Journals6
Newest
Chapter 4 - One Step at a Time
11 min read
Chapter 4
The nurse wheeled me out of the hospital, explaining all the while that I wasn't to over exert myself. My arm, while useable, was still injured and could break again if I strained myself. I wasn't supposed to drive, lift anything more than ten pounds, and if I wanted to walk anywhere I was supposed to use the set of crutches I had been given.
The highway we take home is normally busy all day but we hardly pass anyone as we start the drive home. I guess it's just a slow day, but before long we find a military checkpoint.
A dozen soldiers and a pair of M1 Abrams tanks are stationed on the highway. A line of cars on either side of the road are being checked two or three at a time.
"Why the hell, would they put up a checkpoint here?" I ask.
Uncle John gives me a look like I'm missing something obvious, "The mall was the first time in years that monsters have appeared in an urban area. The military is searching for something that might have caused the attack."
"So what? They think a demon is going to drive into town?" I ask, sarcastic now.
"That's exactly what they think. Do you remember what I told you about that imp that tried to escape the lab?"
"Ya, I remember. But making itself look like a lab tech to escape is a lot different than driving around town, I mean wouldn't bodies be piling up if a demon was on the loose."
"Demons are different from monsters Zame, they're more intelligent, and it is quite possible one may be trying to blend in with the human population," Uncle John responds.
As we inch closer to the checkpoint I start to pick out the ranks of men on duty. Mostly new recruits, a sergeant seems to be running things, sending the privates to check cars in teams of two. It looks like business as usual until I spot a pair of soldiers wearing the black plated armor of S.W.O.R.D.'s special operations unit.
The armor was expensive; every suit costs several thousands of dollars. Starting with a wetsuit made of polymerized Kevlar, titanium plates are attached to vital areas. The metal blackened and its shape varies depending on the soldier, while each suit starts the same it can be upgraded and modified constantly by its owner. Some have simple upgrades, extra thick plating and such, others opt for more technological oriented upgrades, optics or in a few cases weapons that were worked into the armor itself.
Uncle John helped develop some of the equipment, most importantly the detection software that tracks monsters. Just about everything from beyond the rifts is mildly radioactive; and by tracking the unique signature of the rifts we can track monsters rather easily. Unfortunately the detection software isn't as specific as we'd like; a strong signal far away seems the same as a weak signal up close and the strength varies on a half dozen factors, how long the monster has been in our world, the size of the creature, and so on.
These two officers were prime examples of how different the armor could be. The first is big, built like a linebacker; the plating of his armor is easily over an inch thick, but cut to allow him a full range of movement. He's carrying a M249 machine gun and an axe; and when I say axe, I don't mean for chopping wood, I mean axe the size of a car tire with a four foot handle. The second soldier has a slighter build, and with a half dozen small hilts sticking out from between the plates on his armor speed and precision over raw power. I can also spot the familiar silhouette of a M40 sniper rifle strapped to his back and a pair of pistols holstered at his waist.
After the rifts had opened soldiers were trained with melee weapons. Most monsters like to get in close, after numerous friendly fire incidents a sword or axe became standard issue to all military personnel.
Reaching the front of the line a pair of soldiers approach Uncle John's window, one carrying a small mirror in hand. The soldier gives Uncle John a once over with the mirror, paying particular attention to his eyes and teeth. As one scans and verifies Uncle John's ID the other starts asking questions.
As I watch and I'm startled by a sharp tap on my window. When I turn I'm surprised to see the larger of the two armored soldiers.
When I roll down the window, the officer begins speaking, "I thought I recognized you, you're that boy we found in the mall."
"You found me? I was told an officer brought me out but I didn't expect a member of S.W.O.R.D."
"Carried you out myself, you were covered in blood head to foot, glad to see you made it," he says.
"Thank you," I can't think of something else to say and sit staring at him. He looks giant in all the armor but up close, seeing his face, he couldn't be much older than me.
"Anytime, I never thought I'd see the day someone would take down a werewolf with only his fists," he chuckles a bit, "you ever think about signing up with us, we could use a guy like you?"
"I have, but I was planning on working at the research station with my Uncle."
He looks over at Uncle John who is still talking with one of the soldiers, "Well I guess that's almost as good, you find more ways to kill em and my brother and I will try them out. If your ever on the base drop by, just ask around for the Balewood brothers."
"Sure," I doubt I'll ever be on the base, they stopped letting nonmilitary personnel onto the base when S.W.O.R.D. moved in.
"Ok, boys let these two through, we've taken up enough of their time." He waves us through the checkpoint and moves off the road.
_ _ _ _ _
When we get back home Uncle John helps me to my room, I could tell already that the stairs were going to get annoying. Every other step a sharp pain goes through my leg. My room looks the same as the morning I left, even though Uncle John must have cleaned recently, not a speck of dust anywhere.
I sat at my desk and turn on my computer, I was sick of lying in bed all day.
"You need anything?" Uncle John asks, still by the door.
"No, I'll be fine. Just let me know when dinner is ready," I say.
"Ok, try and get some rest, your still recovering."
I feel like resting is all I've done the past few weeks. But I nod to Uncle John and turn back to the computer. I had planned to distract myself, but after a few minutes of an old RTS game I got bored, or maybe I just realized it was futile. After almost three months in the hospital I was a bit starved for information. I wanted to know what happened; Uncle John had been pretty tight lipped about the mall. Kept saying he'd tell me more when I was better. I booted up a search engine and looked up the mall, rather than sort through all of the random links I refined my search adding news and werewolf to the search.
It wasn't hard to find information after that. Fifty-three werewolves were confirmed within the mall, the last of them were killed shortly after the news teams arrived. There was no footage of the fighting, just reports and statistics; seventy-nine civilian casualties, 2 injured; and three soldiers killed, five injured.
That's it, Uncle John was right, two survivors; Chloe and Me. My mind is flooded with images from that day, screaming shoppers, howling wolves, Kevin lying against the wall of the food court, and blood lots of blood. I switch off the computer, looking up the mall had been a bad idea. I switch on the T.V. and climb into bed to wait for dinner, but all I see on the screen is colored blobs.
_ _ _ _ _
The next couple days pass in a blur, I eat and sleep little. My leg itches; the cast is a never-ending annoyance. I've taken to reading as a distraction, once I'm absorbed in the story I don't think about much else, or at least that's how it normally works, every few hours I have to put whatever I'm reading down, I can't seem to escape seeing the mall washed in red. My dreams alternate between twisted nightmares of blood and walks through the woods that are becoming all too familiar, the wolf's woods.
_ _ _ _ _
Reading again, an old favorite, Artemis Fowl. Somehow I've managed to wander while reading again it's the first time since I got the cast; I'm lying on the living room couch. My crutches are most likely still in my room, where I had started reading an hour ago. I'm rather amazed, my cast encases most of my leg, I can't walk strait with it; less yet go down the stairs. Getting back up will be a chore, but if I could get down the stairs I should be able to at least walk right?
I slide off the couch, careful not to bump my leg. Standing isn't a problem, now for walking; I head towards the kitchen while I'm down here I might as well get something to eat. Each step hurts, not as much as a broken bone should, but the cast cuts into my leg as I bend it and my restrained knee aches from trying to move against the cast.
Ignoring the call of leftover chicken I turn towards the training room. I'm used to working out every morning; I needed to feel my blood pumping again. The room looks the same as ever, weighted blades set along he left wall; a treadmill, two barbells and free weights on the right. The center of the room was empty and the floor was lightly padded.
I moved to the free weights and tried to lift a pair of 40's, my arm flared painfully before I could get the weights off the rack. I grabbed the 20's instead, the weight still hurt my arm but it was bearable. I moved my arm through its full range of motion, as long as I didn't try to move too fast my arm kept steady. It wasn't long before I put the weights down, my arm burned and stung but not in a bad way. I tried the treadmill next, but after the first few steps I knew it wouldn't work. The cast was too restricting I had to lift and move my foot awkwardly to keep my foot on the machine.
It was going to be a while before I could train like I used to. Still I think I'll come back to the training room tomorrow, it felt good to be moving around again.
_ _ _ _ _
When Uncle John got home he found me in the living room eating leftovers and watching some sort of old sitcom about a hospital. "How do you feel Zame, I see your apatite has finally returned," he says.
"I'm always hungry after I workout."
His eyes widened a bit at that, "Workout? You're supposed to be resting."
"Been resting for months I'm sick of resting. Do you think we can get this cast off sooner?" I ask, gesturing towards my encased leg.
"The doctor said he would check on it next month, it shouldn't be off before then… where are your crutches?"
"Upstairs I suppose, I guess I forgot about them," I shrug.
"Forgot," he pauses, and looks around. "How did you get downstairs without them, you shouldn't be walking with that cast. You won't be able to heal if you keep stressing it."
"I think that it's kind of healed already, I've been on and off it all day. Barely noticed the crutches were gone."
After a few more questions Uncle John calls the doctor and makes an appointment for the weekend. I start to head up the stairs while he's on the phone but he hangs up and insists on helping me. "Now don't get your hopes up the doctor says they'll take some x-rays but you should expect to be in that cast for at least another two weeks."
"Sure, sure, I'll try not to think about it."
_ _ _ _ _
The nurse wheeled me out of the hospital, explaining all the while that I wasn't to over exert myself. My arm, while useable, was still injured and could break again if I strained myself. I wasn't supposed to drive, lift anything more than ten pounds, and if I wanted to walk anywhere I was supposed to use the set of crutches I had been given.
The highway we take home is normally busy all day but we hardly pass anyone as we start the drive home. I guess it's just a slow day, but before long we find a military checkpoint.
A dozen soldiers and a pair of M1 Abrams tanks are stationed on the highway. A line of cars on either side of the road are being checked two or three at a time.
"Why the hell, would they put up a checkpoint here?" I ask.
Uncle John gives me a look like I'm missing something obvious, "The mall was the first time in years that monsters have appeared in an urban area. The military is searching for something that might have caused the attack."
"So what? They think a demon is going to drive into town?" I ask, sarcastic now.
"That's exactly what they think. Do you remember what I told you about that imp that tried to escape the lab?"
"Ya, I remember. But making itself look like a lab tech to escape is a lot different than driving around town, I mean wouldn't bodies be piling up if a demon was on the loose."
"Demons are different from monsters Zame, they're more intelligent, and it is quite possible one may be trying to blend in with the human population," Uncle John responds.
As we inch closer to the checkpoint I start to pick out the ranks of men on duty. Mostly new recruits, a sergeant seems to be running things, sending the privates to check cars in teams of two. It looks like business as usual until I spot a pair of soldiers wearing the black plated armor of S.W.O.R.D.'s special operations unit.
The armor was expensive; every suit costs several thousands of dollars. Starting with a wetsuit made of polymerized Kevlar, titanium plates are attached to vital areas. The metal blackened and its shape varies depending on the soldier, while each suit starts the same it can be upgraded and modified constantly by its owner. Some have simple upgrades, extra thick plating and such, others opt for more technological oriented upgrades, optics or in a few cases weapons that were worked into the armor itself.
Uncle John helped develop some of the equipment, most importantly the detection software that tracks monsters. Just about everything from beyond the rifts is mildly radioactive; and by tracking the unique signature of the rifts we can track monsters rather easily. Unfortunately the detection software isn't as specific as we'd like; a strong signal far away seems the same as a weak signal up close and the strength varies on a half dozen factors, how long the monster has been in our world, the size of the creature, and so on.
These two officers were prime examples of how different the armor could be. The first is big, built like a linebacker; the plating of his armor is easily over an inch thick, but cut to allow him a full range of movement. He's carrying a M249 machine gun and an axe; and when I say axe, I don't mean for chopping wood, I mean axe the size of a car tire with a four foot handle. The second soldier has a slighter build, and with a half dozen small hilts sticking out from between the plates on his armor speed and precision over raw power. I can also spot the familiar silhouette of a M40 sniper rifle strapped to his back and a pair of pistols holstered at his waist.
After the rifts had opened soldiers were trained with melee weapons. Most monsters like to get in close, after numerous friendly fire incidents a sword or axe became standard issue to all military personnel.
Reaching the front of the line a pair of soldiers approach Uncle John's window, one carrying a small mirror in hand. The soldier gives Uncle John a once over with the mirror, paying particular attention to his eyes and teeth. As one scans and verifies Uncle John's ID the other starts asking questions.
As I watch and I'm startled by a sharp tap on my window. When I turn I'm surprised to see the larger of the two armored soldiers.
When I roll down the window, the officer begins speaking, "I thought I recognized you, you're that boy we found in the mall."
"You found me? I was told an officer brought me out but I didn't expect a member of S.W.O.R.D."
"Carried you out myself, you were covered in blood head to foot, glad to see you made it," he says.
"Thank you," I can't think of something else to say and sit staring at him. He looks giant in all the armor but up close, seeing his face, he couldn't be much older than me.
"Anytime, I never thought I'd see the day someone would take down a werewolf with only his fists," he chuckles a bit, "you ever think about signing up with us, we could use a guy like you?"
"I have, but I was planning on working at the research station with my Uncle."
He looks over at Uncle John who is still talking with one of the soldiers, "Well I guess that's almost as good, you find more ways to kill em and my brother and I will try them out. If your ever on the base drop by, just ask around for the Balewood brothers."
"Sure," I doubt I'll ever be on the base, they stopped letting nonmilitary personnel onto the base when S.W.O.R.D. moved in.
"Ok, boys let these two through, we've taken up enough of their time." He waves us through the checkpoint and moves off the road.
_ _ _ _ _
When we get back home Uncle John helps me to my room, I could tell already that the stairs were going to get annoying. Every other step a sharp pain goes through my leg. My room looks the same as the morning I left, even though Uncle John must have cleaned recently, not a speck of dust anywhere.
I sat at my desk and turn on my computer, I was sick of lying in bed all day.
"You need anything?" Uncle John asks, still by the door.
"No, I'll be fine. Just let me know when dinner is ready," I say.
"Ok, try and get some rest, your still recovering."
I feel like resting is all I've done the past few weeks. But I nod to Uncle John and turn back to the computer. I had planned to distract myself, but after a few minutes of an old RTS game I got bored, or maybe I just realized it was futile. After almost three months in the hospital I was a bit starved for information. I wanted to know what happened; Uncle John had been pretty tight lipped about the mall. Kept saying he'd tell me more when I was better. I booted up a search engine and looked up the mall, rather than sort through all of the random links I refined my search adding news and werewolf to the search.
It wasn't hard to find information after that. Fifty-three werewolves were confirmed within the mall, the last of them were killed shortly after the news teams arrived. There was no footage of the fighting, just reports and statistics; seventy-nine civilian casualties, 2 injured; and three soldiers killed, five injured.
That's it, Uncle John was right, two survivors; Chloe and Me. My mind is flooded with images from that day, screaming shoppers, howling wolves, Kevin lying against the wall of the food court, and blood lots of blood. I switch off the computer, looking up the mall had been a bad idea. I switch on the T.V. and climb into bed to wait for dinner, but all I see on the screen is colored blobs.
_ _ _ _ _
The next couple days pass in a blur, I eat and sleep little. My leg itches; the cast is a never-ending annoyance. I've taken to reading as a distraction, once I'm absorbed in the story I don't think about much else, or at least that's how it normally works, every few hours I have to put whatever I'm reading down, I can't seem to escape seeing the mall washed in red. My dreams alternate between twisted nightmares of blood and walks through the woods that are becoming all too familiar, the wolf's woods.
_ _ _ _ _
Reading again, an old favorite, Artemis Fowl. Somehow I've managed to wander while reading again it's the first time since I got the cast; I'm lying on the living room couch. My crutches are most likely still in my room, where I had started reading an hour ago. I'm rather amazed, my cast encases most of my leg, I can't walk strait with it; less yet go down the stairs. Getting back up will be a chore, but if I could get down the stairs I should be able to at least walk right?
I slide off the couch, careful not to bump my leg. Standing isn't a problem, now for walking; I head towards the kitchen while I'm down here I might as well get something to eat. Each step hurts, not as much as a broken bone should, but the cast cuts into my leg as I bend it and my restrained knee aches from trying to move against the cast.
Ignoring the call of leftover chicken I turn towards the training room. I'm used to working out every morning; I needed to feel my blood pumping again. The room looks the same as ever, weighted blades set along he left wall; a treadmill, two barbells and free weights on the right. The center of the room was empty and the floor was lightly padded.
I moved to the free weights and tried to lift a pair of 40's, my arm flared painfully before I could get the weights off the rack. I grabbed the 20's instead, the weight still hurt my arm but it was bearable. I moved my arm through its full range of motion, as long as I didn't try to move too fast my arm kept steady. It wasn't long before I put the weights down, my arm burned and stung but not in a bad way. I tried the treadmill next, but after the first few steps I knew it wouldn't work. The cast was too restricting I had to lift and move my foot awkwardly to keep my foot on the machine.
It was going to be a while before I could train like I used to. Still I think I'll come back to the training room tomorrow, it felt good to be moving around again.
_ _ _ _ _
When Uncle John got home he found me in the living room eating leftovers and watching some sort of old sitcom about a hospital. "How do you feel Zame, I see your apatite has finally returned," he says.
"I'm always hungry after I workout."
His eyes widened a bit at that, "Workout? You're supposed to be resting."
"Been resting for months I'm sick of resting. Do you think we can get this cast off sooner?" I ask, gesturing towards my encased leg.
"The doctor said he would check on it next month, it shouldn't be off before then… where are your crutches?"
"Upstairs I suppose, I guess I forgot about them," I shrug.
"Forgot," he pauses, and looks around. "How did you get downstairs without them, you shouldn't be walking with that cast. You won't be able to heal if you keep stressing it."
"I think that it's kind of healed already, I've been on and off it all day. Barely noticed the crutches were gone."
After a few more questions Uncle John calls the doctor and makes an appointment for the weekend. I start to head up the stairs while he's on the phone but he hangs up and insists on helping me. "Now don't get your hopes up the doctor says they'll take some x-rays but you should expect to be in that cast for at least another two weeks."
"Sure, sure, I'll try not to think about it."
_ _ _ _ _
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Chapter 3 - Morphine
10 min read
Chapter 3
I'm following the wolf again, we're moving quickly between the trees, and the sun is low in the sky. He stays close, allowing me to keep up with him this time. Before long we have reached the stream, the wolf lowers its head and drinks. After a moment I join him, drinking my fill then leaning against a tree to rest. The wolf lies down beside me and the two of us watch the small fish swimming in the stream.
It grows dark as the sun falls behind the trees; we begin to run again, picking a path between the trees. As the moon rises we emerge from the forest and into a clearing, another stream passes through one side. I'm surprised when the wolf walks to the stream without stopping; instead he steps into and through it. The water swirls around the wolf's body, only about as deep as he is tall.
He shakes himself off and turns to look at me before following the stream towards the far end of the clearing. Not wanting to lose him I follow, getting soaked in the process.
We move slowly, taking our time, the further into the clearing we go the wider the stream becomes. Soon I can see a small cliff face, the stream disappears into the mouth of a low cave. No sooner than I realize this is where we have been heading all along the wolf steps into the cave mouth.
I try to follow but the opening is so low I have to crawl on hands and knees, and just inches to my left the stream is moving quickly by. The cave grows darker, narrower, and the ledge thinner. Just when I don't think I'll be able to crawl any further the ledge widens and the ceiling becomes higher. The cave is pitch black, and now that I'm no longer feeling along the edge I can't tell how close to the stream I am.
I begin walking, one hand grazing the wall, trying to hear the wolf over the sound of the stream. The ground becomes slick, it's hard to find good footing. The wall disappears, my balance falters for an instant and I slip. I land hard on my right side and my arm goes numb. Rolling onto my stomach my left leg splashes into the water, the current is surprisingly strong, and as I try to stand my right leg gives way and I slip into the water.
The water moves fast around me, pushing me back and down. I slam into a rock beneath the water and the air is knocked out of me, as water floods my lungs my chest begins to ache. I feel as if I'm slipping away, my body becoming heavy.
_ _ _ _ _
As the dream fades I pick out the steady beep of a heart monitor. The feeling of heaviness from the dream seems to be even stronger now, I feel as if my body has been filled with lead. A tube of some sort is coming out of my mouth; it tastes of plastic and blood.
I hear a door open and footsteps coming towards me. After a moment the footsteps recede and I fall back into unconsciousness.
_ _ _ _ _
The second time I awake I no longer feel heavy, what I do feel is pain. My chest seems as if someone had lit a fire inside it, with the tube from my mouth gone every breath I take fans the flames. My right arm and left leg are restrained, as my eyes open I see thick white casts encase them. My chest is wrapped tightly in bandages and an IV is in my left arm. Even the dim lights hurt my eyes so I close them and try to bury the pain.
The door opens and I open my eyes as the footsteps stop to my left. A tall woman in scrubs is changing the bags for my IV. I try to speak but all that comes from my mouth is a scratchy moan.
The nurse turns quickly, nearly dropping the bags, and says, "Oh dear, you shouldn't be awake. One moment I'll be right back with the doctor."
What seems like an hour passes before the nurse returns with the doctor; he quickly moves a machine closer to the bed and places a mask over my nose and mouth. "Sir, your injuries are extensive. You shouldn't be awake for a few more days, I'm going to give you a new dose of morphine and put you back to sleep. Try to relax, it won't take long," he speaks hurriedly, sticking me with the needle before he is finished speaking.
I try to do as he says and close my eyes, but the pain hasn't receded yet. He speaks to the nurse, asking if she was sure I was given the correct dosage before. I hear papers being shuffled and her respond in the affirmative.
They both leave as the drugs start to take effect. My body grows heavy again as I return to sleep.
_ _ _ _ _
The room is brighter as I wake. The pain is back, it seems even worse than before. I barely manage to turn my head to the right before I open my eyes. Uncle John is half sitting in a chair looking out the window.
I try to speak again, but just as last time all that comes out is an ineffectual moan.
Uncle John turns quickly, "Zame, Zame, are you awake?" he asks.
I answer with a slight nod which causes a dull pain in the back of my head.
"The doctors say you shouldn't be awake yet," he touches a button attached to the side of my bed, "They've been giving you increasing amounts of pain killers but you keep waking up. Your lung was punctured by a splinter from your broken ribs and your arm is broken in three places. The leg is even worse, your kneecap cracked, and there are half a dozen fractures in your tibia. Combined with the amount of blood you've lost your lucky to be alive."
At least that explains the pain, I don't know why it makes me feel better to know what the injuries are. Somehow it makes the pain seem easier to deal with.
The doctor enters the room with a needle already in hand. "I don't know how you keep waking up, with the amount of drugs we've been giving you; you shouldn't be able to feel a thing." He pumps the morphine into the IV and starts writing on a chart.
"Can't you give him more, this is the fourth time he's been awake," Uncle John asks the doctor. I try to think of how many times I've been aware, and it doesn't add up.
The doctor seems frustrated as he answers, "We already have him on triple doses, if we give him anymore it could poison him. His body seems to be burning off the morphine rather than letting it dull the pain."
"Then try another drug, this doesn't seem to be working. He almost ripped the IV out last time." Did I? I don't remember that. "Isn't there something else you can do?"
The morphine takes effect and I begin to drift off, the doctor's answer is lost for now.
_ _ _ _ _
I'm aware of waking to the pain again and again. After a while I regain the ability to speak and ask what is going on.
Uncle John informs me that the morphine isn't working like it should. I wake several times a day, incoherent and crazed. My body is resisting every drug they think to give me.
When I ask about the mall Uncle John changes the subject before I can find out anything. After a couple days I finally convince him to tell me what happened.
"You and Chloe were found in the food court, both of you covered in blood and barely alive. There were almost fifty werewolves in the mall, and many of the shoppers escaped. Of the fifty found sixteen were already dead when S.W.O.R.D. arrived, six on the lower level, and nine in the food court. Or at least nine that weren't killed by soldiers SCAR2s. We still aren't sure how the werewolves got in." Uncle John pauses, collecting himself before continuing, "Zame, the werewolves in the food court; you fought them didn't you?"
"One had Chloe," I say simply. As I try to comprehend that I might have actually killed nine werewolves by myself. Well ten if you count the one in the bathroom.
"I know, her injuries weren't as bad as yours, flesh wounds mostly and a lot of blood loss. She was discharged earlier this week. Her family is taking her to stay with her aunt in Colorado."
Chloe, had always liked her aunts place. As the good news sinks in I realize Uncle John hasn't mentioned someone, "What about Kevin? He was lying against a wall in the food court but he …"
"I'm sorry Zame. You and Chloe were the only two alive in the court. All the other survivors made it outside."
The news hits me hard. I should have known, but I couldn't help but hope he was alive. It feels like a new injury has opened in my chest. I lie in the bed and stare at the ceiling, Kevin and I had been inseparable for years. I try to keep tears from coming, Kevin wouldn't have liked that. He would have made a joke about me being gay for him.
The doctor arrives with another shot of morphine before I break down. As the drug takes effect my last thought is that Kevin will never be able to get me back for the last prank, after all these years I won.
_ _ _ _ _
The next time I wake I'm unable to bring myself to speak. The morphine is no longer working, and the pain seems to be getting worse rather than better. My bones ache beneath the casts, and I can't think around the pain. On the upside my lung seems to have healed as I can finally breathe properly.
After a few hours even though the pain hasn't lessened I become aware of my surroundings. It seems I've been moved to a different room. Not as plain as the old one; this room seems to be made for patients who will be here for a while.
Over the next month I eat and sleep in a constant state of agony. The pain lessens but is by no means gone. After a while I'm allowed to get out of bed, walking with the help of a nurse or Uncle John.
The doctors find that I'm healing faster than they thought. Within two more weeks my arm is useable again. The bones still weak but no longer needing the cast. After an additional week I can walk using crutches without aid and am cleared to return home with Uncle John the following week. My leg unfortunately, is still encased in a thick cast.
_ _ _ _ _
I'm following the wolf again, we're moving quickly between the trees, and the sun is low in the sky. He stays close, allowing me to keep up with him this time. Before long we have reached the stream, the wolf lowers its head and drinks. After a moment I join him, drinking my fill then leaning against a tree to rest. The wolf lies down beside me and the two of us watch the small fish swimming in the stream.
It grows dark as the sun falls behind the trees; we begin to run again, picking a path between the trees. As the moon rises we emerge from the forest and into a clearing, another stream passes through one side. I'm surprised when the wolf walks to the stream without stopping; instead he steps into and through it. The water swirls around the wolf's body, only about as deep as he is tall.
He shakes himself off and turns to look at me before following the stream towards the far end of the clearing. Not wanting to lose him I follow, getting soaked in the process.
We move slowly, taking our time, the further into the clearing we go the wider the stream becomes. Soon I can see a small cliff face, the stream disappears into the mouth of a low cave. No sooner than I realize this is where we have been heading all along the wolf steps into the cave mouth.
I try to follow but the opening is so low I have to crawl on hands and knees, and just inches to my left the stream is moving quickly by. The cave grows darker, narrower, and the ledge thinner. Just when I don't think I'll be able to crawl any further the ledge widens and the ceiling becomes higher. The cave is pitch black, and now that I'm no longer feeling along the edge I can't tell how close to the stream I am.
I begin walking, one hand grazing the wall, trying to hear the wolf over the sound of the stream. The ground becomes slick, it's hard to find good footing. The wall disappears, my balance falters for an instant and I slip. I land hard on my right side and my arm goes numb. Rolling onto my stomach my left leg splashes into the water, the current is surprisingly strong, and as I try to stand my right leg gives way and I slip into the water.
The water moves fast around me, pushing me back and down. I slam into a rock beneath the water and the air is knocked out of me, as water floods my lungs my chest begins to ache. I feel as if I'm slipping away, my body becoming heavy.
_ _ _ _ _
As the dream fades I pick out the steady beep of a heart monitor. The feeling of heaviness from the dream seems to be even stronger now, I feel as if my body has been filled with lead. A tube of some sort is coming out of my mouth; it tastes of plastic and blood.
I hear a door open and footsteps coming towards me. After a moment the footsteps recede and I fall back into unconsciousness.
_ _ _ _ _
The second time I awake I no longer feel heavy, what I do feel is pain. My chest seems as if someone had lit a fire inside it, with the tube from my mouth gone every breath I take fans the flames. My right arm and left leg are restrained, as my eyes open I see thick white casts encase them. My chest is wrapped tightly in bandages and an IV is in my left arm. Even the dim lights hurt my eyes so I close them and try to bury the pain.
The door opens and I open my eyes as the footsteps stop to my left. A tall woman in scrubs is changing the bags for my IV. I try to speak but all that comes from my mouth is a scratchy moan.
The nurse turns quickly, nearly dropping the bags, and says, "Oh dear, you shouldn't be awake. One moment I'll be right back with the doctor."
What seems like an hour passes before the nurse returns with the doctor; he quickly moves a machine closer to the bed and places a mask over my nose and mouth. "Sir, your injuries are extensive. You shouldn't be awake for a few more days, I'm going to give you a new dose of morphine and put you back to sleep. Try to relax, it won't take long," he speaks hurriedly, sticking me with the needle before he is finished speaking.
I try to do as he says and close my eyes, but the pain hasn't receded yet. He speaks to the nurse, asking if she was sure I was given the correct dosage before. I hear papers being shuffled and her respond in the affirmative.
They both leave as the drugs start to take effect. My body grows heavy again as I return to sleep.
_ _ _ _ _
The room is brighter as I wake. The pain is back, it seems even worse than before. I barely manage to turn my head to the right before I open my eyes. Uncle John is half sitting in a chair looking out the window.
I try to speak again, but just as last time all that comes out is an ineffectual moan.
Uncle John turns quickly, "Zame, Zame, are you awake?" he asks.
I answer with a slight nod which causes a dull pain in the back of my head.
"The doctors say you shouldn't be awake yet," he touches a button attached to the side of my bed, "They've been giving you increasing amounts of pain killers but you keep waking up. Your lung was punctured by a splinter from your broken ribs and your arm is broken in three places. The leg is even worse, your kneecap cracked, and there are half a dozen fractures in your tibia. Combined with the amount of blood you've lost your lucky to be alive."
At least that explains the pain, I don't know why it makes me feel better to know what the injuries are. Somehow it makes the pain seem easier to deal with.
The doctor enters the room with a needle already in hand. "I don't know how you keep waking up, with the amount of drugs we've been giving you; you shouldn't be able to feel a thing." He pumps the morphine into the IV and starts writing on a chart.
"Can't you give him more, this is the fourth time he's been awake," Uncle John asks the doctor. I try to think of how many times I've been aware, and it doesn't add up.
The doctor seems frustrated as he answers, "We already have him on triple doses, if we give him anymore it could poison him. His body seems to be burning off the morphine rather than letting it dull the pain."
"Then try another drug, this doesn't seem to be working. He almost ripped the IV out last time." Did I? I don't remember that. "Isn't there something else you can do?"
The morphine takes effect and I begin to drift off, the doctor's answer is lost for now.
_ _ _ _ _
I'm aware of waking to the pain again and again. After a while I regain the ability to speak and ask what is going on.
Uncle John informs me that the morphine isn't working like it should. I wake several times a day, incoherent and crazed. My body is resisting every drug they think to give me.
When I ask about the mall Uncle John changes the subject before I can find out anything. After a couple days I finally convince him to tell me what happened.
"You and Chloe were found in the food court, both of you covered in blood and barely alive. There were almost fifty werewolves in the mall, and many of the shoppers escaped. Of the fifty found sixteen were already dead when S.W.O.R.D. arrived, six on the lower level, and nine in the food court. Or at least nine that weren't killed by soldiers SCAR2s. We still aren't sure how the werewolves got in." Uncle John pauses, collecting himself before continuing, "Zame, the werewolves in the food court; you fought them didn't you?"
"One had Chloe," I say simply. As I try to comprehend that I might have actually killed nine werewolves by myself. Well ten if you count the one in the bathroom.
"I know, her injuries weren't as bad as yours, flesh wounds mostly and a lot of blood loss. She was discharged earlier this week. Her family is taking her to stay with her aunt in Colorado."
Chloe, had always liked her aunts place. As the good news sinks in I realize Uncle John hasn't mentioned someone, "What about Kevin? He was lying against a wall in the food court but he …"
"I'm sorry Zame. You and Chloe were the only two alive in the court. All the other survivors made it outside."
The news hits me hard. I should have known, but I couldn't help but hope he was alive. It feels like a new injury has opened in my chest. I lie in the bed and stare at the ceiling, Kevin and I had been inseparable for years. I try to keep tears from coming, Kevin wouldn't have liked that. He would have made a joke about me being gay for him.
The doctor arrives with another shot of morphine before I break down. As the drug takes effect my last thought is that Kevin will never be able to get me back for the last prank, after all these years I won.
_ _ _ _ _
The next time I wake I'm unable to bring myself to speak. The morphine is no longer working, and the pain seems to be getting worse rather than better. My bones ache beneath the casts, and I can't think around the pain. On the upside my lung seems to have healed as I can finally breathe properly.
After a few hours even though the pain hasn't lessened I become aware of my surroundings. It seems I've been moved to a different room. Not as plain as the old one; this room seems to be made for patients who will be here for a while.
Over the next month I eat and sleep in a constant state of agony. The pain lessens but is by no means gone. After a while I'm allowed to get out of bed, walking with the help of a nurse or Uncle John.
The doctors find that I'm healing faster than they thought. Within two more weeks my arm is useable again. The bones still weak but no longer needing the cast. After an additional week I can walk using crutches without aid and am cleared to return home with Uncle John the following week. My leg unfortunately, is still encased in a thick cast.
_ _ _ _ _
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Chapter 2 - First Fight
18 min read
Chapter 2
Beyond the branches it was cloudy; the overcast sky combined with the dense foliage surrounding me turns the day into twilight. The path I walk winds deep into the trees, only half visible and faded to nothing at points where the forest has reclaimed the ground. Something was following me, or was I following it? A dark shape, large but low to the ground, was moving between the trees; it was to my right for a time and then crossed my path just ahead. When it began moving faster, it seems to be flying between the trees. I start running, not knowing what it is or why I'm chasing it, only knowing that I want to catch up.
It doesn't take long for the creature to disappear in the shadows. I slow to a stop, disappointed, that I couldn't catch it, whatever it was. In my attempted pursuit I seem to have lost the path, turning a slow circle I realize that night is falling, even if I manage to find the path again it would be near impossible to follow it.
Deciding that I might as well try, I begin heading back the way I came.
It doesn't' take me long for me to stumble upon a small stream, realizing I must have been going the wrong direction for some time I sit against a tree and watch the current, small fish are visible in the dim light. It's peaceful, even being lost at night; I feel that I can relax here. I lean my head back and catch a glimpse of the moon, bright and full amongst the clouds of the night sky. I gaze at the moon for a time, lost in thoughts of the creature I had been following.
A sudden noise, seemingly close by brings my attention back to the ground. A black wolf stands just across the stream, its eyes like liquid silver met my gaze. There was intelligence behind those eyes; they bore into me as if trying to tell me a secret that I couldn't possibly comprehend. After a moment longer the wolf faded, as if the shadows had embraced it and taken it into the night.
_ _ _ _ _
I wake feeling exhausted, as if I had really been running all night. I shake my head to clear the remnants of the dream from my mind. It's early, the backyard still in shadow, much too early. No wonder I was tired, must have only been asleep for a few hours.
I get out of the bed and head into the bathroom. Switching on the light I glance at my reflection, my short dark hair sticks up at odd angles from sleeping and dark circles are under my blue-grey eyes. I run some hot water in the sink and splash my face, waking up a bit I change into some old clothes and head downstairs to the training room. My morning calisthenics routine should help me wake up the rest of the way. Fifty of each push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and lunges; followed by a hundred jumping jacks and a half mile run on the treadmill. I was so used to the movements that my body performed them without a thought.
Uncle John had been doing the same routine for many years; and while training with him, I had gotten into the habit as well. It helped me wake up, got the blood flowing and kept us both in shape. Even if Uncle John wasn't on active duty anymore, he thought it was a good idea to stay combat ready.
I really did wake up too early; Uncle John usually beat me to the training room. I pick up one of the practice blades and step into the center of the room. The wooden sword is almost a perfect replica of the real blade I have in Uncle John's private armory, the main difference being the weight. The practice blade, while made of wood, is weighted with lead to just over twice the weight of the real blade. Bringing the blade into a wide arc and then moving into a forward thrust, I begin to practice.
A half-hour later Uncle John stepped into the training room, "Good morning," I say without stopping my swing.
"Morning," he replies. "looks like you beat me this time."
"Well I woke up earlier than usual."
"Trouble sleeping?" he asks moving into the same calisthenics routine I had finished earlier.
"Not really, bit of an odd dream but I'm fine," I respond.
"That's good, any plans today?"
"I'm supposed to pick up Chloe around eight; we're going to meet Kevin at the mall."
"I'll be at the lab till late, may not be home until tomorrow afternoon. Do you mind fending for yourself for dinner?" It's not an unusual thing for Uncle John to sleep at the lab; sometimes projects run late or he becomes consumed with his research. There are times when he doesn't make it home for a week or more.
"I think I'll be fine, I'll order a pizza or something."
"Ah, that's a good idea."
I finish practicing and return the practice blade to the rack, "I need to clean up before I pick up Chloe, I'll see you when you get home."
"Of course, and Zame, how does the ring fit?" Uncle John asks.
I hadn't noticed I was wearing it, I hardly remember putting it on. "It fits great, like it was made for me," I say, trying to remember if it was there when I got up.
"I'm glad; well have fun at the mall."
"I will, as long as Chloe doesn't make us wait while she looks at shoes again," I say, leaving the room.
_ _ _ _ _
After a hot shower and a change of clothes I head down to the garage. Uncle John owns two cars; the first is a Mercedes Vanquish, the same driven by James Bond in those old 007 movies. The second is a military humvee, complete with rotating gunner's platform and machine gun mount. Uncle John added a few after market upgrades to it; solid two inch thick metal plating, a rebuilt engine, and a satcom system.
My ride isn't as spacious as Uncle John's Vanquish but it definitely gets the job done. Almost fifty years old, my Cannibal is nothing to laugh at. When we found the old charger, the only thing that was really intact was the frame and some of the wiring, but with Uncle John's help we managed to breathe some life back into her. She's got the engine from a busted 2008 Dodge Charger, digital gauges, run-flat tires, and anti-lock brakes. Admittedly I wasn't able to fully restore her. High quality parts became harder to come by after the rifts started opening. Factory lines got shut down and transporting unnecessary materials for survival was no longer important. Most industries not related to the military were set back by about twenty years, some businesses have recovered for the most part, and others will never be the same.
Getting into the driver's seat I pull out of the drive. Once on the main road I let the engine roar for a moment as I quickly increase my speed to just a bit over the limit. Chloe's place isn't too far, so after only a couple minutes I'm pulling up to her house.
After a quick knock on the door Chloe's mom answers, "Well good morning Zame, it's been a while."
"I guess, it's good to see you," I say. It couldn't have been too long since I'd seen her last, "Is Chloe about ready we're supposed to meet Kevin at the mall in a little while."
"I haven't seen her this morning but I heard the water running a few minutes ago, she's probably still getting ready."
"You mind if I go check, Kevin gets annoyed if we make him wait too long."
"Go ahead. She might be changing though."
"Don't worry, I'll knock first," I reply.
Chloe's room is in the back of the house, I have to pass through the living room to reach the short hall that leads to her door.
After knocking I hear Chloe's voice from inside, "Who is it?"
"It's Zame who else would it be?"
"Oh, come in, I didn't think you'd be over this early."
Opening the door I find Chloe's room in its usual state of disarray, books and cloths scattered about, only part of her computer visible under a pile of papers. "Tornado come through here recently?" I say brining up an old joke. Chloe always has too much energy and can never stay put for more than a few minutes: put her in a perfectly clean room and it doesn't take more than twenty minutes for it to look like a natural disaster had taken place.
"Ha-ha, very funny. Now if you want to be helpful you can try and find my other shoe, I thought I left it next to the closet door but it's not here," she says this without removing her head from the closet in question, still searching for her shoe I'd guess. She's already dressed in a dark green blouse and jeans.
"Can't you just wear a different pair of shoes; you only have what? Thirty pairs?" I joke while looking around the room for the shoe that would match the dark brown one she is already wearing.
"I could, but I wanted to wear these shoes," she says emerging from the closet for the first time. Her hair is dyed in three colors today, black with deep purple highlights and electric blue tips, "and I do not have thirty pairs of shoes, maybe half that." I couldn't tell you what her original hair color used to be; since Kevin and I met her our sophomore year, she has dyed it every color you could think of, changing it at least twice a month.
"Chloe if we find that shoe in here it would be a miracle, we shouldn't make Kevin wait too long. Not after we borrowed his cap and gown. He's already annoyed about waiting in line for nothing yesterday."
"Hey don't go blaming me for that, it was your idea. Oh, and that reminds me, you still owe me twenty bucks if you want your things." She says the last bit as her mouth twists into a little smirk.
"Sure, sure," I say taking out the money and hand it to her.
"Why thank you, your things are hanging in the front closet with Kevin's." As she looks around the room again she lets out an exasperated sigh and starts putting on a different pair of shoes, "guess I'll have to find the other one later."
_ _ _ _ _
It's a bit of a drive to the mall so I open up the Cannibal, not bothering to watch my speed, the cops have more important things to worry about than a couple teenagers. I tell Chloe about the phone call I got from Kevin last night, she doesn't seem surprised. Kevin has never been a patient person; making him wait in line was one of the most annoying things we could have done to him.
When we make it to the mall the lot is pretty packed, but we still manage find Kevin half asleep sprawled out in the bed of his Dodge Ram. He's parked in our usual meeting spot, across the lot from the food court.
Hopping into the back Chloe announces in a singsong voice, "We're here and I brought your cap and gown. Twenty bucks or I keeping it."
Lifting his head Kevin says, "I'll believe that when I see it, and you aren't getting a dime from me. Z can pay you since it was his idea to begin with."
"Nope, Zame paid for his already, you've got to pay for your own. It wouldn't be fair to make him pay twice," she replies.
I let out a little chuckle and take Kevin's things out of the trunk and put them on the passenger seat of his truck. "Come on Kev, pay the girl or you'll never hear the end of it."
With a groan Kevin climbs out of the bed of the truck and takes out his wallet, passes Chloe her money and starts heading towards the food court without another word.
Once we've caught up to him Chloe passes me a five making sure Kevin can see.
"What the hell you giving him money for?" he asks.
"Finder's fee," I answer.
"Yep," Chloe chimes in.
Kevin mutters to himself for a second before saying, "Z you know I'm going to get you back for this one."
"I know. Looking forward to it actually, I have a few more ideas lined up." I respond.
Entering the mall we split up for a minute to pick out breakfast. We all stop in different lines and meet up at a table. We eat without talking much; Kevin is still visibly annoyed with us; so Chloe and I are waiting for him to calm down.
Kevin can never stay mad over a prank for too long, after all he has pulled plenty of them in his time. By the time we finish eating, Kevin's usual grin has crept back onto his face and we know he isn't mad anymore.
"So how we going to start today, east or west?" Kevin asks, leaning his head back into his hands and looking at the reflective ceiling. Referring to the east and west wings of the mall that meet at the central food court. The food court was raised a few feet higher than the rest of the mall, a short flight of stairs leading down from it to the shopping area.
"East, I want to take a look at f.y.e. for a new CD," Chloe says.
"Ok, just don't expect us to stop at every shoe store in the mall today. I want to try and make it to the drive-in by two." I say. Reminding her that an old zombie movie from before the rifts opened was playing. We usually all went in Kevin's truck, so we could tailgate.
"Fine, I'll just stop at two shoe stores then," Chloe concedes.
We begin our circuit of the mall stopping in the usual stores to browse without really intending on buying anything. Chloe manages to find her CD and Kevin and I pick up some junk food to eat while watching the movie.
When we reach the far western side of the mall I tell Kevin and Chloe that I'll meet up with them in the food court in a half hour.
Heading back the way we came I go into one of Chloe's favorite stores, her birthday is just two weeks away and I hadn't gotten her anything yet. But when we were in the store earlier Chloe had stopped to look at a necklace with a copper pendant on it. Looking at it again, I see that the metal is fashioned into the form of a falcon with its wings raised, it wasn't too expensive and I was sure she would like it. I make the purchase then leave the store.
_ _ _ _ _
Before I meet up with the others I duck into a restroom; a couple minutes later I'm washing my hands, for obvious, reasons when I hear a scream seeming to come from just outside. The sound is met by howls and then even more screams. I stand stunned for a moment. The howling was like nothing I had ever heard before.
Coming out of my daze, I turn for the exit to see the source of the howling. A werewolf stood between me and the exit. A full eight feet of short coarse brown fur, a mouth spread into a sharp and toothy grin, long muscular arms ending in razor sharp claws, and eyes like staring into a pot of black ink.
My body grows cold, it's the first time I've seen a monster up close. I've only seen them on news reels or photographs. As it takes a step closer it lets out a low growl and I instinctually move into a defensive stance, left arm and foot forward.
The werewolf covers the short distance in an instant, raising its right arm to kill in a single swipe. Everything I've learned about monsters from Uncle John and my own research takes over. My left arm snaps forward connecting with the inside of the werewolf's arm pushing the clawed hand up. I lower myself further into a crouch, allowing the creatures arm to pass over my head. Then pushing off the ground with my all my strength I bring my right fist into the underside of the werewolf's jaw. With it stunned for an instant I bring my left hand to the side of its neck, using the wolf's own forward momentum I slam its snout into the sink I had just been using.
The porcelain bowl breaks under the impact, water spraying out from a cracked pipe. As the wolf goes down its right claw catches my calf ripping through my jeans and into my leg; blood, from both my wound and the werewolf's broken face, mixes with the water on the floor. Using the heel of my shoe, I finish the monster off, breaking its neck.
The leg hurts but still moves easily enough, letting me know the wound mustn't be too deep. I can hear more howling from the mall. The dwindling number of human voices begins to worry me. I have to get outside; I have to find Chloe and Kevin.
Leaving the bathroom, I find myself cut off from the food court by a pack of werewolves. They're chasing after some shoppers who are making a break for the stairs, a pair of cops stand halfway up firing at the pack trying to give the people more time.
I begin running after the wolves, as more howls come from behind me I realize that if I slow my pace for an instant I won't have a chance. One on one I might have a chance, but a pack of werewolves is dangerous to even armed soldiers.
The pack overtakes the shoppers and reaches the stairs before I do. Both policemen go down firing and cursing, blood begins to flow down the stairs.
Some of the pack stops at the stairs to finish off surviving shoppers while the rest continue up the stairs. I'll have to go straight through half a dozen of them to reach the food court with no indication if I can get out. I glance behind me and see that another pack of wolves is in pursuit. With no better option I rush the stairs; dodging a swipe from one wolf and stiff-arming another I manage to pass the bloodshed without much trouble. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the top to see an even more gruesome scene. Tables are upturned and broken; bodies broken and ripped litter the ground. Blood is everywhere, wolves scattered around, feasting on the dead and injured.
Across the field of death I can see Kevin, his body covered with blood, lying against a wall.
That's when I hear her voice, "Zame!" Chloe's pained voice draws my attention. She is still alive, but a werewolf's mouth is tight around her left shoulder and breast, barely missing her throat.
My vision narrows, focusing on Chloe's blood smeared face, and the beast holding her by its teeth. I can't hold myself back and begin to charge the beast. An inhuman sound rips through my chest and the werewolf releases Chloe to turn to and meet me, along with a dozen or so other werewolves in the room.
As rage takes over my vision burns red, my body feels as if it has been filled with liquid fire. I meet the first werewolf slamming my shoulder into its chest, hearing its bones break beneath the skin. Both sets of its claws manage to rake my back as the beast falls away. Then a vice-like jaw closes over my right arm and the full weight of a second wolf knocks me off my feet. As I hit the ground my vision blurs and begins to fade.
I can feel my body continue to move, continue to fight, but my vision doesn't return. I can no longer focus on anything, can no longer see anything; but I can feel, feel my fists, my knees, my feet connect with lupine flesh and breaking bones. I can feel my body break and tear as I fail to block tooth and claw. Eventually after what feels like hours my head, or at least I think it's my head, explodes with pain; one of them finally got in a good hit.
As my sense of feeling fades I begin to slip into darkness. The last thing I hear is the rat-tat-tat of rifle fire, the howls of dying wolves, and then nothing.
_ _ _ _ _
Beyond the branches it was cloudy; the overcast sky combined with the dense foliage surrounding me turns the day into twilight. The path I walk winds deep into the trees, only half visible and faded to nothing at points where the forest has reclaimed the ground. Something was following me, or was I following it? A dark shape, large but low to the ground, was moving between the trees; it was to my right for a time and then crossed my path just ahead. When it began moving faster, it seems to be flying between the trees. I start running, not knowing what it is or why I'm chasing it, only knowing that I want to catch up.
It doesn't take long for the creature to disappear in the shadows. I slow to a stop, disappointed, that I couldn't catch it, whatever it was. In my attempted pursuit I seem to have lost the path, turning a slow circle I realize that night is falling, even if I manage to find the path again it would be near impossible to follow it.
Deciding that I might as well try, I begin heading back the way I came.
It doesn't' take me long for me to stumble upon a small stream, realizing I must have been going the wrong direction for some time I sit against a tree and watch the current, small fish are visible in the dim light. It's peaceful, even being lost at night; I feel that I can relax here. I lean my head back and catch a glimpse of the moon, bright and full amongst the clouds of the night sky. I gaze at the moon for a time, lost in thoughts of the creature I had been following.
A sudden noise, seemingly close by brings my attention back to the ground. A black wolf stands just across the stream, its eyes like liquid silver met my gaze. There was intelligence behind those eyes; they bore into me as if trying to tell me a secret that I couldn't possibly comprehend. After a moment longer the wolf faded, as if the shadows had embraced it and taken it into the night.
_ _ _ _ _
I wake feeling exhausted, as if I had really been running all night. I shake my head to clear the remnants of the dream from my mind. It's early, the backyard still in shadow, much too early. No wonder I was tired, must have only been asleep for a few hours.
I get out of the bed and head into the bathroom. Switching on the light I glance at my reflection, my short dark hair sticks up at odd angles from sleeping and dark circles are under my blue-grey eyes. I run some hot water in the sink and splash my face, waking up a bit I change into some old clothes and head downstairs to the training room. My morning calisthenics routine should help me wake up the rest of the way. Fifty of each push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and lunges; followed by a hundred jumping jacks and a half mile run on the treadmill. I was so used to the movements that my body performed them without a thought.
Uncle John had been doing the same routine for many years; and while training with him, I had gotten into the habit as well. It helped me wake up, got the blood flowing and kept us both in shape. Even if Uncle John wasn't on active duty anymore, he thought it was a good idea to stay combat ready.
I really did wake up too early; Uncle John usually beat me to the training room. I pick up one of the practice blades and step into the center of the room. The wooden sword is almost a perfect replica of the real blade I have in Uncle John's private armory, the main difference being the weight. The practice blade, while made of wood, is weighted with lead to just over twice the weight of the real blade. Bringing the blade into a wide arc and then moving into a forward thrust, I begin to practice.
A half-hour later Uncle John stepped into the training room, "Good morning," I say without stopping my swing.
"Morning," he replies. "looks like you beat me this time."
"Well I woke up earlier than usual."
"Trouble sleeping?" he asks moving into the same calisthenics routine I had finished earlier.
"Not really, bit of an odd dream but I'm fine," I respond.
"That's good, any plans today?"
"I'm supposed to pick up Chloe around eight; we're going to meet Kevin at the mall."
"I'll be at the lab till late, may not be home until tomorrow afternoon. Do you mind fending for yourself for dinner?" It's not an unusual thing for Uncle John to sleep at the lab; sometimes projects run late or he becomes consumed with his research. There are times when he doesn't make it home for a week or more.
"I think I'll be fine, I'll order a pizza or something."
"Ah, that's a good idea."
I finish practicing and return the practice blade to the rack, "I need to clean up before I pick up Chloe, I'll see you when you get home."
"Of course, and Zame, how does the ring fit?" Uncle John asks.
I hadn't noticed I was wearing it, I hardly remember putting it on. "It fits great, like it was made for me," I say, trying to remember if it was there when I got up.
"I'm glad; well have fun at the mall."
"I will, as long as Chloe doesn't make us wait while she looks at shoes again," I say, leaving the room.
_ _ _ _ _
After a hot shower and a change of clothes I head down to the garage. Uncle John owns two cars; the first is a Mercedes Vanquish, the same driven by James Bond in those old 007 movies. The second is a military humvee, complete with rotating gunner's platform and machine gun mount. Uncle John added a few after market upgrades to it; solid two inch thick metal plating, a rebuilt engine, and a satcom system.
My ride isn't as spacious as Uncle John's Vanquish but it definitely gets the job done. Almost fifty years old, my Cannibal is nothing to laugh at. When we found the old charger, the only thing that was really intact was the frame and some of the wiring, but with Uncle John's help we managed to breathe some life back into her. She's got the engine from a busted 2008 Dodge Charger, digital gauges, run-flat tires, and anti-lock brakes. Admittedly I wasn't able to fully restore her. High quality parts became harder to come by after the rifts started opening. Factory lines got shut down and transporting unnecessary materials for survival was no longer important. Most industries not related to the military were set back by about twenty years, some businesses have recovered for the most part, and others will never be the same.
Getting into the driver's seat I pull out of the drive. Once on the main road I let the engine roar for a moment as I quickly increase my speed to just a bit over the limit. Chloe's place isn't too far, so after only a couple minutes I'm pulling up to her house.
After a quick knock on the door Chloe's mom answers, "Well good morning Zame, it's been a while."
"I guess, it's good to see you," I say. It couldn't have been too long since I'd seen her last, "Is Chloe about ready we're supposed to meet Kevin at the mall in a little while."
"I haven't seen her this morning but I heard the water running a few minutes ago, she's probably still getting ready."
"You mind if I go check, Kevin gets annoyed if we make him wait too long."
"Go ahead. She might be changing though."
"Don't worry, I'll knock first," I reply.
Chloe's room is in the back of the house, I have to pass through the living room to reach the short hall that leads to her door.
After knocking I hear Chloe's voice from inside, "Who is it?"
"It's Zame who else would it be?"
"Oh, come in, I didn't think you'd be over this early."
Opening the door I find Chloe's room in its usual state of disarray, books and cloths scattered about, only part of her computer visible under a pile of papers. "Tornado come through here recently?" I say brining up an old joke. Chloe always has too much energy and can never stay put for more than a few minutes: put her in a perfectly clean room and it doesn't take more than twenty minutes for it to look like a natural disaster had taken place.
"Ha-ha, very funny. Now if you want to be helpful you can try and find my other shoe, I thought I left it next to the closet door but it's not here," she says this without removing her head from the closet in question, still searching for her shoe I'd guess. She's already dressed in a dark green blouse and jeans.
"Can't you just wear a different pair of shoes; you only have what? Thirty pairs?" I joke while looking around the room for the shoe that would match the dark brown one she is already wearing.
"I could, but I wanted to wear these shoes," she says emerging from the closet for the first time. Her hair is dyed in three colors today, black with deep purple highlights and electric blue tips, "and I do not have thirty pairs of shoes, maybe half that." I couldn't tell you what her original hair color used to be; since Kevin and I met her our sophomore year, she has dyed it every color you could think of, changing it at least twice a month.
"Chloe if we find that shoe in here it would be a miracle, we shouldn't make Kevin wait too long. Not after we borrowed his cap and gown. He's already annoyed about waiting in line for nothing yesterday."
"Hey don't go blaming me for that, it was your idea. Oh, and that reminds me, you still owe me twenty bucks if you want your things." She says the last bit as her mouth twists into a little smirk.
"Sure, sure," I say taking out the money and hand it to her.
"Why thank you, your things are hanging in the front closet with Kevin's." As she looks around the room again she lets out an exasperated sigh and starts putting on a different pair of shoes, "guess I'll have to find the other one later."
_ _ _ _ _
It's a bit of a drive to the mall so I open up the Cannibal, not bothering to watch my speed, the cops have more important things to worry about than a couple teenagers. I tell Chloe about the phone call I got from Kevin last night, she doesn't seem surprised. Kevin has never been a patient person; making him wait in line was one of the most annoying things we could have done to him.
When we make it to the mall the lot is pretty packed, but we still manage find Kevin half asleep sprawled out in the bed of his Dodge Ram. He's parked in our usual meeting spot, across the lot from the food court.
Hopping into the back Chloe announces in a singsong voice, "We're here and I brought your cap and gown. Twenty bucks or I keeping it."
Lifting his head Kevin says, "I'll believe that when I see it, and you aren't getting a dime from me. Z can pay you since it was his idea to begin with."
"Nope, Zame paid for his already, you've got to pay for your own. It wouldn't be fair to make him pay twice," she replies.
I let out a little chuckle and take Kevin's things out of the trunk and put them on the passenger seat of his truck. "Come on Kev, pay the girl or you'll never hear the end of it."
With a groan Kevin climbs out of the bed of the truck and takes out his wallet, passes Chloe her money and starts heading towards the food court without another word.
Once we've caught up to him Chloe passes me a five making sure Kevin can see.
"What the hell you giving him money for?" he asks.
"Finder's fee," I answer.
"Yep," Chloe chimes in.
Kevin mutters to himself for a second before saying, "Z you know I'm going to get you back for this one."
"I know. Looking forward to it actually, I have a few more ideas lined up." I respond.
Entering the mall we split up for a minute to pick out breakfast. We all stop in different lines and meet up at a table. We eat without talking much; Kevin is still visibly annoyed with us; so Chloe and I are waiting for him to calm down.
Kevin can never stay mad over a prank for too long, after all he has pulled plenty of them in his time. By the time we finish eating, Kevin's usual grin has crept back onto his face and we know he isn't mad anymore.
"So how we going to start today, east or west?" Kevin asks, leaning his head back into his hands and looking at the reflective ceiling. Referring to the east and west wings of the mall that meet at the central food court. The food court was raised a few feet higher than the rest of the mall, a short flight of stairs leading down from it to the shopping area.
"East, I want to take a look at f.y.e. for a new CD," Chloe says.
"Ok, just don't expect us to stop at every shoe store in the mall today. I want to try and make it to the drive-in by two." I say. Reminding her that an old zombie movie from before the rifts opened was playing. We usually all went in Kevin's truck, so we could tailgate.
"Fine, I'll just stop at two shoe stores then," Chloe concedes.
We begin our circuit of the mall stopping in the usual stores to browse without really intending on buying anything. Chloe manages to find her CD and Kevin and I pick up some junk food to eat while watching the movie.
When we reach the far western side of the mall I tell Kevin and Chloe that I'll meet up with them in the food court in a half hour.
Heading back the way we came I go into one of Chloe's favorite stores, her birthday is just two weeks away and I hadn't gotten her anything yet. But when we were in the store earlier Chloe had stopped to look at a necklace with a copper pendant on it. Looking at it again, I see that the metal is fashioned into the form of a falcon with its wings raised, it wasn't too expensive and I was sure she would like it. I make the purchase then leave the store.
_ _ _ _ _
Before I meet up with the others I duck into a restroom; a couple minutes later I'm washing my hands, for obvious, reasons when I hear a scream seeming to come from just outside. The sound is met by howls and then even more screams. I stand stunned for a moment. The howling was like nothing I had ever heard before.
Coming out of my daze, I turn for the exit to see the source of the howling. A werewolf stood between me and the exit. A full eight feet of short coarse brown fur, a mouth spread into a sharp and toothy grin, long muscular arms ending in razor sharp claws, and eyes like staring into a pot of black ink.
My body grows cold, it's the first time I've seen a monster up close. I've only seen them on news reels or photographs. As it takes a step closer it lets out a low growl and I instinctually move into a defensive stance, left arm and foot forward.
The werewolf covers the short distance in an instant, raising its right arm to kill in a single swipe. Everything I've learned about monsters from Uncle John and my own research takes over. My left arm snaps forward connecting with the inside of the werewolf's arm pushing the clawed hand up. I lower myself further into a crouch, allowing the creatures arm to pass over my head. Then pushing off the ground with my all my strength I bring my right fist into the underside of the werewolf's jaw. With it stunned for an instant I bring my left hand to the side of its neck, using the wolf's own forward momentum I slam its snout into the sink I had just been using.
The porcelain bowl breaks under the impact, water spraying out from a cracked pipe. As the wolf goes down its right claw catches my calf ripping through my jeans and into my leg; blood, from both my wound and the werewolf's broken face, mixes with the water on the floor. Using the heel of my shoe, I finish the monster off, breaking its neck.
The leg hurts but still moves easily enough, letting me know the wound mustn't be too deep. I can hear more howling from the mall. The dwindling number of human voices begins to worry me. I have to get outside; I have to find Chloe and Kevin.
Leaving the bathroom, I find myself cut off from the food court by a pack of werewolves. They're chasing after some shoppers who are making a break for the stairs, a pair of cops stand halfway up firing at the pack trying to give the people more time.
I begin running after the wolves, as more howls come from behind me I realize that if I slow my pace for an instant I won't have a chance. One on one I might have a chance, but a pack of werewolves is dangerous to even armed soldiers.
The pack overtakes the shoppers and reaches the stairs before I do. Both policemen go down firing and cursing, blood begins to flow down the stairs.
Some of the pack stops at the stairs to finish off surviving shoppers while the rest continue up the stairs. I'll have to go straight through half a dozen of them to reach the food court with no indication if I can get out. I glance behind me and see that another pack of wolves is in pursuit. With no better option I rush the stairs; dodging a swipe from one wolf and stiff-arming another I manage to pass the bloodshed without much trouble. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the top to see an even more gruesome scene. Tables are upturned and broken; bodies broken and ripped litter the ground. Blood is everywhere, wolves scattered around, feasting on the dead and injured.
Across the field of death I can see Kevin, his body covered with blood, lying against a wall.
That's when I hear her voice, "Zame!" Chloe's pained voice draws my attention. She is still alive, but a werewolf's mouth is tight around her left shoulder and breast, barely missing her throat.
My vision narrows, focusing on Chloe's blood smeared face, and the beast holding her by its teeth. I can't hold myself back and begin to charge the beast. An inhuman sound rips through my chest and the werewolf releases Chloe to turn to and meet me, along with a dozen or so other werewolves in the room.
As rage takes over my vision burns red, my body feels as if it has been filled with liquid fire. I meet the first werewolf slamming my shoulder into its chest, hearing its bones break beneath the skin. Both sets of its claws manage to rake my back as the beast falls away. Then a vice-like jaw closes over my right arm and the full weight of a second wolf knocks me off my feet. As I hit the ground my vision blurs and begins to fade.
I can feel my body continue to move, continue to fight, but my vision doesn't return. I can no longer focus on anything, can no longer see anything; but I can feel, feel my fists, my knees, my feet connect with lupine flesh and breaking bones. I can feel my body break and tear as I fail to block tooth and claw. Eventually after what feels like hours my head, or at least I think it's my head, explodes with pain; one of them finally got in a good hit.
As my sense of feeling fades I begin to slip into darkness. The last thing I hear is the rat-tat-tat of rifle fire, the howls of dying wolves, and then nothing.
_ _ _ _ _
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Chapter 1 - Inheritance
19 min read
Chapter 1
The lights come on as the documentary ends and the final bell rings. Finally, I'm so sick of history class. The last Archfiends disappeared fifteen years ago and there haven't been any local creature sightings since last winter. Ever since the war ended people have talking about how bad it was, I mean I know it was bad and all but S.W.O.R.D. has everything under control now.
I pack up and head out into the sea of students in the hallway, posters announcing the end of the school year are everywhere, along with reminders for seniors to pick up their caps and gowns in the auditorium and to drop books off with Mrs. Ericson. Only further reminding everyone that finals are next week, it's not like every teacher hasn't been reminding us during class. When I make it to my locker I spin the dial and grab the last of my books.
There's a small bang as Kevin's back hits the lockers to the right. Kevin's got sandy blond hair, dark eyes, and this crooked smile that always makes you think he has just done something he shouldn't have. "Should we head to the auditorium or the Bookroom first?" he asks.
"Bookroom, I got Chloe to pick up my things from the auditorium when she got hers this morning," I answer.
"Damn it Z, why didn't you ask her to get mine too?"
"You didn't ask," I say as I close the locker and start off towards the bookroom. "Plus, now I have to lend her twenty bucks at the mall tomorrow as part of the deal."
"You'd have given her the twenty anyways."
"True. But this way at least I don't have to wait in two lines today."
We manage to get to the bookroom early, only a couple dozen others ahead of us. After a short wait Kevin and I slide our books across and get our return slips, "Now don't lose those now, you need to turn them into your homeroom teacher on Monday or else you won't be able to graduate," Mrs. Ericson says as we start heading back towards the door.
"No worries Mrs. E we won't lose em," Kevin replies, flashing that crooked smile of his.
"I told you not to call me that," she says back. Mrs. Ericson never liked that, told us the first day of our sophomore year; she said it reminds her of when her grandfather would call her Missy when she got in trouble as a child.
"You need a ride to the mall tomorrow?" Kevin asks while we walk to the auditorium.
"Neh, I've got to pick up Chloe and get my stuff from her on the way, we'll meet you there around nine."
"Sure thing …Damn it, you've got to be shittin me." Kevin, spits out the last few words.
I look up and let out a little chuckle, there's a line of students ahead of us leading into the auditorium. "I guess we found out why the line at the bookroom was so short, it seems everyone came to get their caps and gowns first. Well, good luck I'm going to head on home."
"This is going to take forever, it'll be dark before I make it home," Kevin says.
"Tough luck man. Later," I say as I head off towards my car wondering how pissed he will be when he finds out that I did have Chloe pick up his cap and gown too.
Now let me explain something about Kevin and I, we've been friends since before we could walk, and while we get on each other's nerves sometimes we're like family. The two of us have been through a lot together, getting into trouble, summers at the lake, and when Kevin lost his dad we both hurt. We've been pulling pranks on each other for years now, just last week he filled the air vents in my car with confetti, so leaving him to stand in line for an hour or two is just a little payback.
_ _ _ _ _
The call came about an hour after I got home, "Z you're not going to believe this shit," Kevin is practically yelling into the phone, "the dumbasses working in the auditorium couldn't find my cap and gown, they say it was either picked up already or not ordered. It's complete bullshit, I placed that order myself."
"Well that really sucks man, but don't worry. You see I happened to think something like this might happen so I ordered two caps and two gowns. Now I can't just give them to you but if you wanted to buy them off me, I'll give you a deal." It was hard not to laugh, but somehow I managed.
It took Kevin all of five seconds to respond, "You stole my cap and gown didn't you, Zame?"
"I don't really think you can call it stealing, I just had Chloe grab your stuff when she got mine and hers this morning."
"That's low even for you, I was in line for an hour and then spent half an hour arguing with some volunteer in the auditorium."
"New low? I still haven't gotten all the damn confetti out of my car from the prank you pulled last week." I replied.
Kevin lets out an exasperated sigh and then says, "Fine, fine. Just bring the stuff with you tomorrow and we'll call it even."
"Sure thing, just bring an extra twenty to pay Chloe's delivery fee."
"Wait? What? You don't expect me to pay her," Kevin's voice had taken on that tone commonly heard after you get punched in the stomach, sort of like he couldn't get enough breath through his lungs to say the words properly. "I mean the whole point of you paying her is so you wouldn't have to wait in line!"
"I suppose your right; then again, it's entirely up to Chloe." At this point I just can't stop from laughing.
Chloe somehow always manages to get what she wants out of the two of us. It's not that she doesn't deserve it though. She's found that by helping both of us with our pranks, usually on each other, she can call in favors pretty much whenever she wants.
"Fine, I'll bring her money. But I'm going to get you back sooner or later, and you know it."
As the line goes dead I flip my phone closed and speak to the empty room, "Looking forward to it."
That's when I realize that in the course of the conversation I've somehow moved from sitting at my desk to laying on the bed.
It's not the first time I've moved from one place to another without being able to recall how or when I moved. It tends to happen when I'm focusing on something, a good book or phone call usually. Sometimes I'll start reading a book on the couch down in the living room and when I reach over to pick up the drink I had or place the book on the end table, I find myself somewhere else entirely; the bench on the back porch, the sofa in the office, my desk, or my bed. I suppose it's just one of those things people do subconsciously. It does bother me sometimes though, especially when I end up leaving a drink or whatever in the other room.
At least I hadn't wandered too far this time, I think to myself, as I slide off the bed and cross the room to continue the game I was playing.
I like my room, it's more spacious than the average teenagers I suppose, but I've got more stuff and spend more time in it than most as well. The west wall has the only window, facing out over the backyard and the small strand of trees that separate my neighborhood from the next one over, it offers a pretty good view of the sunset. My desk sits directly to the left of the window, on it sits my laptop and a small lamp that I use for homework and reading. On the south wall, hanging next to the desk is a corkboard covered with pictures and mementos. Centered along the same wall is a dart board; along with several small holes, reminiscent of bad throws. Up in the corner, between south and east walls, hangs my T.V. with a small shelf of DVDs below it. The East wall is almost entirely comprised of shelves; I keep a growing and expanding library of books. Fantasy and Sci-Fi novels mostly, a couple classics and romances, and then a section of reference books; most relating to monsters and the rifts. The door to the bathroom separates the bookshelves from the DVD rack and T.V.. There are only three things on the North wall, the door into the upstairs hallway, my king size bed, and a mirror that hangs over the bed. The mirror is the one thing in my room I didn't have a hand in picking out; it was a gift from Uncle John several years back.
Uncle John works for a Research Lab a few miles out of town, studying the Rifts, monsters, and trying to unlock the secrets to magic. The mirror was something he bought after an incident happened in the lab. An imp got out of containment and tried to escape by creating an illusion around itself making it look like one of the lab techs. Thirteen people were killed before anyone found out the creature had access to such powers. Eventually the imp wandered into a bathroom where a mirror hanging over the sink cut through the illusion, and the assistant that was inside glimpsed its reflection. Long story short the assistant managed to get away without being injured too badly and reported what he had seen in the mirror.
The theory that arose from this situation was simple; a mirror can only show the truth. What is actually there, how things really are and that a magical illusion cannot change a reflection. Mirrors have been placed in every hall in the lab now, along with every room in Uncle John's house.
Sometimes I think Uncle John is a bit over cautious when it comes to things from about the rifts. I mean this is Chicago, the closest rift opening was in D.C. we're just lucky the radiation wasn't blown this far west, although I suppose if it had Uncle John would have moved before it hit. Of course he always says it's better to err on the side of caution. This meaning he makes sure we stay in shape, that we understand the weak points of as many known monsters as possible, and can fire and hit a target with dozens of firearms.
_ _ _ _ _ _
A few hours after I had talked to Kevin I could smell dinner cooking downstairs; as I focus I can distinctly pick out the scent of chicken and potatoes. I swear the ventilation in this house is set up so that the air from the kitchen is sent directly into my room, I can always smell dinner being made. After a few more minutes I began to head down to eat.
Leaving my room causes me to walk through most of the house; I pass by the doors leading to the spare room, that Kevin usually uses when he stays over, then the door leading to what can only be described as a game room, there's a large T.V. a couple comfy chairs and a regulation size pool table within. At the end of the upstairs hall is a rather wide staircase that leads down to another hallway by the garage. After passing the training room and washroom I walk into the living room. The living room has a very large comfortable couch, glass toped coffee table, a 58 inch T.V., and an old fashioned grandfather clock. From the living room I can see the entrance to the hall with Uncle John's room and study, the front door, and the dining room. As I pass through the dining room on my way to the kitchen I notice the table is already set for two, considering that we haven't used the table in almost six months I find this strange.
I can almost taste the food as I walk into the kitchen, and Uncle John is just taking the chicken out of the oven, "Need any help with that?" I ask.
"Sure, take the potatoes out and put them onto a plate, then move the corn from the pot into that bowl," he says as he makes sure the chicken has cooked all the way through.
"Why are we eating at the table tonight, something going on?"
"No, no nothing like that. It's just been a while since we've eaten at a proper table," I sense a lie before he's even finished speaking, Uncle John only repeats, no, when he's trying to lie. Definitely no poker face, I can read Uncle John like a book. When he's annoyed he squints or taps his foot, when angry his lips flatten out in a thin line and his bright blue eyes turn grey as steel just like mine, if he becomes bored he checks his silver Rolex repeatedly, and when he's worried or thinking too hard he runs his fingers through his black and silver hair.
Uncle John was my mother's older brother, and 18 years ago my mom showed up on Uncle John's doorstep 7 months pregnant. Then she died giving birth to me, so Uncle John raised me; trading in his gun for a desk job at the research lab. Uncle John was a member of the United States Spectral Task Force, one of the many armed forces that eventually became a part of S.W.O.R.D.. Luckily Uncle John had gotten degrees in astrophysics and mechanical engineering before the war, which allowed him to transfer to a research division away from the frontlines.
Uncle John has never been very strict with me, even when Kevin and I managed to set the living room couch on fire trying to roast marshmallows, he just had us replace the couch and promise to be more careful. I've never even had a curfew; as long as I was up in time for school and kept my grades up we never had any problems. We haven't had many serious talks, the few that we have had usually involved weapons, fighting techniques, or the rifts.
So, I believed that a breakthrough or problem at the research lab would explain the sit down dinner and Uncle John's odd demeanor.
"Zame, there's something I need to talk to you about," Uncle John speaks in a solemn tone, one usually reserved for bad news.
As my mind starts working, thinking of what he could possibly be wrong, I say, "Ok."
Uncle John pauses, as if he doesn't know where to start. At this point I know what he must want to talk about, he's been called back to active duty again, something big must have happened and they need him. I'll be fine, of course, I planned on joining S.W.O.R.D. myself, and after graduation I would apply at the lab and assist for a few years while getting a degree. But if Uncle John is returning to active duty, maybe I should sign up and fight as well. I've been trained, I can shoot, I could fly through the training camp without trouble.
"It's about your mother," Uncle John kills my train of thought, "and your father."
"Huh? ...I thought no one knew who he was. You said mom never talked about him."
"She didn't like to talk about him, she would just say he was gone when I asked about him. I don't know who he was or what happened to him, but I suspect he was a soldier. I believe he fought close to one of the rifts, no he must have there's no other way he could have found it." He seems to say the last few words to himself, as if I wasn't meant to hear them.
"Found what?" How could Uncle John know about my father if my mother never talked about him, what could he have possibly found.
"When you were born, your mother was losing her strength; the doctors told me she didn't have much time. In her last moments she told me two things. The first was your name, Zame, the second was that your father gave her something, something I was to give to you when you were ready." Uncle John reaches into his pocket and draws out a ring, made out of a dark metal. A single ruby was set in the ring; the strange metal crossing over it on two sides, seeming to restrain the gem.
As Uncle John hands the ring to me it catches the light, and appears gold. The ring feels warm as I take it and turn it in my hand, I see that the metal has a pattern lightly etched into it, covering most of the ring the looping intricate design seems to be some kind of writing. The metal is not gold, but it's also not really as dark as I believed, the etchings made it look darker from a distance, up close it has an almost bronze look to it.
"The writing and metal is similar to weapons and tomes from beyond the rifts, unfortunately I was unable to decipher it. But it is possible that your father took that from a demon."
I can't help but stare at my Uncle. Demons don't die easily; a single demon could wipe out a S.W.O.R.D. assault team without trouble. They possess magic and strength beyond that of men, when demons appear its common practice to fall back, and call for an airstrike or tanks. If a demon once wore this ring then it would have been given to one of the research teams, a soldier wouldn't take it.
I shake my head, "Even if your right and my dad was a soldier, he wouldn't have been able to just walk away with something that belonged to a demon."
"Normally I would agree with you, but in the last few years of the war many breakthroughs led us to believe that demons could be killed without the use of explosives, possibly even an archfiend. After examining the remains from a demon found near D.C. it was found that their skeletal structure was like nothing we've ever seen before. It's not public knowledge yet, but the bones of a demon are as strong as steal, overly thick, and most importantly hollow. Blood vessels and some tendons are almost entirely encased in some species, flesh wounds; even gunshots never had much of an effect because we couldn't crack the bones. On some even the chest is a nearly a solid slab of bone. Small pores near the joints bring blood and nutrients to the muscles. With a coordinated precise attack, it should be possible to bring a demon down."
I wasn't sure how to react, if it weren't for the demons and archfiends leading monsters against S.W.O.R.D. then the war wouldn't have lasted so long. A quarter of the earth's land wouldn't be covered in craters and radiation. The U.S. government would still be intact, as it is now the state governments are still working, at least the states that are still habitable, and what little is left of the national government does nothing more than manage taxes and transport. What military strength is left is focused on hunting monsters on the outskirts of rift sites, or has been merged with S.W.O.R.D..
"So you really believe that my dad killed a demon?" It's just too much to take, the thought that my dad not only fought in the war but killed one of the greatest threats to mankind is just insane, in that case my dad most likely returned to the frontlines, he could have been fighting for another three years before the war ended, he could be fighting still, if he lived.
"I can't be sure, in any case that ring is priceless. I'm probably breaking a dozen laws by not turning it over to the research facility, but it was the only thing your mother left for you. I wouldn't feel right denying you this."
"Thanks Uncle John, do you mind if I just go think for a while, I…" I can't finish so I just stop, Uncle John nods and lets me go upstairs to be alone with my thoughts.
_ _ _ _ _
As I lay on my bed I roll the ring between my fingers, letting it catch the light and change colors again and again. After thinking about it, I realized it doesn't matter. No matter where it came from, the ring belonged to my father, my mother, and now me. I take the ring in my left hand and slide it onto the ring finger of my right. It slides on easily but feels secure, almost like it was made for my hand. As I stare at the ruby I could swear that somewhere within the stone it's glowing, my finger grows warm. The stone flares a bright red, proving my uncle's suspicions correct, the ring must be magic.
I know I should tell Uncle John right away but I feel heavy and I can't see strait, the flash of light from the ring seems to have nearly blinded me. Before I can stop myself I slip into unconsciousness.
_ _ _ _ _
The lights come on as the documentary ends and the final bell rings. Finally, I'm so sick of history class. The last Archfiends disappeared fifteen years ago and there haven't been any local creature sightings since last winter. Ever since the war ended people have talking about how bad it was, I mean I know it was bad and all but S.W.O.R.D. has everything under control now.
I pack up and head out into the sea of students in the hallway, posters announcing the end of the school year are everywhere, along with reminders for seniors to pick up their caps and gowns in the auditorium and to drop books off with Mrs. Ericson. Only further reminding everyone that finals are next week, it's not like every teacher hasn't been reminding us during class. When I make it to my locker I spin the dial and grab the last of my books.
There's a small bang as Kevin's back hits the lockers to the right. Kevin's got sandy blond hair, dark eyes, and this crooked smile that always makes you think he has just done something he shouldn't have. "Should we head to the auditorium or the Bookroom first?" he asks.
"Bookroom, I got Chloe to pick up my things from the auditorium when she got hers this morning," I answer.
"Damn it Z, why didn't you ask her to get mine too?"
"You didn't ask," I say as I close the locker and start off towards the bookroom. "Plus, now I have to lend her twenty bucks at the mall tomorrow as part of the deal."
"You'd have given her the twenty anyways."
"True. But this way at least I don't have to wait in two lines today."
We manage to get to the bookroom early, only a couple dozen others ahead of us. After a short wait Kevin and I slide our books across and get our return slips, "Now don't lose those now, you need to turn them into your homeroom teacher on Monday or else you won't be able to graduate," Mrs. Ericson says as we start heading back towards the door.
"No worries Mrs. E we won't lose em," Kevin replies, flashing that crooked smile of his.
"I told you not to call me that," she says back. Mrs. Ericson never liked that, told us the first day of our sophomore year; she said it reminds her of when her grandfather would call her Missy when she got in trouble as a child.
"You need a ride to the mall tomorrow?" Kevin asks while we walk to the auditorium.
"Neh, I've got to pick up Chloe and get my stuff from her on the way, we'll meet you there around nine."
"Sure thing …Damn it, you've got to be shittin me." Kevin, spits out the last few words.
I look up and let out a little chuckle, there's a line of students ahead of us leading into the auditorium. "I guess we found out why the line at the bookroom was so short, it seems everyone came to get their caps and gowns first. Well, good luck I'm going to head on home."
"This is going to take forever, it'll be dark before I make it home," Kevin says.
"Tough luck man. Later," I say as I head off towards my car wondering how pissed he will be when he finds out that I did have Chloe pick up his cap and gown too.
Now let me explain something about Kevin and I, we've been friends since before we could walk, and while we get on each other's nerves sometimes we're like family. The two of us have been through a lot together, getting into trouble, summers at the lake, and when Kevin lost his dad we both hurt. We've been pulling pranks on each other for years now, just last week he filled the air vents in my car with confetti, so leaving him to stand in line for an hour or two is just a little payback.
_ _ _ _ _
The call came about an hour after I got home, "Z you're not going to believe this shit," Kevin is practically yelling into the phone, "the dumbasses working in the auditorium couldn't find my cap and gown, they say it was either picked up already or not ordered. It's complete bullshit, I placed that order myself."
"Well that really sucks man, but don't worry. You see I happened to think something like this might happen so I ordered two caps and two gowns. Now I can't just give them to you but if you wanted to buy them off me, I'll give you a deal." It was hard not to laugh, but somehow I managed.
It took Kevin all of five seconds to respond, "You stole my cap and gown didn't you, Zame?"
"I don't really think you can call it stealing, I just had Chloe grab your stuff when she got mine and hers this morning."
"That's low even for you, I was in line for an hour and then spent half an hour arguing with some volunteer in the auditorium."
"New low? I still haven't gotten all the damn confetti out of my car from the prank you pulled last week." I replied.
Kevin lets out an exasperated sigh and then says, "Fine, fine. Just bring the stuff with you tomorrow and we'll call it even."
"Sure thing, just bring an extra twenty to pay Chloe's delivery fee."
"Wait? What? You don't expect me to pay her," Kevin's voice had taken on that tone commonly heard after you get punched in the stomach, sort of like he couldn't get enough breath through his lungs to say the words properly. "I mean the whole point of you paying her is so you wouldn't have to wait in line!"
"I suppose your right; then again, it's entirely up to Chloe." At this point I just can't stop from laughing.
Chloe somehow always manages to get what she wants out of the two of us. It's not that she doesn't deserve it though. She's found that by helping both of us with our pranks, usually on each other, she can call in favors pretty much whenever she wants.
"Fine, I'll bring her money. But I'm going to get you back sooner or later, and you know it."
As the line goes dead I flip my phone closed and speak to the empty room, "Looking forward to it."
That's when I realize that in the course of the conversation I've somehow moved from sitting at my desk to laying on the bed.
It's not the first time I've moved from one place to another without being able to recall how or when I moved. It tends to happen when I'm focusing on something, a good book or phone call usually. Sometimes I'll start reading a book on the couch down in the living room and when I reach over to pick up the drink I had or place the book on the end table, I find myself somewhere else entirely; the bench on the back porch, the sofa in the office, my desk, or my bed. I suppose it's just one of those things people do subconsciously. It does bother me sometimes though, especially when I end up leaving a drink or whatever in the other room.
At least I hadn't wandered too far this time, I think to myself, as I slide off the bed and cross the room to continue the game I was playing.
I like my room, it's more spacious than the average teenagers I suppose, but I've got more stuff and spend more time in it than most as well. The west wall has the only window, facing out over the backyard and the small strand of trees that separate my neighborhood from the next one over, it offers a pretty good view of the sunset. My desk sits directly to the left of the window, on it sits my laptop and a small lamp that I use for homework and reading. On the south wall, hanging next to the desk is a corkboard covered with pictures and mementos. Centered along the same wall is a dart board; along with several small holes, reminiscent of bad throws. Up in the corner, between south and east walls, hangs my T.V. with a small shelf of DVDs below it. The East wall is almost entirely comprised of shelves; I keep a growing and expanding library of books. Fantasy and Sci-Fi novels mostly, a couple classics and romances, and then a section of reference books; most relating to monsters and the rifts. The door to the bathroom separates the bookshelves from the DVD rack and T.V.. There are only three things on the North wall, the door into the upstairs hallway, my king size bed, and a mirror that hangs over the bed. The mirror is the one thing in my room I didn't have a hand in picking out; it was a gift from Uncle John several years back.
Uncle John works for a Research Lab a few miles out of town, studying the Rifts, monsters, and trying to unlock the secrets to magic. The mirror was something he bought after an incident happened in the lab. An imp got out of containment and tried to escape by creating an illusion around itself making it look like one of the lab techs. Thirteen people were killed before anyone found out the creature had access to such powers. Eventually the imp wandered into a bathroom where a mirror hanging over the sink cut through the illusion, and the assistant that was inside glimpsed its reflection. Long story short the assistant managed to get away without being injured too badly and reported what he had seen in the mirror.
The theory that arose from this situation was simple; a mirror can only show the truth. What is actually there, how things really are and that a magical illusion cannot change a reflection. Mirrors have been placed in every hall in the lab now, along with every room in Uncle John's house.
Sometimes I think Uncle John is a bit over cautious when it comes to things from about the rifts. I mean this is Chicago, the closest rift opening was in D.C. we're just lucky the radiation wasn't blown this far west, although I suppose if it had Uncle John would have moved before it hit. Of course he always says it's better to err on the side of caution. This meaning he makes sure we stay in shape, that we understand the weak points of as many known monsters as possible, and can fire and hit a target with dozens of firearms.
_ _ _ _ _ _
A few hours after I had talked to Kevin I could smell dinner cooking downstairs; as I focus I can distinctly pick out the scent of chicken and potatoes. I swear the ventilation in this house is set up so that the air from the kitchen is sent directly into my room, I can always smell dinner being made. After a few more minutes I began to head down to eat.
Leaving my room causes me to walk through most of the house; I pass by the doors leading to the spare room, that Kevin usually uses when he stays over, then the door leading to what can only be described as a game room, there's a large T.V. a couple comfy chairs and a regulation size pool table within. At the end of the upstairs hall is a rather wide staircase that leads down to another hallway by the garage. After passing the training room and washroom I walk into the living room. The living room has a very large comfortable couch, glass toped coffee table, a 58 inch T.V., and an old fashioned grandfather clock. From the living room I can see the entrance to the hall with Uncle John's room and study, the front door, and the dining room. As I pass through the dining room on my way to the kitchen I notice the table is already set for two, considering that we haven't used the table in almost six months I find this strange.
I can almost taste the food as I walk into the kitchen, and Uncle John is just taking the chicken out of the oven, "Need any help with that?" I ask.
"Sure, take the potatoes out and put them onto a plate, then move the corn from the pot into that bowl," he says as he makes sure the chicken has cooked all the way through.
"Why are we eating at the table tonight, something going on?"
"No, no nothing like that. It's just been a while since we've eaten at a proper table," I sense a lie before he's even finished speaking, Uncle John only repeats, no, when he's trying to lie. Definitely no poker face, I can read Uncle John like a book. When he's annoyed he squints or taps his foot, when angry his lips flatten out in a thin line and his bright blue eyes turn grey as steel just like mine, if he becomes bored he checks his silver Rolex repeatedly, and when he's worried or thinking too hard he runs his fingers through his black and silver hair.
Uncle John was my mother's older brother, and 18 years ago my mom showed up on Uncle John's doorstep 7 months pregnant. Then she died giving birth to me, so Uncle John raised me; trading in his gun for a desk job at the research lab. Uncle John was a member of the United States Spectral Task Force, one of the many armed forces that eventually became a part of S.W.O.R.D.. Luckily Uncle John had gotten degrees in astrophysics and mechanical engineering before the war, which allowed him to transfer to a research division away from the frontlines.
Uncle John has never been very strict with me, even when Kevin and I managed to set the living room couch on fire trying to roast marshmallows, he just had us replace the couch and promise to be more careful. I've never even had a curfew; as long as I was up in time for school and kept my grades up we never had any problems. We haven't had many serious talks, the few that we have had usually involved weapons, fighting techniques, or the rifts.
So, I believed that a breakthrough or problem at the research lab would explain the sit down dinner and Uncle John's odd demeanor.
"Zame, there's something I need to talk to you about," Uncle John speaks in a solemn tone, one usually reserved for bad news.
As my mind starts working, thinking of what he could possibly be wrong, I say, "Ok."
Uncle John pauses, as if he doesn't know where to start. At this point I know what he must want to talk about, he's been called back to active duty again, something big must have happened and they need him. I'll be fine, of course, I planned on joining S.W.O.R.D. myself, and after graduation I would apply at the lab and assist for a few years while getting a degree. But if Uncle John is returning to active duty, maybe I should sign up and fight as well. I've been trained, I can shoot, I could fly through the training camp without trouble.
"It's about your mother," Uncle John kills my train of thought, "and your father."
"Huh? ...I thought no one knew who he was. You said mom never talked about him."
"She didn't like to talk about him, she would just say he was gone when I asked about him. I don't know who he was or what happened to him, but I suspect he was a soldier. I believe he fought close to one of the rifts, no he must have there's no other way he could have found it." He seems to say the last few words to himself, as if I wasn't meant to hear them.
"Found what?" How could Uncle John know about my father if my mother never talked about him, what could he have possibly found.
"When you were born, your mother was losing her strength; the doctors told me she didn't have much time. In her last moments she told me two things. The first was your name, Zame, the second was that your father gave her something, something I was to give to you when you were ready." Uncle John reaches into his pocket and draws out a ring, made out of a dark metal. A single ruby was set in the ring; the strange metal crossing over it on two sides, seeming to restrain the gem.
As Uncle John hands the ring to me it catches the light, and appears gold. The ring feels warm as I take it and turn it in my hand, I see that the metal has a pattern lightly etched into it, covering most of the ring the looping intricate design seems to be some kind of writing. The metal is not gold, but it's also not really as dark as I believed, the etchings made it look darker from a distance, up close it has an almost bronze look to it.
"The writing and metal is similar to weapons and tomes from beyond the rifts, unfortunately I was unable to decipher it. But it is possible that your father took that from a demon."
I can't help but stare at my Uncle. Demons don't die easily; a single demon could wipe out a S.W.O.R.D. assault team without trouble. They possess magic and strength beyond that of men, when demons appear its common practice to fall back, and call for an airstrike or tanks. If a demon once wore this ring then it would have been given to one of the research teams, a soldier wouldn't take it.
I shake my head, "Even if your right and my dad was a soldier, he wouldn't have been able to just walk away with something that belonged to a demon."
"Normally I would agree with you, but in the last few years of the war many breakthroughs led us to believe that demons could be killed without the use of explosives, possibly even an archfiend. After examining the remains from a demon found near D.C. it was found that their skeletal structure was like nothing we've ever seen before. It's not public knowledge yet, but the bones of a demon are as strong as steal, overly thick, and most importantly hollow. Blood vessels and some tendons are almost entirely encased in some species, flesh wounds; even gunshots never had much of an effect because we couldn't crack the bones. On some even the chest is a nearly a solid slab of bone. Small pores near the joints bring blood and nutrients to the muscles. With a coordinated precise attack, it should be possible to bring a demon down."
I wasn't sure how to react, if it weren't for the demons and archfiends leading monsters against S.W.O.R.D. then the war wouldn't have lasted so long. A quarter of the earth's land wouldn't be covered in craters and radiation. The U.S. government would still be intact, as it is now the state governments are still working, at least the states that are still habitable, and what little is left of the national government does nothing more than manage taxes and transport. What military strength is left is focused on hunting monsters on the outskirts of rift sites, or has been merged with S.W.O.R.D..
"So you really believe that my dad killed a demon?" It's just too much to take, the thought that my dad not only fought in the war but killed one of the greatest threats to mankind is just insane, in that case my dad most likely returned to the frontlines, he could have been fighting for another three years before the war ended, he could be fighting still, if he lived.
"I can't be sure, in any case that ring is priceless. I'm probably breaking a dozen laws by not turning it over to the research facility, but it was the only thing your mother left for you. I wouldn't feel right denying you this."
"Thanks Uncle John, do you mind if I just go think for a while, I…" I can't finish so I just stop, Uncle John nods and lets me go upstairs to be alone with my thoughts.
_ _ _ _ _
As I lay on my bed I roll the ring between my fingers, letting it catch the light and change colors again and again. After thinking about it, I realized it doesn't matter. No matter where it came from, the ring belonged to my father, my mother, and now me. I take the ring in my left hand and slide it onto the ring finger of my right. It slides on easily but feels secure, almost like it was made for my hand. As I stare at the ruby I could swear that somewhere within the stone it's glowing, my finger grows warm. The stone flares a bright red, proving my uncle's suspicions correct, the ring must be magic.
I know I should tell Uncle John right away but I feel heavy and I can't see strait, the flash of light from the ring seems to have nearly blinded me. Before I can stop myself I slip into unconsciousness.
_ _ _ _ _
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Preface
3 min read
Preface
They first appeared in South Africa, Tanzania to be specific. Nobody knew what they were or where they came from all we knew was that they ate everything, especially us. Twenty five years ago they started terrorizing villages and small towns. The first sightings were thought to be some new rebel group, but when footage of the attacks was released the rumors started. Some thought it was a joke; others thought it was the end of the world.
The first video released in the U.S. was by CNN, the room was dark and you could hardly see but when the reporter started speaking you knew she was scared, "This is Alice Walker with CNN, we don't know what's going on, we arrived just two hours ago and were forced into this room by military personnel, they said an attack was coming and they would let us out when it was over. The gunshots stopped a while ago but no one has let us out." There was scratching noise followed by a loud bang as the door behind the reporter cracked and then exploded inward. She let out a scream as the remnants of the door knocked her to the floor.
The creature in the doorway was ghastly; dark grey skin and eyes that glowed red like hot coals, yellow bruises surrounded a gash on its shoulder, black blood running down its arm. The creature looked around and then let out a howl as it charged the cameraman. The camera hit the floor with a crunch, the lens ending up facing the doorway, and an unconscious reporter. As the cameraman started screaming a second creature entered and began to tear into the stomach of the reporter. The video ends as the reporter woke up just in time to scream and watch as the creature begins to eat her intestines.
These creatures soon became known as ghouls, and not two weeks after the video feed several thousand Peacekeepers landed in Tanzania. With the help of Peacekeepers the ghouls were quickly put down but more appeared every night, there was no end to them. After four months of nonstop fighting the first Rift was found, and with it the first Archfiend. He called himself Grat'zak and wanted nothing more than to destroy the human race. Along with his ghouls Grat'zak decimated the Peacekeeper and Tanzanian military, in the end it took a 2000 pound bomb dropped by an F-15 to take him out. With the death of the Archfiend the rift closed and ghouls stopped coming through. The few ghouls left in Tanzania then went into hiding; one would appear from time to time but without their old numbers they became only a minor threat.
It was soon found that Tanzania was only the beginning, soon another Rift opened in Russia, then India, and yet another in Mexico. The next ten years were hell, literally. Rifts opened one after another. Demons and monsters, once thought to be only legends, began spilling out to wreak havoc on the world.
Soon rifts had opened in D.C. and Moscow, other capitols fell and the United Nations began taking emergency control of military divisions all around the world, combined with the Peacekeepers the Special World Organized Rift Defense Force, now known as S.W.O.R.D. was created.
They first appeared in South Africa, Tanzania to be specific. Nobody knew what they were or where they came from all we knew was that they ate everything, especially us. Twenty five years ago they started terrorizing villages and small towns. The first sightings were thought to be some new rebel group, but when footage of the attacks was released the rumors started. Some thought it was a joke; others thought it was the end of the world.
The first video released in the U.S. was by CNN, the room was dark and you could hardly see but when the reporter started speaking you knew she was scared, "This is Alice Walker with CNN, we don't know what's going on, we arrived just two hours ago and were forced into this room by military personnel, they said an attack was coming and they would let us out when it was over. The gunshots stopped a while ago but no one has let us out." There was scratching noise followed by a loud bang as the door behind the reporter cracked and then exploded inward. She let out a scream as the remnants of the door knocked her to the floor.
The creature in the doorway was ghastly; dark grey skin and eyes that glowed red like hot coals, yellow bruises surrounded a gash on its shoulder, black blood running down its arm. The creature looked around and then let out a howl as it charged the cameraman. The camera hit the floor with a crunch, the lens ending up facing the doorway, and an unconscious reporter. As the cameraman started screaming a second creature entered and began to tear into the stomach of the reporter. The video ends as the reporter woke up just in time to scream and watch as the creature begins to eat her intestines.
These creatures soon became known as ghouls, and not two weeks after the video feed several thousand Peacekeepers landed in Tanzania. With the help of Peacekeepers the ghouls were quickly put down but more appeared every night, there was no end to them. After four months of nonstop fighting the first Rift was found, and with it the first Archfiend. He called himself Grat'zak and wanted nothing more than to destroy the human race. Along with his ghouls Grat'zak decimated the Peacekeeper and Tanzanian military, in the end it took a 2000 pound bomb dropped by an F-15 to take him out. With the death of the Archfiend the rift closed and ghouls stopped coming through. The few ghouls left in Tanzania then went into hiding; one would appear from time to time but without their old numbers they became only a minor threat.
It was soon found that Tanzania was only the beginning, soon another Rift opened in Russia, then India, and yet another in Mexico. The next ten years were hell, literally. Rifts opened one after another. Demons and monsters, once thought to be only legends, began spilling out to wreak havoc on the world.
Soon rifts had opened in D.C. and Moscow, other capitols fell and the United Nations began taking emergency control of military divisions all around the world, combined with the Peacekeepers the Special World Organized Rift Defense Force, now known as S.W.O.R.D. was created.
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In