Alistair faced away from us, so Stewart grabbed his arms and pinned them to his sides. Luke frowned and pulled back his fist. "Sorry, old friend," he spoke before he slammed his fist into the side of Alistair's face. The force knocked Alistair's head to the side and he slumped in Stewart's arms. Stewart lowered his prisoner and himself to the bed while Luke came over to and knelt beside me. I sat beside Stacy's prone body and massaged my leg. "Are you all right?" he asked me.
I grimaced, but nodded. "Just a stretch or something. Remind me to tell Stacy to lose some weight."
At that moment Burnbaum honked and waved his hand out his window. "Look!" he yelled at us.
We looked at where he pointed and beheld the rear lights of Lance's convoy. The final battle was about to begin.
25
Luke frowned and turned to me. "You will remain here and watch over Stacy and Alistair."
I snorted. "Like I'm going to listen to that, and you know it. I'm coming with you and going to see this mess to the end." I proved my statement by rising to my feet. It hurt like hell, but I clenched my teeth and bore my pain in silence. "See? I can fight," I squeaked.
"Let her choose to fight or not. I will remain with your friends," Stewart spoke up. We looked to him and saw he lay against the back of the cab. One of his hands clutched at his side and there was a blood stain on his shirt beneath his coat.
Luke rushed over to him and opened wide his shirt. "You must speak up if you're injured," he scolded our friend.
Stewart smiled. "It's only a flesh wound, but I am no longer fast enough to dodge a fist."
Luke pursed his lips, but nodded. "All right. If any of our friends appear to revive then knock them out whether you believe they are under Lance's control or not. We can't risk their joining the fight."
"I will," Stewart promised.
Luke stood and glanced over the cab at the approaching trucks and semis. I limped over to him and the wind whipped my hair back. In Rick's truck Adam and Emily had Stevens and Baker knocked out, and waited with Steve for the final confrontation. "What surprises do you think Lance has waiting for us?" I wondered.
Luke shook his head. "With my brother there is no telling."
I sighed. "I hate surprises."
Our trucks flew over the hard-packed dirt road and the hills on either side of us grew taller so that the tops of the mounds sat above the tops of the semi trailers. The road widened so two trucks could easily race abreast. Burnbaum stepped on the gas and edged alongside Rick's truck.
Emily leaned over the left side of their truck to speak to us on our right. "Got any plans, Lord?" she shouted.
"Stay alive," Luke replied.
Emily smirked and pulled out a double-barrel, sawed-off shotgun from behind her back. "I'll see what I can do," she told him.
Necessity forced us to duck as a hail of bullets welcomed us to within fifty yards of Lance's convoy. The bullets chipped the windshields, but Burnbaum's solid trucks didn't break under the strain. Luke leaned down near the driver's window. "Get us alongside the last truck."
"I will try," Burnbaum shouted back.
Burnbaum stepped on the gas and we sped forward. Rick wasn't about to let us have all the fun and kept pace with us. Lance's convoy still lay in a long line of single-file vehicles, and the last vehicle was an armored truck. Like the last in line this also had a Gatling gun, and they didn't hesitate in shooting the thousand-rounds-a-minute load at us. The bullets were several inches long and penetrated the hoods of our truck, so Burnbaum and Rick swerved to opposite sides of the road. Our left tires swerved onto the high, steep wall of the hill, but Burnbaum turned us off before we flipped.
Rick was crazier. He turned the truck so the front tires faced the steep slope and then he floored it. The thick, wide tires caught the hard ground and the truck raced up the slope and jumped over the top. Its taillights disappeared over the hill, leaving only its trail as evidence it was ever there.
"What is he doing with my truck?" I heard Burnbaum scream from the cab.
We found out the next second when headlight beams broke over the top of the hill and the truck flew over the steep edge. Emily, Steve, and Adam clung onto the back of the cab and sides of the truck, and I swear I saw Stevens and Baker's prostrate forms levitate above the bed. Emily mouthed some words that I couldn't make out, but probably weren't affectionate towards Rick's driving. The truck defied gravity for all of a second and came crashing down near the Gatling truck. Rick sharply turned the wheel and the truck sides slammed into each other.
Adam unwillingly flew into the enemy truck and made use of their surprise attack by grabbing the operator and tossing him over the side. He caught the gun and aimed it toward the convoy and especially the shooters. The gun burned through its remaining bullets and took out a great deal of our trouble. The entire convoy came to a screeching halt as drivers and passengers alike were ventilated by the long bullets. With the way cleared of most obstacles Burnbaum pressed on the gas and we propelled forward.
Once our foes were sure Adam was out of bullets, those who didn't look like Swiss cheese jumped from the convoy trucks and ducked down behind their vehicles. They fired at us, and Burnbaum turned the wheel. The truck fishtailed and the right side ended up pointed toward our enemies. Burnbaum, Luke and I jumped out of the bed while Stewart ducked down. The trucks behind us pulled up to us, but the transformed werewolves were gone.
It was then that the woods came alive with the howls of our green-armband brethren. Their dark shadows burst from the hills on either side of the convoy and they raced down the slope like lemmings over a cliff. Lance's men turned their barrels on them and fired, but they had a few problems. The first was Emily who was armed to the teeth and willing to share her bounty with Adam and Steve. Rick had his own stash, no doubt picked up from his abandoned-but-beloved truck on the way over here. They fired their guns at the hidden shooters and distracted them so our wolfy friends could attack them from the sides.
The second of their problems was our group. Luke and Burnbaum transformed and rushed forward. They raced between the rear vehicles, and grabbed any foe they could find and dashed their heads against the vehicles, ground, and even each other. Our victory was again short-lived when feroce spilled from a few of the canvas-covered trucks and joined the fray. The fighting was savage as the monsters fought in hand-to-hand combat with our werewolf friends.
I raced after Burnbaum and Luke, but paused near the Gatling truck when I heard whimpers and yelps far ahead of us. On the far left side of the chaos was a group of our allies, and they were getting their asses handed to them in ugly black baskets. The source of the problem was Cranston, transformed into a monstrous feroce and swiping his claws in every direction. He took no prisoners as he strangled, choked, tore and broke our allies, leaving a mass of bodies at his feet. I bared my fangs and tore off after him as he tried to make his way to the head of the convoy.
Luke noticed me. "Stay back!" he growled.
I being myself didn't listen, and he raced after me. We passed through the fighting and a few flaming vehicles from a bullet to their gas tank. The lead trucks and the front two semis were mostly undamaged by the Gatling thanks to the other vehicles having shielded them, but the semis had several flat tires. The door to one of the lead trucks opened and out stepped Lance. His face was twisted with fury and his eyes glowed a bright yellow as they swept across the carnage at our backs. Cranston ran up to Lance and turned to growl at us.
Lance put his hand atop Cranston's head and grinned at us. He bowed his head. "A pleasure to see you, brother,, and your lovely mate," he greeted us.
"Give up, Lance," Luke growled.
Lance chuckled. "Not so long as I have a few men to fight for me. Or should I say feroce?" He snapped his fingers and from the trucks behind and in front of his came forth a half dozen feroce. Their mouths dripped with saliva and their claws twitched and carved long streaks into the dirt road as they itched to tear us to shreds. Lance stroked the top of Cranston'
s head. "These feroce are ordinarily very dangerous, but just a whiff of my Alpha Formula and they are as passive as puppies for me. They are also very eager to obey my orders." He raised his arm and pointed a finger at us. "Feroce, kill them."
Cranston and the other six feroce leapt at us, but Luke crashed into them in mid-jump. He put two of them out of commission before they overpowered him. I leapt to his defense, but Cranston broke from the group and tackled me to the ground. He pinned my wolf legs to the ground and sank his jaws into my neck. I felt his teeth break the skin and inch toward my main arteries.
That's when I heard the roar of an engine that broke through the howling and fighting around us. Cranston looked up and I followed his gaze to the tall hill on our right side. Headlights beamed into the sky and a ragged truck flew into the air. Wilson stuck his head out the window and hollered. "Yeah-ha!"
Ian, nice and healed, knelt on the hood. As their truck succumbed to gravity he leapt off and Wilson opened his door and jumped away from the truck. I noticed a few barrels in the bed drift upward over the convoy, particularly the rear semi and half of the assisting trucks. Wilson landed in the middle of Luke and my fighting while Ian took Emily and the others. Wilson smashed a fist into Cranston's long face, grabbed me, and hauled me away from the convoy. Luke broke from his own group and limped toward the opposite side of the road from where the truck had appeared.
I couldn't figure out what their plan was until the first barrel hit one of the trucks. The explosion knocked us off our feet and blew away anyone within a twenty-yard radius. That's when I remembered those were the spare barrels of gas from our long trip to the border of Prospera, and judging by the explosions going off left and right I guessed that Ian and Wilson had refilled and bought more. His truck and its large tank of gas slammed into the second semi, and both of them burst into flames that reached fifty yards in the sky. Pity, I really liked that truck.
There were more friend than foe in this part of the convoy so I didn't have much to worry about there. The feroce and their instincts told them to scatter, and Lance's scent be damned. They ran everywhere, and most disappeared into the forest, including Cranston. We were safe from them, but there was the problem of the gushing wound on my neck. Wilson dragged me to the edge of the road and leaned me against the hillside. Luke joined us in a moment and looked me over.
"How do you feel?" he asked me.
I managed a grin. "Like a chew toy."
He smiled and pecked a light kiss on my blood-covered cheek. "You will live to squeak again another day," he told me.
I snorted and meant to reply about my rubbing off on him, but my eyes caught movement behind him. I glanced over his shoulder toward the front of the convoy. Flames shot up from most of the vehicles, and all were abandoned. Inside the flickering fire Lance stepped onto the running board of the front semi and pulled a bullet-riddled driver from the cab. He tossed the body onto the ground, climbed into the cab, and slammed the door shut. In a moment the engine roared to life, and Luke and Wilson turned at the noise. The handles on the rear doors were shot to hell and as he drove the semi forward the doors swung open. In the back were stacks of crates. My eyes widened. The only reason he would want that truck full of goods out of here would be because that was the load with the formulas.
Luke turned to Wilson. "Stay with her," he ordered him.
Wilson could barely nod in reply before Luke took off on all fours for the truck. Luke didn't reach the semi. Lance's not-so-gentle pushing of the lead trucks caused one of the burning trucks at the front of the convoy to explode, and its shrapnel flew everywhere. That included backward into the engine of Lance's semi. The front of the semi burst open and the force knocked friend and foe off their feet. The night was lit by the explosion. The trailer also erupted in flames and the chemicals in the back spilled over the remains of the cab, feeding the fire.
Luke crawled onto his hands and knees, and looked to the flaming ruins that used to be the semi. The fire reflected off his large, tear-soaked eyes. "Lance!" Luke he out. The only response was the crackle of the flames and minor explosions as chemicals mixed with fire.
Around us Lance's men were beaten off or surrendered to our allies. The remaining feroce yipped and ran into the woods with our forces close behind. The war was over, but the price was the life of my mate's brother and many of our Green Party friends. Callean had also lost a lot of men in the skirmishes.
I walked up, knelt beside Luke and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He wouldn't have let you bring him in, anyway," I told him.
"I know, but still. . ." His voice trailed off as he hung his head.
I slid in front of him and clasped his chin between my fingers. He looked up and I gave him my best, brightest smile. "Come on. Let's go home."
The heavy hand of the law, namely Adam's, fell on Luke's shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave quite so quickly. There's a great deal of cleaning and mending to do, and I'm not referring to the chaos before us."
My shoulders drooped, but Luke wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my face. "We'll be home before you know it," he assured me. There was an emptiness to his voice I didn't like, but the war was over and I was tired. At least now I'd get some rest.
26
It wasn't that quick, but not as long as our journey through this mess. First off, we had to clear Luke of a bunch of charges, namely the murder of Mullen and the non-kidnapping of Stevens. That is, after we made sure our brain-washed friends were okay.
Adam helped me help Luke to his feet and we turned to view the devastation we wrought in our path. Twisted, burnt metal lay everywhere, Lance's men surrendered en masse because their leader was now an overcooked marshmallow, and Callean with his troops raced up the road. Wilson followed us to Emily and Ian, both of whom looked the worse for wear in their fight against Lance's guys.
Luke smiled at the pair. "Thank you for your help. This would never have succeeded without you," he told them.
Emily snorted and waved her hand at him. "You probably would've figured out some crazy plan. You seem to surround yourself with a bunch of nuts," she commented. Her eyes swept over Wilson and ended up on the lead troops of Callean. Rick and Steve, sporting some nice blood splotches that weren't from their blood, walked side-by-side with Callean.
Burnbaum broke from the group and wandered over to our abandoned vehicles. He leaned over the back and I saw a smile light up his face. I knew why when Stacy and Alistair sat up and rubbed their heads. Their eyes were filled with life and more than a little confusion. Oh, and Stevens and Baker awoke in the other truck bed, but I think Stacy was the only one happy to see her father was back to his normal self.
We walked over to our rehabilitated friends and leaned over the side of the truck that held Stacy and Alistair. "How are you feeling?" Luke asked them.
Alistair rubbed his head and winced. "I believe this is what it feels like to be hung over," Alistair commented.
Stacy's eyes swept over the wreckage around them. "What have you done now?" she asked Luke.
He smiled and shrugged. "Merely saved the werewolf world," he told her.
"Are you sure there was anything saved?" she teased.
"Plenty to rebuild, given time," he assured her.
We helped them out of the trucks and Callean came up to us. He grasped Stacy's hands and smiled into her face. "Leonor will be pleased to see you are safe," he told her.
"I'm glad to hear she's okay, but what exactly happened? That last I remember is the facility and Luke escaping," she asked us.
Burnbaum chuckled and set a hand on her shoulder. "It is a long story. One best told in a home with a good drink."
We left Burnbaum and Callean's men to clean up the mess, and made our way to a Green Armband camp a few miles off near an old, abandoned road. That was where Burnbaum had made the surprise attack and like us had figured out the location of the route with the trucks through thorough investigation, patience, and making one of the sprayers squeal like a stuck pig. The
camp of tents and a few small campfires lay nestled in the trees, and Luke and I were given a tent of our own. The others scattered to rest, talk and, in the case of Rick and Emily, drink until they went blind.
Luke and I retired for what remained of the night. We lay on a thin blanket over the hard ground and snuggled. It felt so good to snuggle without worrying about imminent death. I sighed and buried my face into his chest. "So warm," I murmured.
"Yes," was his bland reply.
I pulled away and gazed into his face. He lay on his side towards me and his eyes were open. His mouth was pursed and tense. "What's wrong?" I whispered.
"Nothing," he replied. He turned his back to me.
I frowned, grabbed his sleeve and gave a hard tug that pulled me onto his back. I crawled on top of him and glared down into his strained face. "What's wrong?" I growled.
Luke sighed. "Lance," he replied.
My face softened. "You can't go blaming yourself for his death. He got into that truck a long time ago." Luke turned his head away from me, but I grasped my chin and forced him to look into my face. "You are not responsible for his death. Heck, Wilson and Ian are more responsible for his death than you are. They brought the fuel, but you tried to save him."
"Perhaps," he answered.
I crossed my arms over my chest and pushed down on his stomach. He let out a wheeze and clutched my hips. "No perhaps," I growled. "Lance could have done anything else with his life, but he chose to be an attempted dictator rather than a dentist. That was his choice, and he's the one who has to-well, had to live with the consequences."
A ghost of a smile slipped onto Luke's lips. "Perhaps." I opened my mouth, but he pressed his hand against my lips. "And perhaps you're right. He did choose his own path and we chose ours, but though I may be able to forgive myself one day for not being able to save him what will Zeke say?" he mused.
I snorted. "He'll probably say you did a damn good job for the odds and wander away to his shack."