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A collection of various short stories and poetry. |
| To save his allies, a soldier must make a hard choice. Can his friend help? Rex watched as the turret of the tank turned towards him. Fear came to him. Not of death, but of worse. He waved his left arm, to signal the tank to stop, as around from a rifle flew past him, barely missing him. “What’s the trouble, Big Dog?” a voice came from the radio on Rex’s left shoulder. Awkwardly, Rex took the speaker off. “Sniper, with an RPG launcher, in the place of worship, highest window. There’s innocent civilians inside the place. My Partner’s dead, and my right arm and leg are badly messed up.” An RPG round flew at the tank, detonating near it. Shrapnel flew all over. The tank tried to move, but was unable to. “Blasted RPG took out the treads or something,” said someone in the tank. “We can’t move. We need to get out.” “Which part of sniper did you not hear?” asked the first person. “Stick your head out and it will get blown off.” The eighteen foot tall werewolf poked his head out from behind the building he was using as cover, only to drop pack down, a rifle round zipping past him. “Could use some food here,” he said. “I’ll get you a spam sandwich if we make it back to base,” the first speaker said. “What happened?” “Just a routine patrol,” Rex said. “Noticed something suspicious at the place of worship, decided to see if the elder, or whatever, knew what was up. That’s when they fired the first RPG. Shrapnel hit us. Mike took a length of rebar through the heart and lung, and large chunks of concrete broke my arm and leg.” “Sorry to hear that,” the tank commander said. “I’m Jerry. What’s your name?” “I’m called Rex,” said Rex. “If I can get fifty kilograms of meat, my injuries should heal up.” “Got some canned meat, but I doubt it will be enough,” said Jerry. “Never was a fan of Spam,” said Rex. “I’d settle for a goat, or a sheep.” “Sorry wolf, but no sheep or goat for you near us,” said Jerry. “Acknowledged,” said Rex. He lowered the radio. “There is fifty kilos nearby,” said a familiar voice. “Well, more like a hundred.” Rex turned his head, and found himself looking at Mike, standing up, with the rebar through his chest. Rex blinked, and looked away. “Impossible. You’re dead.” “Well, you’re right there,” said Mike, as he walked up to Rex. “I am dead, and you’re still alive.” “You can’t be real,” said the large werewolf. “Ghosts don’t exist.” “Let’s go with hallucination brought on by stress, injury, and the death of your close friend then,” said Mike. Rex turned the other way. “I know what you’re saying, and the answer is no,” he said. “I won’t eat you to heal myself.” “What’s going on Rex?” Jerry asked. “Got someone on another line?” Rex grabbed the radio. “Something like that,” he said. “Conscience is arguing with my more primitive instincts as to a possible source of food.” “What would that be?” Jerry asked. “You part cat? We found some tuna.” Rex chuckled. “Have you ever worked with our sort before?” “Not before this assignment,” said Jerry. “I’m just lucky our radios’ frequencies are good enough to match.” “Humans that get partnered with my sort got a certain nickname that’s more of an insult towards them,” said Rex. “The other soldiers use it to belittle them. Us wolves get the praise, while our partners are looked down upon.” “What’s the name?” Jerry asked. “Dog Chow,” said Mike, as he came to Rex’s face. “You can say it.” “They call them Dog Chow,” Rex said, into the radio. “Joke is, since they aren’t good enough for a regular canine, at least they can be treats for the talking ones in an emergency. I hate it.” “I see,” said Jerry. Another RPG hit the tank. “Blast it!” Jerry shouted. “They knocked over the tea kettle, and it was a good brew too!” Rex had to chuckle. “You okay in there?” “For now,” said Jerry. “Tea time’s just not right without tea though. Rex, you do what you got to do. I’ve heard my share of stories. Pop one of those dye pills down his throat – purple would be a good one. Then, after your arm and leg are fixed, you find that arsehole, and you shove a yellow one down their throat before swallowing him yourself – I have a feeling you’ll be needing seconds, and a way to tell the difference between them.” Rex looked over at Mike’s body, and saw him standing over it. “Well, you heard him,” said Mike. “Jerry knows the score. I’m dead, and they will also be dead unless someone takes that guy out.” Tears streamed down the werewolf’s face. “Mike, you’re my friend.” Mike nodded. “I know. We’ll play fetch again someday. I’ll see about getting us a big yard to play in.” A smile came to the werewolf’s lips. “You always did like talking about that religious stuff.” Painfully, Rex crawled over to the body, placed his hand upon it, gripped the rebar with his teeth, and pulled the metal out, dropping the blood-covered rod next to the body. “Anything else, friend?” he asked. Mike’s eyes opened, and his lips began to move. “Take care of Mary and Steve. Tell them that I love them.” “I will,” said Rex. Another RPG slammed by them, but Rex managed to drag the body of his friend behind safety with him. “Sorry about this next part.” He removed the blood soaked uniform from the body, being as respectful as he could. He then pulled out a colored dye pill case, pulled out the purple one, and shoved it down Mike’s throat. Then, he closed his eyes, carefully held the body of his dead friend, and starting head first, he began to swallow his meal. It didn’t take Mike long to enter his resting place. That was when Rex’s stomach became flooded with acids, and rapid digestion kicked in, kicking Rex’s healing factor into hyperdrive. The werewolf howled in pain as his bones knitted themselves back together, along with his other unmentioned, and more minor, injuries, save one – an aching in his heart. From that ache came a type of anger. There was anger from his carelessness. There was anger at his friend’s death. There was anger at needing to eat him to heal. Most importantly, there was anger at the one who had killed Mike. A growl escaped Rex’s throat as he opened his eyes. He wasn’t going to let the one that had killed his packmate escape from his teeth and claws. He ran. An RPG exploded near him, but he felt nothing, his body healing. His standard issue weapon had been ruined, but he still had his teeth and claws. A bullet went through his shoulder. Again, the wound healed. A good meal could aid in healing for a while. A hundred kilos of meat could keep repairing his flesh. Mike had been that meal. Mike had been that meat. Rex crashed through the door of the place of worship. The worshippers were all hiding, to avoid being harmed from gunfire and other such things. ^Is that a demon, mother?^ a child asked in their local language. ^Just stay down,^ the mother replied. ^We don’t want one of them after us.^ Rex didn’t blame any of them. He probably did look like a demon to them. He walked through the place, on all fours, avoiding anything he knew to be sacred to the locals, like the candlestick thing, or that special cloth, or anything that looked important, or valuable at any rate. He walked up to the place’s elder, his breathing having calmed down by this point. ^Where are they?^ he asked, in the local tongue. The elder looked at him, and then they looked at the corner. Rex looked, and saw a trap door up to an attic or whatever. ^Thanks.^ He looked at it – it would be a tight squeeze, but he wasn’t going to turn around after coming this far. Positioning himself, he sprung up through the door, breaking it open, only to be met by a hail of bullets. Thankfully, he managed to pull himself down just in time, only receiving some superficial scratches that healed up. ^I’m giving you a chance to surrender,^ he yelled up at the hole. ^Otherwise, when I come down, you’ll be in a full body suit.^ ^You speak our language pretty well, demon,^ the sniper said. ^Those non-believers don’t even understand it.^ ^Let’s get one thing clear, I’m not a demon,^ Rex shouted. ^I don’t even care about religion anyways. Fact is, I’m here because you killed my friend. Anything else is just a minor detail after that.^ ^I saw what you did to his body,^ the sniper said. ^Ate him like he was just a baby goat. Did he taste good?^ ^Surrender now, and you’ll be treated fairly,^ said Rex. ^Otherwise, you’ll end up in a body suit – real question is if you’ll be brought back up for a shower, or if you’ll end up dying a painful death? Which will it be?^ ^You’re too heavy to even come up here anyways, as you’d fall through the floor, and land on those foolish worshipers, crushing them,^ the sniper said. ^Ah, one RPG round left. It should be enough to finish off that tank!^ Rex looked at the elder, who was looking at him. Rex pointed at him, then pointed at certain people, and then pointed over at another section of the place. The elder nodded in understanding. The man went amongst the worshipers, and began having them to move, quietly. Rex sprung up through the opening, barely dodging a burst of gunfire to his face, though his arm and shoulder, and part of his side had a few holes, which healed up. He looked at his enemy, a human male wearing the clothing of a local, but no insignia, or anything that could be seen as anything resembling a uniform – not even an armband indicating that they belonged to a group. In short, the person was an Unlawful Combatant, at the very rate. Of course, there were some rules that still had to be followed. That was when he noticed something else on the man – a remote detonator. The man noticed this, and went for it. Rex lunged, and swung his claws. The man screamed, because Rex’s claws bad sliced through both the man’s hand, and the detonator, making it useless. ^Surrender now, and I’ll take you to a Medic,^ said Rex. ^Might be able to fix that hand.^ The man growled, and pulled out a handgun. Rex swung his hand back, using just enough force to knock the gun out of the man’s hand. That was when he grabbed the man, pinning his arms to his sides, forced a yellow pill down the man’s throat, and swallowed him, much like a wild wolf would. Once in the stomach, Rex felt the man start to struggle. ^You are my prisoner,^ he said. ^Cease struggling, and you will be just fine. Do not attempt to escape. Do not use any weapons. Do no-^ That was when Rex felt a sharp pain. “Shit.” He looked at his stomach, and saw the injury healing up. ^Drop the weapon now! Do not attempt to cut your way out! Do not stab anything while you’re inside me!^ There was another stabbing, to stomach and kidney, which he felt heal up. ^Listen! Don-^ There was another stabbing pain, this time to his lung, quickly followed by a stabbing to his other lung. He collapsed, his temporary healing capabilities all used up, as the man kept stabbing in panic. His body sought a potential source of fuel, and found it, in the form of 75 kilos worth of human meat, already in the stomach. The stomach filled with digestive acids. Rex could hear the man scream, as the acids did their work. For a moment, Rex felt a small amount of pity for the man. But, given what the man had done, that pity went away. Soon, the screams silenced, and Rex’s body went to work healing itself. Once he was well, Rex stood back up on all fours, headed to the opening, and carefully climbed down. He saw the elder come up to him. ^The mad one said that he had planted a bomb under the floorboards,^ the elder said. ^I figured something was up when I saw the detonator,^ said Rex. ^I destroyed it, but don’t go up there until a bomb squad checks things out. That being said, you can walk out of here now. I took care of him.^ ^What about the body?^ the elder asked. ^I surmise that you’ve killed him.^ ^He killed his own self in his foolishness to try to escape my stomach, by repeatedly stabbing me,^ said Rex. ^Not a good idea to do such things.^ ^I see,^ the elder said. ^Mind if I say a prayer for their soul?^ ^Go ahead,^ said Rex. ^Could you also say one for my friend? Without him, I wouldn’t have noticed the trouble – he noticed that the place was quiet, instead of lively, like it usually is. I never was much into religion. He was though. He knew that something was wrong. He died trying to save you.^ ^We will honor him in our prayers,^ the elder said. ^And you.^ ^Thank you.^ Rex started to leave. ^What is your name?^ the elder asked. Rex chuckled, as he looked at the elder. “Rex.” ^The military named you a word for king?^ the elder asked. Rex smiled. ^My friend’s son did. Better than Assault Fighter 1635.^ The elder smiled. ^The words of a child, often have a grain of wisdom in them.^ Rex nodded, and walked away. A few hours later, Rex was sitting on a toilet seat for werewolves his size, with a bucket under it. The contents of the bucket were purple. “Purple fits you Mike,” he muttered. “You always were the religious one.” “Funny, but my father always said that I wouldn’t amount to crap,” said Mike’s voice. “Looks like I’m the big shit now.” Rex chuckled. “You aren’t shit to me. More like an arm and a leg.” “Make sure that you swap the bucket when the color changes,” said Mike. “I don’t want any of that one’s shit touching my shit.” Rex chuckled, as he looked over at a couple of full buckets, and some empty ones. “I still got a little bit to go yet. See you around some day.” “Make sure you wipe,” Mike’s voice said. “I don’t want to be hanging into your ass any longer than needed.” “I don’t blame you,” said Rex. “Good bye, Dog Toy.” Rex heard Mike’s voice chuckle, as it faded away. “Always liked that one.” “You did,” said Rex, as he noticed a change in the color. He then quickly swapped the now full bucket with an empty one, and the process started again. This time, yellow started filling the bucket. “Well, if it isn’t the arshole that got himself killed. I’ll ask the elder for your name when we bury you, extra deep. I hope that there’s a place for you that’s extra hot.” There was silence from the bucket. “Being quiet, hu?” Rex asked. “That’s alright – didn’t want to listen to you anyways.” He then picked up a magazine, and started reading it. He then heard a thud, glanced down, and saw the knife in the bucket. It had held up better than its wielder. “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that pain in the ass anymore.” He went back to reading, as his body could handle the rest. It has been a hard day with an even harder choice. This though, was the easy part. |
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