Earth and Fang

This deep into the ancient maintenance halls of the disused subway system, air ventilation was not sufficient for a fire. Clara Hailey tightened the ratty length of knitting she called a scarf around her weather-worn face and surveyed the other piles of tattered, filthy clothing huddling together for warmth in the dank, dark environment humanity had been pushed into. Her raw fingers squeezed at the frayed ends of her scarf, as telltale sign of her stress. She did that a lot lately. The cold penetrated her into the marrow, as she had very little flesh on her bones to retain body heat. This was no way to live. Only two decades ago, humanity had been the undisputed masters of the world. She had been a child then, but she still remembered the pinnacle of their species. Now there was a whole generation for whom those were only abstract stories.

Sure, they had managed the Earth with foolhardy recklessness, but it had still been theirs. They had more rightful claim to it than the aliens who had all but exterminated them in less than a year. Up on the surface, the stuff of nightmares that had no right to even be real, let alone running rampant on Earth, were wantonly using humanity’s buildings, consuming Earth’s resources. The Earth itself, as if in protest to these alien invaders, had darkened, its lands drying up and losing fertility, its animals growing scarce. Up there wasn’t much better than down here, not that that was very comforting.

She looked across the hallway and a man sharing his rations with his wife. That man was Commander Harris, who she admired most in the world. Few people had lost as much as he. Formerly a military general, he had seen his armed forces wiped out, his children slaughtered, and had even lost an eye. And yet, he had not lost any of the stern intensity that he radiated, even as an bald, ghostly-white old man who had aged three decades in the last two. No human was more determined to liberate their world than he, and without a formal armed forces, he had managed to band together ragtag survivors and turn them into a fighting force.

He had given Clara more than a life, he had given her a reason to keep living. He gave them all hope. Their eyes met and he gave her a nod of assurance. Which, to her surprise, she had needed more than she thought. A solemn quiet wrapped around the survivors, punctuated only by the occasional cough or the cry of a baby which was quickly silenced. Even if the aliens couldn’t hear them all the way down here, no one liked to take any chances.

Then the clangor alarm broke Clara’s reverie. Dogs barked a frenzy and guns started going off. That only meant one thing.

Even as she stood and spun, bringing her weapon to bear, alien troopers stormed in: big, green-gray, segmented eyes glowing in the darkness. That made them easier targets, but the sheer number of them was enough to break even the most battle-hardened human’s spirit. This was not an invasion, it was an extermination force intended to steamroll them. No was no point in counting the legion. She rooted her weapon into her shoulder and started blasting at the aliens with their own laser technology, stolen from a previous excursion.

Those who were not armed broke out into panic and retreat, flying down the tunnels with desperate screams. She and her fellow soldiers stood their ground against the aliens, but it only made a small dent in the horde. One by one her comrades fell. They all expected to die, and they would die with dignity—taking as many of the bastards down with them as possible.

That was her resolve, until felt something grab at her leg and brought her rifle down on instinct. It was Commander Harris… or rather, the burnt husk of him. Clara wanted to look away. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, but for his sake, she looked him in the eye. She owed him that much. He spat gushes of blood out of his mouth and with his final reserve of energy handed her his own weapon. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “Protect… the civilians. Protect… Sally.”

She did not argue. If there was any hope for the human race, it lay in the children, and she was duty-bound to keep them alive. She yanked something from her belt and pressed it in his hands. “Commander Harris,” she said. It was all that needed to be said.

He waited until she was sprinting down the hallway with the other remaining soldier before pulling the pin on the grenade and taking out as many of the alien bastards with him as possible. Harris had been like a father to her. Helping him go out on his terms was the least she could do for him.

As she wound her way through the tunnels, navigating in the pitch-black with only familiarity and instinct to guide her, she could hear the hordes approaching. But there was something else. A growl, heavy breathing. She spun about to face what she expected to be an advance scout, but saw nothing.

Paranoia, Hailey, Harris’ voice echoed in her head.  It can keep you alive, but only if you don’t let it slow you down.

She continued running.

Ahead, she could hear the desperate cries of children. She rounded the corner… only to find herself in a large room, and the door buried under tons of rubble from a cave in. Four children and two women, Sally Harris and the children’s mother, looked at her with desperate hope, but there was nothing Hailey could do. The alien horde was advancing on them.

She handed the mother a pistol. “If I don’t get us out of this, you know what to do.” She looked at her with wide-eyed incomprehension, but Mrs. Harris took the gun and nodded with grim resolve.

Hailey dropped to one knee and shouldered her rifle for what was very likely the final time. It hummed to life in her hands, feeling warm and comforting.

The glowing eyes rounded the corner, and she didn’t hesitate.

Even bottlenecked, the horde continued to pile in. Finally Hailey had to give up hope.

“Do it,” she shouted. “Now!”

“NO!” came a voice. Gruff, raspy, but human. From behind the aliens emerged another set of eyes that reflected the light from Hailey’s flashlight for only a split-second. The aliens turned, forgetting her for a moment. But she didn’t forget them, and continued to fire on their backs. But something else was mowing them down. She heard alien screams, and inhuman snarl, and the sound of flesh being shredded like fabric. Something massive and gray whisked across her light and she tried to follow it, but it was moving too fast.

Whatever it was, it was making short and brutal work of the aliens. Hailey felt warm blood splatter across her face. A child whimpered in fearful hope, as the alien screeching died down. Only heaving breathing remained.
Hailey focused her beam on the source of the sound… and almost shot at what she saw. It was monstrous, inhuman… but also earthly. It stood upright like a man, but its body was covered in grey fur soaked in orange blood and it had the head of a wolf. Werewolf!?

And it charged right for her.

She screamed and unloaded the last of her ammunition on the monster. Sally contributed her own shots with the pistol, until it clicked with emptiness. But Hailey hadn’t exactly packed silver bullets, and the creature’s body spat the bullets back out and the holes sealed themselves. She stood there, mouth agape, as the werewolf caught its breath. She pulled her dagger out and held it to her throat. She did not want to give this monster the satisfaction of killing her.

But he was upon her before she could do the deed, and slapped the knife away. She felt jagged fangs dig into her shoulder, and she abandoned decorum and screamed. She kicked, hit, clawed at the monster, but it accepted her abuse and held her tight, grabbing her by the shoulders and lifting her into the air. The families behind her were paralyzed by fear. They didn’t move, and when one of the children tried, he growled a warning.

So this was it. They had been saved just to be something else’s meal.

But it did not eat her. Clara‘s blood turned to fire and spread the burning sensation across her body.

It finally released her, and she fell to the ground, onto her hands and knees. It was then that she realized her hands had begun to sprout fur.

The werewolf lowered down to a crouch and sniffed her. And then, in a chilling but articulate voice, began to speak. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“Bastard!” she growled in defiance.

“No, really, I am. My name’s Saul.”

So what?

“…My kind used to have laws against turning someone against their will. It was punishable by death.”

Well, she fully intended to enforce that law if he had the gall to stay standing there when she was done changing.

“…But those laws were for a world dominated by humans. We’re at war now against a common enemy and I had no choice.”

You could have chosen to ask first! she wanted to say, but found herself incapable as her skull rebuild itself in her likeness. Her teeth, her nose, everything surged forward. It didn’t hurt so much as it reminded her of her experience coming to while getting her wisdom teeth removed and vaguely feeling someone pulling her teeth out.

“…I’m giving you the power to fight these bastards and help me chase them off this planet. You’re a soldier. You know this is necessary.”

The damnable thing was… he was right. He had scared her, but he had also saved her and given her a gift. As her body took a new shape and exploded out of its ragged clothing, she stood on shaking feet, now restructured to carry her weight on her toes. It took a moment to adjust to the new center of balance, and she was not too proud to accept a helping hand from the other werewolf. She looked down at her fur-covered body and felt her muscles brimming with energy, singing for expenditure.
He was right. She had the power to reclaim the Earth and begin a new age for mankind—the age of the wolf. It was time to evolve.

The two werewolves turned to the cowering civilians watching them. Saul stepped towards them, but she put her hand out and snarled a warning. She was still their protector, and just because he had given her power, the fact remained that he had been brutal in his delivery. She did not trust him. “Let them chose,” she said, then turned to them. She tried to smile, curling her lips upward but inadvertently revealing fangs that gleamed in the light of her fallen rifle. “Who wants to join the new resistance?”

Sally Harris was the first to step forward, but not the only one.