Chapter 9: Coming to Grips
He didn't realize exactly when he woke up, as he didn't have clear recollections of sleeping. His whole life had become unreal, a sort of walking nightmare, ever since that strange man bit him outside the bar. Now he had vague memories of people he knew he had never met and places he had never been. Not for the first time, he prayed that he was sick and experiencing fever induced delirium. He opened his eyes and realized that he didn't have that kind of luck.
He was in a dimly lit room, lying on a bed. The room was square and small, perhaps eight feet on each side. His bed lay against one of the walls. In the far wall, an open doorway led to a bathroom. The wall towards the foot of his bed held the only door, which was closed. A nightlight, near the bathroom doorway, provided the dim light. His stomach rebelled, interrupting any further contemplation on his surroundings.
He leapt out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, where he was violently sick for several minutes. After vomiting everything he recalled eating for the last several days, he noticed a plastic glass on the sink. He ran some water into the glass and rinsed out his mouth before stumbling back to his bed. Once seated again and feeling somewhat better, he noticed a light switch and turned on the lights.
Mistake!
The light stabbed his eyes with a hundred needles. He actually whimpered; reaching out blindly and turning the lights back off. Holding his head in his hands, he took several deep breaths and tried to figure out where he was at and what had happened to him. He recalled the stranger biting him; he recalled being unwilling to call the police when the stranger moved into his house. He remembered the stranger turning into some kind of large, hairy monster. He remembered the other strangers that showed up and overpowered the strange man and one of this new bunch telling him, in a kindly voice, that his nightmares had come true. Finally, he remembered the terror when his own body betrayed him, changing into a beast just like the strange man. Then the kindly man shot him with a blowgun and he was himself again, although the dart hurt like hell. After that…
He woke up here, wherever here happened to be. He stumbled back to his feet and walked around the room. He discovered that the only piece of furniture, other than the bed, was a chair sitting opposite the door, near the bed's headboard. The chair held clean and neatly folded clothing, sweats, boxers and socks, in roughly his size. The bathroom had a towel, washcloth and soap. The shower worked and had hot water available. Last, he checked the door which, he wasn't surprised to note, was locked from the outside. Finally, he noticed that there were no windows.
After dressing himself, he returned to the bed and thought things through. He came to the conclusion that whomever had left him here meant for him to stay here, while remaining fairly comfortable. He was tempted to pound on the door, but decided to keep his conscious state secret, if his nausea hadn't already announced that he was up. He sniffed and realized that he absolutely reeked. For a moment, he contemplated taking a shower before deciding that he didn't to be naked, and have his eyes full of soap, before learning more about his situation.
As if his thoughts caused his captors to take action, the door opened and a young man walked into the room. The door swung shut behind the man and the lock's click could clearly be heard. There was at least one other person outside. For a moment, he thought about attacking the newcomer, but quickly discarded the notion. For one thing, he had never been a particularly formidable fighter and for another thing, the newcomer looked both larger, and fitter, than he was.
"My name's Brian," the man said, with a tight smile. "And I suppose you have a whole lot of questions. I'll answer what I can, but I'm going to start off with a question of my own. What's your name?"
"Owen," he answered, after deciding that his captors probably had his driver's license and other identification.
"Well, Owen, you might want to brace yourself," Brian told him, claiming the chair. He set the chair next to the bathroom opening and took a seat. "This is going to get very confusing, but I'll be able to prove what I'm saying in an hour or so. Now, some around here believe in breaking a guy into this kind of slow, but I believe in letting you have the whole story, right away, so when you see what you're about to see, you'll know that I've told you the truth."
"You're a werewolf, or as we say, a lycan," Brian paused a few minutes, giving his audience a chance to protest. "You're not denying it, good. That means that you remember what happened last night."
"So I've been out of it for less than a day?" Owen asked.
"We sedated you just after moonrise last night. I'm not going to say how long we drove to get to where we are right now," Jeff told him. "I will tell you that it's about a half hour until sundown, then the moon will rise about an hour after that. It's an almost full moon, so the change will probably hit you again, but we'll be ready for it. If you haven't guessed by now, I'm a lycan, as well."
"So you can change into some giant wolf?"
"We refer to it as embracing the wolf," Brian informed him. "But to answer your question, I can't at this moment. You see the sun is up and something about the sunlight prevents us from making the change. The building we're in doesn't block enough of the…agent…in sunlight to allow me to change at this time. Now, if I were in a deep mine, yes, I could. I'll be able to change after the sun goes down, as well."
"Will the nearly full moon force you to change?"
"I'm glad you asked," Brian answered, with a compassionate grin. "The answer is no, and the reason is that I've been a lycan long enough to change, or to resist changing, at will. You've only been a lycan for a few days, and you're experiencing your first full moon cycle. For at least some time, it varies with each individual, you'll be at the mercy of the wolf within you; you'll change with the moon cycle and you won't be able to control yourself when the wolf takes over."
"That's why we brought you here," Brian continued. "I won't tell you where here is, but you'll see that it's a very rural area. You're surrounded by other lycans, and we'll be able to contain and control you when the wolf takes over. We'll help you to reach a harmony with the wolf inside, so that you can embrace it or reject it as you need."
"You're doing this to help me?" Owen asked, confusion evident on his face.
"Actually no. We're doing this for our own benefit. You see if humanity were to learn that we really exist…well…lets just say that it wouldn't go very well for either the normal humans, or us. I think humanity would feel threatened and attack us and we, of course, would be obligated to fight back. It's best for everyone if we keep a low profile."
"What was with that needle thing that guy shot me with? It turned me back."
"That's the other weakness we have, silver," Brian told him. "If silver comes in contact with your blood, you'll be forced into your human form. Also, you are now very susceptible to silver poisoning. Granted, a human doesn't react well to silver in his bloodstream, but you will react even worse."
"Okay, so all the movies were right about that. Nothing but silver will hurt me?"
"Almost the truth," Brian smiled. "Silver isn't instant death, like on some movies and television shows. Rather, silver is an intense irritant. Being poked by even something as small as a silver needle causes us a great deal of agony. As for other things, accidents, bullets, knives and fists, they injure us, but we heal very quickly. As long as you keep yourself fed, even severe lacerations and broken bones heal in minutes, hours at the worst."
Even in the dim light, Brian could see Owen take on a greenish hue. "I don't much feel like eating," the confused man told the lycan. "I just finished throwing up everything in my stomach."
"That's another adjustment you're going to have to make," Brian chuckled. "You can't eat normal food anymore. You can only take nourishment from blood." Brian paused while the other man turned green again. "It's not as bad as it sounds, you'll get used to it. Your system can't handle the other stuff anymore, so it kicked back everything still in your digestive tract. That's why your stomach made a valiant effort to send your toenails out."
"Eventually, you'll get to the point where you can swallow regular food," Brian continued. "Even though you won't gain any benefit from it, it will just pass right on through. This is one of the last skills you'll need to master before you can leave here."
"Why would I need to fake eating?"
"To make everyone think that you're normal, just like everyone else. It's kind of hard to deal with friends, neighbors and coworkers if they never see you eat. I just came back from ten years in the Army and trust me, my buddies would have known something was up if I didn't dig in every chance I had."
"If we can only consume blood, how did you manage to get it, and not make everyone suspicious?"
"That's a long story," Brian told him. "And it's probably not something we need to get into right now. For now, lets just say that you're going to have to stay here for at least a few years, until you're able to blend in and not be a danger to those around you."
"A few years?" Owen stammered. "B-but what about my parents, my girlfriend? Has anyone told them? Do they know where I am, or that I'm alive?"
"I'm afraid not," Brian informed him, with a sad expression. "They must never know what happened to you, or that you're still alive."
"But…"
"Owen, I know that this is extremely difficult for you. I'm sorry that I can't understand how hard it is, since I was born a lycan and my parents live right here. Please try to understand that everybody benefits by everyone believing that you're gone. You aren't human anymore. I honestly wish that I could make you human again and send you back to your old life, but I just can't. Nobody can. The only thing you can do is make the best of things, and that means coming to grips with what you've become. Like it or not, you've become a very powerful individual; a danger to yourself and those around you."
"This can't be happening to me," Owen moaned, dropping his face into his hands.
"I'm afraid it is. Now, I'm going to leave and come back in about an hour. I suggest you hit the shower, you'll feel better after getting cleaned up. After that, I'll show you around the place and we'll get ready for moonrise."
While Brian was having his conversation with Owen, John was having a decidedly less pleasant conversation with the lycan who had turned the young man. Where Herzl had willingly joined the pack, realizing the wisdom in the pack's attitude, this new guy, Gottfreid, had a different attitude altogether.
"So you live here in comfort," the ragged man snarled at the elder. "While the bloods slaughter your brothers in Europe."
"I've built a life for my pack," John replied, struggling to keep his voice and manner calm. "And I'm offering you that life."
"By shooting me with a silver dart?" Gottfreid demanded. "By dragging me to the devil knows where, shackling me," the man held up his radio receiver shackle. "And telling me you'll shoot me full of silver if I try to leave?"
"I saved your life," John snapped back. "And my pack's, as well. You were being stupid, letting people see you acting up. How long would it have been before one of the bloods figured out what you were, or worse, a human?"
"The only thing the bald sheep are good for are food and underlings," Gottfreid sneered back. "I turned little Owen. How many humans have you turned in the last year? Or have you been too busy daydreaming out here in the countryside to advance your race?"
"I advance my race by taking care of the packmates on this continent," John growled. "Not by jumping into worthless turf wars and convincing myself that I'm superior to my fellow man!"
"You are no better than the bald sheep. You cower here and tell yourself that you're doing the right thing by ignoring your own kin!"
"I'm helping my kin!" John roared.
"Then why don't you lead them against the bloods?" Gottfreid demanded. "Why does this New World Coven still exist!"
"Because even if I crushed it, that would let the humans know about us! Idiot, I can't fight two hundred million humans in the U.S. alone, even if I wanted to!"
"Bah! You're just making excuses! If you were a true elder, like Lucian was, you wouldn't need me telling you this!"
"THAT attitude is what got you chased out of Europe! Tell me, Gottfreid, if you're such the wise leader and commander, why did you clear out of Europe with your tail between your legs?"
"I don't have the power you have here! I was only one, while I've smelled dozens of packmates here. How many do you have scattered, hiding, all through this country? You have the power to do something but you're too cowardly to use it!"
"How do you think we got our numbers, assets and skill? By NOT getting ourselves involved in stupid, pointless fighting, that's how!"
"Excuses, that's all you have! I'll never bow down to you. Better dead with the taste of your enemy's blood in your mouth, than living with the taste of bile and fear!"
"You'll get that chance," John informed him, standing up with a weary sigh and trudging to the fence.
"What do you mean?" Gottfreid demanded. "When do I get this shackle off?"
"You'll get it off tonight," John told him, unlocking the gate and stepping through. "Since you want to face your fate as a lycan, I'll give you that chance. If I were you, I'd finish off the blood and get some rest, you'll need your energy."
John locked the gate behind him and made sure a guard was present to keep an eye on Gottfreid. It was against his nature, both primate and lupine, to do what he was going to do tonight, but he had to protect his pack.
"I see you've taken advantage of the shower," Brian remarked, stepping into Owen's quarters. The lycan chose to not consider the two rooms a prison.
"I can't say that I'm ready to believe everything you told me," the new lycan admitted. "But I thought I might as well be clean."
"Not believing me is a good move," Brian tossed a pair of flip-flops onto the bed next to his charge. "I'd say that you should only believe what you see but in our case, believe half of what you see. Put on the footwear, we're going outside."
"Okay, how do I know you're not taking me off somewhere to kill me?" Owen demanded, pointing at the other man.
"That's actually a fair question," Brian admitted, pointing back at Owen. "You have to ask yourself how I'm benefiting by doing what I'm doing. You're locked up right now so if my kin and I wanted to kill you, we could do it right here. You said you needed answers, this is the quickest way of getting them."
Owen decided that he might as well look around, so he put on the sandals and followed Brian. The self-proclaimed werewolf…lycan…led him down a short hallway and up a flight of steps. A door at the top of the steps let the two men outside, into the evening. Looking around, Owen came to the conclusion that he was at some sort of farm, or ranch. A lifelong city dweller, he didn't really know for sure.
Brian directed him down a sidewalk and gestured for him to climb into the passenger side of a pickup. Brian took a seat behind the wheel while another man jumped into the pickup's bed.
"That's Jeff, by the way," Brian told his passenger, with a gesture at the back. "He's my father."
"I don't believe you," Owen told him, after a moment's thought. "There's no way he's old enough to be your father."
"The aging process slows way down once you become an immortal," Brian grinned back at him, starting up the pickup and driving down a dirt road. Soon, they left the cluster of farm buildings behind and drove perhaps a mile, to where half a dozen men waited near a fence. Brian parked the vehicle and gestured for Owen to climb out. The captive did so and was quickly joined by Jeff and Brian, who led him to the other men. Brian introduced him.
Although Owen was acutely aware of the fact that he was a captive, the men treated him like a guest, shaking his hand and telling him their names. He remembered Dell, Fred, Bob, Carl, Jerry, and Lee. In the short time it took for the men to introduce themselves, the sun retreated even further below the horizon. Brian walked up to the fence and jumped over. The other men, with the exception of Jeff, followed suit. All of the men looked at Owen.
"Go ahead," Brian told him. Owen just looked at the man. The fence was chest high, there was no way he was going to be able to just hop over it, the way the preceding seven men had done.
"You're a lycan now," Brian explained. "You'll be able to jump over the fence with no trouble, but if you want, just grab one of the posts and use it to help you."
Uncertain, Owen followed his instructions and surprised himself by easily jumping over the barrier. Jeff remained outside the fence, which Owen could now see formed one wall of a square enclosure, roughly two hundred yards on a side. Studying his surroundings, Owen realized that a cow cowered in the far corner.
"Okay, the answers start now," Brian told the confused man. "I'll have Carl here demonstrate."
The aforementioned man yanked off his clothing and stood for a moment, naked. Suddenly, his body writhed and grew, forming into one of the monsters that Owen had been trying to convince himself he didn't remember.
"Carl is able to embrace the wolf at will," Brian explained, while Owen stared, slack-jawed. "While in this form, he's much stronger and faster than he is in his human form. Even now, your senses of smell and hearing have been enhanced. Carl, however, now has a wolf's senses in this regard. At this moment, he depends on his sense of smell more than vision. Carl, please demonstrate restraining the wolf."
The great beast that Carl had become stood still and took a deep breath. Moments later, it shrunk and compacted and soon Carl stood naked in front of them again.
"Now, pick any three of these men," Brian told Owen. "The only ones you can't pick are myself and my father."
Owen picked Dell, Bob and Jerry. All three men stripped off their clothing and embraced the wolf, as Carl put his clothing on. Soon, three werewolves stood in the enclosure.
"Now for some demonstrations," Brian told his horrified, yet curious, charge. "Gentlemen, if you will…"
As Owen watched, the three, transformed men showed off their incredible agility, able to vault high over the fence and sprint around the entire enclosure in a matter of seconds. The strength demonstration was even more impressive; any two of the werewolves were able to lift the front end of the pickup completely off of the ground. Owen was so entranced that he didn't notice that the cow was now completely horrified, or the silvery light growing in the eastern sky. As the first moonbeam struck him, however, it seized his attention.
"He's changing!" Brian yelled to his three, human-formed companions. "Help me."
As Owen writhed in pain, the three men pulled the loose clothing off of his body. "Owen," Brian addressed the naked man. "The wolf is rising. Don't fight it, it's going to win. Just go with it, it'll be easier for you."
Owen's pain-contorted face stared at him, even while his body shifted and slowly altered. Brian could tell that he was trying to listen, trying to find some solace. "We'll be here," Brian assured the frightened man. "We'll make sure you don't hurt anybody. Tomorrow morning, you'll wake up in your bed and we'll talk about it."
Despite his pain, Owen managed a slight nod and he relaxed as much as he could while in such pain. Without him resisting, the wolf rose to the fore much faster. Moment's later, a full-grown lycan stood before the rest of the pack.
Brian looked carefully at his charge. Owen didn't have the spark of recognition in his eyes, the way the more experienced lycans did. No, the wolf had taken over completely, at least for now. Owen looked around, gaining his bearings. Brian could tell that he was hungry, needing energy to counter the stress from the last several days. The beast looked at him, clearly not recognizing him. Next, the beast looked over the rest of the kin, recognizing them as his own kind, but not acknowledging any sort of friendship or familiarity. Finally, its eyes fell on the terrified cow.
Owen and the rest of the pack fed well after his first kill. Afterwards, the rest of the lycans led him on a long run over the hills and prairies. They finished the run back at the ranch, where the rising sun subdued Owen's inner wolf. The rest of the kin led the confused, but content man back to his room for a few hours of sleep.
While Brian was introducing Owen to the lycan life, John was having a much less enjoyable experience. As the moon made its appearance over the horizon, two kinsmen ushered Gottfreid into the same yard where he had had his heated discussion with John, earlier. This time, there was no table, no chairs and no pitcher of refreshments. Even as the hotheaded young lycan opened his mouth to protest his shackle, the kinsmen removed it.
"You said that I was a coward and that you had the rightful plan," John addressed him, from the other side of the enclosure. "You said that I should look upon my fellow man, whom you call bald sheep, as food and battle-fodder. You said that I should strike down the bloods. I consider all of these remarks to be both insulting, and a challenge to my leadership. You have one final choice, either apologize for your insolence and submit to my leadership, or face me now, lycan against lycan!"
"I'll never submit to a coward!" Gottfreid snarled.
"Then defend yourself!" John roared back, showing rage for the first time. The lycan elder tore off his clothing and embraced the wolf inside.
Gottfreid didn't bother removing his clothing, he allowed the transformation to shred the flimsy cotton. Soon he was a dark-haired lycan, facing off against a silvery beast. Around the enclosure, several kinsmen and kinswomen also embraced the wolf, but remained outside. Gottfreid understood; this was between him and his opponent. While the remainder of the pack would stay outside the fence, they would rend him if he attempted to flee. It was just as well; he had no intention of fleeing.
The two combatants sized each other up for several, endless seconds. Without warning, Gottfreid hurled himself at the silvery lycan. The dark-haired monster spread his arms wide, seeking to seize his foe and pull the warm body to his slavering jaws for a killing bite. Yet, his claws met no body and he found himself sprawled on the ground, with a muzzle full of dust.
Gottfreid had been in enough scrapes, he knew that lying still was inviting death. He snapped to his feet and spun, locating his opponent and setting himself. It was then that the scent of his blood reached his muzzle. A moment later, he felt wetness along his left flank and realized how much trouble he was in. The cowardly elder had ghosted away from his claws, opened up his flank and tripped him.
Lesson learned. Gottfreid slid towards his opponent again, this time with more control. The angry lycan unleashed a series of claw-swipes at the elder, trying to shred his opponent, but the silvery lycan wouldn't cooperate. Every time Gottfreid swung at him, his tormentor extended a forepaw and blocked Gottfreid's strike, by digging his claws into Gottfreid's forelimbs. In a matter of minutes, Gottfreid was gasping for breath and his forelimbs had been shredded, the flesh hanging in bloody tatters.
Desperate, Gottfreid lunged at his opponent again. At this close range, the elder couldn't avoid the blow. Yet, once again, Gottfreid's caught only air. The crafty elder dropped to his back and brought his hind legs under his opponent's rump, sending the younger lycan flying over him while raking the hothead's torso with his claws. John sprang to his feet and spun to watch his opponent struggle to his feet.
Blood was pouring out of the younger lycan's body, clearly he couldn't stand much longer. John relaxed his stance slightly, a universal signal that he would still accept his opponent's submission. Gottfreid would have none of it; he bared his fangs one last time and lumbered forward in a final charge. This time, John took the offensive.
The silvery lycan slashed his claws down upon the oncoming muzzle, opening flesh once again and leaving his opponent stunned on the ground. John reached down and used a single claw to open an artery in Gottfreid's neck. Showing his strength, the elder lycan lifted his opponent over his head and arched his head back, catching the last of Gottfreid's lifeblood. Finally, the opponent vanquished, John dropped the lifeless body to the ground and emitted a triumphant howl, a howl that the rest of the pack joined in.
John basked in a single moment of conquest, before taking a deep breath and returning to his human form. The rest of the pack quickly assumed their human forms, as well.
"Burn his body," John ordered, tears forming in his eyes. "And record his name as a gallant, but misguided kinsman. I'll meet with the full staff tomorrow, two hours after sunup."
While his kinsmen rushed to comply, John stalked off alone to try to come to grips with what he had just done.
Again, I must thank everyone who has stuck with me for this, my first Underworld Fanfic. I must especially thank everyone who has taken the time to post a review, and/or contact me via PM. The suggestions and comments are most helpful.
My fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his continued beta services.
Until my next update, best wishes;
daccu65
