Werewolf's Humanity

Apex Predator, Part 4

The vest mocked him.

He parked his car and turned off the engine. It lay in the seat beside him, lined with explosives he'd made himself. The thing about guys who worked in forensics, they loved to talk about their work to anyone who would listen. And Donnie was a good listener.

With shaking hands, he strapped the vest around his body. Donnie wasn't suicidal. His friends in the psych department would have a lot to say about that if he was. But ridding the world his wife's murders took precedence over his own life. The vest was insurance. If any of them woke up on him, then he would detonate and take them all out at once. That was Plan C.

He was going to sneak into a cave full of sleeping vampires, line their lair entrance with explosives, and bury them alive. Any that wouldn't be crushed under tons of debris would starve to death in a matter of days. That was the ideal. That was Plan B.

Sammy had been Plan A.

For the millionth time that day, he fingered the ring around his finger. Donnie believed in many things, but he had ruled our ghosts. Throughout the history of mankind there had been countless billions who lived and died. If it were possible for people to come back after death, then the law of averages mandated that there would have to have been concrete sightings and documentation by now. The world would be filthy with spirits floating around everywhere. So he didn't believe his Lisa was a ghost out there somewhere. But he still indulged himself with the fantasy that if she was out there somewhere, then the band on his finger anchored her to him and provided him with a way to talk to her.

"Wish me luck, babe," he said to her before donning the night-vision goggles that Lisa had given him on their last anniversary and hopping out of the car with a backpack full of bombs.

He was sweating by the time he made it to the mouth of the cave. His was not a body built for long hikes, especially when carrying enough ordnance to demolish a modest home. He hoped against hope that they wouldn't be able to smell his perspiration over the stench of their own decomposition. Vampires reeked of death, both their victims' and their own rotting bodies. No matter how quietly he tried to breath, adrenaline caused him to take deeper breaths. Had he always breathed this loud? His heart throbbed in his head so loud, they had to be able to hear it down there.

No turning back now. He had spent over a month planning this and he was not going to let anyone stop him. Not his own doubts, not Sammy's cowardice or his pack's own agenda. Down into the abyss Donnie Prescott descended, perhaps never to emerge.

It was warm down here, warm and clammy as a fever-ridden body. Water dripped from stalactites, offering Donnie a strange sense of comfort. Irrational as it was, he couldn't help feeling that if the vampires could sleep through that sound, then perhaps the sound of footsteps would not awaken them. He had made it this far without alerting them.

Nine vampires, three men and six women, lay sleeping in a huddle on the ground in various states of undress. He recognized a college girl who had been reported missing three months ago. They had turned her instead of just killing her like the others. Killing would have been the greater mercy. They were like animals, living only to eat and have sex. Had Lisa been turned, she would have killed herself rather than become a depraved murderer.

He didn't gawk long. It was time to get to work. The internet was a wonderful resource. It had taken a couple hours of online research to learn how to best ascertain the structural weak points in a cave and avoid them--or, if one inverted the logic, how to exploit them to cause a cave-in.

Treading lightly, he made his way around the vampires, giving them a very wide berth. One of them snorted and he froze. He winced as he watched one of the women roll over, revealing bare breasts covered with bite marks. But she was still asleep. Donnie reminded himself to breathe again.

He bent over to arm another bomb. Cautiously, slowly, he found level purchase for it and eased it behind a stalagmite. Just as he released his fingers around it, something clamped around his neck. Suddenly Donnie was in the air, suspended by his shirt. He could not help shouting in shock as he realized the topless woman had been awake after all. She ripped his goggles off.

"What's this?" she rasped into his ear. The hair on his neck rose when he realized she was sniffing him. "You smell... familiar."

Behind them, the others began to stir, awoken by the commotion. Someone switched on a tiny electric lantern, casting a pale white glow throughout the cavern.This was it. Donnie was screwed. But he still had the bombs on his vest, and the others were still in his backpack right underneath him, right at the woman's feet. All he had to do was push the button on the modified walkie-talkie, which would send out the signal that would trigger the explosives. A second press of the button would send the signal designed to trigger his vest. He stopped struggling and grasped the walkie-talkie.

"What's going on, Cassie?" a voice asked, and Donnie dropped the walkie-talkie.

"No," he whispered, "no, no no no no..."

"Found this human sneaking around in our den," the woman explained. And then she sniffed him again. "He smells like... you."

A pale, drawn-out imitation of Lisa circled into his field of vision. Donnie tried to look away, but her hand shot out and grabbed his face, twisting him around. Patches of her hair, once beautiful golden with red highlights, had fallen out. And the red stains now in her hair were not henna.

"Donnie?" asked the walking corpse of his wife.