%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
|
A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack |
| Conversations flew back and forth for the next several hours. Most of which, I wasn't privy too, but to be honest I'm not certain if anything would have changed if I was. Roam was on the phone screaming at times. Crash was too and more than once and disappeared only to appear hours later tired and angry, and still in werewolf mode. Cicely was typing furiously on this chat or that email. But the result was the same. Either, I'm sitting on a specific bench at a specific time at the edge of a park at sunset, or they would never see little Evy again. What could I do? We went to Cecily who outfitted me with just about every air pod and tracking device she could. Roam must have apologized a thousand times, and swore he'd find a different way. As he stood in that kitchen with big sorrowful eyes that looked as if he was going to start bawling his eyes out that very moment, I said, "Hey, a kid's involved. I'm in. Don't worry about it." Then I smiled and said, "I'm a salty, rotten bastard. Ask anyone. If they bite me, they'll spit me out." That sad attempt at black humor didn't go over quite as well as you'd think. Crash about crushed the life out of me with his hug. Then Zack joined in. Followed by Kris and Sean. Elouise did too, since she's become like a big sister to our group. We stood in the doorway of Roam's house holding each other as if waiting for time to stand still. But of course, time, like death, marches on. And when we're called, we all march along, whether we want to or not. Crash drove me in his Cadillac. "It feels appropriate," he said. No one else. Just me and him. At first we stood in front of it, letting me take in the sights for what felt like a last time. The crops in the distance, the strange nature of Roam's house which then looked smart instead of just weird: designed for efficiency and defense, not looks. The sun dropping down to the horizon. And Crash, in full werewolf mode, his ears down, his eyes welled up with unshed tears. "You...don't have to," he said. I nodded. "To get Evelyn back? Yes. Yes, I do." There wasn't any talking in that car. It felt like a first deployment all over again. Watching the trees pass by the car windows, wondering how much danger lies just beyond each one. Nerves pulled at my chest, making every breath heavy. But, I didn't grit my teeth as we pulled up to the park, that looked more like a new cemetery than an old park. I didn't shake as I stepped out of the car and looked around at the stone wall that circled it. I glanced around, nodded one last time at Roam who parked his own vehicle across the street, and walked towards my bench. There I sat, looking away from the highway, towards a treeline in the distance. At the time, I remember wishing I faced a sunset, but of course, the sun was behind me and all I could see was the encroaching darkness. Fitting, I guess for what I was waiting on. The Mercedes G-Wagon rolled into the park from behind me. I could hear it rolling up and wasn't surprised when I saw what it was. My guess at the time was that Verner had learned from his previous mistake. I wasn't certain when, if ever, we'd see him in another limousine. It rolled to a stop in front of me, then the window rolled down, and Verner, with his chiseled face and perfect chin looked at me and said, "Okay, you come. Then we will release her." "Yeah, right," I said. "Let Evelyn go first. She must go all the way to Roam, across the street. Then I'll let you take me." "I could take you by force right now," he growled. I shrugged. "You'd have five pissed off werewolves on you before I even made it to your car. There would be an open battle right here in front of all these good people, and I don't think you want that." Part of that was a bluff, part of it was true. There would have been at least three pissed off werewolves. I'm not so sure Sophia would have cared, and Donte, who had disappeared and pretended like he had other things to do was off doing his own surveillance, I knew. He didn't count so much as a werewolf, but he would have done what he could. Verner snarled and rolled the window up. There was a moment or two that I wasn't sure if he'd call my bluff or not. But a back door opened, and a little girl sprinted as hard as she could away from the car. There was tears in her eyes the entire way, and I could hear the relief in her voice as she cried out "daddy," when she ran up to Roam. Not 'Roam', not 'Roman'. Daddy. He hugged her tight and buried his chin into her shoulder, whispering something. If I had to guess it was probably something like 'I love you' or something similar, but I never asked. Witnessing that brief moment, the real love they had for each other, made everything that happened and everything after worth it. Verner exited his vehicle and made a show of slamming the door. He walked over to the bench and sat down upon it. "I wish," he said, "you were a werewolf. We could use one like yourself. Vicious. Resourceful. Intelligent. Ah, but life is cruel at times. You have the soul of a werewolf within you, but you do not have the flesh of one." "Life is a cruel mistress," I said. "You know, it was always about you," he told me. "The girl. The fight. Everything. I told Roam from the start to get me you and he could have his daughter back." I smiled. "Nice to see someone willing to swipe right." "This request was supposed to keep you busy, keep you arguing, but no. You persisted. You had to interfere. This is twice now. We had this won almost and you interfered. You disrupt every where you go. Cause problems." "Now you sound like my drill sergeant," I said. "You come with us now. It is time." "This bullshit ends," I said. Well, it was probably more of a snarl. He smiled to me. There was some sympathy in it, but most of it seemed to be respect. "Come now," he said, "You are no longer in any position to argue." What else could I do? I stood. Then took a step towards his vehicle. "Just make it quick." He gave me a dark laugh and said, "I can promise you that your death will be slow. We are going to make a celebration of it. We have something very fun planned for your final moments." Then I stepped into the vehicle. There was a needle. Then, there was nothing. |
| It had taken some time and effort, but we finally got Behring's schedule. Behring, being the head of The Nobility here in America, was a bit difficult to nail down. Most of his time was spent in L.A. and New York. He hated coming to 'fly over country' as it's been called and even hated more, having to spend time here. But, due to Roam's activities and whatever he had Crash up to, it pulled Behring away from important meetings with several heads of tech corporations. Meetings that involved a lot of alcohol and time spent on yachts of course. But important meetings, none the less. I do not want to disparage the efforts of Cecily here. She was the silent warrior in all of this. With a pot of overly caffeinated coffee on standby, she spent hours and days weaving her way through forums, blog posts, Reddit postings, and delved into private accounts in chat rooms, further into computer and cloud data, and finally had achieved her goal: collecting, then verifying Verner's schedule for his time locally. There's just no way to describe what she did other than in a couple of sentences. But those sentences do not do her effort justice, and I'm grateful she was able to get that information. But it took time, and while she was chugging coffee, listening to old rock and roll and Electro swing, I had taken Zack, Sean, and Kris out back to rehearse and work on our own part of the plan. Could have I gotten pistols? Yes. It would have been easy for me to use Roam's connections and get a couple more pistols, some silver ammunition, and had a little target practice. But, the thing was, I didn't want there to be shooting. Not if we were able to do what I had hoped we were able to do. So, instead, we practiced working with radios, working with traffic. Following and trailing vehicles without being seen. They wanted a taste of military life, and boy did they get it: repeating the same actions over and over, studying a single plan as many ways as they could until they were ready to vomit the details and started seeing them in my life. No one liked it, but I do appreciate everything the time they gave me for it. What I wanted was simple. I wanted a conversation. You don't exactly schedule a sit down with Behring. The only ones that ever got to his smug, GQ looking face was those in his inner circle. Everyone else was unworthy of his time and couldn't reach the 'alpha' under no circumstances. What's more, The Nobility regularly employs normal humans to work with them and their shell organizations, though none of them know what's going on or the truth about werewolves. That's how I knew this was going to work. Verner didn't care enough about the humans around him to recognize their scent let alone study their face. The day we chose to do it on, Verner had a meeting down town with some of the zoning boards, where he planned to throw his weight around. Then there was going to be a dinner. A limo of course would take him from City Hall to the three blocks in front of the restaurant. After cocktails and steak, he would then travel back to the office. From there would be a private jet flight to Los Angeles to help set up future workings in California. We didn't plan on Verner making the flight out to California. The city street we'd chosen was a quiet one. Standard traffic moved through, that cared more about sitting at Redlights than they did about the going on's around them. Many people get tunnel vision in cars, they see bystanders, but don't pay attention to what's happening to them unless there's a wreck or gunshots. Their tunnel vision would help my plan. Zack and Donte road together in one vehicle. Kris and Sean took another, and as our werewolf friend dined on the finest in rare steak cooked at the finest restaurant in that small city, Donte was dropped off. It was glorious to see an expert at work. The conversation went smooth, a handshake was completed, and the man gave Donte a hat and walked off. When I asked later what had happened, he said, "I just convinced him that I was there to take over his shift. He looked disgruntled and I got the impression he'd been harrassed all morning by that jerk." It did take some 'tools of the trade' to complete the job. I get the impression that 'tool of the trade' was a wad of cash. Donte walked over, opened the door for me and I got in. Easy peasy. Kris climbed in the drivers seat next to Donte. The other two continued circling. The plan was in motion. The limo was this gleaming piece of American machinery. A glorious tribute to excess and notoriety, built out of a German SUV. There was a total of six doors on it, a hatch back that did not open, and plush red carpets and red leather on the inside. The roof was some sort of fancy electrostatic glass, that at the press of a button went clear or turned to a dark gray. A fridge near the end held champagne. There was the obligatory television inside as well, and probably some game station or another if I'd bothered to look. Verner Behring didn't even recognize me at first when he climbed in the back. Just sat back, his good arm resting on the arm rest. When he did recognize me, see me sitting opposite of him, holding the pistol out towards him, he gave me a small smile, then pulled out the champagne bottle, and a couple glasses. Meticulously he began to pour them. "Last time we met," he said, "I was not a good host. For that I do apologize. Would you like champagne?" "I don't drink." He smiled. "That's right. You're pretending you're not an alcoholic. I keep forgetting that." I gave him a dark chuckle. "Alcoholics go to meetings. I'm a recovering drunk. How's your left hand these days?" "It's a good thing I'm right handed," he said. "I guess this is why we did not find you at home." "If you had called ahead, we could have arranged something." He laughed. "Yes, I remember. Trip wire. Paint cans was it? Did you copy everything from Home Alone in that attempt at home defense?" "No," I said. "Some of it was from 'Blank Check'. Did you get your butts kicked again when we weren't even home?" Silence. "Okay, I want to hear about this." He balled up a fist in his good hand and glared at me. "It's a good thing I'm right handed, you know. Though, next time we're in town we'll have to do more than punish your troll friends for all of the trouble they caused." "You what?" "Oh, cat got your tongue? Your troll friends. You took an arm, so I did the same. Don't worry, she'll survive. Probably." We glared at each other for a moment. Red anger flared up in me for a moment. Charles' family did nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. Kris clicked on the intercom. "If you don't shoot his smug ass, I will." "There is more than one way to fight a war," he said. His grin widened. "All of your friends will be punished. All of your family. We will cut you off from everyone and everything you've ever loved." I shook my head. Somewhere, inside, the laughter came. It built up and grew into this glorious loud, long guffaw that must have had everyone who could hear me scratching their heads. "I didn't think you were, but you are. Oh my God, thank you! Thank you for being so, predictably, empirically stupid! Wow!" "I am sorry, I am confused. Why is this humorous to you?" He truly was confused. He did the head-tilt and everything. "Because, you jackass, you're making moves. But, in classic, 'Nobility' fashion, you're making moves too late! Wow! No wonder you're getting your asses kicked everywhere." I had no idea if they were, but his face growing dark when I said that told me I'd gotten close to the mark. "You operate here at the behest of several organizations and politicians. Money talks, everyone knows that. You wanted to fight a war. Did you think my entire plan was to what, sit down with you in the back of some cheesy limo and watch you drink over priced champagne?" I sighed, heavily, and leaned forward. "Crash. His re-acquaintance. His boss. A few friends I have from my old occupation. Well, we've been busy. Meanwhile, you're hacking up innocent neighbors who's only real crime is being way too open about their sex life, we've been working." The full weight of my plan. It wasn't about a sit down with Verner. "You're right. There's many ways to fight a war," I said. "These corporations, you see, they just want to make money as quickly and easily as possible. If you give them a bit of a shove, they will stumble forward for you without you having to do all that much." He glared at me, "you didn't..." I smiled wider, "attack anyone? You're right. Did we talk? Oh, you bet. Don't worry shnookims, you're not the first wannabe warlord defeated with a few phone calls and a couple of afternoon meetings." He gritted his teeth, but he laughed. "If we weren't in traffic, I'd have torn you apart by now. But you are smart. You see, I've been a little distracted assembling my own little dossier, this one on someone you may know." As he passed the file folder over to me, it had a single word across the top of it. "Crash". "I was tempted to tell you his real name," Verner said, "but why spoil the surprise on that." I opened the file. The contents. Well, the contents wasn't anything I hadn't seen before. "Your friend has been a busy puppy," he said. "I'd say his body count is up to thirteen as we speak. If he completed his mission it may very well be at fourteen by now." The images were from Crash's recent escapades. He'd been a very busy werewolf, slaughtering other werewolves, humans, just about anyone that had power and pull in his organization in the area. He had been busy. I wasn't stupid. I knew Crash was capable. Hell, everyone is capable within the right circumstances. But, some of these attacks seemed more than over the top. "He was sending a message like he used to," Verner said. "That was his signature, you know? Mutilation. Shred the body, toss the pieces around. Create a scene so horrifying that even the local police would be terrified of him." I closed the folder. "So," I said, "it seems we're at a cross roads." "What are you going to do about your friend? Not so innocent, is he?" "Look, Verner, you haven't changed anything. You still have the girl." He rolled his eyes. "Oh, that runaway. What a mess." "What do you know about it," I said. "She loves Roam still. We haven't been able to break her of that, yet. She's not certain about living with werewolves anymore, of that we were more successful. But another week, week and a half, and we will have her right where we need her to be." I nodded. "More than one way to fight a war." He smirked. "Yeah. We will have our victory one way or another. The trolls you so callously lived with should be gone by the time you get back. This little girl will piss herself anytime Roam shows fur. And, you, well, we have our plans." I set the pistol down on my knee. "You see? This is growth. This is me growing. Five years ago, I'd have executed you for that. Now? Well, Let's just say I'm learning." "What does that mean?" "That means, you're even dumber than you look if you think I just stopped at harassing a few executives at home." Then I leaned forward. I pressed a button for the intercom. "Okay, Kris. Find a curb." As he pulled the limo over, I said, "this is what I will do. For every single person you injure or kill, we'll kill three. We'll go after them at home. I'll go after them at work. There will be no safe place for you or anyone in your organization. We won't kill the foot soldiers. We'll go after you. Your board. Every. Single. One." I held up the folder he handed me, "and this?" I tossed it back at him. "Will look tame when we're done." Then I opened the door. "More than one way to fight a war. Have Evelyn back in Roam's arms safe and sound by the end of business today. Or we start getting mean." "How much do you trust Crash?" I paused, then turned to look at him. He took a sip of champagne, then set the glass back down. "That's just some of what he's been up to. I know enough about your 'friend' that could chill the blood of even you. You go on pretending that humans and werewolves are just the same. That everyone should love each other and sing and dance together in blissful harmony. But the truth is, he is a monster. Hunting other monsters. What happens when there are no more monsters to hunt?" The champagne bottle was still in the mini-fridge, where he left it at. I shot through the door of the fridge. I believe I hit it, though couldn't tell through the hissing of the freon. Even Verner backed away from that. "He'll get drunk like the rest of us monsters," I said then slammed the door behind me. There's no telling if he ever heard a single word that came out of my mouth after I fired that shot. But, he had it coming. Kris and Donte got out of the front, and all three of us walked to the car following behind us. I let Donte grab the door, and grabbed Kris's shoulder. "No matter what you heard," I said in his ear, "he's still your friend." Kris gave me a look like I'd slapped him. "I know," he said back. Then, he climbed in the car and we left Verner to sit there. With his busted fridge in his limo, in a crappy neighborhood of the small city he was calling a home base. There's more than one way to fight a war. The best way, I've found can many times let you win without sacrificing a single life. On the way home, I was hoping and praying to God, the universe, or anyone listening that I had found that way. We'd never change Verner's mind. His way of thinking has brought him too much excess to ever think different. Hopefully, though, those threats did something. Hopefully he checked to find out that three of those companies had indeed backed off, that his back pocket politician was renegotiating the deal they made. All changes made with phone calls and lots and lots of talking. Most of which wasn't done by me. Would it even work? Time would only tell. What was we going to go back to? Time would only tell for that, as well. |
| What followed was a tale of woe. Roam gave us as good of a blow-by-blow as he could, fighting back tears through some of the more painful parts. Evelyn lost her father at a young age due to a hunting accident. Her mother was driven into drugs from guilt because of her husband and died of an overdose. Apparently there was some huge fight or something before he went to his tree stand on that fateful day and fell off. Evelyn was placed into a foster care system. The home was crowded with kids. It was a loving enough family who knew that they couldn't give Evelyn emotional care she needed. They knew that Roam and Tanika, being who they are and what they are, could. The call went out and they accepted. Then, the sunshine that was Evelyn was brought into their lives. All ninety pounds or so, of rage, and pain. Look, I know there's a Hallmark version in the story somewhere, were this little girl goes out to this farm in the middle of nowhere after losing her parents and finds acceptance and love in....blank. However, real life just doesn't work like that. It takes work. Actual hard work to fight through those dark nights. The pain and rage at God or the universe or whoever is responsible for ripping apart an innocent life. Evelyn had gone through all of that. Not was going, had gone through; thanks in large part to her new furry family. Roam attributed it to the first run through the woods he took her on. Her on his furry shoulders, moving at speeds at night that she'd only ever dreamed of. His face lit up with excitement as he talked about how her grip was tight with fear at first, then slowly started to loosen over several minutes until, when he was about out of breath, she leaned in and whispered, "faster". "She was a dream," Roam said. "I'd do anything to have my little Evy back." We all looked at each other. "I can help," I said. The rest of the guys nodded to each other. I turned back to Roam. "We need Crash, and the room please. There's a lot to discuss." Crash, and Sophia both showed up. They were in human form. Sophia had her arm draped over him the entire time. "Funny," Elouise said. "I don't remember us asking for the puppy." Sophia snarled at her. "You wanted Crash, you get me too. We are a team. Think of us as one unit." I looked into Crash's eyes when she said that, he winced at the word 'unit'. There was a lot more going on here than I expected. But, what? Looking around the table, I said, "Wars are fought on a few fronts. Political, social, and of course the actual battle field itself. We have few advantages here if we fight. Their goal is of course to," "Our goal," Sophia said, interjecting, "is to free you all from the yoke of The Nobility." "You mind keeping your dog on a leash," Elouise snarled. "Varmint's about to get her tail bit off." "Anytime you want it, lizard woman," Sophia snarled. "We will make handbags out of you." Gritting my teeth at her 'we' comment, I pulled my pistol out and set it on the table. "Go ahead," I said. "Kill yourselves. I have enough ammo in this pistol for everyone to get a shot. Execute yourselves right now. Cause this sort of in-fighting is exactly what that is. I'd rather you just shoot yourselves in the damn head and make it quick instead of bringing this bullshit out there." I looked at Sophia, "And I don't need fucking help. We're having a discussion here. A family discussion. You're here as a guest. So mind your manners, or leave." She gave me a dark look, but didn't say anything. I looked over at Elouise, who seemed as if she was mad at me. I'd have to smooth that out later, though. "I volunteered myself. But I need to know now, look every one of you in the eye and have you tell me. That you're willing to do this. Go out that door, take up a gun just like this one, and start killing werewolves. Start killing people. Cause if you can't do that, then please, stay here." "I-I want practice," Zack said, "But I'm in." "You'll need a driver, sometime," Kris replied. "Where he goes, I go," Sean said. "I don't want anyone fighting. Except maybe, you Jason," Crash replied from his corner. "I want no innocent blood on my claws." "We can handle this," Sophia said. "You just keep your pretty little heads out of the way while the monsters get to work." I stood and glared at Sophia. "Yeah, you're doing such a bang up fucking job right now." She glared back. "I'd like to see you do better." "Evelyn? Where is she," I asked. "We're working on that," She snarled. "Behring? Where's he?" I got silence in answer to that question. "Crash," Kris said, "You call us your pack, remember? We're your pack. We can't just stand back and watch someone else tear us apart." He leaned his head down. Sophia pulled him into her, looking at Kris. "Yes, you're his pack," she said. "But, if you get yourselves killed, you ever stop to think what that would do to my poor baby here?" "Behring's close," I said. "Get him to come out. We can," "He wants to kill all of you," Crash said. "Every one. Stay here. Stay safe. Please." I summoned as disappointed of a look as I could, and laid it on Crash. "You honestly think this is the first time someone powerful has hated me and wanted me dead? I'm like a cockroach. I turn up at the wrong times, spoil the party, float in the punch bowl, and always, always survive." "Oh yeah," Sophia glared at me, "what about them? Huh? Do they survive? How many times have you dragged them into danger?" I raised my hands, "Look," I said, "I'm not wreckless. I'm," "Yes, you are," Sophia snapped. "Crash has told me stories. He wants to stay away from you. You're dangerous." "Look, you walking, talking pair of overgrown pair of furry boots, Jason maybe a loud mouth, but he's our loudmouth, ya mangy varmint. Keep this up, you're going to get bit for your damn trouble," Elouise looked as if she was ready to go into battle right there and then. "Baby," Sophia whispered, in our earshot mind you. "You don't need this. Let's get going. Let's..." "Crash," Zack said, and pointed. "Outside. Now. Alone." He glared at Sophia. "And that means, this time, he goes alone." "I go with," she began. "If you take one step outside that door, I'll bite a chunk out of your hide and wear it as a hat," Elouise snarled. Sophia threw up her hands and stepped back towards the wall. Crash stepped outside. Zack, grabbed my arm, pulled me out with him. As soon as the door slammed shut, Zack held my hand up, "this," he said, "is the guy who saved your flea-bitten ass more than you can count. Yes, you saved him too just as many times. He's the reason why that Behring asshole has one arm, and we're still here as a family instead of in several different places with you, alone, lonely, or dead." He nodded. "Stand up to her," Zack said. "You can't let her dictate your choices. Be your own person." "You have no idea how hard my position is, right now," Crash looked towards the sky. "I can't just...losing you guys will kill me." "You won't lose anyone," I said. "I get Verner out. You use him as a bargaining chip to get Evelyn and anyone else back." It was a basic, easy plan. "You have a price on your head," Crash said. "Nobility hasn't done that in two hundred years. But they put a price on each of you." Zack looked like he had been gut punched. Me? I had to fight back a laugh. "Who's got the highest? Is it me? Tell me it's me," I said grinning like a mad man. "Of course it's you," Crash said. "But we're trying to keep you all safe. If they get their claws into you," "Crash, if you want us to sit in a room waiting for the end to come, then I guess they will," I said. "But, we all deserve a chance to at least fight for our lives." "If I'm going to die," Zack said, "I want to die fighting." "If I can help it, no one will die," I replied. Crash looked at me. "Jason, you have that look in your eye." "I think I have a plan," I replied. Zack and Crash looked at each other, then back at me and said in unison, "yikes." |
| The worst part of a battle sometimes is waiting for it to reach you. We were on pins and needles, listening to the chaos and carnage outside. There was the sound of splintering wood somewhere on the roof. Then a growl. A snarl. a sharp yip. Then a body rolled and fell to the ground. More chaos. No explosions. No real shouting. That's the part that seemed a bit strange at first. I'm used to explosions. Shouting. Hurried orders spoken over radio and shouted over the din of the battle. Instead, there was snarls and growls, a thousand chainsaws all started at once then stopped again over and over. We could only dream of what was going on outside, everyone too nervous to go near a window. The front door crashed inward, two werewolves snarling on top of each other, growling, and slashing. Elouise acted before I could. She grabbed the werewolf on top and threw it outside in a blur. The other werewolf got up, snarled at us, and then stepped out on its own volition. "Cecily," Zack asked. I shrugged. "Or Sophia." "Who cares. Mangy varmint," Elouise snarled, standing at the door. Her tail rocked back and forth, as she gave her own deep guttural growl that would chill the blood of anyone who grew up near gators. A low rumbling, clucking sound. The window shattered in the room I slept in. A roar as one climbed through. I raced upstairs, pistol drawn. Rounding the door, I raised my pistol. It was Crash. "You can't stay here," he snarled. "Come!" I took a single step. His ear tilted outwards, as if hearing something for the first time. "Wait." Turning his head, he looked, then disappeared. I went back downstairs to join the others. "We gotta go," I said. "Where," Zack asked. Where in deed? Werewolves were all over the compound. At least half of which wasn't friendly to us. One rougarou wasn't going to be enough to keep us safe. "We can't leave," Kris responded. "We're gonna," I began. Then I started to smell it. Smoke. I raced upstairs. The heat was enormous and growing. "They're gonna burn us out," I shouted, as I ran back downstairs. "We can't leave," Kris said again, his eyes going wide. "W-we can't..." Sean grabbed him tight for a moment, then stared at him. "I will never let anything happen to you." "As touching as that is," I said, "line up behind Elouise." She looked at me. "You take point," I said. "I take rear." "What if you don't have enough bullets," Zack asked. I shrugged. "Then it's like Kris said. I hope we give them the screaming shits." Everyone glanced at everyone else one last time. I gave them a single nod with a grim face and a small smile. Trying to look confidant in a Rambo way. But I couldn't help but feel like Weird Al playing Rambo in that skit in his movie. But, false motivation is better than no motivation, as they say. So I looked as tough as I could, nodded to Elouise to tell her we were ready, then moved with everyone as we stepped outside into the fire. The Rodriguez wanted a war, and well, they got one. Watching werewolves fight in open combat was a bit like watching bee hives in open combat. The movements was quick, far too quick to discern. They hacked. Slashed. Some ducking. Jumping. A wolf slammed into the wall in front of Elouise, snarled at her, then bounced up and dove into the foray. It wasn't like the werewolves were wearing collars with name tags on them. So my plan was to wait for them to attack before I fire. Elouise inched around the corner, where she ran into the wall that was Roam. "Wrong way," he growled. Then pointed a finger. "Go to the main compound." I glared at him. He lowered his ears for a moment, but didn't say anything. Just jumped back into the fight. It was then that I started to notice a pattern to the attacks. It wasn't just mindless jumping here and there. They were moving in maneuvers. It was coordinated. They had a plan. The Rodriguez pack had studied ancient Greek and Roman warfare. They were using common battle tactics of the time. Classic movements that are sometime still used today. Phalanx walls, but instead of a wall of swordsmen and shields, there was a wall of werewolves. Pincher movements. They were forcing ends together to try and choke off and cut off the enemy advance. Rodriguez had the brains. They had the tactics, and in many ways, the strength. What they didn't have was the numbers. For every werewolf the Rodriguez had, it seemed the Nobility had three. The sheer numbers was forcing the pincher movement to fail, the ends collapsing back into the wall. We moved as quick as we could. No more creeping. We followed the path back towards the main house, jogging. The battle around us hastening our steps. Ten feet to the front door. Then five. A werewolf attempted to ambush Elouise. She spun faster than I'd ever seen her move, striking the creature with her tail. "I'd say that's good for second base," I said. "Shit, that's good for a home run," Kris replied. "Nah, dude. She's getting up," Sean said. I fired a single shot into the werewolf. It jolted, then laid back down. "No, she's not." The Nobility wasn't as well maneuvered as the Rodriguez. But they had tactics of their own. After the pincher movement failed, they pressed inward on all sides. Forcing the Rodriguez back. They moved as one, going backwards one step at a time. I raised my pistol. Waiting. Of course I could shoot them. But, who was who? I recognized Crash on one side of things. He stepped backwards, gave a lone howl. Then the gunshot rang out. It originated somewhere inside the main house, but I didn't see where it came from. Two werewolves fell dead. The rest scattered. No one bothered to pursue them. "Lady and Gentlemen," I said, "I do believe we are officially at war." *** We had been seated at the table in the kitchen for over a half hour before Roam came through the door in human form. He was holding a bowl of soup with his hair disheveled as much as his clothing. He didn't look like Indiana Jones anymore. "We should talk," he said as he began serving the others. "So, talk." I looked down at the soup, then up at him. "This drugged?" A look of shame crossed his face for a moment. I was glad he could feel some shame. "I am sorry," he said. "But you have a penchant for sticking your nose in situations where you are not needed. I couldn't risk you doing that again." Crash came through the door. He was still in his werewolf form. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he snarled. "Who's brilliant idea was it to," he looked towards us. Then back at Roam. "Alright, I'm fighting in your damn war now. Send them home." Roam smiled, "well, I'd like to, but their presence is still required." "He'd tell you, you could probably leave, Crash. But, I have to stay." Crash blinked, turning his head sideways in confusion. Roam turned pale for a moment. "You see, there's a delicate balance that we're...." We all saw Crash tense up as rage began to build inside him. It was Zack who spoke up first. "Crash no," Zack shouted. "It doesn't matter! We're in this now. Going home will just get us killed." He looked at Roam, snarled then stomped off. Each footstep sounding as if he was crashing through the floor. "So, that's how he got the name," I said. Roam gave my lame joke a polite smile. "No. I gave him the moniker, but he would literally kill me if I told that story." "Alright," Elouise said, "Speak your damn piece." "Well," Roam pulled up a chair, holding a small bowl of soup of his own. "You see, wars are fought on two fronts. The Nobility out maneuvered us politically. They backed the correct candidates, had laws passed. We were backed into a corner, despite having pushed them off this continent." "So, you picked a fight," I said. "Finally, yes," Roam replied. I stood and turned towards the window. I wasn't seeing him, or the outside. I was a thousand miles away, looking at faces I had to say goodbye to beneath a hail of bullets. The politicians never seemed to care much about who they drag into their little territorial pissing matches. They only care about looking good in front of the body bags and caskets. Crying on cue as they walk through hospitals filled with broken bodies as they hand out medals to men and women who fought for them without a second thought. About making empty promises to wounded and grieving families sitting in front of flowers and gravestones as the rest of the world watches on. Why can't we bring back dueling? We could set a tournament up in the middle of the U.N. for the competing politicians. The two nations that have a disagreement, instead of them doing it with thousands of people, disrupting their lives and causing chaos, death and destruction, they can just do between themselves. Pistols at ten paces. Televise it live on cable news so everybody wins and gets what they want. Why do they always have to bring us into their fights? We sit eating food out of plastic bags in metal boxes in extreme heat and cold in fifty pounds or more of gear and armor while they eat prime rib, shrimp, and caviar and sip champagne while they proclaim how much they understand our struggle. Why can't they for once fight for their fucking selves? This is a rant that I, for once, kept my mouth shut on. Instead, I turned and looked at Roam. I'm not sure what was in my eye, but it made him do a double take. "You wanted us to fight? Well, I'm always willing." I leaned forward, and glared at him. "But even Uncle Sam was kind enough to ask first. He didn't lie to me to get me to do it. You, on the other hand, have lied to and manipulated us the entire fucking time. So, you're going to ask us. Ask us to fucking fight for you. Stop lying and just ask us." He pushed his bowl forward, sighed and said, "okay. I suppose it was wrong of me to try and be sly with someone incapable of trusting anyone." I grimaced, but otherwise let his comment slide. He continued. "Will you please, for the love of God and everything that is holy, help me save my daughter?" There was a look of real pain on his face as a tear formed in his eye. "Please?" |
| The military does not make you patient. That's a misnomer that I've heard a time or two. It merely makes you good at waiting. The old saying goes, "Hurry up and wait." That's what we were doing. We had been shuffled off to our rooms, locked in, and forced to wait. We weren't doing it patiently. My hip woke me up. It was in pain, but the throbbing dull kind of ache that makes you wish you hadn't bothered with this whole thing called 'being awake'. I stood and hobbled a bit, first checking my pistol. It was there, thankfully. Clips fully loaded, giving me a grand total of thirty six shots. Each bullet silver. Downstairs a folding table was set up with food on it. Paper plates with paper plate toppers to keep food lukewarm, with our names written in sharpie across the top. I half walked, half stumbled down the stairs, each jolt sending fresh pain into me waking me up a little more. If I couldn't have caffeine to keep me moving, at least I had anger and pain. It was starting to feel a whole lot more like military service. It was almost like prison, in a sense. We stood around. We waited. We talked. Elouise visited me sometime after microwaved eggs but before microwaved burgers. I swear, whoever thought they were "cooking" for us, I'm going to find them, tie them down, and force them to watch a marathon of "Good Eats" until they know how to fry an egg and a burger. "What you think this is about," she asked. "How much you want to bet we're being bugged," I replied. She shrugged. "Does it matter?" "Well, I suppose not. Hi Cecily!" I said, waving at a wall where I suspected a camera to be. I could imagine her snarling at the screen in frustration, and that made me smile for a moment. "Let's tip our hand a little," I said. "This is part of what I know. The Nobility are not in active war with The Rodriguez clan." She arched an eyebrow. "That's right Cecily," I said louder. "I don't believe you two are actually fighting. A truce has been reached. That's why Donte and Killian are never together in the same damn place. They're trading off. The Nobility has them. And you get...who? That's what I've been wondering all morning. That's part of what I believe I have figured out." Elouise paced a bit, and smiled. "It sort of reminds me of that old movie, 'The Godfather', in a way, doesn't it?" "Yeah," I said. "They...." That's when everything began to fall into place. "Oh, shit," I said, my eyes widening. "What," Elouise asked. "You're going to have to put on your gator boots." "What the hell is going on," Elouise snarled. I thought about whispering, but they'd hear us anyway. "Damn werewolf ears," I snarled, and looked at Kris, who was wiping sleep from his eyes as he leaned against Sean. Zack grumbled, but crossed his arms. "Shit, they're going to know anyway," I snarled. "No wonder they tossed me back in here last night." "Jason," Kris yawned, then said, "can you pretend for a moment that we have no clue what you're talking about and tell us what's going on?" "The Nobility," I said. "This was all about the Nobility. Think about it. Sophia being dead but not. Her just showing up, but never quite sticking around. Constantly disappearing with Crash. And Killian and Donte always disappearing too." "You're not making sense," Elouise said. "What do those jokers have anything to do with anythin?" "Because," I said looking at her. "They're supposedly at war, right?" Elouise nodded. Then paused. "You know, I ain't seen a single attack." "There was that one," Zack said. "We were all in the car for that a few hours ago." "Yeah, with two werewolves. No dead werewolves from that, and they didn't grab a single one of us. Remember a few months back that was the first thing the Nobility did. They grabbed Crash. Then they grabbed all of us." "Yeah," Elouise said, "it was pretty strange how...tame the werewolf attack seemed." I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. "Exactly! It was loud, but there wasn't any blood. No snarling. Almost like it was staged. Not a real attack. And you can't have a war without attacks, can you?" "Well," Sean smiled sheepishly a bit, "there is that war that Canada fought with Whiskey." We all stared at Sean, who's sheepish smile widened. "It's like, true! I swear, dude. They go to this island, and then put a bottle of whiskey down and their flag. Then they leave and the other side, I think it was Danish, but I'm not sure. Anyway, they take the Canadian whiskey and flag and leave their own flag and whiskey. They fight without firing a single shot." We stared at Sean for a moment longer. Kris hugged him then and whispered into his ear something that made Elouise giggle. Sean blushed but didn't say anything. "Anyway," I said, "thanks for that weird detour. But, I believe I know what's going on, here. I don't have everything. But, Killian, and Donte. They're being held in rotation. In return, the Rodriguez gets someone." "Who," Zack asked. "Sophia." They all blink. "I saw them last year. Most of you were kidnapped, but I saw them. They hated being down there with us under those circumstances. They were willing to fight. Willing to do anything they could to get their family back." "So," Zack said, "Why don't they just get Killian and Donte back when Sophia is here?" "I don't think they can," I said. "Something is happening. The Rodriguez needs The Nobility to fire the first shot." "Why, though," Elouise asked. I shrugged. "Don't know that yet. But, I believe that Cecily isn't the one seeing us and hearing us right now. If I'm right, then..." A lone howl echoed out in the distance. It was long. Followed by others. Howls on all sides. Lots of them. A chorus that reverberated through the entire building and chilled our blood. I didn't have nearly enough. "Shit," I snarled. Then I looked at Elouise, who was already stripping down. "Give a girl some privacy, damn!" Blushing, I turned so she could change for her shift. "Sorry," I said. "So, Crash brought us here as..." I stopped Zack in his tracks with that statement. "No." I snapped. "Crash didn't betray us. Not willingly. We're here to support him. I suspect he's going to need it when he gets back. But for the Rodriguez, we're here as fucking..." "....bait." Kris said. "Shit." "I don't get it," Zack said. "Why us? Why?" "Because of the one armed bandit running them over here," I said. "Remember?" "Verner Behring," Sean and Kris snarled. I nodded. "I get to shoot his ass this time," Kris snapped. I smiled. It probably looked like a half snarl though. "We'll see." "But still. They're big huge creatures capable of doing so much. Why worry about us," Zack asked. "Because," Sean said, staring out the window. "We shamed them. We kicked them out of our home. We invaded theirs. We even, like, disfigured their leader. They owe us." "Well, I hope I give them indigestion," Kris snapped. "I hope it's the screaming shits." "Don't freak out yet," Elouise said. "Stay in the hallway. Stay together. Mama's gotcha." She was in full warrior mode. Arms out, thick with scales and claws, her tail lashing from side to side, and a low growl in her throat. The monsters were quite literally scratching at the door. I had my pistol out in the low ready position. We were trapped in the hallway. Listening to the dying howls, and the sounds of splintering wood. |
| The light at the gate was very dim so the picture to me was just a black box on a white sheet of paper. I guessed Crash could see it though, cause with just a single glance, he leaped out of the car and disappeared into the tree line. Another blur disappeared after him. "What the hell," I asked Roam. "Sophia is going to get him," he said. There was a look on Roam's face that I couldn't read. Plus it was still very dark. "She'll bring him back," Roam said. "She always does." I jumped back in Crash's car, and pulled around their gravel drive. I only ground one gear! I mean, I only used one gear, but still, the transmission will live. I followed Roam into the house, who walked over towards the kitchen and kissed his wife, then turned to us. They were both still human, Cecily was over in the corner still human as well. Donte was sitting at the kitchent able across from Eleanor, looking down at his hands and not raising his eyes to me or anyone. Then there was the guys. Kris and Sean were leaned together on the love seat, half dozing. It looked as if they were doing that kid thing were they're trying to stay awake, but their eye lids are just too heavy. I'd have snapped a photo if Kris wouldn't try to break my arm for it. Zack leand against the couch snoring away and Elouise was next to him doing the same. At least there was better lighting in there. Grabbing the print out again, I got a better look at the image. It was a camera still. A blurry shot of a werewolf attacking a security guard. The entire print out had the mosaic tile look of a low resolution image being blown up way passed it's own ability. The guard's face was obscure, the attack angle weird, but still, it'd be convincing enough for a jury. One that believed in werewolves that is. Not that they ever get a jury trial. "I'll have it deleted by morning," Eleanor said. "If they have any backups not on the network we'll have trouble, but I don't think that will be a problem." "What I don't get," I glanced around the room. I was standing near Roam who stood in the doorway between the kitchen area and the living room. "Is why the hell are they bothering with this? Why won't they just come attack us?" "We're sovereign citizens of this nation," Roam said. "They're not. They can't just..." "Oh bull shit," Kris muttered from the corner, he half yawned, then said, "If they're 'Nobility' or whatever, they have diplomatic immunity, they would just be deported." I'm pretty certain he fell all the way asleep by then. I raised my eyebrows at Roam, giving him a questioning look. Kris took the words right out of my mouth. "Well," Roam said, then looking down, "I-I'm not sure." "Eleanor will remove the image," I said. "So, why are we even bothered about this?" "Look," Roam said, "Sophia will get Crash. Then, we'll have everything well in hand." "What did Crash do for you when he was here?" That stopped everyone. "What," Tanika asked stepping forward. "What did you say?" "What did Crash do for you when he was here?" "That's..." Roam started, then said, "That's classified." I laughed, "That's rich. No, it's not. You're not government. If you were, Crash would be locked up, we'd be in a motel somewhere eating crappy fast food and hanging out with Ms. Congeniality over there," I motioned towards Cecily. She snarled, but didn't say anything. "Well, then it's sensitive, and I don't want to broach that," Roam said. What bugged me the most about the entire situation was that I was missing something. You have to understand, the most I've interacted with the Rodriguez pack had been about a year ago or so when the first "Nobility" thing went down. From there, Donte and I exchanged messages and the occasional greeting card, but that was about it. Eleanor gave me a hello once on the blog, then deleted it. Roam and Tanika? Nothing. We were essentially waiting around. The guys went out to their prospective beds. It was a nice enough place that we'd all had our own bedroom, though I never asked who we were putting out with this. A little snooping revealed a bit more to me. Killian's name was on more than a couple things in there. Come to think of it, when was the last time we had seen Killian? It had been several hours prior, during that botched debriefing we'd been given. He was gone. Roam was in the living room, standing towards the kitchen. Tanika was by his side, essentially. Eleanor was over at the kitchen table, staring down at her laptop like always it felt like. So, who did that leave? Killian and Donte. It was weird, I'd never seen either one of them in the room at the exact same time the entire trip. Donte was gone with Roam. Then when they got back, Killian was still inside. Wasn't he? No, he wasn't. What the hell was going on? The door to my room was, of course, locked. I didn't lock it, but that wouldn't be much of a problem. The military teaches you a few things. One of which is how to bypass locked doors. Especially when you don't want to wait over an hour to sign a key out just to get a mop from the mop closet. Blockbuster has long since been defunct, but their products still come in handy for me from time to time. That blue and yellow card is just flexible enough to bypass basic door locks. A simple slip into the jamb and press down on the latch, and the door swung freely open. Thank you, Blockbuster! I looked at the door knob. Someone had reversed it. They placed the lock on the outside. It was one of those push style knobs, the ones you push then turn to lock. This entire thing was getting out of hand. I went over to the room that Elouise was staying in, but she was out, snoring loudly. Much louder than I'd ever hear her snore. Everything appeared haphazard. We had been locked in with the fastest rush jobs in all of rush jobs. If it wasn't for the fact that our door pulled inward, I was willing to bet they'd have just slid a chair under the knob. The gang was drugged on something and Crash was off on his own again, doing God knows what with Sophia. I needed answers, and I wasn't about to just wait around and hoped Crash survived long enough to find them. Down the stairs. I started limping as I rounded the corner, my knee and hip was exhausted. Which meant the pain was going to come, which also meant I was probably going to be in the floor soon without help. But damn it, I didn't care. Someone knew something and I was going to find out what. I walked across the yard in the dark, until I was picked up by a dark furred figure. "You're supposed to be in your room," he snarled. "Roam I presume." All I could see in the darkness was eye-shine. But it certainly could have been him. "Why are you out?" "Why are you tricking Crash?" Clawed, haired fingers grabbed the collar of my shirt and began tightening it. "I could kill you right here, you know." "Yes," I gasped, "but Crash would go to war on you." That stopped him. "Go back to your room," He snarled. Then dropped me a little too hard. It took everything I had in me to stay upright at that moment. But damn it, I wasn't about to collapse in front of him. "What are you doing to him," I asked again. He didn't respond, just turned. If I could see his ears, they would have been flattened in shame. "Just go back to your room," he said. "And don't ask questions you don't want answered." "Is it questions I don't want answered," I asked. "Or ones you don't want answered?" To those two questions, he didn't respond. Part of me wishes I'd continued snooping around the grounds that night. I was exhausted, my hip throbbing, my knee weak, but still. Maybe I could have figured something else out. Perhaps the outcome of everything could have been a lot less bitter sweet if I had figured things out sooner than I did. I'm no Columbo, though. I'm only human. Those little idiosyncrasies that all the detectives always catch on television just normally go right over my head. It does one little good to wonder, to sit and worry at night watching the stars move across the sky as you wish for your eyes to close when your head hits the pillow. When I finally went to sleep that night, dawn had just cracked over the horizon, not quite breaking the day open yet. There was no sign of Crash. That didn't sit right, either. It doesn't feel good being sidelined. It doesn't feel good being kept under lock and key with people watching your every step, the same people who are supposed to be friends and associates. People you've worked with in the past. One thing was certain that early morning when I finally started to drift off. I was beginning to understand why Crash didn't talk to this pack at all. |
| Crash had me suspended in the air. I had expected there to be more shouting, more threats. Someone to steal my quips and one-liners since air for me at that moment had become a precious commodity. But instead, Sophia stepped to Elouise. Elouise apparently pushed or threw Sophia, cause she collided with Crash, who released me as he was knocked down. That landing was one of the worst I've ever done. I had almost wished I landed on my head. Instead, it was my bad hip that took the brunt of the hit, sending pain up and down my leg, jolting through my back. I bit my lip as I writhed, clenching my eyes shut in a vain effort to shut out the pain. After what felt like eternity, the pain and accompanying muscle spasm finally subsided. The fight was over. Crash was standing over me like then like a guard dog. He even sat on his haunches like a dog, something that he had always swore to me he'd be caught dead doing. If only I wasn't in severe pain and had my camera out. "Fucking ouch," I growled, staring up at him. He lowered his ears, and looked down. It resembled the dog getting scolded for licking crumbs off the table. "Sorry," he said. "What happened," I asked. "Kris broke up the fight." I looked around. Everyone else was gone. Elouise had apparently taken the guys, and God only knew what happened to Sophia. "I...." he gasped, then looked down again. "I'm sorry. I never." I gritted my teeth. "You owe me a steak dinner," I said. "I'm talking the best fucking steak too. I want a porterhouse that makes a Filet Minogn look like one crappy things from Waffle House." He nodded. "You got it. You okay to stand?" "Just get me to the car," I said. It was becoming one hell of a trip. We drove in silence for a bit as we took the back way. "I..." he hissed, then said, "I had to do something." "I get that," I said. "Who?" "Some flunky. Wasn't even mythical. Just some human guy that the Nobility had hired. He had silver, and was determined to take my head. We weren't supposed to be there to..." Crash broke off again, tearing up. He revved the car and began to drive faster. "That's what makes it worse, you know? It was just some civilian, who thought he was doing the right thing. Jason, he was innocent, and I killed him." I got it at that moment. There's a difference between killing someone who is ready to kill you. Who has their own weapon locked and loaded, working from their own battle plan and killing someone who was so young and inexperienced they may as well not even be in the fight. "I tried to not," he said. "I...tried..." "You had no choice," I said. "I could have got shot," Crash replied. I shook my head. "No. You do that, and then I'll end up dead trying to kill every one of those self-righteous assholes." He looked at me for a moment and didn't say anything. We were driving through the back woods then, not paying much attention to where we were going or how we were getting there. Testing the bridge, so to speak, to identify where it had been charred and where to repair things. But his actions, they weren't unfamiliar to me. I'd seen other men self-destruct from such guilt. No one knows how to attack you like your own mind. PTSD can turn it into an untamed beast, ready to shred you to ribbons on the slightest provocation. But it's insidious. It's not a flash and suddenly you're standing in a killing field again for a battle you survived a decade ago. It's not like in the movies or the joke in those internet cartoons with all the cutesy animals killing each other. It's as simple as a memory. One that could be spurred on by a mundane object or person. A face caught the wrong way. A stop sign with a bullet hole in it. A car with just the right color of dirt on it's bumper and trunk. This memory springs two words which are deadly in this situation: "I wish". Then you're off to the races, your mind stringing incident after incident together. Each one your mind trying to go down avenues that had never been, trying to find a solution to mistakes you can never undo, because life has no backspace key. Your emotions rising up inside you as each scenario and failure plays over in your own head and you try to work out what you could have done differently. You know it's futile, but you still feel yourself doing it: slipping into those bonds of mistakes and yesterdays. Crash was right there, then. Chained to Yesterday and What Might Have Been. Two insidious task masters that never forgive and never lets you forget. I could tell it in the way his ear tipped down. The sniffles that he tried to hide as his heart broke in a thousand pieces and landed on his cheek fur. An idea occurred. One that would either backfire and send him spiraling, or wake him up. I wasn't sure, which. "Pull over," I said pointing to an abandoned parking lot. We were on the edge of a small city, now. And the place used to belong to a mechanic of some kind who probably had died decades ago, but no one wanted the building of. White plaster moss mold and stone. Sun bleached parking lot nearby so you could sit and watch to see if the roof was going to go ahead and cave the rest of the way in. "Get out," I said. He shook his head. "Come on," I limped over to the side of his car, pulling on his fur. "Get out!" Slowly, he climbed to his feet. "Now," I said. "Tell me, what choice did you have?" "I could have," he sighed. Then said, "Leaped over him." "Oh, so guns don't point up. Gotcha." I arched an eyebrow at him that got a snarl. "It was risky, but he'd be alive!" His ears tilted back and he slashed his claws at the air in frustration. "And you'd be dead! Hello! Don't you see what this is? You did what you had to do. Anything else, you'd be dead right now and Sophia would be snarling directions at us. We'd all die." He looked down, but didn't say anything. "You'd be dead, Crash. The war would go on. I'd kill myself trying to kill all of them. You know it's true." Again, he still didn't say anything. I grabbed his muzzle like a dog's, and pointed his eyes at me. "You're a good person, you hear me? Not a monster. A good person. You did what you had to do to survive." He pulled his head away, and sat back on the car. It rocked under his weight but held. "I still wish he hadn't forced me to do that." "We all do when it's our time," I said. "But, when it's a choice between you or them, damn it, you come home!" Stepping to him, I snarled right in his face and said, "You come home! you know damn well what it would do to all of us if you didn't." He nodded, then looked down. After a couple of moments, he looked at me and smiled. With a pat on my head he said, "Good werewolf impression." Taking a heavy sigh, and looking to the sky for a moment, "I guess you're right. It's just...a face I'll always see. Something I promised myself I'd never do again." "Wait...again?" Crash nodded. "Sophia has a habit," he said, then sighed, looking skyward again. "She's got a habit of taking these dangerous and crazy jobs. The types of things that ensures there will be fights and blood shed. She enjoys it. Makes her feel powerful." I limped around to the car, mostly to sit back down and take the pressure off of my sore hip and knee. "Sounds like a party girl. Before I met Sarah, I dated this red head. She liked to go to bars and get me into fights." Crash jumped back into the drivers seat and began driving. "Really," he asked. I nodded. "Yeah. If I won the fight, the sex was great. Thing was, the type of guys she chose to have me fight? I rarely won." He chuckled. "So, why did you agree to it?" "I didn't jump into the fights with them! Most of the time I would be sitting at the bar waiting on her to get out of the bathroom or something and some dude built like...well you, would grab me by the shoulder and take a swing." He smiled and then shook his head. "Why did you date her?" "Young and dumb. The sex, when we had it, was good. But I got tired of being punched, and we didn't have anything else in common. We hated each other I found out. For her half the fun it seems was watching me get punched." He laughed, which caused me to laugh. The mood began to lift almost until we got to the compound. I wasn't sure what to expect. Flames. Fires. Werewolves stacked from one barbed wire wall to the other. But, instead what I got was Roam, standing by the gate holding a photograph. Of Crash. "We got trouble." |
| We were surrounded by angry werewolves who looked like they wanted to turn us into shredded barbecue. If I had a M-2 .50 cal on hand with a thousand rounds of silver bullets I wouldn’t be able to get even half of them before they killed me. There was only one logical action. How does the old saying go? He that fights and runs away… I sprinted towards the cars, shouting at Elouise and whoever would listen, "Crank'er up! Let's go!" Crash and Sophia beat me to his, so I turned and raced towards Elouise. The only thing that that seemed to save my life was Crash staying put, fighting off werewolves as he waited for me to get in a car. Thought I heard Sophia shouting at him the whole time, but I'm not sure. There was a lot of shouting, growling, crying from Zack, Sean and Kris, who all got as low as the could in the car. The furballs attacking us were only concerned with Crash and Sophia. It was as if us humans wasn't even there, almost. As soon as I jumped in, Crash gunned it, his car shedding creatures of the night off of it as it moved. Elouise claims she wasn’t aiming for them, but we did thump a couple. It’s hard to kill a werewolf. But if you hit one with a ton of rolling aluminum and plastic, they will limp away from regretting their decisions. There wasn't a lot of options for me to help. Sure, I was armed, my trusty Glock loaded with silver bullets beside me. But, which one was Crash? Which was Sophia? Her fur pattern was chocolate brown, which is black under moonlight basically. Crashs’ was pitch black. It looked as if the night had come alive to eat you. The rest of them were all the same: black fur, fangs, teeth, snarls. In other words, I could get head shots in the dim light beneath the street lamp, sure. But, would I be killing Crash? Sophia? There’s also the whole “we’re in a neighborhood” thing. At the moment, I imagined we sounded like some sort of wild teenagers street racing on the back streets with a pack of dogs chasing us. If I start opening fire, that would bring all sorts of crazy heat down. Not to mention any one of those stray bullets could go into someone’s home or worse, someone's sleeping child in their home. Killed for the crime of going to bed on time after eating their vegetables. So, what could we do? Crash did some crazy driving, swerving and shaking the tail of his large caddy. The wolves shook but still held on. Sophia snarled, slashing at them, but seemed to be doing more damage to Crash's car than to any of the werewolves. I pulled out my phone. "What the hell you thinkin," Elouise said as I began to dial 9-1-1. "Calling for help," I said. She swerved. There was a thump. A loud snarl that turned into a sharp whine of pain. Then a glance that I swear would have been a glare if she had the time. "You crazy?!" "We have the right to be here," I said. "They don't!" "M-monsters," I shouted into the phone when I heard the familiar '9-1-1, what's your emergency?' line. There was a couple of clicks. Then a voice with a germanic accent said with a weary sigh, "I'll be right down." No one asking me where I was at the moment or anything. Just 'I'll be right down' and click! Not sure what to expect, I looked over at Elouise. "We haven't broken the law," I said. "We were out at the damn cemetery to pay our respects when we were attacked." "It's not been my experience that the cops think too much of that," she snarled. "Crash is a fucking cop, remember?! That's his job?" "Oh," she said. Crash made a left, and then a right and floored it. We struggled to follow, though her SUV seemed to be suited much better to off-roading then over land cruising. The forest was inky black on our right, with a pond or lake of some kind on our left. It was big, but we were a tad too busy for me to see if it was man-made or not. I caught a glimpse of piercing gold in the forest, then something ferocious exploded out of it. It was here that things got crazy. This creature, which appeared to be a little larger than the werewolves, grabbed a couple. I'm not sure if he grabbed their shoulder, or threw them, in one moment they were snarling at Crash, hanging on for dear life, the next they were off of Crash's car. As soon as one wolf caught site of the new arrival, it left without a fight. There was a snarling grunt of a roar that sounded like a wild boar was pissed. Then the rest scattered to the four winds. Crash pulled over to the side of the forest, as well as Elouise. We were all called out of our vehicles. It was then that I got a proper look at the guy. He later told me the proper name of his species is Jofurr. Speaking with a bit of a Germanic accent, the creature was actually quite pleasant once the unpleasantness had been dealt with. A thick tuft of hair was on his head that reminded me a bit of an eighties punk rocker. His eyes glowed with an eerie power. As far as build goes he was similar to Crash, though Crash seemed to have more finesse, and this guy, who hadn't identified himself yet, was built for power. The other strangeness was that he was wearing pants. They looked to be a converted pair of military trousers, worn with a simple rope belt and nothing else. What's so strange about that? Well, most mythicals work, in the fur we'll call it. Makes sense though for them, cause their fur is thick enough that you don't see anything unless you're trying to be a creep. The rougarou do it cause their physiology literally hides anything and everything. There's nothing on them to oggle at, so to speak. But this guy and the vampires were both wearing clothing of some kind. His facial features? Well, take a wild boar. Give it a jovial smile, and place it's head on a power lifter. You'd come close to how he appeared. "I'm Florian, Nice to meet you," the new guy said, grinning around his tusks. Then he laughed and looked at Crash. "You couldn't handle this pack of puppies?!" Crash glared at me. "I was handling it," he said. "I'm guessing you called?" Florian chuckled. "Well, they sure didn't look tougher than those Wendigo's you helped me with a while back." Crash shuttered. "Thanks for reminding me," he growled. "Yeah, we're all alright, I think." "Well, that begs me to wonder though, why are you here?" We all looked at each other for a moment. "Visiting a grave," I said. Florian looked at me, sniffed twice with his snout, and then leaned down into my face. "Now, the little human wouldn't be stupid enough to lie to me, would he?" I did call him, but I was still running on adrenaline. He got in my face with a threat. It's instinct. Drilled into me from years of military training. As he leaned forward and made his threat, I pulled my pistol. "Not without silver," I said, holding it at a low ready. Of all the reactions I expected, laughter wasn't one of them. Florian threw his arms up and in mock shock, then began to gawfaw, sometimes warping into a literal snort. "Don't shoot," he said, between snorts of laughter. Crash shook his head and pinched his eyes, with his ears folded back in the most disappointed look I'd seen on him in a while. "Jason," he said, "Jofurr won't be hurt with silver." Florian's laughter began to pitter out finally and he spoke with just a touch of malice. "Put your toy away, boy. Before I take offense." I hadn't been that embarrassed since that time I woke up drunk in the Wal-Mart bathroom. My cheeks burned as I slid my pistol back in it's holster. Every eye felt as if it was on me at that moment. What can I say? It was reaction. Monsters get in my face, I draw. Have been trained to do that since Basic. "I'm trying to sort some things out," Crash said. Florian snorted in Sophia's direction then nodded. "Well, be careful. Cause next time one of your posse might not be so smart as to call me. And next time, knowing what your sortin, I might not decide to come." Sophia looked down at that statement for a moment. Her ears folded back, like she had been embarrassed. Of course she didn't say anything. But knowing what I know now, yeah, I wouldn't have said anything either. I would have wanted a hole to crawl inside. Florian disappeared into the trees, his form melting back into the darkness from which it was born. After a few moments, both Crash and Sophia turned on me. Yes, I grabbed my pistol again when they did. "What the hell were you thinkin," he snarled. "We had this under control," Sophia snapped. "You did, did you? Cause it looked like we were all about to be dead!" "You didn't know the plan," she growled. "There was no plan," I snapped back. Crash, on instinct I think more than anything else, grabbed my shirt and lifted me a couple of inches off the ground. "Choose your next words carefully," Sophia said. "Cause they could be your last." I had never seen him like that. For anyone. It was as if part of his mind was now gone and what had replaced it was that of a real monster, begging to be let off a leash. I looked down into his eyes, and was about to say something about this being a terrible way to end a friendship. But Elouise beat me to it. "How about if you harm him or any of your friends hairball, you'll draw back a fuckin nub." She had morphed into full rougarou mode. Thick tail, scales, gator snout, the works. And she was ready to fight. |
| It was about fifteen minutes into the conversation with Roam when the strays arrived. Their arrival was a welcome addition. It was tiring dancing around the half-hearted apologies and forced small talk. Roam was judging my state of mind mostly by scent, and not being terribly subtle about it. I didn’t mind, Crash does that too, but he’s a lot more discreet. Perhaps there’s werewolf manners where you’re not supposed to let the other person know they’re sniffing you or something? Manners or no, it was a welcome reprieve when Donte arrived. His tall presence was a welcome reprieve from the apologetic tone of Roam. He shook my hand hand long and hard before bringing me into a one-armed hug. “I don’t think Roam was thinking when he grabbed this,” Donte said as he grabbed the half-drunk beer from my hand. I’d been mostly sipping on it out of politeness. Roam smiled and shrugged. “It was on short notice, eh? Donte’ could you please grab something more appropriate?” Donte smiled and pointed at me. “Way ahead of you. Odul’s okay?” “Soda is better,” I said. “Anything with bubbles and caffeine.” He disappeared for a moment and was right back, passing Roam who worked his way back into the building. He gave me an apologetic smile. “Look, Cecily and Killian they’ve been around werewolves too long, I think.” What could I do at that moment? Tell Donte that I knew why they were doing what they were doing, and perhaps they shouldn’t have pulled the thread they pulled to get what they wanted? Or that their temper tantrum, although entirely staged felt as if it paled in comparison to my very real tantrum that was still bubbling just under the surface? If Crash hadn’t needed me there, I would have said more than a couple things which would lead us all to things we’d later regret. It’s a talent. But that wouldn’t settle what Crash needed to get settled. There was something very real there that was at the root cause of everything. My friend wasn’t there for the grave at all. A grave which we all were increasingly suspecting to be fake. There was something else at play. An unsettled business that can only be as tangled and messy as any business with family. So, when Donte gave his excuses and jokes, I just nodded like an idiot as I gave a smile and said “Yeah, I guess so,” in the right places. “They don’t know it yet,” Donte said. “They really haven’t seen you work the way I have, but they need you. We really need you right now.” “What could possibly be happening that a group of werewolves can’t handle?” The smile fled from Donte’s face for a second. “Something big,” he said. “We think that...I mean we have information that leads us to believe...” “Jason, could you come in here for a second,” Roam asked, peaking his head out from the door of the house. He gave Donte a look for a second, and Donte looked down at his beer, which suddenly interested him a whole lot more than what he was going to say. I followed Roam and found Crash sitting in a room with the guys, and his family. Zack, Kris, and Sean wouldn’t look me in the eye, which meant one thing: Crash told. There’s a certain betrayal in that which stung. The events of my military career I’ve never went into on here and won’t go into. But the events of others, what other individuals had suffered through, whether I was there to witness it, or heard about it over beers on long painful nights filled with talking, tears and regret, I didn’t and will not divulge. It is not my place to say. I grew tight lipped as I gritted my teeth. “I had to explain a few things,” Crash said. I nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” Cecily said. “I had no idea.” I looked at her, but didn’t say anything. I turned to Crash and asked, “everything?” He only shook his head. “Jesus,” Kris said, “there’s more?!” With a pained smirk I replied, “probably lots. Crash hasn’t heard everything, either.” “Well, I know everything.” I glared at Eleanor, who looked up from her laptop in the corner. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a pony tail behind her. “What, I’m a hacker. You can’t tell me something like ‘he served and won’t talk about it’ and don’t expect me to not go snooping.” Yeah, understandable given her personality. Still wanted to kill her, but understandable I guess. “You got the grave site?” Crash looked at me and nodded, “yeah, we should be ready to go.” Of all the people I expected to give me words of wisdom in that moment, it wasn’t Sean. We piled into our vehicles, and I was getting ready to climb in with Elouise. I didn’t want to ride with them, to bear the weight of the stares, the whispers. But Sean patted me on the shoulder, and said, “Look dude, I know if you like, don’t want to talk about it or whatever. But if you do, we’re all here for you, man. Even if you just want to talk bullshit so you don’t have to think about bullshit.” With as much sincerity as I could muster, I looked at him and said “thank you.” But I still rode with Elouise. In Crash’s car, you get long periods of silence and classic rock. A side of classic rock you don’t normally get from rock stations. Not a lot of Elton John and Pink Floyd. But a bunch more of Dr. Hook. Punk bands you only know for one song but some how have fifteen amazing albums. And the occasional group that makes you wonder if they’re actual werewolves or if Crash is messing with you. In Elouise’s car, I got nineties country, and chatter. “So, yeah, that girl thinks she’s so slick with her super secret James bond room and whatnot,” Elouise said, following behind Crash’s tail lights. “But she ain’t as smart as she thinks she is. I mean, come on. Did you see the plan they were tryin ta get us to do? What have they been watchin too much bad cop shows or somethin? Gonna try to just jump’em on the street put them in a panel van and then what? Watch the werewolf tear through it at a red light?” She shook her head. “I can tell you why they’re in so much damn trouble.” She’s not normally that chatty. Perhaps she could see that I didn’t want to or need to talk at that moment? Sometimes its not the contents of words that matter so much, as it is the respect and courtesy given. Elouise must have understood that I didn’t want to talk or think about other things. Respected it, and gave me exactly what I needed. So, Elouise, thank you for that. It helped a lot. We pulled through one town in the evening, and cross the county to another. On the edge of a sleepy Midwestern town sat a missionary style Christian church with a quiet cemetery behind it. The church sat on a silent street lit with streetlights hung from power poles that draped lines down the side of the street. It was the kind of church where you’d expect Sunday luncheons and pancake breakfasts or fundraisers to buy books for the local school. It sat in the perfect neighborhood for a zombie apocalypse movie. Crash got out of his car, and walked a few feet, looking at the ground. I got out and followed him, with Elouise watching from her car. “I wasn’t trying to betray you,” Crash said, “I was trying to show them how much they hurt you.” “I understand. Next time make who knows my decision please,” I said through gritted teeth. He nodded, slowly pushing himself into a shift. As his arms grew hairier and his muzzle began to sprout, I drew my pistol. Twin golden eyes looked at me from the woods. Werewolf eyes. “Get back to the car, please.” “Trouble,” I asked. “No,” Crash said. “Not yet.” From the woods came a voice. A female voice. “So, you knew?” “Yes,” Crash said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” Emerging from the woods in full werewolf form was none other than Sophia Rodriguez. Crash walked towards her and they gave each other a respectful distance. Former lovers trying to respect boundaries and dodging the land mines of emotions they’ve laid between each other. I grabbed Crash’s discarded clothing from his shift and brought them to his car. “What’s going on,” Zack asked. “Looks like they’re talking,” I said. “Hope that’s a good thing,” Sean said. “It’s not,” Kris growled. “That’s the opposite of a good thing.” The two werewolves disappeared into the woods. I picked up Crash’s discarded clothing from his shift and brought them back to his car. Almost an hour later they emerged. As Crash came close to the vehicles, I could see the viscous dripping of blood from his claws and teeth as he approached. It was black in the fluorescent light of the street light, as if pure evil dripped from his teeth and claws. I’ve seen him torn up, covered in all kinds of filth and crud. I’d never seen Crash appear like a horror movie monster before that moment. It chilled my blood to the bone. He looked at me, his ears folding back, his lip curling. “You’re going to need your pistol.” “Shit,” I growled as I drew it from my holster. I looked around. I didn’t see any of them yet. But I could feel them. They were there, somewhere. Waiting. A moment passed. Then two. A pair of golden eyes appeared. Another behind it. A black silhouette emerged from a house down the street. Another behind us. We were trapped. And they were closing in. |
| A home must always be and feel like a home if it’s going to give you any sense of sanity. The crazier the life, the more like home it must be. So yes, the Rodriguez compound, so to speak, was almost an operating military base in some aspects. But in many others, it was just like anywhere else. Crazy prepper version, but anywhere else. The house itself was a log cabin design with beautiful windows large enough to let in natural lighting. I would not have been surprised if they were bullet proof. The roof had solar panels, and a couple of home made wind turbine generators that towed the line between sketchy and functional. There was a generator elsewhere as well that Roam happily pointed out as I made my way in. “I get a discount from a couple of the local fast food places” he said. “I buy their oil for a dollar a gallon. We filter ourselves and wammo! Electricity. Though we don’t need the generator all that often, surprisingly.” Which was a good thing. Running diesel generator on fast food cooking oil meant that you’d have a home that smelled of constant french fries, which would drive me nuts. The inside of the home was everything ours was not: Neat, organized, clean. Part of me missed our eclectic cluttered house already. Tanika sat at a kitchen table, sipping on a cup of coffee. As we walked in she stood and approached, giving Elouise and I a good sturdy handshake. “Come,” she said, “everyone is waiting in the back. I’ll bring you some coffee.” Our shared adventure with “The Nobility” didn’t seem to have much of an effect on her. She still had the strong frame, mediterranean influence, and of course, was still a werewolf, much like Roam. Of course their two children where also werewolves. They were seated at a somber table in a room that seemed to be built into the center of the house. I recognized the reinforced walls, the multi-display computer equipment, and of course, the large sliding door that could seal and lock from the inside. It would take something strong to break into this room. Or break out of it. Cecily was sitting at far end of the table with a laptop in front of her. She was staring at something on the screen with Killian sitting next to her. All of the rest of the gang was there, Crash, Sean, Kris, Zack. I grabbed a seat next to Zack, Elouise sat across from Crash. “Everyone here,” Roam asked, and yawned. He stretched a moment, then gave a sad smile, “it’s been some time since you’ve been in here, Crash.” “I don’t miss it,” he said. “Please, just tell me where’s the grave. I’ll pay my respects, and go.” “You’re going to be stepping into a storm,” Roam said. “We thought you should know that.” Crash waved a hand at the rest of us. “Nobility tends to leave humans alone.” “Your friends,” Cecily said, “pissed the Nobility off last year. It’s not safe.” “How ‘not safe’,” Zack asked. “I wouldn’t plan any sudden air travel,” she said. “And have you thought about a life insurance policy? You could make some lucky guy or gal a lot of money soon. Just not anyone sitting here, though.” Zack folded his hands and looked down, biting his lip a bit. “Look,” Roam said, “We want to take you down there, but you must be safe first.” Crash stood, snarling. “I never asked for an escort. Tell me where the grave is.” Roam threw his hands up, while Killian began laughing. Crash glared at him for a moment, and Killian just smiled wider. “You’ll never change, will you wuffy?” I filed the “wuffy” comment away for later. That would be funny. But now wasn’t the time for it. I guessed it was some sort of pet name or something. Of course, I guessed wrong. “We’ve been tracking the team that took out Sophia,” Roam said. “Took her out where,” I asked. “Well, you know, the team that killed her,” he replied. “Oh, from the way you said it, and how emotional you are, I thought you meant for pizza.” “You know,” Cecily, snarled, “You can be a real asshole when you want to be.” “Oh wuffy,” I smiled, “I’m just getting started.” That will come to be known as mistake number one. One second, I’m sitting in a chair smiling, the next, Cecily is pinning me down, growling. I couldn’t see that Elouise was being pinned in the corner by Roam, or Tanika who was trying to hold the guys back. Crash grabbed Cecily by the shoulders and threw her backwards into the wall with a force that would have stunned or injured most people. Cecily though, stood, shaking her head for a moment, and said, “come on, wuffy, I’ve wanted this for a while.” She was snarling at Crash who stood in front of her. Roam jumped on the table, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Can we please be civil for five minutes and not act like a bunch of Children! Behave!” Then he gave me a dark look for a moment and turned to Crash. “I will give you the damn address, you can GPS it yourself,” Roam snarled. “If you don’t want to take out those guys who killed Sophia, we’ll do it our selves.” “Like I said when I left,” Crash snarled, “I don’t want your stupid war. Not anymore.” He started towards the door, and we got up to follow him. Tanika stood next to it, pointing an accusatory finger. “You have any idea what you’re walking your ‘pack’ into? Do you? The nobility wants all of you dead. They want to capture you, and kill your humans one by one in front of you.” “Nice guys,” I said. “And you,” Cecily snarled, “Are taking this way too soft. I know you’re supposed to be some kind of soldier, but I wonder if you even know what it’s like to fight a war.” The guy’s faces dropped at that. I felt a rage build inside of me, and turned to Crash who just shook his head. Taking his advice, I began to walk out of the war room they had prepped, my vision growing hazy red. I apparently had began clenching my fists at one point, but I don’t remember doing it. “Look at you, you coward. Running away with your tail between your legs.” I turned. Later, I’m told I had a face that the rest of them hadn’t before. A dark snarl that was only matched by my rising voice. “War you say? Getting shipped off to the middle of a country that a week prior you gave two shits about to fight for a bunch of people who don’t care if you live or fucking die? Driving a supply convoy from one fob to the next only to have your entire vehicle flipped upside down with hell and damnation raining down upon you? Being trapped in a fire fight that ends with you collecting pieces of your friend to ship home in a body bag? No. What’s that like.” Then I turned back around and walked outside at some point, though I don’t remember it. There was a beer in my hand, an an apologetic Roam in front of me. “We crossed a line,” he said. “We had assumed you came up to help us. We are sorry.” I drank from the beer more to calm my nerves than anything. I sighed, and stared up at the sky. The deep blue shown a few stars making their way through dying day. I could tell that they would have a beautiful night out here. Get far away from civilization and out in the open enough, you never truly have a pitch black night. My blood pressure had eased down at least a few notches. “I don’t walk away from fights I choose to join,” I told him. “But I won’t be dragged in. You either come clean, or we go home.” A few more heavy paces and then I was leaning on Crash’s car. Of all the people I expected to come out and talk to me, I never expected it to be Kris. He sat against the car on my other side and said “Jesus, I never expected any of that.” I gave him a shrug. “It was the highlights. From one deployment.” “You went through how many?” I shrugged again. “Enough.” “If you ever want to talk about it, Jason. We’re hear for you.” I nodded. Crash and I had talked about it a few times. He’s heard all the stuff that I haven’t and won’t print here. But Kris? Could I really tell him anything? What would happen? I wouldn’t feel any better and he’d just feel worse, knowing what I went through. Knowing the bullshit that I had dealt with. No, that wouldn’t be right. “I appreciate it,” I said. “I really do.” Which I do. The desire is there in him to deal with it, even if the strength is not. There’s real steel in him, I know. The kind of strength that can take a hit like that and not break him But it took me a while to get the nightmares to go, the guilt, the anger, the despair. Those intense feelings that spring back up as if you’re living through the moment again when you give your mind a chance to rest. Is it any wonder why so many service members drink? How much of that is right to give to someone else? That’s the burden that most service members deal with. There’s a reason why they don’t want their loved ones to know. The burden, although shouldered by more can make it easier, it makes their lives worse to make yours better. Part of you wishes they could remain innocent. That you could bottle that innocence and preserve it on a shelf next to the canned peas and carrots. To save that part of them from pain. It was my job to take the pain before. It’s not my job to share that pain with them now. I gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, but didn’t say anything. Crash hadn’t come back out yet, which I knew was trouble. It was that moment that I made a pact with myself. No matter what happened, Zack, Kris and Sean wouldn’t have to see action. They wouldn’t have to suffer or fight. Elouise grew up dirt poor in an area where that meant you saw as much action or more than some soldiers, so I wasn’t worried about her. But the guys? No, I couldn’t see them damaged like that. I could never live with myself if they had to. I would do everything in my power to keep them innocent. I just had no idea how hard it was going to be to keep them from the fight. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
