Ab Igne Ignem
Frantic breathing, the sound of a rapid heartbeat, staggering pain and a non-human laughter ringing in his ears. Fleeting images, woven tightly together in a nightmare or a memory, he didn't know. The pain… the agony of discovering what'd been done to him, somebody lulling him into what should have been a releasing slumber. But the images and the sensations followed him in here. He was not allowed to forget and rest. He was chased in this dimension as well. He awoke, face bathed in sweat, sat up in bed as panic filled his mind. It had been no dream. The numb pain told him that much.
"COOPER!"
He was too afraid to leave the bed, shaking with fear. They left the… things back there in the forest, didn't they? Then he remembered the attack made on the abandoned house where they'd sought refuge. They had followed them here, they had followed him.
"Sergeant Wells!" Cooper came stomping into the room, machinegun at the ready.
He wore the same stench of fear as Wells did. Apparently his lads hadn't gotten rid of the foul things while he'd sleeping.
"Are you all right, Sarge?" he asked, a little calmer-looking after checking the bedroom for intruders.
"I'm sorry, Coop. I panicked," Wells confessed. He slowly lay down on the bed again, his brain throbbing against his forehead. Cooper sat down by the side of the bed, kind eyes resting on the man on the bed. Wells was staring back with poorly hidden fear behind his stern exterior.
"You have every right to," he said calmly.
"What about those… things? Did you get any of them?" Wells asked, a tiny spark of hope in his gruff voice.
Cooper shook his head:
"Afraid not. Either they can dodge bullets with the speed of fuckin' Superman or else they're wearing body armour."
Wells dried a soaked forehead with the back of his shaky hand.
"I'm afraid I'm leaning towards your first guess at the moment. Those things aren't fucking human!" he coughed, a grimace flying over his face as he tried to hide what was obvious to both men. "One of those things bloody… raped me." The staggering confession came with a rattle and the Sergeant struggled to hold back the tears threatening to overwhelm him.
"Yeah, we figured as much…," Cooper sighed and ran trembling fingers through his hair.
"I promise you I'll chop the devil that did it into pieces!" he added, with passion.
But Sergeant Wells didn't answer. A new kind of look appeared on his face before he sat up in bed again, hands clasping his stomach. A muffled groan came out his throat as he buckled over; clearly in pain.
"Wells! What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" Cooper asked in alarm. The machinegun was carelessly tossed to the floor as he tried to pry the Sergeant down on his back again.
"Belly… hurts...," Wells moaned, squirming in Cooper's grip. "I don't know what's causing… OH FUCKIN' HELL!!" he added with a scream and his body arched helplessly against the forces working against it.
"WELLS! Let me have a look at your stomach!" Cooper ordered, but the Sergeant wasn't able to hear him any more. His face, throat and what were visible of skin down his half unbuttoned shirt was glistening in the faint light.
"ARGH… Like… knives...," Wells grunted, still not able to remove his arms from the spot where the pain was located.
"SPOON!!! Come up here, NOW you tosser!" Cooper yelled, figuring he wasn't able to examine Wells on his own. Spoon came charging up the stairs, same rush evident on his face as it had been on Cooper's minutes later.
"What's wrong with the Sarge, Coop?" he squealed as he looked down on the man squirming in discomfort on the bed.
"I don't know. I need you to hold his arms while I give his belly a look." Maybe those fucking beasts had hurt him more than what was already painfully obvious for the whole squad? Raped by a gang of fucking dogs. No wonder he'd been screaming in his sleep!
"Hold him down, Spoon!" Cooper barked, struggling to get a clear view to the Sergeant's torso due to his tossing about.
"I'M TRYING!!!" Spoon screamed in answer. Wells seemed beyond anyone's reach at the moment.
Finally he seemed to calm down a tad and Spoon was able to get a hold of his arms.
"Relax, Sarge, we're only trying to help you, mate!" he begged as Wells still was panting in unease. Cooper ripped open his shirt, disposing a seemingly unhurt stomach.
"Does it hurt when I touch you here, Sarge?" he asked, pushing down the spot of his abdomen that might indicate a ruptured appendix.
"It fuckin' hurts everywhere, Coop!" Wells replied faintly: "But I think it's pass…." A new fit seemed to hit Wells as he jerked free of Spoon's hold and curled into a ball again. "ARRGH! Here we... go AGAIN…!"
"Fuck it, Spoon I told you to hold him DOWN!" Cooper barked as the woman they'd met two hours earlier entered the room.
Chased by doglike creatures, they were starting to believe they were beyond rescue; then her car showed up from nowhere. Redemption. The Sarge had to be hauled screaming and kicking into the car, as he wouldn't leave Bruce behind. Bruce. Speared like a wild boar, not even left with a fighting chance.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked, face showing a weird mix of curiosity and anxiety as she moved closer to the bed.
"Don't know. Help Spoon hold him down, will you?" Once more Cooper tried to get a proper look on the Sergeant's stomach. Once again he found nothing wrong, on the outside. With a gesture he told the others to release Wells, who instantly curled back into a foetal position, face wrenched in agony.
"What do you think it is causing that?" Spoon whispered as the three of them were reduced to mere spectators watching Wells as he rode out the pain by himself.
"I don't know," Cooper replied with a whisper: "I only hope his not bleedin' internally. That won't leave him many hours…"
"Would any of you wankers… be so kind as to dig up some whisky for your old Sarge?" He spat sarcastically from the bed. It seemed like the Sergeant was feeling a little better again.
"You go and see if you can find some, Miss," Cooper ordered the young woman who gave him a snide look before she complied. Spoon followed after tossing a last look on Wells who was now arching himself up on his elbows.
"What the hell was that, Sarge?" Cooper asked as he sat down by the bedside again.
"Don't ask me, mate" Wells replied wearily.
"Do you remember if you were hit in the stomach when they were attacking you?"
He shook his head with faint movements.
"You're absolutely sure?" Cooper nagged, still casting worried glances on the disposed abdomen of Wells.
"I'd think I'd remember that much, Coop." Wells mumbled. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wallpaper on the opposite wall.
"God, I remembered what else they did to me, didn't I?!" he slumped down on his back again, obviously fighting with the emotions raging inside him. He was tired, he was hurting and he didn't know why. Why was his stomach aching?
The woman with the pouting lips and the curly hair returned with the whisky a moment later, and Wells put the bottle greedily to his lips. Maybe he would be able to dull the pain and even better; the memories...
*-*
He was feeling bloody fantastic! When his belly didn't twist and turn as if it was about to explode that was. Neither Cooper nor Megan, as the nice young lady was called, seemed to be any closer to finding out what was the matter with him than he was, but he didn't really care any more. He laughed daftly as Megan told Cooper about her werewolf theory. So he'd been raped by a pack of werewolves had he? Somehow he found it oddly amusing.
"Fuckin' bitches the lot of them!" he barked, spilling whisky over himself in a blessed good mood. Whisky always raised his spirits, no matter how grave the outcome seemed to be. For all he cared those so called werewolves could have a go at him now, and he'd show them whose boss! He would shred them to pieces, they'd just see! Finally he drifted into sleep again though, drunk, and in peace - for the moment.
*-*
"SARGE! WAKE UP, YOU FUCK!" Wasn't that the voice of Cooper? Why was he bothering him when he was sleeping?! A sharp shattering noise followed, nicely underlining the panic in Cooper's voice. "SARGE, WAKE UP!"
He awoke with a jerk, whisky still floating through his veins. The room was completely dark now, and around him a chaos of sound was unfolding. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark, and then he spotted them, huge and wolf-like; standing by the window. One of them was lunging forwards towards Private Cooper who was lying on the floor screaming. Without flinching Wells grabbed the machinegun and his HP Browning and flung round towards the intruders with a roar. The room exploded in the sound as the machinegun started spitting bullets, accompanied with the sharp noise of a handgun emptying its chamber. Blood splattered all over the room, and at least one of the beasts whined before it threw itself out the window closely followed by his buddy.
"Thanks." Cooper panted as he staggered to his feet: "I heard a noise up on the attic. Reckoned I'd better check it out."
"Any time!" Wells grinned, dropping the emptied gun to the floor as he dropped back towards the pillows again.
"I… feel funny," he then added, a hand moving towards his abdomen, and before he knew it he was puking his guts out on the floor.
*-*
"Some time to get the flu, eh?" he chuckled daftly twenty minutes later, while Megan was wiping his forehead. In the background Cooper was lurking, sending him worried glares. Most regrettably the whisky was starting to wear off now that he'd emptied his stomach, and the horrors that were creeping outside started to work their way into his mind again.
"A shower would've been nice," he mumbled, the sour taste of bile still lingering in his mouth. What kind of pussy was he, getting sick on a bottle of whisky?! What's next, he'd bloody start sobbing like a child when watching the Lion King!
"How're you feeling, Sarge?" Cooper asked as he walked over to the bed. The smile in Wells' face was a mixture of delight and sorrow.
"I'm getting soft, Coop. Can't even hold down me booze anymore, mate." What looked like a relieved grin dawned on Cooper's face as he sat down by the bed.
"Yeah, it's pathetic, Sarge! Maybe I'll go find you some liqueur. I'm sure I saw some lying around, raspberry flavoured."
Wells made a gagging sound that made Megan roll her eyes.
"How's that stomach of yours holding up then?" Cooper asked, watching Megan as she left the room.
"Bloody marvellous!" Wells snorted: "Except from the fact that I feel constipated, on an empty stomach. Think I'll have a try at the khazi later," he added as an afterthought. Blimey, he felt odd!
Some Sergeant he was, not even able to distract all of his boys from some cursed forest. Bruce's body had been left behind to those... animals. As Cooper rose to his feet to join the rest of the baton again Wells held him back.
"They're yours, Coop. The squad is yours." He couldn't read the look on Cooper's face as he nodded and left him there once more to lie in his own misery.
His stomach still hurt, although not as bad as it had been. Maybe he'd been hit after all, maybe one of the bastards had kicked him while he lay down. He slowly sat up, the nausea slowly lifting, and threw a stolen glance down on his own abdomen, that was once again hidden behind his shirt. He poked at it carefully, as if he was afraid a nudge might set off another "fit", and was surprised to find the area stranger to him. By all means he should know his own belly by now, but that didn't feel like it. In an odd way it didn't feel the way it was supposed to. With trembling fingers he unbuttoned what was left of buttons on his shirt only to let a yelp of surprise escape his throat. If he hadn't lost his marbles yet, something that sure was debatable after what he'd encountered the last hours, he'd gained twenty pounds the latest hour! The nausea returned with renewed force, the room started spinning. What the hell was going on?!
"They're on the move!"
The scream descended from the kitchen and Sergeant Harry Wells was in no doubt what his mission was. He could stay here and feel sorry for himself while his lads were fighting for life and death in the floor below, but that was never an alternative. He ran downstairs, machinegun at the ready, disturbing discoveries shoved to the back of his head. What's the need of worries when there's a pack of werewolves knocking on the door. Maybe he'd be lucky enough never to have to face what reasons that was causing his bloated abdomen…
The attack lasted for two minutes. Shouting, screaming and the crackling noise of machineguns and handguns going off, Ryan sitting in a corner by the fire looking appalled, the stale cold smell of fear…
"I missed the footy for this?!" Joe roared towards a window where a werewolf was trying to snatch the hammer the private was currently using on the beast's hand.
"Shut up, Joe!" Spoon screamed in reply, currently swinging a sword towards one of the doors that were being attacked. A horrible scream reached Wells' ears while he was helping Cooper move a bookcase in front of a broken window.
"Don't even try about it!" somebody shouted from the hallway and the screams stopped.
A cold shudder went down Wells' spine. They were fighting a loosing battle. Then the attack ceased just as suddenly as it had begun. He slumped down on a chair, totally drained, half wondering if he'd find the Loch Ness Monster in the bathtub if he went looking. He might have given up his command, that didn't mean he still didn't feel responsible. And right now he felt responsible for the lost lives of two of his men. He'd just learned that Terry had been killed shortly after he himself had been busy decorating the floor with half- digested food.
"We're starting to run out of ammo," Joe pointed out, planting his big feet on the kitchen table. Megan pushed his legs down with an irritated look on her face.
"You don't have to make a mess out of EVERYTHING, you know!" she pointed out.
"There isn't any way out of this stinkin' hellhole?" Spoon muttered, tending the fire on the stove.
Megan shook her head. Wells closed his eyes, not wanting to let the grave reality sink in. All they could do now was to wait for sunrise. And sunrise was still five hours away.
"Cuppa, Sarge?" Spoon offered and held forth a cup of coffee.
He shook his head in reply, barely knowing what he had been asked. The pain was starting to build in his stomach again, slowly like a piece of charcoal on the barbecue.
"Are you all right, Sarge?" Joe asked.
"Fine, just peachy…," he replied flatly. The lie was so daft it smelled bad, and the cramped look on his face didn't exactly assure the people around the table that he was speaking the truth.
"Is there… any more of that whisky... Coop?" he managed to stutter before he fell to the floor, oblivious of everything and anything happening around him.
"Support his head, don't let him swallow his tongue! Spoon, that's not funny!" the orders from Cooper flung through the room as everybody not on guard duty scattered around the Sergeant who was squirming on the floor.
"Give him some air, for God's sake!"
They were lurking in the shadows. Taunting him, wanting him to do something stupid; to step into their nicely set trap. It had enjoyed raping him, and he could do nothing more than to scream curses towards the one pinning him down, and reach hopelessly towards the nearest spectators. When his squad had come for his rescue a minute later it'd already been too late. The only thing they could do was to mop him up and usher him away from the beasts.
"Oh, fuck. What's happening to his belly?!"
He was screaming in agony, couldn't help it. Better let out than kept in his mother always said. But his screams where accompanied by the unmistakable creepy sound of howling wolves on the outside. They knew he was in pain. And they knew why.
"Shouldn't we get him back to bed, Coop?"
"Not while he's like this. We need to wait it out. I'll give him some whisky and painkillers to ease the pain and when he seems to calm down we'll bring him back up."
"Whisky!" Wells moaned, barely capable of speaking at all by the moment.
He was pretty sure he felt his skin expand, that something inside him was growing with rapid speed. Tablets were shoved down his throat, and he half choked on the whisky brought to his lips to swallow them down with. The room was spinning, his guts were on fire and outside the howling continued like some sick backup-choir. Gasps erupted around the room.
"Ah, man, that's sick!" Joe barked.
"What's wrong with his stomach?!" Spoon cried.
Tears of fear and pain ran down Wells' cheeks as Cooper once more had him pinned down to have a look on his abdomen.
"I think he's bleedin' in his belly!" he stuttered, not even daring to touch the distended flesh.
If it was just blood filling his insides, then why did it feel like he was being ripped apart internally?
"I don't think he's haemorrhaging." Megan's voice, hushed and toned down so that Wells wasn't supposed to hear her.
"No," Wells' agreed; "it's like… something… AAARGH… it's like… claws…. On the... inside…"
Finally the combined effect of whisky and strong painkillers shot in. Wells fainted with a gasp.
*-*
"You're not serious?!"
Hushed voices. Dark room. He had to be back up on the loft.
"They DO reproduce, Cooper."
"Amongst themselves maybe. But what you're suggesting is ludicrous!"
"Look at his belly. Do you really believe that it's blood causing that?!"
It was Cooper and Megan arguing. He could tell as much. Arguing about what?
"Hush! He's stirring, I think he's waking up."
And indeed he did. Wells awoke, feeling numb in his entire body, probably due to the painkillers and the whisky. Blinking confusedly he finally recognised the dark outlines of Cooper and Megan standing by the bed. The shivering flicker of a lone candlelight was the only source of light. Apparently they hadn't taken the chance to get the generator up and running again.
"How are you feeling, mate?" Cooper asked and moved into the light. Wells stirred, feeling like a stranded whale he gave up on the try to sit up.
"Fuckin' top notch, mate," he replied, eyes searching for that bottle of whisky. He had a feeling he didn't want to know what Cooper and Megan had been whispering about moments earlier, and besides he was still sleepy and sleep was good. It was an escape. Fumbling helplessly for a moment he finally was able to unbutton the right chest pocket on his shirt where he kept his most priced possession. A picture of his wife. As his heavy gaze rested on the face of the one he'd vowed to spend his entire life with, he managed to relax again; and moments later he was sleeping with a soft smile on his lips. It was a narrow escape.
*-*
He was starting to get fed up with this… Spoon was shouting, Cooper was barking, and there were weird flashes of light now and then that teased his closed eyelids. A sudden movement, as if the bed was jerked away from his back made him wake up with a start. Struggling to sit up it dawned to him that the bed had indeed been jerked away from his back, although he had followed it. It was now standing by one of the windows, where Cooper was crammed between the bed and the wall, and on the outside a werewolf was trying to get in.
"What the hell's goin' on?!" he barked, feverishly trying to find his machinegun in the blind. He suddenly remembered that it probably was left down in the kitchen. Spoon was frantically trying to cut a rope tied to one of the bed's legs, while Megan was keeping the werewolf at bay with the blitz on her camera. With a last grunt of despair Spoon cut the last remaining bit of the rope and the werewolf was sent flying. Cooper and Megan shoved a bookcase in front of the open gap in the wall, while Spoon ran downstairs. Staring perplexedly for a moment he finally regained control of his tongue and was about to ask Cooper once more, what was going on. Instead he made the mistake to look down on his gut. He'd realised he was still feeling constipated and that he met forceful resistance from his own body as he tried to sit up. Naturally he had a look to see what was going on…
"JESUS CHRIST!" he yelped as he looked down on his stomach. It seemed like he'd gained a few more pounds while he'd been sleeping.
he thought as he glared down on an abdomen he didn't recognize any more. He'd heard about bloating, but this was ridiculous! Even old Seamus with the beer belly down at Molly's was more skinny than he was at the moment. The last button in his shirt seemed to be in danger of shooting off any second. Dangerously close to hyperventilating his panicked glare went up, meeting Cooper's worried eyes.
"We have to move, Sarge. Joe hotwired a car that was standing in the old shed, he's waiting outside with the motor running."
Wait a minute… Didn't Megan say there was no way out of here an hour ago? Wells was about to protest, but one look on Cooper's determined features told him to wait.
"Are you able to walk?"
"Yeah, think so," Wells answered heavily. He knew his questions had to wait. His mutant belly was painfully obvious to the lot of them and there would be plenty of chances to worry about what the hell was happening to him later.
Running down the stairs proved to be quite a challenge when his guts felt as if they were to explode any minute. Every now and then painful twinges of what he could swear felt like movements from the inside of his stomach had him staggering for a few steps. But he was stubborn enough to toss the thoughts away with a grunt. Later.
Down in the hallway Spoon and Ryan was waiting, together with the family dog that had been the only inhabitant to be found when they had arrived earlier that night.
"Alright, everybody ready?" Cooper barked, and signalled for Spoon to open the door.
The sight meeting them was devastating as well as terrifying. Joe had backed the Landrover all the way up to the door for them to enter the car from the back. The battle that had been fought in the back of the pickup left little mercy on the private. Blood was splattered everywhere and on top of Joe's lifeless body a sneering werewolf had been interrupted in his supper. Some of them screamed in surprise and horror, and towards yellow eyes Megan emptied the handgun Cooper had given her earlier that night towards yellow eyes. Wells threw himself against the door with all his weight, slamming the door shut right in front of the howling creature's foul snout, still not believing his own eyes. He'd lost three of his lads now, half the squad.
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: These fine young soldiers, and especially Harry Wells, are none of my business and definitely not my property. I simply had to borrow them for a little while, playing with grossing out the horror-genre. *begs for forgiveness*
Authors notes: I wish to thank Keely Kylan and CBC, the two darlings who's helped me launch this lil' ficcie into orbit. Without you I'd never dare post this story here in the first place, so thank you so very, very, very, very, very, very, VERY (you get the picture ;) MUCH! ;D
Hugs,
Restina
Author's Chapter Notes:
What if Sergeant Wells was attacked in another way back in the forest, what if he was raped instead of maimed. How would the tale have evolved then? I tried to put a different spin to the story, and what you see before you is the result…