Rise of the Werewolf Page 18

I was looking at crates and crates of ammunition and weaponry that had as of yet never seen the light of day. “There’s got to be hundreds of thousands of rounds here.”

  “Millions in fact.” Gount was beaming.

  “How? How has your town kept a secret this big? Surely someone would slip.”

  “Only Councilman Merrings and I know. That has been BT’s wish since the town was founded.”

  “I don’t even know what questions I want to ask first. So, none of the soldiers, not even Bailey, know about this?”

  “No, we impress upon them the importance of the rounds and the scarcity so that they will not use them needlessly and without truly thinking about what they are shooting.”

  “With so many guns and rounds why not just give the other communities what they need to defend themselves against the Lycan?”

  “What would happen, Michael, once the threat of the Lycan was dealt with?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “War,” I sighed. “War would be the inevitable outcome, those with more power desiring to impart their superiority over those with less of it.”

  “That’s exactly how BT saw it, and that’s why we have the secrecy we do. We would never be safe. Even if we gave other communities all they wanted they would eventually want more, and we would be nothing more than a war state always under constant threat.”

  “Sort of like Israel was.” I was reminiscing.

  “If Israel was surrounded by neighboring townships that wanted nothing more than to destroy them and gain land and resources then yes.”

  “That about nails it. I guess I was wrong about you as well, Gount.”

  “How so?”

  “I figured you to be an asshole. With this much power at your fingertips, and you not wielding it, says volumes about your character.”

  He laughed. “I still may be an asshole, as you so eloquently put it, but I am not a war-monger. The life we are trying to build here is much too valuable to waste it needlessly on such a fruitless endeavor.”

  “You do know you almost got me killed more than once when Wheatonville was attacked and then when I struck out to kill Xavier. With enough ammunition, I maybe could have saved Tommy as well.”

  “That is regrettable and I will tell you that my decisions weigh heavily upon me. I must constantly balance what I feel is right for our township, its inhabitants and those around us. I did not fully trust you when you left the first time.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I had a feeling Saltinda was being duplicitous. You going to the armory and removing the firing pins was all the proof I needed that you had found something out and were acting for the benefit of Talboton. Do not look so surprised. This is my town, after all. Not much happens here that I do not know about.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “Well, my sincerest hope is that whatever you heard is incorrect. I will have a man follow Saltinda’s party and give him the firing pins when he is a couple of days out from here. If however, Denarth, Ft Lufkin, and New Georgia are conspiring against us, we will deal with them swiftly and without impunity.”

  A slight shiver coursed up my spine. I had not been to war with man in a long, long time. The suffering we would impart on these potential usurpers would reverberate for years to come. I was trying to think of a way to bring them back to the table and find a peaceful resolution to the upcoming conflict. But we could not tell them about our superior firepower and use that as a deterrent because that was exactly what they were warring for. It made absolutely no sense, like the vast majority of wars, I suppose.

  “If you give me ten men and all the ammo we can carry, I can remove the Lycan threat.”

  “In time.”

  “Gount.”

  “Melvin.”

  “Your first name is Melvin?” It took about all I had to not say anything asinine. If you’ve seen my earlier journals you’ll realize this is nearly impossible for me. When he nodded and I realized he wasn’t making it up, I swallowed my acerbic comment down hard. “Melvin, you do realize time is not something we have an overabundance of, right?”

  “Even with the weapons, there are only a hundred or so soldiers properly trained on them. The rest of the folks here are farmers, shopkeepers, storeowners, and blacksmiths. Family people, Michael. If war is to be waged, you can rest assure that we may be facing upwards of a thousand hostile combatants. There is a very high possibility we will quickly be overwhelmed.”

  I wanted to tell him that I did not want to delay looking for my dog either, but we were talking about human lives numbering in the hundreds that were in jeopardy. And the odds that my lovable pooch Oggie had made it this long on his own were not good.

  Chapter Fourteen – Oggie

  This is the life, Augustine Purpose Talbot thought as he scratched his back against some tall grass on a riverbank. He had just finished catching and eating his lunch, what was left of the fish would not satisfy a small bird. The sun was shining down, his belly was full and the itch on his back had just been scratched. If the more-than-man being known as Talbot had been with him everything would have been perfect. Tommy had made it very clear to him as a whelp that it was important he always stay with the special two-legger, as it was necessary to do so to cure the Talbot-man from his illness. At first, Purpose had thought this was going to be more than he alone could do. The Talbot-man’s depths of despair seemingly had no bounds. He was steeped in his own futility.

  The love had come quickly enough between the two. Then it just became a matter of the Talbot-man grabbing ahold of that feeling and floating to the surface from the abyss he had been submerged in. After that initial trial period, Oggie, as the man was apt to call him, couldn’t have been any happier. Their life together mostly consisted of eating, playing, belly rubs, and sleep. It was as close to perfection as he could imagine. When they struck out on the road, things got more difficult, but if anything they grew closer as they explored this vast new world. Oggie loved the attention having more humans around entailed. Besides the Talbot-man, he loved Azile, Bailey, Lana and, especially, Tommy. It hurt his stomach to think too much about the death of his friend. The ancient boy who was more than he seemed and more than he portrayed was always quick with a smile and a hidden treat the likes of which Oggie had never had before.

  The one Tommy had called peanut butter was among the most delicious things he had ever eaten, his muzzle salivated at just the thought of the tasty morsel. His sadness at Tommy’s death had been compounded as he watched Talbot-man spin down fast from the loss. Oggie had promised he would not leave his side until he was sure that the man would not retreat back down to where he had come from. Waves of madness and revenge had radiated from his pack-mate and friend for days as they traveled in a hunt for the Lycan and saw the savagery the Lycan committed wherever they went. Oggie understood the need to eat, and he knew enough by how hard rabbits, deer and pigs ran from him that they valued life as much as any other creature. That they died so he could live was not lost on him. It was the way of the world. Most of the world. Some men would kill, and not for the basic premise upon which life demanded. The Lycan were worse; they killed with the sole purpose being the eventual extinction of another species.

  The Lycan had started a war where only one clear winner could emerge. He would choose the path that always walked with the Talbot-man, who was also more than he seemed.

  But less.

  A piece of him was missing; Oggie could smell the void almost as clearly as he could the whole of him. When Bailey had tied him up and they watched the Talbot-man go, he had almost gone mad trying to get away from his restraints. Had it been anyone but Bailey, he would have attacked until they were forced to let him go and be with his man. Even though Talbot-man had asked him to keep an eye on Bailey and the children, that they needed his help more than he did, Oggie was unsure which duty he took more to heart. When Bailey killed the infected boy, and the girl was once again safe, Oggie took that as his release from what he’d
promised. He’d gone looking for his man, but the trail was not fresh, and it was difficult to get a scent. He’d known the general direction Talbot-man had taken and little else. He had another connection that he had employed. It was a link Tommy had given them though he’d been warned that his man had closed this particular path off, and it would take some time before it could be reestablished. More than once, Oggie had attempted to visualize his man and his location, thereby establishing a line of communication. During his attempts and subsequent failures he’d learned something that none before him had.

  Oggie could track the void, the piece of Mike that was missing, not nearly as well as if Michael’s barriers went down but it was something, and it was with this determination that he’d set out. Oggie was snorting and grunting, generally enjoying himself when he noticed the cicadas had gone silent, just as a number of birds departed from a nearby tree. He quickly rolled onto his feet, the hair on his back bristling. He did not yet growl because he didn’t know what or if there was a threat out there. His pushed his nose up higher and took a sampling of air. His heart began to beat faster as the image of a Lycan dominated his thoughts.

  He began to slowly back out of the small clearing he was in. He had lost the scent of the beast which meant either it had gone past or circled around downwind and was even now stealthily making an approach. Oggie’s head whipped to the side when he heard the rustle of a bush.

  Please be a sparrow, please be a sparrow, he thought even as he kept backing up. What crashed through the brush not ten feet from him was either the largest, hairiest sparrow he’d ever seen…or a Lycan—either way, he did not hang around to see what it wanted. The air parted behind his hindquarters with a loud tearing sound as a massive claw swiped at the location he had just vacated.

  “Come back, cousin. We’ll reminisce before I eat you,” the voice boomed behind him, laughter following the taunt.

  Oggie didn’t spare a word in response or a glance behind him. That his paws could feel the ground shake from his pursuer was all he needed to know—the Lycan was about as close as he could be without having caught him.

  “I will have you soon. Not sure if you will taste better than a deer, but it will be satisfying to eat you either way.”

  Oggie knew the Lycan was faster, so outright running was not going to work. He employed a tactic of the jackrabbit that had, on more than one occasion, sent him sprawling in the wrong direction. Oggie cut sharply to his right. As he hoped, the larger animal was slower to react, and it took more time for him to come about.

  “My meat is tricky!” the Lycan yelled.

  Oggie waited until the Lycan closed the distance again before digging his paws into the dirt and once again abruptly changing direction to his right. This time the Lycan did not respond with anything other than a grunt. Oggie heard vegetation being torn up by the roots as the Lycan sought purchase in the ground in an attempt to keep up with his quarry.

  Oggie’s lungs were burning and his heart pained in his chest as he ran on. The muscles in his legs were beginning to tire. He did not know how much longer he could keep this game of life and death going. The seemingly tireless Lycan had righted himself and again closed the distance. As Oggie once again went to change direction, he took note of the Lycan, which had propelled itself to the side he thought Oggie was going to take. Had Oggie gone to the right again he would be in the Lycan’s mouth instead of the large piece of mulberry bush that resided there now.

  “Almost!” the Lycan spat out with the greenery. “This will end soon. I will enjoy eating you for putting me through this needless and pointless chase. I will rip out your throat quickly if you will just succumb now!” the Lycan was yelling, but it had not stopped its relentless pursuit.

  Oggie knew just how lucky he had been, but he was unsure as to how long the luck or he could keep going. I will not die like a rabbit. He’d made up his mind. He had moved to the side and stopped as hurriedly as he could. The tip of the Lycan’s claw dragged across the length of his spine, a burning fire erupting as the tear broke skin and wept blood. The Lycan bounded past a good ten yards. Oggie took some small pleasure in the fact that the Lycan looked a little worn out itself. Its chest was heaving, and its mouth was open wide as it attempted to dissipate the heat that was building up inside.

  The scowl on its face changed into a smile as it pushed off of a tree and turned to see that his prey had stopped its useless escape attempt.

  “It is better that a predator die in combat rather than being dragged down by its haunches. Would you not agree, dog?”

  “I am not dead yet, Lycan.”

  “Oh-ho! This one speaks! I have not eaten anything lately that has the ability of speech. When I do, though, they are not usually defiant. Screams for mercy and their bitches are mostly what I hear. The human screeching-speech is more than I can bear. It is unfortunate they can communicate at all.”

  Oggie lowered down and raised his hackles. A deep growl started in Oggie’s stomach and rumbled through his neck and came out his muzzle, large canines were visible as were the lines of long spittle from exertion, fear, and anger. The Lycan was trying to distract his intention with words, but he was moving ever so closer to get within striking distance. Oggie heard a sound coming up on his right, but he dared not spare a glance to investigate.

  “Mythros, nice of you to join us,” the Lycan that had been pursuing Oggie said as another monster emerged from Oggie’s side.

  “Padder, you know that I enjoy feasting much more than I enjoy chasing,” the new Lycan said.

  “Come, we will dine together,” Padder responded.

  Chapter Fifteen – Mike Journal Entry 9

  “Oh, Oggie, where are you?” I asked as I looked out onto the expanse of a field being cleared for the oncoming invasion. I was walking along the battlements looking for obvious weak points when I sent my message out. For the briefest of moments, I thought I felt a connection, and I did not like the terror that slithered along that tenuous link. My face must have flustered or paled because Bailey moved close to steady me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she wrapped a powerful hand around my arm to keep me from toppling off the parapet.

  As suddenly as the feeling came on, it went away. It departed so quickly and with no lingering residue that I thought perhaps I had imagined the whole thing. With Bailey to steady me, I recovered quickly.

  “How do I look?” I asked her.

  “Better.”

  “I think I know what having a stroke feels like. I would have sworn I heard from Oggie and he’s in trouble.”

  A pained expression came across Bailey’s features.

  “I’ve told you for the tenth time, Bailey, it’s not your fault. He would have found a way to get away from you no matter what you did to try and keep him restrained.”

  “I hope your feeling was wrong.”

  “As do I.”

  I was silent as I traversed my mind trying to make sense of what I felt. No answers were forthcoming. Although that did little to ease the rising trepidation I felt. I could only hope that what I felt was wrong because, if not, what Oggie was feeling was not only terrifying…it was imminent. I would be able to do little unless he was by my side and that was something he was not.

  “Dammit!”

  Bailey looked over to me when I shouted. This was Tommy’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten the dog for me, I wouldn’t have to be going through this emotional ringer. We were twenty-four or so hours out from being attacked. Gount had “miraculously” come across hundreds more rounds which he handed out. This could potentially be a slaughter if the people attacking employed a ‘straight on’ attack. There was no good outcome here. Man was already falling off the top of the shit heap he’d created, barely grasping at soft-rooted plants in a desperate bid to keep from tumbling down the entire precipice. What happened here was not going to help the cause; either Talboton was victorious and hundreds of Talboton, Ft. Lufkin, New Georgia, and Denarth citizens were dead, or the even worse
alternative, Talboton lost and still hundreds would be dead. When I had looked upon all those rounds, Gount’s words had made perfect sense. But would giving up the ammunition now be worth preventing an impending war, for one that would be on the horizon later?

  There was no easy answer. Every death tomorrow meant the Lycan just got stronger. The flip side was that, if all the townships were armed and ready, we stood a much better chance of defeating the Lycan. Then, inevitably, when that threat was over, we would come full circle and that war would cause the deaths of thousands. It is much easier to wage war on an enemy from a distance. If you never have to look them in the eyes, it does not become nearly as personal. Something almost intimate about sliding the blade of a knife in between the ribs of a man and piercing his heart. You get to know his deepest fears and truest loves in those final fleeting seconds he has left on the planet. A bullet carries with it no such attachment and can be dispatched without a second thought for what dreams it may crush. I do not enjoy dealing death to others, nor am I afraid of receiving its cold embrace from my enemies. Death just is, and like everything else in life, it serves a purpose.

  Bailey had gone to check on some of the guard stations to make sure her men were adequately supplied. She’d asked if I wished to join her; I had declined. I had other things I was keeping an eye on.

  “Perhaps, and hopefully, this is all for naught.” Gount had come up the stairs. He pulled his jacket closed tight as a brisk cold wind blew across us, heralding the change of seasons from the end of summer to the upcoming fall. I could see the red of leaves from the forest that was being pushed back but that was not what held my interest. It was the black shadows weaving in between the boughs of those branches.

  “Your optimism is welcome, Gount, as is your personage, but it is your hope that is for naught.”

  “And you know this how?” His question had an edge to it; and why shouldn’t it? “Have the scouts already returned? Why wasn’t I notified?”