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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Monday, August 04, 2008

Flash Fiction: The Darkest Dawn

Chapter 1

I let out a long slow breath and inched my way to the corner. The worn ivory grip on my gun felt reassuring in my right hand. My left inched closer to the end of the wall and I steeled myself for a peek around into the alley. I knew whatever was on the other side of this wall was up to no good. I tightened my grip again on the pistol and pulled my old rosary beads out of the front pocket of my battered leather jacket.

I peeked around the corner and immediately knew I was in trouble. The were beast was huge, easily 12 feet tall, dark brown fur stretched over muscle and bone. The thing had thrown it's rags away as it as it loomed over the splayed remains of what had once been one of the local girls. I didn't like to think that this thing had been running wild for the past 2 days and only now had i tracked it down. Were's were fast, but this guy was fast and big, never a good combination. I thumbed the hammer back on my pistol and burst into a quick roll around the corner, before I had to much time to think about what I was doing.

My fingers and thumb were a blur, one pulling the trigger the other thumbing the hammer in rapid succession. The huge revolver blared with each blast until only the clicks of the empty barrels sounded. Each shot hit the Were with the force of a small explosion. The bullets had been infused with UV rounds in a silver casing, about the only two things that could really put a permanent hurt on a Were.

The Were let out an ungodly roar and I got my first real good look at his face, huge gaping jaw, all full of yellow teeth and those red eyes, burning with a special kind of hate for people like me. People who's job it is to take down these son's a bitches.

I had to give it to this one, he was tough. He had taken all 8 rounds on my gun to the neck and chest and was till on his feet. I dropped my pistol and let one of my silver knives fall free from my coat sleeve. In the same motion I skidded to a stop, my boots sliding on the bloody cement and ducked into a another quick roll, bringing myself in closer to the Were. He let out a long swipe of his claws catching me across the back as I pulled into the dive. My leather jacket caught some of it, but I was gonna need a helluva lot of bactine later.

Finally in close enough I paused just enough to ram a quick elbow under the beast's jaw. My gifts gave me some advanced strength and speed, as well as a few other handy bonuses, but nothing I could do physically would hurt him. That wasn't the point though. With his head I did two things, one (and most importantly) I kept him from biting me. I can heal good, but nothing can help you once you've been Were-bit. The second thing was to raise his chin just high enough for me to get a knife shot. Thrusting upward I plunged the silver blade deep into his jugular vein, stopping only when the hilt would go no further.

A bright gush of blood flew from the wound and the Were let out another scream. That much silver in his veins would feel like acid running though his bloodstream. I tried to back out but the Were caught me with a wild back hand and I landed hard against the dirty brick wall, my breath leaving in a great woosh.

Slowly I picked myself up and drew my spare gun from the holster I kept at the small of my back. Never use one when two will suffice I always say. I pulled up and aimed at the Were, which was now mostly writhing and mewling on the ground in pain. I let two more shots fly, each one through his head. Finally, the Were stopped moving and lay in its pool of blood.

I holstered the gun and retrieved my other from where I has tossed it, though I left the knife in place. Were's had wicked fast regenerative powers, and while I was pretty sure this one was dead, I had learned the hard way that it was best to take no chances. I pulled a crumpled smoke from my other coat pocket as I placed my lucky rosaries back where they belonged. Lighting the cigarette I headed back out the alley to meet Father Quinton, my local liaison who was waiting for me.

I must of looked a lot worse than I though when Quint saw me, he paled a lot more than usual. He was still fairly new to the hunt, having replaced my last liaison after the events of the last Uprising, after the last time I made a mistake.

"Are you okay Alex? Your covered in blood and your coat looks like it was cut off of your back!"

I took another drag of the smoke before tossing it aside. Just another in a string of bad habits Quint didn't approve of.

"Don't worry Father, it's not the wolves that I can see that worry me, it's the ones I can't."

He made a small noise that I couldn't quite hear and offered me a benediction. Just another night in paradise.

End of Line.

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