Lycan War

Lycan War

words: 1218




         "There's been an attack."

         Lisa jerked around in the kitchen chair, terror brimming her eyes, "Are you sure?" she asked, knowing full well he was.

         "Yeah." Dave nodded, "They found him early this morning, out by Grandle's Clearing. Eldon's boy." Dave dropped his head and nearly whispered, "William." He willed himself to remain calm, fighting against tears and his trembling chest.

         "No! No, Dave! He's just a boy . . . a baby . . ." the last words were choked. Tears spilled down her crumpled face. Her chest heaved in great sobs. Dave made his way to her, and folded her in his arms, offering his silent reassurance. Resting his chin on her auburn hair, he closed his eyes. His mind reeled.

         It had been nearly two decades since the first sporadic cases appeared. A few weeks later another would pop up. The infection then spread quickly. Passed through bodily fluids, it was proving impossible to contain. Scientists fought to isolate the gene in vain. No cure could be found. There were no treatment options, no inoculations, no hope, just detention camps or execution.

         By the end of the first year it was labeled an epidemic. Six months later a pandemic. Global chaos ensued. Neighbors turned on neighbors, friends on friends. Families ripped apart. Major highways stood still, factories closed. Thriving metropolises became violent war zones. Once quiet streets were lined with burning broken bodies.

         Some blamed it on biological experiments. Others claimed aliens were at fault. Many considered it a simple evolutionary stage. Natural selection at its most extreme. No one could even agree what to call it. Was it a virus, a disease, a natural mutation . . . ? Too soon, it didn't matter. Humankind was facing possible extinction; thusly, just before the second year, the Lycan War was officially announced. Though, at this point, few cared. The war had already begun without a name.

         Agencies banded together pooling resources to form fortified cities. Daily blood and biological tests became run of the mill. Guerrilla groups and trained militia sought to eradicate those infected outside the walls. By year five, the numbers shifted. In year ten the Werepeople were all but destroyed. The cities grew cramped and frantic. Resources were dwindling. Testing was lax. Confidence breeds carelessness. In the twelfth year the cities fell.

         Dave and his wife spent two years running. Retreating further and further North into the wilderness, they diligently avoided others. Violence seemed to infect worse than the disease.

         Purely by luck had they met Mr. Eldon. Both Dave and he were hunting the same deer. Dave smiled in spite of himself. It had been such a chance meeting at an ideal time. Lisa was pregnant, ready to deliver any day. Winter had set in early and game was scarce. Dave and she had decided it worth the risk to go with Eldon. As they trekked up the mountainside to the hidden township, Dave and Eldon formed a natural bond; they became brothers in every sense but blood. Days turned into weeks, into months, into years; and, Eldon's little township, Haven, had become home.

         Lisa sank further into Dave's chest. Sobbing quieted into near whimpers, before returning to sobs. Dave stoked her hair, and pulled her tighter to him. His own tears followed.

         Eldon often joked that, "Haven's just one letter shy of heaven" and "E'd" find it one day. Dave agreed. Given an eternity, Thomas Kincaid and Norman Rockwell couldn't have come up with a more picturesque scene. The whole town was nestled in a crook of the mountain. One large stream flowed through the center breaking into smaller fingers at the southern end before disappearing below. Though the winters could be harsh it was more than made up for the following spring. Quaint little cabins dotted clearings, hither and yon. Children played tag and hide and seek along the carved dirt roads. Farmers carted their goods by mule and cart. Once a week everyone gathered at the Big Building for a town social. They bartered goods and services, made plans and addressed any issues or disputes, generally by noon everyone was enjoying a potluck picnic. Singing, dancing, puppet shows. . . life was better here than it had been before the surging war. And now, those wretched beasts would destroy it too.

         Opening his eyes, he gently pulled free of Lisa. He grabbed a chair and pulled it close to her. As he sat he took her hand. Lifting her tear ravaged face from the table, she looked at him; her eyes pleading "what now?"

         "Lisa, I love this town, this home we've eked out for ourselves; but, I love you and the kids more. They're coming. We can stay and fight, try to protect it or . . . leave. We survived for two years without this community. We could do it again." Dave paused trying to read the blank stare gazing back. He began again, "No one knows what's going on down there. It's been three years since the last report, I can't say for --"

         "I want to stay." Lisa broke in. "I don't want to run. I don't want to eke out again. This may be our home; but, it's the kids' world. They've rarely even seen
pictures of anywhere else. This is our home, Dave. This is our family. The Eldons, Mary, the Grandles . . . " her voice faded. "We can't leave them, Dave.” she said in a peculiar tone of pleading defiance. "We can't leave them to fight those demons alone."

         He smiled with pride. If any place was worth fighting to protect, it was Haven. He hugged her. While still embraced the town bell rang out. One . . . Two . . . town meeting? . . . Three.

         Lisa was half way up the stairs before Dave could will himself to move. The British are coming, the British are coming, Davey ol' boy. He almost laughed before rational thought kicked in. "You get the kids, I'll get . . . get supplies."he called. His mind was running in circles. They'd gone over this a thousand times. It should have been as routine as a fire drill back in school. Pre-war school. Grab the rabbits, grab the "in case" bags, blow the emergency whistle four times in case anyone failed to hear the bell, meet at the Sheldon's place. It seemed simple enough, but he was failing to act. The ages old comedy routine about the panic-stricken husband and pregnant wife came to mind. He would have actually laughed this time had a gunshot not cracked across the mountainside. Two more followed in the second after.

         "Hurry." he turned and called upstairs catching a shadow of movement outside the window. "Lisa, some --" he shouted just before the door flew open with a hardy crash. Dave gave a yelp of surprise and stood in stunned silence.

         In the doorway hulked an impossible creature of fangs and fur. One enormous hand still rested on the doorframe. Its thick long yellow claws arched viciously upward. One double-jointed foot of claws and knotted hair lunged forward. It stepped into the light. Its nose twitched as it cocked its head toward Dave with piercing slitted eyes. A floorboard creaked upstairs; the creature's ears peaked. Gelatinous drool hung from its grossly elongated jaw. It quickly flicked its fangs with its tongue, then lumbered forward toward Dave. Dave smiled, his own fangs showing, and clasped his friends' shoulder.

         "Gather the litter!" Dave howled upstairs, "Eldon's come to help. Let's go."