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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Savage Moon 06 - The New Breed - 38. Chapter 38


"Savage Moon: The New Breed 38"

 

 



As soon as Virgil got into his bedroom...he shut the door up tight. Then I could hear a very loud, distinct, series of clicks as he began to put multiple locks on the door to keep us out. 'just in case', I guess. Then I heard the familiar sound of a beer can being popped open as he walked over to his bed to sit down and open up one of his dresser drawers. Then I heard a few more clicks of a different nature...but still so familiar.


It was Virgil Wyatt replacing the shotgun shells that he used outside with a fresh new load...cocking it back and placing it right there at his bedside.


It was one of those times when I really wish my hearing hadn't become so fine tuned to what was going on around me all the time. Geez, was he ever paranoid. I already said that I was sorry and that I didn't mean to yell. What else does he want from me?


"Do you really think that your friends will wait until morning?" Isaac asked me timidly, carrying the last dustpan over to the garbage bin to empty out its contents before leaning it up against the wall next to the fridge.


"I think so. I'm not really sure what had them so spooked tonight, but I can't seem to feel anything right now. I'm guessing that they must be too far away."


"I thought you were bonded to them all the time?"


I shook my head. "No, that's the absolute last thing that either one of us would want right now." I said. "In order for me to feel how they feel...I'd have to reconnect to the calling. And that means I'll be totally open to them too. Its hard to explain. Even harder to control. All I can say is that it would be a bad idea for me slip back under Cyrus' control again. Even for a moment."


Isaac's eyes looked down at the floor as he moved of to sit on one of the couches by the fireplace. "So...that means that you're going to be stuck like this? Possibly forever?"


It was a scary idea for me to even entertain at first. Not even the sweet relief of denial had found an effective way to bring me some peace when I thought about it for more than a few seconds. But I was trying to work something out in my head. "I don't know, Isaac. I mean...I've broken contact with Cyrus before, right? There's gotta be a way for me to do it again. Maybe even once and for all. I just have to figure out how without letting the others know what I'm up to. I can't really say that I have any real 'training' with this sort of thing." I sat down next to him, and asked, "How do you suppose Virgil knows so much about this stuff? I'm really surprised that he didn't freak out and blast us all off of the roof."


"I don't have any idea. I'm just glad that he's no friend to them and vice versa. As long as that stays the same, we have to trust him to be our only way home from this."


"I suppose you're right..." I sighed, and that's when I felt Isaac lean over and lightly pull up the front of my shirt again. I winced with a touch of pain, my skin burning hot as the fabric of my shirt slid across the deep cuts John Boy put in me. God forbid it had been Dexter that had gotten a hold of me. I'm sure I'd have a lot more chunks missing out of my gut if it had been. However, when I looked down, the scars had already begun to stitch themselves back together. Still visible, but already looking as if they were a week or two old on me. "I guess the old man was right about this too, huh?"


"Does it hurt?" He asked me.


"Ugh...it burns. It's like having fire in my veins...and they're all concentrating on this one spot now."


"Like...when I touch it...?"


"Acckkk! Yes!" I hissed, immediately scooting a bit further away from him to keep him from poking me any further. "I think I just...I just need some rest. A lot of the pain should be gone in the morning."


"Do you want a blanket?"


"No. No, I just wanna lay here and let myself get totally consumed by the fever for a little while. Ok?" I said, leaning back against the cushion as a heave wave of fatigue washed over me until I could barely keep my eyes open for one second longer. "You take that couch, and I'll take this one."


"Alright. Rest well, Wesley. And may God watch over you tonight."


With a yawn, I said, "Yeah. Sure...whatever..." And everything in the room around me seemed to go silent as I found myself practically passing out from exhaustion. My whole body went limp...and for a while there, I almost felt as though I would never fully wake up ever again...


...And that's when the dream began.


Normally, I would have nightmares about someone or some thing chasing ME through the woods. It was always frightening, deeply disturbing, even though it was a nightmare that I was used to and highly familiar with at this point. And this was even before Cyrus and my pack came along. I could always feel it dwelling deep inside me. As though something was constantly pursuing me. The truth of who I really was, and the horror of who I didn't want to be...at least not in public. I always felt like my sexual tastes and my romantic nature would catch up to me eventually. Attempting to outrun those hidden feelings was, at one time, the only outlet that I had to escape the sick and loathsome fate of having the people in my family, my friends, my entire community, know who I really was and what I really wanted out of life. It horrified me beyond all comprehension, because...I didn't know how they would see me if they knew about it. And yet...who would I be without it? And would they accept that persona...unconditionally...if I found out that this was the person that I really wanted to be?


It made me think about home. About my mom and dad. About Nick. But it also made me think about Cyrus and the rest of my brethren out here in the woods. And I found myself conflicted. What kind of happiness could I possibly find if I found myself simply traveling from one emotional prison to another for the rest of my life? I mean, can I even call that a life? Because it doesn't really seem like one.


But...like I said...this dream was different.


I was playing a different role. Predator, not prey. I could hear the footsteps of someone deep in the woods surrounding us. The crackle of loose branches and dead leaves. I could smell their scent, different from all others surrounding them. And their movement...no matter how quiet, or how careful, or how stealthy that they thought they were being...I could easily detect it. Step by step. Breath by breath. Did they really think that they could hide from me? At this close range?


I could feel my enhanced instincts look down upon my target with a certain sense of arrogance. Perhaps...even a level of contempt. And you know what?


I LIKED it!


Run, little 'piglet'. Run!


I could have easily jumped out of the shadows and slaughtered them...but that would deprive me from the exhilarating thrill of the chase, wouldn't it?


I remained in the shadows, watching my victim get more and more anxious as she tried to recognize the sounds coming from the bushes around her. It was much too late for that. I was already too close. There was no way that she'd be able to escape me now...


I could smell the fear on her. A bittersweet fragrance that made me feel stronger in her presence. It made my teeth and my claws itch. Father taught me well. I needed this. I was meant to be a predator. I was meant to be wild.


With that, I jumped down out of the trees and was extremely excited to see this girl run. I could hear every footstep, the soles of her sneakers digging into the dirt in an attempt to give her the maximum push forward to increase her speed. But she could never be as fast I was. No no no...not ever. I began to chase behind her with a heated fury, my fangs bared as I hunted her down without mercy. Smeared with long, warm, drips of wolf saliva as my hunger increased with every hurried gallop of my four legs. Don't you DARE try to outrun me bitch!


I chased her down, with her attempting to weave in nd out between the trees in an attempt to lose me or break my stride...but the claws on my hands and feet could easily dig into the ground beneath, causing only a minimal slide before I was able to pivot and change course in the blink of an eye.


She ran as fast as she could, while I was merely using enough energy to keep sight of her until she tired herself out. And then...I hurried forward to pounce on her back. I bit deeply into her shoulder, watching an entire shower of blood crawl down the front of her shirt as my claws dug deep into both of her shoulders. She fell to the ground, unable to sustain much of a fight from there on out. And I reveled in the taste of raw meat as my sharpened fangs ripped the naturally seasoned flesh from her back and shoulders...growling ravenously as I chewed it all up and tilted my head back to swallow it down before going back for more.


Her blood soaked the dirt beneath her, turning it into a muddy mess of gore and desperation. And when I turned her over to look down on what tender morsels I'd be able to feast upon next...I hesitated. The hunger remained, but my mind was fighting to return back to it's normal state.


"K-K-Kyla....?"


I suddenly felt myself being ejected out of a deep sleep, and awoke to see daylight shining in through the cabin windows around us. Isaac was still sleep, but I think that I could hear Virgil rummaging around through stuff in the kitchen. I couldn't help but to feel a bit weird about he dream that I had. I mean...I can't imagine that there's a big part of me that gets off on hurting people, much less killing people. And I'd NEVER hurt Kyla! No matter what influence I was under at the time...she was definitely off limits when it came to hunting anybody down. I mean...right? I couldn't hurt her if I tried?


Is this one of Cyrus' dirty tricks, or what? Because he's not going to win if his big plan is to get me to hurt my closest friends. That just won't happen. I can defy him. The same way that I stopped him from getting me to hurt Isaac. I'm not falling for it. He can entice me all he wants...it's never going to happen. I won't let it.


"You ok, Wesley?" I guess Isaac woke up around the same time that I did.


"I'm...fine. I think. Just...some bad nightmares, that's all."


He hesitated for a moment, but then asked, "About your friends?"


"They are NOT my friends, ok?" I snapped back. "I was fucked up for a while, but I'm thinking clearly now. I swear." I put my hands on both sides of my head, swearing that I was hearing random voices within...telling me to come home. Telling me to regain my status as another alpha in their chosen family. But I just wanted to block them all out. I can't be a part of that insane cult again. As alluring as Cyrus' promises may be...I can't go back there again. I've already gone too far as it is. And I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life. I understand that. But going back to be with my brethren is not an option. I need to stay away from them. And I need to keep the people I care about away from them too.


"Wesley?" Isaac asked, seeing me clutching my ears on both sides of my head while slightly rocking back and forth on the couch. "Nightmares are just nightmares. Nothing more." Then he put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. "You seem like you have a good heart, Wesley Parker. And if you can thrive off of the power of someone much greater than this Cyrus boy...you can beat him. I am sure of it. You just need to believe in what's right."


"Heh...you sound a lot like my dad." I said, but Isaac seemed very proud of the comparison. "I'm ok." I told him. "I just...I haven't been a part of my pack's union for a while. So I'm a little unbalanced at the moment."


"A 'union'? What is this?" He asked.


"It's...not really easy to put into words, dude." I said. "I can't describe it, but we all put our thoughts, our emotions, our intentions, together every morning...and it helps to balance me out a little bit. Not too tame not too wild. We all do it. I guess, I haven't been a part of the union for a while now. It makes me feel...lost in a lot of ways."


"Lost? But lost, like, how? I thought you didn't want to be around them any longer."


"That's TRUE!" I said. "And I know that I shouldn't want to. But...they're still my family, Isaac. They're still a deep dark part of me that will continue to exist whether they're here with me or not. I can't just keep denying that." I told him. "Cyrus embraced me. He gave me comfort when no one else, not even my closest friends and family could. He tapped into something so true, and so honest...that he was the only one who could convince me that I didn't have to be afraid of it anymore." I stood up and walked over to the window to loo outside, mostly to avoid Isaac's eyes. "He gave me an opportunity to be myself and live without shame. And he brought me into a community that were all willing to do the same. So what was I supposed to do? Go back into hiding? Return to feeling like shit, or like I couldn't speak up and tell people what I really feel when I feel it?" I turned to face him again, looking him directly in the eye. "I'm not a monster, Isaac. I'm just 'different'. And maybe that's too damn much for people with a limited idea of what humanity should be can understand...but it doesn't change who I am. And if somebody comes along and is willing to accept, or at the very least, tolerate who I am as a human being...then I'll take it. Seriously, I'll take it." I said. "Because...at the end of the day, Cyrus didn't 'trick' me into liking boys or seduce me into being something I'm not. It was other people who did that to me. And they did it by arrogantly closing and locking doors that Cyrus was willing to leave wide open for me. Looking at things from that point of view...I can't truly say that I regret a single thing."


"And the murder and the death and the chaos? Is that a part of you being 'accepted' too? Or do you use that as an excuse to do terrible things in order to get what you want?" Isaac asked.


"Sometimes...yes. It feels that way." I kind of surprised myself when I said it, but since we were having an honest moment with one another...why not. You know? "Some people in this world do awful and horrendous things to one another. They throw childish tantrums, they tell bold faced lies, and they will do or say whatever they feel is necessary to cause the most damage and really HURT people as much as humanly possible. Usually for petty reasons. But tell me that you don't watch some random compilation of Youtube 'Karens' online and wish that someone would just beat the living FUCK out of them, again and again, and AGAIN, until they learned to stop acting like a bunch of toddlers and could get the beat down that they deserve! Tell me that you wouldn't want to see these elite politicians go to jail, or these rapists get punished to the full extent of the law. There's no SHAME anymore in the world. No justice. And i was never a violent person before...but Father never tolerated that kind of thing. Not ever." I hear the words come out of my mouth, and corrected myself. "Cyrus. Not Cyrus." I said. "He may have been harsh in his judgement...but your actions came with consequences. And the consequences fit the crime you committed...even if they were deadly consequences. Wouldn't that make for a better world? Wouldn't the God that you worship see that as a good thing?" I asked.


"That depends, Wesley." He replied.


"Depends on what? On whether or not people get away with the bullshit and fucked up behavior that they get away with on a daily basis?"


"No...." He said calmly. "But on who gets to determine is bullshit and fucked up behavior." He seemed to be so...accepting of it all. It was frustrating, but I tried to listen regardless. "If your 'Cyrus' was in charge of the world...what would it be? What are his values? What is his ideology? And what happens if it doesn't line up with who you are and what you personally believe? The whole planet would just be another pack of wolves, ravaging everyone else mercilessly while taking all of the power and glory for himself. The moment you put that ideology in place...then we all become a part of the calling. We're all a part of his cult. And from that point, there is no escape. If you're never allowed to doubt or think for yourself, if all opposition is met with hatred and violence...then we all become wolves, Wesley. Until the sheep's clothing is no longer necessary. And that's when all of humanity loses. You me, everybody. That can't be what you want, is it?" He said. "You hid the fact that you liked boys from every single person that you knew in your life, even your family...because it was unaccepted in your world. Is that the world you choose to live in from the rest of your life? Being alone? Afraid? In hiding?"


I wasn't quite sure what I was going to answer with, but Virgil walked into the room and told us that we would have to get going soon and to grab our stuff. He really was kicking us out of here at the crack of dawn, wasn't he? I wouldn't blame him though. I suppose he had bigger things to worry about right now.


But I have to admit that some of what Isaac was telling me was kind of sticking to my brain in ways that I never thought possible before. I mean, with him being Amish and all, I didn't think that a lot of the religious aspects of his beliefs would really take hold of me the way they did. But...maybe I've been missing out on some of the teachings that my father always wanted me to learn, growing up as a kid.


What can I say? I'll meditate on it all a bit later.

Copyright © 2010 Comicality; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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