Larry Correia - Monster Hunter Alpha

“Because there’s like a thousand of them and they move so fast you can’t hardly see them and then it’s too late!” someone called from behind. “I say we stay here and let them come to us.”

Earl nodded. He had two distinct personalities here, offensive and defensive. Both were necessary. If they all went out there, just like in nature, the weak would be culled from the herd. If they all sat here, eventually they’d be surrounded, and then they were sitting ducks. “We do both. The creatures will mostly be working alone, but as the night goes on and they’ve got fewer targets of opportunity, the bloodlust will attract them to the survivors. We leave enough here to defend the women and children-”

“That’s sexist!” a girl exclaimed.

“Figure of speech,” Earl responded. “Grown-ups are talking, so cram the PC bullshit. The fallout shelter under this gym serves as the base. We hold it at all costs. We leave a force here to fend off the monsters. The rest of us form squads and take the fight to them. You go out there alone, they will pick you off.” Before he’d started, Nancy had explained how several individuals had set out in search of their loved ones. None of those had come back yet. “It don’t matter how tough you are. You can only look in one direction at a time, and they’re faster than you.”

“I saw one hop clear up to the roof of the bank!”

“Uh huh…,” Earl said as everyone else started babbling about what they’d seen. It wasn’t the werewolves that they’d seen that he was really worried about. It was the other things that were out there in the storm. Their capabilities were a mystery. He let the group work itself up with anecdotes about their night. Hearing it from their neighbors would convince the doubters far better than anything Earl could say himself.

“What about the injured?” a lady half-way up the bleachers asked.

“You can’t trust ’em,” Earl stated coldly. “Bites for sure, and maybe scratches. They’re infected and could turn on you.” As expected, those words caused a terrible uproar from the crowd. This was exactly why he always let Julie handle the negotiations. He was always too blunt.

Nancy Randall especially didn’t like it. “What?” The woman had enough of a reputation that as soon as she started speaking, the angry group quieted down. “Those are our friends, family. There’s no way.”

“Take my advice or leave it. Your call. I’d keep them isolated if I were you. If they start to change, do what you’ve got to do,” Earl said. Already, he could tell that most of them didn’t believe him. Sometimes the ugly truth was just too damn ugly.

Nancy scowled hard, mulling it over, but she held up her hand to silence the objections. “We’ll talk about that more later. Deputy Kerkonen said that she saw you kill a few of these things and that you were some sort of professional. How’d you know they were coming?”

“And why didn’t you warn us?” cried a different man. A friend put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he kept on. “My wife might still be alive.”

“Easy, Stan,” Nancy cautioned. “Well, Harbinger, answer the man’s question.”

They already didn’t believe him about werewolves, period; he wasn’t going to try to educate them on the finer points of lycanthropic society and the fact that Nikolai had just needed a good murdering. Luckily, before he could think of an answer, one of the guards at the main hall entrance shouted that they had movement in the parking lot. Everyone grabbed for their weapons but relaxed as word spread that it was one of the groups returning. Most of the doubters went back to cursing Earl.

The patrol came in brushing snow from their coats and stomping it from their boots. All of the scouts were shivering except for the one in the lead. Kerkonen was barely recognizable. She’d ditched her ragged sheriff’s department coat and found a big black parka. When she flipped back the hood, the difference was shocking. His human senses were weak; he felt blurry, slow and hungover, but he could already tell that she was well along the change. Her eyes gleamed just a shade too metallic, her skin was flushed, her movements too fluid. The others might not be able to tell, and she probably didn’t know it herself, but he recognized the signs from experience. Heather Kerkonen was a full-on werewolf.

And that change had occurred in a matter of hours… Normally it took weeks. Earl swallowed hard. That ain’t good.

“What’d you find, deputy?” asked Nancy.

“A lot of dead people and even more empty houses. But we found a few more survivors. They’re in the foyer getting checked for bites before I let them in,” she said. “The werewolves are on the move out there. We don’t need any in here.” That statement struck Earl as particularly ironic.

This time it was Phillip, the high-school principal, that interjected. “Not more of this werewolf nonsense. There’s got to be a rational explanation.”

Deadly serious, Heather put her shotgun over one shoulder and scanned the crowd. “I figured you might be having this conversation. I’ve got something everyone needs to see…” She motioned two men forward. Each was carrying one end of a tarp-wrapped object that was very clearly a body. “Show them.”

“Heather, there’s kids here,” said the man supporting the narrower end of the tarp. “Maybe we should-”

“They need to see it, too. There’s no time for doubt,” Heather said as she pulled her gloves off and eyed Phillip coldly. Earl had seen that look before. She was probably wondering what he tasted like. “Unwrap her.”

The two men dropped their burden. It hit the wood with a dull thud. As they pulled the blue tarp away, the crowd gasped. A few looked away.

“ Look at it,” Heather ordered.

The werewolf was female. Deprived of his sense of smell, estimating age was out of the question. Gold eyes open, the lips were pulled back over bloodstained teeth. The cause of death was obvious, since the ribcage had been broken open and the heart was gone. That would certainly do the deed. Even for the fiercest skeptics in the crowd, the mostly humanoid creature was a slap in the face.

“It must be some sort of undiscovered animal,” Phillip sputtered. “A cryptid! Or some genetic experiment that escaped.”

“Yep. There’s lots of money in crossing gorillas and timber wolves.” Earl snorted. “Those science types are downright full of wacky fun.”

Heather squatted beside the corpse, roughly grabbed one wrist, and lifted it without saying a word. The braver members of the front row got up and approached. The young vet was the first to notice Heather’s point. “It’s wearing a wedding ring.”

The skeptical faction turned to the principal, who had somehow gotten himself appointed as their leader in the last few seconds. “Somebody must have put a ring on the animal.”

“Crap. Why, Phillip?” someone shouted. “Are you retarded?”

Heather glared at Phillip. Then she roughly dropped the limb and reached for the gaping chest wound. “I noticed this while I was cutting the heart out before it could regenerate.”

There was a cluster of people around the werewolf now, looking almost like a football huddle. The soldier spoke again. “What are those bags?”

“Well, Matthew, those appear to be breast implants,” said Nancy as she stepped away from the huddle, rubbing her eyes. “Well, apparently this thing had a boob job.”

Phillip had no response to that revelation.

“There’s more,” Heather said. “Anybody recognize this?” There was a long moment of silence. The people in the circle all exchanged glances. The audience was struggling to see. Several of the witnesses began to swear.

“Rose Greer had that same tattoo, same place. We used to work together at the substation before she went to nights,” said one of them.