Lycan Fallout (Book 2): Fall of Man (11 page)

I was in a nuclear missile silo facility.

“Are you kidding me?” I placed my hand against the sign, flecks of paint came off. I was in a place that, at one time, could have wiped out any city and its population on the entire planet. Was the missile still here? And if it was, was radiation even now leaking out? Did it matter? If it was a heavy enough dose Mathieu would show effects, at least up until he changed over once a month and would be cured of any cancer causing agents present in his body.

“Do you feel as bad as I do?”

I jumped when I heard Mathieu speak. Okay, jump is a bit of an exaggeration. Hopped? Pulsed up, perhaps? I turned to look at him, his eyes glowing like candles and as red as Bing cherries. He had one hand on his head and one on his stomach.

“This is about the only time I wished I was turning tonight,” he said. We both knew because he would be “cured.”

“Mathieu, this place isn’t called Titani.”

“I know that.”

“Maybe you could have told me this place was a missile silo.”

“Michael.”

“Call me Mike.”

“Mike, I don’t even know what a missile silo is.”

I told him, he somehow seemed even more green than when he’d previously come out behind me.

“Can we talk about this after…” He didn’t need to elaborate.

“Lead on.”

It wasn’t much further to a restroom that looked as clean as the day it had been built. Except for the brown sludge-like water, it was completely functional.

“Gravity fed,” he said as he flushed the toilet. “Pipes are all rusted, though, won’t be long until they burst. Some of the ones in other sections you can poke your fingers through. How’s your leg?” he asked as we exited.

“Surprisingly good.” I couldn’t get the fact that we were possibly sitting next to a mega ton warhead off my mind, and I let him know. “Is there a rocket here?”

“Rocket?”

“Big, long, tubey, cylinder-looking thing.”
And yes, I used the word tubey to describe a weapon of mass destruction.

“How big?”

“Not really sure, but you’d have a hard time missing it. Seventy-five to a hundred feet, I guess.”

“There’s nothing like that in here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Like you said, I’d of had a hard time missing it.”

“You’re positive?”

“Mike, I’ve been living here for fifteen years. I think I would have remembered stumbling upon it.”

“Sorry, you just have no idea how devastating those things could be.”

“Come on. I’ll show you where it probably was.”

My stomach was gurgling something fierce. Tough to say if it was nerves, beer residue, or a caustic brew stew of both. We came out onto a small walkway platform that ringed a large, vertical tunnel.

“Don’t touch that railing,” he warned. As a demonstration, he placed his foot against it and a portion clattered to the floor some fifty feet below.

“Damn,” I said, looking over the edge, getting as close as I dared, which really wasn’t all that close. I looked up, seeing that about the same distance as the floor below the roof was high. At the top were two huge steel doors that opened when the missile was called upon to perform its death-dealing task. “There any other chambers like this?”

“None that I’ve found, and yes, before you ask, I’ve explored this place inside and out.”

“Got to admit, it is a relief to see it’s not here, but I kind of wouldn’t mind seeing one either though. Can we go topside?”

“Depends on your leg. How you feeling?”

“Like I can deal with the discomfort if I can get some sunlight on my body.”

Five levels wouldn’t normally take fifteen minutes to climb, but I was taking my time.

“I still can’t believe you’re walking this soon.”

“Because of my Lycan wound or all the beer I drank?”

“I drank more than you.”

And there it was, a comfortable easy camaraderie had been formed the previous evening. I hoped we’d have the chance to develop it even further. Although I surely wasn’t going to tell him that, that’s just not how guys work.

We came out a side door that was concealed within a decent-sized earthen mound. Vines and other growth made the door almost impossible to see from anyone but the most prying of eyes and it wasn’t like this was on a highway of any sort.

“Man, this feels good,” I said as I leaned against a tree. “Something about being underground kind of sinks into your bones or something.”

“You smell that?”

“Come on, Mathieu, I drank more than I have in decades, there’s bound to be some repercussions.”

He turned to look back at me. “Are you truly referring to your bodily functions?”

I grinned.

“Was that common practice during your time?”

“Not really.” Somewhat embarrassed now that he wasn’t seeing the humor; although I had felt better for releasing some pressure.

He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was talking about. However, I was going to say something to you about it soon.”

“You were ahead of me on the stairs.”

He pointed to his nose. “Since the change, I have a heightened sense of smell.”

I paused. “Aw, man, I
am
sorry.”

“You are easier to embarrass than I would have thought possible.”

“You’re messing with me?”

“If by ‘messing with’ you mean having fun at your expense, then I most certainly am. And while you do smell like something a Bison might leave behind, that is not what I am referring to as the odor I am detecting.”

He had my interest piqued. I had food on the brain, like an aforementioned Bison Burger, or maybe steak. A baking loaf of bread would be perfect as well. He crashed all of my chow fantasies with one word.

“Lycan.” He was testing the air with his nose, the disdain he said the word with could have dripped to the ground.

“Here? We should go back in. Neither of us are any match for one of them.”

“They’re close.”

“Even more of a reason.” A thought of dread hit me full force. “Have they ever been around here?”

When he shook his head in the negative I knew why they were here now. He must have seen the look of concern on my face because he spoke.

“I knew this possibility was an outcome if I stepped into that clearing. I thought I’d done enough to cover my tracks and my scent. I guess not.”

“I’m sorry, Mathieu. They’re here for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s mostly right, but once they picked up the smell of a wayward werewolf I’m sure that gave them a little more incentive as well.”

“Is this the only way into the silo?”

“No.” He was off looking into the surrounding woods. “There’s at least six that I’ve found.”

“Can they be locked or barricaded?”

He thought about it for a second. “Two can be locked, two could be acceptably barricaded. This door, if discovered, can be opened, and it cannot be fortified easily. The other is a cave system; a wall of this structure was removed and it opens directly out to the cave.

“Removed?”

“It almost appears as if people were trapped down there and needed to find another way out. I found all manner of tools and implements at the opening to get that particular job done.”

“Strange. Question for another day I suppose. Should we leave this place?”

“Leave this place?” The look of torture on Mathieu’s face was difficult to look upon. I had to remember this was his home. This was the only place he’d known for the last fifteen years. “Where would I go that the people around me would be safe?”

“There’s still a chance they came sniffing around and did not find us.”

“Possible,” he said without much conviction.

I did not offer up my thoughts, which revolved around the point that they may have already found a way in and were even now walking the corridors looking for us. I found that somehow more terrifying that such an alien creature would be walking through something so thoroughly human as a concrete hallway. The sun no longer felt quite as warm on my skin, and we were far too exposed if they were around. And who friggin’ knew how far my gaseous emissions could be detected? On second thought, that might give them reason not to come looking for us, would probably think one or both of us were already dead.

Mathieu took one more long, sweeping glance. “Are you alright enough to go back?”

“Ready when you are. If at any point we have to run, Mathieu, you just need to go. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Are you going to run if that’s the case?”

“Of course.”

He was lying; I didn’t call him out on it though. I was honored he liked me enough to potentially risk his life. He did, at this point, have a lot vested in me. He had saved me in that clearing, he had nursed me back to health and now he might need me if we were to leave this place. Whether he was thinking that far ahead was not for me to know, at least not at this point.

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was moving as quickly to the door as I dared. Going down was not much better than going up had been. I did not want to put any undue weight on my leg and I didn’t dare use the guardrail to support my full weight and let gravity do its job. The rail looked solid enough but there was a possibility it could be rusted out and I could end up going down hard. Besides bruising my ego and my ass (were those the same?) the extra noise could alert any intruders to our whereabouts. We were both unnaturally quiet as we descended, as every miscellaneous miniscule noise we had earlier discounted now took on more ominous tones.

We would be in some real trouble if we were found out. We were about as vulnerable as we could be. Even a juvenile Lycan wouldn’t have too much problem dispatching of us both. Mathieu had no weapons on him and I was on one leg. Maybe I could hop the Lycan to death. The door that opened up to the hallway creaked. When we went up it was barely noticeable but since all of our senses were heightened now it sounded like the migratory mating call of a blue whale and it would be heard for miles.

“Smell anything?” I asked as we stepped out into the corridor. I hoped for more than one reason that he didn’t. My leg was beginning to throb, and if I had to go back up the stairs with some semblance of speed, I was going to be in a great deal of pain.

“No,” was his answer, after what seemed like an inordinate delay, although I didn’t mind him being overly cautious since it was our lives at stake. “I need to get to my room, I have a bow and arrow.”

“I need to get my axe as well.”

“Should we separate?”

I stopped to look at him. “I guess you wouldn’t know.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Horror Movie 101. The protagonists should never, ever split up.”

“Movie? One-oh-one? Is that English?”

“Let’s just get your bow, and then we’ll get my weapon.”

“It’d be quicker if we each got them and met back here.”

“Yup, most definitely would, now let’s go. I’m telling you, if we split up, one of us will die real soon and then the other will be left to run around all by himself for a long time with death right on his heels. Then, just when it looks like he’s going to get away, he gets killed. After that, the ending credits roll up and the audience is left with a bad taste in their mouths. It’s a format that has worked for years.”

“Whatever you say.” We took a right and headed for his place.

We didn’t see, hear or, in Mathieu’s case, smell anything. That, however, did little to quell the unease we were both feeling. Something just wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the normally benign silo now felt sinister. I was sort of surprised I couldn’t hear the portentous background music. It was a given something was going to jump out at us. The first thing would be a mop handle that was propped against a door incorrectly so it hit me in the face when said door was opened. Then, the next time would be the real deal, giant Lycan, all teeth, claws and malice.

“This is ridiculous, I have got to stop thinking like I’m in a movie,” I muttered.

When we came up to Mathieu’s room, the door was open, so at least I didn’t have to worry about something falling out towards us. The flickering of the torches caused shadows to dance within his room. He stumbled on the edge of a threadbare rug and caught a walking stick before it could fall to the ground. That actually boded well that he caught it; if it had fallen to the floor, it would have startled the hell out of me and been entirely too close to that mop handle.

I looked to his walls, he had dozens of hand drawn pictures and a few pieced-together pictures cut out of magazines of a woman and two children.

“They’re beautiful,” I said as I approached. He seemed embarrassed and saddened as he thanked me. His artwork was incredible. He’d done an amazing job capturing the beauty of his family and their souls; if that was possible, he’d done it. His wife wore a small, lop-sided smile, as if she were asking him how much longer she needed to hold this pose because she had a hundred other things to tend to.