by Hunter Blain
Another assassin was leaving a trail of blood mixed mud as he tried to pull himself away on his forearms. I stood on his lower back and pressed in. He sucked in air in surprise and pain and then moaned, letting his face drop to the dirt.
Reaching down, I flipped the man onto his back with ease and looked him in the eyes, letting my blood-claws pierce his shoulders.
“Locke?” Was the only thing I asked.
The man didn’t answer, only stared at me with barely controlled panic in his eyes and a gaping mouth. Pulling the man up to my face while digging the claws deeper, I say, “Don’t make me ask again blood jug,” revealing fangs as I did. The man continued to stare, not answering.
I felt breath on the back of my neck as Depweg pushed his head past my shoulder and into the man’s face, blood and gore drenched jaws open and dripping.
The man’s eyes went wide enough I thought they were going to pop out of his head and flee into the night.
“Ye-yes!” The man stammered.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” I said in my best Robocop voice, and sank my fangs into the man’s neck. The life rushed into me and I felt like I could scale the highest mountain.
After all threats were eliminated, Depweg and I sat on the ground in relief. I laid back and let my gaze shift to the night sky, watching grey clouds pass.
“That,” I paused for emphasis, “was close.”
Depweg whimpered and I turned to see him licking his lower back on his right side. I pulled myself up and walked behind him. There were three blood-soaked holes in the shape of a half-moon that were matted with fur. Blood flowed freely with no signs of stopping.
I reached around him while whispering in his ear, “No homo.” I felt his stomach and around his torso but couldn’t find any exit wounds.
“Shit,” I said. “Gonna have to dig those bastards out.”
Depweg whimpered and turned his head away.
I willed little chopstick sized spears of blood from my finger tip and touched the first gaping crater.
“Now, this might sting a bit,” I said as I slid the spear into the bullet hole. Inch by inch I went in, all the while Depweg slightly trembled and whimpered.
“Shit,” I muttered, “that’s in there pretty deep.” As I finished, just the tip touched the silver fragment; and then broke. A jolt of electricity went up my arm and I fell back. The spear fell from my hand and melted like a popsicle in the sun.
Waving my hand in the air to pointlessly abate the pain, I said out loud, “Right, silver.”
Looking around I noticed the jeep and got an idea. “B-R-B,” I said, enunciating every letter.
I jogged over to the jeep where I found Depweg’s bag and then rummaged around until I found the kukri. I removed it from its sheath, letting the moon light glint off the reverberating blade.
Making my way back to where Depweg sat, I held the knife, very carefully I might add, out in front of me. Last thing I needed was to trip over a gofer hole and stab myself through the face. Depweg looked over and shifted his eyes immediately to the glinting blade. His ears laid back and eyes became yellow billiard balls while shaking his head in negation.
“Gotta do it buddy. Only way,” I said, trying my best to sound reassuring.
He turned his head away and lowered it, clearly unhappy as to the upcoming addition to his roadmap of scars.
Standing over the wounds, I placed the blade over the hole and slice into it, cutting in a few centimeters. Depweg whined through closed jaws and flexed his paws into the earth.
I set the knife down and stuck my index and middle fingers into the hole as gingerly as I could, and slowly pulled the hole wider. The slit allowed the skin to part evenly, and cleanly. After further opening the wound, I started to slide both fingers into the bleeding cavity until I could feel the reverberation of the silver fragment. Letting my delicate digits slide over the bullet, I pinched and smoothly pulled it out.
As the bullet cleared the hole, I dropped it to the ground, ready to repeat the process two more times.
Second round removed, I moved on to the third, which was deeper. I’m forced to pull out and, apologizing to Depweg, cut even deeper into his flesh with the blade. I’m confident Depweg loved it because he tried to turn and give me a love bite with razor sharp fangs.
I spanked his nose and said, “No. Bad Deppyweg. Bad.”
He turned his head away again with a growl and let me finish my task.
With the last bullet out, I looked down and noticed the wounds were still flowing with blood.
“Hey,” I asked, “are these wounds going to be small enough to heal?”
Depweg turned his head and inspected the wounds. He licked them, as dogs do, and looked back up at me. A shake of his head confirmed my suspicions.
“So, fire then,” I said with a sigh of frustration. At the mention of fire, Depweg jumped forward a bit and turned to face me with his whole body, growling.
“Dude, I get it. I no likey fire as much as the next supe, but that’s our only choice. Now, do we do this in wolf form, or, what?”
Depweg paced back and forth, whimpering with each pained step.
“Human form?” I asked.
Depweg stopped, looked at me, and nodded.
“Alrighty then. Convert away. Or is it revert?” I asked.
He nodded his head, but then looked up at me and chuffed once.
“What is it boy? Little Timmy stuck in the old well?” I said while crouching down slightly and putting both hands on my knees.
He chuffed again while turning to one of the bodies, and started eating.
“Oh, right. Food to heal. Hey, you could have eaten them in human form and I wouldn’t have judged. I do it all the time.”
After every one of the corpses had only the thick muscles from their non-armored arms and thighs eaten, Depweg laid on the ground and began the transformation. Fur began to thin until it was human like hair, then fell out. His snout shortened with a sound of a truck’s tires slowly driving up a gravel road. The fangs in his mouth fell out, and human teeth grew in their stead. His knees popped back in place and claws were swallowed by growing, tan colored skin.
After a minute, the transformation was complete, and Depweg lay on the ground shuddering. Blood continued to pour down his wounds which did not shrink with his mass. They were actually bigger on his body now. The silver prevented whatever magic flowed through his veins from working on the holes.
Depweg reached behind and felt the trauma with a trembling hand. He pulled his fingers away and brought them in front of his face, inspecting the dark blood.
“Whatever you are going to do, John, please hurry,” Depweg said with fading, pained breaths.
Looking around, I got another genius idea. I strode over to one of the hit men and removed his balaclava from his face. As I walked back over to where Depweg was bleeding out, I ripped the mask into three even strips. Once I reached where he lay, I crouched and said, “Sorry man, but gotta do this,” and stuffed the strips into each of the holes as deep as they would go. Depweg gasped in pain and tensed, but only a little, which worried the hell out of me.
“Hold on, man,” I said with growing worry as I focused on the strips. One by one, I excited the molecules of the fabric all the way into the wounds which started to smoke and then smolder. The blood fought to keep the strips from igniting. I took in a deep breath and then focused on the strips with all the force of my will. Veins stood out on my head as I concentrated. They continued to smoke but did not burn. This pissed me off and I used my anger. I wasn’t about to let my friend die, especially considering it was my fucking fault.
I regathered my will and focus, and stared at the first strip. After a moment, it blazed up in a tiny pyre, reaching fruitlessly for the sky.
Depweg moaned loudly and tried to reach a hand back. I grabbed it and moved my focus to the next strip.
After they were all lit, I let them burn for a moment and then blew them out using my preternatur
al strength to force the air out of my lungs like a quick shotgun blast. The flames blew completely out, leaving behind ashen skin. I sat upright and admired my wer-birthday cake.
“There ya go, buddy. Let those people digest in your tum tum and you’ll feel right as rain soon enough,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as him.
After carrying Depweg back to the jeep, I dressed him, intentionally putting his jeans on backwards. As I buckled him into the seat, I snicker to myself at the thought of him waking up and being all “why are my pants on backwards?”
I let the seat lay as far back as possible to provide him as much comfort as the jeep will allow. With a wince, he shifted his body weight to his good side, relieving the pressure on his brand spanking new collection of scars.
After securing him and putting the cleaned off kukri back in his bag, I sauntered over to where the dead men lay, and rifled through their gear. Most of the guns were damaged in the earth blast and almost all the ammo was expended, but I was able to grab a few Sig Sauer MPX’s with full auto option and suppressors. I whistled loudly as I knew they were expensive weaponry. I emptied all the partially used magazines into one of their duffle bags and saw there was about three full mags worth of ammo. I grabbed three empty mags and threw them in the with the MPX’s and the ammo.
As I start to walk back to the jeep, I heard a muffled voice coming from one of the hit men’s headsets. I stop, pivot on one foot, and walked over to where the dead man laid for his final rest.
“You must have been the leader, huh?” I ask the decimated corpse, lightly kicking the chest as if expecting a response. He looked odd with his thighs and arms eaten away, leaving behind calves, forearms, and a plump torso. His glinting blood looked black in the moon light.
I bent down and removed his headset, placing the earpiece in position over my head. A voice chimed over.
“Parker. Parker, do you copy? Over,” the voice asked methodically.
I pushed the switch on the ear piece, putting on my super scary voice and said, “Parker’s… indisposed.” I glanced down at the mutilation that was once a human. “Maybe I can help. Where are you?” I let the last syllable linger in the air.
Silence was the response I got.
“Oh, ah, over,” I said, finishing the appropriate radio etiquette.
An unmistakable voice came over the line and violated my ears like they were a pair of roofied prom dates, “Is that you, Jonathan?”
“It’s just John. And you didn’t say over. Over,” I said to Locke.
“I assume that your dog survived?” Locke asked absently, already knowing the answer.
My mind flashed with Tiny Tim and anger grew in my chest, white-hot and deep. I couldn’t let him know I was affected. In my best, cheery voice I half lied, “Nope. But he did eat your men while they were still alive. Their screams, oh their screams. Most of them even pooped themselves.” Growing ballsy, I said a little louder, targeting the other people surely listening in the room, “I ate a few myself. Got to read their minds and learn their secrets, like where your base is.”
Locke called my bluff, “And where is that, exactly?”
Damn it. I knew I should have dove into the last-man-standings head. With Depweg over my shoulder, I wanted to look all cool and stuff. Shit.
“Oh, you’ll see, soon enough. It was bad enough you were on my shit list, now you have two of us hunting you. Everyone who works for you will be food for us. Then I’ll…”
I was cut off by a voice next to Locke. “Got him, sir.”
“Show me on the map,” Locke said from further away, as if he had put the microphone down.
“Here sir,” the man said in response.
“Excellent,” the voice grew louder again. “Hey Jonathan, don’t move.”
A sickening feeling grew in my stomach and I instinctively dropped the headset and started to run. Several bounds in, I cursed myself and turned around, running back to the body. I grabbed the bag containing the weapons and noticed there were shadows dancing on the ground. They grew longer, causing me to stop and look around. The ground grew lighter and I looked up and saw a small, bright moon growing larger.
“That’s no moon,” I whispered to myself and turned to start sprinting back to the jeep.
As I ran, the ground around me turned bright as if it were day. I slowed for a millisecond as I looked around in awe. I hadn’t seen the world lit up like this in hundreds of years, and for the first time since my transformation, I was in wonderment at how much I actually missed the sun. The greens and browns were vibrant all around. I hopped over a body that was in my path and I stared at the ruby red blood with my mouth agape. Even with the brightest LED lights on the market, blood could never be as red as what I saw.
Snapping out of it, I risked a glance over my shoulder to see the ball of light was the size of a house and plummeting toward where the dead men lay.
I picked up speed and leapt into the air, dropping the bag into the backseat. Landing in the front seat, I fumbled at the keys that were still in the ignition. Grabbing hold of the keys, I turned them and was rewarded with clicking that sounded like an empty machine gun. I let go and turned again, but was met with the same result.
I leaned out the jeep and looked at the engine block which looked like swiss cheese and yelled, “Fuck!”
I turned in my seat and grabbed the bag, slipping the strap over one shoulder and across my chest. Pulling the strap tight, I leapt out the top of the jeep and onto Depweg’s side. I reached in and undid his seat belt while chancing a glance at the ball of death. It was hurling toward the trees with a ferocity of a falling star.
With renewed invigoration, I threw Depweg over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry and started sprinting down the dirt road in the direction of the highway. A moment later, I saw my shadow extend out in front of me, growing tall in the falling light. It was about to hit.
There was an ear-splitting boom and a shockwave that propelled me forward, almost launching me off my feet. I felt the heat creep up as I ran and my once long shadow started to retreat back toward my face as a ball of fire erupted into the sky. Depweg moaned at the movement and probably the burning air as well. Luckily, his girth was keeping most of the immense heat off of my shoulders and head. But man oh man, did my ass and legs burn!
I made it to the edge of the road and looked back. The fireball had diminished to black smoke, violating the nights sky. The woods around the area were blazing.
Depweg moaned and I turned my face just in time for him to vomit chunks of man flesh all over my face.
“Sorry,” was all he could manage before passing out again.
I stood there, with my face scrunched in disgust, and spit out a dribble of flesh that had flown into my mouth. I turned my head and wiped my face on his jeans, clearing my vision.
When I dared to open my eyes, I looked around and tried to figure out what to do next. A beautiful sight came into view as I spotted the twin, white commercial vans sitting on the side of the road a quarter mile up the side of the road. I chuckled to myself and started walking toward them.
As I got closer, I could see orange traffic cones around both vans and the official looking equipment on top. “Locke’s City Services” was printed on either side of both vans. Sonofabitch was humble.
I walked around to the back of the first van and grabbed the handle. Locked. I’m sure there is a pun there somewhere.
“Shit,” I said, knowing there was no key left in existence after that fire bomb incinerated the remains of the hit squad.
I pointed my index finger at the lock and willed my blood into the key hole. Once it filled, I pushed on the tumblers and twisted, unlocking the van. The blood retreated back into my finger and I opened the door with a little, “Yes.”
Inside the work van was an organized treasure trove. Cabinets ran along one side of the van with a bench parallel on the other.
I stepped in and laid Depweg down on the bench with his wounded side facing up.
I turned and saw that most of the cabinet doors were open. The first revealed hard foam slots where the automatic weapons had been. I closed the empty cabinet and moved on to the next. Boxes of silver rounds were stacked on top of each other. I counted ten unmarked boxes of the expensive ammo and mentally smacked my forehead for not grabbing more magazines. After closing the ammunition door, I went to the final cabinet that was at chest height and mentally unsmacked myself once I saw the spare magazines lining the wall. Most were gone, but three remained, bringing my total magazine count to six. I closed the last door and kneeled down to the lower cabinets which were situated under a work bench.
The first had a red cross on it and I opened it to find a well-stocked first aid storage unit, complete with operating tools, bandages, and even pharmaceutical vials. I found some burn ointment and grabbed it. Turning to face Depweg, I lifted his shirt to reveal the blackened holes which were a reddish pink around their edges. I liberally applied the burn medicine to his wounds, which Depweg met with a quick jerk and a gasp, followed by him relaxing and laying his head back on the bench. His breathing went back into deep rhythms a minute after that.
I turned back to the cabinet, grabbed a large bandage and removed the adhesive covers along its perimeter, laying it over the wound and smoothing it out.
The other cabinets contained slots where body armor was at one time, radios, and even a cab full of M.R.E.’s and water bottles. I’m sure Depweg would appreciate those once he woke up.
I made my way to the front of the van and settled in the driver’s seat. Reaching for the ignition I noticed the keys weren’t there. A quick check of the glove box and center console revealed nothing.
“That’s odd,” I muttered to myself. “What if the driver went down in battle and was, like, eaten or something.” My brow was furrowed in confusion and then I remembered every movie ever and grabbed the visor. A set of keys fell into my lap as I did.