SNAFU: Wolves at the Door: An Anthology of Military Horror

by James A. Moore

  Scott closed his eyes behind the blindfold and prayed as hard as he ever had. His fears about Allison and the baby grew worse instead of better.

  Eric was quiet beside him, but the tension coming off of him was palpable. Neither of them spoke until the vehicle finally stopped.

  When they were led from the car and their blindfolds were removed, they looked around in the blustering veil of snow and saw only one house, a large affair with three stories and a fireplace that was burning. They also saw the for sale sign in the front yard, though it was half buried under snow.

  The men led them to the door, and knocked softly. A moment later the door was opened by another stranger, who looked around and then nodded his head and let them pass.

  Eric smiled for the first time since he’d shown up, just as soon as he saw Sarah and his twin sons. Lance and Tyler looked up from the Disney movie they were watching in the model home, and let out squeals of joy even as they rose from in front of the 32-inch television. Twin bullets of flesh launched themselves at their father and he caught them silently, pulling them up to the level of his face, one on each arm, and hugging them. It was practically a miracle he didn’t crush his sons from enthusiasm alone.

  Sarah stood and looked at him for several seconds, shocked to see him. Sarah was not what Scott had ever expected when it came to his high school chum. She had short brown hair and a body that hadn’t quite sprung back from giving birth to the twins. Scott would have expected his friend to marry a cheerleader type, because they were all he ever fell for when they were both younger. Instead Eric had married a woman who was moderately attractive and almost as tall as he was. She also had a brain and was at least as opinionated on every subject as her husband.

  If her sons were energetic in their reunion with their father, she was more reserved, but no less happy to see him. She walked calmly to where he was and stared into his eyes like he was the most important thing in the world. Aside from the children they shared, Scott had to guess that was the absolute truth of the matter.

  He was happy for Eric. He was happy for his friend’s family. He wished every joy and good moment for his friend that the world could provide. He also wanted to see his wife.

  While Eric was hugging his family and listening to the three most wonderful voices that could exist in his world, Scott looked around to see if Allison was in the room and saw only the Spartan furnishings and a total of ten strangers standing around.

  “Where’s Allison?” He spoke, but the words didn’t travel far. He couldn’t seem to catch enough breath for that.

  The Viking came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Allison is fine, Mr Lassiter.” His voice was soft, pleasant now that the growl had left it. “But there were complications.”

  * * *

  Roland walked slightly ahead of the younger man, his grief almost enough to overwhelm him.

  Scott Lassiter was an innocent in all of this, and his wife, Allison was even more of an innocent. He didn’t know them and didn’t need to know them to feel bad for their involvement in his personal war.

  They moved to the back of the house, with Lassiter almost whining in the back of his throat. The man was worried, terrified of what might have gone wrong.

  Three of the women who’d been left to watch over their guests were in the master bedroom with Allison, tending to her needs as they entered the room.

  The woman lay on her back, sweating, and crying softly as the labor pains continued.

  Scott Lassiter shoved past him and moved to his wife’s side, dropping to his knees at the sight of her. The baby was coming now and there was nothing that could be done to stop what had been started. He hoped for the sake of the couple now reunited that the birth would bring a healthy child, but he had his doubts.

  He was still well connected with the local people and he’d made a phone call already to get an ambulance to them, but the storm was growing worse and there were so many accidents on the road that he worried more than he would have expected.

  Lassiter looked at him for a moment and then turned back to his wife.

  Allison Lassiter bit her lip and moaned as she arched her back; another contraction and this one was apparently worse than most of the others.

  “I’ve called for an ambulance, Mr Lassiter. I have to be honest, the chances aren’t very good for one getting here any time soon.”

  Lassiter looked at him again, this time his anger showing clearly through the confusion and worry. The man stood and walked away from his wife, bristling with the need to do something about her situation and his own growing fury.

  “She shouldn’t be here, mister. She should be at home, or in a hospital.”

  “I agree.” He shook his head. “I am truly sorry for this, Mr Lassiter. I can’t apologize enough.”

  “No, you can’t.” He moved closer, looking up into Roland’s eyes. “There’s no way you can apologize enough. Especially if my wife or my child dies because of this.”

  That hurt. That hurt a lot. He wasn’t much of one to feel guilt very often, but the situation was entirely his fault. If he’d gotten the facts from Loman instead of getting dramatic, he could have spared them all a great deal of trouble. Instead, he’d dragged the woman in the bed and the man in front of him into this nonsense.

  Lassiter jammed a finger into his chest with enough force to actually sting. “What makes you any better than my friends if they die? Tell me that.”

  Roland leaned down, his teeth bared, his nostrils flaring and his blood pressure rising. “I’m trying to make amends for my actions, Lassiter. They never did.”

  “How can you make amends for this, you son of a bitch?” It wasn’t often that anyone, man or wolf man, stood up to him.

  Roland looked around the room and then walked over to the window. The snow was falling harder than ever and didn’t look like it intended to stop in the next few hours.

  He looked to Susan, his wife and one of the women attending to Lassiter’s wife and she looked back, communicating that the chances for the baby were not good without a medical team.

  Roland nodded his understanding and began taking off his clothes.

  “What are you doing?” Lassiter was looking at him like he’d lost his mind somewhere along the way.

  “I’m going to keep your wife and son safe, Mr Lassiter.”

  The transformation was as painful as ever, but he stifled the urge to howl. Lassiter, who’d only seen John earlier in the diner, had apparently forgotten exactly what he was dealing with. The change left him stunned for a moment.

  Roland stepped past him and moved to the bed. Allison Lassiter stared at him in complete horror, and he leaned in closer. “I’m going to take you to the hospital,” He spoke as clearly as he could, moving his lips in ways that felt completely wrong when he was in his hybrid state. “Do not panic and do not struggle. I will not hurt you.”

  She stared at him for several seconds. They’d met and spoken a few times and while she’d been upset with being taken, she had never been stupid about it. Finally she nodded her head and waited.

  Lassiter moved to intercept and both Susan and her sister Laura blocked him.

  Without another word — there were several coming from Scott Lassiter — Roland picked the woman up and carried her from the room. The hallway and living room were full of his brethren, and he made his intentions known. John came with him and called for another member of the pack to join them. John changed without bothering to strip down. This wasn’t a time for decorum and it wasn’t a time to worry about a pair of jeans. The other started disrobing and changed his mind when he saw John split out of his skin and then impatiently tear away the remains of his old flesh and his wardrobe.

  The woman in his arms cried out in pain again and Roland left the building, starting to run the second he was outside.

  The hospital was only a few miles away if they chose to take the roads. Roland cut through the back yard of the house and started through the woods, already knowing better w
ays to handle the obstacles nature put before them.

  * * *

  Eric set his sons down and hugged Sarah to him, incapable of speaking for several moments. Through all of his time in the Middle East, through every combat situation he’d gone into and survived, the main reason he longed to come back home was now in front of him. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was invincible. He never once went into a combat situation with delusions of being a hero and saving the world. He went in thinking about his wife, his sons and their lives together.

  When he thought they might be dead, a part of his mind shut down like a child holding his breath to get what he wants.

  For the first time in a week, he could feel his mind breathe.

  “Did they hurt you?” He asked the question because he had to. Sarah looked fine and so did the children, but he had to know. Looks could be deceiving, after all.

  “No. They just… took us. They haven’t been anything but kind aside from keeping us here.” She looked into his eyes and tried to read whatever he might have stored behind them. “Eric, what’s going on here?”

  “It’s a mistake. They thought Scott and me were involved in something. They wanted to make sure we showed up, so they took you and the boys and they took his wife.”

  “Eric, I don’t think she’s doing well. She’s back there trying to have a baby and I don’t think she’s ready. From what she told me, she’s not due for another couple of months.”

  Before Eric could answer, one of the werewolves came through the door from the back room, carrying Allison. Eric knew her, of course, had known her since high school for Christ’s sake and seeing her held in the arms of a monster was enough to jolt him.

  “What the hell?” He started moving forward and two of the men in the room shook their heads at him. Another two stopped and did their non-verbal communication thing with the beast carrying Allison and then almost immediately began changing.

  Sarah turned without a word and distracted both of the boys, hugging them and talking to them as she maneuvered them away from being able to see what was occurring.

  The two that had spoken with their leader walked toward the front door and began changing as they moved. By the time they were out the door and moving into the storm they’d left piles of dead skin and clothing in their wakes.

  Scott came out of the back of the house, his face tense with worry, ready to storm after them if he had to.

  It was Eric who intercepted him and pulled him to the side. He asked what was up and Scott explained.

  “Look, there’s nothing you can do right now, Scott. If they wanted to hurt her they would have by now.” He kept his voice as calm and level as he could, and low enough that the boys wouldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “I know that,” Scott hissed. “But I mean it, Eric. If they let her die or our baby die, I’ll come back for them.”

  Eric said nothing. He was already trying to figure out how they were going to really get out of all of this alive.

  He wanted to believe the monsters around them would keep their word about setting them free, but he had his doubts. He hadn’t seen Mark’s kids or the woman George was now living with. That left him worried. Very worried.

  He looked to Sarah and his sons and tried to remain calm. There was nothing he could do about their current situation except be grateful that his family was alive and unharmed.

  His number-one priority was making sure they stayed that way.

  * * *

  What had started as freezing rain and moved into snow had now become a blizzard. The thick layer of white that dropped from the sky blanketed damned near everything.

  George woke up in the middle of the woods, sheltered by the remains of what looked like a church. He hadn’t really thought he’d wake up at all, so it was a night for surprises.

  The cold sucked at his vitality, leeched away his will to do anything but sit and shiver. Outside of his shelter he heard the wind screaming through the trees. Not far away in the darkness of the abandoned building, he could hear someone moaning.

  That was what got him to move. He recognized the sound of Cullie’s voice.

  He tried to stand and heard himself moan at the pain it caused. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t feel like it had been beaten hard and kicked a few times for extra measure. Still, he had to see what was going on with Cullie.

  He moved toward the dark lump on the ground a few feet away and tried to see clearly in the darkness brought on by the storm. The thing sounded like Cullie, made noises that should have come from his friend, but it wasn’t Cullie. It couldn’t be. Cullie had skin.

  His hands and feet still wore flesh, as did his face. The rest of his body had been stripped raw, and even in the darkness he could see things that simply were not meant to be seen.

  “Oh fuck, what did they do to you?” He blinked back the tears that wanted to fall, refusing to shed a tear for his old friend. He knew what had happened. He knew why it had happened.

  Cullie looked at him with wild eyes, but he didn’t think the man was really seeing him anymore. Despite the bitter chill in the air, the skinned man in front of him gave off heat. He was feverish.

  He let out a small yelp of surprise when he heard Mark’s voice. “I don’t think he can talk. He’s too far gone with whatever else they did to him.”

  George turned around and looked for Mark. It took him a moment to spot his friend. Mark was alive, his wrists and ankles bound in what was left of his own bootlaces. His face had been sliced into fifths, and the red wounds that separated the portions were starting to scab over.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “The big one, their leader, beat me in a fight. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. I don’t know why.” Mark coughed. “Maybe he wants us to freeze to death so it looks like an accident.”

  “If anyone ever finds us out here, I don’t think they’ll make that mistake.”

  Cullie moaned again and fell into a coughing fit. George looked his way and then started untying Mark. There was no way in hell he could offer comfort to a man whose entire body was basically one raw nerve ending. He imagined that any place he touched would just add to his already considerable pain.

  Mark waited patiently while he finished untying him and then started rubbing his wrists, trying to get blood back into hands that looked almost blue even in the darkness.

  While Mark worked on untying his ankles, George dug into his waterproof coat and prayed that the zipper had kept his meager supplies dry. He found the map and, yes, his lighter.

  The lighter worked just fine and even the meager light it offered was enough to let him see that something was written on the map. Mark watched him while he read the message. “’Justice is served. You are free to go.’”

  “Free to go my ass! There’s nowhere to go!” Mark was pissed off. George was still unsettlingly happy to be alive.

  “We’ve got the map. We can find our way back.” He was trying to be reasonable. It wasn’t working as well as he would have liked.

  “What about Cullie? What about Ellen and Lou? Hell, what about your fucking girlfriend, George?”

  He clenched his jaw. “Her name is Cheryl. When we get out of here we’ll figure it all out.”

  Mark was shaking with cold, his clothes half frozen to his body and his feet stripped of everything but a ratty looking pair of socks.

  “I don’t have the answers, Mark. I’m still trying to figure all of this out!” George felt his temper rising and decided not to stop it. He’d had all he could take of Mark and Cullie browbeating him. Jesus! He’d been in a fight with werewolves earlier in the night and now he just wanted to celebrate being alive for five minutes without Mark riding his ass.

  He looked at his watch and was shocked to see it was only a little after eleven PM.

  “Okay, if we’re going to live through this shit, we need a fire.”

  Mark looked his way and then gestured. “There’s a dozen broken pews around here. Let�
�s gather some up.” He limped toward them and George saw the ugly wounds on his leg.

  George killed the flame from the lighter and started gathering wood; mostly small pieces at first, kindling for the larger boards.

  Ten minutes later they had a fire and light and warmth enough to give him a hope of not freezing to death. He also had a dead lighter. The Bic wasn’t meant to last forever and it gave up the ghost by the time they’d managed to get the blaze going.

  “We’ll wait out the storm. When it’s all over with, we’ll try to find our way to somewhere. I saw a road earlier.” He shut his mouth, remembering the cops and the lady he’d seen on that road and how his actions had lead to them being slaughtered. He sighed and told Mark what he could remember. “Maybe there will still be cars there. Maybe we’ll get lucky and have a chance to get out of this.”

  “What about Cullie?” Mark looked over at their friend, who was still shivering violently, his face turned away from the heat.

  “What about him?”

  “We have to get him help. He’s dying.”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do for him, Mark. He’s lost—“ he bit back the nervous voice in his head that started screaming about lost flesh— “he’s lost a lot of blood. Even if we get him out of here, he doesn’t even have a coat. He’ll freeze to death out there.”

  “This is insane.”

  George looked at him for a long time without speaking, as his body started warming up. “Yeah, it is. This is fucked up beyond all repair.”

  “Why didn’t they just kill us?”

  “I don’t know.” That was the end of their conversations for a while. They sat in uncomfortable silence that was broken only by Cullie’s fevered moans and the winds that pushed through the openings and tried to steal what little heat they managed to capture.

  * * *

  The Hillside Township Emergency Center welcomed the men, despite their nudity. If a few people looked concerned or amused, they pushed those thoughts aside as Roland handed over Allison Lassiter.