by Chris Fox
“I’ll intercept them,” Liz called, loping off in that direction. She paused behind a tree to strip off her clothing. Juan wasn’t the only one staring.
“Blair,” Yvessa screamed, pointing behind him. “There are more of them.”
He dropped from the street light, landing in a crouch. A dozen figures emerged from a shattered store front, these ones moving more slowly than those he’d seen in the distance. They were still a threat, though. Blair blurred, starting with a tourist in a Hawaiian shirt on the far left. He severed the spinal cord, then charged a desiccated woman wearing only a single sock. A quick swipe dropped her as he moved on to the next target. The work was swift but grisly.
Yvessa’s screams continued unabated, though he could hear Juan pleading with her to be quiet. More and more zombies emerged from buildings. Some drifted out from under the trees in the park. There had to be at least a hundred, maybe more.
Then the runners came into view, too-white bodies barreling through the park in their direction. Liz disappeared into the shadows, reappearing directly behind the runner in the back. She leapt on the pale creature, bearing it to the ground and crushing both skull and spine under her weight. Blair fell back to the group, watching in horror as the other five runners approached. They were so fast, too fast for him to take the time to shift into wolf form.
Liz leapt on top of it a second one, bringing it down. There was no way she’d be able to stop them all. A gunshot cracked and a runner’s head exploded. Then another. Suddenly Bridget’s nine-foot silver form was there, dismembering another. The last one was almost upon them, but Blair glided forward to meet it. Its scarlet eyes glared hatefully at him, and its razored teeth sent a chill coursing down his spine.
Blair blurred, dodging to the right and then back to the left. The move caught the runner off guard, and he seized its head between his hands. A quick jerk snapped the neck and the thing dropped bonelessly to the ground.
“Nooo,” came a shriek from behind. Blair spun to see a group of walkers surrounding the refugees. Miguel stabbed a walker with a long knife that he'd pulled from somewhere, but he was too slow to reach Yvessa. One of the creatures had seized her arm. It bit down on her shoulder, clinging there like a bulldog as it gnawed her flesh. Her shrieks split the night around them.
Blair finally shifted, destroying his clothes as he grew taller and stronger. Fur erupted from his skin as his snout elongated. Then he leapt forward, decapitating the zombie with one blow. He barreled into the next and the next, a single second stretching as he blurred through a sea of zombies. Then it was over, the refugees left amidst islands of bodies, with Bridget, Blair and Liz standing in a protective triangle.
“We all know what happens next,” Miguel said, gesturing at Yvessa. “She’s going to become one of those things.”
“Not like this,” Yvessa moaned, sinking to her knees. She cradled her mangled arm in her lap. “It can’t end like this. There must be something we can do…”
“Don’t look,” Liz said, gathering Juan and moving him away from the group.
The boy began to struggle, straining to reach his mother. “No, there has to be something we can do. There has-.”
Liz’s hand clamped around his shoulder, pulling his face into her chest. “Shhh.”
Blair knew what he had to do, and it had to be done while Liz was comforting the boy. He stepped forward and snapped Yvessa’s neck before she was even aware he was moving. It came more easily than he’d expected, the first time he’d ever had to kill a defenseless person. Was that the beast’s influence, or had he changed more than just physically?
Juan spun away from Liz, giving a shriek as he dropped to his knees next to his mother’s corpse. Blair hated himself, but what choice was there?
None, Ka-Dun. His beast rumbled, somber and subdued. It didn’t speak often these days, not since they had truly joined.
They’d been gone from the Ark too long and they needed to get back.
Chapter 5- Nameless
The shambling corpse had lost his name. It hovered just out of reach, as distant as the stars. It bothered him, this lack of a name. Bothered him a great deal. Almost as much as his imprisonment, an unwilling passenger in a body that seemed to have its own agenda. That body shambled forward, weaving through the deserted street. It passed unfamiliar houses, odd structures set atop two-foot stilts. They were different than the houses the nameless corpse knew, with thinner walls and thatched roofs. It would have been interesting to inspect them more closely, but his body shambled forward with no regard for his orders.
It staggered, tripping over a shape in the darkness. His body looked down at the obstruction. A corpse, or what remained of one. The flesh had been meticulously stripped clean. The bones cracked, already drained of marrow. The tide of hunger rose, threatening to overwhelm him as it had so many times over the last week. It never abated unless he was feeding, resuming the very instant he stopped chewing.
His body turned its gaze back to the town, studying the line of houses. The flickering light of a candle came from a window four houses down on the left. The darkness obscured any differences, making the house identical to its neighbors. His body shambled towards it, slow and awkward. That frustrated him too, though he didn’t know any other way of walking. It felt…wrong.
His leg shook violently as he raised a foot, but he avoided toppling as his body set it on the first step. The worn wood creaked loudly under his weight, but it held. He attempted the second. Then the third. A fourth step carried him to the door, faintly illuminated by the glow in the living room window. A gasp came from inside. The light winked out.
He listened. Breathing came from behind the door. There were heartbeats. Two of them. Both rapid. Should he be able to hear heartbeats? No, he was positive that was wrong. Different. New.
His body raised a trembling hand to the door handle, wrapping a weak grip around it. It turned with a click, the door creaking open with a little urging. Shouldn’t they have locked the door? Or at least blocked it with a dresser or bed?
His body staggered inside, gaze sweeping the room. It was gathered in darkness, except for the patch of bamboo planks in the pool of moonlight. The heartbeats were more frantic now, thundering from the corner of the room. He could just barely make out a pair of shapes huddled against the wall. One taller, sheltering the smaller one. A woman and child. Horror bloomed, giving way to panic. Every fiber of his being yearned to warn them, to scream that they should run. All that emerged was a low wail, the first time that he’d been able to force his body to do anything.
It shambled across the room, moving towards the doomed family. Why didn’t they run? They could probably make it past him. He was slow, ungainly. Yet they cowered there, praying he wouldn’t notice them. His body crossed the gap in three awkward steps, then lunged at the larger figure. An old woman with short white hair. She flinched, but made no attempt to run. Instead she shoved the smaller figure forward. “Antonio, ejecuta!”
The little boy shot to his feet, bolting across the bamboo floor like a deer as he burst from the room into the night. The nameless corpse turned to watch the boy’s flight, then turned back to his prey. He seized the woman’s arm, biting savagely into her shoulder. His weight bore her to the wooden floor with a hollow thump as he began to feed. At first she screamed and thrashed, but that grew weaker as he tore loose mouthful after mouthful. The hunger faded for the first time in days. In its place came clarity. He remembered.
There had been a pyramid, surrounded by bright lights. Men with guns. Werewolves. That couldn’t be right, could it? There were no such things as werewolves.
Chapter 6- The Ring
Blair scrubbed a hand through sweaty hair as he trudged towards his chamber, somewhere past exhausted.
“Blair,” Bridget called from behind him. He turned to find her hurrying down the passageway. She gave a dazzling smile when he stopped and waited for her. It brought back so many memories, most of them unwelcome. “I’m too keyed
up to sleep after that mess in Cajamarca. I was thinking maybe we could do a little sparring.”
“You mean you’re looking for a punching bag,” Blair said. He returned the smile, focusing on one of the better memories. It was nice to relax, just a hair. He’d been on edge since the second wave hit, hell since he’d first come to the Ark almost three months ago.
Being forced to leave behind survivors didn’t help. He knew no one was happy about that, but he’d been the one to argue for it. The Mother was right. They couldn’t get bogged down by a small group. They had to think big picture, as much as it killed him to do so. “I always get my ass handed to me. I’ve never been able to catch you with any of my tricks. Guess I’m not much of a Jedi.”
“You’ll never win with that attitude. I’ve never known you to give up. Isn’t your manhood at stake being beaten by a girl?” she teased, linking an arm through his as they strolled towards the sparring ring the Mother had none too subtly demanded that they practice in daily. He knew he should disengage, but damn if it didn’t feel good. He deserved a little gratification. She smelled heavenly, familiar and warm.
“Being beaten by a girl? You mean having my throat torn out by a nine-foot werewolf who can vanish at will?” Blair asked, shaking his head. “Trust me, my manhood is intact. It’s not a fair fight. Girl werewolves shouldn’t hit boys.”
Bridget laughed, jeans clinging to her like a second skin as she skipped ahead into the sparring ring at the center of a cavernous chamber. It was a fascinating invention. A glowing white ring bordered a wide black swathe of obsidian, raised about two inches above the surrounding room. The moment Bridget entered it the ring began to pulse in time with her heartbeat. She crouched at the far side, a predatory grin on her face. How stupid was he, doing this yet again?
Bridget pulled off her shirt and dropped it on the stone just outside the ring. The bra came a moment later, followed by the jeans. At least there were some perks to this. He pulled off his own shirt, adding garments until they both stood naked. That had been the most awkward part the first few days, especially when they all sparred together. Now he was used to the nakedness, no longer embarrassed. It was hard to be, after the werewolf virus had reshaped his body into something any gym rat would envy.
“All right, let’s get this over with,” he said, forcing himself to take the final step into the ring. It flared brightly, veins of light running inward towards the center of the ring. He shifted as he moved, the change like breathing now. In the span of three spaces he gained two feet of fur and muscle, the silver mirrored in Bridget's coat as she shifted too.
Then Blair was elsewhere. There was no ring, just a vast jungle. The Amazon this time. He hadn’t seen this level before, but he couldn’t waste time gawking. Bridget would already be studying the ring, learning the terrain. She’d find the best place to ambush him and then strike, when he least expected it. It always began this way. How could it not? He couldn’t hide from a female and she could effortlessly fool his senses. The only advantage he had was speed.
Blair blurred to the top of a wide bowled tree with thick drooping fronds. He’d never seen it before, but then he’d also never been to the Amazon. The bark was leathery against his bare feet. It smelled bitter. There was flash of movement in the corner of his vision. He spun, leaping to another branch to get a look at the cause. A pair of squirrel-sized monkeys chittered quietly on a branch. Their black and white fur and drooping mustaches lent them a dignified air.
Macaws shrieked from neighboring trees, a counterpoint to the intermittent drone of insects. In the distance a jaguar roared. The jungle flowed around him, unaware of the predators in its midst. Maintaining that advantage was critical. If the animals fell silent it would alert Bridget to his presence, whereas he’d get no such warning. The animals were simply incapable of detecting a shadow-dancing female.
Blair blurred forward, grabbing a thick branch with both hands. He swung, using his momentum to carry him to a neighboring tree. He cushioned his landing as much as possible, but the monkeys in the neighboring tree still fell silent. Hopefully Bridget hadn’t heard that. He scanned the surrounding jungle, layers of shadow obscuring the jungle floor. Only a few rays of sun broke the canopy, isolated pools of light in a greater shadow.
He released the limb, dropping silently onto a fern below. It cushioned his fall enough that the droning insects continued uninterrupted. He dropped into a crouch, back planted against the tree. There had to be a way to detect her. He couldn’t see or smell her and he couldn’t probe her mind, at least not effectively. Her defenses were too strong. So what were his options?
Shaping had to be the key. It was his one advantage. The Mother wouldn’t have left an entire gender defenseless, so there must be a way to compensate for a female's stealth. Hmm. He couldn’t pierce Bridget’s mind when he probed her, but he could feel resistance when he tried. How could he use that? Maybe he could somehow broadcast his will in all directions like a sonar burst. A sort of ping.
This is possible, Ka-Dun. Dispersing your will weakly in all directions. Ingenious. The beast rumbled. It spoke rarely these days, now that they'd joined fully.
Disperse his will. He considered the problem for a moment, blurring to another tree trunk, then another so quickly that he hoped Bridget couldn’t follow. How could he do that? Visualization. That seemed to be how all their powers worked. Blair imagined his will as a giant balloon, slowly filling as he pushed harder. It grew larger and larger, bulging around him in a shimmering wave he suspected only he could see. He pushed harder, straining until it was as large as he could make it. Then still further. Finally it burst, spraying bits of his will in a blast around him. It washed harmlessly through the jungle in every spot. Except one.
He met resistance in a neighboring tree, just a few feet behind him to the left. Blair blurred, diving into a roll as Bridget’s claws raked the space he’d just occupied. He flipped to his feet, spinning to face her as Bridget melted back into the shadows.
“That’s the first time you’ve anticipated one of my attacks,” her disembodied voice came from the shadows. “What did you do differently?”
“Trade secret,” he replied, grinning as he repeated the trick. There.
He lunged at the darkness, his swipe connecting ever so briefly with flesh. His claws came back tinged with blood, but there was no sign of Bridget.
“Clever, whatever it is. You can find me now. And here you didn’t want to spar,” she teased from the shadows.
Furry arms shot from the darkness behind him, wrapping around his midsection as Bridget’s much heavier body bore him to the ground. He struggled briefly, but now that she had a hold of him there was no escape. She was much, much stronger.
Then she began the worst form of torment, the kind she knew better than anyone how much he dreaded. She tickled him. He thrashed back and forth, struggling to free himself as he wheezed out laugh after laugh.
“A-all right,” he panted, going limp. “I yield.”
The jungle vanished, replaced by the obsidian ring with its bright border. Bridget’s form wavered, shifting back into a very naked woman. Her impossibly soft breasts pressed against his back, her face buried against the fur behind his neck.
Blair shifted too, rolling onto his back. Bridget snuggled up to him, draping an arm across his chest and nestling her head on his shoulder. It brought him back to countless mornings in bed, long conversations about interesting topics after hours of lovemaking. The longing warred with the pain of betrayal. Part of him recognized this as an invitation to more pain, but he stayed where he was. Her scent was overpowering.
“I’m sorry, Blair. For everything. I hope you understand that,” she murmured, burying her face against his shoulder. It actually sounded sincere. Maybe it even was. People could change, couldn’t they?
“It looks like the ring is already in use, though not for sparring,” Cyntia’s thickly accented voice came from the doorway.
“We’ll just have to wait our tur
n,” Liz replied, tone dry as the Sahara.
Blair scrambled to his feet, blushing in embarrassment and guilt, though he wasn’t sure why he should. It’s not as if he were dating Liz, though they’d certainly grown close during their mad flight from Peru. Bridget leapt to her feet, snatching her shirt from the ground and covering her chest with it. She refused to meet Liz’s gaze. He was a little ashamed of standing there naked, but he squared his shoulders anyway.
“We just finished,” Blair offered. Lamely.
“I’ll bet you did,” Liz muttered, expression unreadable.
“Blair learned a new trick,” Bridget said, obviously attempting to change the subject. She glanced down at her nakedness, blushing scarlet. “He can find us even when we’re hiding in the shadows.”
“Interesting,” Liz said, striding purposely towards the ring. She’d already regained her composure and if she were angry, she certainly didn’t show it. “How do you do it, Blair?”
“I send out a sort of 'ping.' Like radar,” he explained, exiting the ring and meeting Liz and Cyntia near the edge. He picked up his shirt, but didn't put it on yet. He’d be damned if he was going to act embarrassed, no matter how he felt. Bridget stood a few feet away, still avoiding Liz’s gaze. “I can’t easily invade your minds, but I feel the resistance when I try. If I send out a weak ping in all directions I can sense where you are.”
“Impressive,” Cyntia said, crossing her arms over a more than ample chest. The gesture seemed deliberate, so Blair studiously avoided looking. He was already in enough trouble, though he wasn’t sure why he should be. “Did you discover this technique, or did your beast reveal it?”
“It was my idea. The beast seemed rather surprised,” he replied, eyeing the safety of the door. “I’m going to go grab a shower. I’ll see you all at dinner.”
Bridget started to follow, but Liz touched her arm. “Would you stay, Bridget? I was hoping we could spar.”