Lycan Fallout_Book 2_Fall of Man

by Mark Tufo

  “Was it wise to let her go?” Bailey was following a few steps behind.

  “How long could you have stood there with a bayonet to her neck?” I asked without turning around.

  “Is she right, Michael? Are you going to get me killed?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Now you choose not to talk.”

  “What’s in the bag?” I asked.

  “Bullets.”

  I was almost dumb enough to ask where Azile had gotten bullets. Obviously she’d gotten them off the dead bodies of the Talboton riflemen and women who had died before firing them all. It was a boon for us; though at a high cost. If I thought Bailey looked mad previously, she had become a statue of anger. We both stayed up the remainder of that night staring into the fire. Her teeth were clenched so tight I didn’t think air could penetrate.

  Bailey and I were on the move the following morning. We were heading into the Lycan lands.

  “Perhaps Azile was right. I just did not think it would happen so fast,” Bailey said as we approached Xavier’s high rise.

  “What are you talking about?” I was scanning our area.

  “Getting me killed. I did not think you would get to it so quickly. What kind of plan is walking straight into the Lycan stronghold?”

  “Plan? I never said anything about a plan. My thoughts are usually whimsical notions at best. Plus, they’re gone.” I was not relieved—I was pissed off. I’d been hoping for an immediate confrontation.

  “Is that not a good thing?” Bailey was still on high alert. “And how can you tell?” Her head was on a swivel.

  “I don’t smell any mange. Oh, and we’re not being attacked.”

  “You are not one for tactics, I see.”

  “Nope, can’t ever say that was a strong point of mine.”

  Chapter Two – Mike Journal Entry 2

  For fourteen days we hunted the Lycan in vain. They were moving fast; a lot of times driving their infected humans to the breaking point. We began coming up on more and more of them who had died from exhaustion or wicked claw strikes. I pushed Bailey to the brink of her endurance. If I were being honest with myself, every night that we stopped, I’d damn near gone as far as I could as well. If I were still a regular man, she would have buried me a week ago. Oggie, bless his heart, never once complained.

  On the fifteenth day, nothing. It was like they had vanished into thin air.

  “What are they running from, Bailey?” I asked, rubbing my brow. “Certainly not me. You perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.” She was looking up a rocky outcropping that the Lycan had traversed. “They could have gone in any direction.”

  “They’ve been going west for two weeks. Is there any reason to think they would go another way?”

  “I do not know, Michael. I am not a fortune teller or a Lycan.”

  “Told you if you were around me long enough, you’d get to hate me.” I was kind of expecting her to say she didn’t hate me. The words never came out of her mouth. Lesson learned. I guess if there is something you really don’t want the answer to, you shouldn’t bring it up.

  “What do you wish to do?” She was sitting and rooting through her bag for a bit of dried rabbit. Oggie nuzzled her hand when he figured out what she was doing.

  “Is there anything west of here?”

  “I’ve heard of settlements out there, but I believe they are small and I do not know exactly where. We do not trade with them. Mostly it is just rumors.”

  “I think the rumors are true.”

  “Just because the Lycan travel this way does not necessarily mean that is the truth.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I think when Wheatonville didn’t fall as planned, and Xavier didn’t get to walk into his newly defeated town all triumphant and shit, he decided to regroup. Probably hit smaller targets while also replenishing all that he had lost.”

  “Who did he think was chasing him that he has moved his prisoners so savagely?”

  “It is in the nature of a predator to not sustain injury while out on a hunt. That’s part of it. Maybe he’s a coward.”

  She gave me a sidelong glance.

  “Wishful thinking on my part?”

  We spent three days at the base of the rock outcropping. I had initially wanted to push on. That was until I came back from a successful hunt a little sooner than Bailey had anticipated. I saw her by the edge of a small pond, her boots were off and she was tenderly washing her feet. I could smell the blood from twenty-five yards away.

  “When were you going to tell me?” I asked as I came up beside her.

  “When I thought it was business of yours.” She was grabbing her footwear to hide what I’d already seen.

  “Hold on, Bailey. Leave your boots off for now. You’ll get trench foot or something if you don’t let them breathe.”

  “My feet will swell and I will not be able to put my boots back on.”

  “We’ll take a break then.”

  “And the Lycan?”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll still be assholes when we catch up to them.”

  She snorted right up until I grabbed her foot and touched one of the blisters. “That hurt!”

  “Thought it might.”

  “And yet still you touched it?” She shook her head. “Did you get anything? I am getting sick of rabbit.”

  I pointed to where I had a small whitetail deer. I’d used three of my precious bullets to get the prize. I’d completely missed with the first. The second had been a mortal wound through the lungs but not instantaneous. I shot him quickly in the head to end his misery. Every single one of those bullets was worth it when I saw the way Bailey’s eyes lit up.

  “I’ll dress it out.” I said. “Just waddle over there when you can.”

  “I’ll show you waddle.”

  Oggie was drooling long strings of spittle. His head only moved to watch as fat dropped into the fire. He would bark sometimes in response to the sizzle. I couldn’t blame him as the smell of venison had my salivary glands working overtime.

  “You say anything and I will leave you,” Bailey said as she did indeed waddle over to the fire. She was walking on the heels of her feet, doing her best to keep the ground from making contact with the blistering hot spots.

  “I could carry you.”

  “I would rather marry the village idiot.”

  “They brought those back?”

  “According to BT’s journals, they never went anywhere. The village just got bigger.”

  “True enough,” I told her as I pulled off a hunk of meat from the thigh that looked done enough to eat.

  Not sure any of us cared if it was a little on the rare side. We ate in blissful silence. The pressure of the Lycan hunt was off for at least a little while, and it showed in our mannerisms and the ease with which we sat and enjoyed the encroaching night. Not as an obstacle that hindered further progress but as a welcome respite from the many hardships of the day.

  The only way I could have packed more food in is if someone put their foot in my mouth and tamped down what was already in there deeper into some as yet unknown, unchartered, empty corner of my stomach. I rested my hands on my belly and prepared to lie down, as the stars were getting ready to make their appearance and I was in the mood to see them in.

  We did not do much those next couple of days apart from recover. Oggie made the most of it by bounding off and playing, returning only when he was hungry and thirsty. Even with his nearly insatiable desire to eat food he brought no rabbits home. He ate deer to his heart’s content. Bailey’s feet were doing wonders now that she had kept the boots off. She went from a pregnant waddle walker to more of a hot coals ginger-footed movement.

  “I am getting sick of your smiles every time I walk.”

  “What? I’m just cleaning my sword,” I said, turning my back to her.

  “Perhaps I will clean my rifle as well. I truly hope that I do not misfire.”

  “Not cool, Bailey.”

  She smiled as well, whi
ch was not a natural look for her. Looked something closer to a grimace but I wasn’t going to tell her that. It was an improvement over the stone-set expression she generally wore. In another time she could have been a world-class poker player.

  The third night of our respite had descended upon us. The meat was nearly gone, and we’d decided that Bailey’s feet looked good enough to travel. This time we were going to wrap them in some deer fur to prevent chafing. That was the theory anyway. I was looking up to the heavens wishing for a beer and a bag of potato chips when Bailey spoke.

  “I left my boots over by the pond. Could you get them for me, please?”

  “They’ll be alright there,” I said as I shifted, trying to get comfortable.

  “Someone has joined us, I would prefer to have my shoes on should battle be necessary.”

  I sat up fast. “Lycan? Where?”

  “My shoes, Michael.” Bailey had bent to her side to grab her rifle. She was pretending to clean off some debris, but she would be able to bring it to bear quickly.

  “Son of a bitch!” I yelled out. In my haste to get Bailey’s boots, I had left my own off and stubbed my toe on a good-sized rock.

  “As graceful as a swan.” Bailey never looked up from her weapon.

  “I think I broke my toe.” I grabbed Bailey’s boots and came back to the fire as quickly as I could. Oggie, his fur bristling, was now standing and looking up the side of the rock hill. Odds were good it was Lycan. Bailey was wincing as she put her shoes on. I stood next to Oggie, my sword in one hand, axe in the other.

  “Come out now!” I bellowed.

  “Your display of weaponry should convince them you wouldn’t immediately kill them.” Bailey stood.

  “They have less to fear from my sword than they do your rifle.”

  “This is true. I have seen you wield your sword.”

  “You’re on fire tonight, aren’t you?”

  Bailey looked down at her clothes as she took my words to be literal. “I indeed sat close to the fire for warmth, and I am warm but not on fire.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “Could you please make sense before we are to be confronted?”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  “Has the Red Witch returned?”

  “I don’t think she would be so stealthy as to not show herself, or she would be so stealthy that we would never know she was here. No, this is something or someone different.”

  Oggie started barking, his lips pulled back savagely. He was altogether intimidating and terrifying.

  “Come to where we can see you or I will release my hound with instructions to bring you back in pieces if necessary.” Softly I spoke to Oggie, “I don’t really want you to go out there, it’s just a threat.”

  “Do you truly believe the beast can understand you?” Bailey asked.

  “Probably better than you,” I retorted.

  “What does that mean?” She turned on me.

  “Figure of speech, relax.” I thought I was going to have to defend my life for a second.

  “I’m coming! Please don’t kill me, I’m…I’m so hungry is all.” The voice was female or possibly a young male, it was difficult to tell.

  “How many of you are there?” Bailey asked.

  “Just…just me,” came the reply.

  “She’s lying, someone is behind us as well.”

  “Well, this got interesting fast.” I spun. I could just make out the terrain, and potentially a figure. I still had some serious night-blindness going on from the fire.

  “Come to where we can see you...quickly,” Bailey added with authority.

  “We...I just need some help.”

  “She’s as tactful as you,” Bailey whispered.

  “Did you really need to get personal right there?”

  “How many of you are there?” Bailey turned away from me.

  “Just my brother and me.” A figure arose and started coming down the slope, no more than twenty yards away. Either she was pretty sneaky or we had let our guard down entirely too far. If she had meant us harm, which I guess wasn’t completely ruled out yet, she could have been upon us within seconds. I thought I might have to rub my eyes when what was appearing began to materialize. A wraith would have had more substance than the stick figure approaching.

  “Is it human?” I asked Bailey, so unsure of myself.

  I could hear Bailey’s hands twist as they clenched down on her rifle.

  My first inclination was to tell her to kill it, like a knee-jerk reaction when one comes across a fist-sized spider. Evolution had placed triggers within our brains to kill anything that appeared alien and dangerous as a way to preserve our own lives. Bailey must have had the same thought, because she was bringing her weapon up to her shoulder.

  That was when we heard the screaming coming from behind us. I turned to see this small wild man heading our way. I could make out long hair and glistening white teeth as he yelled. I slammed the hilt of my sword into his forehead, knocking him to the ground.

  “Got him.”

  “Congratulations,” Bailey said, looking over her shoulder and down at the figure. “You concussed a small boy.”

  I took a longer look. What I thought to be a pygmy wild man was indeed a small boy. In my defense, he could have been a wild boy. He was naked, covered in mud and cuts.

  “Nemmon!” the stick figure yelled, running towards us.

  She took on more definition and seemed to gain some weight as she approached. Not much, but it was better than thinking that the Thin Man of YouTube fame was heading our way. Not that anyone in this time knew about either of those things. She had been facing sideways to us as she had been slowly navigating down the hill. Now that she was running as fast as she could, she was square to us.

  Bailey and I moved apart, enough for the girl rushing us to brush past and fall to the ground to clutch at her traveling companion. I noticed she was in the same sorry state as the person whose head she held in her lap. The fire perfectly illuminated the myriad of injuries she had.

  “What is your name, girl?” Bailey asked, shouldering her rifle and getting down to take a look at the children.

  The boy couldn’t have been much older than eight or nine. The girl, who I think was most likely his sister, looked twelve or thirteen.

  “I am Breealla. Please help my brother,” the girl pleaded.

  It was not lost on me that Oggie had gone from watching outside of the encampment to inside. His bristling had not subsided.

  “They’re werewolves,” I told Bailey.

  “They are not at this moment. They are scared, hurt, starving children right now.” She grabbed her water skin and handed it to the girl who drank greedily. With mine, she began to wash down the boy.

  “Is he going to be alright?” Breealla asked when she finally put the empty skin down.

  There was a large, angry knot forming on the side of his forehead.

  “He will be alright, but he may have headache upon awakening,” Bailey answered tenderly.

  Breealla was wavering between looking with concern to her brother and looking to the deer meat.

  “Eat, child,” Bailey told her.

  If there were any doubts to what the girl was, they were removed once she began to eat. I’d watched television shows about lions on the savanna that ate with more grace. She was all teeth; I was surprised she didn’t draw blood from her own digits the way that she was shoveling the food in so quickly.

  “Bailey, what are you doing?”

  “I know full well what they are, Michael. Should I run them through with my bayonet and be done with it?”

  Breealla gulped heavily and was now looking at Bailey wide-eyed, her ravenous intake of food stopped for the moment.

  “No,” I said to Bailey. She relaxed. “I’ll do it.”

  She stood quickly. “You will do no such thing.” Her hand was reaching back for her rifle.

  “Would you?” I asked her, wondering if she would
shoot me to stop me.

  “If necessary.”

  “What are you doing here, girl?” I asked.

  Breealla cringed as I spoke to her. There was this tiny, remote spot hidden under an unused part of my heart that pained for her.

  “You are scaring her,” Bailey said protectively.

  “My...my brother and I escaped the Lycan five nights ago and have been on the run ever since.”

  “Where were you? How many Lycan and humans were with you?” My face must have been intense, because the girl was pushing back.

  “Michael!”

  “What, Bailey? I want as much information from her before…” I let that trail off.

  “Before what?” she asked.

  “Are you as insane as Azile? What do you think is going to happen to her and the little wildling there in a few nights? They going to make some playmates for Oggie? I don’t think so, they’re going to try and rip our throats out. Or do you wish to feed and clothe them, strengthen them up a little bit before we turn them loose so they can rip someone else’s throat out? Your call.”

  “I do not know what I wish to do. Tonight, though, they will have the courtesy that all road-weary travelers should have afforded to them.”

  “Oh yeah, that should make it way easier to get rid of them when the time comes.” I walked away to go sit by the pond. They were kids, I knew that, but they were also monsters. Uncontrollable, incurable monsters. I believed whole-heartedly that the best thing we could do for them, for us and any innocents they may run across, was to end their lives quickly. I tossed enough small stones into the water that my arm was sore by the time Bailey came over to me.

  “I would like to talk to you, Michael.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Please stop with the rocks and look at me.”

  I did.

  “You are correct. They are infected with the Lycan virus, but you are also incorrect. They have not become werewolves yet. The Lycan came across their homestead, killed their mother and father and two of their siblings before sparing these two.”

  “I’m unsure how infecting them is sparing their lives, but okay. What do you want us to do about it? The full moon is less than a week away, and they are maybe that many days ahead of us.”