Lycan Fallout (Book 2): Fall of Man (39 page)

“It’s do or die time, Mathieu.”

“It is already beginning. I can feel the pull of the moon on every fiber of my being. I am as powerless to stop it as the tide is from washing ashore.”

“Upstairs or outside?” I liked Mathieu, but I could not spare the time to watch him, not right now.

“Outside.” It sounded gruff, like he had swallowed some pebbles previously and they were lodged in his throat.

I led him out, he walked stiff-legged as we headed to the wall. Shots were still firing as Bailey’s men kept finding those who had not yet succumbed to their injuries. The wall was standing room only, which given the circumstances is a poor joke. Our forces had almost tripled, that’s not nearly as impressive as it sounds, from a little over a hundred and fifty to a little over four hundred.

Mathieu and I joined Azile up on that wall, those nearby giving us some breathing room, not because there was much to give, but because they wanted to be as far away from us as was humanly possible. We all watched as the leading edge of the moon broke over the plane of the horizon. The snapping of bones next to me was thankfully drowned out by the screams of those out on the field changing over. Mathieu would grunt from time to time. I lifted my rifle and began to transition the prospective werewolves from one existence to another.

I was just replacing my spent magazine when Mathieu howled next to me. I turned to look over my right shoulder, wondering if I had just made a huge error in judgment. His massive head swiveled from its upraised position so that he was looking right at me, his elongated snout nearly touching my face. I think if he had snaked his tongue out, he would have been able to lick my nose. I mean, I’m thankful he didn’t, I’m just saying that’s how close he was. He took in a long inhalation and then, I guess not liking my scent, wrinkled his muzzle. His yellow eyes were trained on mine. Neither of us moved for long seconds.

“We alright?” I finally asked him.

His head cocked to the side, sort of like Oggie’s would if I asked him if he wanted a snack. It was as cute as this sort of thing could be when you’re staring into the face of a monster. If we lived through the night, I might tell him about it. Although, on second thought, probably not. Be kind of weird to tell a full-grown man he does a puppy tilt thing with his head. 

It was quiet for the moment as we both stared out onto the field. The calm was so great, even the insects had started up their night song. That changed fast. I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise as the howls of a thousand werewolves pierced the night. I knew then, that this was over.

The fat lady wasn’t singing because she was dead from a brain hemorrhage.

Werewolves erupted from the tree line like they’d been shot from it. The cracking of a couple of hundred rifles met them headlong. Some werewolves would tumble and fall from a kill shot, but most seemed to be absorbing the bullets rather than being impacted by them. The werewolves had covered half of the four hundred yards of open expanse and were paying dearly for the land grab, yet they still hadn’t stopped emerging from the trees.

Mathieu was growling and doing everything in his power to not jump down and either meet the foe or join with them. Who knows.

“My God, there are thousands of them. Where could they have possibly gotten this many people?” Bailey had asked.

“They’re not people now.” I was firing so rapidly, the barrel of my weapon was heating up.

It was useless, and there wasn’t a man or woman on that wall who didn’t realize we were fighting a losing battle. I had to give it to them; none of them ran, although there really wasn’t anywhere they could go. Wasn’t like this was the front lines to a battle and they could desert to their homes a thousand miles away. This was home. Stand and win or fall and die. Hundreds of werewolves lay on that ground, and not one of the beasts next to them grieved. Up and over the fallen they loped. We were seconds from contact.

“FIX BAYONETS!” I don’t know how much success I had shouting out that command, but at least those around me who had one on hand spent a moment to do just that. The werewolves were close enough now that they were making leaps for the wall. Some successfully and were already fighting with those on the wall, some falling short leaving gaping claw marks in the rough-hewn pickets of the fence. More and more werewolves had made it on to the wall, some even breaching past the defenders and heading for the defenseless inhabitants.

“This cannot be!” Bailey was shrieking. She had just impaled a werewolf in the throat in mid-flight. She had received a bloody swipe across her thigh for her efforts. Screams were coming from buildings within the town as residents had their first and last encounter with the enemy. We weren’t fighting to defend anymore; just that quick, we were fighting for our lives. Talbotons were falling fast. I watched a grisly demise as a small woman was pulled in half by two werewolves fighting over her.

Mathieu had finally got into the fray. As a werewolf leaped for Azile, Mathieu’s paw swiped over the top of my head, ripping the nose free from the invader. Blood sprayed across my face as the werewolf fell to the ground, whining. I put two bullets into it to shut it down.

“Bailey, we have to pull back!” I grabbed her shoulder. She spun, wide-eyed. Not only were people falling, but the fence was as well. Werewolves were slamming into it and splintering the heavy wood.

“Pull back?” she asked, defeated. “Pull back where?”

That was a damned good question, one for which I had no answer for. Mathieu was attacking werewolves as if he blamed each and every one of them personally for what had gone wrong in his life. If the werewolves attacking had been confused at first with this turning of their supposed ally, they were over it now as more often than not he became their favorite target. Azile was doing that lip moving, spell reading shit, paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around her.

“We’ve got to go!” I told all those who would listen. I draped Azile over my shoulder like I would an old blanket. She didn’t protest or say anything really, so I took that as a good sign. “Bailey, come on!” I urged.

I had no sooner come down off the parapet than Gount came running towards me. He’d gotten close, maybe fifteen feet, before the claws of a werewolf emerged from his mid-section like a probing alien. Blood flew from his mouth like ejecta. I riddled his corpse and the werewolf behind him with bullets. As he fell to the ground, his hand popped open. In it was a key. Bailey was stumbling after me like she’d just polished off a bottle of Jeff Daniels. Did I remember that drink wrong? Mathieu was watching the back of our retreat as more and more werewolves sprang into the town.

Fires raged all around us, turned over lanterns and candles catching nearly everything ablaze. It was a clusterfuck. People were screaming—at least the ones who were still alive. People were running in all different directions, some blindly, into the literal mouths of the enemy. I was heading for the vault, as it was the only place we’d have a chance. The only question that remained was would we make it there. I should have kept on running when I heard the scream. It really would have been in my best interests.

“BAILEY! Take Azile and get to the vault.” She was going into shock, I slapped her hard enough to hurt my hand and, I’m sure, rattle her teeth. “Now!” I just about tossed Azile into her arms. “Mathieu, follow them.”

He thundered past me, never acknowledging my command. He did so in gesture, though, which was far more important. I ran quickly to the hotel. Lana was pushed back in the far corner wielding a sword. Where she had gotten that, I have no idea, but that wasn’t really the issue. It was the two werewolves she was barely holding at bay. I cannot even tell you how hard I pulled on a trigger that was not going to work. Sort of surprised I didn’t snap the curved metal. My bolt was open, signifying I had no rounds. I plunged forward, screaming as I shoved the bayonet into the small of the back of the werewolf that was closest.

He howled even as he was turning, his forearm catching me in the shoulder and sending me spinning away. I crashed through chairs and tables coming to rest on the far side of the room. He turned to finish what I had started. My rifle was incredibly still stuck into his back, like an extra tail. The second werewolf took that most inopportune of times to see what his wingman was up to. Lana did not hesitate as she plunged her sword through his midsection. Unlike me, she was much quicker to pull back and withdraw from his defensive swing. When he missed he went towards her. I lost sight of their battle as my werewolf blocked the view in his haste to get to me. I stood before he could get over all the obstacles between us. His mouth was open, and incredibly large fangs hung down, strings of red drool hanging from them. At first I figured that to be the blood of his victims until more and more of it began to drop from his mouth. Apparently, I’d cut through something fairly important within him. Now, if he’d just have the good graces to die, I could get this fight over with.

I picked up a chair and was holding it in between us. The werewolf grabbed it and wrenched it free, splintering it against the wall next to us. Hand-to-hand combat with a werewolf did not sound like my idea of a good time. But that was what I was prepared to do, at least until I saw the point of a sword protrude from the side of his neck. Blood jettisoned from the wound as the werewolf went to his knees. Lana pulled her blade back and gave him a blow to the side of the neck that lodged the sword in at least four inches. He fell over to the side.

“You saved me!” Lana shouted.

“Umm, I’m not really sure that’s how that happened,” I told her as I looked over to where the other werewolf lay in a pool of its own blood. “Come on, we have to go.” I grabbed her arm, but looked back to the two werewolves she had killed.

The town was a maelstrom of disaster. I was having a hard time reconciling the damage. It was entirely too surreal. Werewolves were running around tearing through people. Buildings were on fire, the fence had come down in a half a dozen spots. Shots were still being fired, but I could not tell from what direction. Lana had struck out with her sword, chopping through the side of a werewolf; it was too late for whomever the animal had been eating. That it was a small figure was not lost on me. I buried my axe into the back of the werewolf’s skull before he could turn and attack. When we hit the path behind the hotel, the noise subsided, the foliage partially blocking out the sounds of death and destruction. Now all I could hear was our heavy breathing as Lana and I made our way as quickly as possible to what we hoped was some semblance of safety.

The woods took on an ominous feel. I was expecting an attack at any moment. I couldn’t decide if I wanted Lana to be behind me or in front, as danger was all around. A piercing scream came from the town and was then overshadowed by multiple werewolves howling.

“That wasn’t too far off. Run, Lana, they’re coming.”

She did, and I made sure to stay on her heels, always keeping a look out to our six. I could hear the rustling of bushes behind us, but did not see anything as we came up on the door. I about had a heart attack when Lana screamed. Mathieu, in all his monstrous glory, was standing at the door. I’m not going to lie, I thought that perhaps he had killed everyone and was now waiting for us so that he could do the same. The door pushed open a little further, Azile urged us on in. It was going to be a long time before that burst of adrenaline worked its way through my system.

Lana ducked under Mathieu’s arm and into the bunker. I squeezed Mathieu’s arm as I passed in as well. His head swiveled down to look at me. I’d swear his eyebrows pulled close in a questioning gesture. I can’t imagine he’d seen too many human emotions in this form except terror, certainly not thankfulness. I shook my head when Mathieu looked at me. He let the door shut behind him. It was not a comforting feeling having him literally breathing down my neck. It was exactly how you would imagine it would be. I could feel the heat traveling down my collar line, basting my neck and back, I’m sure adding more moisture to an already sweat-soaked area.

We had just gotten down to the bottom of the stairs when something heavy collided with the door up top. I was hopeful it was more people, right up until we heard the deep claw scratches of werewolves trying to get in. They tried for a few more minutes before they decided they wanted back in on the action at town.

The door to the armory was open as was the one that led to the hidden tunnel. Bailey was in the escape tunnel along with twenty or so other survivors. She was sitting with her back up against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees, crying. I could never picture her becoming so small and not just physically. She was spiritually diminished as well. She was not taking the fall of Talboton well; for that was what had happened. Even in a few hours when the moon had passed there would be little left. I sat next to her. She stiffened at first. I did not attempt to touch her, nor did I attempt to talk to her. I just sat next to her.

“I was wrong,” she told me after a time. “I’ve been wrong so many times.”

“Yup.” I paused for a moment.

She turned to look at me.

“We’re all wrong at some point, Bailey.”

“My wrong got people killed.”

“It’s a war, that’s generally the outcome. You’re not the first, Bailey, and sadly…you won’t be the last. I’ve been wrong, umm…a bunch of times. A lot of good people have died from my decisions as well. You were doing what you thought was right, you can’t fault yourself for that. I do not believe any choice you would have made tonight would have altered this outcome. There were just too many of them.”