The Witch and the Werewolf Read online

  Reid cringed. DC, like many of the coastal cities around the world, had been swept under the furious tsunamis produced as radioactive chunks of Wormwood rained down on the world’s oceans. Those refugees that had survived the waves poured inland, away from the coasts, dragging pestilence and disease with them along with the stories of life down on the coasts. Not that life in Minot, after Worm Fall, was much better. They just had the advantage of being on the base and underground.

  He started shivering again and, to warm up, swung the pick ax once again. “I don’t know that we’re ever going to just dig our way in. Not like this,” he observed, picking the ax up and slamming it down once more.

  Hundreds of troops from all branches were strung across the rocky spit of land known as Cheyenne Mountain. Many, like Reid, wielded pick axes and shovels. Others drove bull dozers and back hoes. Explosions filled the night, lighting up the black as other soldiers tried to blast their way in. Reid half figured the exercise in futility was the Brass’ way of giving them something to do. Hundreds of soldiers with no war to fight dying on a forced march to Colorado just meant fewer mouths to feed later. Dozens more had died in the frigid cold of the nuclear winter since they’d arrived at the underground military installation.

  “What the hell do you think happened to them anyway?” Wilkerson asked. “Those fuckers had it made, even better than us. I heard they even had swimming pools down there. Can you imagine that shit? Swimming pools.”

  “I heard it was kind a plague,” Reid answered. “Franky over in comms heard their last message. It was all about fucking dying and bleeding. Real creepy shit. There was all sorts of gunfire and…”

  “And what man?”

  “Screams. There was a metric shit ton of screaming. We were on the road a day later.”

  “Cut the shit,” Sergeant Rodriguez ordered. “And keep swinging that fucking pick axe.”

  Wilkerson worked his way over to Reid and whispered. “So what the hell do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know man. End of the world, cabin fever… you know how it is.” Reid was from Houston. As far as any of them knew, there wasn’t a Houston anymore. He’d had the same sense of doom and hopelessness in the shelters. His family was gone. Everyone he’d ever known, gone to school with, everyone besides his fellow soldiers that he was crammed into the bunker with were gone. He could see how someone would flip out and go bat shit crazy in a bunker. Throw in a bunch of ordnance and it was a recipe for a bad time.

  “So what do you think we’re going to find down there? A bunch of skeletons?”

  “Naw,” Reid told him. “There hasn’t been enough time for the flesh to rot off. And the humidity in there’s going to be low. It’s just going to be a bunch of corpses.”

  “Fuck man. You’re one sick ass dude.”

  Wilkerson shivered and the two men continued working. It was hard work in the bitter cold. The cloud of debris and dust kicked up as Wormwood and its smaller pieces slammed into the planet blocked out most sunlight, leaving the daytime world in a gray twilight. They worked with headlamps and bundled up in multiple layers of clothing but the six month long winter tore at his bones. Every strike of the pickax against the hard rock of the mountain sent shocks of pain through his body. It was for a good cause, he kept telling himself. Maybe the President could do something to pull us out of this mess.

  If he was still alive.

  “I’m through!” he heard from further down the mountain. Another squad of soldiers was jumping around enthusiastically, pointing at the hole they’d been working on. Other’s dropped their implements and slowly the remains of the 1st Minot Expeditionary Brigade made their way towards the hole. Reid and B Squad were close, so he actually got to see down into the hole.

  Flickering fluorescent lights cast shadows about a small hallway. The floors and walls were battleship gray cement. Reid was sure the survivors would have heard all the commotion as the 1st Minot tried to burrow into the base, if there were any. There were thousands of sensors and cameras scattered about the mountain and yet not a single person was waiting for them.

  “They’re all dead,” Wilkerson whispered at his side. “It’s a fucking graveyard.”

  “Make way,” a soldier said, pushing his way through the crowd.

  Reid turned to see heavily armed incursion troops shoving their way through. The men were geared to the ninth. He had to wonder what the men were expecting as they entered the facility. The crowd grew quiet as the men dropped down into the hallway, assault rifles at the ready. The leader motioned for them to head down the hall, into the facility.

  “Okay, fuck twits,” the Sergeant told them. “Break it up. We’ll all be inside soon enough. The General has authorized extra rations for lunch,” he told them. “So head back to camp. Well done.”

  Reid turned to leave when they heard the first burst of machine gun fire from inside the complex. The soldiers as one turned back to the hole. Next came the screams.

  “What the fuck is that?” Wilkerson said, his voice two notches short of full blown panic. “What the fuck is down there?”

  Reid looked down in the hole as the facility went quiet again.

  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Moments later a man emerged from the hole. He was dressed in a ragged business suit and Reid was struck by the tiny little American flag lapel pin. The creature opened his eyes, which glowed bright red, and bared two long sharp fangs that dripped crimson.

  “I’m so happy you dug me out,” the thing said with a mischievous grin. “I was just about out of blood.”

  Two Moon Dawn continued in Our Lady of Pain

  About the Author

  John is a transplanted Texan and currently mayor of Hooker Island, Oklahoma. He is a fourth generation oilfield worker, occasional drunk, and epic doer of mostly useless stuff. He is aspiring to be an aspiring writer while doing a bit of Redneck Gardening on the side. He is married to the most fabulous woman on the planet and has five mostly evil children.

  He writes what he likes to read, which is a bit of everything.

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