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PART 5

I stepped out of the bar, the heady feeling of the last few hours draining out of me like cheap beer.

Outside, the waxing moon was almost full and it shone through the clouds, giving them frosted silver linings. Fog had rolled in from the river in the still air, and it glowed silver too. It was getting pretty thick, to the point that it was making visibility nigh-impossible more than twenty feet or so in front of me. It hugged the ground and rose to just above eye-level. It was kind of creepy, which served to dampen the mood.

My rust-bucket AMC was parked in a public lot on the other side of a park a few blocks away. Recent weeks had seen a flurry of homophobic vandalism outside of Hammer's and some of the other clubs and bars that catered to the LGBT crowd. The car might have been a lemon, but it was my lemon, and I didn't want my insurance rates to go up because someone else had issues with their latent homosexuality.

There hadn't been any reported harassment so far, though more than one of my friends had taken a self-defense course or two, or carried pepper-spray just in case. As for me, I had a few years of tae kwon do and some judo under my belt, but I hadn't practiced in a few months and I was undoubtedly rusty. I wasn't too bad, but I'd never really taken it as seriously as I could have. Maybe I would see about rectifying that.

The thought sobered me up somewhat. I didn't usually feel unsafe around here; small-town Oregon was pretty gay-friendly and secure, for the most part. However, fatigue, combined with a bit of alcohol, the fog, and some unpleasant thoughts made me feel more than a little paranoid. The giddy feeling of a prospective date with Rob was gone.

I cut through the municipal park that intersected my route; it wasn't huge, but it had plenty of playground equipment for the kids, a bike path that stretched farther along the riverfront, lots of manicured hedges, and trees for shade during the warmer months. Not that I could see most of it right then. It was dark, and the fog blanketed the place like...well...a blanket. Probably flannel. I hated flannel.

I followed the bike trail around, weaving a bit due to its serpentine course, past the swings, and beyond several clusters of trees. I came abreast of a hedge that ran along my left-hand side, and stopped cold, a vicious snarl echoing just ahead of me. It was a dog, a big one by the sound of it, and it wasn't happy. Shit. Two from the fog to my right and a couple more behind followed suit. Double-shit. The growls and the hedge penned me in. I was surrounded.

I reached into my jeans and grabbed my pocketknife, which was small comfort -- since it was a small knife -- but it was sturdy and sharp, and anything was better than nothing. I slid the blade out and locked it in place with a practiced motion, flipping it so it was held with the edge projecting from the outside of my left fist, which was shaking a little.

I set my back against the hedge and set my feet as the first dog, dark and sleek, but with a splotch of incongruous white over the right side of its head, materialized from my left; it was the one I'd heard ahead of me. It was in attack-mode, with its ears flat and fangs bared. It stalked closer, and I got a better look. Not a dog; a wolf. And it was friggin' huge. What the hell were wolves doing attacking people in the middle of downtown?

From the front and right side came four more. Three big ones -- wolves -- and a smaller one -- a coyote? -- fanning out to trap me between their semicircle and the hedge. They were nearly as large as the first one, and looked just as vicious. I could try climbing over the wall behind me, but they would likely get over it much faster, and I had no chance to defend myself if I got tangled up in the greenery, especially with my back to them.

My heart began to race and I broke out in a cold sweat as I realized just how screwed I was. This smelled like an ambush, and I was the quarry. I tried to think, to consider how I could get out of this, but all I could come up with was Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh... Which was less than helpful.

There was a moment of stillness. My breathing was heavy and my body was coursing with adrenaline, muscles primed to flee or fight, senses sharpened. I saw the big one to my left tense as it prepared to leap. Oh god...

I was terrified, but I took a steadying breath and let my body react. I pulled forward and pivoted as it jumped, simultaneously slashing with my knife. I felt the graze of teeth and fur against my leg from the smaller wolf on the right, whose unseen attempt to hamstring me missed, but only barely. Blood sprayed when my blade connected with the biggest animal's face, digging a long and messy gash across its eye. It yelped in pain as its hundred and ninety-five pounds of momentum slammed into the canid now behind my back, just barely missing me as I dodged.

The big one staggered as it landed, the wolf beneath it pinned under its bulk.

I made a break for it through the opening the biggest one had made, my heart struggling to beat its way out of my chest, and I actually managed to sprint about twenty feet before I was sent sprawling, a big furry mass crashing into my back and knocking the wind from my lungs.

I watched the scene in slow motion, as if I were outside my own body. It seemed to take forever for the other wolves to dash forward as I rolled over and sent the one above me flying away with a kick. I tried to scramble to my feet but I felt encased in mud, my limbs heavy and slow. I could count the strings of slaver flying as they rushed me, fully expecting those jaws to close around my throat in order to tear it out.

What I didn't expect was the pale blur that bowled them both over from out of nowhere. A massive white canine, bigger than even the one with the splotch, slid to a stop between me and the other predators, its growl deep enough to make my bones vibrate. It faced them down, fur bristling, making it look even larger, and it was already the size of a small horse.

I'd never been so glad to see the posterior bits of a quadruped in my life, and I wasn't about to question it.

I had regained my feet at that point, and I backed up to give the wolf -- and myself -- some space. Savior though it, or rather, he was, he was still a damned big wolf, and I didn't want to get chomped on accident. Or on purpose, for that matter.

Those four misbegotten bastards spread out as they tried to circle my new friend, ears flattened and hatred dancing in their eyes. And ignoring me, thankfully; the white wolf was the bigger threat. Those pale ears flicked to follow them as they paced, and he backed up to keep them from getting behind him. Only the small one looked reticent at all, which made sense considering the difference in size between them.

Nothing happened for a moment, but then I heard paws pounding turf, and fell out of the way just as the leader leaped out of the fog, missing me by inches. I was lucky it was blind on one side; otherwise I would've been toast. It skidded past me and turned, but I kicked it in the face, over the injured eye. It was a weak kick, thrown without conscious direction, but it still must've hurt like a sonovabitch because the thing howled in agony, its tail tucked in tightly between its legs. It wobbled weakly for a moment before collapsing bonelessly to the dirt. I gave it a quick but thorough knifing for good measure; I did not want that thing getting back up.

Meanwhile, the other four had fallen on the white one, and although he was much larger, they had the advantage of numbers. Dark smears marred the white coat, and the ruff on the left side of his face had a sizable gash, and most of his fur was matted with blood. He was latched onto one of them and was savaging it thoroughly, but he was taking a good beating in return. The one nearest me was trying to tear out his haunch, and blood was starting to pool in the dirt beneath them.

It was stupid of me to do it, but I didn't want that animal to die protecting me for god-only-knew what reason. So I vaulted forward, stabbing the nearest bloodthirsty cur in the side, the hilt hitting its ribcage with an audible thud. It released its grip on the big wolf and snapped at me, but I punched it in the face with my fist and stabbed it several more times in rapid succession. Its yelps faded behind it in the mist as it fled, leaving behind a crimson trail. Good riddance, bitch.

Now it was three against two, and amazingly, I was the only one left uninjured, though I was still soaked. My big white friend looked pretty damned hurt, but he had the smallest one, which I assumed was a coyote, pinned on the ground beneath him, and he was doing his best to worry the one in his jaws to pieces. The last wolf, a long smear of red down its side, was circling and trying to find an opening to attack.

God, this was dumb, but... "Hey, mutt!" The injured wolf ignored me. A quick glance to the ground revealed a baseball some kid had probably left behind, so I snatched it up and hurled it, aiming for the wolf's injured flank, but I could barely see it in the fog and the dark, and it hit its face with a hollow crack that was audible nearly twenty feet away. "Come get me, you son of a bitch!" That pissed it off but good; I just hoped this wasn't suicide. I'd had an idea, now let's just see if it worked.

I set my stance, albeit uneasily, watching the animal lope around the mauling of its pack-mates. I held steady, though by that point I was feeling sick to my stomach. I couldn't fight it head-to-head, but I needed to take it out; otherwise, it could attack someone else tonight, possibly me, when least expected.

I sure hoped I'd survive this...

The wolf accelerated to a sprint, and I braced myself. Its hindquarters bunched as it sprang for me, and it had me dead to rights...

...until I dropped to the ground and rolled just as it was fully airborne, revealing the chest-high concrete pylon behind me, which it careened into head-first.

That had to hurt.

I rolled to my feet, and watched it fall heavily to the ground, barely keeping its feet; it was stunned for the moment, and I jumped it before it could recover, giving a quick slice and a hard kick to the throat. My tae kwon do instructor would've eaten me alive had he seen it, but what it lacked in form it made up for in functionality. It staggered off into the night, bleeding profusely. If the concussion or the severed artery didn't kill it, it'd probably choke to death from a crushed windpipe.

A dozen or so feet away, my overlarge friend stood over his chew-toy, and it was baring its belly meekly. It was a bloody mess. The small female had backed off submissively, and the big wolf seemed to think that was enough, because he gave a cursory snarl, and he waited vigilantly as they both slunk away in injured defeat.

Blowing what had to be a derisive snort he turned my way. I tensed, adrenaline still leaving me on edge, but he merely looked at me intently, those ice-blue eyes drilling into mine in a way that the canvas in Mr. Whyte's office just couldn't capture.

I was panting hard, but my breath came up short as I made the connection, and it left me stunned. "Robert?" There's no way that could be right, but the wolf's ears flicked in clear recognition of the name, and the tail tucked between its knees as it whimpered faintly. The knife fell to the ground, my fingers numb and my legs turned to jelly.

What. The. Hell.

©Lycanthromancer

10/14/2010