The Werewolf of Marines Trilogy Page 8

  “What, who are you?” Aiden asked, obviously trying to enunciate each word.

  Hozan had to smile at that. Speech was not as natural to them when in varg form, and it took some effort to learn to form the words with balky tongues and elongated mouths.

  “I am called Hozan. I am one like you. Please, don’t fight me. I am here to help you.”

  That seemed to break through to the Marine.

  “Please, help me,” the young man whimpered, all fight in him gone.

  “If I let you up, will you keep calm?” Hozan asked.

  “Yes, yes, just help me.”

  Hozan slowly got off Aiden and helped him up.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, noticing Aiden’s left arm hanging limply.

  “I’m dizzy, and my arm feels weak,” he said, raising the arm and making and releasing a fist. “I got shot in the stomach, too, but I’m not dead. But what the fuck’s happening to me? And who the fuck are you? I mean, I can see what you are. You were a naked man one minute, now you’re a no-shit werewolf.”

  Hozan could see the confusion in Aiden’s face. Actually, he thought the young Marine was handling the whole thing very well, all things considered. Hozan had always known what he was. It was natural to him. Aiden Kaas, on the other hand, had been suddenly thrust into an entire new reality. Some of the turned could not accept that reality. They could not adapt, and if that happened, they had to be put down. Nothing could be allowed to threaten the Tribe.

  “Yes, I am what you humans would call a werewolf,” Hozan told him, forgetting for a moment that Aiden was not technically a human anymore. “And now, so are you. You are dizzy because you have expended a lot of energy, both because of shifting, and now because your body is trying to heal itself. Your arm will be healed soon, and you’ll feel better once you eat.

  “What you need to do is shift back to your human form now and get back to your base. I will find you there and explain better what you are.”

  Aiden looked down at one hair-covered arm, then the other. “And just how do I do that? I don’t know how I changed to this in the first place.”

  “Extreme stress can trigger a shift, especially the first shift. We don’t need stress, though, to shift. With repetition, it becomes second nature. What you need to do is relax, most of all. Then picture yourself in your mind, but as a human. Can you do that?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I can try.”

  Aiden closed his eyes, but after a few moments opened them again. “It’s not working! I can’t do it.”

  Hozan knew what part of the problem was. First shifts were notoriously painful.

  “When you shifted back there, what did you feel?”

  “It hurt like shit!”

  “That was because it was the first time. Bones, tendons, muscle, all had to change for the first time. Your body was not pliable yet. It gets better, please believe me.”

  “So if I do like you say, if I change back, it won’t hurt?”

  “No, it will hurt, but less. And the more you do it, the less and less it will hurt.”

  “The ‘more I do it?’ I can’t believe I am here talking to you about this like it’s normal. People don’t change into Hollywood werewolves. Where are the vampires?”

  “Vampires? Why do you ask that? There’s no such thing as vampires,” Hozan replied, puzzled at Aiden’s statement.

  “I just thought . . . I mean . . . ah, fuck, I don’t know what I mean. Can you just get me back to normal?”

  “What you are now is normal. This is who we are. But I can help you get back to your human form. You have to want it, though. You cannot shift unless you want to. You can’t let anything hold you back.”

  Hozan tried to talk Aiden through the process for the next hour or so until dawn started to break. They moved to a more secluded spot, then tried again. Aiden had a mental block, probably because of the memory of the agony he experienced in his first shift got in the way, because he still couldn’t believe his situation, or because his lack of energy made concentrating difficult.

  Time dragged on, and twice Hozan left Aiden resting while he went foraging for food. The first time he came back with a small jerboa that Aiden quickly wolfed down. When Aiden still had not shifted back two hours later, he brought back a domestic goat. They shared this, swallowing hunks of raw meat.

  Aiden told him he didn’t feel dizzy anymore, that he felt refreshed, but still, he could not make the shift. Hozan shifted back and forth several times to see if that could shake something loose. Aiden was fascinated with the process of shifting, when the body rearranged itself into a new form, but he could not do it himself.

  Aiden had not made any real progress throughout the day, and now, as night fell, Hozan decided Aiden needed a break. They were quite a ways from the base, so the two of them made the long trek back to be ready when Aiden was finally able to shift. Aiden started asking him more and more questions about his condition, about what it all meant, but Hozan refused to give any details. He wanted Aiden back in human form, first. The Council could still order his death or the humans could capture him. If the latter happened, the less he knew the better. Just before dawn, they stopped about two miles from the base under a small group of acacia trees. Hozan asked Aiden to lie down in the sand, face up. Hozan could sense the frustration in the young man, but he hoped the long walk had worked to clear his mind.

  “Now, think of something pleasant, something you’ve done before. I want you to imagine how you felt, what you were thinking. OK?”

  Aiden nodded and closed his eyes. Hozan wondered what he was thinking, but he didn’t ask, not wanting to break the boy’s train of thought.

  If Aiden could not shift back, and Hozan reported that to the Council, he was sure he would be given the command to kill the new werewolf. The security of the Tribe came first, and someone who could not shift back was too much of a liability.

  Hozan had lost his own family. His dead Roshna and this American Marine were nothing alike, but some paternal instinct still fluttered deep within his heart. Without realizing it, he started singing a Kurdish lullaby, the one Namrin used to sing to their little Roshna when she was a baby:

  My Cherub, the brightness of the iris of my eyes

  The bond between my heart and soul, the giver of strength to my breath

  Fresh scent of herbs, my crimson flower

  The extinguisher of the burning coil in my heart

  The bird of my being, veins of my life

  My honey and sugar, candy and sweets

  Sleep. It's late, dream sweet dreams

  While the rooster is still quiet.

  La lay la lay, my child. Sleep.

  Tonight sleep will not come to me.

  Don't weep, my sweet child

  I know you're crying because of your cradle

  Whether it was the long walk, whether it was that Aiden finally understood what he had to do, or whether the lullaby had some effect, Hozan didn’t know. But Aiden started to shift, his face flattening out, his chest getting smaller, his waist bigger. The hair on his body fell out, leaving only that on top of his head intact. Within moments, he was human again, sitting up and gasping for air.

  Hozan felt relief flood his body. He might still be called upon to take action against Aiden to protect the Tribe, but he wouldn’t have to do that this specific early morning. Hozan shifted back, too.

  He told Aiden to walk up to the main gate to the base, but not to tell them anything. He would have to make up a story to explain his absence, but he could not, repeat, could not tell anyone what had really happened.

  “I will meet with you this evening, to explain everything I can to you. Where can we meet that is private?” he asked Aiden.

  “Private? That’s tough. Maybe the gear locker? We play cards there sometimes, but at night, it might be OK.”

  Hozan agreed, and after getting instructions on how to find the locker, he gave Aiden one last warning to keep his new-found abilities secret before melting off in
to the fading darkness to find the clothes he had stashed the early morning before. He would meet Aiden that evening, and he hoped it would be to teach the young man how to be a member of the Tribe, not as the sword of execution for the Council.

  Chapter 18

  Aiden walked slowly up to the main gate. He knew he must look terrible: shoeless, disheveled, and filthy. The Iraqi police watched him walk up, then as they took him in his appearance, got up and faced him. Behind them, the Marines on gate duty noticed him. One got on the phone while another, a big African-American Marine came out to join the Iraqi police.

  “And just who the hell are you?” the Marine asked, normal protocol thrown out the window.

  “Private First Class Aiden Kaas,” he simply responded, continuing forward.

  “No shit? You’re Kaas? Stop right there,” he said anyway, motioning to the Iraqi police who half-raised their weapons. “We’ve got it here,” he told the Iraqis. “Dykstra, call it in,” he continued, shouting over his shoulder to another Marine.

  Aiden stopped. He just wanted to get inside the gate, back on base. The DFAC and the showers were calling his name, and he wasn’t quite sure which was calling the loudest.

  “Sorry about this, but I’ve got to check you. Raise your hands over your head,” the Marine instructed.

  Aiden complied, and the guard gave up his weapon to the other Marine and moved forward to pat Aiden down.

  “OK, you’re clean,” he said. “Dude, I don’t know where you’ve been, but the whole camp’s been in an uproar over all of this.”

  He recovered his weapon and escorted Aiden just inside the gate where they waited for less than a minute before a Humvee came barreling up. An officer whom Aiden didn’t recognize jumped out and rushed over. A sergeant jumped out of the other side and bird-dogged the officer.

  “PFC Kaas?” he asked. When Aiden nodded, he continued, “I’m Capt Jankovich, from the S2.[33] You need to come with me.”

  They bundled him into the Humvee, then took off for the short drive to the regimental headquarters. He was hustled into a room with large table constructed with plywood and two-by-fours.

  “You need anything to eat?” the captain asked as Aiden sat.

  “Uh, yes, sir. I’m pretty hungry.”

  “Sgt Stevens, go to the DFAC and put something together.”

  Aiden sat there with the captain, neither one of them speaking a word.

  Finally, Aiden asked, “Am I in trouble, sir?”

  “Should you be?” the captain responded. “We don’t know what happened, so you need to tell us. But let’s wait for the rest. Just relax for now.”

  The door opened and a lieutenant came in. Aiden recognized him as the battalion S2. As the intel officer, he had given them parts of some operations briefs. Aiden wasn’t sure of his name, though.

  The next person in was a familiar face: he was the doctor from the hospital, LT Gutierrez.

  “So, PFC Kaas. I seem to be spending more time with you than I’d like.”

  Aiden wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, so he shut up while the doctor gave him a cursory examination. Except for his growing hunger, he felt fine, so he was not surprised when the doctor gave him a clean bill of health.

  “Nothing wrong with him that I can see. His feet are fine, too, which is surprising as his boots are gone,” he told the captain before leaving the room.

  Other men came in the room, but more tried to enter. A staff sergeant kept most of the others out. A master sergeant and a civilian were let in the room and took seats. Maj Corbin was let in, too, which was a relief to Aiden, but no one from the company. Finally, a lieutenant colonel and another major were let in. The colonel’s name was Hector and the major’s was Templeton, which Aiden got from their nametags, but neither one was introduced to him. Aiden didn’t know if they were from regiment like Capt Jankovich or if they were higher up on the food chain.

  “OK, PFC Kaas, we’re glad you’re back safe and sound, but we really need to know what happened. Why don’t you start at the beginning, and tell us everything you remember,” the regimental intel officer ordered.

  Just then, Sgt Stevens came back with a sandwich, an apple, and some bug juice in a plastic bottle. The lieutenant colonel flipped one hand over and pointed, indicating the food, but not saying a word. Aiden understood, though, and dug in. He felt self-conscious, eating while nine sets of eyes, high-ranking eyes, watched him shovel in the chow. He swallowed the sandwich, put the apple in his cargo pocket, then drained the bug juice in several large gulps.

  “OK, let’s start again,” the captain told him.

  “Well, sir, we got the order in the afternoon. Our fire team had point, and I wanted to be point man, so . . .”

  “Let’s skip to contact. What happened then, and where’ve you been for the last two days?” Captain Jankovich asked.

  “Oh, OK sir. Sorry, sir, I’m not used to this.”

  He went on with the story. He knew from watching crime shows on TV that he should keep to the truth as much as possible to make it believable, but in this case, that simply was not an option. He was accurate up to and including the booby trap, but after that, pretty much nothing was true. The account he gave was that as he lay stunned on the ground, several hajjis ran up to him, but another explosion ripped into them, knocking him unconscious. When he came to, he was being carried away, but he was too loopy to do anything about it. He passed out again.

  He wasn’t sure how long it was, but it was still dark when he came to again. He realized that he was in a small hut. At first, he thought he was a prisoner, but as he turned over, he realized he was not restrained. A women in full hijab had come up and offered him water, which he took.

  He had no weapon, no shoes, no battle gear except for his flak jacket. It was dark, and he didn’t know where he was. He didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, so he decided to wait where he was for the moment.

  As dawn rose, two men came in. One spoke English and told him that the other man had been near the fight and had been watching. When the mujahideen standing over Aiden had been killed by the explosion, the man had rushed out of hiding, picked Aiden up, and gotten him out of there. Aiden was in his house, but they couldn’t risk Aiden leaving during the daylight. Aiden was asked to remain inside the house, out-of-sight.

  Aiden related sitting there with them, talking about the situation in Iraq. When he said that his rescuer hated Al Qaeda in Iraq, every Marine in the room nodded. Hozan had told him to add that little fact, and Aiden saw that had been a good idea. The Marines thought AQII was making enemies with their high-handed and severe treatment of the Iraqis, and this just buttressed that opinion, thereby making the rest Aiden’s story more believable.

  Aiden told them they had waited until quite late in the night before his rescuer put a dishdasha on him and brought him close to the camp. Aiden remembered what the doctor had said about his feet, so he changed what he had been going to say, from that he had walked to the camp to that he had ridden a donkey. They arrived just before dawn, about 500 meters or so from the gate. He gave back the dishdasha, not wanting anyone on camp to think he was a local, then walked the rest of the way in.

  The captain asked him quite a number of questions. Aiden didn’t know if he just needed more information or if he was trying to trip him up. He tried to keep his story straight in his head.

  Most of the questions centered around the family that took him in and where their home was. Aiden denied knowing the location, and he refused to name the family.

  “I’m sorry, sir. But I promised them I wouldn’t give out their names. They would get killed if anyone knew they’d helped me.”

  “I’m not sure you understand me, there, PFC. I’m not giving you an option. I’m ordering you to tell me.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t obey that order,” Aiden said, fear filling him. No one just disobeyed direct orders from officers.

  The captain stood up and leaned over the table.

 
“You are going to obey. Are you insinuating that someone here is going to pass that information on to the hajjis?” he said, anger evident in his voice.

  “Sir, you can write me up, but I made a promise.”

  “That’s about all I’m going to—” he got out before Maj Corbin interrupted him.

  “That’s enough, captain. PFC Kaas made a promise to the people who saved his life. A Marine is as good as his word, and I’m damn glad that someone raised this Marine right. I’m proud to call him a brother Marine, a man of integrity. I told you before that PFC Kaas is one of our best warriors, and I sat quiet while you grilled him like he was a criminal. He explained what happened, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s about it. So I think I’m taking him back to his company now so he can get back to his squad where he belongs.” He looked over to the other major and asked, “Terry, that sound about right?”

  The other major shrugged and looked to the lieutenant colonel who stared at Aiden, then at Maj Corbin for a few moments before nodding his head.

  Aiden felt a rush of relief flow through him. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath. He felt a twinge of guilt, though, for misleading the major. Major Corbin had been defending his honor, his integrity, yet almost everything he’d told them had been a lie.

  “And sir, given the circumstances, I think the investigations on Lt Tallifer, SSgt Boyd, and Sgt Rickman can be nipped in the bud? It’s not as if they could have found PFC Kaas given that Kaas had been carried off to save his life? Our CO[34] wants the investigation dropped, and he’s willing to go directly to the CG[35] to make his case if need be.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you. Let me talk to the chief and let you know,” LtCol Hector said, speaking for the first time. “We sometimes tend to eat our young, and with what PFC Kaas has said happened, I’m not sure Lt Tallifer could have done anything more.”