The story so far:
“You know how to use one of these babies?” Treize snarled as he handed me my very own shotgun.
“Where’s my M-16?” I said, holding the single barrel shotgun up to my shoulder, testing the sight.
“Sweetheart, that’s a Winchester SX3, fastest shotgun in the world. And, it’s perfect for a snot-nosed little **** like you.” He grinned.
“It’s not even double barreled,” I muttered at the grinning vets around me. All eager to face what could only be their final battle. My only battle. It had to feel good for them, at least they’d go out fighting, not strapped to a hospital bed. Treize slapped me on the back.
“Sir, yes, sir,” came the resounding reply. It was dark, so I felt comfortable rolling my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder, as Treize mapped out his plan, how I’d gone from musing over a spooky old-timer in a black hat to werewolf hunting with a band of Vietnam Vets in a single night.
“Selection and maintenance of the aim!” Treize smacked the hood of my red Vet with his open palm. God, I wanted to hit him. He continued, “The aim, maggots, is to kill these ugly, hairy, short-dicked, drool hounds before they kill us. Did you hear me?” Treize screamed into the night, no doubt giving every one of the drool hounds a fix on us. The plan amounted to no more than wandering the streets, keeping an eye out for trouble, and shooting if we spotted any.
We ‘sir-yes-sired’ into the night, forming two tight four-man units with eyes in all directions. The streets were quiet, but the howls were closing in. It was hard to tell how many there were. Maybe ten, maybe a hundred. I had no confidence in Treize’s plan and I suddenly regretted not jumping in my Z06 and using all five hundred and five horses to get out of Dodge. A snarl from a side street raised the hair on my arms. I fired with out even looking. Did silence confirm a kill? My buddies were straight faced and focused, no high fives, just a slight nod from the General. I started to feel a little better. A few more shots rang out as we waltzed down the deserted street, looking like two living Chinese throwing stars breathing fire power out of our metal points. The howling was getting louder, there were definitely more than ten snarling beasts lurking in the darkness around us.
A wet growl above me made me drop to my knees. A dark shape, barely silhouetted against the night sky, flew over my head. I fired into the air but missed. I heard the screams before I turned around. Shots pounded the space around me. I looked to see one of the General’s buddies eviscerated, guts, blood, bile, leaking all over the street. The beast lunged at me and I fell backward. It’s sharp yellow teeth dripped with saliva as it snarled its last before five or six shots took it down. I looked down at my arm. I was bleeding from a bad gash. I hadn’t even felt the scratch. God that howling was maddening. It didn’t stop. I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my arm. I would have felt like Rambo except for the shotgun.
We came to the end of the street, to the River City Bank, an imposing building with wide steps leading up to a column flanked front entrance. Something, someone stood at the top of the stairs. I lowered my gun, the men around me did too.
“Caroline?” I said. She growled.