Lycan Fallout_Book 2_Fall of Man

by Mark Tufo

  “This your doing?” I asked, referring to my well-being.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I was getting to that. I was just making sure.” I placed my hands at my sides and pushed up. Expecting pain, I received nothing noteworthy. “Sometimes this vamp shit pays off.” I was now standing next to her. “And yeah, the witchcraft as well.” I was moving my “damaged” arm around in ever-expanding circles, waiting for a jarring torment to make me stop. I received a twinge for my efforts.

  “You know what you did was exceedingly foolish, right?”

  “You’ve known me long enough, Azile, to realize this is just how I work. I don’t do this shit on purpose. Wait, maybe I do. I mean, it sounds like the greatest idea ever until it’s over and then I have to kind of reevaluate what I was thinking.”

  “How many times, Michael, must you reevaluate before you begin to get it right?” She was looking at me now. A sort of melancholy brought the corners of her mouth down ever so slightly. I reached out to stroke her cheek, her eyes closing as if in acceptance of my gesture before she pulled away. “I watched you get shot. Do you know how hard that was for me?”

  “Just imagine how hard that was for me?” I retorted. Someday I might figure it out. Really, I might—I mean I more than likely have the capability. Today, however, was not that day. At least I knew when to change tactics. “It needed to be done. They had to be shown that they could take some casualties. If you haven’t noticed, this has been a particularly one-sided affair so far. This shit keeps up, and we’re not going to be around to worry about the Lycan. My boys had been infinitely more versed in warfare than these people.”

  “You could have trained them.”

  “Don’t put this on me, Azile. I had no idea they were farmers hiding behind guns. They held up well at Wheatonville, I mistakenly thought the same would happen here. Maybe I should have realized it would be much more difficult to take on an enemy that did more than just run headlong into a spray of bullets. They can’t even be trusted to stay at their posts. At this point, I’m thinking it might be wise to capitulate to the enemies’ demands. The loss of life for this town could be insurmountable.”

  “Perhaps, but we’re not quite there yet.”

  “Do you have some holy hand grenades that you’re holding back?”

  “Nothing quite that explosive.”

  “What I wouldn’t do for some piping and fuses.”

  “Like a pipe bomb? You know how to make pipe bombs? What else aren’t you telling me?” Azile prodded.

  “I was a prepper; of course I know how to make pipe bombs. Any chance you can conjure some special supplies for that?”

  “Not really my specialty.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “There is something I can do, Michael. It’s distasteful but it can be done. I’ve been wondering all night if it is a morally acceptable thing to do. Even if it is, I question whether I have the right to ask you to do it.”

  I was going to tell her that this sounded like something right up my alley but I could see the toll this was having on her. Whatever it was, it was not something she relished performing. “Tell me, Azile. We’ll walk through it together.”

  It didn’t take all that long for her to tell me; and yeah, she was right, it was distasteful. A Pop-Tart smothered in asparagus and liver wouldn’t have tasted as bad.

  “I’m ready when you are,” I told her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “The way I see it, Azile, we have three options. We continue on like we are and get our asses handed to us before this time tomorrow night. We surrender and give them what they want. Or we try your way. There’s a good chance your way will save the most lives. They’ll have to pull back once they see what you can do.”

  “As soon as it starts I won’t be able to hold it for much more than ten minutes, fifteen at the most.”

  “That’s not much time.”

  “How long can you do it for?”

  “Wait. What are we talking about?”

  “Right now? Right now that comes out of your mouth?”

  “Is there ever a bad time for a joke?”

  “Yes, Michael, there is.” She sighed.

  “That’s a time I don’t ever want to have the displeasure of being in.”

  “Obviously.”

  ***

  “This sounds like suicide,” Bailey said when we informed her of our plan.

  I pointed at Azile. “This one is all on her.” I had ten full magazines placed on my body and one in the well. If that amount of rounds weren’t enough to get out of any unseen trouble, then no number would be.

  “You almost died the first time you went out there, and you’re going to do it again?”

  “Think of the mind fuck this is going to be for them when they see me again.”

  “More than likely, Michael, they will believe it to be something Azile has manifested.”

  “That true?” I swiveled my head.

  “They saw that you were wounded, they will not believe even you capable of being nursed back to health that quickly.”

  “Doesn’t matter, still needs to be done, whether by my doppelganger or myself.”

  “What do you wish for me to do?” Bailey asked.

  “There’s a good chance the Wicked Witch of the East here is going to flag at the most inopportune of times, we just need you to cover our return.”

  Bailey had no idea of the reference I spoke, and Azile, well, she was just too tongue-tied to even come up with anything.

  “Let’s go, champ.” I smacked Azile’s shoulder. She dutifully followed, if only to be near enough to loose her tirade when she could get over the initial shock of my words.

  Bailey pulled the ladder back up once we had climbed down. I didn’t think it prudent to jump just yet. It was the early part of dawn—dark, but not dark enough—the sun just beginning its journey. Each second we were in the open exposed us. I guess that was part of the plan. We weren’t more than twenty feet from the wall when a horn sounded in the woods.

  “Well, that’s either a warning of our presence or a signal to attack. And since I don’t hear any yelling or arrows flying I’m going to say the former.” I had my rifle up and at the ready. I had a feeling targets were going to present themselves to me shortly, like in a training facility where they pop out from behind doors or magically shoot up from the ground. Though these were going to be of the flesh and blood variety not plywood. “Movement.” I turned to what my peripheral vision had picked up. Five men were racing towards us. They had rifles pointed our way. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was more than a little scared. Why they felt the need to expose themselves was a mystery. I could only assume it had a lot to do with their unfamiliarity with the weapons.

  “I do hope those are the rifles we gave the Denarthians,” Azile said before starting a soft chant.

  “Umm, why? Won’t your little force field be alright?”

  “Perhaps, if it were only cloaking me. Stretching it out to accommodate you as well has weakened it.”

  “Now you tell me?”

  “You would have still come.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Now be quiet. I must resume the spell.”

  I moved in closer to Azile to keep the fabric of whatever she had enrobing and protecting us not pulled as tight. One of the men had just discovered his weapon was no more than a badass looking prop. He kept turning it over, pressing buttons, moving the selector switch, pulling the trigger, whatever he could think to do to get the thing to work. He’d even mistakenly let the magazine fall to the ground. Not that this was going to make a bit of difference, another man stopped to help him. The other three were getting ready to shoot as well; at least two others appeared to be going down on one knee. My rifle jarred my just-injured shoulder more than I’d been expecting as the man closest to me fell over to the side as soon as his knee made contact with the ground. The bloom of blood on his chest the only indicator I needed to know about h
is condition.

  The second to get down into a kneeling position was much like the first man, pulling and pushing on parts in hopes to get his weapon to fire. When he put the barrel up to his eye I almost didn’t have the heart to shoot him. Odds were, he’d take care of that himself soon enough if given the chance. I entertained the idea of putting one in his knee and then I remembered that, if his gun fired, he would be trying to kill me. I paused and was breathing slowly out of my mouth when I eased the trigger back. The bullet entered right below his right eye socket. His head snapped back, the bullet blowing out the side of his temple and spraying the man next to him with brain matter. The three remaining men turned tail and ran back to the tree line. I let them. I took note that Azile had a fine sheen of sweat atop her brow and on the top of her lip.

  “Why don’t you let it down while we’re safe and then bring it back up?” I offered, having absolutely no clue what she was going through.

  “Doesn’t work like that. Takes more energy to start than to keep it going. Move.” She ushered me forward.

  We were heading to the next inhabited steel structure as the horn blared again. I saw a crossbow come to rest atop the thick metal, the soldier pulled the trigger almost immediately. I braced for impact as the bolt streaked across the opening between us. I swear I could make out the faintest of outlines as the bolt hit our protection and forced it inwards. Not that anyone from this day will get the reference but it was something like a tennis ball being served into the net. The net takes all the energy from the ball and distributes it throughout all the material and the ball falls to the ground. That’s what happened to the arrow that was fired. The arrow did get dangerously close, though, maybe three or four inches from skin. I would have been much happier with a bigger protective bubble.

  Two men who must have witnessed the event got up and began their sprint back to the safety of the main battle group. I kept aim on them for a few seconds, making sure they weren’t just getting better targeting vectors, and I once again decided to let them go. Shooting a man in the back was not something I necessarily wanted to be associated with. Someone in Bailey’s group did not share that same mentality. The two who had made a run for it were gunned down. The bullets that punctured their spines slammed them face first into the ground, their weapons flung from their hands as they went down. At least one of them was still alive; I could hear his groans, though no part of him moved. His spine must have been severed. I put one in his head just to end his suffering. I could only hope someone would do the same for me if the time ever came. The fine sheen on Azile’s lip had now become a small pool, which would occasionally drip down over her mouth and down her chin.

  “You okay?”

  She could spare little more than a nod. There were at least six crossbows pointing at us now. Bailey was doing her best to make them keep their heads down, but she only had a couple of inches at best to aim at. Again I watched as arrows streaked to us; this time…too many to track. These were also met with the same results as the first. We were finally coming abreast of the small wall. A good five or six were making a break for it, but they met the same fate as their comrades. I had twenty men and women dead to rights. This was worse than shooting fish in a barrel; at least the water would distort your view somewhat.

  “Shoot them, Michael. I grow weary.”

  “It hasn’t even been five minutes.”

  “What I did for you took more of me than I had expected. Shoot them.”

  “Dammit, some of them aren’t much past twenty. Surrender or die!” I shouted to them. Some were still busy re-cocking their crossbows, others getting their arrows into position.

  “Michael, each shot they fire weakens my spell.”

  I drilled the first one to bring his crossbow up. The shot entered through the back of his hand and hit him low in the neck.

  “I will kill every one of you. Put your weapons down now and surrender!” Another brought his arrow up and was able to get the shot off before I could. I swear I felt the tip of the arrowhead brush against the bridge of my nose. Reflexively I pulled back on the trigger. The three round burst killed two men instantly and wounded a third as it went in and out one and into another.

  “The next time I fire, I will not stop until you are all summoning the Holy Ghost!”

  Nine immediately stopped moving, weapons in hand not doing anything. I had to tell them to put them down and raise their hands over their head. I guess that makes sense—not like there were many robberies happening in this time and place. The rest made a run for it. Well, making a run for it implies they got somewhere. That wasn’t really the case because, as soon as they were out in the open, Bailey and her men cut them down. I was amazed as one made it close to thirty yards, which was pretty unbelievable considering the withering fire.

  “Come on, move!” I directed the people—prisoners now, I guess—with the barrel of my gun. I finally had to point with my finger when they just looked at me as if I were a geometry teacher and they were high school students high on hormones.

  “Michael,” Azile said weakly as she fell into my shoulder.

  One of the men thought this was a perfect opportunity for an escape. I gave him two serious reasons to think it was not. The first hit him in the right knee, blowing the back of his leg out. The second hit him in the rib cage; I would imagine shredding his spleen. He moaned for a second or two before he realized he was supposed to be dead and fell in line with that accordance. I wrapped my right arm around Azile to support her and tucked my rifle into my side with my left.

  “We still shielded?” I asked as quietly as I could. Her closed eyes should have been all the answer I needed. “I’ll take that as a no.” Her breathing was labored and she looked like grade school glue, you know…pasty.

  A few arrows were coming out from the tree line, and they were getting dangerously close. One even skidded to a stop not more than a few inches from my foot. Some of the archers began to take their chances and emerged from under the boughs to get a better vantage point. It was as I was looking back, making sure I was not going to get a feather enema, that one of my captives made his move. I was just turning around when, out of my peripheral vision, I caught the glint of the blade. He was lunging for Azile, who couldn’t have fended off an oversized ladybug right now. As it was, I was more carrying her than she was standing of her own volition. He was too close for me to be able to bring my rifle around, so I used the only thing available to me—my body. I turned to shield Azile, grunting as the blade pushed deeply into my side. The pain was intense, tendrils of fire radiating out from the strike as I twisted away. I’m not sure if he was in shock that he’d stabbed the wrong person, or if he figured his job was done, but he let go of the knife hilt, leaving it buried into me up to that fucking hilt.

  It hurt to think about breathing. It was safe to say he’d cut through some internal organ. It would have been damn hard not to, considering the blade was a good six inches long and none of it was outside of me. I backhanded him with my rifle-laden arm hard enough that I heard multiple bones crack from the assault. He was heading to the ground just as two of his fellow detainees thought now might be a good time to finish what he started. The recoil of the rifle as I fired into them had me seeing stars as it shook the knife. I could taste blood in the back of my throat. I was definitely bleeding internally. The man with the busted face was trying to get up. But he never would again as I shot him almost—as karma would have it—in the same spot he’d stabbed me. My bullet wasn’t hampered by length, though, and killed him pretty quickly as it passed through whatever vitals were in that spot.

  “You’re hurt,” Azile mumbled.

  “What else is new?” I asked through gritted teeth. If I were smart enough, I’d find myself a football mouth guard so I’d always have it on hand to bite down on. “Move or die,” I told the prisoners.

  It was as simple as that. Anything that even looked like resistance right now would be the end of them all. I had neither the resources nor the
reserves to deal with anything other than total compliance.

  Bailey came running with three Talboton defenders. One of them grabbed Azile, two took over guarding the prisoners, and my savior, Bailey, was my tower that I was leaning on, much like Azile had been.

  “It is usually preferable in war to not get hurt, Michael.”

  “You think I do this shit on purpose? Because I don’t.”

  “I have historical records to prove otherwise.”

  “BT’s journals are not verifiable proof; they are more anecdotal than anything else.”

  “Should I list them and you tell me what is fact and what is fiction?”

  “You know them all?”

  She nodded. “Even the ones before the zombie apocalypse.”

  “Even those? No, no. No need to list them. Are the fires out?” I winced as we went over a hill an ant would be hesitant to call a rise.

  “For now. I do not know why they do not shoot more. There would be little we could do to stop it.”

  I reflected on that for a moment. “They might be afraid to. That maybe they’ll inadvertently burn the guns, or worse the ammunition. It’s enough that they’ve put the fear of what they can, and may do, into us.”

  “Hmmm…you are smarter than BT alluded.”

  “I love the Tynes’ lineage. I’m not feeling too good, Bailey.”

  “Then it is a good thing we are here.” I raised my head up enough to realize I was inside of a building. I couldn’t even begin to remember when that happened.

  “Did I pass out?”

  “Only for a few hundred yards.”

  “Gonna lose my man-card for sure over this. Carried by a woman during a battle isn’t going to look good on my resume.”

  “You’re not that heavy, I’ve carried bigger children.”

  “You’re not making it any better.” The blackness encroached again as she gently placed me down into a bed.

  “The doctor is on his way.”

  “Bailey, make sure he doesn’t cut off my leg.”