End of an Age

by Mark Tufo

  “Sucks for you. Can’t imagine Xavier offers a dental plan.” I’d moved in with all the grace and agility Tommy had afforded me and pierced that mangy beast’s temple, scrambling his brains like I’d used an egg beater. Blood sprayed out as if it were under high pressure, which I guess it was. Brain burst out, a mini geyser spurting from the side of his head as he hit the dirt. I had hoped that the third werewolf, after seeing two of his comrades fail miserably, would have turned tail and fled. He either lacked the empathy to care about them or the wit to realize his life was in danger. He swiped for my head again, luckily missing; not sure my brain could take another collision with the side of my skull. Instead, I gave him a stigmata, stabbing right through his palm. When he jerked his hand away, he took my pointy stick with it, ripped right from my hands, and all I had to show for it was a two-inch long splinter embedded deep into my own palm. It hurt like hell but I didn’t have time to dwell on that, as my first priority was getting the fuck out of the way as he shook his hand violently up and down trying to get the small javelin out of there.

  Not sure what werewolf curses sound like, but I was positive I was hearing a litany of them. I could have left at this point and he would have never noticed, he was so intent on getting that barb out. Instead, because I wasn’t using my head, I picked up a decent sized rock. Sometimes after I do something, even I have to scratch my head and wonder why. I heaved that rock at his cranium, it collided with his forearm on an upswing. Of all the things I’d done thus far today to this beast and his friends, this seemed to be the one thing that pissed him off the most. He looked at me like I had pushed his suckling face away from his mother’s teat and had placed myself there in his stead. He thundered towards me, his arms outstretched, his face pulled back in a mask of rage. He was still trying to shake the damn spear loose, making it an added hazard I needed to avoid. This was one of those times you kind of feel like there just may be someone in your corner. Either that or the world is just a really fucked up place with a cruel sense of humor. Lefty took a mean swipe at me and when I ducked he missed and plunged that spear almost a foot straight into his own chest cavity. I mean, you can’t make this shit up. Maybe what was even funnier was that he was mean mugging me like I’d done it.

  “Hate to tell you this, pal, but this one is pretty much on you.” I waited until he took his final gasps before placing my boot on his gut and yanking free my micro-spear. There wasn’t much left to it, but it beat the alternative. “On the road again,” I sang with more than a little pissed off tone to my voice. I was completely friggen’ sick of running to and away from things. Maybe I should start calling this the Jogger’s Journal, or the Running Writer, Mad-Dash Magazine? Quick Quarterly, perhaps? Hey, don’t judge me. I had a lot of time on my hands. Of course, I’d lost some of it since I’d had to stop and fight Xavier’s lackeys. And then what? I mean really? Xavier had already completely handed me my ass. What was I going to do on my own, with hardly anything more than a short, pointy stick, a dog, and a bad attitude? All I knew, no, all I gave a shit about, was that they had my friend and I was going to die trying to get him back. The fact that he made a great brew weighed heavily in his favor for me going to get him under such circumstances. But let’s be honest, it gets progressively harder in life to make friends, especially when you’re in the neighborhood of two hundred years old. Plus, I mean, I’m an asshole, there are not many people that want to be around me. So yeah, there’s that.

  I don’t know if I was gaining on Xavier’s retreat or he was getting more paranoid. Up ahead, though, were five werewolves. I guess he figured if I got past three it would still be a lot harder getting past five. The better question though, was how in the hell was he getting them to stay put? Wasn’t like they were well-trained dogs. I stopped and looked for an alternate route that wouldn’t involve me getting eviscerated. I’m smart like that. Would have been even smarter like that if I’d done my scoping of a new route off-route, if you know what I mean. It was at that exact moment I was spotted, standing right in the middle of the road, and a howl of the hunt was given. The other four turned in unison, ready to attack. There was a bull rush to see who would get the choicest parts of me. You know, those Grade A Prime slabs of meat. I looked to the woods and truly thought about hauling ass, and then, you know what happened? A fucking miracle. Yeah, that’s about the best way I could put it.

  I’m not saying the sky split open and the archangels Michael and Gabriel came to fight by my side, but close enough. The world turned, and with that came the setting of the offending moon. Five werewolves barreled towards me, in the blink of an eye, they became two males, two females, and a filthy thing whose sex I could not determine. They stopped suddenly, about midway. They had varying looks of confusion, anger, and fright on their faces. I don’t know what would have been worse, not thinking at all about what was about to happen or thinking about it and proceeding anyway. There was not an iota of hesitation on my part as I moved towards the group. One of the females turned and ran just as I shoved that stick deep into the belly of one that I guessed was male. With the amount of hair still on its body, it was difficult to tell. Lack of breasts seemed to be the only indication. I butchered those four monsters-in-waiting in under a minute.

  I don’t know what people from my time would have thought about what I’d done. Would Tracy have offered them a stay of execution? I don’t think so; these were reluctant combatants that was for sure, but make no mistake, they were combatants. If I’d known with certainty back in my Marine Corps days that a suicide bomber was heading to his destination to get fitted for a bomb, I’d gladly rid him of the life he was so desperate to lose before he could hurt or kill others. I was doing the exact same thing here. In thirty days, they’d be back with Xavier and being led somewhere to kill someone and I would not have the blood of one more fucking innocent on my hands, not if I had any chance to stop it. I was an efficient killing machine as I severed arteries and snapped necks without pause. I’d expected some sort of resistance, and might have felt a little more justified in my actions, had I received some. Oh, there were pleas for mercy and cries of anguish, but I would offer them no quarter. That’s how it would have been for me less than two minutes before.

  When it was over, I’d hardly broken a sweat. Birds chirped in the trees above and around me. Leaves lazily drifted down from their lofty perches. The sun had turned its brightness towards us. Crickets made crickety noises. Basically, what I’m saying is that the world went on, as indifferent to what had just happened here as if I’d skipped a stone across the top of a calm pond surface; a few ripples later and it’s smooth again. The only one that would give half a shit was me, and I didn’t. What’s that say about me and my psyche? I began my trotting again; I’d all but forgotten the six I’d laid to waste so far when I came up on my next group; there were ten this time, like a progressively more difficult gauntlet laid in my path. Dirty, broken, scarred, scared, retches stared at me. Xavier had to know that by the time I got to them they’d be back in their original form. Then why bother? Unless this was his way of trying to mind-fuck me. Would I kill people? Or just werewolves?

  Definitely in his realm of tricks, he’d been around long enough to know that people care for their own kind more so than Lycan care for theirs. Did he think I would stop and offer those poor, lost souls some help? Or maybe he just figured I’d lose the stomach for fighting. I was about ten feet from them, a sheen of sweat covering my body from the exertion of running. The thought of shredding them apart actually quickened my blood. But what would be gained? They posed no threat and I would lose time wiping them out.

  “If you value the life you are clinging to, get the fuck off the path and run. Run far.” I started moving again, shouldered roughly through two people, sending them spiraling sideways, and then I was gone. It wasn’t long afterwards that I realized I was fast approaching the remnants of Talboton. Somewhere along the line, Xavier had curved back around. I should have figured this was where he’d end up. Of
course, he would want to return triumphantly to his little home away from home. I was careful. Okay, so we both know that’s a lie, but I did sort of scope the place out before I went charging in. I’ve always been more the type to deal with consequences rather than worry about taking action—a “sin now and pay later” approach. That way, when it’s all said and done, you can still look back on whatever crazy fucking thing you did with a smile and say “Yeah I fucking did that —and I’m still alive!” Just about the worst philosophy in life, but hey, I adopted it a long time ago and I don’t see myself changing anytime soon. I cautiously entered the township limits. The stench of rotten flesh permeated the entire area. There were no blazing fires, but there were many smoldering ruins, plumes of wispy smoke emerging from ashen piles.

  Teeth-scored bones littered the ground. This was far from the worst of it. Apparently Lycan weren’t keen on barbacoa meat. Discarded heads lay all around me, their faces frozen in fear, terror, pain and anguish, the loss of hope deeply etched in the landscape of each countenance. I wanted to pretend a bowling alley had blown up and the heads were balls and the bones, pins. Sort of worked. I mean, the smell was similar to traditional bowling alley food. A realization hit me as I tried to not step on any remains. This had been a feast. Xavier was trying to keep his people in line and the best way to do that was through their stomachs. But how long could he afford to do this? He was either killing or eating people faster than the stock could replenish. What is it about a dominant species that makes them want to rape and pillage their limited resources? Is that how superiority is determined? By being able to take more than you need? I kicked a head, much like those early Mayans did when they were inventing soccer. I didn’t mean to, I was just so pissed off at it all. How could any good game come out of smacking heads around?

  My foot sank right into the disintegrating flesh. I pulled out my boot with a horrible sucking sound and the thing rolled for a good ten feet. Naturally, it was a foregone conclusion that the face would end up staring back at me in accusation; I felt like I should get a red card.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled to it. I did a quick three-sixty, the only eyes on me were Wilson’s—the grotesque soccer ball. Xavier was not here. He was on the move; I needed to follow, but I also needed something more betterer (yeah, I know it’s shitty English, I don’t really give a shit) than a weapon hardly bigger than a honed popsicle stick. I had to hope the armory was still stocked and I also had to hope I could get past whatever voodoo Azile had placed upon it. Also needed to get past my unnatural fear of the evil I’d released within the confines of that small tunnel. Whether they were external or internal demons, I was petrified of that place. I took in a few deep breaths and made my way behind the main structure of the compound and to the woods. The Lycan sentry there was just as surprised to see me as I was her. She was tearing off the last few tasty morsels from a femur when I came into her view.

  She looked up, a large grin revealed her massive teeth. She seemed to be pretty pleased that she was going to be able to continue eating. There was some hesitation and confusion when she saw that, unlike hundreds of others I’m sure she’d encountered, I was not running. I let my eyes do a quick scan. I asked aloud what I was thinking.

  “Are you alone?” I was pretty surprised when she answered.

  “We are together. You and I,” she said. “And soon what is apart will be one.”

  “Did you just get all philosophical on me? Oh I get it, it’s because you think you’re going to eat me and I’ll be in your stomach.” My words were lighthearted but the situation was serious. I got into a fighting stance, trying to show just how big and intimidating I was while simultaneously making a smaller target. It failed on both counts.

  “I will weep for those that have the misfortune of stumbling upon your refuse!” She was approaching, albeit cautiously.

  “That a shit joke? It was, wasn’t it? At some point my eternally extended existence has to end, but it’s not going to be by passing through the anus of a bitch wolf.”

  She paused.

  “Wait. You didn’t know that I am an Old One?” I laughed, trying to put as carefree a tone on it as possible, though I was fairly convinced at some point I’d swallowed my Adam’s apple. “That big stupid nose of yours couldn’t smell me a mile off? Well, this is slightly embarrassing, awkward, almost.” I was circling. She’d actually stopped and looked to the side. She was looking for an exit strategy. There was a chance I could get out of this without a fight, and right now I’d welcome that. She was slightly smaller than male Lycan, but she still dwarfed me. Or little people, whatever the correct fucking politically correct terminology is.

  Her massive head swiveled toward me, her eyes narrowed. “You are afraid.”

  “That? That you fucking smell? You don’t catch the scent of me born from the damnation of the underworld, yet you do, the stink I make because I’m slightly anxious regarding our impending confrontation? If you could stay away from my head I’d really appreciate it...been getting whacked around a lot lately, and I know it’s not great, but it’s all I’ve got. I lose this,” I swirled my hand all around my face, “and the ladies stop coming around.”

  “I could once again be in Xavier’s good graces if I bring him the head of the thorn in his paw.”

  “What’s wrong, sweet cheeks? You not much into doggie style?” I almost fucking lost it right there and then. I knew it was a juvenile remark, but it was so funny…basically because she’s a dog, get it? Look, don’t give me that shit. It was a classic sixth-grade level insult. Maybe I’m an uncouth slob but I thought it was hilarious.

  Maybe she didn’t like me laughing at her; obviously I’d hit too close to home because I’d definitely pushed the wrong button. That should not come as a shocker to anyone. Yes, she was Lycan, but more importantly, she was female. There was unbridled fury as she charged. It was more reflexive on my part than anything else; I stepped to the side while bringing up my spear point, I buried that thing a good six inches into her right breast, pretty much all I had. Whether the force of her charge, or the angle and strength of my stance combined forces but I shattered her chest plate and plunged the barb straight into her miserable little heart. Within the span of ten beats of my own heart, she took two staggering strides forward, fell to her knees; and hit the ground face first.

  Sometimes it really is just that easy to kill something. No rhyme or reason. I have mercilessly clobbered opponents in war for seemingly hours yet they just wouldn’t die. Others, you look at them a little funny and they keel over. I was completely fine with this being a one-sided affair for once. Been getting beaten down lately, so score one for the home team. I’d say “good guys” but I’m not entirely sure which team I play for these days. Basically, I’m looking out for myself and my friends. With some muscle effort, I rolled the beast over. Her fall had driven what was left of my spear almost all the way through so that what was left sticking out looked more like a warty growth rather than somebody’s weapon.

  “That’s fine—you keep it.” I headed towards the access door not even caring if I was going to meet up with another surprise. Foul air whistled past me, haunted by the spirits of those I had killed. At least, that was how it felt to me.

  * * *

  You ready for this, Mike?

  Absolutely not.

  At least you’re honest.

  Yeah, I’ve still got that going for me.

  I’d not taken two steps in when the door behind me crashed closed. My first thought was not that I’d been discovered by Lycan but rather that I was to be entombed under the earth, forever plunged in darkness. Penance to be paid for all the ills I’d committed during my time under the sun. I started sucking air like it might be my last breath. Then I stopped panicking like a fifth-grader about to give an oral report in front of the entire school and reached back to grasp the knob to reopen the door. It was only the wind that had sealed me...I mean closed the door. A fucking wicked, nasty, devious, wind, but just the wind nonetheless.
I got out of there fairly quickly, searched the ground a little longer than I needed to and finally found a twenty-pound chunk of timber. If the door closed despite that tree trunk propping it open, I was pretty much screwed.

  “You ready to do this again?” I told myself to fuck off. Message received, I charged back in. The air was a little fresher, more cemetery-like instead of crypt-ish. It’s all a matter of degrees. The angle of the sun was actually working in my favor, lighting a significant portion of the hallway in front of me. No matter how hard I stared straight at where I knew the vault door was, I could not see it. I tried sidelong glances; I tried feeling for it by touch, nothing. It was only when I shook my head back and forth that I could catch just the faintest glimpse of it right on the periphery. And I was skeptical; it seemed to be more wishful than substantial. I started to feel like I was a character in one of those scary movies I avoided watching way back when. You know the kind, well maybe not, if you’re reading this in the day and age of no movies. But trust me, creeps could move with a speed that was otherworldly. Gave the impression of one possessed or dead or maybe both, hence the reasons why I never liked those particular types of movies. I enjoyed movies where things blew up on a massive scale, thousands of rounds were fired from dozens of machine guns, yet miraculously, nobody was ever struck—at least not the heroes. Yup. Those were my kind of shows. But I digress.