by Amy Cross
"Hang on," Duncan says, sighing. "Where are my manners? Robin, this is Darla."
Darla smiles reluctantly at Robin. "I'm -"
"Don't worry about that now," says Duncan, grabbing Robin and pulling him over to me. "This -" he says, smiling. "This is Jess. She's one of us now, too. She's my..." He pauses. "Well, she's Jess."
Robin looks at me with suspicion. "One of us... now?" he asks.
"Yes," says Duncan. "She was human, but I changed her. She's a werewolf now."
"How long ago?" Robin asks, clearly not convinced.
"A few weeks," Duncan says. "But I can assure you, she's -"
"A potential spy," says Robin.
"I'm not a spy," I say.
"Forgive me for not taking your word on that subject," Robin says. "Duncan, do you think it's wise to risk having her here?"
"We can trust her," Duncan says. "She saved my life. She came down to the Underworld to find me. She killed Thomas Lumic."
"She killed Lumic?" Robin says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly can't quite believe it.
"Well..." I say. "Not entirely. It was Darla who really... did the legwork and got the giant worm to eat him."
Robin eyes me suspiciously for a few more seconds. "No spy would come up with such a ludicrous claim," he says. "If Duncan trusts you, that's good enough for me. For now, anyway." He steps forward and shakes my hand. "Welcome," he says, a hint of suspicion and doubt lingering in his voice. "It's brave of you to follow your master up here."
"Master?" I ask.
"Ignore that," Duncan says.
"No-one's my master," I say.
"Of course not," Duncan says.
"It's tradi- "Robin starts to say, but Duncan interrupts him by coughing loudly for several seconds.
"Ignore Robin," Duncan says to me. "He... he's very old-fashioned. He... knoweth not of whateth he speaketh."
I stare at him, slightly annoyed by this 'master' business. "I knoweth not of whateth you speaketh."
"Good," Duncan says.
"Good," I reply
"I need a drink," Darla says to Robin. "A big, strong drink. Come on, this is Scotland. You must be swimming in whiskey."
"There's no time to waste," Robin says. "If there's any chance for us to survive, we have to -"
"We have to come up with a plan," says Duncan. "A brilliant plan. So brilliant, that it will make everyone's jaws drop to the floor. Don't worry. We can do it. But we have to speak to the Wolf King, so come on, let's go and find him."
A pained expression crosses Robin's face. "You don't understand, Duncan. That's what I've been trying to tell you." He takes a deep breath. "There was a battle. A huge battle, many died on both sides. And... the Wolf King was killed this morning."
Meanwhile
General Chaucer surveyed the scene. Before him lay the Scottish estate, 20,000 acres of forest and hillside, a beautiful natural wilderness that also happened to be home to the last werewolves. It was a beautiful sight in the early afternoon sunshine, an oasis of nature in a world of chaos. Too bad, Chaucer thought to himself, that he was going to have to blow it up and kill every living thing in the area. Sure, it looked fairly peaceful right now, but this peace was just the calm before the storm. In his hand, Chaucer held a small radio. With this radio, he could call in airstrikes on any part of the estate; carpet bombing to smoke out the last remaining werewolves. He could deploy land-mines, and missiles, and men with guns and vaporizers. He had a whole arsenal of weapons. He was in the enviable position of knowing for certain that he was about to win a battle, and he had the luxury of deciding when to make his move. And he was going to call in the attacks soon, as a precursor to sending in his ground troops. He just needed to wait a little longer. He just needed to be sure that everything was ready.
"Sir!" said Corporal Withers, approaching from behind.
"Yes?" Chaucer asked, not bothering to turn around to face the visitor. He'd never really had much respect for Withers.
"Sir, we've received word that GCHQ is sending a representative up to help with the final stage." Withers waited a moment. "Captain Lucas is on his way, Sir."
"Lucas?" Chaucer said, turning to Withers. "Lucas?" His voice couldn't hide his disgust, and his contempt. "They're sending Lucas up to help with... with what? What do they think Lucas can do that I can't?"
Withers considered what to say. "I think they just want an observer here, Sir," he said eventually. "And Captain Lucas has a very good reputation for -"
"I know, I know," says Chaucer, losing patience. "I've heard of him. He's been flavor of the month down in London for most of the year. I just don't see why they feel the need to send someone up to spy on me. I'm more than capable of finishing this job. I tracked down the Wolf King and had him killed, didn't I?"
"Yes, Sir," said Withers.
"And I got the wolves surrounded, didn't I?"
"Yes, Sir," said Withers.
"So the hard work is done," Chaucer said. His anger boiled up and threatened for a moment to spill over, but suddenly he saw another side of things. "All that's left is for this Captain Lucas to come up and watch my glory unfold." He smiled. "Fine. Let him come. He'll have precious little to do other than to watch the final act of this interminable war." Chaucer considered the idea. Although he hated the thought of someone being sent up from London to 'help' with the mission, he could see the advantages of having someone available to witness his final victory. Lucas would have no option to report back to London that Chaucer's campaign had been a total success.
"There's something else, Sir," Withers said. "Heat scans of the forest detected three new individuals moving in from the south."
A small smile curled its way across Chaucer's lips. "Three figures?" he repeated. "It must be them."
"We don't have visual confirmation yet," Withers cautioned.
"I don't need visual confirmation," Chaucer said firmly. He turned to Withers. "I can tell it's them. I can feel it in the air. Can't you feel it, Withers? Don't you have that extra sense that tells you when your enemy is nearby?"
Withers sniffed and thought about it for a moment. "Not really sure, Sir."
Chaucer shook his head, despairing of Withers. "Have you ever heard of Duncan?" he asked.
Withers took a deep breath. "Only when you've talked about him, Sir." And that was true: Chaucer talked about Duncan a lot. Sometimes, he seemed to be obsessed with him. "I know you want to get him, Sir."
Chaucer nodded. "Duncan is the most slippery of all the werewolves. He's the one with the brains, the one who left this estate to go down and live in London, and who then came crawling back up here. That's why we've been waiting, because I had to be sure that he was here before we launched the final attack. But he's here now. He's on the estate. And now we're ready to close the net and squeeze the life out of Duncan and his little friends." Chaucer couldn't help but smile at the thought of his imminent victory. "What time is it?"
"1:15am, Sir," Withers said.
"We'll strike immediately," Chaucer said.
"You don't want to wait until darkness?" Withers asked.
"Definitely not," Chaucer replied. "They'll be expecting that. It'll give them time to plan, time to come up with some devious way to try to escape. No, the best thing to do is to strike right now, because Duncan has a chance to talk the others into making a final stand. They're demoralized, they're ready to die. Waiting is a fool's game. If we move immediately, we can have those final werewolves captured, ripped apart and vaporized by sundown."
"Everything's ready," Withers said. "The troops are all in position, the vaporizers are fully charged, the jets are in position and awaiting your orders."
Chaucer nodded and took a deep breath. He surveyed the peaceful scene of the estate one final time. "It almost seems a shame," he said, "to have to cause such horror and carnage in such a beautiful place." He sighed. "But when a place is invested with vermin, you have to flush them out, even if you do a little damage in the process. This place, this land,
will recover once the werewolves are gone. One day it will be a beautiful, barren wilderness again, a place of peace. But in order for that peace to be established, it would have to have a violent birth. The land would have to be cleared. The werewolves would have to be ground into dust and vaporized
"Captain Lucas will be here in approximately six hours," said Withers.
"Fine," Chaucer said. "He'll be just in time to see Duncan and the other miserable werewolves being destroyed." He switched on his radio. "This is Chaucer. Operation Lupine Howl begins now."
Jess
"Here," says Robin, pointing to the grass. There's a large red stain, spreading all across this part of the valley. Blood in the grass, blood on the trees, blood in the soil. Blood everywhere. More blood than you can imagine. Even stepping on the ground here, it's wet with blood and it makes a squelching sound. Robin takes a deep breath. "This is it. This is where the Wolf King fell."
"How?" Duncan asks, his voice solemn as he stares at the blood.
Robin indicates a path toward the crest of the valley. There's blood all the way. "They knocked him out using poison-tipped silver bullets. Then they used knives to rip him open. While he recovered, they dragged him up there. That's where they fed him into their machine. I saw it happen." He pauses. "I saw it happen to others, too. And if we don't come up with something, it'll happen to us. All of us."
I look over at Darla, but her gaze - like Duncan's - is fixed on the patch of blood. I step over to her.
"This Wolf King," I ask quietly, "was he the leader of the werewolves?"
"He was the strongest," says Darla. "And the wisest. The oldest, too, maybe. And he was supposed to be the one who would defeat the humans."
"I guess..." I start to say, but then I realize that there's nothing I can say. It's as if Duncan and Darla were convinced that the Wolf King would know what to do, but now their last hope has been snatched away.
"He was warned," Darla says. "He was told that if he continued to negotiate with the humans, eventually they'd turn on him. But he didn't believe that. He believed in honor He was honorable himself, and he believed that others would be honorable as well. I guess that's what caused his downfall." She turns to Duncan. "So what now? Have you come up with any great plans yet?"
Duncan just stares at the blood.
"Come on," Darla continues. "You're supposed to be a fucking genius, right? Get us out of this mess. Work out how we're gonna fight off hundreds of humans."
"Darla..." I say.
"No!" she interrupts. "We thought the Wolf King would come up with a plan, and he didn't. He died. And now we're supposed to wait for Duncan to come up with a plan, and so far I don't see anything that gives me much hope." She stares at Duncan. "It's time to stop talking about coming up with a plan, and it's time to actually come up with one. People are relying on you, Duncan, and you're gonna let them down."
"There must be a way," Duncan says slowly, but his voice betrays the fact that he clearly doesn't believe his own words. He looks at Robin. "It must be a trick. The Wolf King has done this so that he can fool the humans. They think he's dead, but really he's... he's... he's in hiding somewhere, he's planning something, he's... he's..."
"He's dead," says Robin.
"That's what he wants everyone to think," Duncan says, an air of desperation in his voice.
"He's dead!" Robin says again, more firmly this time.
Duncan closes his eyes.
"I saw it with my own eyes," says Robin. "The humans are ruthless. They knew exactly what they were dong, they went straight for him. At first he stood strong. He killed many humans, some of this blood is theirs. Most of it, though, is his. You know what he was like. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to succeed. I thought he was going to single-handedly take down every single human. But..." Robin takes a deep breath. "Even when they overran him, he refused to go down without a fight. He was so proud. So brave. But there were so many of them. I think he knew, at the end, that he wasn't going to make it. They hauled him to their machine, and there was a look in his eyes. I swear to God, he was defiant until the very last moment and then, right as they were throwing him into the machine, the expression in his eyes changed. It was as if, right at the very last moment, he was... scared."
"He wasn't scared," Duncan says. "The Wolf King would never show fear."
"Maybe," says Robin. "But you didn't see his face. And the humans were celebrating. They knew that if they could get the Wolf King, they'd break the resolve of most of us. And it's worked."
"It hasn't worked!" Duncan spits back at him.
"You haven't seen the others," says Robin. "Morale is down. They all think it's inevitable now, that there's no way we can fight back. Some of them are just trying to work out what would be the most honorable way to die." He takes a deep breath. "Tell me, Duncan. What's the most honorable way for an entire species to die?"
"That won't happen," Duncan says. "There's a way. There's always a way. No matter how bad things look -"
"Yeah yeah yeah," says Darla. "No matter how bad things look, there's always a way out. You keep saying that, but things look pretty bad right now and I don't see any sign that you've got an answer."
Duncan says nothing. I don't think I've ever seen him as shocked as this. He was truly counting on being able to meet with this Wolf King creature and come up with a plan. Now that plan is ruined, and Duncan is on his own. Suddenly the weight of the whole pack, the weight of the future of the entire werewolf species, has fallen on Duncan's shoulders. I don't think he was expecting such responsibility, and I'm not sure he can handle it.
"The humans will attack at sundown," Robin says firmly. "We don't have long if we're going to come up with a plan."
"Sundown?" Duncan asks. "Why would they wait until sundown? They'll probably send in ground forces any minute. Hell, they're probably already moving in. They're probably on their way right now."
"So what do we do?" Robin asks.
Silence descends upon our little group for a moment. It's a sad, desperate silence as we stand in that valley of blood. All around us is a red stained reminder of failure. Of death.
"This might sound crazy," I say eventually. "But isn't there some merit to the idea that we could just... run?" Everyone looks at me as if I've just said something crazy. "I'm serious," I say. "We get all the survivors together, and we run. We regroup. We find somewhere else, and we live to fight another day."
Duncan shakes his head. "By now, this whole place is going to be surrounded. There's no way out."
"But we could try," I insist.
"No," says Duncan. "It wouldn't work."
"There's no shame in running!" I say. "We can regroup, we can buy some time!"
"You're both right," says Robin. He looks at me. "You're right that there's no shame in running. There's little honor to be had in fighting a battle you can't win." He turns to Duncan. "But you're right, that the time for running is over. They have all the exits covered. You're lucky you were even able to get in here in the first place."
"Yes," says Duncan, seemingly confused by the situation. "Almost too lucky, if you think about it. Almost as if -."
"So we hide," I say, interrupting.
Duncan shakes his head again. "They're probably using thermal cameras, sonar, everything. There's nowhere to go, there's nothing to do except fight or..."
"Or die," Darla says. Everyone looks at her. "That's the one thing none of you have thought about, isn't it?" she says. "Maybe it's our time."
"Darla..." I say.
"No," she insists. "Think about it. Werewolves have lived on this planet for longer than any of us know. But maybe that time is over. All things have to pass eventually. Maybe it's our destiny to leave this life, to leave this place. Maybe -"
"We won't die," says Duncan, interrupting. "We'll -"
"Yeah yeah yeah, we'll find a way," says Darla. "I know. You keep saying that. And you keep saying that when it comes down to it, you'll find a way for us to win. Well
, look around, Duncan. We've reached that point now. There's no more time left for promises, no more time for saying you'll come up with something later. We need that plan now. Right now. So come on, out with it!"
"There's still time," Duncan says.
"No there isn't," Darla says.
"There is," says Duncan, but I'm not sure even he believes it anymore. He turns to Robin. "Where are the survivors?"
"I'll take you there," Robin says. He starts leading us through the trees. Duncan sticks with him, but Darla and I hang back a little.
"There might still be a way out, you know," Darla says to me, keeping her voice low. "If you want to run, you might still have a chance. It's a better chance than standing here and -"
"I'm not leaving you and Duncan behind," I say.
"If you want to live," she replies, "you might have no choice. Duncan's not going to leave, is he? And I feel like I have to stay, even if every bone in my body is telling me to run. But you? You've been a werewolf for a few weeks. No-one would blame you if you turned and tried to make a break. You're not a full werewolf, we both know that."
I shake my head.
"It's true," she says. "No matter how much you deny it, I can see it in your eyes. Your human side is strong. Most people, when they get converted, they embrace the wolf life and their human side falls away. But you, you can't do that. Your human side is strong. I don't think you'll ever get rid of it entirely. So maybe you don't belong here."
We walk on.
"I can't," I say. "I chose to come here. I'm here. Now I have to..." My voice trails off. The truth is, I'm not quite sure what to do. I feel a little bit like I've followed Duncan all the way to Scotland without asking enough questions. I assumed that he'd be able to come up with an idea, to make everything okay. But he seems lost and confused, as if all his plans have fallen apart. Looking at him, he doesn't seem to be in any position to work out a plan. And that worries me.
Suddenly Duncan and Robin stop ahead of us, and they both turn. Darla and I turn, but I don't see anything behind us.
"What?" I ask.