(Round 5)

Chapter 32: The beast within by SlaYo.

Within moments all hell would break loose in the quiet village of Greenthorpe. No one on this battlefield knew if they would live to see another day. They might never see the faces of their friends and loved ones, the people they left back home. No additional support would show up, nobody but the four people that had the will to fight. Those four people that did not even realize the graveness of this situation and had never seen an undead before nor ever even had to think about it.
Tom Bradhurst felt betrayed by them and felt out of place as a leader. He realized however, that this was no time to mope. He inspected them, they had the look of four warriors hardened by battle and that could come to good use. Even if it looked as if everything was against them, they could die here tonight. “…Susan.” He mumbled when he realized that he might never be able to say a last goodbye.
“Are we going to stand around here while they try to save our town, or are we going to join them?” The shortest of the two man had two long streaks of furless skin over the back of his head. His face, half hidden behind a large, smoldering cigar as he kept a firm grip on his semi-automatic assault rifle. Tom shook his head, seeing these four, strong people in front of him gave him a confidence boost which was just the thing he needed right now. One of them carried a heavy looking gun that he recognized as a sniper rifle. “You, position yourself in the bell tower over there.” Tom pointed towards the tall tower standing next to the town hall. It overlooked the entire town and would be the perfect place for a sniper to hide in. “And you three, come with me. And hurry, I can hear that the fighting has already started.”

‘Darn it Tom, what’s taking you so long?’ Tony thought to himself.
He took a look around at his brothers in arms; Michelle’s body looked as if it could not take much more. A patch of skin fell off of her and landed on the ground in front of them. Alexander and Louie seemed to be communicating through sign language. He had no idea what they were saying but they seemed concentrated on something other than their personal dislike towards each other for a change. He could not help but notice that his hands were shaking, he could not use his left arm yet and he was still pondering over what Alexander had told him before. He had never fought the undead; he was skilled with his guns and in hand to hand combat. Not that he was going to engage a wolf in hand to hand combat, let alone dozens of them. Several clouds appeared in the sky, but none of them covered the moon yet. Alexander had told him earlier that a werewolf loses a lot of its strength when the full moon disappears. He looked at Michelle again; she was giving him a quick wink and a thumbs up. She did a good job at hiding her anxiety and the small gesture made him feel better.

The ancient werewolf that appeared to be the leader was holding on to the red flag and dozens of werewolves were standing in front of them. A feeling in his gut told him this was only a first attack wave. Three of the werewolves came running towards the small and very outnumbered group of warriors. Their teeth bared and thick string of slime dripping from their gross mouths. It had begun.

Gary Parker lay restless in his bed. He had been haunted by unpleasing dreams of the past.
Of the smell of his mother’s hair and the way she used her smile to bring him to silence when he was being a brat. The monster inside of him did not give him a lot of peace, but every now and then it was dormant and left him reminded of who he had been before.
He kicked the covers off of his bed, rolled around a few times and then put them back on five minutes later, and again, and again. Somewhere out there he had sent an army of wolves after a group of people that might pose a threat one day, a threat to Bruhn, a threat to him. He dared not to think about how he really felt about all of this, about the relief of someone did plant a bullet in his head. The monster would make him go through terrible pain again, as it always did when he had these feelings. He had learned to hide his feelings and emotions, but he had a bit more difficulty keeping control of himself on this particular night. His mother, his friends, these strangers who meant no harm to any decent human being. Why was this happening? His thoughts got cut short by an excruciating pain that soared through his head. ‘Calm down Gary, we had best put your soul to sleep now.’ Gary’s eyes lit up for a split second and with a dark grimace on his face he let his head sink deep into his pillow before he fell into a deep sleep.

The enemy had invaded their home and they would all defend it, or be slain trying. The fiercest of the wolves reached out one of its sharp claws in an attempt to slash through Tony’s neck. His plan was thwarted by Alexander, who shot a bullet through the wolves paw, with perfect accuracy.
The beast let out a shriek of pain and the first blood of the night had been spilled.
‘Thanks.’ Tony said softly. He raised his gun to level it with the werewolf’s forehead. He averted his eyes and quickly pulled the trigger and again when he noticed the beast was still moving. His first kill, without hesitation; this would surely show Alexander that he wasn’t just a rookie, still wet behind the ears. He did not have a lot of time to enjoy the satisfaction this moment brought to him.
The werewolves had witnessed one of their brethren being killed by the enemy. The oldest wolf of the first wave stood covered in pieces of brain and spats of blood and let out a cry. “Kill them all.”

Michelle felt a sense of pride soar through her as she watched her new friend tighten his grip on his blaster. She did not know what was to come of any of them. They were heavily outnumbered and were not to expect any support from the refugees who were safely hidden away inside the mansion. In all of the chaos and confusion she knew one thing, Tony had, in a way, already won. He conquered his fear and fired away at the monsters. Everything had gone so fast. She had a job, a home and somewhat of a life before she let herself get bitten by Tier. A lonely life, but that was still ten times better than an unlife. A vampire killed her brother and in the confusion and panic that followed, she had made a choice. She would kill the vampire even if it cost her, her life, which it had, sweet irony.
Michelle could not hate Tier for converting her into one of his own just as Louie had not been able to hate Estella. The undead turtle had given her the gift of immortality. She might have liked it even better if things did not have to be this messy, but still. A werewolf came storming towards her, drool flung through the air and specs of slime landed in her fur. The young girl was caught unaware and with one powerful strike, the werewolf took off her right arm. She did not feel any pain, for her central nerve system had shut down together with her heart. The same thing had not happened with her emotions. Whereas she had thought of zombies as hollow caskets devoid of any feeling, this idea about her undead brethren had changed the moment she joined them. She was filled with hate, hate towards this wolf that chipped away at her former beauty. She had enough to deal with at the moment and the few seconds of hesitation on the werewolf’s side when it noticed that it was dealing with a zombie was enough for her. She grabbed the beast by the jaw and tore it from its face. The werewolf sank down to its knees in front of her. It wanted to strike her again, unable to see, but was too late as Michelle had grabbed its neck and pulled his head clean off. The terrible sound of the flesh and muscles ripping apart was gut wrenching. “There seem to be more benefits to this then the mortality alone.” She told herself while she picked her arm up from the ground and placed it against her joint. The bone and dead tissue regenerated steadily, crawling upwards like a blob of paint spreading itself across an empty canvas. “Hurry up, Thomas.” She heard Louie shout from across the battlefield. He was appearing and disappearing across the battlefield, striking lethal blows with those compact sickles of his. He had grace and balance unlike any she had ever seen before, she admired him, they were the same and yet so much apart. He killed a beast by completely yanking out its insides and immediately moved on, like a shadow, to the next one. Alexander fired away at the hairy bast-rds, his body completely relaxed. His calculating mind constantly at work, noticing every little detail about the situation unfolding itself around him. Years of training had made him familiar with situations like these and years of experience made sure that he knew just what to do and how to do it. He did not let a single bullet go to waste and seemed confident. Four brave refugees had gathered enough courage to come outside and had brought small arms with them; they fired away at the hordes of wolves. It took six or seven bullets to take one down, but they had to protect their families. And with this on their minds they fought with the strength of a dozen men.