Eigengrau colored the world.
A deuce-and-half truck, absent a back tarp, thundered past the two. As they got closer, they saw in the heart of the neighborhood two emergency medical technicians, Farah and Amina, engulfed in chaos as they navigated through the aftermath of a recent explosion. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and burning debris, assaulting their senses with a mixture of charred materials and the metallic tang of blood. The wailing of sirens and distant cries melded into a dissonant symphony of despair.
The presence of dead feral werewolf bodies added an eerie layer to an already nightmarish scene. The air was thick with the pungent scent of burnt fur, a lingering reminder of the impossible legends that came to reality. Tufts of hair, set adrift by the updrafts of nearby fires, danced in the air, and some were inhaled unwittingly by those in the vicinity.
The streets were crowded with disoriented and injured people, their faces etched with fear and confusion. People, already overwhelmed by the devastation, reacted with a mix of horror and disbelief at the sight of the dead werewolves. The juxtaposition of the more human-like appearance of the creatures with their lupine characteristics created an unsettling tableau. The realization that these were once transformed humans elicited gasps and muted exclamations from onlookers.
Some individuals, fueled by curiosity or perhaps a desperate attempt to make sense of the surreal scene, reached for their smartphones. The familiar hum of camera applications and video recordings punctuated the air. The harsh glow of screens illuminated faces frozen in disbelief, capturing the gruesome aftermath.
Frantic family members clung to one another, searching desperately for loved ones amid the devastation. The ground beneath their feet was uneven, scattered with debris, shattered glass, and the remnants of what were once bustling storefronts. As the news of what happened rippled through the crowd, whispers of curses and misinformation circulated among the survivors. Their attempts to understand the inexplicable adding an additional layer of tension to the already fraught atmosphere.
Farah and Amina rushed through the scene, their eyes scanning for those in urgent need of medical attention. It did not matter, one was Pakistani and the other Israeli with the two women. They helped the wounded and dying. Exhausted in the war-ravaged army camp, splattered in dried blood, they saw their new world.
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_4933e5df289ceb820e81fc3a258b1bb1.jpg](Image credit: [Farah and Amina] Gencraft AI prompt generated]
The mangled wreckage of cars lay strewn across the road, their twisted frames testament to the force of the blast. Nearby buildings, now skeletal structures, belched smoke into the hazy sky, flames licking at the remnants of shattered windows.
The dead werewolves, more reminiscent of twisted hybrids than mythical creatures, lay among the debris like grim trophies of a battle between humans and the supernatural. No full moon in sight. Everything people thought they knew of these creatures was wrong. The stark reality of war left those present grappling with a new layer of fear, uncertainty, and the harsh realization that their world had become a battleground for forces beyond their comprehension.
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_1da99b9346f5d38ecd2a73cb375890ab.jpg]
(Image credit: [Emilee and Josie] Gencraft AI prompt generated]
Explosions echoed in the distance, a constant reminder that danger lingered nearby. The concussive blasts sent shock waves through the air, causing the EMTs to instinctively duck for cover. The intermittent rumble of collapsing structures added a sinister undertone to the cacophony, a grim reminder of the fragility of life in this war-torn landscape.
As Farah and Amina approached a makeshift triage area, their faces bore a mix of determination and weariness. Their eyes, framed by smudged face masks, revealed the weight of the scenes they witnessed. Amina’s jaw was set, a stoic resolve in the face of adversity, while Farah’s brow furrowed with the heaviness of the situation. They quickly visually assess injuries.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Fires raged in the background, casting flickering shadows on the injured lying on makeshift stretchers. EMTs moved with urgency, their hands working swiftly to administer aid, but the overwhelming number of patients left them grappling with the harsh reality of limited resources. Blood, sweat, and grime painted the two brave women as they did their best to save lives.
In the midst of the chaos, the distant wails of ambulances struggled to pierce through the clamor. Farah and Amina pressed on, their commitment to saving lives unwavering despite the relentless challenges. The silent heroes in this suburban city had learned to endure the unthinkable.
Half a dozen Humvees were waiting, empty of occupants, idled with running motors. Tension was heavy in the air and in everyone’s movements. Hundreds of windows were everywhere. Empty of people. No gawkers or curious people looking out. There’s no way this many people will die from the sudden rise of make-believe werewolves. There are just too many windows. Burned-over ground runs straight to the yards, with blackened trees and bushes on either side.
Jason stepped on the legs of a feral corpse. He looked down and his lips tightened. He spoke over his shoulder, “You hungry?”
“I could eat,” she said.
The ease of transformation was like putting on a silk robe after a hot shower. Their body hair thickened. Bones unfolded. Skin rippled as their lupine form took shape. Diamond-sharp claws and teeth emerged. This was a terrifying vision. Lumbering, lupine death machines. They grew taller and hairier.
And hungrier.
The Autumn afternoon hung in the air with a deceptive calm chill as the military rounded the civilians on to the rescue vehicles. The apocalypse had paused for a breath. The civilians were safe for the moment. But they knew the nightmare was far from over. The army was powerless against the lupines and their unstoppable hunger. The buildings, once a sanctuary for families, now stood as silent witnesses to the fleet of military tricks, carrying desperate civilians seeking refuge, rumbled forward under the azure sky.
Farah and Amin as triage nurses had not left for hours, covered in blood and fluids. Flesh was clinging to their knees from kneeling on the ground next to victims. If World War 1 had a baby, they were in the middle of its chest. Dehydrated and mentally fogged from all the anatomical rescuing they could do, they had grown numb to the sight of destruction and death.
Amin continued to walk to another patient when two soldiers dropped beyond on the ground, before scurrying back to their humvee. The scent of death hung heavy, carried by the crisp Autumn breeze. Her eyes were weary and chained to unwavering dedication. The whites of her eyes carried a redness from the strain of long hours, healing the injured, comforting the dying, and closing eyelids of the dead. Her once vibrant irises resembled a battlefield map etched with sectors of fatigue and contour lines from countless decisions made in this crucible.
Her pupils, usually quick to react, moved with a delayed cadence. She saw movement from an alleyway. It flashed so quickly she assumed it was a reflection of her mental and physical fatigue accumulated over the hours of intense focus. The constant shift between life and death scenarios would leave an indelible mark, visible in the depths of her gaze. The glint of victory mingling with the shadow of the heart-wrenching defeat of losing another life.
There…
She paused before checking the new patient’s vitals. She stood still for a moment. Her gaze lingering at the lawn. Yet, despite the fatigue and emotional toll, a flame of resilience flickered in her tired gaze. They had seen too many bodies to count and had lost count of the number of lives they had lost. The screams of the wounded and the wails of the surviving families were a constant reminder of the supernatural brutality. They had seen too much, but they couldn’t give up.
There…
In a blink, they move impossibly fast. Jason and Supatra emerged.
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_d1b74e3b3789a6334b25e67c1f55b415.jpg](Image credit: [Jason and Supatra] "werewolf and a woman in magical forest digital art" ByHeisenberg1992 Generated with AI]
Their primal instincts flared as they stumbled upon the lifeless bodies of the ferals they once considered kin. Enraged, Jason and Supatra howled in unison, a mournful symphony that echoed through the abandoned streets. The military convoy, caught off guard, screeched to a halt. Soldiers scrambled, their rifles drawn, forming a defensive perimeter around the civilians. The werewolves, now fixated on the approaching military, were bathed in the cold light of day.
The confrontation began with a thunderous crack as the first shots were fired. Handguns and rifles echoed through the neighborhood, each shot reverberating like a drumbeat of impending doom. The werewolves, fueled by fury and betrayal, bounded toward the military, their massive forms covering ground with unnatural speed.