Date: Thu, 19 Jul 2012 16:12:02 -0400 (EDT)
From: Pwrlftrbear@aol.com
Subject: Stepping Into Forever 14

					14

	"Come on," I said and darted toward the doorway.  The stench in the
house was like a blow to the gut.
	"What is that?" Cliff said, holding his hands over his face.
	"It's our blood," Jim said, stony faced.  "I'm guessing Gene bled a
lot before...."
	He was cut off by a blood curdling scream from under our feet.
	We followed the sounds to the basement.  We found the two guards,
eyes blank, wide open in masks of terror.  Two other men seemed locked in a
passionate embrace.  Then I realized their faces were closer together than
humanly possible, laying amidst a slowly expanding crimson puddle.  Another
struggled weakly, trying to dislodge the hunting knife nailing him to the
stone wall.  Two others lay still, seemingly untouched.
	At the far end of the room, his clothes hanging in tatters from his
body was Brian.  He was more bear than man, saliva dripping from his fangs
as he held a large man pinned against the wall by the throat.  The man was
hoarsely screaming in mindless panic, his legs flailing helplessly,
clutching at the paw gripping his neck.  The stench of voided bowels did
nothing to cover the smell of blood rising from the mound of ruined flesh,
over which a large, red bearded shadow kept guard.
	"Rick!" I cried.
	He turned and nodded.
	"What happened?"
	"Gene didn't cover his tracks well enough when he saved the boy.
His father," he gestured to the screaming man, "Well, I'm not sure what he
thought.  But by the time your cub's done with him, he's not like to think
much of anything."
	He turned his cold gaze back to the enraged tableau.
	I looked at Jim, then stepped forward.  I grabbed Brian's arm and
with a snarl he turned to me.
	In the last few weeks, I had become better at reading his
expression.  Beneath the ravening mask of hatred he wore simmered a
profound grief, and something very much like guilt.
	"Brian, come back to me."



	A part of me was sickened by my behavior.  But that part was buried
beneath my rage.  My every action fed the anger burning within me,
consuming me.
	I was upon them before they could react.  I grabbed two of them by
the hair, smashing their faces together with a sound like unfired vases
being smashed.  One tried to sneak past me, but I slammed him against the
wall.  I plucked my knife out, driving it into his shoulder, pinning him to
the wall like a bug in a display.  His blood sprayed out, matting my fur as
I turned to the others.
	This was taking too long.  I lashed out, clamping my growing paws
onto the faces of two of them.  My fury burned through their minds,
rendering them as limp as boned fish.
	Finally only he was left standing.  He tried raising his rifle, but
I ripped it from his hands.  I snapped the stock, hurling the pieces to the
floor.  My hand lashed out, grabbing him by the neck, slamming him hard
against the wall, his feet dangling above the floor.
	"Little man," I growled as he clawed at my arm.  "You have awakened
the beast.  Now suffer my wrath."
	My fury burned through his mind, flaying away layers of memories.
Hope.  Love.  Dreams.  All seared away beneath my onslaught until there was
only pain.  And fear.
	Something grabbed my arm.  With a snarl I turned to find Paul
calling me.  The look on his face brought me back to myself with a shock.
	"Oh God!" I thought.  "What have I become?"



	His expression cleared and he stood blinking dazedly at me.  He
dropped the man, his features blurring to become the man I love again.
	"Oh, Papa," he whispered, tears in his eyes.  "I'm sorry."
	I took him into my arms as best I could and just held him,
whispering words of comfort, ignoring the gore soaking into my shirt.
	"Damn," Mike said, taking in the destruction around us.  "Guess I'm
glad he let me wake up again."
	He grunted as Cliff elbowed him in the ribs.
	Rick crouched down beside us.  Brian turned his red rimmed eyes
towards him.
	"I'm sorry, Rick," he whispered.
	"For what, boyo?  For not being able to save him?  You did the best
you could.  What you had to do.  Just like Gene did.  Now you get yourself
upstairs.  I don't want the child's last memory of Gene to be that," he
said, waving to the quiet corner.  "And I hate to say it, this isn't over
yet."
	We looked up at a noise on the stairs.  Something was being dragged
down them.



	Jim and I helped Brian up the stairs.  When the adrenaline had left
him, it seemed to take his strength with it.
	On the way out, shadowy figures passed us, dragging bodies behind
them.  Some twitching, others frighteningly still.  They let us pass
unmolested.
	We got him out in the fresh air where he stumbled a few feet, then
fell to his hands and knees, retching his guts up.
	"It's all right," I said comfortingly.
	The dolorous expression on his face would have made me laugh in any
other situation.
	"I know I about lost it myself," Cliff said, kneeling down beside
us.
	Brian gave him a watery smile and ripped off part of the what
remained of his shirt to wipe his mouth.
	"Where did Mark and Kip get to?" he asked.
	"Well, um...Gene asked them to help him collect his cub," Jim said.
"And I'm guessing that's them now."