestowing on you.”
“I’d like to drink to that honor someday,” he said, stalling for time.
“Unfortunately for you, that will not happen. I will grant you this, though. No more playing. I’ll make it quick. Come, stand up.”
Slowly, dragging it out, Aiden got to his feet. His ribs still hurt as his body tried feverishly to repair the damage. He stood in front of Oleksandr, wondering what to do next.
“Can you at least tell me why?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. I just do as I’m told,” he said.
“OK, just thought I’d ask” he said, pulling himself up straighter, meeting Oleksandr’s eyes.
The big varg gave a slight nod, then brought his arm back, tensing for the big roundhouse blow that would crush Aiden’s skull. There would be no withstanding the power of that slow swing.
Slow! Slow was relative. The swing would still be quick, but not as quick as a straight punch. Without thinking, Aiden shifted only his right shoulder. He had never tried something as specific as that before, but the practice he’d done to shift only one finger showed his brain the way. With his human shoulder joint combined with varg power everywhere else, he lashed out, ducking inside Oleksandr’s blow, his straight right connecting solidly on the varg’s huge snout. Teeth cut his hand as Oleksandr’s head jerked
back with the blow, but Aiden didn’t notice.
The big varg could not have expected it and had probably never been hit like that before. He actually took a step back while Aiden quickly brought his paw down, then came up with an uppercut that a varg shoulder could never do, connecting once again. This rocked Oleksandr, and he took one more step back, the beginning of a roar of anger swelling in his throat. That roar was cut off as his left foot met nothing but air. He tottered for a second, then with Aiden pushing, both tumbled off the dyke and into the murky water.
Aiden shifted once more as he went under, knowing he was better suited as a human in the water. He came back up, tempted to swim away, but knowing that would only delay the inevitable. Just in front of him, Oleksandr’s big head broke the surface, his huge paws thrashing the water in an attempt to swim. If he’d only shift back, he could easily swim to the side and find a place where he could climb out, but in his panic, he stayed in varg form.
Aiden wasn’t going to point this out. With two strokes, he was in back of the beast, snaking his arm around his neck. He put his feet into the small of Oleksandr’s back and pushed, arching back, putting every ounce of strength he had in him to strangle the big werewolf.
Oleksandr tried to reach back to dislodge him, but each time he did that, he started to sink, and panic overtook him. He thrashed in the water trying to stay afloat.
Aiden was straining for all he was worth, but it wasn’t having an effect. He just wasn’t strong enough to compress that muscle-bound neck. He tried a new tack by climbing up and trying to force Oleksandr underwater to drown him. What he hadn’t counted on was that position would put him within reach of the varg’s big paws. The left paw clamped down on his shoulder and started yanking him. Only the odd angle kept Oleksandr from peeling Aiden off like a kitten. Aiden was hanging on for dear life, but he didn’t know how long he could last. Oleksandr, probably realizing that pulling up wasn’t working, tried squeezing with his left while paddling with his right to stay afloat.
The Werewolf of Marines Trilogy Page 22