The Caitlin Chronicles Boxed Set

by Michael Anderle

  “Pop goes the weasel…woah—”

  In a speedy bout of rage, the lycanthrope bucked, forcing Mary-Anne to hold on for her life. The thing was strong—almost unimaginably so—and a second later, it grabbed at the vampire with one claw and threw her onto the floor.

  Caitlin helped Mary-Anne up, then was forced to dive aside again as the creature took another charge.

  Joe, who had stood behind the cover of the trees keeping Jaxon steady, now stepped into the space left in the lycanthrope’s wake. He sighted his eye along his shotgun and aimed it at the creature’s back. “And I thought those damn lunas were a pain in my ass,” he said, pulling the trigger.

  The bullet tore through the air, finding its target, and a meaty chunk of flesh ripped off the massive body. It turned in anguish, one shoulder now slumping towards the floor.

  Caitlin and Mary-Anne paused at Joe’s side.

  “All for one,” Mary-Anne shouted, her sword high in the air.

  Caitlin looked blankly at her.

  “And one for…you know what? Never mind,” Mary-Anne muttered as they all attacked as one.

  The lycanthrope roared, saliva spraying from its jaws as Laurie’s arrow embedded in his neck. A moment later, another bullet from the shotgun entered its chest. As the creature fell to the floor, Mary-Anne and Caitlin piled on top, doing whatever they needed to do to ensure that the creature went down and stayed down.

  “I was always a strong believer in team-building exercises,” Caitlin commented wryly as the beast’s final breath rattled into nothing. “But next time, can we maybe forage for fruit or sing “Kumbaya?” I mean…what the fuck was that?”

  All eyes turned to Mary-Anne, who now sat on the shoulder of the fallen creature.

  “A lycanthrope.”

  “Yeah, we heard that part,” Laurie said. “But what is it?”

  “I’ve only heard rumor of them before—years ago before I went into hibernation. They are Weres who have degenerated so far that they can no longer change back into either of their forms.”

  Caitlin thought back to Kain’s transformation at Ashdale Pond and how labored and difficult the transition had seemed. She felt a pang of guilt knowing that she had encouraged his transformation. What if he had never been able to turn back, too?

  “Pretty soon, they all have to make a choice,” Mary-Anne said. “To live in their animal form, or to tough it out as humans. Those unlucky few who fly too close to the sun? They get stuck.” She looked down at the hulking beast of the lycanthrope. “Maddened, enraged, feral creatures.”

  “Shit,” Tom said. “And I thought Kain was bad enough as it is. I’d hate to see him stuck doing the Time Warp.”

  Caitlin chuckled, but her stomach fell, jarring her back to reality. With all the distraction from the lycanthrope attack, Kain could be miles away by now.

  “Come.” She pushed to her feet. “We need to get a move on if we’re going to find wolf-boy.”

  “Well I certainly feel well-rested,” Tom said as Laurie helped him back to his feet. His hand still clutched his stomach.

  “Are you okay?” Laurie asked.

  “Just bruised, I think,” Tom replied. “I’ve had worse, darling, don’t you worry.”

  Caitlin clicked her fingers at Jaxon and sent him back to work. For a moment, he simply sniffed the floor in circles, and she wondered if the trail had been lost in the confusion resulting from the attack.

  But He barked and sprinted ahead. Caitlin and the others gave chase once more. A series of red eyes appeared far behind them, too slow to catch up with the humans who sped off into the trees without looking back.

  Chapter Eight

  The Sweet Spot, Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  When Dylan awoke, the world was dark. He looked around, wondering where he was for a moment. A haze of sleep muddled his thoughts until he felt the wood beneath him and heard the gentle snores of Huckle and Flo on either side.

  He stretched, shaking off the dream he had just had—a dream in which he was back at Silver Creek with Caitlin. Back when they were kids, racing through the streets, avoiding the Silver Creek guards through fear of punishment and reprimand by the governor. Ma back at home cooking something sweet-smelling while Pa was off God-knew-where, as usual.

  It was a sweet dream, something which Dylan held on to tightly. He wondered what Caitlin was up to now. Had she found the vampire and was already on her way back home?

  With Mary-Anne and Kain on her side, it should be simple, really. Bing-bang-bosh, done. Tick the box, make your way back to your cozy bed.

  Of course, his mission wasn’t at all difficult. Somehow, despite the strangers snoozing around him, he felt safe and at peace. Maybe Larry was right. They really had found The Sweet Spot in the forest, a little nugget of safety circled by countless traps and pits.

  But is that really as sweet as a world with no walls, locks, or doors? A world in which folk can walk freely without fear of the Mad or the corrupt?

  Dylan rose from his place on the floor and snuck outside into the open air. It was crisp and cool. The last glowing embers of the fire pulsed lazily amongst the charred twigs and sticks in the center of the huts.

  He wandered to the edge of the settlement, let his pants drop, and pissed into the leaves. The night was clear above as he watched a shooting star arc across the canvas of sky.

  Somewhere in the distance, he heard a Mad scream.

  Dylan stood there a moment, listening and trying his best to be present as his urine trailed down the tree and soaked the earth.

  When he had finished, he shook, turned, and wandered back to the small shack. He walked slowly, deep in thought, barely noticing as the shadow of a man crossed the settlement and entered through the door of his hut.

  Huh? Dylan thought as the door creaked softly on its hinge. He looked up and caught the last of a leg disappearing inside.

  He entered stealth mode, crouching low and tiptoeing to the hut’s window. He sat beneath it for a second, listening, but could hear absolutely nothing inside. He clawed his fingers over the windowsill and poked his head up in time to see the figure, crouched low over Ash as he pulled something out of his pocket.

  “Hey!” Dylan called. “You. What have you got there?”

  The figure looked up suddenly, eyes glinting in the shadows. In a flash, they were gone, out the door and sprinting away.

  Ash sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. The others followed suit. “What the—”

  But Dylan didn’t wait around. He raced off after the figure who leaped over the embers and darted away behind the remaining houses. Dylan was fast, gaining speed with every step. He wove around the fallen logs, navigated around the houses, and saw the figure up ahead.

  Lowering his head and pushing harder than ever, he hurtled in pursuit. The settlement disappeared behind them. The man was only ten feet away now. He turned back to look over his shoulder, his face panicked as Dylan gained ground.

  The fugitive threw one more despairing glance over his shoulder, then simply disappeared.

  Dylan slowed. He couldn’t believe it. One minute he had been there, and then the next—

  “Shit. Help,” a voice called from somewhere below.

  Dylan looked down to find that he was stood a foot away from the edge of a pit. Down below, the man clawed at the walls, overcome by terror as a Mad detected his arrival and turned with hungry interest.

  Without sparing a thought, Dylan fell to his stomach, reached down, and grabbed the outstretched hand. The man kicked backward, shoving the Mad to the far edge of the pit where he bounced like a wrestler off the ropes and immediately made another attempt.

  “Quick.” Panic made his tone hoarse and desperate.

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Dylan growled his annoyance.

  With a final heave, he pulled with all his might. The man dragged up from the pit, managing to thrust a foot into the Mad’s face in the process, and fell in a heap on top of Dylan.

 
“Thanks.”

  A flash of recognition passed through Dylan’s mind. He had seen this man before, but where? It was only when their eyes met that Dylan’s mouth opened. “You?”

  In another flurry of agitation, the man scrambled away and rose to his feet to run, but was jerked back at the last second when Dylan yanked his arm. Without hesitation, he pinned the fugitive to the ground, tore a length of cloth from his shirt, and bound his hands together.

  “No. No. You don’t understand.” The man stuttered a protest, his eyes wide.

  “Save it.” Dylan picked him up off the floor and shoved him back in the direction of The Sweet Spot. As he walked, a small vial of something liquid fell to the ground.

  Dylan pocketed it and marched him back.

  “Zeek? Explain yourself,” Big Chief demanded.

  The man Dylan had captured knelt in the middle of the clearing. He looked pasty and pallid. The torchlight surrounding him casting a sickly glow onto his face as though his skin was wax that was melting.

  “I… I… He’s a liar,” Zeek said, pointing at Dylan, his words firing with the rapidity of a snake shooting venom. “He’s an outsider. Don’t trust a word he says, the filthy outcast.”

  “Didn’t your mother always tell you to ‘treat them mean, keep them keen?’” Alice asked as she raised her eyebrows. “If that’s true, this man’s got it hot for you, Dill.”

  Dylan looked uneasily at the prisoner.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Larry’s confusion was set deep in his face. “What were you doing to these people?”

  “Something to do with this, it seems.” Dylan extracted the vial from his pocket and passed it to Larry.

  Zeek sprang suddenly from his knees, obviously wanting to reach for the vial but forgetting that his hands were tight behind his back. He yelped and crashed onto his face when he fell, a small stream of blood spewing from his nose.

  “What’s this?” Larry asked, though judging by his expression, he didn’t expect an answer. He uncorked the top, sniffed, then recoiled. “Is this…Mad blood?”

  Zeek burst into laughter.

  “What?” Ash gasped. “You’re telling me that…that…sicko had a bottle of Mad blood and was hovering above me while I slept?”

  “Suppose it’s better than a penis,” Ben said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Flo and Alice said together, then giggled behind their hands.

  Ash turned to Alice. “I’ll remember that.” His wink lent no credence to the threat.

  But Dylan ignored the others, staring in horror at the small vial. He took a step back from the tribe. “You sickos! Is that what you do here? Lure outsiders into your net and then turn them into zombies for your sick fucking amusement?”

  Ash and Dylan reached for their swords until they noticed the two dozen men and women of the tribe all reaching for their own knives.

  “Calm down, Dylan. Of course not,” Big Chief said. “There already aren’t enough people left in the world. Why would we want to turn the rest into zombies?”

  “You tell me. Your man is chasing our people with Mad blood. Mad blood.” He spoke the last two words again, slowly and clearly.

  Larry struggled to hold in a laugh.

  “What?” Dylan infused the word with sarcasm.

  “It’s just… You just sounded a lot like you did when you arrived at The Sweet Spot.”

  A ripple of laughter spread through the gathering. Even Dylan softened slightly until he saw Zeek on the ground, and his face hardened again. “So if that’s not it, what is your man doing?”

  Big Chief folded his arms and looked down at Zeek. He nodded at a group of men and women on either side who closed in with their knives pointing at the poor excuse for a man.

  “You know the deal, little piggy. Squeal, before we pock your back with holes and leave you to the Mad.”

  “All right,” Zeek conceded, clearly recognizing the threat. When he spoke, disgust painted his face. “You think you’re so high and noble, don’t you, Chief? A real nice guy, taking in strangers and offering them our shit. What do you think will happen if people know where we live? What’s going to happen when a straggler finds his way home and tells his village about us? Huh? We’re going to be eliminated, that’s what. If it’s not one asshole dictator, it’s the next, and once one gets wind of our slice of Heaven, they’ll scoop us up and bring us back into their fucked-up regime before we get half a second to say, ‘Wait a minute, leave us the fuck alone, you filthy cretin’.”

  “That’s why you were going to turn them?” Larry asked incredulously. Sudden realization dawned on his face. “That’s why any visitors keep turning Mad?”

  Zeek grinned, revealing a row of filthy teeth. “I was protecting the tribe.”

  “You were putting us in danger,” Larry replied, smacking Zeek soundly in the face. “Playing with biology? Using the Madness as a weapon? What kind of freak are you?”

  “That’s your opinion,” Zeek retorted, spitting a mouthful of blood.

  “That’s the tribe’s opinion,” Big Chief said, looking around at the others. The three older women stood side by side, nodding. “Any arguments? Anyone disagree?”

  No one said a word.

  “Then it is decided,” Big Chief continued. “Zeek, you are hereby sentenced to death for your treason against this tribe.”

  Alice’s eyes widened in alarm. “Woah, hey. C’mon, does it have to be death?”

  Ash raised his eyebrows. “You realize he nearly turned me into a zombie, right? You realize you could have been lying next to a Mad, bitten before you wake up?”

  “The punishment is fixed. We cannot allow traitors,” Big Chief said.

  “Besides, he’s been afflicted. Look,” Larry pointed to a small gash on Zeek’s lower leg from where the Mad had clawed him in his escape from the pit. “He’ll be dead in a matter of days, anyway.”

  “Could even be hours,” Big Chief added.

  “All the more reason to banish him into the woods,” Alice said. “Keep your hands clean and let him wander with his kind.”

  “Your heart is too pure, do you know that?” Ash said, but he leaned down and kissed her.

  Big Chief seemed to debate the idea in his head. On the one hand, she was right. Zeek was as good as dead anyway, so why not let him join the rest of the Mad? But, on the other hand, did they really want to add to their numbers?

  “Enough smooching. Let’s release this fucker into his natural habitat,” Dylan said, looking at Big Chief for approval.

  After a moment of thought, Big Chief nodded.

  He wandered into the forest with a small group of the tribe and their belligerent prisoner, leaving Dylan and the Revolutionaries at the settlement. The fire was re-lit, ushering in the final hours of darkness before the dawn. Despite their tiredness, no one felt safe enough to risk sleep in the hut yet—well…aside from Ash and Alice who decided to shut themselves away for a bit of hanky-panky.

  When the chief returned, it was with a solemnity that radiated across the tribe. He nodded at Dylan, a silent communication between them of it’s done.

  “Our apologies,” Big Chief said, taking his seat at last. “Never in a thousand years would I have imagined one of our own could have been such a monster.”

  “Really?” Flo said. “I’m not being funny, but the dude was a creep. If I had to place my bets on anyone here, it would have been him. And—”

  “Still,” Dylan interrupted her, his tone conciliatory. “Thank you.”

  The chief stared into the fire for a long moment. In the background, they could hear the stifled moans of Ash and Alice. Ben, Huckle, and Flo looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

  “He was right…in a way,” Dylan said at last. “We did journey out here to find others and to try to connect the free world.”

  Larry looked up at Dylan.

  “We have a town—Silver Creek—which, until recently, had been controlled by a dictator, much like yours only with less brai
n splatter. But it is free now. We are free. And we’re on a journey to unite as many towns, villages, and cities as possible. To re-unite humankind after the fall of the Madness.”

  Larry and Big Chief exchanged glances. “A town in the forest? Where?”

  “Several miles from here,” Huckle answered. “With walls the height of some of the trees, taverns, markets, and people.”

  “You can come with us,” Dylan continued. “There’s room for all of you.”

  An uneasiness fluttered across the tribe.

  “Or, you can help us join our settlements together. We’ve already built a road to a neighboring town. If you like, we can carve a path through the forest for you, too. We can share provisions and create a safer way to travel through the forest. Years ago, great roads existed, along with alliances between communities. That’s all we want.”

  For a moment there was silence as the words seemed to sink into the tribe. Only the gentle sounds of passion were heard from the huts.

  At last, Big Chief spoke up. “Your offer is kind, Dylan of Silver Creek. But this is a tribe decision and one that we will not be able to take lightly. You are welcome to stay here until we have discussed it.”

  Dylan smiled. “As long as you don’t have any other freaks waiting to pour blood into my mouth.”

  Larry and Big Chief laughed.

  Chapter Nine

  Silver Creek Forest, Old Ontario

  They reached the edge of the forest in the soft, muted gray of early morning. By that point, even Jaxon was worn out, still able to sniff the trail but with markedly less excited enthusiasm.

  The trees thinned to grass. When the group crested the top of a hill, Caitlin’s eyes nearly fell from their sockets. She could see for miles around from her vantage point—something she had never been able to do.

  “Dear Queen Bitch and all that is good and holy,” Caitlin breathed.

  Mary-Anne smiled beside her. “Now you’re getting it. It sure is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Caitlin wasn’t sure if beautiful was technically the right word. But the view certainly was breathtaking. For miles around, she could see the patterns of overgrown fields. Fading remains of roads crisscrossed the abandoned farmland, and a great lake shone far in the distance.