End of an Age

by Mark Tufo

  Tasted like you would expect lice and flea coated fur would. Xavier howled in pain as he twisted to get at me, but I’d already darted past, dragging my sword along his back, thankful for the razor blade honed on its edge as it sliced him from side to side. I’d inflicted damage but he was far from out of the fight. He twisted back; I ran headlong into another strike. Air was violently expelled from my lungs as I absorbed the hit. Felt like my chest plate had been compressed enough to touch my spine. I was airborne, a flying V as my head was nearly touching my knees. I landed hard on my ass, expelling what little oxygen I had left. There was a moment of panic when my body realized I had no air and could not get any of that life giving gas into me.

  The panic was compounded as Xavier had already launched himself at me again. I forced my muscles that screamed for oxygen to move the way I needed them to. Xavier’s eyes grew wide as he saw the blade come up. He twisted in mid-flight, heavy globules of blood from his arm struck across my chest and face. I was bathed in the wet drops, the heat was intense enough I wondered if perhaps they were acidic. The point of the sword pierced Xavier’s left thigh, punching through and out, his momentum allowed me to slice a slab of muscle from his leg. He went over and rolled into a ball. Fury and pain warred on his features as his paws wrapped around the wound.

  My vision was narrowing as my compacted chest struggled to expand. I winced and wheezed like a geriatric asthma patient with a fatal case of COPD. A kid with a bad disposition and a pea shooter could have taken out Xavier and myself and not broken a sweat. I waited for a murderous claw to strike from somewhere or maybe Lana to stick a sword straight into Xavier’s eye socket. Neither of those things happened as I fought to suck in more air; it was like drinking through a pinched straw. I stood on wobbly legs gulping at the air like a landed fish. My chest was awash in pain. He’d certainly broken another rib and with the endeavor it was taking to breathe I’d not be surprised if he’d collapsed a lung.

  “Serves you right, asshole,” I said in a tortured whisper. A London broil sized piece of meat slid through Xavier’s right hand as he tried to hold his thigh muscle in place. I was swaying, using the sword as a cane to keep me upright. I noticed a couple of things as I stood: the first was the quiet. I could hear my ragged breathing but that was about it. The stranger part was that Lycan and people alike were standing, sometimes side by side. Watching, watching me, watching Xavier, waiting to see how this all played out, like we were the main event. I didn’t know what the hell they were doing. If Xavier won he was going to keep the fight going and if I won I was going to advocate killing all the Lycan. Seemed like it would be business as usual no matter who came out on top. My head was swimming as I struggled to re-oxygenate my blood.

  I saw an out of focus Azile standing next to Lunos. Bailey cradling Muncher’s head in her lap. Lana urging me on. It sure did look like she was screaming, yet none of the sound was being processed in my head. I was punch drunk. Xavier was now forcing himself from the ground. I knew it would be better off for me if he didn’t make it, but there was little I could do to prevent it. I don’t think if someone had hit me with a sledgehammer it could have been any worse. Why would no one kill him? Fuck it—why would no one kill me? I pulled in a sliver of air that a mouse would have suffocated on. I was taking rapid sips, hoping it would be enough to stave off unconsciousness. Xavier, for the countless injuries he had, looked better than I did, though he could put no weight on his left leg. He was content to wait for me to bring the fight to him. Right now, that was perfectly fine. Wanted to tell him I’d be there a week from Tuesday; that I’d pencil it in on my calendar, but I couldn’t speak.

  Pain flared from my chest as I tried to take in a larger dose of breath. Xavier hopped one large step forward as I doubled over. I thought I was going to pass out as I forced myself to stand, thus halting Xavier’s forward progress. A steady stream of blood was flowing from his grievous injury, his fur was plastered in it. “Just die, for god’s sake,” I thought, could have been addressed to either of us, really. I was feeling better by degrees as we stood there and Xavier must have known that as I grew stronger he was growing weaker. He forced the issue by dropping down onto all fours. There were sounds from the Lycan around us, jeers or cheers, I could not tell, I assume it was a mixture of both. What happened next I wanted to blame on a brain that was struggling to work on quarter rations. Xavier’s rear legs shortened, the claws on his front and back paws retracted, not completely, but they were no longer dagger sized. His paws, which normally had some human features, regressed to something more completely canine.

  His spine curved up and brought his head with it. He’d moved into a form more in line with his lupine relatives. He was definitely more terrifying in this shape. Advantage swung heavily back his way. As a biped with one leg his movement was severely hampered, but as a quadruped with three good legs he’d easily navigate around the handicap. He was circling. Large fangs exposed as he snarled and snapped. Long ribbons of saliva hung from his jaw. His front digits sank into the spongy earth. He was preparing to strike; I did the best I could in preparation for the hit. That basically meant I turned to the side to give him a smaller target. His shoulder struck my hip and spun me twice around. He’d tried to control his landing but had inadvertently put weight on his damaged leg. He broke out in a high-pitched yelp. Had he been able to plant and turn like he’d wanted to he would have torn me in two with those brutal jaws.

  I’d not been able to adjust my sword as the flat of the blade hit him in his flanks. I’d struck hard enough to incite a large angry red welt, but I wasn’t trying to give him a spanking for being a bad dog. He’d turned so fast it was long seconds before my mind could catch up to the excruciating pain traveling up the length of my arm. One of his canines had bitten through my jacket, deep enough to scrape against the bone. I yanked away, the sword falling from my hand. With my left I was reaching for my axe. Xavier was advancing; I was blindly backing up. To even slightly turn to see where I was going would permit a deadly strike from the monster. I had to keep my blade up and in between us. I wanted to change hands but I was not confident in my ability to hold on to the weapon. He’d torn something vital to the proper working of my fingers.

  He was getting a little too close for comfort and I let him know by swinging the axe. I nicked his nose, shearing off the very top. Unlike dogs, who do not have tear ducts, his eyes watered heavily. There was no moment of thought before my actions—I just acted. I brought my arm back and was going to plant the head of my axe deep into his brain cavity. Xavier must have sensed this. Just as I was about to make contact, his front paw knocked my legs out from under me. Instead of crushing his fucking skull, I glanced across his mouth, snapping a few of his teeth as I did so. He batted me away like a petulant cat to a disliked ball of yarn. My broken rib swam around my chest, every once in a while scraping against my deflated lung. The pain was intense but it helped to forge my resolve. I dug my feet into the ground. Much like Xavier I found myself on all fours, looking directly at the beast as he came at me. I shifted just enough that his jaw closed on the air where my head had been.

  He lunged and hit me like a ton of bricks, bowling me over. We slid for at least fifteen feet, with him on top of me. My body was being battered and bruised from rock and root. When we finally came to a rest, I’d slid down his body some. My mouth right next to his neck, I let go of my axe and gripped his head fur on either side as best I could, pulling myself tight, I sank my fangs deeply into his carotid artery. His head shook back and forth, violently twisting and striking me. He howled, yelped, wailed, and screamed. He bounded off, hoping to shake me loose. He crashed down, bearing all of his weight on me. Still I held, still I drank, still I fed, still I wrenched that life from him. I brutally and sadistically pulled that mystical force he so richly did not deserve away from him. Fiercely and ferociously he defended that right to stay alive.

  He rolled his body, he transformed back into a full Lycan so he would have better use of h
is hands. Heavy claws pierced my sides and still I viciously clung to him. He beat his paws against his chest like King Kong. My body absorbed the blows like a punching bag.

  “NO!” he screamed. “This cannot be!” He’d hooked an arm around my side and finally pulled me free. I came loose like an overfed tick. Blood poured from his neck and from my mouth. His left leg collapsed and he fell, holding his upper half off the ground with his outstretched arms. “I am the Lycan King!”

  I kept an eye on him the whole time as I walked over to grab my axe. He did not move except for his eyes. He might have been dying, but he was still dangerous and those large orbs glowed with intense hatred.

  “Fuck your Lycan,” I said as I bent to grab the axe. “Fuck your monarchy.” I was now walking toward him. “And especially, FUCK YOU!” I was airborne. I struck the side of his neck with so much force, I cleaved the blade halfway through. His head dropped to the side as his body fell the rest of the way to the ground.

  There was a stunned, shocked silence from both sides. The Lycan were in disbelief that Xavier could be bested, and the alliance hadn’t believed I could do it, either. I could barely stand, but I’d be damned if I was going to display even an iota of weakness after my victory. As I looked up from Xavier’s rapidly cooling body, I found myself staring into the calculating eyes of Lunos.

  “How about you?” I asked pointing to him with the axe. “You want to try your luck?”

  Lunos was doing the math in his head. He wasn’t sure just how much I had left to give; had he known, he would have just come at me. Lunos may have been a survivor but he was not a fighter, and he couldn’t order the Lycan because he’d not as of yet established himself as their leader.

  “Perhaps another day, Old One. Perhaps not.” He turned and walked away, the rest of the Lycan said nothing as they did the same and followed him.

  A loud cheer arose from the remaining people. Sure, we’d suffered great losses, but maybe we wouldn’t lose any more, maybe the horror was finally over. I’d like to end this journal with that passage, but it just wouldn’t be true. Azile said nothing as she found a place to sit me down so she could tend to my wounds. Oggie made his way over to me, he made sure we had direct contact, though he did not insist that I pet him. He’d come to comfort me this time.

  “Muncher?” I asked, after she’d made me swallow some caustic brew designed to dissolve your innards or ease the pain, if you were wont to believe her.

  “No,” she shook her head.

  “He saved my life. I am not worthy of that sacrifice.” I had tears in my eyes and it wasn’t because she’d placed my nose in the palms of her hands and adjusted it so it would set properly. I don’t know if she’d forgotten that the vampire half of me would take care of that problem eventually or if she just wanted her hands to be busy.

  “There is not a person here, including myself that would not have given their life for yours,” she said.

  “I don’t want that, Azile. I’ve never wanted that.”

  “I know, I know.” She kissed my forehead, maybe the only place on me not covered in grime. The people around me seemed to move in a speed much faster than my own as I slowed time down to reflect on all that was gained compared to what had been lost. The scale was very much tipped against us.

  Mathieu came over, he looked to Azile. Her head shook imperceptibly. “Hello, my friend.”

  “I’m glad you made it,” I told him. “I don’t have enough friends that I can afford to lose another.”

  “You trusted in me when no one else did. That is a remembrance and a debt to you I will never forget.” I was confused when he walked away quickly, I might have heard a sob escape his lips.

  After a time, a saddened Bailey came over to see how I was doing. She tenderly kissed my lips. “I have never been more proud to be a Talbotonian.”

  Even the effervescent Lana looked deflated, though she tried her best to not let me see that part of her. In the end she wept openly as she held my hand. I don’t know who she’d lost that had her so torn up and just then I didn’t have the strength to ask. Her shoulders shook as she walked away. Mathieu wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Azile did all manner of surgeries and had me drink an abundance of concoctions, by the time she was done, night was pressing in on us.

  “I’d like to go home now,” I told her as she laid me down under the stars

  “Soon, my love,” she said as her tears fell on my cheeks and my eyes closed.

  It did appear that we were coming to the end of an age, and I was fine with that.

  24

  EPILOGUE 1

  “WELL, YOU REALLY went and did it this time, Mr. T,” Tommy said. We found ourselves back at the precipice. Sitting at the edge actually, feet dangling over like we didn’t have a care in the world. And maybe as far as the world was concerned, we didn’t. Either the lighting in this strange place was too murky or we were in a spot where the chasm was wider. I could not see the other side no matter how hard I peered.

  I was remarkably calm even though I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. “What happens now?” I asked him, I looked for a rock to throw into the void. The ground or platform or whatever the hell we found ourselves on was featureless. Flat and as devoid of character as Florida.

  “This is pretty much it.”

  “Where’s the purgatory with all the wanderers? Or do you dislike crowds as much as I do? Is this, like, purgatory boondocks? Is there such a thing?”

  He smiled.

  “That’s not much of an answer.”

  “I don’t have much of one to give, Mr. T.”

  “I think I’ve finally slipped over the edge. Dementia has taken hold, sprouted wings and taken off in all its magnificent glory. If I squint I can probably see it fly by overhead.” I shielded my eyes and took a gander just because. No need to squint, the light, which was plentiful, if muted, was everywhere, though there was no source that I could tell.

  “There are no physical ailments here.”

  “Oh great, just the mental ones. Perfect. I get to relish in my psychoses for all time. This should be fun. What happens if I just scooch my ass forward, say a foot, and I fall off into this yonder gaping wide hole?”

  Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it. Though I have been thinking about it lately.”

  “Are you a construct of my mind that I’ve created to shield myself from going insane?”

  “We’ve gone over this territory before, Mr. T., I tried to prove it to you previously but you wouldn’t believe me. Kept saying that you could have made everything up and planted it into my mouth.”

  “Yeah, that sounds a lot like me. But are you real?”

  “How about, I’m as real as you are.”

  “Better on one level, I suppose. Again, not an answer.”

  “How about this,” he turned so we were looking at each other, “if you could summon anyone in that head of yours, would it be me?”

  “Damn, hadn’t thought of it like that. Sorry, Tommy I love you kiddo, but if I had the ability to bring people to me it would be every one that I cared for, not just you.”

  “That’s all I’m saying.” He turned back

  We sat in reflective silence; could have been five minutes, could have been five centuries. Nothing changed to offer any sort of indication of time elapsing. One moment was as identical as the next. I looked over to Tommy, he’d paled considerably. He was beginning to take on a translucent quality. I shook his shoulder. He seemed solid enough. I might be nucking futs but the idea that I could fabricate touch seemed beyond even my insanity. “Hey!” I shouted when he initially paid no attention to my poking him.

  “You’re fading!” he said with alarm. As we became aware of each other, we began to regain substance in each other’s eyes. Personally, I hadn’t seen myself as vanishing and neither had Tommy; it was only our own perception of the other that was affecting us.

  “What the hell was that all about?” This place we’d foun
d ourselves in was abysmal; the thought of going it alone was unfathomable.

  “We were withdrawing into ourselves. The further you are into yourself, the less you are to others.”

  “Tommy, that shit is terrifying. I thought that basement was as alone as one could get but right now I am realizing just how much life I was surrounded by then. But this place...” I shuddered. He understood; he’d been here a lot longer than I. “So...I mean, so what do we do now? Do we have to talk to each other continually to keep from disintegrating? It would be fine if you were a woman...you could take care of like, what, ninety-eight percent of the conversation.”

  That got a smile out of Tommy, which was a lot considering where we were. “Somehow I think you could find a way to get us into trouble, even here.”

  “Come on, maybe we should walk around for a while. See what they’ve done with the neighborhood.” It took a few minutes of convincing but he finally stood and we turned our backs to the large gouge in the otherwise unbroken landscape. “Now this is okay, so hear me out, it should not at all affect my man-card status. Give me your hand.” Tommy did as I asked. I gripped that thing tight. “We’re going to walk holding hands. I adopted you, so you’re my son and right now I’m totally convinced my son needs the comfort of his father’s hand.”

  “And does the father need the comfort of the son’s hand?” he asked.

  “That goes without saying. Of course this is more for me than you.”

  “You’re one of the best fathers I’ve ever had.”

  “I, um, met your first father. That’s not saying a whole bunch.”

  He said nothing, but again the smile returned.

  “Fucking with me? Nice. Have you checked out the new restaurant on Forty-Eighth Street? I heard they make an incredible bagel breakfast sandwich.”

  “It’s almost dinner time; I don’t want eggs. How about Lowrie’s on Forty-Second? Pricey, but they have incredible steaks.”