Ainge's Changes, Part 19
Imported from SF2 with no description.
The deafening sound of gunshots rang in Tommy's ears as his eyes snapped open, breathing quickly, laying on the bedspread that had been drenched with sweat overnight.
As his still swirling mind struggled to catch up to reality, he hauled himself to a sitting position, realizing then that he had returned to human form. He glanced at the alarm clock on beside his bed - 7:13 AM. By then it finally dawned on him that he had dreamt the whole encounter with Ryan from the night before. He heaved a sigh of relief. The night was over, and he was still alive.
He quickly threw on his shirt again, slipped on his shoes without socks, and left the hotel room. After so many hours of darkness, the rising sun nearly blinded him, but it felt so nice for both him and the wolf to be out in the fresh air again. He walked on over to the neighboring room, knocking on the door.
"Mom? Dad?" He asked. "You guys up yet?"
Moments later, the door opened, and Tommy found himself scooped up in his mother's arms.
"Oh, Thomas," she said, obviously fighting back the tears, "Thank God you're safe."
When his mother was finally willing to let him go, Tommy gave his father a hug as well. "Looks like we made it," he said.
The family quickly checked out of the motel, swinging by a nearby coffee shop for some well-earned breakfast before heading for home. Tommy never mentioned his nightmare to his parents; he didn't want them worrying any more than they had to about the danger they were in going forward. And he certainly wasn't ready to talk to them about the acts they were performing in the dream.
"So what happens now?" Tommy asked as their car made its way down the familiar city streets. "It's not like things are going to be any better than they were before if Linus is still living across from us."
"We'll stop over at Mr. Grey's house before we go home," Mr. Ainge explained. "We only stayed at the motel last night because we didn't have time to make a long-term plan. He'll probably figure something out so we don't have to do this sort of thing once a month."
"Maybe they'll start having those gatherings every full moon instead of every three," Mrs. Ainge suggested.
"That's not really the problem," Mr. Ainge replied. "I think the worry is what everyone's going to do the rest of the month when there isn't a pressing need to isolate yourself from everyone. Staying away from people is easy when you only do it periodically, but these folks have jobs and school they need to go to. We can't just cut ourselves off from the rest of the world."
"Maybe we can talk to Linus himself," Tommy said. "Promise we won't hurt anyone if he promises not to hurt us."
"If it were that easy, I don't think the Paladins would still be around."
The car turned the corner to the family's street.
"Thomas, I think it goes without saying," Mr. Ainge began, "But your interactions with Ryan end now. If you see him at school, ignore him. If he says anything to you, be polite but don't let your guard down. This is turning into a bit of a powder keg, and if we're not careful this whole situation could blow up."
Tommy chuckled. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Dad. I don't really have a reason to talk to Ryan anymore."
"Good. I just want to make sure you underst-.... What the hell??"
As the car continued down the road, a swarm of police cars with their lights ablaze came into view, all parked along the curb in front of one of the houses on the street. The house they had all descended upon was surrounded by yellow tape, and within that perimeter was a throng of officers, both in uniform and out, busily combing the area. Tommy saw the scene and immediately went pale.
This was Justin's house.
"Dad, stop the car," Tommy ordered.
"Thomas, I don't think you should-"
"Stop the car!!"
Mr. Ainge parked the car in front of the police cruisers, and Tommy almost didn't wait for the car to stop before he opened the door and jumped out. He dashed to the site of all the commotion, immediately fearing the worst. Several other people in the neighborhood were crowded around the tape as well, hoping to catch some glimpse of what had caused such a response from police in what should be a rather quiet part of town.
When he got there, the discussions from the other onlookers was somber and quiet.
"Do they have any idea who did it?" One man asked.
"Not as far as I know," another person replied. "But they probably don't want to say anything until they've gathered all of the evidence in the house."
"What evidence? They've been searching the house for hours, and they haven't taken anything out except for the body."
Tommy's head reflexively turned at the man who said that. "Body??"
The neighborhood man, one who Tommy knew of but never learned his name, turned around to look at Tommy. "Oh, I'm so sorry, kid. He must've been a friend of yours."
"What? What's going on??"
"Looks like someone broke into the house late last night," the man said. "Nobody knows who it is or why they did it, but for some reason they were coming after the dad and his son. Shot 'em both."
Tommy's legs nearly collapsed when he heard that.
The onlooker shook his head. "The dad's in the hospital. Shot in the chest and the arm. Kid took it right in the heart. Looks like the father's gonna make it, but the kid..."
That was finally enough to send Tommy crashing to his knees. He could feel the blood rushing out of his brain, making it a struggle to think, to hold himself up, even to breathe. He stared blankly towards the house. This couldn't be true. It just couldn't. There's no way that Justin could be dead. "No..." he whispered. But as the realization began to work its way through his mind, all of the walls that were holding him together began to crumble. Then, like he had been saving it up for a week, he screamed at the top of his lungs. "NOOOOOO!!"
It was a few seconds later when Tommy's parents had finally caught up to their son. And by then, it was painfully obvious what had happened. All they could do was crouch beside their son, doing what they could to console him. Tommy's father patted his back softly, lending what little support he could. "I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry."
Thomas kneeled there in front of Justin's house, as the tears continued to flow. This wasn't just a friend and a classmate that he was losing, someone he'd grown up with since he was little. It was also a member of his pack, the one who'd done the most to guide him into his new life as a werewolf. The thought of losing such an important person in his life was especially devastating. And if that weren't enough, the pain and disbelief raging through his mind was blanketed by a crushing wave of guilt. Tommy knew he was the one responsible for setting former friend off, likely causing Ryan to tell his father about the pack if he didn't know already. Maybe if he hadn't waited so long, or been so blunt about the whole situation when talking to Ryan, this never would have happened.
That's when Tommy felt it. Amidst the sickening grief he felt, he began to sense a presence, as if by some unknown power of perception, that made his hair stand on end. Something was wrong. Something doesn't belong here. He looked at the crowd of officers still investigating the crime scene, but after a few seconds of inspection he realized that this invasive presence wasn't among them. Still hunched on the ground, he turned his head back - and about a quarter-mile down the road, halfway between Justin's house and his own, stood Ryan Colton. Observing the scene while not getting too close, maybe curious himself to see what all the commotion was about, but perhaps admiring a job well done.
The instant that Tommy recognized the other boy, his nostrils flared. All of the anguish and dread he had been feeling in those preceding moments, plus the visions of the nightmare he had just experienced, were now themselves transforming into rage. His vision went red once again, as he sprinted to Ryan with almost unnatural speed. He barely heard his father telling him to stop, to come back, to get away from the other boy - all his mind could think of was exacting some form of revenge for Justin's death. When Ryan saw that Tommy was headed straight at him, he did his best to turn around and run away, but he barely made it 20 yards down the road before Tommy had tackled him onto the rough asphalt of the street, ready to unleash a fury he never felt in his life.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!" Tommy roared, punctuating the last word with a right-handed punch squarely aimed at Ryan's nose.
He didn't have very long to inflict much damage to Ryan, but he certainly made use of his time. The wolf inside of him was enraged, seeking vengeance for a fallen packmate, and even though it didn't have the power to transform him after being in wolf form all night, it still fueled the ferocity with which Tommy attacked his former friend. He had Ryan pinned down, straddling his midsection, sitting atop of him to keep the younger boy from getting away. Ryan finally managed to put his arms in front of his face to shield himself after a few punches to the mouth, which frustrated Tommy's attacks somewhat. But rather than continue with closed fists, Tommy subconsciously started attacking Ryan's arms with open hands and curled fingers, raking his fingernails against Ryan's skin. All the while, Tommy continued to snarl in anger. "You fucking killed him! Fucking Paladin piece of shit! You'll fucking pay for this!" By the time Tommy's father finally had a chance to grab his son by the shoulders and wrestle him away from Ryan, the younger boy's arms were scratched up enough to send streaks of blood down his forearms and to his elbows.
"That's enough!" Tommy's father yelled, as he hooked his arms under Tommy's shoulders and wrenched him away. "Stop it! Get off of him!"
The two boys were finally separated. Ryan lay in the street, shrieking in pain. Soon enough, those screams had caused Ryan's father to emerge from their house. Upon seeing his son, his own fatherly instincts kicked in and he scurried to Ryan's side. "Ryan!!" he shouted, panic and urgency in his voice. "Oh my God, Ryan, are you all right?"
Ryan could barely speak through the swamp of tears, blood, and loose teeth in his mouth. "Daddy..."
"It's OK, Ryan, I'm right here." Linus took his son's head into his lap, stroking his forehead. "Let's get you inside so I can take a look at you, OK?" Linus then directed his gaze at Tommy, and it was a look of pain and anger. "What did you do to my son??"
The reasonable side of Tommy's mind finally came out of hibernation. As his rage subsided, he looked at the boy sitting up in his father's arms, beaten and bloodied, crying as loudly as a boy could. When he saw the scratches on Ryan's arms, a queasy feeling settled in his stomach.
Oh no.
Before he had any chance to react to the ramifications of what he'd just done, he felt an immense pressure on the back of his neck and his shoulder. His father had grabbed him there, and yanked him away from the fight, marching him to their own house. "You get inside right now, young man," Mr. Ainge hissed, dragging him the whole way to their front doorstep.
Tommy's heart was pounding. He could barely breathe. A couple of times he even stumbled to the ground as his father pulled him roughly to the house, to which his father grabbed him by the collar to pull him back up and continue onwards. He knew he'd blown it, big time. He knew he was in big trouble. He knew he'd just put his family in a lot more danger than they were in already. He knew Ryan was likely infected now. All these thoughts tornadoed through his mind, almost making him want to vomit. When they finally reached home, Tommy was marched into the living room and nearly thrown into the sofa.
"You sit there and don't move a muscle, you hear me??" Mr. Ainge commanded.
Tommy replied with a soft, apologetic "Yes, sir."
His father walked back to the door and left, but not before Tommy heard him mutter under his breath, "Getting really tired of dealing with this shit." The door slammed, and Tommy sat alone in the living room.
With nobody around to hear him, Tommy's crying began anew. It was soft, low, and it felt like it would never end.