Alternative Reality for a Werewolf Hunter

CHAPTER 1

One Possible Destiny

Buck Lanark found himself leisurely sitting at a large rectangular table. Billy Jo Sorland sat beside him. A conference of some sort was taking place. Buck perused the relatively relaxed environment. A small collection of unfamiliar faces encircled him. He surmised that these people were the new recruits that had been sent by Brian Bayfield. The FBI agent had promised to deliver various resources, including trained shooters, to Steven Cervi. This particular government agency was well aware of and continued to support the efforts of these self-appointed werewolf hunters.

Each person stood up and delivered a brief speech with respect to whom he or she was and what he or she did. Buck found the proceedings rather amusing and entertaining. He had stumbled into the world of werewolves and their slayers by pure accident. An unfortunate event had cost him a once joyous and prosperous life. Unwillingly, Buck Lanark had become a werewolf slayer. Later, he was discovered by the Brotherhood of the Silver Bullet. These individuals voluntarily and intentionally decided to hunt werewolves.

Subsequent to the short oratories by the new members of the Brotherhood of the Silver Bullet, the formal meeting commenced. Steven Cervi, the current commander of this secret society dedicated to the termination of all werewolves, started with a PowerPoint presentation that would reveal the organization’s strategy. As usual, the first slide in this collage displayed the logo of the brotherhood—a silver bullet with a silver circle around it. The following few slides gave pertinent information regarding werewolves in general, kill zones and other related and accumulated knowledge. Thereafter, Steven presented an aerial overview of the McAllister farmhouse and the surrounding acreage.

The plan was a simple one. After revealing their insertion point, Steven illustrated where eight snipers would be positioned. They would form a perimeter and shoot any werewolves that attempted to breach their circle. The other eight individuals, including Steven, Buck, Billy Jo and Jonathan would storm the house. This crew would slay as many werewolves as possible that were within the domicile. Those abominations that managed to escape would be slain by the snipers. Steven elucidated the details of his plan with exceptional clarity.

However, Buck had not been paying attention. His mind wandered elsewhere. He harboured thoughts that he dared not disclose to Billy Jo. Thus, Steven caught him unawares when he asked Buck to discuss the layout of the interior of the McAlister home. Catching himself daydreaming, Buck demurred the request and suggested that Billy Jo draft the blueprint. He implied that she was far more familiar with the internal layout of the domicile. Somewhat surprised by his reaction, Billy Jo rose and walked up to the front of the room. On a white wallboard, she drew relatively accurate scale floor plans of the first and second levels of the two story wooden structure. Thereafter, Billy Jo offered a detailed explanation of the rooms and doorways. Buck had not heard a word that she said.

After approximately a half dozen questions, Billy Jo was dismissed. She came back and sat down beside Buck. Noticing a vacant look upon his face, Billy Jo asked Buck if everything was okay. He lied by answering in the affirmative and further lied that he was just a little tired. Buck was afraid to tell Billy Jo what was really on his mind. Perhaps, he would at a later time. The residence had been vacant for a very long time. This once cheerful home was now infested with a multitude of embodiments of evil. Buck pondered how the hands of time had reshaped everything. A new era of malice had replaced an old, peaceful way of life in the Nottawa Valley. The meeting came to a close and Steven made one further comment.

There has been a slight change in plan. The time schedule has been moved forward. We are leaving tonight. You will report to the armory where you will be issued the appropriate weapons and ammunition. We will meet at the helicopter pad at six o’clock tonight. Since Buck and Billy Jo are currently aware of our present state of technology, we can drop the masquerade. We will be airlifted to the site and extracted from there when our mission is complete. There is no need to resort to road transportation vehicles. As all of you know, fossil fuel powered locomotion has long been obsolete. Only the general populace is still subjected to employ this archaic means of transportation due to economic reasons. We have access to the latest technology. See you at six o’clock., stated Steven and dismissed the assembled crowd.

Everyone dispersed without any further adieu. Steven remained behind to check a couple of items. He had a most uneasy feeling concerning this specific endeavor. Something seemed to be very wrong. What had he missed? His racing mind searched for answered, but came up with nothing. Thus, Steven Cervi dismissed his intuitive warnings as irrational worries. He convinced himself that everything would be fine.

It was not necessary for Billy Jo to go to the armory. She simply went back to her room and fetched her Marlin thirty-thirty and two boxes of silver bullets that Richard Kozar had specially loaded for her. Billy Jo divided the contents of the first box equally into the side pockets of her sheepskin coat. The unopened package she shoved into the left vest pocket. Forty cartridges were more then plenty for the upcoming hunt. Her rifle was already loaded to full capacity with seven shells. Billy Jo decided not to make use of a cartridge belt this evening. The battle would be short and swift.

On the other hand, Buck hurried to the armory. Eager anticipation pulsated throughout his entire body. This man looked forward to the upcoming confrontation—an opportunity to slaughter more werewolves. He had slain countless numbers of these vile creatures in the past. Yet, each hunt excited him more than the previous one. It was an intoxicating experience—an addiction that he could never get enough of.

Despite his quickness, he was not the first to arrive. He was the third in line. Patience wore thin as he waited for his turn. Finally he stepped up to the desk. Thereat, he was outfitted with a twin black hip holster and two Berretta semiautomatic pistols. Buck was given four additional sixteen shot clips of silver bullets. The handguns already contained full metal jackets. His total ammunition count was ninety-six rounds, which far exceeded what he would require. Buck had brought along his sheathed silver dagger. After donning the leather holster, he clasped the sheathed knife in the back. The mere touch of the handguns and the thought of slaying werewolves sent shivers of exhilaration up and down his spine. Buck was ready to party. He anticipated the thrill associated with killing werewolves.

Each of the eight snipers had been given a two twenty three caliber semiautomatic rifle of an unknown manufacturer equipped with a night vision scope. The rifles had detachable magazines, which were already loaded with ten rounds each. Night vision goggles and three extra ten shot clips accommodated the long-range weapon. Someone else had professionally sighted the rifles, which were dead on at a hundred yards. This particular caliber was well known for its exceptionally flat trajectory.

Four of the new recruits that would be fighting at short range were handed short barrel, semi-automatic, twelve gauge shotguns. The weapons were already loaded with five shots in the tubular magazine. In addition, every individual was handed two shell belts housing twenty-four cartridges each. The silver pellets inside the cartridges were roughly the size of green peas. In physical appearance, they resembled the standard SSG loads. The shotgun ammunition count was fifty-three shells apiece, which was more than adequate for the situation at hand. Neither of these separate and specialized units was issued side arms. They would not have need of any handguns in their specific tasks.

Steven wore his typical two-gun rig with four additional clips attached at the rear. After everyone had been appropriately equipped, the commander told his assembled crew to head towards the helicopter pad. The anti-gravity air transport vehicle that strongly resembled a helicopter, but required no fuel, was ready for lift off. Sixteen individuals piled into the spacious passenger cavity. After everyone, including Steven, was inside, the black machine took off without a sound. Within ten minutes, the Brotherhood of the Silver Bullet arrived at their destination. Unseen and unheard, the air transport unit softly landed on a quiet country road, approximately one mile from the McAllister residence. An eager werewolf termination team quickly deplaned. Thereafter, the anti-gravity vehicle rapidly vanished into the darkening sky. The twilight hour had descended. A full moon came out to play.

The paramilitary unit was ready to embark on its mission. Except for Buck and Billy Jo, everyone was dressed in an identical manner—black pants, black army boots, black ski jackets and black toques. Although Buck had accepted a black ski jacket, he wore his faded blue jeans and black cowboy boots. Billy Jo was by far the most colorfully appareled member. She had on a pale blue shirt tucked into a pair of light blue jeans, ending in a pair of beige cowboy boots. A tan colored sheepskin overcoat completed the ensemble. Buck and Billy Jo were the only two members who did not wear hats, despite that fact that Billy Jo had been tempted to bring her beige cowboy hat along. She had decided in the contrary. Golden beams of the overhead nocturnal beacon lit up her long, flowing blonde hair. She radiated in the approaching darkness.

Enrico Pellegrini was appointed supervisor of the sniper team. He and his sharpshooters were the first to depart. Initially, they would establish an impenetrable perimeter around the farmhouse. The circle of death dealing assassins would have a radius of roughly two hundred yards with the domicile serving as the central point. Their function was to ensure that no escaping werewolves proceeded beyond them. They were instructed to terminate all werewolves on sight. A half hour passed and the snipers were all in position. Utilizing a tiny radio transmitter, Enrico informed Steven that he and his men were set and alert. The commander acknowledged and turned to face his short-range fighters. They were all anxious to move in for the anticipated werewolf massacre. Buck proved to be the most impatient one.

Any lingering daylight was long gone. Dusk departed and the darkness of night settled in. A luminous full moon that had previously made its stately appearance, seemed to grow in size and brightness. Stars commenced to emerge and light up the heavenly realm. There seemed to be no clouds in the clear navy blue sky. An eerie stillness fell over the land. No nocturnal sounds could be heard and there was no wind in the cool evening air. It was unusually quiet tonight—a sort of calmness one often experienced before a storm.

Steven led the ensemble of his crusaders down the gravel road at a brisk pace and, within twenty minutes, entered the driveway that motioned to the McAllister’s former residence. The organized band of werewolf hunters stood about sixty yards from the main entrance of the house. Currently, approximately fifteen werewolves occupied the domicile. The vile creatures had gathered there for a brief meeting, prior to embarking on their despicable deeds. Timing was crucial. The Brotherhood of the Silver Bullet had to allow sufficient time for the abominations to assemble, but attack before the aberrations started to leave.

The interior of the farmhouse was lit up and dark shadows could be seen moving about inside. Beams of light emanated from within and shone unto the predominantly barren ground. An occasional patch of snow reflected the artificial light. The leader of the brotherhood calculated that now was the right time to commence the onslaught. All of the aberrations seemed to be within the confines of the wooden structure—no more seemed to be entering and none were detected to be leaving.

Their plan was relatively straightforward. They would charge through the front door and shoot as many werewolves as possible. The concealed snipers would cut down those that managed to escape the frontal attack. Hopefully, none would penetrate the erected barrier of silver death. The optimum result would be fifteen dead werewolves within the next twenty or thirty minutes. In addition, the shooters intended to come out of this ordeal unscathed. Buck could already feel the adrenalin rushing through his veins. The mere thought of killing werewolves excited him. He could hardly wait for Steven to give the order to advance.

The McAllister house had been built according to a central hall plan. As one entered through the front door, one found a wide staircase, slightly off center to the right and set back about six feet, leading to the second floor. On the right side, an archway marked the entrance to a spacious living room with four large windows and a mountain stone fireplace. Across the hall was a huge country style kitchen with an enormous wood stove, a second entrance door and three windows. The third and final room on the first level, which was located behind the staircase and the two front rooms, was a family room that measured roughly twenty feet by twenty feet. It had two windows on each side and a rear door on the end wall. The second floor contained four relatively large and comfortable bedrooms. There was no loft.

Steven divided his team into three smaller groups. Subsequent to bursting through the front door, each group had a separate assignment. Buck and Billy Jo would rush into the living room and shoot everything in sight. That was their sector to secure. Jonathan would accompany them. Steven and two of the other short-range fighters would make their debut in the kitchen and slaughter all of the abominations that they located therein. Vasko Volkovic and Peter Danforth would run upstairs and blast all the beasts that they saw up there. Survivors and prisoners were not an option. Outside of the immediate family, there were no friendlies. The enemy had to be eliminated with extreme prejudice. Everyone clearly understood his or her respective task. All of the werewolves had to be terminated on sight. The shooting would be fast and furious.

Quietly and cautiously, the assassins crept towards their destination, carefully scanning their immediate environment. Silence prevailed as they slowly walked up the gravel laneway that led to the front door of the house. Steven brought his crew to a complete halt when they were roughly three yards from the veranda. He asked Jonathan to perform a mental sweep of the interior. The purpose of the scan was to determine the exact number of werewolves on the premises and their precise locations. Jonathan. Who possessed the ability to accurately detect and locate lycanthropes, confirmed that there were indeed fifteen werewolves inside. Their intelligence report had been accurate and correct.

At the moment, eight were in the living room. Four abominations occupied the kitchen and only three moved about on the second floor. Buck became extremely excited because his sector contained the greatest number of werewolves. He would receive the opportunity to kill the most werewolves this evening. Exhilaration permeated his entire body. His eyes lit up at the mere mention of the information. Buck was truly consumed by his obsession to slay werewolves. He vibrated with joyous anticipation. Only Billy Jo noticed his near psychotic disposition, but she did not say a word—not even to Buck. Billy Jo knew the reason why Buck hated werewolves with such passion. They had ruined his life. The abominations had destroyed forever everything that he had worked so hard to build. Buck had been cast into a lifestyle that he did not voluntarily choose—but, here he was and he intended to make them all pay in blood.

Steven lined everyone up in single file at the base of the porch steps. Buck was in the lead. Not wanting to alert the werewolves inside of their presence, the commander sent Vasko to quietly and slowly open the front door. Having ascended the short flight of stairs undetected by the interior occupants, Vasko placed his left hand upon the porcelain doorknob. He quietly turned the handle and commenced to silently ease open the wooden door. Slowly, the portal that led to evil began to swing inward. As Steven had assumed it had not been locked. Nobody ever locked his or her doors in the country. There was no reason for such precautions.

Buck lost patience. Emotional anxiety erupted and suppressed logic. He could not wait any longer. Nervous excitement and feverish anticipation exploded in his mind. He forfeited control over all reason. Buck ran up the four wooden steps and kicked open the front door.

He rushed through the opening, through the archway and into the living room. Billy Jo and Jonathan hurried to keep up, but Buck was way ahead of them. The other members of the termination team entered and rapidly proceeded to their respective areas. Buck caught the eight bipedal werewolves by surprise in the center of the spacious living room. They were all startled by his sudden appearance. Seizing the fleeting opportunity of his prey’s confusion, Buck drew both Berettas and opened fire. He resembled a typical gunfighter from the days of the Wild West.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Two pistols spit silver, fire and death. Werewolves fell like flies under the heavy barrage of gunfire. Silver bullets ripped through flesh and bone. Bleeding bodies crumbled and tumbled to the wooden floor beneath. Billy Jo did not even receive a chance to lift her rifle. Buck had taken all the action. When the gun smoke cleared, six abominations lay dead and dying on the living room floor. Two survivors dashed for the rearmost window, in hopes of escaping the death-dealing executioner. Buck shot at the fleeing abominations. He was determined that none would escape his wrath. Buck beamed with delight as his pistols roared. His eyes shone brighter than the stars, reflecting all of his inner acrimony.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

Four silver slugs tore through the upper body of the hindmost aberration. The beast hit the wooden floor and slid a few feet forward. Ruptured lungs and a pierced heart brought instant death. Buck’s aim, despite his excitement, had been true. The sole remaining abomination rushed for freedom. It felt the crushing grip of death bearing down. Buck fired twice more.

BANG BANG

Only one of the two silver bullets creased the right side of the neck of the last survivor. The creature crashed through the closed window. Glass smashed and wood splintered as the black beast made its exodus. The last projectile missed the intended target completely. It just whistled through the night air. Luck had temporarily favored this dark demon.

Buck shook with excitement. Assuming that the last werewolf was gone and that it now belonged to the snipers, the shooter turned and dashed towards the archway. Buck wanted to kill some more werewolves. Perhaps, some abominations were still left alive in the other room. He was blinded by rage. His addiction grew stronger by the second and over powered all of his other attributes. In his rush, Buck brushed against Billy Jo, almost knocking her down. She was startled by his inconsiderate behavior. Buck’s eyes burned with an insane desire to kill werewolves. He saw no one and nothing else. Obsession dictated his every move.

The slayer heard gunfire coming from the other rooms and echoing from the upper floor. He wondered if he was already too late to murder more abominations. Had the other shooters already deprived him of his supreme pleasure? He would soon find out. The werewolf hunter rapidly ejected the spent clips from his pistols and let them fall to the floor. Without missing a step, he inserted fresh full metal jackets and rushed forward. Jonathan held out his hand and attempted to stop Buck in the archway.

No, Buck. Stop. Go back. The last werewolf that you shot at is not gone. He is not dead. You only creased his neck. He is coming back. You have to kill it., shouted Jonathan, desperately trying to get Buck’s full attention.

Surprisingly, he succeeded in breaking the slayer’s trance. Buck came to an abrupt halt and twisted his head to look behind himself. The shooter saw a werewolf appear out of the darkness of the broken window. He turned to fire. The creature deftly jumped back into the room and silently landed on the wooden floor. Billy Jo was directly in Buck’s line of fire. He could not shoot. The werewolf, on all four padded paws, quietly crept up on the unsuspecting lady. Buck tried to alert Billy Jo, but there was no time. The vile creature came up to a bipedal position and violently seized Billy Jo from behind. Due to the force exerted by the attack, Billy Jo forfeited her rifle. The weapon fell to the floor. She was trapped and completely defenseless.

Buck tried to position his pistols to shoot the werewolf. He could see a large section of the abomination’s head over Billy Jo’s left shoulder. However, he feared that he might strike Billy Jo by accident. Buck carefully debated his position. Jonathan stood close by and said nothing. He was not in a position to help. His function was purely of a surveillance nature. Jonathan knew nothing about strategy and tactics. He was an academic, not a fighter. Jonathan had never even fired a weapon. The werewolf resolved Buck’s confusing dilemma. The aberration changed its hold on the female captive. Billy Jo struggled in vain. She was no match for the hideous creature’s strength. Her desperate attempts to escape all proved to be futile. Billy Jo was trapped within the clutches of the werewolf with no visible means of escape.

While the left arm of the abomination tightly held the lady around the waist, the other arm moved upwards. Three sharp claws of the lycanthrope’s right hand positioned themselves at Billy Jo’s throat. Billy Jo stopped struggling for fear of having her throat slit. The vile creature dragged the frightened lady towards the opening of the smashed window. It carefully avoided its fallen comrades. At the barren, dark opening, the beast stopped and looked intently at the shooter.

Buck was stalemated. He could not do anything at the moment. Billy Jo’s life hung in the balance. The following few moments would determine her fate. Buck frantically searched his fecund mind for the optimum solution—a viable method to kill the werewolf and save Billy Jo. Nothing presented itself. The werewolf had the upper hand. In fact, the dark beast had complete control. Billy Jo’s precious life hung in the balance.

Standing very still, Buck noticed that his silver bullet had nicked the right side of the abomination’s neck. It was just a flesh wound that would bleed perpetually. The laceration was far from fatal. If the bullet had passed a half-inch closer towards the vertebrae, it would have severed the main artery and death would have ensued. However, that was not the case. The werewolf was definitely alive and full of acrimony. Vengeance burned bright in the black beast’s dark heart.

Billy Jo expressed terror in the grip of the werewolf. She assumed that she was going to die this evening. All of her hopes and dreams would perish with her.