Better off Dead
This is the story I wrote for Wild Nights this past year. I probably could have done better, but since it's been a few months after the Con, I though I should post it.
Aaron awoke, lying on the cold ground. His eyes and ears quickly moved about the forest. Feeling the heat pressing down on his fur, he brought his hand up to cover the sun beaming straight into his eyes. The world, much like his memory, was a blur. He knew his name at least. There was no doubt about that. Standing up he took a moment to shake his head. Then as his vision adapted, a name erupted from his memory. Clara.
There was no time to fool around anymore as a strange sense of urgency and impending danger grabbed at his stomach as he surveyed the landscape around him. Looking down, the wolf caught a glimpse of himself. His jeans were ragged and torn, his shoes were coming apart and his shirt was a strange mixture of yellow and crimson. He could only stare at the stains for a few moments. Then looking over at his belt, Aaron caught sight of small wooden hilt. Grasping at it he pulled the object out from its sheath, revealing a large, black, serrated knife. Carefully, he looked at the weapon, stained as well. Drawing the weapon closer to his nose, he tried to confirm his suspicions, but his scent was off. It was blood he could smell that plus another more pungent smell engulfed his nose, though his mind couldn't associate it with anything. He sheathed his weapon and began to move forward. Instincts took over as he navigated himself through the trees and brushes around him.
***
Aaron's eyes continued to gaze at the forest before him, pushing onward. Although with no particular destination, he didn't know what else to do. He caught another smell on the air, the scent of food, it wasn't much but it was sweet. He wasn't very hungry at the moment, but considering it had been a few hours since he awoke, he should have something in his stomach. Glancing back toward the ground, the wolf found a bush full of blackberries. Kneeling, he began picking at the bush stuffing the berries into his mouth, to which he immediately spat them out. The smell said one thing, but the taste obviously said another. He may have been sick. Aaron did sense that something was a bit off about him. Mainly he felt cold; he was probably coming down with a fever. If this feeling of urgency wasn't there, he may have taken time to rest. Instead he pressed onward.
Several more hours passed and the sun continued its journey heading toward the horizon. Aaron paused for a moment, confused that he was still up knowing that he hadn't rested for the entire trip, but then again he didn't push himself as hard as he could have. At times he would find his mind wondering always falling back onto Clara, odd how she was the only thing that came to his mind. It didn't take him long before he started to remember; her scent, the feel of her fur and the gaze of her striking eyes. Aaron sighed, taking in a long and deep breath as he spotted wisp of smoke, floating in the sky above him. Something or someone was out there. What alternative was their? He had to investigate. Immediately Aaron picked up his pace.
The fire was tiny, but fresh. Aaron spotted a two person tent, a small package of chips; Chef Boyardee cans and a large pot were spread through out the small makeshift camp *. * The wolf approached the tent as he carefully examined the plastic canvas. There was no sound from the inside or any signs of movement and the fire overpowered his scent. Could the person already have left? The tent flap was open. Looking around, the wolf bent forward to peer in. The tent was much like the outside, a mess; there was a sleeping bag twisted in one corner, knives laying in another and empty bullet casing, though he couldn't find the gun, not in the tent at least. Maybe the guy was out hunting, with a pistol?
"Who goes there?" a voice bellowed behind him. Aaron stood up and turned around. Seeing a young bear, no more than twenty five years of age standing in front of him, his eyes were wide and his body stood still, the barrel of his hand gun pointed directly at Aaron.
"Now, calm down" Aaron pleaded to him. Unfortunately words were not coming from his mouth, sounding more like moan than an intelligent being. The young bear screamed and without even thinking squeezed the trigger. He had been shot at, and the bear was prepared to take aim at him again. Withdrawing his knife, the wolf rushed at the bear with incredible speed. Landing on top of him, Aaron with one quick move, rammed the knife into the bear's chest. The wolf stood up as he watch the life drained out of the young man and unto the ground beneath him. Dropping his knife, he staggered back as he looked over his body, trying to ascertain if he had any bullet wound. It didn't look like he had any; he wasn't dripping any blood either. Instinctively he wanted to grab the gun, but he felt that wouldn't be right. Instead he closed his eyes and said a small prayer and then he was off.
****
Aaron stood high on top of a small hill, which overlooked the town below. The empty buildings and the broken down street lamps sent a chill up the wolf's spine. Distance memories soon started to float into his head, as he began to see the abandoned town, come to life once more. That's it, Carson City was the town's name and that means Clara's here! Aaron sprang forward as his feet and legs came to life_._ Approaching the city he found it in a state of complete and total disaster. Cars were torn apart as the pierced the sides of brick walls, broken glass, plastic bottles and assortment of other garbage was all over the streets. His memory began to tease him as small glimpses of the town in utter chaos flashed in his head. Aaron ran, pushing himself deeper and deeper into the city, unsure of his destination. He couldn't quite tell how he knew the way but it came to him like an odd and constant feeling of Déjà vu.
Ears flicking, the sound of a distant crash made the wolf stop. It sounded like metal falling on top of metal. Despite the delay, Aaron was curious and quickly made a detour. As a precaution he withdrew his knife and kept it at the ready. Another loud clanging came from around the corner; Aaron felt that he was getting close. That was when he saw the Lion. His clothes were ripped and in pieces, barely hanging on him and his movements were slow. What was he? Aaron did his best to confirm the identity of the mysterious creature. It limped along the road, and then it stopped, Aaron now saw him for who he really was. He could make out a mane, but he could also see bones, rotting flesh and blood, dripping in globs on the ground. Then, turning its head toward him, his nose twitched as if he was trying to smell something or someone. Aaron tightened the hold he had on his knife and stared at the creature. He couldn't forget those eyes, they were pale and lifeless. Then all of sudden, it just turned and ignored him, continuing on its journey to nowhere. Aaron stared at it confused, curious of the action it took. That wasn't normal. Though how much he wanted to investigate this matter, he had to find Clara.
The flies that were swarming around his head started to bother him again as he stood their looking at several large buildings before him. This is it, she's here. Then finally his eyes caught a sign loosely hanging on the side of the building marked, "First National Bank." It had a curious symbol on it. The words "Bomb Shelter" was written below it. The glass doors were shattered. Shards littered the streets beneath his feet. Aaron yelled out. Though after the groan that came from his mouth he realized that he may not be able to talk. What in the world was wrong with me, he thought
Moving further and further in, Aaron began to look around for the vault. Though his thoughts were nothing short of excitement as he felt he was close. As soon as he got to the lobby, he heard a noise. Turning around, he saw a door swinging closed and he ran, approaching the door. Finding his way into the restroom, the wolf began to look around. Stalls lined the place, old plastic vases were on the sink and in the distance stood a figure, a female wolf standing there looking at him, as a pistol was held at the ready.
"Clara" Aaron tried to mutter but his words failed him. Another short but loud groan came out of his mouth and loud sound of gunfire echoed all around them. Aaron looked at her dumfounded and confused as he heard the bullet whizzed by him. _Why was she shooting at me?! _
"Stay back, you monster" Clara yelled as another shot of gunfire echoed in the stalls and another bullet barely missed Aaron's head. Then the realization hit him. Quickly turning toward the mirror, Aaron saw his reflection in the mirror and everything made sense now. The bear in the woods, the flies, the pungent smell, he was one of them. His eye's were pale, his face sunken, he was something else. Then shifting his head back onto Clara at the other end of the bathroom, he concentrated on her. Her stance, her posture, her breathing, the way she held the gun. Aaron knew she wasn't a bad shot; Clara was never a bad shot. She recognized him. Aaron smiled knowing now what he had to do.
Tears were streaming down Clara's face, her arms were shaking. So he yelled something, knowing that anything he said would come out as a large roar and then he ran, rushing at her. This time she didn't hesitate and took another shot, and Aaron felt satisfied.
As he fell backwards he could feel what energy he had left draining away from his body. For a moment he wondered if this was normal, if this is how all of them died. Then falling on to his ground, everything went black, as a single thought came to his mind.
"Thank god"