It is a little past noon when a girl clad in all black walks in to a somewhat shady looking arms store. The dimly lit store had more light pouring in from the outside through the holes in the wood paneling than what was actually in store. The clerk is not at the front desk and apparently nowhere to be found. This would normally be a problem, however there was a sign on the wall directly behind the desk that stated explicitly that everyone had guns and the store was well monitored. The girl walks past a shelf filled hunting rifles and shotguns that progressively got bigger and tougher looking.

A giant sized Master Lock tethered to a massive steel chain keeps the weapons in line and of course, prevents anyone or anything from getting to them. The girl carefully slides her finger down the buttstock of the shotgun, carefully tracing every nuance of the double buck. She smiles to herself and walks over to the assault rifle shelving that was next to it. A slightly hunched over man with a slovenly appearance approaches the girl from the right. He is an aging gentleman with a bald spot on the top of his head that he tried to cover up with a comb over.

“May I help you, young miss?”, asks the man with a slightly painted on look for a grin.

“Yes.”, answers the girl with a deafening silence afterward, still transfixed by the guns.

“Err...and how...might that be?”

“I need guns.”, she replied gripping a black medium sized duffel bag close to her.

The sales clerk gets a slightly confused look on his face and then smiles to himself.

“Ah, yes. Of course, thats why you are here, in a gun store after all. May I ask what kind of weapons you might be interested in?”

“Lightweight. Precise. Cheap ammo cost. The whole bag.”

“Ahh...well I think you might be interested in handguns and some automatic weapons, yes?”

“Yes.”, replies the girl, finally turning around to see the eager clerk.

“Ok, well, follow me then.”

When the sales clerk turns around, the girl notices that he isn't wearing a weapon.

“Wheres yours?”, asks the girl coldly.

“My what?”

“Your weapon. Sign says you carry.”

“Its...Concealed.”, says the salesman noticing her reasonable suspicion.

“Then whats the point?”

“It scares the would be robbers...”, says the man lowering his brow.

The man's answer sends up a red flag in the girl's head, but she continues to follow him until the two finally come to a small room that the clerk opens.

“You wont find better arms than these, miss...?”

“P.”

“Err...Ok. Is that it?”

“Thats just all you need to know.”

“...Right...well...”

The sales clerk pulls out 5 black hard cases and puts them on a glass counter that houses various handguns. He looks at the latches and sees that they all have combination locks on them.

“What? Forgot your combination?”, asks P in a clear taunt.

“Oh...yeah. I guess I should've told you from the drop, I'm new here.”, says the salesman with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“That explains everything...”, says the girl with a heavy sigh. “Just bring me some ammo. I can buy guns from somewhere else...”, the girl says as she turns her back on the sales clerk. At that instant, something catches her attention-a scent. A strong scent, fairly reminiscent of blood. She puts something in her mouth and then spits it into her hand.

“I changed my mind. I don't want anything no more. I'm just going to-”

“Whats wrong miss P? Is our store not to your liking? Is our selection...lacking?”, asks the man as he inches closer to the girl, his canine teeth slowly protruding.

The girl unzips and drops the black duffel bag she was carrying.

“Oh no, I just thought I smelled blood...but that would mean that a weak vampire would be near...”, the girl says nonchalantly.

“Oh, so you think you know...not that you will leave here, GIRL!”

“Is that right?”

The salesman strikes at P but she steps to the side and kicks him in the jaw. The man slides backward through the glass counter.

“WHAT ARE YOU?! A DAMN HUNTER?”, yells the man in a hot rage. “Doesn't matter. Once I transform, you won't be so smug still.”

The salesman's eyes glow red as his skin begins to burn and turn to ash. His back forcibly straightens up and his eyes roll backwards in his head. His hair fills out on his head and changes its texture to something like fur. His arms stretch and elongate and the skin of his underarms drops down to form rudimentary fleshy wings. His face begins to go more bestial, and takes the form of some sort of ravenous bat. His body then expands and enlarges so much so that his old clothes tear apart at each seam.

“NOW HUMAN, COWER IN FEAR OF ME! You can take delight in knowing you weren't the first human I killed today.”

The girl takes her shades off her face and opens her eyes, revealing golden colored irises. She then turns around and grabs a nine millimeter hand gun out of her duffel bag, cocks the weapon, and fires three shots at the monster with blinding speed and accuracy.

“Do you think that your bullets can phase me, human?!”, roars the beast.

“Phase you? No, I think they can kill you”, says P with a great hubris.

The monster's eyes then widen as it notices three gaping holes in its abdomen. Blood begins to gush out profusely.

“HOW DID YOU?”

“The bite of a werewolf is kill for vampires, yes? So the bite can be fixed as long as spit covers things, turning a...bullet into my fang...”

The monster tries to force itself up, but the damage is too great. It just lets out incredibly agonized shrieks and shrills.

“Tell me where the First Vampire is!”, demands the girl with a tenacious authority in her voice.

“I WON'T TELL YOU ANYTHING, YOU FILTHY WOLF! YOU'LL DIE LIKE THE REST OF YOUR WORTHLESS-”

The girl pulls the trigger and the bullet leaves the barrel of the nine millimeter traveling through the eye of the monster, killing it. The blood splatters on the girl as she smiles to herself. She drops the weapon back in her duffel bag and breaks the rest of the glass surrounding all the weapons that she was interested in.

You exist for one reason- to kill them. For some reason, the great God spared you among the rest.

 

The girl picks up an Uzi, inspects it, and throws it in her bag.

You are the last wolf. You are the last of the proud pack and the only creature with the power to stop those monsters...

 

The girl grabs a long rifle that looks particularly like a relic of an age long since passed- a Winchester Repeater. She smiles at its simple, yet complex design and stuffs it in her duffel bag.

 

They came from the sky, burned all the wolves alive, and killed your parents. I was there. I saw them...

 

The girl gathers ammo as well as other small weapons before she leaves the gun store. She puts her shades back on and takes her hood off, revealing a full head of short-cut gray hair, a stark contrast to her young face.

 

 

***

 

 

The sun beats down harshly on the young woman as well as the surrounding area. Sweat beads begin to form and pour down on her brown skin. She had been used to traveling long distances across the vast African plains though. She was trained in more harsh situations for the sole purpose of toughening her up to kill the monsters. The flying people. The Vampires.

She stops for a bit under a lone tree near some foothills and takes a drink out of her canteen on her waist. Even though she has a map, she was never very good at reading them. All that she knew was that she was somewhere in the Karoo-Kari. While in the shade of the green tree, she falls backward and puts her hands behind her head. Its then that she decides to do what she always does- roam aimlessly, relying only on her keen sense of smell.

After about 10 minutes of deliberating about what to do, she catches wind of a delight...a comfort-Alcohol. Somewhere out here in the barren lands was a pub, or at the very least, someone drinking a cold one. The young woman begins to regale herself with the thoughts of a nice cold beer, frothing down the side of a tall icy mug. After about 30 minutes of following her nose, and trudging through the semi desert dirt, she arrives at a seemingly rundown shack with one of those lightning diverting metal sheets over the top.

While it didn't look like much, the enticing smell of alcohol was very strong from within. She walks over to the entrance and is amazed by what she sees. Inside is a bar, a bartender, and three patrons playing a game of Poker. She makes her way past the players and to the bar. She does not notice the men checking her out slyly. She pulls out two chairs; one for her self, and the other for her bag. She then drops her duffel bag on the chair to her left and takes a seat with a hard thud. The guns and ammunition slam down and clatter loudly in the small room, catching the attention of the bartender.

“What can I do ya for?”, asks the bartender. He must've been at least 6 feet 5, easily. His eyes were full of stress, and he had a hearty beard that was well managed, but peppered with shades of gray, but other wise, it was brown, like his closely cropped hair.

“A cold one.”

“We got PLENTY a cold ones here miss. Gonna have to be more sp-”

“Erik's...Pilsner.”, says P, lowering her voice and looking around shyly.

“Aww...so you're one of them types eh?”

The girl's cheeks turn beat red. It was a known fact that 'Erik's Pilsner' was a lite beer. It wasn't just a lite beer though, it was a beer which was known for being incredibly low in alcoholic content. In other words, it was a child's beer. The kind you give to children to get them familiarized to the slick taste without the side effects of a hangover or a crazy slumber party.

“Whatever. You are a girl after all...”, says the bartender putting extra emphasis on the girl's gender

“Wanna say that again?!”, snaps the young female. Her gray bangs falling over her eyes.

“A girl. A female. The Fairer sex. Need I say more? We don't get many girls in here, but when we do, they ALL order Erik's.”, retorts the Bartender.

“Fine then, get me a 151.”

“Well, ain't you pretty? You tryin' to grow hair on your purdy little chest?”

The girl leans in close to the bartender, her shades slightly exposing the top of her eyes

“You got NO idea...”

 

 

***

 

 

“So I teld him, 'no guns there. But I do gotta shotgun between my legs!'”, says the girl in a drunken stupor. She was way too gone and way too hammered.

The bartender laughs heartily. It was clear that he hadn't had a conversation like this in a very long time.

“Hey buddy, Hey man! Whats your name? I'm...I'm gonna remember you forever man.” drunkenly sputters the young woman.

“My name? Its Francis.” replies the bartender with a slight hesitation.

“Francis?!”

“Yeah? You wanna make somethin' of it?”, he barks, as he raises his big fist up in anger at P.

“No, that name is...FINE! My name is...P!”, exclaims the girl as she extends her hand to a person who is not there at all.

“P? What kinda name is that for a Lass?”

“SHH!”, says P putting her index finger to the bartender's lips. “Its be a secret. The 'flying people' will hear it and come and try eat me.”

Francis gets a puzzled look on his face. He had heard drunken ramblings before, but never anything about flying people and cannibalism.

“What are you talking about P?!”

“A long time ago...back when the dinosaurs drove American cars...there was the dodo bird. The bird laid a man... Hey man! Hey dude. I forget your name. Can you pour me up another glass, huh brother?”, says P, raising her glass aggressively at Francis.

“Nah, I think you had enough...and you only had 3”.

“I'll tell you when I had enough, Francine!”, says P as she tries to stand up. She succeeds but then falls backward and smashes the table in half where three guys are playing Poker.

“HEY YA DUMB BROAD!”, yells one man in a cowboy hat and a red bandanna.

“Leave her alone. Shes trashed!”, yells Francis, trying to restore order to his room.

“Dumb dame should've learned to hold her pints!”, belts another man with a baseball cap on. “Isn't that right, Francis?”. He says Francis in a way that makes even Francis feel disgusted.

“How bout we teach this bird a lesson about what happens when young girls get plastered?”

“Not in my bar you won't!”, yells Frances as he reaches for his rifle. As he lunges for it, a shot is fired in his direction and hits the wall next to his head.

“Unless you wanna die for this here skirt, I suggest you stay right there! Aye, save some for me, right?”, says the man turning to look over his shoulder.

The other two men go to pick up P but they can barely lift her up.

“The hell man? What's this skirt been eatin'?”

“Well, who says we gotta take her somewhere to have some fun, aye mate?”, says the man with the baseball cap as he smiles and winks at the man with the cowboy hat.

“I like the way you think, ya limey bastard! Been a few clicks since we had some company...”, says the man with the gun coyly with a sheepish grin on his dirty face.

The man in the baseball cap goes to P's legs and tries to pull her pants off. Then he hears something.

“Hey, you wags hear that?”

“Whats the matter blokey? Gettin' a little stage fright?”

“No...its just...I thought I heard a dog growling is all...”

“I think you might've had a bit too much rum mate. You might be as loony as the bird. Shove over! I'll show you how to do it!”, says the man in the cowboy hat as pushes the other man out of the way and reaches for P's breast. Just then loud growls emit from P's mouth. Her lips then begin to quiver as saliva begins to pour down her bottom lip and onto her chin.

“Look mates, I think she likes it!”, he says as he chuckles heartily to himself. The man in the baseball cap's face begins to lose color. As the man squeezes one of P's breasts, her lips part and her fangs show.

“You like that don'tcha, huh!”

As the man reaches for her waistline, P's eyes open with a certain fury and ferocity. She then grabs the man's arm with her legs and twists her hips until a loud crunch is heard. The man's arm falls to his side, limp and twisted with the bone protruding out at the wrist. The man falls backwards flailing and screaming in pain. She rolls backward onto the broken table and on all fours, growling at everyone. She then barks furiously, as a long gray tail rises out from under her black jacket.

“BIRDS GONE MAD!”, yells the man with the gun.

The man with the gun turns around and trains it on P and fires, but he misses. She vanishes with an astounding speed and charges into him, pushing him into the hardwood bar and snapping his spine in two. He collapses over himself, face down.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!”, yells the man in the baseball cap as he pulls out a knife.

P charges at him on all fours and pushes him into a barrel of beer. It would've been fatal if he wouldn't have tripped over his own feet when she was pushing him. He did manage to stab her in the chest with the knife though, much to his surprise. P falls to her knees, blood dribbling from the wound. She then falls on her back and her shades fly off her face.

“Dumb broad!”, gasps the man as he pants and breathes deeply while trying to pull himself out of the barrel. “Barkeep, how bout a round for me and my now paralligyzed cohorts?”

The man with the broken arm continues to writhe around in pain, and the other man just keep stating he can't feel his legs.

“I can't believe you killed an innocent girl in my bar!”, yells Francis positively seething with anger.

“Yeah yeah, tell it to the Priest. I did you a favor mate. Besides, she ATTACKED ME!”

“You tried to RAPE HER!”

“She got drunk and passed out. What the hell did she expect?”, says the man as he lifts himself out of the barrel.

“Get the hell out of my bar before I call the flood!”, threatens Francis as his face begins to go bloodshot.

“And...what are you gonna do if I don't?”, says the man in the ball cap, inching towards the knife in P's chest. He puts his big boot on P's head and pries the blade out of her by force. He points the blade at the Bartender with a newfound confidence and swagger.

“You know what? I just thought of something...you can call the flood if I did leave. So, because I don't desire or want to go to the lockup, you gotta die, mate. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly. No hard feelings, eh mate?”

 

While the man is talking and walking forward, P opens her eyes and slams the man down with her legs. Instantly, he is knocked unconscious as his head smashes into another table in the bar. The bartender looks on with his jaw dropped.

“How...HOW...WHAT ARE YOU?!”

P goes back to the bar, sits down, and scratches her chest where she was just stabbed.

“Cheap knife.” She then locks eyes with Francis. “'Erik's Pilsner' please. I'll tell you everything.”

About 15 minutes later, P feels that she can trust the bartender enough, so she decides to answer any questions he might have.

“Questions, comments, conce-?”

“Yes! Tons. I just...I dunno where to begin. I mean...I uuh.”, replies Francis, cutting P off. She takes a sip from the bottle and makes a disgusted face.

“Warm...You ever heard of the 'slaves of the moon' jawn?”

“Slaves to the moon?? No, can't say that I have. Whats that got-”

“Most haven't. Another Erik's please.”, says P cutting him off, just because he cut her off first.

The bartender goes to the small mini fridge behind the register.

“I suppose I do owe you for...well I'm not sure if you saved my life or endangered it...”

“Regrets. When I drink, I lose control of my 'aminal' side.”

The bartender slides the beer down to P without opening it

“Appre...cis it! In that story, there was a tribe...These people were not the strongest tribe. They were cast off from the stronger Nation of Zulu for not being proud enough or able enough hunters. Exiled to the Serengeti and dying from thirst and starvation, the tribe prayed to God diligently and feverishly. He looked down on his people with great mercy and imbued them with the abilities to both hunt and sustain life. At first, the people thanked God everyday and every night...But soon, the people then got prideful and stopped thanking their God for their excesses and praised only their own strength. He cursed them for it. He made them slaves to the moon, and every full moon, their bodies would transform and re...con..fi..gure painfully...Thus, what you call the 'werewolf' was born.”

 

The bartender looks on in amazement and even grabs himself a glass of Erik's.

“Your girl is showing...”, says P with a somewhat uncharacteristic playful jest.

“Nope, I'm just trying to figure out what is in this stuff...”

“Its not the brew. I was born this way. I am the last wolf.”, says P confidently.

“But...you like to knock a few back. Are you sure you aren't still drunk Lass?”

P stares at the Francis as to make sure he is completely following her, then she breaks the beer bottle open on the counter. The beer splatters against the wall like a gushing blood of an open wound. Wasting no time, P turns the broken and jagged side into her neck and plunges it in. With blood spewing out, she begins to walk Frances through the steps. She applies pressure to the wound and begins.

“Normally, with this amount of blood loss...”. She winces and gasps for air. Her eyes flutter nonstop like the revving of a motorboat “I would have about 7 seconds to bleed out, especially if I hit my 'Carrot's' Artery.” P's voice raises towards the end of her last sentence as she begins to talk faster. “I should be going into shock in about 3..2..1..”

P hits the ground hard and her lips turn a dark and lifeless blue. Her skin goes pale as she lies there motionless for a few minutes. The hand that she was using to apply pressure to the wound hits the ground with a solid thud. Francis just about hops over the bar counter to get to her, but just as soon as he is about to begin his vault, P's eyes blast open as she awakens with a huge gasp for air.

“My apologies...for the mess.”

Francis stands there, stunned. It was not everyday that a person came back to life. Heck, It wasn't even everyday that the same person did so twice.

“Why did you tell me that?”, asks Francis who really isn't sure what to ask anyways.

P cracks her neck and walks back to the bar again

“Give me another Erik's and I'll tell you...and I promise I won't break it.”

Francis gives her the one that he had in his hand before she killed herself.

 

 

***

 

 

“So, you mean to tell me that you're the 'Queen of the Wolves'?”, states Francis in a matter of fact way.

“No! I never said that.”, retorts P as she takes a shot of a dark brown drink

“Well, you're the last one, right? Well, don't that also make you the first as well...?”

“In a way...”

“So then if you are the first, that means you could be royalty, 'your highness'”, says Francis sarcastically as he bows.

“Don't call me that! I aint a queen, a princess, or any word for women. I'm just a wolf who is going to average my tribe!” snaps P as she lifts the whole bottle of her drink in the air.

“Average? You mean avenge right? Ok, ok! I get you little lass...sheesh. Speaking of averages, what are you gonna do with these guys?”, asks Francis as he looks down at the wounded men.

 

P gets out of her chair and grabs the half finished bottle of “Erik's Pilsner” that she stopped drinking and walks over to the man in the cowboy hat with the broken arm and pours some beer on him. He wakes up with a gasp, spitting the beer out of his face breathing hysterically.

“Wake up!”

“I-I-I am.”

“Good.”, says P coldly as she pulls out a rather long knife from the back of her pants. The man's eyes widen in fear. She waves the knife around, making small stabbing and twisting motions.

“Please don't kill me! I'm sorry! I-I-I-”, stammers and pleads the man.

P grabs the man's arm and gives him the knife. She then flicks his nose. The man flinches and opens his eyes, blinking rather fast.

“Bite the knife.”, offers P.

“Wait! You want me to kill myself?!”, asks the man in an increased state of panic.

“Bite down on the handle.”

“Wait, why?”

P turns around and looks at Francis. “Do you have any Vodka?”

“Yeah! Why?”

“I'm going to cut his friend off and drink while I do it.”, says P in a deadpan way. Francis nods and turns to get the Vodka. The man can't believe what he just heard.

“WAIT! NO! I'm SORRY. I'm SORRY. I DIDN'T WANT TO RAPE YOU! I'm...I'm a nice guy!”

“Really?”, asks P in an extremely sarcastic way.

Francis finally throws P the bottle and she catches it.

“You like Vodka, friend?”, asks P to the man, who is beside himself with fear. Beads of sweat begin to pour down his head and his face becomes flush.

“Uh..YEAH. Yes I do! I love vodka.”, says the man, clearly trying to get on P's good side. P lifts the bottle over the man's head and pours half the bottle over his head.

“Drink up. Since you love it so much.”, says P taunting the man as he begins to gurgle in the Vodka. P then pours the vodka over the man's arm. The man winces and twinges in pain because it stings and burns.

“Does that hurt? Aww, poor baby. Don't worry, I promise it won't hurt as much as THIS!”

P grabs the man's arm at his forearm and the top of wrist. She raises her open palm and smashes the man's fractured wrist bone back into his arm. She then spits on his wound and instantly it closes back up.

“Get up and get your friend with the ball cap”, demands P to the man. The man gets up and flexes his arm and bends his fingers one by one.

“The pain! The pain! Its gone! ITS GONE! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!”, exclaims the man in an almost delirious happiness.

P kicks the man in the back. She then goes back to the bar and sits down in her chair and resumes sipping her beer.

“How...How did you?”, asks Francis with a surprised yet confused curiosity.

“Vodka can be used as an antisteppertic...”

Frances crosses his arms and smiles to himself. The man in the cowboy hat retrieves the man in the ball cap, who happens to have a nasty lump on the side of his face.

“Be healed!”, exclaims P as she spits on the man. The man doesn't think its very funny and gets angry. It takes the man in the cowboy hat to point out that his lump is now gone.

“Well...I'll be...the bird did it!”

“Go get your friend with the bad back. Bring him to me.”

“And why should I-?!”, snaps the man in the baseball cap, but he is stopped by the other man.

“Show her some respect, Johan. She could've killed us. Just get Thomas.”

“Yeah Johan, do as you're told. Wouldn't want to slip again and hit your head, right?”, mocks Francis from behind the bar with a big sheepish grin on his face. Johan grumbles to himself and as he walks by, P makes her tail slap in in the back.

The two men carry their friend over to P.

“Lets see your spit fix this one”, quips Johan in a wise guy sort of manner.

P takes a deep breath and her hands begin to turn into claws. She then spits on her hands stabs through the third man so hard that her hand comes out his back. She fishes around inside the man's body and reconnects his spine. She then pulls her hands out of his body and taps him on the head.

“Drop him and let him stand on his own!”, exclaims P as her eyes glow golden. Even Johan complies with the quickness. The third man falls to the ground and gets up.

“I bet you won't play with guns anymore”, says Francis in a taunting manner as he reaches for his rifle.

“No. No I won't”. He then turns to P. “I'm so sorry miss. Please forgive me. If there is anything I can-”, says Thomas with a monk like sincerity.

“Two things. One, buy me a drink. Two, don't let me ever see you abu..sssing women ever again. Otherwise, I'll finish the job!”, yells P as she also uses Thomas' shirt to wipe his blood off her hands.

“Yes Miss! We will be on our best-”

“Alcohol. Now. Get lost.”

All three men leave more than enough money on the bar counter and run out the door. All Francis can do is laugh heartily.

“What are you laughing at?”, asks P with a deadpan look.

“You had them running with their tails between their legs... Thats funny.”

“Ha. Ha.”, says P, dryly. “Well I don't believe in murder. Its against my religion.”,says P as she pulls out a cross from inside her shirt. Now, if you will excuse me...”, she says as she stands up and stretches her back.

“Woah! Where you goin'!”

P check her watch.

“Got a train to catch.”

“Aww little lass, I'll drive you there. No sense in you walking. Theres one right around the corner. I'll just lockup shop and we'll be set.”

“Thank you. I really appre...cots it.”, says P as she extends her hand out to Francis.

 

 

***

 

 

Francis' truck isn't exactly a luxurious ride. Its almost nearly rusted through. The tires are nearly bald, and only the driver's side door works. P wonders if she would've been better off just running to the train. At least she might be more comfortable, and she wouldn't have to be subject to Francis' poor music selection.

“Do you have any other music?”, laments P after hearing the same song for the third time.

“I do, but this is my favorite.”

“...Its the same song...”

“No its not! The first one was the radio edit. The second one was the Skrillex remix. The third was the original extended length.”

“...Do you have some silver?”

“Wait, thats true? Silver hurts werewolves?”

“Yeah. I'm allergy to silver...its why I asked you to put me out of my mystery...the music and all...”

“Aren't you...I dunno, scared? And its 'misery' by the way...”

“Of ...?”

“Well, I'm just saying...you're telling me all these things. You don't even know me.”

“Maybe I just feel like I can trust you, and even if you tried to cross me, I could kill you”

“Thats against your religion though...”

“If its to protect my life, exceptions will be made...”

“I guess so. ...Hey theres something I wanna know...”

“What?” asks P as she looks out the window at the passing phone polls.

“When you spit on that John back at the bar, what did you- I mean-”

P stretches out and yawns “Oh that. Wolf saliva contains chemicals. It can be fatal to vampires. I didn't know what it would do to normal human though...

“So then...you're like a god?”

“Not really.”

“You...should relax a bit. Laugh a little. I'd tell you you'll go gray but...”

“I age slower, but...the phys..ical tells of hair color loss shows for me.

 

The two finally arrive at the train station. Francis gets out of the truck and P finally scampers out with her duffel bag in tow.

“...And this take me to Tanzania?”

“It should. This train goes everywhere in Africa.”

“Well, I thank you for everything Mister Frances.”

“Its no problem, and hey, if you're ever in the 'Fontain' in the future, drop by anytime...”, says Francis choking back some words.

“Yep”,. says P as she turns and heads into the rail station. It is a modestly sized white brick building with a huge bay window on its left side. There are about three steel arches connected to the surrounded gates lining the perimeter. You couldn't miss it if you tried, especially out here. There weren't very many interesting architectural structures, when there were structures. When P walks into the building, she sees a large amount of people yelling and screaming in unison. Some are holding up signs, others are just wearing their underwear. She grips her bag tightly and tries to cut through the people. In the middle of the organized chaos, someone grabs her arm and pulls her.

“Let me go. I need to-”

“The Train is closed”, says a male voice. Its as smooth as silk and easily calming. P tries to search for a face to match the voice to. There are just too many faces though.

“What do-?”

“All of the workers are on strike. Unethical hiring practices and severe pay cuts that threaten as well as throw us out on the street. That is why we protest. Would you like to join us in the struggle my sister?”, asks a tall black man in a red and white striped shirt.

“No.”

P turns around to walk away but someone grabs her duffle bag and yanks it with a strong tug. P turns around with a nonplussed look on her face

“Let go.”

“Since you do not want to support our struggle my sister, maybe you will be willing to make a generous contribution...”, says the man in an almost convincing tone.

“I don't have money, now let me go!”

“Do you expect us to believe that? You were going to board a train without paying?”

“JUST LET GO!”, yells P in the center of the crowd, causing everyone to stop their protests and turn and look at her.

“Sy Ondersteun nie ons probleem nie. Gryp haar!” (She doesn't support our problem. Grab her!)

The mob of people all gang around her and forcefully take her duffle bag from her and pass it to the tall man- the ring leader. The ring leader then unzips her bag and his eyes widen in surprise.

“I see now why you did not want to donate to our cause. You had an agenda of your own...”

“So then give me my bag back!”, says P fighting to control her urge to transform.

“No”. says the man. He then takes her bag and turns his back on the rest of the mob. “Ontslae te raak van die vrou. Sy is gevaarlik!(Get rid of the woman. She is dangerous!) We can do a lot more good with these anyways...”

The mob closes in on P and begins to punch and beat her. The more they beat her, the more she loses control. It starts with a wild fist that comes down on just above her eye. She growls. Then one on her forehead. She barks three times. As she fights to keep control of herself, her eyes continuously flash bright gold behind her shades.

 

The mob doesn't seem to notice the changes happening. While the beating is going on, the ring leader pulls out an Uzi and admires its craftsmanship longingly. Finally, P's shades fall off her face revealing her full on golden eyes. Her fangs shoot from her mouth and she lets out a ferocious howl. Almost immediately, the crowd stops whats they are doing and begin to back up slowly. P lunges forward is about to strike the first face she sees but she quickly regains her sense of reason. She falls to one knee and grabs her head.

“You...can...keep my bag. Its not that...”

The ring leader turns and looks at P while he is holding a nine millimeter that he took from her bag.

“Finally, you see things my way. But tell me, are you Zulu?”

P reels in pain but finally answers his question “No, my people were cast from the Zulu.... I am Omoi!”

The ringleader's eyes widen.

“I have heard of your tribe. It was too weak for the Zulu. You weak ones had to use animal spirits to get anything done. But tell me, does your animal spirit protect you from bullets?”

P's eyes widen as the ring leader aims the gun at P and fires three rounds into her. P drops to the ground, blood pouring out from every hole. She looks up at the people with great content as her eyes rollback in her head. She takes her last breath and passes out.

“Neem haar na die Karoo! Let the weak die and the strong survive...may the wretched beasts and worms have a meal tonight...”

The mob all cheer and cry out as they grab P's body and carry her off.

 

 

***

 

 

A caravan of jeeps and trucks stop off in a random stop in the middle of the desert. Four people from the rear truck in the formation dismount and grab something wrapped in a white cloth from the back of their flatbed truck. The four seem to struggle with the weight of this thing, so rather than drop it off far from the road, they toss the thing next to the road. They give a signal with their hands and hop back in their white sand stained truck. And just like that, the convoy disappears as fast as it arrived, kicking up a massive pile of sand on the object. After about 10 minutes, the the white cloth slashes down the middle and a head full of gray hair emerges. Its P. She takes a huge gasp of air and begins to make her way out of the sack. Thoughts from when she was a child begin to flood her mind as she wonders how she will get out of this situation.

 

 

***

 

 

It was hot that day. It was always hot, but this day was particularly hot. A little girl walked out in the middle of the village and rubs her head. The well was too far for her to walk by herself so she decided to go get her parents. Along the way, the girl passed by the village's depository for alcohol. Her parents had once told her never to go there, but the allure of the condensation on the side of a brown glass reminded the girl of herself- brown and covered with sweat.

This enticed the girl more than any tasteless and very bland well water ever could. Carefully and surreptitiously, the little girl sneaked over to the mud hut full of adult delights. Oddly, there were no grown ups around. Come to think about it, there were no adults anywhere to be found in the village this day. It was quiet. The perfect conditions for a little girl to get herself into some trouble. The small girl finally got closer to the drink and peered at it most longingly. The condensation rolled off the sides slowly and joined with another drop and became one bigger drop traveling even faster than the first.

Eagerly, the girl grabbed the bottle and took it to the bottle opener, which was on the bar counter of the hut. She had seen the village elders do it so easily, so she had already had a vague idea of what to do with the invention. She slid her bottle under the opener and hooked the small metal lip under the metal crimp of the cap. She then puts all her weight on the back edge of the bottle opener and the cap pops up with an airy pop. She looks at the bottle in amazement and puts the top of her mouth and begins to drink. Initially, she hates the bitter taste and pulls the bottle out with a huge look of distaste and disdain, but she goes ahead drinking more supposing that the drink would get better as she went. It didn't. However, that didn't stop her from finding three more drinks and popping those open.

After her second bottle, everything started to warp and look different. Her vision was blurry and her face was numb to the touch. She liked the feeling though, so she drank more. And the more she drank, the more the funny feeling got better. She couldn't believe that this brown water was something her parents told her not to ever drink, so she set off to tell them about this wonderful magic water. While she was walking, she stumbled a couple times and couldn't remember where she lived. She turned a corner and still didn't see anyone.

Not even the older children playing soccer. That was odd because they were always there. Even if the little girl was drunk, she still knew something was off. While trying to walk in a straight line, the little girl fell and couldn't get up. She rolled over, but that was all she wrote. She was stuck on her back, much like a turtle or a roach. Giving up her struggle, she just stared at the clouds. It was then that the sky went gray. The girl didn't know what was going on, but she supposed that she was tired and closed her eyes. After the sky turned gray, a gigantic bat-like creature descended down.

 

 

***

 

 

P takes a deep breath and comes back to her senses. She then doubles over on her knees and begins to vomit. Nothing but the three bullets come back up. She gathers her bearings and stands up slowly, wiping her mouth of the errant waste. She knew she had to get to Tanzania, but without that train, she could not make it there in a timely fashion. Back in the Karoo Desert where she started, she decides to head southward to Cape Town. At least from the Cape she could find civilization again and with civilization came the possibility of a real and most likely strike free train system. She checks her hip and cannot find her knife or her canteen. They were stolen from her when she was passed out. They had supposed she was dead anyways.

At that moment, she decides to do something crazy, for her atleast. She closes her eyes and focuses all her senses, carefully listening, or smelling out for any signs of engine revs or hums of a truck or jeep. Then she opens her eyes in excitement and gets into a runner's stance on all fours. She takes off so fast, she kicks up a dust cloud behind her. She follows the road for what seems like minutes before she comes across a convoy. The same convoy that left her for dead. She runs a bit faster and catches up to the sand stained white truck in the rear. With a mighty leap, she hops on the bed with a thud. She then jumps onto the hood of the truck, surprising the four men. The truck then swerves and slides to the left and right on the road.

P jumps off the hood of the truck and on to the back of the vehicle in front of it. She latches on to the spare tire mounted on the back of the jeep. She pulls her face up, and uses her keen sense of smell to sift through the sand, exhaust, and burning fuel to get the faint smell of gunpowder and carbon. Once she locates it, she vaults forward off the tire with an effortless front flip onto the roof of the jeep.

Once again, her unexpected presence on the hood of the jeep scares the driver and the passengers. P turns and looks at all the people and crosses her arms while keeping her balance on the hood. With a ninja-like gracefulness, she does a back flip onto the next vehicle's truck bed. Thats where her guns were, and most likely her canteen and knife. Once she climbs up onto the roof, she decides to peek into the window. She leans over roof of the topside and looks into the cab of the truck at the driver and the passenger- the Ringleader. The man's brown skin practically goes white when he sees P. Then she vanishes.

“I thought she was dead! I killed her myself!”, the man says to himself in an extremely panic way. His heart is practically skipping a beat.

“Waar did sy-?”(Where did she-), asks a young female passenger from the backseat.

Her question is answered when a hand punches through the roof and grabs the steering wheel. With P's hand firmly locked onto the wheel, she tugs the wheel hard to the left causing the vehicle to veer to the left wildly.

“Gryp haar aan die arm en weer beheer van die jeep!”(Grab her by the arm and regain control of the jeep!), yells the ringleader.

The driver looks at the ringleader and then back at the hand controlling the truck. He then jumps out the truck and hits the hard ground like a rock. What the ringleader didn't see was that P also dropped a heavy stone on the pedal. With the truck off of the road and driving into uncharted territory, P lets go of the wheel and rips the soft top off the truck.

“This truck will coll..crash with a foothill in a few minutes. Gimme my bag, and I'll save you.”

“No!”, Yells the ringleader. It doesn't matter though because the passenger in the backseat holds up the bag anyway.

“Please forgive us. Jammer! Jammer! Ek wil nie om te sterf!”(Sorry, sorry! I don't want to die)

P grabs the bag from the young female and pulls her up at the same time.

The ringleader fires a shot at P with her own nine millimeter. P dodges while holding the young woman and her bag with one hand and the two dangle over the side of the jeep as it is careening through dry shrubbery.

“I HAVE TO LET YOU GO!”, yells P trying to cover her face from all the dust that is being kicked up.

“Ja!”, confirms the young woman.

P loosens her grip on the young woman's hand and the girl drifts backwards until she hits the hard ground tumbling. P refocuses and pulls herself into the driver seat of the truck with her duffel bag strapped to her back. The ringleader tries to fire another shot at P, but she slaps him in the throat. In his sudden pain, he drops the gun. P with her lightning quick reflexes, catches the weapon and pulls it back. Noticing the truck is about to hit the foothill, she cuts the ringleader's belt with her finger, grabs him, and barrels out of his side door.

They hit the ground once, bounce off of it, then land in a gathering of sticks and stones. The truck hits the foothill at an angle and does a series of barrel rolls in the air before it smashes into the hard ground front-left side down first.

The ringleader gets up relatively unscathed. Aside from the annoying pain in his neck, he is alright. Underneath him though was P, as she took the brunt of every impact, jagged stick, and desert rock. The man looks down at P but then makes his trek to the road. P gets up holding her head. Realizing she made a promise to the girl, she runs back to the young girl and goes to check on her.

“Are you alright?”, asks P upon looking at the girl's dirt covered body.

“I'm fine...Ek's goed, dankie!”(its good, thanks), replies the girl. She was lying. Her leg was broken and P could see it.

“Do you speak English?”

“Net 'n bietjie...umm... a little.”

“Do you know how to get to Cape Town from here?”

The girl looks at P with a confused look. P sighs and spits on the girl's leg. Instantly her leg repairs itself. She then writes the words what looks like the words “C-pa Towu” in the dirt followed by an upside down question mark. The girl, with a delighted look on her face points in a direction.

“Ek kan vir jou wys! Kom saam met my! Come. Come.”, beckons the young woman.

                 ***

The two women walk for what seems like hours. The red haired woman stop and falls down face first in the dirt, dead tired and exhausted. P's mind wanders and drifts to a different time, back to that day...

 

The young girl opened her eyes. The once blue skies with the scorching sun had been replaced with gray and darkness. Picking herself up, which she previously unable to do, she tried once again walking home. On the way she saw what looked like giant dogs mauling huge bat-like creatures. There was much panicking and people running back and forth. Seeing all these things, the child took off running in a frightened state too. She didn't notice that she was running into an already fierce battle between the flying people and her tribal elders.

A huge gray wolf with blood dripping from its eye rams into one of the creatures. They both tumble downhill and smash the mud hut pub that the child just left. The child feels the horrifying tremor of the massive creatures descent and falls on the ground face first. She is still buzzed from the magic water to really register what is going on. The bat like creature grabs the elder wolf and sinks its massive fangs into its back. The massive beast lets out a loud howl full of pain and anguish. Three other giant wolves, a white, a red, and a black one, rush over to the aid of the elder and they all howl in unison. They then start to snarl and encircle the bat-like creature. The white wolf strikes first. Mid lunge, it is grabbed by another bat-like creature and slammed into the ground. The creature then picks up the wolf again from the rear and bear hugs the wolf until a loud snap is hear. This enrages the red wolf so much that it bites the head off the bat creature. The white wolf then falls weakly and begins to transform back into a human. The black wolf catches the human on it's back and tries to go somewhere safe.

The child pulled herself up and turned around to see that the black wolf was surrounded by three bat-like creatures. The bats all circled the black wolf and struck at it. One creature had actually wounded the wolf, but it had an oath of allegiance to its wounded friend. The black wolf then charged at one of the creatures, sank its massive canine teeth into its arm, and ripped it off. The severed arm landed next to the child and covered her in its crimson spray. The child then let out a primal scream filled with an irrational child's fear.

The wolves and the bat-like creatures all zeroed in on the screaming child. The Red wolf took off in a mad dash to scoop the child up, but the remaining bat-creatures had surrounded it and took hold of the wolf's hind legs and pulled them out from under the mighty animal. Another bat swooped from the sky and landed directly on the neck of the tough wolf. The Red Wolf was down. It then began to turn back into a human again. The human and the child made eye contact and the child realized that the Red wolf was her mother.

 

P wakes the red haired woman up by licking her face, since the canteen that she had was empty. The woman wakes up rejuvenated because of P's saliva.

“Jys baie gaaf!”, exclaims the young woman with her arms wide.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“Umm...Kind. You are.”, says the girl pointing at P.

“Oh...thank you...”

“Wat is jou naam?...umm name. Name?”

“...P.”

“Ah, Ja! P. My naam is...Katrien.”

Katrien extends her hand out to P and P shakes her hand and leaves with her with a small handgun.

“Wat? Hoekom?”(What? Why?)

“You are going to need that out here. Especially-”

The two women feel a huge, earth shaking tremor in the ground under their feet.. Just before their current position, the ground divides and a massive worm-like creature arises. Then the skin around its mouth rolls backwards and a full mouth of teeth similar to a shark, but on a much more grand scale, show. It releases a crazy roar that sounds like a rabid war cry.