13
We crouched in the gathering gloom, all senses alert. The murmur of the two men softly talking was the only sounds breaking the silence. I could smell the nervous sweat dripping from Paul's brow and I silently cursed myself anew.
How could I have said that to him? The haunted look in his eyes struck me to the core and I realized, finally, it wasn't Paul I had been mad at all these years. It was myself.
I looked over at him, tension clear in his posture. I wonder if this was how he looked, waiting those agonizing hours, hoping that somehow, Rick had made it out alive, but knowing in his heart he was gone.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, from inside the house, followed closely by a terrifying roar. Paul swayed, catching himself against a tree.
"Go," he hissed, pushing himself upright and slipping through the bracken.
We slunk through the brush to the undergrowth to the edge of the clearing. The two men had fallen silent, heads turned toward the open door. Before we could take aim, a chilling howl rose from inside the house. A wave of dark figures crashed through the doorway, barreling over the two guards. Their cries of surprise turned to shrieks of pain. They flipped over, clawing at the ground as they were dragged back into the house.
"What the hell?" I whispered as the shadowy figures spilled out into the woods. One rose up in front of us, lean and shaggy, eyes wild and savage. He seemed to sniff the air, thin lips pulling back to reveal pronounce incisors.
"Get going, Freddie," a larger shadow said, stepping up behind him. "They're not your quarry."
Freddie snorted and vanished into the growing gloom.
Something about his voice triggered a memory.
"Steve?" I whispered.
"Hey, Mark," he said, his features becoming clearer.
"But, you're...," I stammered.
"What? Dead?" he said with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Or what passes for dead with us. Though this is the first time I've left Grandpapa since it happened."
"What...what are you doing here, then," Paul asked.
"'Cause of that cub of yours," he chuckled. "He's...well, I'm not really sure what to make of him."
"What do you mean?" Cliff asked.
"Think he was trying to...snag Rick. Ended up with more than he expected," he said, gesturing toward the woods, where sounds of screams were beginning to erupt.
"Are those...all...?" Mike stammered.
"Us?" he said, shaking his head. "Somehow, he latched on to pretty much every were who has...passed on. Keep a close eye on your cub," he said seriously, turning to Paul. "Wish I could have with my last one."
His expression saddened as he turned to look into the woods.
"That's kind of why I'm here," he said to me. "He's going to need your help."
"Who?" I asked.
"Me," a familiar voice said as a large figure stepped from the house.
"Oh, God! Gene!" I cried.
It was him, but he wasn't....
"We don't have time for that," he said urgently. "I need you to come with me. Keith should recognize you two. You need to make sure he's safe. I don't know if he's enough like us already for them to leave him alone."
I looked at Paul and he nodded. We followed Gene and Steve up into the hills.