No Such Thing As Werewolves

by Chris Fox

  His opponent quickly realized what was happening. He struggled to free himself from Ahiga’s grip, but Ahiga refused to let the man free. So the man scissored his legs, tripping Ahiga and sending the pair sprawling to the ground.

  This time the soldier was the first to recover. He rolled to his feet, leaping immediately upon Ahiga’s back. Metal claws plunged into his back again and again, shredding his organs and draining what little strength remained.

  He knew he was dying, but there was one more task to complete. Ahiga must show Blair what he was to fight against. He must impart one final gift of knowledge to prepare him for the trials to come.

  Ahiga closed his eyes, abandoning the combat. He sent to Blair with all his remaining strength, inviting the whelp to mindshare. It was his final act, but if it succeeded, he could go to death’s embrace comforted because he’d made amends for his mistakes.

  Chapter 60- Now

  Blair staggered forward, bursting through the kitchen and down the hall toward the garage. He kept his feet, but it was a near thing. Trevor’s Mustang idled in the garage, the white paint job gleaming under the halogen light that had somehow survived the apocalypse the rest of the house had succumbed to.

  Trevor crouched next to the open driver-side door, a large brick in one hand. He looked up sharply as Blair entered the garage. “About damn time. Get in the Rover. I need you to drive. I’m going to send the Mustang into the street to draw their fire. Once they focus on it, I’ll man the Barrett through the moonroof. You get us the hell out of here, and I’ll keep the helicopters off our asses.”

  Blair hobbled toward the vehicle with a nod, agony burning through his right leg with every step. Whatever Ahiga had done to help him heal had gotten him moving, but his body had still suffered catastrophic damage he lacked the strength to fix. The beast remained silent, and for the first time Blair missed its presence.

  He slid into the driver’s seat, noting that the keys were already in the ignition. Blair turned the key, foot firmly on the brake as the engine roared to life. The garage door began to rise. He turned to see Trevor’s crouched form rising from the Mustang. The muscle car shot down the driveway, toward the highway in the distance, leaving dark rubber streaks as it picked up speed. The smell of burned rubber mingled with gunpowder, blood, and dust.

  Trevor sprinted toward the Rover, diving through the still-open door into the back seat. He yanked it shut behind him, grabbing the stock of the huge Barrett and pushing the barrel through the moonroof as he leaned against the back of the passenger seat. “Wait for them to take the bait.”

  Take it, they did. The Mustang roared forward, already threatening to careen off the driveway and down the rocky hillside. It never had the chance. Two opposing streams of bright tracer rounds lit up the night. They converged on the car with chilling accuracy, coring the engine block and turning the car into a pillar of flame.

  “Now,” Trevor snarled.

  Blair didn’t need to be told twice. He romped on the gas, and the Rover rumbled out of the garage. The instant they cleared it, Trevor pushed his torso through the moonroof. Blair struggled to keep the vehicle steady, knowing that would affect the accuracy of the Barrett. He needn’t have bothered.

  The gun roared as they raced past the smoldering remains of the Mustang. Blair winced at the deafening boom, pressing hard on the accelerator as they reached a straight section of driveway. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as he picked up movement. A helicopter canted crazily, slamming into the house in a shower of flame and metal.

  “God damn it,” Trevor snarled, ducking back into the vehicle. His hands moved with practiced precision, ejecting the spent cartridge and slotting in another one. “I should have fucking known. Not bad enough they blow up my dream car and shoot up my house, but I have to finish the job.”

  Then he was out the moonroof again, apparently lining up another shot. Blair focused on the road, swerving to the left as a coyote leapt out of the way. They were everywhere, it seemed, ruling the darkness as they terrified soldiers. Bless Ahiga for the distraction.

  “Speed the fuck up. The last two helicopters are closing!” Trevor shouted from above.

  Blair obliged. The tires smoked as the Rover fishtailed up the last of the driveway and onto the highway’s rough asphalt. He floored it, silently thanking a god he didn’t believe in that no other cars were on the road. He almost had a heart attack when the passenger door opened.

  It shut immediately after, and just like that, Liz’s naked and bloody form huddled in the seat next to him. She was shivering violently, and he doubted it was from the cold.

  “You ok?” he asked and then winced as the Barrett roared again.

  “Shit,” came Trevor’s voice. He slithered back into the Rover to reload. “Missed. Try to keep to a straight—oh shit—Liz, where the hell did you come from?”

  “Saw you guys leaving,” she panted. Blair focused on the road, gliding smoothly into the fast lane. Then the world began to fade. The vehicle slowed just like if he were in a blur, but he lacked the strength to do that even if he’d wanted to. Jesus Christ, what now?

  Blair, my time is nearly gone. Share your mind with me. There is much you must know before I can rest.

  The voice was unmistakably Ahiga’s, though it sounded distant and weaker than the other times he’d communicated telepathically. Blair instantly knew the reason why. Ahiga was dying. Blair had only one choice, even if it meant allowing the Rover to crash. He must learn what Ahiga could teach. He accepted the older werewolf’s probing touch, lowering his defenses and opening his mind.

  Chapter 61- The Deathless

  The world disappeared. Blair found himself in darkness, save for a roaring fire in a ring of rocks. It was surrounded by several tree stumps, each low enough to serve as a comfortable seat. A figure sat on the far side of the fire, silver hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. The weathered lines of Ahiga’s face were somehow deeper in the firelight, etched into unmistakable resignation.

  “Come. Sit. There is much to discuss and little time in which to do so,” the old man rumbled, gesturing to a neighboring stump. Blair sat, accepting the reality of this place, though he didn’t understand it.

  “Where are we?” he asked, glancing around at the sea of darkness surrounding the small island of light.

  “We are in a construct of my mind, a place between us where we can communicate much more rapidly than speech allows. Only a few moments pass for your body, though it will seem much longer here,” Ahiga explained, a comforting smile slipping into place. “In the world of men, I lay dying, yet here I have time to tell you what I must.”

  Ahiga’s death was Blair’s fault, and he knew it. Where would they be now if he hadn’t been so stubborn? He should have listened, but instead he had fled in the other direction and refused to take up the responsibility only he could perform.

  “I am so sorry, Ahiga, about before when you met with us in Acapulco. I was scared and didn’t know who to trust,” Blair admitted, hating how pitiful the excuse sounded. He sat on the stump the old man had indicated. The heat from the flames warmed him despite his knowing they weren’t real.

  “The mistake was mine. I expected you to show me the respect an elder deserved and in my arrogance forgot that you knew nothing of my world or its ways. You were adrift in an ocean of change, seeking only to keep from drowning,” Ahiga said. A pipe appeared in his hand, already giving rise to a single wisp of pungent blue smoke. Marijuana. “I have gone about this badly, but I would not speak of past mistakes. Our time is short. Let us turn to important things.”

  “I have so many questions,” Blair said, closing his eyes as he considered. If time was limited, he might only get a question or two. What were the most important answers he could receive? “Tell me about the ancient enemy. Who are they? What form will they take? How can they be fought?”

  “I cannot explain in the time remaining. I must show you. Are you ready?” Ahiga asked, smile fading. His face grew pain
ed.

  “I am ready,” Blair said with a tight nod.

  His perspective changed.

  Ahiga was a child, playing at the banks of a river. A little girl splashed and laughed nearby, his sister Nori. She wore white swaddling that Blair didn’t recognize, but it seemed normal for the children.

  Behind him stood a row of huts made from woven grass, similar to ones Blair knew from the Miwok tribes of California. The village seemed peaceful, dozens of dark-skinned people living their lives. Mothers suckled babes. Grandfathers carved spear shafts. Children ran and laughed. It was a world completely unfamiliar to Blair, one he expected no one had seen for many millennia.

  A figure staggered from the nearby pine trees, a woman with dirty hair and a torn dress similar to those of the villagers. She weaved drunkenly toward his sister. Blair watched curiously, wondering if he should seek help. He turned to yell back to his parents but stopped when he heard a low hiss behind him.

  The strange woman fell on Nori, knocking her on her back in the shallow water. She seized his sister’s face, leaning close in a horrifying parody of a kiss. Nori screamed as the woman bit her neck and then began to chew. Ahiga stumbled backward, fleeing for the safety of the village. But there was no safety. More and more figures emerged from the trees, some with gaping wounds no man could survive. The dead walked, just as the Singer’s stories claimed they would.

  He ran fast and low into the forest, fleet as a deer. How long he ran, he didn’t know, but Ahiga didn’t stop until he was far from that place of death. Only then did he realize he was alone.

  Blair’s consciousness returned to the fire. Ahiga wept openly. Blair fought for words to comfort the old man but could find nothing that might dull the ache of that horrible scene. “Those were your memories, weren’t they?”

  “Yes, my own childhood. The first time I encountered the ancient enemy. The deathless. They killed most of my people. I, alone, was saved by a champion, though not for many more moons. I fled before the deathless, always pursued as they sought to add me to their number,” he explained, making no move to clear away the tears. “After the champion slew them, I begged for the culling, praying that I would rise to protect people that could not defend themselves, people like my family.”

  “Those monsters, the ones you showed me,” Blair began, unsure if Ahiga would understand what he had to say next. “We have a word for them, the one I mentioned in the hotel back in Acapulco. We call them zombies. The walking dead. There are movies, books, and even a whole subculture of people preparing for an imaginary zombie apocalypse. How is that possible? How could we have ‘guessed’ at the nature of an enemy you say hasn’t been seen in nearly thirteen thousand years?”

  “That is the Mother’s doing,” Ahiga explained, puffing on the dark wooden pipe as the fire dried the last of his tears. “It was she who created what you call the ‘virus.’ She understood humans to their core, the bits that make us what we are. You name this DNA. Genetics. One of the tools she used to prepare humanity was the addition of memory. She ensured that your people would remember the ancient enemy, even if only through myths or stories. That way, when the enemy appears, your people will know their weaknesses and stand a greater chance of survival.”

  Blair was stunned by the revelation. The idea of passing knowledge through human DNA seemed so fantastic. It was an ingenious way to ensure preservation of knowledge. Wherever people propagated, the knowledge of this ancient enemy would survive.

  “The zombie craze is a relatively new thing. It’s really only hit its stride in the last few years, though they’ve been making movies since the sixties. Why now? Why did our people suddenly start to remember this?” he asked, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer.

  “The Mother created triggers for many of the changes she wrought, including the return of her Ark. They were all tied to the sun. When the old age ended and the new began, the sun changed. This process began two or three generations ago and only now accelerates,” Ahiga explained, enjoying another long pull from the pipe. “More changes are coming. The most staggering will be upon us soon. This is the crux of your answer, about who the ancient enemy is and what the danger to your world will be. There is more I must show you.”

  Blair’s perception changed again.

  He hovered over modern day San Diego, just high enough to see people moving about the streets. The sun flared behind him, growing impossibly bright. Then the sky was aflame. It was as if the aurora borealis had somehow come to Southern California.

  Below him, chaos erupted. Figures burst from buildings, attacking those around them. One became two; two became many. Zombies were tearing apart the people below as the sky burned. It spread, more and more of them rampaging across the city. Most moved in a slow shuffle, though more than a few sprinted toward victims. The fast zombies from more recent movies.

  Blair’s perception zoomed out to space, and he observed the whole planet at once. These outbreaks occurred everywhere, all at once. Zombies rampaged across the planet, increasing their numbers through slaughter. As he watched, lights everywhere winked out, the guttering candle of humanity’s technology fading to darkness. People couldn’t communicate, couldn’t warn each other or band together. They were helpless in the face of an implacable enemy.

  “My God,” Blair breathed, returning suddenly to the fire. “The apocalypse you keep talking about. It’s the zombie apocalypse. And werewolves were created to protect people from them. That’s why you wanted us to slaughter as many people as possible, to increase our numbers and cut down on the number of zombies. Ruthless, but I finally understand.”

  “It was the best way,” Ahiga said, eyes flashing with a shadow of his anger from back in Acapulco. “But I understand why you were loathe to embrace it. You did not understand the ancient enemy. You still don’t. What I showed you, this zombie apocalypse, as you call it, this is merely the beginning. My guess at what the first day might be like. There is far worse to come.”

  “Worse? What comes next?” Blair asked, aghast. The flames seemed to grow brighter.

  “I lack the time to reveal all. Focus on your task, rather, and worry not for tomorrow. You must seek out the Mother. She helped birth the deathless. She can give you the knowledge and weapons to fight them. Will you seek her out?” he asked, eyes pinning Blair in place. The urgency weighed tons.

  “I promise, Ahiga. I will wake the Mother, somehow.”

  “Excellent,” Ahiga said, wide smile spreading as he puffed again from his pipe. “I will not live to redeem my failure, but if you undertake this task, the disgrace staining my memory will be washed away. I will be redeemed.”

  “You saw the men who attacked tonight, Mohn Corp. They hold the pyramid, and their forces are likely to be stronger there than they were here,” Blair said, summoning a pipe of his own. He hadn’t smoked marijuana since college. “Can you tell me anything that might give me an edge? Any special powers I can use to get past them?”

  “You need allies,” Ahiga replied, gesturing with his pipe. “These come in two forms. You may recruit other werewolves. Most will recognize your strength, and if you tell them of the Mother’s plight, they will aid you. You can also summon a pack of wolves or foxes, just as I did with the coyotes tonight.”

  “Will that work on dogs?” he asked, taking an experimental puff from his pipe. It tasted like smoke, giving him a light, heady feeling.

  “I believe so, but I must warn you. These dogs you mention, they are an abomination. One that will enrage the Mother,” Ahiga sighed, shaking his head. “Yet I believe you are correct. You can call them to your aid, and they will come. If such a tool must be used, then use it.”

  “What about the differences between males and females,” Blair began. “Why are we different? Why—“

  “My time grows short, whelp. Death wraps me in her embrace. I must leave you,” he said, but the insult had a fondness to it. Ahiga’s form became translucent. “Gather your allies. Free the Mother. She will aid you in
what comes next.”

  Just like that, Blair was back in the car, struggling to right the wheel before he collided with the center divider.

  Chapter 62- Permanent Vacation

  Jordan strode through flaming wreckage, kicking aside a sharp-edged hunk of rotor that blocked his path. The air around him was choked with ash and grit, but the suit’s environmental scrubbers protected him. Of course they also made it hotter than hell, and his entire body was slick with sweat.

  The adrenaline had faded, but the suit had injected him with some sort of chemical cocktail to stem the tide of his injuries. They left him fuzzy, but that seemed a small price to pay in exchange for keeping upright. Jordan shook his head. His mind was wandering.

  He scanned the wreckage until he found a pair of legs jutting out from under what appeared to be a large section of the helicopter’s console, most of the dials shattered and worthless. He seized it in both armored hands, heaving with the suit’s considerable strength. The move flung the console off the prone figure, its armor dented and scored from the combat.

  The helmet had been nearly ripped away, revealing Yuri’s familiar face. His goatee had been burned away, and his flesh was raw pink, but one of his eyes was focused on Jordan. “Time for raise. And vacation.”

  Jordan smiled inside his suit, offering a hand to the beefy Russian. The man took it, and together they pulled him from the wreckage. He was able to stand, though he clearly favored his right leg.

  “Can’t help you with the raise, but after this fiasco I have a feeling we’re about to get a permanent vacation,” Jordan said, reaching up to tap the release code into his helmet. It popped open with a hiss, and he removed it. The night air was cooler than he had expected, given the conflagration raging on the house’s remains just a few dozen yards away.