by JS Rowan
“How did you know about this shelter, Bob?” Thor asked.
“I helped Bill and Sandra put it in—too bad they didn’t get to use it.”
“What is the reading on the re-breather?” asked Thor.
While he waited for Bob to read the meter, he thought about carbon dioxide. The first attempts to hide from the werewolves had just resulted in the people being “lunch in a can.” The werewolves could locate any exhaust vents by smell and just dug down until they found the hiding humans. Now all shelters had re-breathers.
“It’s good,” said Bob. “We have about twenty hours of air.”
Just then, a long rumbling howl sounded right above the shelter. One would think that no one could hear a howl from twenty feet down, but there it was. It chilled everyone to the bone. Mary actually shuddered with fright.
Twenty hours of listening for howls and signs of digging followed. The group slept off and on. It wasn’t a good sleep, and it was more “off” than “on.” Finally all decided that they were awake and declared it “morning.”
The family had gotten to know Bob overnight. He had started out two days ago with a hunting party of six. He didn’t say if they had originally been hunting game or werewolves. Things had gone bad and his group had split up. They had been spotted by a large number of werewolves. Bob said the car that the family had seen being torn apart the previous day had probably belonged to members of his group.
Bob had a lighter version of the rife that Thor carried. It was probably a knockoff, but it fired the same ammo. Thor gave him five rounds as a reward for helping the family. Bob was delighted. He was even happier when Will told him there was another seventy-five rounds in the destroyed truck, if they hadn’t cooked off in the explosion.
It was time to move out. Thor and Leona talked over the options. It was a truism that if you have a hiding spot, you should never go out the way you came in. A well-fortified door was only good when it was closed. There were stories about how unwary people had left shelters only to find werewolves waiting for them at their entrance. Fortunately, Bob had known this when he built the shelter with Bill and Sandra. There was a second door.
Bob decided he was going to check out the truck. Thor told him that he thought it was an extraordinarily bad idea. Bob was determined. He seemed to be obsessed by the thought of all that ammunition. Who was Thor, then, to say different?
Bob and Will opened the back hatch, which was about a hundred feet from the other door and hidden by some rocks. The women were behind them with their shotguns at the ready in case of leaping werewolves. Thor stood back, sighting over everyone’s heads to get off a quick distance shot with the rifle.
Bob went first, moving slowly when he did not see any wolves. The others filed out silently, one by one. When they reached a point where they could peek over the rocks, sure enough, there was a werewolf asleep by the main door. Bob started aiming at it. Thor quickly pushed the barrel of Bob’s gun aside.
“No! We don’t know how many others are around.”
The group moved quickly and quietly away from the werewolf. The wrecked truck was located to the west, one of Thor’s shelters was to the north, and the wolf was to the south. In the thinnest of whispers, Leona and Thor calculated that the distance to the shelter was about two hours of normal walking and maybe eight hours of careful walking under cover. Bob moved away from group, going west. Thor was not unhappy to see him go. In the brief time he had walked together with the family, he had made a lot of noise.
“I don’t think we’ll see Bob again,” said Thor.
“No, really,” said Leona, “he’s a sloppy walker.”
“Plus, that silver ammo is probably all cooked off anyway,” said Will.
Mary shook her head dismissively and sighed. She bumped her shoulder against Will’s in a rough substitute for a hug.
About an hour later, the family had traveled about a mile when they heard a shot. They were on a hill and could see all the way back to the truck. Nonetheless, they hid in the scrubby bushes as best they could. Thor looked through the scope and saw Bob shoot a second werewolf. Bob did not see the third werewolf, which was charging him from the rear. Thor lined up for a shot on the third wolf, but it was too late. Before he could squeeze off a round, the wolf had already sliced Bob in half.
The men and women on the hilltop looked at the werewolf devouring Bob’s corpse for a moment and then backed down the hill into the hollow. Thor wished that Will had not said anything about the ammo in the truck.
“We have to move quicker. We don’t want to be out here after dark,” said Thor.
They tried to move at a faster pace, but had to take care not to make rustling sounds or step on branches in the brush. Despite their attempt to move quicker, they weren’t going much faster than before.
After eating Bob, the werewolf at the destroyed truck howled. It was met by answering howls from distant werewolves all around the group. The humans stopped for a moment in a copse of trees to take stock of the situation.
“I have never heard of so many werewolves in one area,” said Mary.
“I think between our group and Bob’s group we must have killed too many werewolves at one time. That’s attracted their attention. We have to keep our wits about us and keep moving,” said Leona.
They moved back onto the road and started into a quick walk. Not having to avoid branches made for quieter, easier progress. However, they were all anxious, constantly looking around in case of being caught in the open by a surprise werewolf attack. They kept up the quicker pace for another mile before Will called for a break.
“My old bones are not up for all this walking,” Will said.
They slid down into the ditch beside the road for a rest. Mary and Will leaned their aching backs against the sloping earth, softly groaning.
It was fortunate that they were resting near a large drainage culvert. Thor saw seven werewolves walking in formation along the road. Thor pointed, and the family quickly took shelter in the culvert, under the road. It was dry, so there was no water to splash in. He signaled to the group and they didn’t make a sound, not even to breathe.
The thing that struck terror in the heart of Thor was that these werewolves were armed. They each had a very heavy-looking silver “gun.” Or at least they carried the objects like guns. The weapons looked more like the ray guns from a 1950s TV show than anything else. It was spooky how military they looked, walking in formation like that.
The last werewolf in the pack had a handheld scanner and was pointing it in the direction they had just come from. Thor was sure that meant the wolves were looking for their group, specifically.
Thor didn’t dare to move for fear of the wolves turning the scanner on them. And then turning those weapons on them. Thor looked at his family. The fear and shock on their faces numbed him. They all crouched, hidden, until they were sure the werewolves could not hear them, and cautiously checked to ensure that the werewolves were out of sight. They moved out ever so quietly.
About five minutes later a transport truck with a fifty-caliber machine gun on top came toward them. Thor stepped out and raised his arms in a V, then touched the top of his head with both hands. It was the universal signal for werewolves nearby. Then Thor pointed in the direction that the werewolves in formation had just gone. The truck either didn’t see him or didn’t care, as it carried on anyway without stopping.
“That can’t be good. Let’s move now,” said Thor.
The family broke into a dead run. Fear and adrenaline drove all the tiredness out of their systems. Gunfire erupted behind them. Not just the fifty-cal, but dozens of heavy guns started to fire. The screaming howls of werewolves dying could be heard for miles.
“That transport was probably carrying hunters,” gasped Leona, finally coming to a halt.
Even though they bent over, panting, each of the family members faced in a different direction, with one hand on a knee to support their weight and the other hand on a weapon.
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nbsp; “Yeah, the CB is probably going crazy with reports of action here,” panted Will. He hawked and spat toward the ditch.
“Great! That means that every hunter with a gun and a death wish will be converging here soon,” said Leona.
“And we’re right in the middle of it,” said Will.
“Ah…guys, before we start ranting, remember that we started this little dustup,” said Mary.
One by one the family members straightened up. Will rubbed a stitch in his right side. Mary came over and massaged the spasming muscle. After a moment, Will thanked her and waved her away. Leona smiled a little at the love shown by her parents.
When he judged that everyone had recovered some wind, Thor motioned for them to get back into action. They continued up the road, but hugged the trees for cover.
Suddenly Thor hissed at them, and everyone crouched down.
Two werewolf transport ships appeared over the area where the sound of the firefight was concentrated. One of the ships fired its main laser, and a cloud of mingled smoke and fire drifted up from the ground. The fifty-caliber machine gun fell silent but dozens of heavy guns kept firing. The ships were visible above the treetops.
Thor motioned to the rest of the family to start running again. They were all so tired that now they were as much staggering as running.
The transport ships did not return to the mother ship. Instead, they started firing at ground targets that were moving away from the area of the fighting. One of the ships started heading toward the family. They sought cover in a ditch across the road from a two-story house that had come into sight.
As the ship passed overhead, it fired its laser. An explosion came from the front yard, not more than a hundred feet away.
The two ships continued to fire at seemingly empty ground and this somehow caused explosions. After a while the ships moved away and the explosions became more and more distant.
“They’re targeting shelters. They want to make sure that the hunters have no place to hide from the werewolves after the battle,” said Leona. “What do you think?”
“We are so screwed,” said Will.
“No point in us trying to make for our own shelter, it’s probably destroyed, same as the rest. Let’s go see if the nice people in that house will let us in,” said Leona.
As they moved toward the house, the smell coming from the hole in the ground told them that the residents had been in the shelter when it was hit. Mary retched a little, a hand over her mouth. The family moved quietly into the house in case one of the owners was still inside, but it was empty.
“Well, if I am going to die, I want some warm food and a bed first,” said Will.
“It’s not the best tactical idea, but I agree. Leona, my dear, if you’ll cook, I’ll take first watch,” said Thor.
“Nonsense! Leona and Will, you nap while I make us some dinner,” said Mary.
Thor woke up the next morning when Will gave him a shake. They had found air mattresses in the attic. After standing watch, each person in turn had fallen into a deep sleep on the bare vinyl. All but Will, who insisted on sleeping in a bed downstairs, had slept up in the attic.
“Wolves coming down the road!” said Will.
“How many?” Thor blinked, trying to wake up his brain quickly.
“Aaaaall of them,” Will said in his best Arnold impersonation.
“It wasn’t Arnold who said that line,” said Thor.
“Are you sure?” said Will. He opened his mouth to say more, but a menacing look from Leona shut them both up.
Thor peeked out the attic window facing the road. In the field across the road from the house there were dozens of werewolves and hundreds of people. The people were being loaded onto one of the large transport ships for transport up to the mother ship. One of the werewolves with a scanner pointed it in their direction, and six unarmed and four armed werewolves headed toward the house.
“We are going to have company,” said Thor.
Thor sighted his rifle on the first armed werewolf and fired. The round went through it and hit an unarmed wolf behind it as well.
“Good shooting, son, you got a two-fer,” exclaimed Will.
One of the werewolves returned fire and blew a three-foot hole in the wall near the window. Will moved over to the hole and opened up with his fifty. He didn’t hit anything, but it slowed the wolves’ progress and Thor was able to fire twice more, with deadly results, before the wolves entered the house.
While the shooting was going on, Mary and Leona moved out of the attic and into a defensible position in the bathroom downstairs. The owner had used glass brick in the bathroom, so it made for good cover.
The first wolf up the stairs was met by two shotgun blasts. Leona, ever deadly with a shotgun, had managed to put a round through the werewolf’s eye. The werewolf behind that one tossed a grenade-like object into the bathroom. It detonated with a brilliant flash, and the shotguns went quiet.
Will, thinking that his beloved wife and daughter were dead, went half crazy with rage and grief. He dropped down from the attic right in front of the wolves. With his fifty freshly reloaded, he started firing at the wolves from less than three feet away. He got four rounds off before a blast from a werewolf weapon stopped the carnage.
Thor stayed in the attic sniping the wolves that were outdoors. He had dispatched a dozen of them. However, he had only three rounds left. The wall of the attic had been blasted full of holes from the werewolves’ return fire. Thor had been moving around so they could not get a fix on his location.
Thor turned, realizing from the silence that the gunfire from the floor below had stopped. There was a werewolf poking its head and shoulders up through the access for the drop-down stairs into the attic.
Thor fired, knocking the wolf back down the stairs. He loaded one of his last two rounds in the rifle and prepared to fire again. Suddenly, one of those grenade things landed near him.
Oh shit! was the last thing Thor thought.
CHAPTER 2
The Werewolf
November 3, 2038, 2:33 a.m.
On Board Alien Ship Departing Earth
Anger. Deep, horrible, consuming anger.
He began to sense his surroundings.
It was just so hard to think!
“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhh!” he heard.
Was that roar from him? It had to be, it felt so good.
“RRREEEEEaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
He started to be able to see now. The red mist was clearing from his eyes. He blinked several times. The lights were so bright.
He swiveled his head, growling in his throat. He was in some kind of big, high-ceilinged room.
The objects of his anger were in the room with him. They were terrified. He did not take note of any details in their appearance—just saw them as three cowering figures huddled in a far corner of the room. Their anxious whispers to each other scratched at his brain, each syllable like a sharp missile of pain.
He was lying on his back on some kind of table or platform. This made him so infuriated that he growled again.
Why was he angry? He could not remember anything beyond the “right now.” The present moment was all he could think of. He struggled against the bonds that held him on the…gurney, yeah, that’s what the platform was, a gurney. So insulting! Whoever had put him on it deserved to die! He roared with rage. The bonds gave way with a tearing sound. He was free!
He rushed up to the first of the terrified people and lifted him up by one arm. In his head he heard a command.
KILL, KILL, KILL!
He raised his other arm to strike him.
He heard one of the women praying. Confusion hit like a brick. Praying. What was that? How did he know what that sound was?
KILL, KILL, KILL!
He raised his arm to strike again.
This time the woman screamed. Not with her mouth, but with her mind. For a moment the voice telling him to kill was silenced.
He looked at her.
“Who are you?” he thought.
He was surprised when she replied out loud, “Leona!”
Leona—that name sounded so familiar. Who was she, and why did that name resonate with him? Although the rage still beat in his ears, he hesitated. Something was not right. Something…something was wrong?
KILL, KILL, KILL!
He lifted the grey-haired man that he was holding until he could look closely into his face. The terrorized look had turned to defiance.
“I’m not afraid of you, monster. You can kill me, but we will never serve your kind!”
KILL, KILL, KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!
That voice in his head was rising in volume. A pain around his neck started to become intense. He reached for his throat and felt a collar. It felt thick and warmly metallic to his fingers. He dropped the man and for the first time looked down at his arms and body.
The pain from the collar was nearly overwhelmed by the confusion he felt when looking at himself. This was not right! His arms and body were covered in long heavy fur. He had huge arms and legs; he was at least four feet taller than he remembered. His hands were large and furred on the backs like animal paws, and he had sharp claws where fingernails should be.
Wait—he remembered something! His thoughts fumbled as if he were drunk, and now he knew what “drunk” was. If only he were not so angry. If only his neck didn’t hurt so much. The pain in the collar was unbearable now.
He collapsed on the floor, screaming in his mind, “Take it off, take it off!”
The woman—Leona—came over and stretched up to look at the collar. Her pale face reflected her fear of him, but her brows and mouth showed grim determination as well. She grasped the collar and tugged at a clasp he could not see. She was rewarded for her effort with an electric shock that knocked her across the room. The sharp crack! and burning smell hurt his ears and nose.
Leona got up from the floor, shoulders hunched, cradling her hand. The second woman, grey-haired, walked to her and examined Leona’s hand.
The man, seeing what Leona had been trying to do, took out a work glove that was in his back pocket. He looked over to her, his brows drawn down. “I hope you know what you are doing!” The man then grasped the collar with the insulated glove and take it off the “monster’s” neck.