Lycan Fallout_Rise Of The Werewolf Page 13

“Another necessary evil,” she told me.

  “How many more of those are there?” I asked.

  “How do you think I got my name?”

  CHAPTER 7 – Xavier and the zombies - Winter 2010

  The Lycan had moved further south than any of them could remember to do their hunting. The herds of man had dwindled, and it was becoming increasingly difficult in the frozen, hostile tundra to eke out an existence. The lights of the Great Lycan shimmered in the sky as the trio of Lycan led by Xavier entered into the outskirts of Nome. There was a nervous excitement among them as they slunk into this stronghold of man.

  “Do you smell that?” Xavier asked the pair. Slate and Long-Tooth both nodded.

  “It is the stench of dead men,” Slate said excitedly, the gnawing pit of hunger in his stomach not allowing him to think properly.

  “We have not yet done anything to cause this smell,” Xavier said.

  “A rival clan perhaps?” Long-Tooth asked.

  Xavier grumbled. It had been his idea to raid the city, and if someone had beaten him to it, they would pay dearly.

  “There are so many of them.” Slate sniffed the air. “We could eat for the entire cycle. Surely, they will not miss them.”

  “We will take enough to eat and no more,” Xavier said. “These humans are weak and very attached to each other. It is said the women cannot even make waste alone without someone holding their hand.”

  “How are there so many of them if they are so weak?” Slate asked.

  “They breed like field mice is why,” Xavier replied. They all dashed into the shadows of a nearby alley as they heard the firing of the hated rifles.

  “It must be another clan,” Long-Tooth stated.

  “And they have been discovered apparently,” Xavier snorted. “Fools. We need to eat.”

  A dog barked off to their right, another joined in the chorus. More dogs barked as lights began to go on throughout the city. More rifle fire. The trio looked around wildly, shadows were rapidly retreating.

  “It is like an angry beehive,” Slate said, looking for an avenue of escape.

  “Humans come,” Long-Tooth said as he peered around a corner.

  “How many?” Xavier asked.

  “More than we can eat.”

  Xavier looked to the rear, as a column of humans approached. “We have been found.”

  Slate began to mutter words to the Moon Gods.

  “Fool, we are not dead yet. There is no need to ask for a spot just yet,” Xavier said.

  “Why do they not shoot at us?” Long-Tooth asked.

  “Might as well ask me why they rule the world, neither thing makes sense,” Xavier told him.

  “Dead,” Slate said.

  “We are not!” Xavier roared.

  “No…them,” Slate replied. “They are but shadows in this world.”

  “Impossible,” Long-Tooth said as they began to be pushed in from all sides.

  “Up,” Xavier ordered as they jumped and scrabbled onto a shingled rooftop. They sat and looked down at the throng, all of whose eyes looked up at them.

  “Dead,” Long-Tooth reiterated.

  Slate wanted nothing to do with them and traveled up and onto the peak of the small building. A lone shot rang out; it had caught Slate high in the shoulder and he had lost his footing, rolling down and past the wide-eyed stares of Xavier and Long-Tooth. His claw shot out just as he fell over the precipice. He landed on top of the humans that had converged in the alleyway.

  Xavier and Long-Tooth were leaning over watching, both looking for either the rifles or the sharpened steel the humans used as Slate stood. His left arm hung awkwardly from the wound, his right however functioned perfectly as he cut great swaths in the advancing horde. No matter how much damage he inflicted, they kept coming.

  “What madness is this?” Long-Tooth asked. “This is not how the hairless ones react.”

  “They are trying to bite him,” Xavier observed. Lycan do not possess empathy, they are not inclined to help one of their own in a time of need. If he survived they would celebrate his return; if he did not, there would be no mourning or remorse.

  “The smell is almost more than I can bear,” Long-Tooth said as buckets of black, brackish bile spilled on the ground. Slate was panting heavily from the pain and the exertion of keeping the crowd off of him. Cries would periodically ring out as one of the humans would sneak through his defenses and sample his taste.

  “This is madness,” Xavier said. “They are trying to eat him.” He had never been so distressed in his entire life. “The ram does not chase down and eat the lion, this is madness!” He repeated.

  Slate tore through midsections, disemboweling all that came within his span. Throats were sliced open. Faces were halved, and still they pressed. He was finally able to leap high enough to grab the lip of the roof. His claw dug grooves into the roof shingles in his attempt to pull himself free. Xavier and Long-Tooth watched with detached stares, neither moving to grab and help him up. Not that he’d ask for their aid anyway; it just wasn’t the Lycan way.

  Slate’s face peered over the lip of the building before he was dragged back into the fray. The sounds of multiple mouths tearing and rending his flesh domina muflesh dted, even above that of the firearms being used in different parts of the city. Xavier kept his belly low to the roof as he approached the peak, Long-Tooth following. They were both looking over onto the main thoroughfare, hordes much like the one behind them were approaching, although these men were armed with all sorts of weapons, some more effective than others.

  “The humans attack each other. It must be a war. This bodes well for our kind,” Long-Tooth said.

  The wars of man were well known to the Lycan; in fact, these were among the times that Lycan thrived. With the confusion of men rushing into battle in desperate attempts to kill each other, whole squads could be descended upon and removed without the humans becoming suspicious.

  “It is a war,” Xavier said, “but it is unlike any war we have ever seen before. Have you ever seen the hairless ones fight without weapons? They always pride themselves on their death dealing machines. Yet these ones fight with nothing more than their hands and mouths. It is more honorable…but certainly not their way.”

  “Does this not make it easier for us? Humans without weapons, they might as well just walk into our bellies. Our young…our clan…will never starve again,” Long-Tooth said happily.

  “Wait here,” Xavier said, going back towards the alley. The man-beasts had finished off Slate and were beginning to wander away. Xavier leaned down and wrapped his large paw around the head of one of the lingering people. He lifted it up and onto the roof as if it weighed no more than a cardboard cut-out of a human.

  Xavier dragged the thing up almost to the top. Long-Tooth was watching with curiosity.

  “Why does it not cry out?” Long-Tooth asked. “They are always crying out for one thing or another, like squeaky little rats.”

  The zombie’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to seek purchase on the meaty flesh of Xavier’s paw that was tantalizingly close. Its hands were trying to grip the ribbons of muscle in Xavier’s arm.

  “Hold its arms,” Xavier said.

  Long-Tooth moved from his perch and pinned the man’s arms down, sitting on his legs as he did so.

  With his free hand, Xavier dragged a claw across the throat of the zombie.

  “That smell!” Long-Tooth exclaimed, turning his head to the side. The wound went nearly to the spine and still the thing thrust about.

  “It is dead and yet it isn’t.” Xavier moved in closer to peer into the monster’s eyes, the zombie biting quicker as Xavier’s snout came close.

  “Let us just eat him and be done with this distasteful thing,” Long-Tooth said, his nose wrinkled up.

  “I think you are letting your hunger get the best of you. This one is diseased somehow.”

  “Human diseases are no concern of ours,” Long-Tooth said. And he was right, not that
he knew it, but the two animals were so different from each other as to not share enough similarities for any known sickness to cross from human to Lycan although the same could not be said for the werewolf virus that transferred entirely too easily.

  “Rip his groin off,”r aroin of

  “Gladly,” Long-Tooth replied, always loving the tender snippet of meat and the high keening cries that it produced from his victims.

  “With your paw,” Xavier clarified when Long-Tooth dipped his head down low.

  Long-Tooth dragged his claw down the side of the man’s leg, shredding his fake furs and digging deeply into his thigh. With one pull, he was able to rip the clothes free.

  “Would have been hardly more than a snack,” Long-Tooth said sadly as he grabbed the man’s reproductive organs and tore them free.

  “Nothing…” Xavier said, “like he doesn’t even care.”

  “Xavier, I just wish to eat this one and be done with it. Somehow, his stench is making me lose my appetite.”

  “I’ve watched you eat, that would be some feat,” Xavier said in a rare display of humor. Long-Tooth was salivating and looked like he was going to eat regardless of what Xavier said. “I do not think they are safe to eat.” Xavier looked down at the man who was still trying to bite at him. “They smell of the infected.”

  “I will gladly deal with an upset stomach over this cloying pain I am getting from starving,” Long-Tooth said.

  “I do not think it wise.”

  “I would listen to your judgment if I cared,” Long-Tooth said, dropping his maw into the man’s middle, ripping free his belly and its contents. Xavier noticed bits of human fingers spilling out from inside the burst sac.

  The smell was infinitely worse as blood poured down the roof, and yet the man still moved.

  “I am done with this. I am finding a way to leave this madness.” Xavier stood up. The man immediately bent at the waist and bit a piece of Long-Tooth’s ear off.

  Long-Tooth laughed. “Now I will have a story to tell on Moonday! How the human ate the Lycan!” And with that, he continued his foray into the man’s midsection this time keeping a paw on the man’s forehead to keep him pinned to the roof.

  “This isn’t right,” Xavier said. Long-Tooth had created a cavern in the man and still he tried to bite at the paw that held him in place. Xavier peeked back over the edge. The men with the rifles had pulled back and the biters were in pursuit. “Are you coming?” Xavier asked, looking back over his shoulder.

  Long-Tooth wasn’t moving; ribbons of spittle hung from his mouth. “This meat tastes bad,” he said breathlessly.

  Xavier crawled back down and ripped the human from Long-Tooth’s grasp. He had expected a protest, and was mildly surprised when he received none. He stood and tossed the thing from the roof. They heard it smack against the concrete below.

  “Let’s go,” Xavier said. “There is no one below on the other side. Long-Tooth?” Xavier asked as his hunting partner breaths began to become labored.

  “Go, I’ll follow,” Long-Tooth replied, bracing his body with his arms, his head hanging low, his forehead nearly touching the roof.

  “Fool,” Xavier spat as he once again went tm fagain wo the top of the roof and over. He jumped down silently; biters began to walk towards him.

  Long-Tooth’s vision began to dim as veins of white viscous material formed over his iris before congealing into a milky mass he could not see through. “Xavier?” he asked. He rolled off the roof, nearly landing on top of the biter Xavier had tossed. He was dead before he came to rest.

  Xavier bounded off, Nome was engulfed in flames. Shots still rang out, he was thankful that none of them were directed his way. The ensuing weeks were extremely unkind to the Lycan. Humans were in an exponential decline. Lycan-kind as a species was starving, and when the biters finally found their lairs, the Lycan considered it a boon. They descended upon the infected people with a vengeance. More would die from eating tainted meat than the season of the great deprivation.

  Word had spread quickly of the human disease, but the devastation had been wrought. Lycan and human were now locked in an unknown alliance for the survival of their respective species. It was during these dark days that Xavier had experimented with using werewolves for his own devices, never out in the open, though; he would have been shunned from his community.

  He had lost fifty pounds of mass since the biters had come, and it had been difficult to not devour the small pack of humans he had found hiding in a remote cabin in the place the humans called the Yukon. He had eaten the male to stave off the worst of it; the female he had meant to turn, but as his canines sunk into her arm, he had lost control and ripped the appendage free. When he realized she would not make it until the following night and the full moon, he finished what he had started. Her whelps had cried in protest as he did so, but they were weak as all humans were. The girl had just started her blood, the boy had not yet matured…and never would.

  With his hunger held at bay, he bit them both on the fleshy parts of their arms. Almost tenderly, he was afraid that, if he sunk in too deep, they would soon follow their mother down his gullet. The weather outside was harsh even for a Lycan; the wind howled and snow was driving as he forced the younglings to walk towards the nearest human settlement. He didn’t understand how humans could thrive up here. The two he was shepherding hadn’t gone more than a mile and already their feet were red and bleeding. The girl had cried about not having shoes, and at the time he had not understand the squeaks of the food.

  “We will never make it at this pace,” he said to them in his guttural voice. The children had shrunk back as he did so. As distasteful as it was he scooped them up in his arms and loped towards a settlement.

  He reached the outskirts of the small city the following day. He could see the columns of smoke from the human fires, and he saw many biters milling about in the streets. He found a large snowdrift and deposited the children into it. He kept his head up and over so that he could keep an eye out for any approaching danger. The sun shone brightly but lacked any warmth, he barely noticed, his fur insulating him against the worst of it.

  He turned back to the children when he realized he could no longer see his shadow. The boy was blue and unmoving. The girl had shattered a few of her teeth from shivering so hard. Xavier had grabbed the boy and stripped the meager meat from him. He eyed the girl as he ate, wondering if she would make it until the moon’s rising. He almost hoped she wouldn’t – it seemed a shame to waste the morsel. Her eyes were glassing over as the sun faded into the horizon. The chattering had mostay,ing hadly stopped and a small smile began to spread her lips. Xavier thought she may be going mad, he’d seen it happen before. The humans did not do well with watching members of their packs destroyed. It made his job easier when they gave up; less squirming around as he ate.

  A cold wind whipped past as the moon began its journey. The top of it cresting over a distant mount. The girl had stilled moments earlier, Xavier had once again been tempted to finish her while warm blood still flowed through her and the infection hadn’t taken root. Her hands and feet had turned a shade of black he knew to be frostbite. He leaned in close as a fine down of fur began to sprout along her cheekbones. Her bones cracked as the Lycan virus within her began to force the change. Her mouth elongated into the hideous facsimile of her creator. Her useless human ears sprouted tufts of hair on the ends and began to pull out as if someone had grabbed the tips and pulled violently. A silent scream was plastered in the throat of the girl as her feet snapped and reformed into the oversized paws. Her spine curved like only a severe case of scoliosis could cause.

  “Abomination,” Xavier said as he watched the transformation. He’d heard about werewolves and had thought they sounded disgusting just by the description. To watch it happen in front of him had taken on a whole new meaning. The shape tried so hard to take on the form of the greater species but was so hampered by the genetic differences between the two as to create the distorted thin
g in front of him. He knew it was too late to eat her but thought that perhaps his experiment had gone far enough and that he should just end it.

  The minimum of clothes she had on tore from her body as she gained size and mass. Her eyes took on a yellow hue. She looked at Xavier, a wild power in her eyes. Xavier roughly grabbed the beast and threw her over the snow mound. He watched as she eyed the town ahead. She howled weakly and bounded off.

  “Fetch,” Xavier said as he stayed low and approached slowly.

  The girl ran for a pack of the biters even as they saw her and began to converge. The werewolf seemed confused. Messages in her Lycan-infused brain told her she was the predator and all below her should cower. She fought savagely and bit deeply as more and more of the biters attacked. Xavier didn’t watch too long, but he did take note of how many biters she had felled and how many more she had distracted. He was free to roam the small city in search of a viable food source.

  He would remember next time to bring more werewolves when he found himself almost riddled with bullets. He had taken care of one threat but not the other. In the end, he had sacrificed one meal and taken down six. Even bringing back two to his pack. The tainted humans had nearly cost his kind their existence, and he would forever harbor a deep-seated hatred against them. He already had disdain as they were nothing more than cattle with teeth, but th

  at had turned into a seething, red mass of anger and resentment; one which would propel him in his quest to control the united clans and finally drag man down from its lofty perch as top dog.

  He had another lesson he had learned from man: herding. Hunting was exhausting and dangerous. How much easier would life be if they had to do nothing more than pull one from a cell? Feeding them was laborious but they needed very little in comparison. A few rats and some wild onions and the vermin could survive almost indefinitely. At least until feeding time.

  r t

  CHAPTER 8 - Mike Journal Entry Six