Stories

Lycaon, Part Seven, by Garret Schuelke

#lycaon #scifi #werewolf

Gareth zipped up his new sweatshirt. “Your brother’s clothes fit me perfectly,” he said, looking in the mirror. “This is way better than my hoodie. You sure he doesn’t want them?”

“All those clothes were going to Goodwill, so don’t worry about it,” Stephanie said, loading the shotgun.

Gareth unzipped the black sweatshirt and looked himself over in the mirror. He wore a grey, sleeveless shirt, grey cargo pants, and black, roughed up combat boots. He saw Stephanie walk up behind him.

“Are you sure you don’t need more shells?” she asked, handing him the shotgun.

“Nah, I think you packed enough.” Gareth walked downstairs.

“Hold on!” Stephanie said, walking past him. “I forgot something in the laundry room.”

She veered left. Gareth walked through the living room and out the door. He stood outside and breathed in the fresh air.

Stephanie came out. “I washed this too,” she said, handing him his mask. “I couldn’t believe how bad it smelled.”

Gareth laughed and wrapped the mask around his head. He rested the shotgun on his shoulder.

“Nice pose,” Stephanie said, leaning up against the door frame. “You really do look like a superhero.”

Gareth grinned. “In Chicago, I guess I kinda am.” He snapped his fingers. “I forgot to tell you my codename!”

Stephanie’s eyes widened.

“I call myself Godan. Look me up, I’m sure there are some articles about me, though they like to refer to me as ‘The Grey Wolf of Chicago’” Godan shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how it started, though. I never called myself that, but I’ve gotten used to it.

“NOW you have to come back, just so you can tell me what ‘Godan’ means.”

“I’ve lived in Chicago for awhile now. I’ve dealt with all sorts of freaks and monsters. Lycaon isn’t really that different.”

“Except that you think he made you like this.”

Godan stretched his legs. “That’s what my inner detective says. See ya later.”

Godan ran towards the woods. Stephanie watched him until he disappeared into the trees. She shut the door and locked it.

Godan walked down a truck trail. On both sides of him were wolves. He cocked the first slug. The wolves followed him.

Up ahead, he spotted an open field. On the left was a deer blind. Oh, hello perfect ambush spot, Godan thought. He stopped in front of the blind. “All right, nothings popping out—“

“I’m very insulted that you would bring a weapon to our fight,” Lycaon said, “but after throwing you around, I really shouldn’t blame you for not wanting to engage in an honorable fight.”

Godan grinned, turning to face Lycaon and his pack. Callisto was standing next to him. She nodded.

“If there’s two things that living in Chicago has taught me,” Godan said, “it’s that the whole ‘honorable fight’ concept is bullshit, and that you do whatever is necessary to win.”

Lycaon bared his fangs and growled.

“What’re you mean mugging me for? You’re the one who sent one of his freaks behind his daughters back to take me out when I was recovering.” Godan winked at Callisto.

“Three,” Lycaon said, holding his fingers up. “That’s three of my brothers you’ve slaughtered.” Lycaon clenched his fists. “MY family.”

Godan shook his head, laughing. The three other werewolves stepped in front of the pack. They were growling, ready to attack. Lycaon pointed at Godan. “YOUR family!”

Godan tightened his mask. “Rabies must have really fucked your brain up. I’m not in any way part of your “family.” The werewolves moved closer. He held the shotgun up with one hand. “My name is Godan. Now, let’s get it popping!”

Lycaon roared. The three werewolves charged at Godan. He leapt to the side and elbowed the werewolf on the left in the face, sending it flying into the bushes. Godan turned around and shot the werewolf in the middle, blowing a hole in its chest. Blood splattered the werewolf behind it as it dropped.

Lycaon growled, shaking with fury. Callisto snapped her fingers and the pack started to sneak away. The werewolf Godan elbowed charged at him. He back flipped over it and blew its head off. The final werewolf leapt over his fallen kin. Godan, who noticed a tree stand when he back flipped, jumped onto it. He took aim and shot the werewolf in the shoulder. It howled and collapsed.

“You have the honor of eating my final slug, Lycaon,” Godan said, aiming at Lycaon.

He fired, and Lycaon dodged. Oh yeah, he’s really fast too, Godan thought. He heard rustling underneath him. The werewolf he splattered jumped up at him. Godan grabbed the shotgun by the barrel and swung it down on the werewolf’s skull, sending it down into the brush.

Godan looked up in time to see Lycaon appear in front on him. He landed on the stand. The floor caved in. They landed on top of the brush. Godan kicked Lycaon off, and slashed him. Lycaon staggered back, covering his chest with his hand.

“I might just have a chance against you now that I’m at full strength,” Godan said, running past him. “Let’s find someplace else to fight. I’d prefer a more civilized environment.”

Godan flipped him off, and dashed down the trail. Lycaon followed.


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