Chapter 35 #3
“That’s not what I mean. I just—” He looked around at the others and slumped forward. “Never mind. I guess this is fine being told what to do. I can turn my brain off and just keep myself focused on the task.”
“You’ve only been here five days,” Steve said. “Another couple weeks of this you’ll be singing a different tune.” He dropped his brush and knelt next to Austin. “At least we’re not alone. Like it or not, you’re a part of our pack now. Werewolves gotta stick together.”
“A pack?”
“Never had one?”
Austin shook his head.
“It’s like a family, but closer. How long have you been a werewolf?”
“A couple weeks. Right when I turned, I came back home to the mountains. Didn’t sit well with that lifeguard friend I had, and we had a falling out. I needed to do this. Joining the military would make me stronger, and having more structure could help me forget some things.”
“You’ve seen some shit, haven’t you?” Steve asked, and the others gathered around.
Austin gritted his teeth and looked down at the drain on the floor. “Something like that.”
“You don’t have to talk about it. The pack’s got your back. Ain’t that right, boys?”
“Yes sir,” the other two barked in unison.
Austin went stiff as the three wrapped him in a group hug, their tails wagging. Eventually he closed his eyes, a slight, contented smile replacing his normal rigidity, his arms now resting on the backs of his new friends.
Those names…
I remembered seeing those names etched on his dogtags.
Even though it hadn’t happened yet, I knew what was coming.
Now that I could put faces to the names, my heart broke at seeing just how eager they were to bring Austin into their little family.
This was the moment he’d felt like he belonged somewhere, but even that would be taken away.
All that time I spent resenting him, thinking he was a cold, heartless asshole. I never wanted to know what he went through because I didn’t care. I had my own problems to deal with, and I wanted him to support me.
The scenes played out like the sad montage to a coming tragedy.
The four became inseparable, and eventually did get to do something more than basic training or cleaning buildings.
Now they sat in oversized seats of a civilian jumbo jet, the other three excitedly looking out the window like dogs, their tails wagging and ears perked.
There were other military personnel in the surrounding seats, many watching movies or listening to music, but Austin remained serious, his nose buried in a yellow German for Dummies book.
Over the intercom, the pilot mentioned the weather in Saarbrücken, and Austin soon joined the others in looking out the window.
“You gonna order for us at restaurants when we’re allowed off base, Austin?” Randall asked, shoving the larger werewolf’s arm.
“Someone’s gotta learn the language. You guys are way too dumb.”
“Guilty,” Steve said. “Never thought I’d get to go to another country. I’m gonna eat so many sausages.”
Blake grabbed the straps of his backpack and pulled it into his lap. “Glad they sent us together. I thought for sure they were going to split us up this time.”
“All right boys,” Steve belted out. “When we land, let’s take it all in. Who knows when they’ll let us do this again.”
Thunder crashed as the scene shifted quickly, four of the werewolves huddled in a tent as hail pelted the trees and ground around them.
“Welcome back to the front range,” Randall shouted, joining the others in keeping the tent upright. “It’s like war, but the weather edition.”
“If the hail gets any bigger, it’s gonna rip through,” Austin shouted.
With that said, a larger hailstone tore into the top of the tent, hitting Austin in the head.
The three of them shielded the larger werewolf, covering their own heads while the ice pelted their backs.
The storm only lasted for another five minutes before the wind and rain died, the only sounds remaining were groans from the injured werewolves as they emerged from their tattered tent.
“Well, that was fun,” Randall said, soaking wet and breathing in deep. “I love the smell after all hell breaks loose.”
“Didn’t anyone catch the weather report?” Austin asked, rubbing his head.
“Oops. Knew I forgot something,” Blake said, shuffling around his backpack. “Left the weather radio back in the barracks.”
Austin slapped the back of Blake’s head.
“Hey! At least we brought the tent this time.”
“Should’ve just bivouacked for all the good this did,” Austin said, picking through ripped-up nylon and bent, flimsy metal rods.
Randall knelt next to Austin, looking for his bag. “You said you used to live in the woods. How did you deal with the storms?”
“You don’t get storms like this at higher elevations. Just gotta worry about the blizzards burying you in the winter.”
“We should take a trip to the mountains and spend a week in the real forest.”
“No!” Austin shouted loud enough for the others to snap their heads toward him. “No,” he repeated, softer. “We—we can’t go in those woods.”
The other three nodded, not pressing Austin any further. They seemed to understand how to handle his fragile mental state. Instead of arguing, they went along with it.
“If you say we shouldn’t, then we won’t,” Steve said.
Austin’s ears fell to the sides of his head. “Bad stuff happened out there when I was half-turn. The day I left the forest, I didn’t stop running until I got through some of the most fucked-up demonic shit I’d ever seen. I lost a good friend that day, and I don’t wanna lose you guys.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Blake said softly. “You’re stuck with us.”
The scene darkened, and the smell of chemicals burned my nose as Austin sat alone on the floor in a concrete room, his fur falling out in clumps only to regrow. He shook violently, occasionally choking on bloody vomit he spat onto the floor.
Several humans wearing protective masks and yellow hazmat suits filed into the room, one holding a rapidly clicking Geiger counter.
“Can I please go back to my pack?” Austin asked, his voice weak. “It’s been almost a month.”
“This is the last test, Austin,” one of the men said, his voice muffled. “Once the levels go down, you can leave quarantine.”
“When’s that gonna be?”
“Another couple days,” the man said. “You’re doing good. You’re a part of something really important that’s gonna save a lot of lives.”
“No one will tell me what’s going on.”
“That’s because we can’t. We’ll check up on you in three days.”
The scene faded until it was just Austin sitting on the lower bunk of a bed, rocking back and forth. There was no one else in the barracks and it was midday. The door opened, and Austin jumped to attention, his tail wagging slightly before falling limp as a man in uniform entered.
“You should be sleeping. We’re going to need you rested up for some more tests.”
“More? I thought that was it.” He looked at the door. “Where are the others?”
“In isolation.”
“Why do we have to do this? I don’t understand.”
“You’re not privy to those answers,” the man snapped. Every human in these visions seemed out of focus, and sometimes they were featureless shadows like this guy. “You’re to report to sector R by twenty-one hundred.”
Austin swallowed hard before squeaking out a, “Yes, sir.” When the man disappeared, the werewolf ran to the bathroom before vomiting into the sink.
“I can’t do that again. I won’t do that again,” he whispered to himself, his eyes wide and shaky. “I gotta find my pack.”
Day quickly turned to night, and Austin dashed from wall-to-wall, staying out of sight as he moved to an area guarded by two shades in fatigues holding M4s.
He took in several rapid, shaky breaths before sneaking by, leaping high over a wall packed with curled razor wire, then disappeared on the other side.
I phased through and followed until he leaned up against the side of a large building, careful to stay out of sight as two men in yellow suits exited, one holding something that reflected a bit of the blue halogen lighting surrounding the yard.
They didn’t say anything, and one of the men pushed up his mask, appearing to stare at the things in his hand. As with the other humans, his face lacked any features as he dropped what he held into a nearby trash can.
“That was fucked up,” he said, turning away.
The other man pointed to the discarded mask. “We need to get to decontamination.”
The tone was somber as they slowly walked out of sight. After a few minutes, Austin dashed over to the garbage can and slowly pulled the tangled chains from the bin. The all-too-familiar thousand yard stare returned as he dropped his arms, still clutching the discarded dog tags.
He let out a worried whine and ran to the building the men emerged from, trying desperately to pull open the door, but it was locked and solid. Upon hearing commotion return to the yard, he disappeared, leaping over the wall.
The scene turned to a black room with Austin standing alone, staring at the dogtags in his hand.
He didn’t cry, move, or blink. It was almost as though time had frozen for him.
I grabbed a tuft of fur on my chest, squeezing as I slowly approached.
His dark orange eyes faded to blue as I stood in front of him, and his ears folded back.
“Austin?”
He didn’t respond.
“Please talk to me.”
“You gotta tell me what to do,” he said in the robotic tone I’d become accustomed to over the last week. “Tell me what to do. Please.”
“No,” I choked out. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, a long sword-like blade appeared in my hand. I held it up, and that’s when the tears began to soak his face.
“What is this?”
“I can’t do it myself. Everything goes back to the way it was,” he whispered. “Maybe it’ll work if you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Kill me.”
I stepped back, the blade falling with a metallic clank to the black floor as I lost what composure I had. My stomach turned as I tried to find any sign of the Austin I’d seen when he was with his pack, but there was no emotion, just tears filling empty, blue eyes.
“I won’t.”
“Please,” he repeated, this time his voice went from monotone to bursting with anguish. “It hurts so much to live. You can make it stop.”
I fell into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and crying into the thicker fur on his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“Why am I still here?” he asked. I remembered him saying that as a limping little teenage boy sitting under the oak tree. How many times had he asked himself that while all alone?
“So we could have this moment.” I pulled back just as his eyes faded to their usual orange. “So you could find a family.”
“No!” he shouted. “Don’t say that. You’ll all die, just like them.” He gripped my upper arms, his claws sinking into my flesh. “You have to hate me!”
“I only hated you because that’s what I thought you wanted! I know you don’t want that! You never wanted anyone to hate you.”
He let out the saddest whine as he let go and dropped to his knees.
“Don’t hate me anymore,” he cried out as he fell onto his hands, tears steadily dripping onto the floor. “I don’t wanna be alone.”
Trying to hold onto what emotional strength I still had, I knelt in front of him, pushing his heavy upper body from the floor.
“I can’t make promises about the future. I can’t say everyone will be around forever, but right now,” I pulled him into a firm embrace, “you’re safe in my arms. I swear.”
He looked up and locked eyes with me.
“When I was really little, my mom used to sing this song—I can’t remember it, but the lyrics promised I’d be safe in her arms.”
His words brought back a memory I’d forgotten until now, but I no longer believed any of this was coincidence. A week after Dad’s funeral, I’d heard the song he mentioned, and I remembered the lyrics like they were sung to me yesterday.
My voice cracked and trembled as I struggled to sing while stroking the back of his neck. I sang until I got to the last part of the chorus. “… you will be safe in my arms.”
We sat like that for several minutes in almost deafening silence.
“I’ll never hate you, Austin. Don’t ever think about dying again because our family wouldn’t be complete without you.”
His tears stopped, and he pulled back with a smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered, before the image shattered into millions of pieces, giving way to blue sky and rolling, green hills.
Austin sat under a laurel oak tree with his back turned to me, but he was wearing something that made me laugh and cry at the same time.
As my heavy footsteps fell beside him, he turned and grinned before scrambling to his feet.
“How did you get that Pawlibear costume?”
“I learned it from when I was in my blue box. You gotta want something bad enough, and it’ll happen.”
“And this is what you wanted?”
He pulled me into a hug, and everything around us turned a blinding white.
“No. I just wanted to see you smile again.”