Chapter 2 – A fight by moonlight

So how did this happen? I mean, there are already millions of stories flooding the slowly reviving Internet, basically "How I survived the Apocalypse"

This is my story.

Couple of years ago, I was a cranky old man. No, really.

Life had really gone pear-shaped on me. I was working midnights as a security guard in a factory that just epitomized the term "rust bowl."

The city of Niagara Falls had finally prevailed on the owners of the plant to knock down one of their buildings as a health hazard.

Health Hazard, indeed!

Anyway, it was about one o'clock in the morning, and I was making an external round, sweeping the beam of my heavy duty flashlight. My major concern that night was the rats, skunks and other critters displaced by the building demolition.

I didn't have any idea of what I really should have been afraid of.

"That is not dead what sleeping lies."

Got that one right, Howard.

My first warning was a weak growling.

Now, big-hearted dumbo me, I thought maybe a dog was trapped in the wreckage.

I looked for the sound, found it coming out from a pile of debris.

So far, so good.

I began picking up chunks of debris. Probably what saved me was a roller bar from a conveyor belt. It was a heavy chunk of iron, but I hefted it.

Suddenly there was a rumble, and the rocks flew aside, and a creature…staggered out.

By this time, I had dropped the flashlight, and hefted the roller bar like a Japanese Tetsubo. I did have the light of a full moon high in the sky.

"What on the Nine Holy Hells is going on?" I demanded of nobody in particular.

That fight by moonlight – I only remember bits and pieces.

Later on, the FBI told me they figured the creature was entombed in the concrete support pillars of the building, back when it was built in 1942.

Now, there are three certain ways to kill a werewolf – silver, so much destruction it can't regenerate, or cutting of it's head.

I had no silver, and no way to deliver vast amounts of destruction so, in desperation, I went to method 3A – destroy the head.

I gotta be fair, it was weak from being entombed in concrete for seventy some years – even so, I smashed the skull with the roller bar. Apparently cold iron has a deleterious effect on weres, although killed steel (Iron with oxygen and impurities removed) does not.

I had no idea what I was fighting. All I remember was teeth and claws and hideous strength. It bit the shit out of me, clawed me, but I beat the ever-loving snot out of it.

"When somebody tries to kill you, you kill'em right back." – my grandpa told me that, back in the Fifties. I laughed when Captain Mal said it on Firefly.

Right then, I wasn't laughing. I was fighting for my life. I remember brain tissue splattering all over – and the creature would stand right back up, it's misshapen head re-forming, and I'd beat it some more.

I wondered if I was fighting something like a T-1000, a fluidic lifeform that would just keep reforming until I no longer had the strength to keep hitting it.

I wasn't giving up. Not easy, anyway.

I've already "died" twice – flat line on the ECG, but the military doctors patched me up and sent me on my way. Once in Panama, once in Iraq.

Darned if I was going to die in a field in Niagara Falls.

Finally, the damned thing fell over and died. I hit it a few more times, but it didn't move.

I was bleeding bad, but I ran for the plant gate. Somehow I pulled it shut. Then I unzipped the remains of my guard jacket, pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911.

"Animal attack" I gasped. "3940 Hyde Park Boulevard, Niagara Falls" I coughed wetly, spitting out blood. "Tell…tell your officer I think I killed it, but there might.." I could see my peripheral vision narrowing. My back was to the closed gate, and I slid weakly to the ground. "…there might be more."

"How badly are you hurt, Sir?" asked the dispatcher.

"Bleeding." I replied, "bleeding bad…going to pass out now."

"Sir, I need you to stay awake. Stay on the line, I have two officers responding, they should be there in less than a minute."

I could hear the sirens approaching, from the north and the south.

I fell over and looked up at the bright full moon.

"It all has to end somewhere." I thought to myself. "Who'da thought it would be here?"

I could feel the cold creeping into my limbs, creeping to my core, as my body tried to shut down peripheral blood vessels.

"Sir, can you hear me? Sir are you there?" demand the 911 operator.

I couldn't make my mouth form the words.

THAT part, I remember, the cold gravel on my cheek as I looked at the rabbit making o-mochi. My mother was Japanese, so she didn't tell me about the man-in-the-moon. In Japan, they speak of Usagi no Mojimbo – the rabbit making o-mochi – a confection of bean paste and rice flour. Tastes much better than it sounds, I assure you.

Flashing lights, red and blue, and feet running up. "Sir! Are you…" and the words trailed off.

"Holy Mother of God." Whispered the other one. "What got him? A bear?"

I heard their holsters unsnap, and one began a report, "Dispatch, tell AMR they need to expedite, this guy is tore up bad."

My vision blanked out, but I could still hear.

"We need to get SWAT rolling, what ever tore this guy up is bad news, no joke." Said the officer.

I wanted to laugh and tell him, "Try fighting it with a metal club." But I couldn't form the words.

Then the world went away.

Chapter 03 - Waking up is hard to do