✧ 50 ✧
Aleksei Shenderkov."
That foreign name reverberated in Billy and Greg's ears like a shockwave. However, their reaction differed. Billy was surprised, a little disappointed even, while Greg was about to explode.
After all these years composing himself, the madness of the P virus was finally creeping up on Greg.
"Did he just mention a Russian name?" Greg asked.
That name wasn't just hidden information or a white lie by Billy. It was treason.
Greg's rage intensified as he waited for an answer from Billy.
His breathing grew louder and more erratic.
The fat between his folds expanded, and excessive saliva dripped from between his teeth like a mad dog.
Bloodshot eyes bulged as they drilled a hole at the side of Billy's head, waiting for him to face him.
Billy was dumbfounded, lost in his own wild thoughts.
He had sensed that the boy was lying about his name from the very beginning by catching his elevated heartbeat.
Elliot, or whatever his name, lied about his name for a reason.
Billy just didn't expect it to be this; to be the child of a Russian scientist.
Could this kid be related to what happened to the town? Maybe his resemblance to Ned was not a coincidence.
Of course! Billy's eyes widened as he recalled the differences between this sick boy and all the other humans who stumbled upon this town. The smell. The blood. The illness. And that face! Everything started to make sense now.
Billy took one last look at the feverish kid lying sick and helpless on that couch. So innocent and small, yet there was something about him. A strange feeling bubbled in Billy's stomach that could not be solved.
He knew; that none of it was a coincidence. This kid was meant to be here.
The Russians were back at it again, playing a dangerous game. A new experiment.
Billy was about to turn to Greg and tell him about these revelations when he heard disturbing sounds coming from his direction. Hot, heaving breaths fanned Billy's shoulder. Then a hand drilled a strong grip on his thigh and forced him to look.
Billy prayed that Greg was still in control. He knew how much Greg hated the Russians. Then Billy looked. He saw his friend and all hopes shattered.
Greg was beyond angry—he was furious!
Billy was taken aback. His once calm dear old friend was almost unrecognizable. Billy knew that had to do something before Greg's transformation was completed—before he rips the flesh off of the kid and stips him down to bones.
Their eyes locked. It was too late. A pair of dark holes stared back at him.
Greg was already shifting. The gurgling fury in his throat signaled the arrival of something monstrous. Greg was becoming... Pig.
"He's Russian?" Greg growled, yanking the IV out of Ilya's vein. "You back-stabbing son of a bitch!"
"Ow!" Ilya cried, clutching his bleeding arm.
Billy raised his hands. "Now, now, Greg. I swear I didn't know."
"You befriended a Russian!"
Greg towered over them, his deformed hands clenched into fists, muscles bulging, and tusks doubled in length. His face darkened; the Greg they knew had vanished, leaving behind a hulking beast.
"We don't even know if he's Russian for sure," Billy said, rising cautiously, sweat glistening on his brow. "It's a common name."
In the chaos, Ilya mumbled, "I'm not Russian."
Billy tried to shut him up, but the words were already in the air.
"Bullshit!"
Greg's fury only escalated. He broke the coffee table with a single fist, shattering the glass across the room.
Ilya gasped and covered his face.
Billy stood between them to protect Ilya from Greg, and Greg from himself.
The rage swelled in Greg's lungs, amplifying his breath into terrifying huffs.
Ilya scrambled away, his eyes darting between the two monstrous figures arguing with voices that echoed like growls in the depths of the earth. The air was thick with wrath, a prelude to a deadly clash.
Billy's primal instincts surfaced, adrenaline coursing through him, urging his wolf form to emerge. He growled when Greg endangered the young human.
The situation had escalated into a battle.
"And the worst part is you made me treat him," Greg roared, pointing at Ilya. "You made me help a filthy Russian?"
Greg's elongated middle finger passed Billy's form and grazed Ilya's face.
Ilya hissed and covered his cheek. One eye was open, watching in fear.
Ilya felt trapped in a sick body unwilling to help him escape the looming horrors. If only he could climb out of this couch, but his limbs were weakened by the infection. His heart raced, blood pumping feverishly through his veins.
"Greg," Billy spoke with a warning tone as he pushed Greg's hand away. "Watch it."
"No, Billy," Greg's voice was dark and otherworldly, echoing with the weight of a thousand monsters. "It's you who needs to watch it."
Even the mighty werewolf felt a chill and took a step back. The floor trembled beneath them.
Greg's tusks protruded as his face grew more beastly, his eyes turning into dark voids. His wild form continued to swell until his head struck the chandelier.
Greg was far gone. A pig was born.
"Goddamnit, Greg," Billy whispered to himself.
The bones under Billy's skin snapped and moved, making space for his wolf form to take over.
His neck cracked with a chilling sound and his throat swelled with muscles.
Black claws dug out of his fingernails, hair increased along his tanned complexion, and his chest puffed up with the strength of a werewolf.
The apartment seemed to shrink in the presence of two mighty beasts.
Pig smashed his fist onto Billy's face, knocking him over. He lunged for Ilya, but Billy intervened. With a mighty roar, he tackled the great Pig to the ground then quickly got back up on two hind legs.
Pig squealed as he jumped to his feet, spitting all his angry breaths onto Billy's face.
"The Russians did this to us! They turned us into hideous creatures, and you're sheltering one of them? TRAITOR!"
Ilya's eyes wavered back and forth. His feverish brain registered the werewolf, but what was that other creature?
"Ogor," Ilya whispered.
He saw Greg as this terrifying monster from his childhood nightmares.
"Ogor!" he screamed, pointing at Greg.
"What did he just... CALL... ME?" Pig's voice gargled, its depth rattling Billy and Ilya's bones.
"Ogo-"
Billy silenced the boy with his hand, pulling him protectively out of the couch, away from Pig.
"AHHH!" Pig's bones cracked as his body expanded, veins pulsing visibly under his skin. "You're dead. You're so dead!"
Pig's rampage began, his movements wild and uncontrolled. Destruction was his only intent; bashing, slamming, and trampling everything in his way. Every step threatened to bring the whole floor down.
Billy watched in shock as his friend lost his mind. Amid Pig's destruction, Billy felt butterfly touches on his hand. It was Ilya trying to remove it from his mouth.
Billy tried to calm Ilya before removing his hand.
"Shhh, not another word."
Ilya stopped struggling and stared at Billy with wide fearful eyes.
To not scare the kid, Billy changed his face back to human. He was bleeding from his nose as a result of Pig's punch.
"We need to leave. Now," Billy urged. "I can't fight him like this."
Billy turned to open the window, only to be grabbed by Pig's massive hand and yanked back.
"Where're you going? I'm not done with you yet..." Pig dropped Billy and turned his attention to Ilya. "Both of you."
Billy landed on the floor with a huff. Once he lifted his head, he saw Pig's hand reach for Ilya. Billy's fury ignited. His full werewolf form emerged, chest heaving with outrage, his breath hot and powerful.
"Roooooar!"
Pig turned, his eyes void of humanity. With a deafening squeal, the battleground was set for a clash of beasts.