Carpe Nox Noctis
He sat by the kitchen table, almost apathetic. Loosing Joe as well was almost too much to bear for the experienced soldier, and it had such a devastating impact he suppressed his own advancing condition for the moment. Cooper was interrogating Ryan who looked both calm and unaffected by the whole circus.
"It's time you start spilling your guts, Ryan! What's your role in all of this?!"
Annie. Wonder if he'd ever see her again. Probably not. Wells knew he was considered a side dish at the moment. They had no chance but to try and wait it out, hope there would be no more attacks before dawn. But Wells had stopped believing in Santa Claus and Peter Pan a long time ago. Unless Cooper was able to shake some valid information from Captain Ryan things were starting to look very grave indeed. Rummaging around in his chest pocket, looking for Annie's portrait again Wells' fingers touched something hard and cold. The bug Bruce had found in the radio. Slowly the pieces started to fall into place, and Wells knew before asking that his platoon had been used as bait. Armed with toy-guns spitting blanks they were lambs for the slaughter, and although Ryan wasn't the one thinking about doing the actual slaughtering, he was a slaughterer no less.
Trembling with anger he woke to reality again, silently hoping Coop would use the knife he pressed towards Ryan's throat. He had just admitted Wells' worst fears, and Cooper wasn't one tad more pleased than his Sergeant.
"Monkey see, monkey do," Ryan growled when Cooper finally released him. Wells got to his feet, anger raging in his mind as he thought of the men he'd lost due to this bastard's way of fending people off as expendable targets. He wasn't even aware of what he was screaming on the top of his lungs as both he and Cooper lunged towards the Captain. All he knew was that he wanted to kick the living daylights out of this filth. Ryan snarled, his eyes widened, teeth was gritted in a sneer.
"Fuck!" Cooper yelled as something in Ryan's eyes shifted. They tossed him over the table, maybe because it was because of the feeling of their compadres' blood on this man's hands, or maybe they simply got spooked. Wells jumped back as Ryan reappeared over the table's edge. Yellow eyes, huge, wolf like teeth and… long, sharp claws. Disappearing behind the table once more Wells felt a stone sink down in his stomach. Ryan had been hurt by a werewolf. HE had been raped by one.
The second time Ryan appeared above the table the transformation was complete. A sneering werewolf was glaring back at them, teeth bared. A short, but intense fight followed. Cooper, Spoon and Wells attacked the roaring beast charging towards them with all they could find. Finally Ryan jumped out a window, chased by angry bullets on the courtesy of Spoon's machinegun.
"Bollocks!" Cooper glared out the window.
"That shifty bastard!"
Wells staggered back to his chair, adrenaline rushing through his veins, mind screaming. He'd just witnessed what had happened to Ryan. What the hell would happen to him? Breathing heavily he looked up, and discovered the same fear in the eyes of his men. They were wondering what would happen to him, whether he would turn werewolf right in front of their eyes and rip them apart.
Cooper patted his back with a heavy palm.
"Don't," he simply said. "You're with us."
Wells drew a shaky sigh. Maybe they were willing to take a bet on his loyalty towards them, but was he?
"I'm dangerous, Coop. You know it." He moved uneasily on the seat of the chair, finding it difficult to look his mate in the eye.
"Just because Ryan turned into a werewolf doesn't automatically say that you'll turn into one to. Ryan was attacked, while you were…"
"Raped," Wells finished flatly.
"This werewolf-thing probably infects trough blood, like some perverted HIV-virus or something. That should leave you off the hook!" Cooper told him eagerly.
"Should it?" A heavy gaze slowly rose towards the private.
"You weren't bleeding, Sarge. We looked you over while you were sleeping."
"Well, maybe I was bleeding somewhere you didn't look then, mate. Or did you shove a light up my arse as well, Coop? Or maybe it infects through all kinds of ... fluids?" Wells asked him tiredly. He was too tired to cling to just any hope of survival right now, and he wasn't too sure he would take any chances on being infected or not. "It's a full moon. Look at what happened to Ryan. It only took a few hours. The next time you turn your back on me I might very well turn into the big bad wolf!" He let go of a soft groan as the pressure in his stomach was starting to build again. "I don't want to take that chance, Coop. I don't want to wake up in a few hours, digesting the lot of you!"
Megan had kept quiet during Cooper's and Well's discussion, but now she spoke up.
"Cooper.. I think we should tell him what I…"
"NO, Megan." Cooper told her firmly, a warning glare in his eyes.
"Tell me what?!" Wells barked. He suddenly remembered the discussion he'd awoken to earlier.
"Nothing. It's absolutely nothing!" Cooper told him sternly, but there was a look of unease on his face, and Megan gave him a glare of disapproval. His discomfort rose with every breath now, maybe this was how it felt like, before transformation. Wells got to his feet, face shining with the moist promise of pain to come.
"Let me take care of myself, Coop."
In his hand he held his handgun, cocked and ready.
"No," Cooper answered calmly: "we need you."
"I don't think I'll be in any condition to help much longer," Wells panted, insides twisting and turning.
"Then you'll help us as long as you manage to!" Spoon replied; "Just because you've grown a beer-belly doesn't say we let you off the hook that easy!"
Wells had no choice but to return the crooked smile.
"Alright then, Spooney," he grunted. "What you want me to do?"
"What if we roast the bastards?" Spoon asked: "Let's dodge this penalty shoot out, and skip right ahead to First Goal! One shot to roast the lot of them!"
"You know, you're starting to sound like Joe," Cooper smirked: "But I would like to know how you're going to take them all out in one shot. We don't even know where their hiding place is located, or if they even have one."
"Maybe we do," Megan answered him silently.
Sitting down again Wells was twinning his thumbs, giving her an impatient look. He didn't know how much longer he would allow himself to stick around.
Apparently the werewolves were behaving like a pack of wolves, lead by an Alfa leader. They would seek refuge someplace dry and warm, close to their food-supply. This house was the most suited place, but on second place came… the shed. Or at least that was Megan's, the zoologist, theory. Both Spoon's and Cooper's spirits seemed to rise by this new hope, but Wells, with years of experience on his back, wasn't convinced.
"Well, as I see it we have two choices," Cooper pointed out; "either we barbeque the bastards, or we sit tight hoping they will give up and leave."
"Ever stopped to wonder why the family that lives here went walkabout?" Wells asked, drying his chin.
Cooper looked at him for a moment, then picked down a family portrait placed on the shelf next to him.
"Werewolves spend most of their time in human shape, right?" he studied the picture with dawning realisation: "And the only house within fifty miles' distance is… right here..." He tossed the picture on the table looking annoyed by himself.
"They're not goin' to give up and leave for home then," Spoon replied.
"They ARE home." Wells sighed; "And it makes perfect sense doesn't it? I mean, we broke into their house, ate all their porridge and slept in their fuckin' beds. No wonder they're pissed!"
"That leaves us with alternative one then." Cooper decided.
"But they're good people!" Megan interjected, eyes now filling with emotions.
"Just more the pity," Cooper answered: "Because we have to kill them all."
"Damn right we are!" Wells agreed passionately.
*-*
His lads were working in frenzy, preparing the great barbecue. The plan was as simple as it was stupid - they would hotwire the old car Joe had sacrificed his life to park outside the main door, make sure it would piss petrol like there was no tomorrow and then run the damn thing straight into the werewolves' nest, hopefully blasting shed and possible inhabitants to pieces.
Wells' reiterating condition left him with preparing a Molotov cocktail that would work as a back up plan if Spoon failed with his matches. Cooper would deal with the dangerous part, driving the thing...
He had a bad feeling about this. It couldn't be that easy. Those filthy rats sure had put up a fight until now, and the possibility of them going up in smoke in one big blast seemed too farfetched.
"How're you doing Sarge?" Cooper entered the kitchen where Wells was standing by the window, a worried frown on his brow.
"What if she's wrong?!" the Sergeant argued. From here the shed looked deserted. "What if they're not all in there?!"
"Then we'll have some of them, and that's bloody well better than none of them, and a marked improvement on all of us!" Cooper replied calmly. Wells grabbed Cooper's collar, desperation building in his eyes.
"You leave now, mate. I'll stay behind, I'll keep them occupied. Take the car, drive it as far as it goes, get the hell away from here now, before it's too late!"
"No." Cooper slowly jerked free from the Sergeant's grip. A shadow of helplessness ran over Wells' face looking at his best mate.
"It's alright, Coop. It's alright. I just didn't make it out this time. Comes with the job, mate. When I signed that dotted line I bloody meant it, I'M a professional soldier!" he snarled with a mixture of indignation and pride painting his voice.
"So stop with this hara-kiri-shit then," Cooper answered, looking out the window.
Closing his eyes, Wells finally gave in.
"Alright, then. What you want me do?"
"Roast their bollocks off!" Cooper replied.
*-*
He was standing by the window, waiting for Cooper to start the car and let the final kick-off begin, holding the Molotov cocktail in his left hand, ready to light it at a moments notice. Suddenly he noticed the flicker of a movement in the corner of his eye and noticed Megan lurking in the hallway, fidgeting with what he recognised as Cooper's keychain. The lad had actually brought a lucky rabbit's foot to the training mission, claiming he would need all the luck he could get. Overwhelmed by a gut feeling, Wells didn't want to leave Megan alone with the chain that held the keys to the house.
"Megan!" he shouted, just as she was about to slip out of his view. She turned towards him, a surprised look on her face.
"What?" she asked, an innocent tone in her voice that suddenly made Wells' skin crawl.
"Hand me the keys!" he ordered, reaching out his arm.
"Why?" she asked, almost in a childish, disappointed kind of way.
"I need them!" Wells answered briskly. Outside the motor of the old Landrover woke to life with a roar. His stomach turned painfully as he took one step towards her.
"Give them to me." It was an order, not a request. He could have sworn an angry scowl formed on her face, but the hallway was too dark to tell.
"Cooper trusted me with them," she tried, but handed the chain over when she noticed the look on Wells' face.
Something was wrong here, he knew it. If there only was a way for him to point out why…
"SAARGE!" Spoon was yelling from the outside.
Apparently he hadn't succeeded with lighting the trail of petrol. Wells turned his back on Megan and walked to the main door as fast as he managed. The painful twinges in his stomach increased by every step he took. Lighting the transformed bottle of whisky he stomped outside, determination plastered on his face. The rest of his lads were going to survive this!
"SARGE!"
He stepped out of the house, eyes focused on the trail of petrol showing the course of the Landrover. There was Cooper, running at full speed towards the house. Wells tossed the bottle to the ground with a soldier's precision, hate towards the murderers of his men burning in his heart.
"COOPER! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" he roared as the petrol caught fire and whooshed towards its target. No werewolves were in sight, maybe Megan had been right all along after all…? He looked down for a moment, on the rabbit's foot he was holding in his hand. Fuck it, he wasn't about to start judging his instincts just yet!
Running like a champion Cooper jumped over the trail of fire and ran inside, Spoon slamming the door shut behind him. A deafening blast reached their ears as they headed towards the kitchen window to see. A huge fireball reached for the sky, the shed was gone; and hopefully a pack of werewolves as well. Triumphant grins found their way to the soldiers. No werewolves were in sight.
"Well done, lads!" Wells grinned, clutching his stomach. He had to sit down, coughing hoarsely. Wouldn't it just be his rotten luck if he transformed into a werewolf right now… when victory actually seemed within their grasp…?
"I'm sorry…"
He looked up. Megan was standing above Cooper a kind of sad look in her eyes. She took a few steps back, seemingly fighting with a stomach-ache her self. Wells stared blankly down at the rabbit's foot, looked at the key hanging on it that didn't belong to Cooper. The keys to this house. Holy, fuckin' shit.
She looked his way and smiled.
"Don't worry, Sarge. You caught me in time. The pack's still outside, and I bet they're pretty pissed with me right now."
Cooper and Spoon gasped simultaneously.
"There never was a house fifty miles away," Cooper said slowly.
"No." Megan shook her head.
"And the reason you're not on any of these pictures around here is because you took them..."
"That's why I carry the thing with me everywhere," Megan replied, and shrugged her shoulders. She gave her camera an almost loving look.
"You women. Always the same shite!" Cooper rolled his eyes.
Wells had to let out a new groan of unease. He regretted using the last bit of whisky on that Molotov cocktail. Megan turned towards him, a peculiar smile growing on her face as she eyed him up and down.
"I guess a congratulation is in order, Sarge," she snickered, as she watched Wells' distended gut twist and turn.
"It's the cub of the Alfa-leader you're carrying there. Nice and nested, in the bowls above your rectum I'd guess, growing, getting ready to come out- shredding you to pieces as it does so." She toppled forwards, whining. "It's that time of the month," she snarled, eyes turning yellow.
Wells stood up from the chair, raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit her straight between the eyes.
"Somebody had to… put her out of her misery," he growled, as he staggered backwards, her last words finally penetrating his defences. "So that was what you didn't want me to know…" He wasn't even able to gather the strength to look at Cooper.
"Listen, Sarge," Cooper said, grabbing his shoulder as he said so: "I didn't want you to know, because I didn't believe her. I still don't."
Slumping down on the chair Wells looked up, hope no longer evident on his face.
"She was right, and you know it." Cooper didn't say anything more, finally he was lost for words.
"No wonder I've been feeling constipated, I have a six pound crap to shite," Wells chuckled hollowly, his mind as dark as his joke. Cooper and Spoon exchanged looks. Looking down on his own distended gut, the Sergeant was filled with self-loathing and fury. "Comfortable in there?" he snarled, addressing the impostor beyond his skin: "Nice and warm, ey? Close to the food supply? FUCKIN' WANKER!" he yelled and started to hit his own stomach."GET OUT OF ME, YOU HEAR?! GET. OUT!!" Screaming with rage and despair he hit tender skin over and over again until Cooper and Spoon finally managed to restrain him, only to have him gulping up bile."Let me go!" Wells panted, struggling to break free: "I want out!"
"Calm down, Sarge. Don't give them the pleasure." Cooper held firm arms over the Sergeant's chest to force him to relax.
"I can't help it," Wells' breathed head swinging weakly from side to side. He was at the end of the road.
"They're on the move!" Spoon shouted, noticing movement outside the windows.
"Keep your head down, Sarge," Cooper told Wells and shoved him to the floor.
Standing over him, hesitating for a moment he finally left to join Spoon who was already spilling precious rounds of ammo through the windows. Wells lay petrified for a few seconds, struggling to take the final choice. By his side lay the gun he'd shot the bitch with, there was one bullet left in the chamber. Either he used it in the fight to save what little was left of his precious squad, otherwise he put himself out of his own misery. One bullet. It could be the difference between life and death for Cooper and Spooney, already running out of bullets, or it could spare him to experience the "miracle of life" unfolding in his own intestines.
He chose the lads.
Staggering to his feet he put the gun in his pocket, grabbing a knife and fork to join the battle.
"I told you to keep your head down, Sarge!" Cooper barked as he discovered the swaying Sergeant approaching.
"We're on the same team, son," Wells grunted, stabbing a werewolf arm that was grasping through the window. "Go away you FUCKIN' PUSSIES, or else I stab JUNIOR HERE!" he bellowed, aiming a kitchen knife to his belly.
Evidently, it worked. The attack ceased and the three remaining werewolves retrieved to the outskirts of the forest eyes never leaving the Sergeant.
"Seems we have a hostage," Wells croaked in bitter irony, his legs caving in on him.
"Spoon, you stand on point here. I'll help Sarge upstairs and watch the second floor!" Cooper grabbed the Sergeant before he went crashing to the floor.
So… this `thing' he was carrying was precious to them, ay? Barely keeping up with Cooper Wells dragged his feet up the stairs. They might be able to keep the dogs at bay then, as long as they were convinced he was willing to run a knife through his flesh. And he bloody well was willing! Maybe, if he could hold on until daybreak…
"Feel like takin' a trip to the khazi, mate?" Cooper asked as they passed the last step of stairs.
"No. This pup ain't going nowhere!" Wells' coughed, poking painfully stretched skin as he said so, just to taunt the little beast squirming around in there. "This… is our ticket out."
"There's three more hours to dawn, mate."
Slowly they were working their way into the bedroom.
"I can make it," Wells panted: "I'll stick a cork in it. Fuck, I'll jam my fist up there if necessary!" He crawled into bed with less dignity than a whore, needing Cooper's help to lie down on his back. "It's just.. three hours.. Peace of cake, Coop." He parked the kitchen knife on the top of his chest, ready to strike at a moments notice."Don't worry, son."
Cooper's face was bathing in shadows, but his trembling hands told it all.
"I can't let you do that, Sarge. If you have to, you have to. Spoon and I'll keep them at bay."
Closing his eyes Wells denied a sudden urge to push, letting out snarling grunts as he did so.
"I'm. Not. Letting. It!" he groaned, pushing the side of his stomach with his left hand. "It's staying… right.. there! Fuckin'… unbelievable…" he added with a groan.
Cooper went over to the one window that wasn't barricaded to have a sweeping glare over the area, tossing one look over his shoulder at the Sergeant as his face bore down towards his chest.
"You just.. worry about keeping yourself and Spooney alive, son." Wells panted: "And be damn sure to place.. a bullet.. between my.. eyes if I start.. turning into one.. of them."
*-*
Half an hour later Wells was beyond agony, squirming in pain as what was inside of him made desperate attempts of escape. The walls sent his screams echoing through the house, accompanied by the howls of the remaining werewolves on the outside. Cooper had gone down to help Spoon keep lookout downstairs, after Wells had promised him he could take care of him self.
"Just let them come," he panted: "I'll make sure Junior… meets the same sticky faith as Bruce, Terry and Joe!" Copper, seemingly in doubt still, hesitated.
"I'm not leaving you, Sarge." He told him stubbornly: "I can't leave you here by your self in this state."
"Listen mate; I'm already dead… you hear me? Dead." His back arched, and a roar left his lips together with staggered cursing. "FU-U- UCKIN' HELL! BO-OLLO-CKS!" Cramps easing just a notch he continued: "I'm staying… alive until… sunrise. That's a promise... mate. I'm not letting `em have you… and Spoon too."
Cooper stared at him with a helpless look on his face. He seemed lost for words again.
"Hang on, you hear me Sarge? We're making it out of here all three of us!" he told the Sergeant with a passionate voice that still shoved traces of the same fear running through Well's veins at the moment.
Two and a half more hours… His body was already working frantically trying to rid itself with the impostor that was ripping his innards asunder. Wells didn't need to have a look down his undies to know that he was bleeding. As long as he didn't die of the blood loss too soon… On the outside the howling was continuous, only adding to the anger Wells already was harvesting for these filthy creatures. Every now and then it felt like the fucker inside him tried to claw itself to freedom, giving Wells hell as long as the fits lasted. Finally he bit down on the shaft of the kitchen knife, clenching his teeth with all his might every time another cramp soared through his body. They wouldn't have the pleasure of hearing him screaming anymore.
Naturally Cooper came charging up to the bedroom after a minute's silence from Wells' part, apparently convinced the Sergeant had been ripped to shreds. He stopped dead in a row of curses cast towards phantom werewolves, and almost dropped the rifle he was carrying.
Wells thought, oddly amused by the thought of it; but he couldn't help his wild eyes, the sweat running down his face or stop the blood from poring out from his sprawled out body.
"Inngh finhh…," he quaffed against the gag in his mouth, but as a new fit sent him falling towards the abyss he lost all contact with the rest of the world, almost biting the shaft to pieces with his bare teeth in the process.
"Fuck, Sarge. Don't do this to yourself!"
He barely heard Cooper and his prayers, quavering like in a fever towards wet bed sheets. He was NOT quitting just yet!
Head falling heavily towards the pillow he was granted a few seconds worth of frantic panting as Cooper removed the knife from Well's mouth.
"Issh... it…. dawn… yeth..?" Wells' chuckled daftly, head turning slowly from side to side with a pathetic smile plastered on his lips.
Cooper looked at him with a fearful frown on his forehead and a face bathing in pity.
"Almost there, mate." His voice tried for the optimistic approach, but his face betrayed him: "Anything I can do for you before I head downstairs again?"
"Annie." Wells' mumbled, faintly patting his chest pocket.
Cooper unbuttoned the pocket for him with trembling fingers.
"Here mate." He placed her picture in the Sergeant's meekly outstretched palm.
"Thanks… son," he whispered hoarsely and put the shaft back between his teeth.
Watching Cooper leave he remembered he had to have Cooper promise him to tell Annie that he loved her. Not that she didn't know... but he wouldn't leave this world without giving her some sort of goodbye.
*-*
He was starting to consider that fist up his arse now. He had no idea how long he'd been squirming in bed, cursing the sun to arise, intestines being slowly grinded into mincemeat. Every now and then there was shouting from the floor below, reports of werewolves approaching, and Wells would put the knife between his hands, aiming the blade towards the centre of his belly, roaring for the dirty bastards to come closer. Every now and then the blade cut a little deeper than intended; Wells didn't feel the blade cutting his skin anymore.
"COME ON THEN, GIVE IT SOME BOLLOCKS! LET ME TURN THIS FUCKER INTO SHISH KEBAB!!"
The werewolves answered by folding back, seemingly still not too desperate. But the time would come when they had nothing to loose. If Wells really managed to hold on until sunrise they would have to make one last desperate attack before they would turn back into human shape again. Their hope was that Wells died before that would be necessary, but Wells had every intention of proving them wrong.
The picture of Annie was his only relief as he lay there alone, riding out the cramps as best he could. Her kind features and the good-natured spirit that was shining through her skin gave him the strength he needed to continue fighting. It was a bloody shame he wouldn't be able to hold her in his arms again. Never would he smell her soft skin, kiss her lips or make love to her on that old creaky bed up on the attic. He would end his life here, on this godforsaken place, without the soothing aid of anything else than an old picture and a burning wish to avenge his fallen soldiers. He spat the knife away from his lips, no longer afraid to scream his lungs off. With every scream he kept the impostor inside just a little bit longer, body begging for relief, but his spirit still fighting. Outside the night was slowly dying, daybreak creeping closer as the blood-red stains on the bed greedily grew bigger. There would be a last and final attack any minute now, the wolves weren't howling anymore.
"COOH…PER, SPHo…ney…"
His voice was getting hoarse and was barely audible anymore. He wanted Cooper and Spoon to join him in the bedroom. They would be safe as long as he was alive and kicking, and in the same room.
"We're comin'!" Spoon shouted up the stairs, but his reassuring reply was followed by Cooper screaming:
"INCOMING!"
Sounds of battle reached Wells in the bedroom, making him toss helplessly in bed.
"Spooney! Cooh…per!!! Wells cried, eyes wide with fear. Downstairs the sound of a shotgun shook the walls of the entire house, he could hear Spoon cursing and Cooper yelling. Determination lighting in his eyes he arched out of bed, legs barely managing to carry his weight. "LE...eave me LADS… be!" he panted as he staggered towards the door, knife pointed towards the centre of his belly. Gritting his teeth to hold back the urge to scream he managed to get as far as to the doorstep before his knees gave in and sent him crashing towards the floor. "NNGHAAH!" Falling heavily, on his stomach, sent flames of white, burning fire up his spine, and for a moment Wells was sure he would pass out. The knife had left a deep gash to his side, but missed its target on the way down.
"SAAARGE!"
He barely recognised Cooper's voice, and stared blankly at the green blot running up the stairs towards him. He shook his head, queasy by this feeling of slow motion, desperate to clear his mind. A fierce howling sound did the job for him, though. Slowly his vision cleared, and after hauling himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily towards the doorframe, he once more picked up the knife and pointed it to his abdomen.
"Leave… him...beh…," he told a grey shadow, reaching for Cooper as he backed slowly down the hallway towards Wells. "Leave… him... or else... your pup… has it..."
Wells winced for a second when he recognised the werewolf that had raped him. White markings ran down its face, underlining yellow, hateful eyes. Its teeth were bared, and its nostrils were flaring, smelling the blood of his victim. Now it was snarling, eyes fixed on the heavy stomach of the general who had a kitchen knife pointed at his own abdomen. A tiny notch of madness in Wells' eyes would tell anyone he wasn't kidding. "Don't you... fuckin' try it!" he growled as the wolf took one step closer. Wells proved his point by letting the blade taste his flesh. One centimetre per step. Cooper continued backing until he was up on the Sergeant's side. "Where's… Spoo...ney?" Wells, panted, eyes never leaving his opponent, his hands calmly clasped round the knife's shaft. "He didn't make it, Sarge." Cooper told him quietly. No! Dawn was only minutes away! Why? WHY?! "You... fuck...in'… bash...tard!" he wheezed towards the grinning werewolf, who was now accompanied by another one. "The third… Where's... the third," Wells croaked, his insides bursting into fire as the intruder was having a last desperate attempt to fight its way out.
"Spooney offed it. Those are the two left standing" Cooper answered.
Wells suddenly noticed that the private was armed with a meat axe and a pan. Apparently they'd finally run out of ammo.
"Fuh… ck." Something was bursting inside of him. Blood was soaking his pants in a menacing pace, they were running out of time. "Take… the gun… My… pockh… et...," Wells moaned, starting to feel dizzy.
Cooper reached down and grabbed the gun, gaze locked on the two werewolves standing at the top of the stairs.
"Point… it… on... meh."
Doing as he was told, Cooper ran the back of his hand hurriedly over his eyes.
"Hold on, Sarge," he mouthed, before he addressed the werewolves, calmly and sternly. "Don't fuckin' move a single muscle or else I WILL kill this rat, and after wards I WILL kill you! It won't matter how fast you run, you won't outrun a speeding bullet. It may glance off you lot, but I bet an unborn is a bit more fragile."
The leader growled towards him, hate obviate in his eyes. From the bedroom Wells faintly noticed light starting to creep in through the open window, dawn. A weary smile rose to his face as he ran the knife a notch deeper into his stomach, making the two by the stairs growl dangerously.
"Pissin'... inbreads… the… lot of.. yah," he coughed, a red line running down the side of his chin. A groan rattled through his chest, he was starting to loose. He could feel the contents of his stomach shift, feel something huge moving downwards, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to get to the nearest toilet. "I'm… neah..rly... shitting my... panths…" he whispered, panic rising along with his heart rate.
The werewolves took a few steps closer, fierce grins on their snouts. Once more he pressed the blade further into his flesh.
"GET BACK!" Cooper roared, poking Wells with the gun he was aiming towards his lower abdomen.
Daylight embraced the Sergeant's face as his head fell back to the doorframe, and the face of Annie flew by his inner eye for a brief moment. Opening his eyes again, his vision was no longer blurred or hazy, his face showed no traces of fear or defeat anymore.
"Guess… what," he barked, coughing violently and spitting blood all over himself: "The sun… is here! And… that... meaNNNGH… that… means... you…'re in serious… shite!" Finally he was allowed the pleasure of smelling his opponents' dawning fear and realisation that they were loosing.
With a furious howl both werewolves charged forwards in one last desperate attempt, but they both toppled over in the hallway, squirming in agony as the transformation back to human form started. The leader wolf, the one with the white stripes was slowly changing into a man, but still he kept creeping towards Cooper and Wells. The fur disappeared, human flesh appeared. But his teeth and eyes still bore the resemblance of a snarling wolf. The gun barrel pointing at Well's abdomen changed direction, aiming between human-growing eyes.
"This one's for Sarge!" The gun went of with a deafening crack, and a man looking to be in his midst fifties fell stone dead to the floor after pinching off a pathetic whine. "Give me the knife, Sarge," Cooper told him quietly.
Wells' hands were shaking fiercely now and his breath was starting to get shallow. The grip around the knife was so firm Cooper had to pry it out of his hands. Wiping off the Sergeant's blood he went down the hallway, towards a naked woman, cowering on the floor, shaking with both fear and despair.
"Don't think I'll grant you any mercy just because you've turned human again," Cooper told her sternly, looking her deep into the eye before he ran the knife deep down her flesh without flinching.
The woman cried, a foul guttural scream that could make the skin crawl on anyone without balls of steal. Cooper simply cut her throat, and made sure she stopped.
"Serves… you… righ...t!" Wells breathed, struggling to keep his head up, arms falling weakly to his sides.
Cooper helped him back in bed and was gracious not to mention the trail of blood Wells left behind as he was dragging the Sergeant over the floor.
"I… think… shit… pants…," Wells gruffed, feeling something starting to emerge between his legs. He was placed on his back, face distorted in a weary grimace as he once more was told by his body to push. This time he obeyed.
"WOW!" Cooper's eyes turned the size of dinner plates as he was staring at Wells' crotch, and he stood awestruck for a moment until he gathered his senses and leaned over to help the Sergeant off with his pants.
Blood was everywhere, and Wells' face gained a ghostlike shade of white as he bore down with what little strength he had left and pushed. With a last, desperate growl he forced the intruder out of his body, tears streaming down his face as he did so. But it wasn't tears of sadness, running down his cheeks.
Cooper. Cooper had survived. At least he could die with his conscience a litter lighter, knowing that at least one of his lads had made it out of this alive.
"Is it… still… a...live...?" he mumbled, indicating what had just emerged between his thighs. Cooper was oddly silent, glaring down on something he held in is arms. Concentrating hard Wells was able to focus his gaze on the lifeless shape, the lifeless shape of a baby. He inhaled sharply, perplexed by the sight. He was prepared to look at a hairy doglike creature and was completely taken aback by the sight of an apparently perfectly human baby boy. It dawned only now on his tired mind that the laws of werewolves would apply to unborn werewolves as well.
It was dead. Apparently a baby werewolf in human form doesn't take too well being trapped inside an anus, and Cooper lay it down somewhere out of the reach of Wells' gaze.
"How're you doin' Sarge?" A sad and crooked smile swept over Cooper's face as Wells lifted his heavy gaze with a huge effort.
"Just… peachy... mate." His daft attempt of a smile was evidence of his real condition.
And as his vision became blurry once more, and the pain was leaving his body to grant him a blessed moment of solitude, he whispered the words that had kept him fighting the last few hours.
"Tell Annie… that I love… her, mate." He then closed his eyes, the image of his wife swimming in his mind as his heart surrendered, leaving Cooper all alone in a brick house far inside the forest of the big bad wolf.
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