by Mac Flynn
"Mind your manners in front of a lady," Rick hissed.
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "And what am I?"
"You're something else, but there's no sense talking about this on an empty stomach," Rick countered.
"Arthur, would you serve them while I find Becky some clothes?" Martha requested.
"I would be glad to, Martha," Stewart agreed. "If you would sit over here, gentlemen."
I snorted as I was separated from the 'gentlemen' and directed to one of two doors on the wall of left of the dining area. Behind the door lay the Stewarts' bedroom, and Mrs. Stewart plopped me on the wooden-framed bed and rummaged through her closet for clothes.
"I really appreciate you giving me some clothes, Mrs. Stewart," I spoke up.
She pulled out a simple shirt with jeans and chuckled. "Please, call me Martha, and this really isn't any trouble. We can't have you travel so far and go through so much just to have you catch your death of cold. Now let's see if these fit you while I find some socks and other articles for you to wear. Then you can take a shower and put them on for dinner."
In a few minutes I was dressed and feeling like a human again instead of a fur-less wolf. There was even a bathroom off to the side where I could wash up for the meal. They had an impressive hot water tank because I created a sauna room taking my shower. It felt wonderful to be clean, but standing in the warm water my mind couldn't help but wander back to Luke and our farewell. I pressed my forehead against the wall and tears slid down my cheeks to mingle with the non-salty water at my feet.
"Damn it, why'd you have to be so brave?" I whispered. I closed my eyes and sighed. "Well, you'd better still be alive, or I'll kill you."
The threat made me feel better. No mate would dare be dead and risk facing the wrath of their female companion. I got out of the shower, dressed, and hoped there was food left. I found Rick, Steve, and Becky at the table with Martha in the kitchen doling out more food into the bowls for the table. Rick sat with one of their backpacks at his feet and shoveled in the food in his own way of showing his appreciation to the chef. Steve had Becky's attention, or rather, Becky had Steve's attention as she barraged him with questions.
"So humans can only jump a few feet?" she asked him.
"Mostly," he told her through a mouthful of food.
"How do you climb on rocks?"
"Uh, very carefully, or we go around them."
"That would take too long."
"We don't really have a choice," he pointed out.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-three."
"That's neat. I bet you get to do a lot of fun stuff at your age." Steve was relieved when she turned to Rick. "You must be two hundred because you look really old." Steve choked on the glass of water he'd been drinking and a snort escaped my lips as I came up to the table. Rick stopped mid-chew and scowled at Becky. The little innocent was unfazed by his glare.
The day was saved when Martha hurried back to the table with a bowl of food and put some food on my plate. "Let the poor men eat, Abby, and eat your vegetables," she scolded her daughter.
"But Mom, I don't get to talk to a human much," Abby argued.
"That's no excuse to be bothering him," she countered as she seated herself.
I took a seat in one of two empty chairs and noticed Stewart was missing. "Where's Mr. Stewart?" I asked the group.
"He will return in a few minutes, he merely wanted to tell the good news to the others that you were found and safe," Martha told me.
"So they're not very far away?" I guessed.
"The headquarters are in the far field hay barn," she explained.
At that moment the front door opened and Stewart stepped inside, but he wasn't alone. With him were Burnbaum, as smiling as ever, and Protector Brier in his most dour. A warning scowl from Martha told the men to take off their boots, and then they strode over to our table.
Burnbaum opened his arms wide. "It is good being good to see you!" he cried out as he wrapped me in a hug so tight it separated me from my chair and the air in my lungs.
"Glad to see you, too, Mr. Burnbaum," I choked out.
He plopped me on my feet and looked me over. "You are a fine werewolf now, I can tell by your scent. It is a very good scent."
"Burnbaum, we didn't come here to talk about scents," Protector Brier spoke up. He turned his attention to me. "We were wondering what information you could give us on the compound and what Connor's plans are."
"Mr. Brier, at dinner? Surely it can wait until tomorrow," Martha scolded him.
"The more time we waste the more time Connor has to escape us," he countered.
Burnbaum laughed and patted Brier on the back so hard the smaller man stumbled forward. "There will be time to speak after dinner. This food is too good to waste on talk of strategy and enemies."
Brier scowled and turned away. "I've had my dinner, so if you would excuse me," he mumbled. He strode from the house and shut the door behind him.
Burnbaum sighed and shook his head. Marsha grabbed an extra chair for Burnbaum and he sat down at the table with us. "He is is no good mood since we left Sanctuary. I think it is his blaming himself for running, but there was nothing for us to do. Simpling would listen to no one but that sheriff. He even refuses to be called by the title of Protector, and insists on being called Adam."
"The sheriff is his brother. Perhaps he's troubled by the possibility they may have to face one another on opposite sides of the battlefield," Stewart suggested.
Burnbaum chuckled. "No, there is no love between them. It is all in Adam's pride. He disliked to leave Sanctuary, but Simpling was not the trouble. It was that Connor. He controlled people like puppets, and we need to destroy his control or no one will be free." Burnbaum perked up when he looked at me. "What do I say? Not very good things when we have much to celebrate. You are safe now, and you will tell us much about the compound and Connor's plans."
"I'll try. He was pretty chatty when he had us cornered in the compound," I replied.
"Good! His chattiness is weakness, and weakness helps us," Burnbaum pointed out.
"You have a lot of optimism for this suicide rebellion," Rick spoke up. He leaned one elbow on the table, but removed it when Martha gave him a warning look. "I've seen what they have for security, and it isn't going to be easy getting through it."
"That is less problem now that we have learned they are taking convoy out of compound," Burnbaum revealed.
Rick frowned. "So they're trying to run for it?"
"The reason for their moving we do not know. We only know they are preparing trucks in compound. We hoped you could tell us why they are moving," Burnbaum replied.
I shrugged. "I'm not really sure. The Manutia compound-" I paused as a thought struck me. "Was Mullen in charge of Manutia?" I asked them.
Stewart nodded his head. "Yes, he was the lord of that region, why?"
"Well, he's dead now, and Lance-er, Connor was the one who ordered him killed. He said he wasn't useful anymore. Maybe Connor doesn't need the facility anymore, either," I suggested.
Burnbaum stroked his beard. "That is possible. If it is true then we know where they go and can stop them."
"No, you can't," Rick spoke up. "It would take an army to stop all the trucks and guys they have, and I don't know how many you have but I doubt it's going to be enough."
Burnbaum frowned at him. "We will try. We must."
"No arguing at the table," Martha scolded them. "Tomorrow will be enough time to discuss the fate of-"
Fate had other plans as the front door crashed open.
12
The battering ram was Brier, and he collapsed on his back onto the ground five yards inside the front door. Those at the table jumped to their feet except Rick who dove down, and Martha swept Abby into her arms. We werewolves smelled no one, but in stepped Sheriff Brier with a dozen other werewolves, all in their human forms. He had a smirk on his face and a cold glint in his eyes.
"It
seems our noses didn't lead us astray. We've found ourselves quite the rat hole, and now only need to exterminate them," he quipped.
Brier's victory was short-lived because a hail of bullets sped between our legs and hit his and any other werewolf legs that were visible through the door. Brier and friends collapsed on the ground crying out in pain as the silver bullets left nice, steaming holes in their bodies. Rick maniacally laughed beneath the table with his hot-barreled Uzi in his hand. "There's your rat poison!" he hollered.
Stewart turned to his family. "Get Abby out the bedroom!" he ordered her. She nodded and hurried into their bedroom, locking the door behind her. A little voice inside me envied them, but I had work to do and pushed it aside in favor of the loud, growling voice that wanted to beat the hell out of my enemies.
Adam was reviving on the floor making Rick's firing too dangerous to risk since he lay in the bullet-crossing zone. I noticed Burnbaum and Stewart transform, and joined them in becoming furry, fuzzy, kick-ass machines. The sheriff and his group rallied as the wounded were dragged outside and others recovered from their wounds enough to transform. Sheriff Brier was one of those who retreated, though he issued orders to his troops. "Kill them!" he growled.
We dove at their group, they dove at ours, and the wrestling match of claws and fangs begun over the dizzied Adam Brier. This was a partial death-match. They meant to play for keeps, but we had other things on our mind. I noticed Burnbaum didn't try to kill any of his men, just knock them out. Stewart did the same, and Brier just tried to roll out of the way. Rick and Steve lay under the table with their guns pointed at everyone and making friend and foe alike very nervous. I had my teeth full of one large, burly werewolf. Literally, I had my teeth on his hind leg and tried to drag him out the door. He whipped around and snapped at me, but I was small and stringy, making me not worth eating nor an easy catch.
I evaded his snapping jaws by jumping onto his head and slamming the full force of my dainty body into the floor. I bemoaned the destruction of such beautiful wooden floors as he ate floor board, but it was for a good cause. That knocked him out cold, and everyone else had similar success with their opponents. Those werewolves were experienced in trained combat, but we weren't trained combat. Tail biting, leg gnawing, and hopping off furniture and their heads was our chaotic way of fighting. Guerrilla combat, but in wolf suits.
Just as I finished hopping up and down a few times on my wolf I heard a shout from outside. It came from the rear of the house. I saw Stewart lift his head and perk up his ears, but his inattention led him to getting socked in the jaw with the head of his foe. He wrestled with the werewolf, unable to break from the fight, so I ran over to the table and peeked my head under the cloth. Steve yelped and Rick aimed one of his rifles at my nose.
"Don't shoot!" I yelped.
Rick pulled the gun away and scowled at me. "Don't go shoving your head under a table when we're at war!"
"I need you two to come with me," I ordered them.
"We're not going nowhere until-" Rick shut his trap when I narrowed my eyes and growled at him. "Where were you needing us to go?"
"Outside. I heard something," I explained.
I pulled out from the table and rushed to the bedroom with the two at my tail. I rammed my shoulder against the door, breaking it into bits and seriously injuring myself in the process. A few muscles were strained and the wooden door and its new splinters left deep gashes in my flesh. We found the window open and cries were heard outside.
"Let go of her!" I heard Martha yell.
I raced over to the window, did a perfect vault through it, and landed two yards from the house. By the light of the moon on the ridge above the house were four shadows, one of them half the size of the others. Two of the shadows struggled in the grasp of the others. I growled and leapt forward as Rick and Steve exited the window. "Wait!" Rick yelled at me, but I ignored him.
Someone was attacking Becky and Martha, and they weren't going to get away with it. I raced up the hill toward the shadows with the two humans lagging behind. My wolf eyes trained on the unfamiliar forms at the peak of the slope and my breath caught in my throat when I recognized the faces of Emily and Ian. I had no chance against even one of them, and here I was charging both of them with Martha and Abby in the middle.
My anger sped me on to probable defeat, but it sped me fast enough that they caught my scent and sight of me just ten yards from them. Emily held Becky, but she tossed the girl at Ian who had Martha in his clutches. There was a smile on her face and a glint in her eyes. "Time for some real fun," she commented.
Emily transformed and collided with me five yards from their small group. I tried my best and got in a couple of good bites, but after two minutes she had me by the scruff of my neck and sat her weight atop me to push me to the ground. Ian strode over to us with a smirk on his face and Martha and Abby in tow. "Not bad for a novice werewolf, but you need another fifty years of practice to get as good as us," he commented.
"Let them go!" I demanded.
Emily chuckled against my flesh and fur. She released my scruff, but didn't get off me. "You act as though we're wild animals intent on hurting them. We only wanted to make sure they didn't run off and tell any others about this little party of ours."
"Tell me when the fun starts," I snapped.
Ian tilted his head to one side and listened for a moment. "I believe the fun's almost over. Your friends put up a good fight, but being outnumbered and outclassed does tend to lead to failure." He was right, I could hear less fighting sounds coming from the house. Somebody was losing, and I had a bad feeling it wasn't the bad guys.
"We always have a Plan B," I quipped, thinking of Steve and Rick. I could still smell them, even if I couldn't see them, and they were approaching.
"What the hell are you two doing up here?" a voice spoke up behind us. We all turned to see Sheriff Brier limping up the hill. Behind him was a human werewolf and in his hands was Steve and Rick. They were disarmed and roughed up with cuts and bruises, but otherwise unharmed. There went Plan B.
"You were saying?" Emily asked me.
"I was saying you guys were the only monsters here," I told her.
Brier strode up to Ian and his captives, and chuckled. "It never ceases to amuse me when somebody starts whining about monsters this and monsters that." He stood over Abby and leered down at her. "Kind of waters down the meaning, don't it?"
"You stay away from her!" Martha growled. She had her arms pinned behind her back by a single hand from Ian, but her struggles couldn't loosen herself from his grip.
"We won't hurt you if you cooperate," Emily reminded her.
"Speak for yourself," Brier spoke up. He grabbed Abby by her hair and pulled her from Ian's surprised grasp.
Brier walked away from our little group as Martha twisted and pulled in Ian's grasp. "Let her go! Leave her alone!" the distraught mother screamed.
Ian pressed his hand against her mouth to quiet her, but he glared at Brier. "What the hell are you doing?"
Brier turned to face us and I heard the crunch of grass as others approached from the house. Judging from the lack of smell I knew who's side they were on. "Connor left instructions not to leave anyone alive to know what happened, and that includes kids," Brier explained.
"Connor isn't willing to get his hands dirty with this mess, and can't tell us what to do. Cranston's our leader," Emily snapped. "We only answer to Cranston, and if Connor thinks he can be our leader then he's dead wrong."
Brier smirked and pulled out the gun on his hip. "Funny thing you should mention dead because that's what Connor told me to do to you once the rebel leaders were caught."
"Cranston would never agree to this!" Ian exclaimed.
"Cranston thought so at first, but now that he's got a little whiff of Connor's formula he's a little preoccupied with his wild side at the moment, so I wouldn't worry about him any more. Not since Connor knows about her helping them at the maze garden, and he doesn't think she's trustw
orthy enough to the cause," Brier replied. "You're safe, Ian, but interfere and I've been told I don't need to worry about saving a seat for you at the victory table."
Emily smirked at Brier, and I felt some of her weight lift off me. "Maybe this isn't such a good cause after all," she commented. She turned to Ian. "What do you think?"
He turned up his nose at her. "I think you're out of your mind," he returned.
Her face fell and I felt her stiffen above me. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you being jealous of the great and powerful Connor," Ian explained to her. "You're jealousy is jeopardizing this important and history-defining mission of ours, and-"
"Traitor!" she growled. She jumped at him, freeing me from her grasp.
"Catch!" Ian yelled at Brier as he passed Martha to him.
"W-what?" Brier yelped. He lost his hold on Abby who fell to the ground cowering at his feet.
Martha, free of restraint for a moment and pushed toward the abuser of her child, wasn't going to lose a chance to get some revenge. She lengthened her claws and collided into his, piercing his large belly with her sharp fingers. Brier cried out in agony, threw her to the side, and glared at Ian. Emily leapt at him, and he deftly caught her hands in his own and spun in a complete circle. At the completion of the three-sixty he released her and she flew toward the werewolves behind Brier who still held Steve and Rick.
Emily laughed as she collided with the surprised werewolves while the two humans screamed. All five of them rolled down the hill toward the house with Emily getting in hits against the werewolves while the other four just tried not to be on the bottom of the pile when the hard ground came around. Brier watched them disappear down the slope with his jaw dropped to his chubby neck, but he shook himself and turned to Ian. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled.
Ian smiled and shrugged. "Just helping the cause." I noticed his eyes flickered to me and then back to Brier.
My eyes widened as I realized their argument was just an act, and it was my turn to join the play. I leapt at Brier while Martha grabbed Abby and ran toward the trees. Brier aimed his gun at them, but my strong jaws crunched down on his wrist and I felt bones snap beneath my powerful teeth. He screamed and dropped the gun, but grabbed my scruff with his other hand. This scruff-grabbing was getting real annoying, so I rocked my lower feet forward and knocked my rear legs into his face. Brier clutched his face with his only working hand and I was free to drop to the ground.