THE AWAKENING [Part 1]

by Michael Timmins

  It felt as if he was getting hit by a truck. He felt the sharp stabbing as one of the tusks pierced his abdomen, followed by the hard impact of the thing’s body and momentum collided with his inert form. Clint managed a grunt before the rest of the wind was knocked out of him and he went flying. He heard Sarah's scream cut off with an ooff. He sensed more than saw her body flying parallel with him. He heard her go down in a pile of bodies of innocent bystanders. He wasn't so lucky. He hit the concrete, ankles first which slowed his forward momentum and brought him down, hard. His butt hit, then the back of his head bounced off the concrete. He was sailing again as he flipped head over heels. This time he landed belly down, skidded, then pivoted and rolled. He lay there gasping for breath. His body bruised and scraped. Blood pouring out of his abdomen from where he had been stabbed by the monster.

  He could feel his body begin to mend almost immediately, but he thought for sure he wasn't going to make it this time. He was going to lose too much blood for him to recover. Not to mention the only reason that thing could be here was because of him, which meant it was probably on its way to him to finish him off.

  Clint managed to roll over and look in the direction he believed he had been attacked to see if the thing approached him. Instead, it was standing over a pile of bodies. Groups of people cowered from this thing, trying to scramble away. Clint couldn't fathom what the thing was doing. He was sure it was here for him. Then it dawned on him. Sarah. He watched in horror as the creature reached down and swatted an Indian man in a blue business suit aside, sending him airborne for a second or two before skidding to a halt a few feet from Clint. The thing reached down with its massive clawed hand, lifted Sarah up. She was either dead or unconscious. Clint couldn't tell. He almost threw up. The creature turned towards him. He could swear the thing was smiling.

  Shots rang out from across the street. Clint saw the beast flinch from the impact of bullets. Clint glanced in the direction of the shots. A uniformed cop stood across the street, pointing a gun in his right hand at the creature. His left hand held his radio to mouth, shouting frantically for back up. The creature turned from him and towards the cop, who fired two more times. Clint couldn't help but flinch from each shot. He wasn't sure if Sarah was alive, but if she was, he certainly didn't want to see her get shot by some wayward bullet meant to save her.

  The thing glanced at him out of the corner of its eyes, as if to make sure he hadn't gone anywhere, and then scrutinized the area. It found what it was looking for. Surprisingly quick for something so big, it reached down and ripped a manhole cover off and lifted it. In one quick motion the creature flung it forward. The manhole cover flew the distance across the street quickly. The cop barely had enough time move out of the way. Even then, it clipped him in the shoulder with an audible crunch that Clint could hear from where he stood. The cop spun around almost twice and was thrown back a few feet before colliding with the building behind him. The manhole cover buried itself three quarters of the way in the concrete wall of the store front.

  With a satisfied grunt, the creature returned its attention back to him. In several strides, it was looming over him, Sarah’s limp form still hanging lifelessly in its grasps.

  When it spoke, it was with a guttural growl. "I am going to let you watch as I eat your woman first, before I kill you." He shook Sarah roughly and she moaned in response, as though he wanted to make sure Clint knew she was still alive, and would feel everything about to happen to her. He could feel his bleeding had stopped, and most of the superficial injuries were gone, if only he could buy some time he could... could what? What are you going to do, Clint? You can't fight this thing. Maybe if you could control your change you could do something, but you can't. And now Sarah is going to pay for your cowardice. If you had not been so fearful of this thing you became, maybe you could have learned to use it.

  Either way, it was too late now. All he could do was watch as the monster lifted Sarah up to dangle her legs above its open mouth. The creature was just about to bite when something orange and black slammed into him. The beast was knocked over and, in the process, let go of Sarah who dropped a few feet away in an unconscious lump.

  Whatever hit the monster rebounded off it and landed right next to Clint. Clint turned his head to see what it was and was greeted by an orange with black striped feline face, except around its mouth which was white. Long translucent whiskers protruded from its maw which was filled with sharp teeth. Clint's eyes trailed down the rest of its body. The new creature had landed on all fours and was now in a pre-sprinter’s form, front arms extended, palms down, one knee bent, and the other extended out straight behind it. An orange and black striped tail swished back and forth protruding from its hind. Brown eyes looked at him curiously

  "I thought I smelled it on you the first time I passed you. The fact this thing is attacking you concludes it." The tiger like creature purred. Clint surmised it was a female. "Now the question is," it continued, "why haven't you changed yet?"

  "What are you talking about?" Of course, Clint knew what it meant, but he couldn't help denying it still.

  "Look, any second now that thing is going to get back up, and there is no way I can beat it by myself. I know my limitations and that thing is way too strong. So, you can continue to act ignorant, but you are going to die because of it — both you and your girlfriend."

  With a sudden roar the boar-like creature regained its feet.

  "Ahh, now there's a nice pussy. Why don't you come here and play? I love to play with pussies." The boar thing grabbed its crotch and thrusted it in their direction, then charged them.

  The tiger, Clint realized was what it was, bounded forward to meet the boar. As before, the boar lowered its head in a charge and picked up speed. The tiger also dashed forward quicker and the distance closed rapidly. Then the cat was flying. It leaped into the air, pivoting around in mid-arc to latch its claws in the back of the boar. The sound of tearing flesh was audible for a moment before the roar of pain erupted from the thing. Gouging deep furrows down the entire back of the creature, the tiger landed softly behind it. Once again, Clint was amazed at the speed of such a large creature. Somehow, the Boar had managed to stop its forward momentum and come to a lurching halt. Out flung its arm in a back-hand swing that took the cat across the side of the face, sending her flying. She slammed into the side of a building, pieces of masonry exploding away from the impact. The Tiger landed hard on the pavement. She was lifting herself off the pavement as the boar, seeming to sense the inevitability of this fight’s conclusion seemed to take his time approaching her. She glanced up at the creature, then at him.

  "Change, damn you!" she yelled at him.

  "I don't know how!" Clint yelled back. "I've never done it on purpose before!"

  Shock lit up her face.

  "Picture yourself as whatever you become and focus in on it!" She yelled as the boar-thing reached her. It grabbed the back of her head and lifted her up with one arm. He punched her hard in the stomach, her body curling around his fist. Clint could hear her groan as she unfolded, still held in the air by the boar-like creature. He turned her and slammed her face first into the wall with a sickening crunch. Again, his arm swept back and slammed her once more into the wall.

  Clint could only watch as the creature slammed her face first into the wall, over and over, again. He panicked. He tried desperately to picture himself as the Werewolf, but the image of what this creature was doing to this newfound ally, who had tried to save him was frozen in his mind. After the third time, the boar released the tiger, who slumped to the floor. Clint saw her bloodied face, fur matted with blood, and mangled, almost unrecognizable.

  The Boar creature grabbed her by the ankle and began to drag her towards Clint. He watched as the creature bared its teeth as its dragged the cat past him. He realized quickly the creature was heading again towards Sarah. He could hear the feline whisper to him, "Please, help."

  It was like something snapped in Clint's brain. He was not
going to allow that thing to hurt Sarah or the Tiger, anymore. His mind cleared of everything else and he formed an image of himself as the Werewolf. The image formed in his mind and he could feel it lock in his head. The pain started immediately, but he dismissed it. He had no time for pain. He never remained conscious for any previous changes he had gone through. The pain always made him pass out before, but now he fought through it and remained awake. His sense of urgency seemed to be recognized by his body as bones broke and reknitted, skin stretched and toughened. Brown fur erupted all over his body, muscles grew and bulked up. His fingers stretched and his nails extended and sharpened. Clint could hear his clothes tear and rip along the seams. His shoes split as his feet enlarged and became claw like. His ears swept up and extended becoming canine like. In seconds, the change was done. For the first time, Clint felt what it was like to be a Werewolf. His senses were heightened. Sounds and colors were more vibrant and were easily discernible from each other. He towered above his normal height, he could feel his muscles flex and release, their bulk daunting. Clint sensed his strength. It was palpable. Clint's eyes focused on what was happening around him. There was a crowd of people, a good distance away, watching the whole thing. Cars were stopped in the street, their doors open and their drivers standing half in and half out of their cars, watching, and recording on their cellphones.

  Clint scanned the area quickly, the sound of sirens screamed in the distance, but with the traffic backed up the way it was, the chances of the police cars getting here anytime soon was unlikely. Clint whirled around towards the Boar, who was reaching down to grab Sarah's ankle. He still had not let go of the Tiger and Clint could see she was healing rapidly, but he couldn't be sure if she was going to be of any help. The Wereboar, he guessed he should call it, seemed unaware of his change, preoccupied as he was. Even given Clint's new size, he could see that the Wereboar clearly was bigger than him. But it didn't matter. Time was running out for Sarah, and he had to move.

  Grabbing Sarah's ankle, the Wereboar rounded just in time to see Clint's arm sweep down, claws extended and slash open the Wereboar's wrist holding Sarah. Blood burst out like an exploded water balloon. Clint felt the tendons in the creature’s wrist sever as his claws scraped through flesh and muscle. It had the intended effect of causing it to lose its grip on Sarah.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Weretiger spin around and kick out at the creature’s knee, causing its knee to buckle with a snapping sound. As the Wereboar fell to one knee, Clint punched downward at the side of his head, causing him to slam into the concrete.

  "Grab your girl and let’s go," the Weretiger said, getting to her feet.

  Clint scooped up Sarah's limp form easily. Holding her close to his body, he could feel her heat and the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest letting him know she was still alive. Though badly beaten up, she was holding on, and for that, Clint was thankful.

  Clint looked down at the Wereboar who was now starting to lever himself up. The Weretiger stepped forward and slammed her shin into the side of his head, rocking it so hard, he slumped back, again.

  Clint turned towards the Weretiger. They needed to get out of here, and fast. The cops were going to show up soon, and Clint was sure they wouldn't try to figure out which of the monsters were the good ones. They would just start shooting.

  "Follow me," he told her and they turned as one, both aware they still had an audience of several hundred people.

  Clint wasn't sure which one started it first, but someone in the crowd started clapping, and it was quickly joined in by the whole mob.

  As the crowd buffeted them with applause, Clint could only stare. First, at the crowd and then at the Weretiger, who seemed just as surprised as him.

  Since Clint towered over anyone in the crowd he could easily spot the force of police headed their way. About a dozen of uniformed officers, in riot gear, were in formation and marching down the sidewalk. They would soon run into the back of the crowd and he was sure would arrive here soon enough.

  With a nod in the police's direction to make sure the Weretiger was aware of the danger, he moved towards the crowd in the opposite direction. As the crowd parted to allow them through, he watched the reaction on their faces. Most could not help but stare in wonder and shock, he would presume. There was some obvious fear, but apparently, their battle with the Wereboar to save Sarah had solidified the view in the hearts and minds of those here they were the good guys. It absolutely amazed Clint. All this time he had been disgusted with his disease. Disgusted he would become a monster, it never occurred to him he could use his power and abilities for good. And people would recognize he wasn't a monster by his actions. Occasionally, some of the onlookers would even brave a quick step forward to touch the Weretiger and him. Clint just shook his head.

  There were shouts from the other side of the crowd, signaling the arrival of the police. At the same time, he heard gasps from closer and looked back to see the Wereboar regain his feet. He watched as the thing shook its head to clear the fuzziness from being knocked in the head too hard. The crowd backed away from it and moved around the two of them. The Wereboar scanned around and found them. He raised his hand and pointed at Clint with an extended claw, then crooked it back towards himself, signing he wasn't done with them, yet. The arm Clint tore had mended completely.

  Clint sighed. He knew what he had to do. He wasn't sure if he was going to survive it, but he had to do his best to end this right now. This thing would keep following him and would attack him again.

  Turning, Clint held out Sarah's body to the Weretiger. "Take her please. Make sure you get her to safety."

  "And you are doing what I presume?" she asked taking Sarah.

  "Hopefully ending this."

  "Don't be stupid. I didn't save your ass, just for you to throw it away," she told him.

  He curled a lip at her, hoping she took it as a smile. "I never did get your name?"

  "It's Kat."

  "You’re kidding, right?"

  "No," she growled at him. "I am not kidding."

  "Okay, sorry." He stepped away from her and started to move in the Wereboar's direction. "Thank you, Kat, for saving me. I'm Clint, by the way."

  "Don't do this, Clint," she insisted.

  "I've got to." With that, Clint turned and started moving quicker towards the Wereboar, who watched his approach and let out a grunt.

  "After I am done with you doggy, I'm gonna mess up your pussy friend, but I won't let her die until after she watches me ass rape your girl with my boar cock. After your puny dick, mine should tear her up nice." The Wereboar thrusted himself forward to emphasize the point. Clint could swear he could hear a British accent in the thing’s voice, though it was difficult to tell, given the guttural nature of the words.

  Clint let out a low growl and was about to charge when he was brought up short, by the appearance of the police force behind the Wereboar. The front line held riot shields and the second line had their guns drawn and trained on the Wereboar’s back. A rather large, angry looking African American man squeezed through the second line holding a megaphone. He raised the megaphone to his mouth.

  "This is the Chicago police department. Please lie down on the ground and put your… hands behind your head." The amplified voice echoed and bounced back and forth from the buildings, creating the illusion of coming from up and down the street.

  Clint wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he was pretty sure the Wereboar smiled this time as it turned towards the group of police.

  "I repeat, lie down on the ground and put your... hands on top of your head," the policeman said, searching for the right words to describe what he was seeing.

  The Wereboar continued to ignore their demands and even took a step towards them. As soon as he did that, Clint heard several thumps and pop can sized canisters soared over the first line of police to land at the creature’s feet. Smoke billowed out from them as they spun around, propelled as they were from the release of gas.

&n
bsp; In seconds, the Wereboar was no longer visible in the cloud of smoke. Clint could only rationalize the smoke would have little effect on either of them and was about to call out to warn the police when the smoke parted as the massive bulk of the Wereboar cut through it, causing it to swirl in its wake. Head lowered, tusks extended forward, it barreled towards the cops.

  There was a full second of pause while the cops recovered from their surprise enough to fire. Half a dozen guns blasted, shots being fired into the oncoming creature who didn't slow… even a little. The cops in front planted their shields and braced themselves. It didn't help. A couple of cops got off a second shot before the beast slammed into them. The two cops in the middle taking the hit had their shields shatter and pieces of it slammed into them. Broken pieces of reinforced Plexiglas sliced and slid deep into their unarmored parts, the riot gear offering some protection to their midsections from the sharp pieces... but not from impact of a Wereboar at full charge. A tusk punched right through the armored vest of the cop on the right, burying into his abdomen, piercing his stomach, bathing his insides with stomach acid, starting a slow and painful way to die. The cop on the left took a shoulder, crushing the vest and shattering his breastplate and ribs. Pieces of bone from his shattered ribs made mincemeat of his heart and he died instantly.

  Luckily, the cops behind them were protected from the full force of the impact by the bodies of their fellow cops which slammed into them, instead. Bodies went flying as the Wereboar rushed through them, knocking them over like bowling pins on the receiving end of a strike.

  Clint watched as somehow, amazingly, the Wereboar managed to grab the cop with the megaphone as he rolled through them. As it ran he lifted the cop in front of him. The cop, to his accreditation managed to hold onto his megaphone. He slammed the cone against the side of the monster’s head, which did nothing more than piss it off, apparently, for it pulled the cop forward and jammed his head into its mouth, biting down hard. With a jerk of its head it tore the cop’s head from his body. Tossing the now blood spraying body aside, it spat out the head, which bounced a couple of times before coming to rest in front of a store.