Jamie began to experience what many people did when they woke up: fear, anxiety, and the desperate need for coffee. There was also the lingering thought, "Was it all a dream?*—a question he asked himself every day of his life. He opened his eyes slowly, the blurry objects around him gradually taking shape. Among the greens of the forest, he saw the Moon—a pale, silver disc casting an eerie glow over the twisted branches that reached out like skeletal fingers. Shadows danced beneath the thick canopy and darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly.
The dark forest surrounded him, its silence broken only by the familiar distant rustling of leaves. This would startle most people, but to Jamie, he was right at home. He gave a mighty yawn and tried to move, but was greeted by an intense, stabbing back pain, and every bone in his body creaked and groaned. "Wow, so this is what getting older feels like," he muttered. "If I could, anyway." Jamie grabbed a stick and used it to prop himself up. He turned around and saw a massive, werewolf-sized crater behind him. Looking at it, he thought, *If I'd fallen just 20 more feet, it could have been the end of me.*
Jamie began to piece his thoughts together. *Where am I? Where's Uncle? Was that one girl single?* He needed a cigarette. *Stop asking these questions until you find one.*
*We're near the German-Italian border, right? Are you even listening to yourself? Grab a cigarette!*
"Fine," he said out loud. "I'll go find a cigarette." He began to pat around his pockets, searching and digging. Finally, he found a crumpled box of some Norwegian brand of cigarettes featuring a cartoon gargoyle and text in a language he couldn't read. "Finally," he muttered as he realized there was one left.
Jamie pulled out his lighter, only to realize it was smashed. Frustrated, he growled, "It's always my fucking luck."
Jamie thought to himself, *Find a river—it always leads to civilization. Maybe I should cut my hair, try to convince them I'm Italian. It wouldn't be the first time I did that.* Once he found civilization, he'd find a bar, and there would be his uncle.
Jamie glanced up at the Moon and considered, *Maybe I should transform; the walk would be quicker.* But he quickly dismissed the idea. *Let's not overdo it. It's easier to blend in when you're not a seven-foot-tall wolf. Besides you in a world of pain right now transforming would just make it worse.*
He took a deep breath and muttered, "Fine, we're walking," then began to use the stick as a cane.
Jamie began his walk with a methodical approach. He'd pick out a distant tree, lock his eyes on it, and once he reached it, he'd choose another. This way, he ensured he was always heading straight. The North Star guided him, its steady glow cutting through the gaps in the dense canopy above.
Occasionally, he stumbled upon debris from the ship. Pieces of twisted metal and singed fabric littered the forest floor, some still smoldering. At one point, he came across a pill bottle—the same type he'd used to drug himself earlier. Picking it up, he stared at it for a moment, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Really funny, God. Thanks for the meds," he muttered to himself, storing it in his pocket for future use.
Further along, Jamie spotted a soldier impaled on a jagged piece of shrapnel, his body hanging limply, as if a puppet with its strings cut. Jamie approached cautiously, scanning the area for any sign of life—or worse, Skinwalkers. He rifled through the soldier's belongings, but there was nothing of value except for a perfectly intact gas mask. He decided to keep it. In his experience, those could come in handy, even though it wouldn't serve much purpose when he was a werewolf.
As he continued, the landscape became more surreal. Larger pieces of wreckage jutted out from the ground like twisted monuments of destruction. One massive section of the ship towered above the trees, burning like an ominous beacon against the night sky. The fire cast long shadows that danced in the darkness, and Jamie couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
He found no other survivors—no signs of life, just the occasional blood trail that vanished into the undergrowth. *Either they didn't fall here, or the Skinwalkers are still around, taking the bodies,* Jamie thought grimly, gripping the gas mask a little tighter.
Eventually, he heard the faint sound of running water. He made his way toward it, stepping carefully over rocks and roots until he reached a narrow river. The water shimmered under the moonlight, a peaceful contrast to the chaos he had left behind. Kneeling down to drink, Jamie's eyes caught something half-buried in the mud: a knife. It was perfectly usable, its blade still sharp, but it was clear from the design that it was an older model. The date engraved on it suggested it was at least fifty years old.
He scanned the riverbank and noticed more relics—old weapons, some rusted and broken, others surprisingly well-preserved. It was like stumbling upon a forgotten battlefield. Jamie picked up a few of the more intact pieces, studying them closely. *Strange. Who the hell actually made these weapons?.* he wondered.
He had a creeping suspicion that the river had washed these relics down from somewhere else. Perhaps there was an old military outpost upstream, or maybe the skinwalkers have been doing this for years. Whatever the reason, Jamie knew it meant one thing: if an entire army can disappear here, then anyone can.
A faint ticking noise caught Jamie's attention, coming from a tall, gnarled tree that loomed over the forest. He moved closer, each step making the sound grow louder. As he neared, he spotted the source—a creature clinging to the tree trunk.
It looked like a large bat, about the size of a dog, with a slender, sinewy form stretched tight like leather over bone. Its elongated limbs clutched the bark, and its wings were folded close, twitching slightly. The creature's head twisted to face him, revealing a row of needle-like teeth. It hissed, a low, rattling sound, its eyes narrowing in a hostile glare.
Without hesitation, Jamie reached up and grabbed the creature with one hand. It squirmed and snapped, but he held it firm. "I know what you are," he said, voice cold and steady. "Like the black bears of this forest—you act big and tough. But you're just a coward. You won't do a damn thing." His grip tightened as he mocked the creature, daring it to prove him wrong.
Jamie tossed the creature aside and casually said, "I'm just fucking with you." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of a candy bar, and threw it to the creature.
"It's actually a good thing you're here," Jamie continued. "It means there aren't any bigger creatures around. So, if it's all the same to you, you can stalk me all you want. Because the moment there's a real threat, you'll run off, and that'll let me know something real dangerous is out there." He finished with an almost menacing smile, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and calculation.
The creature sniffed the candy, its eyes widening before it tasted it. Once it had a bite, it hastily devoured the treat, gnawing at it with a fervor that belied its earlier hostility. Jamie would have found the creature cute if it didn't look like something pulled straight out of a nightmare—a twisted, bat-like thing with grotesquely large eyes and oversized fangs.
Continuing along the riverbank, Jamie muttered, "At least now I have some company." His voice echoed slightly against the trees, the sound swallowed by the dark canopy above. From the corner of his eye, he caught the creature trailing him, its glowing eyes peering out from the shadows high in the tree trunks, following his every move. It leapt from branch to branch, moving silently except for the occasional rustle of leaves.
The forest seemed quieter now, the oppressive stillness broken only by the trickling of the river and the faint, soft patter of the creature's movements. Jamie took comfort in it, knowing that its presence meant no larger predators were nearby—for now. But he kept his senses sharp, aware that at any moment, those eyes in the dark could vanish, signaling something far worse closing in.
Jamie took stock of his rations, which weren't much—just the other half of a candy bar, one cigarette, and a stick. He glanced at his new companion, who eyed him from his side, and said, "There's a beautiful simplicity to you. You don't have any complex emotions. What you want is simple and earnest—to eat my ass once I die." He chuckled. "As dumb and unimaginative of an existence as that is, I can't imagine why the great spirit would allow you to exist. But I respect it. You're predictable. I don't fear you. Even if you were some sort of apex predator, I could understand you."
Jamie paused, taking in the scene around him. The river flowed steadily beside him, its waters catching the glint of moonlight, creating a shimmering path that seemed to lead into the depths of the forest. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the cool scent of earth and damp foliage. The air felt alive, whispering softly as it moved past him, almost like a quiet song sung by the forest itself.
After a moment, he continued, "It's people that scare me more than anything. You're an animal, but they can be monsters."
Jamie continued down the river, the sound of the flowing water and the distant rustle of leaves . The forest began to thin as he made his way into the Swiss Alps, the rugged terrain growing steeper with each step. Soon, he found himself near a small village that clung to the mountainside, near the border with Italy. The air was cold and crisp, carrying the scent of pine and the faint smell of something metallic.
He noticed something unusual ahead: a destroyed vehicle, its twisted metal frame half-buried in the undergrowth. As he approached, he recognized the faded insignia of the U.S. military on its side. The shattered windshield was covered in grime, but inside he could make out the skeletal remains of the driver still strapped to his seat. The tattered remnants of a U.S. uniform clung to the bones, swaying slightly in the wind. Jamie felt a chill run down his spine as he stood there, staring at the empty eye sockets.
He moved forward cautiously, spotting more remains scattered along the rugged mountain path. There were bodies—some still in faded U.S. fatigues, others in German uniforms—lying where they had fallen long ago. Jamie felt a grim realization settle in. He was standing in the aftermath of a forgotten battlefield, where men had fought and died in the freezing cold of these mountains.
His gaze caught a sign, weathered and barely readable, sticking out from the ground: "Splügenpass." Jamie's eyes narrowed as he remembered the name. He turned and looked over a nearby cliff, his eyes widening as he saw a massive fortification, long destroyed, nestled in the valley below. In the center was a crumbling fort or castle, its stone walls cracked and partially collapsed.
*I remember this battle,* Jamie thought. *I read about it in a history book. This was the last major battle before the battle line stagnated in Europe. One of the last pushes by the U.S. into the German Federation.*
The sight was haunting, the sheer scale of the destruction evident even from this distance. Abandoned trenches snaked through the landscape, rusted barbed wire still clinging to posts like skeletons of their own. He could almost hear the echoes of artillery and gunfire that had long since faded, the cries of men lost to time.
Suddenly, a scent hit him—faint, but unmistakable. His uncle. Jamie's senses sharpened, his heart pounding in his chest. He scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint the source. The scent was mixed with the old smells of death and decay, but it was there, lingering in the air like a fresh memory.
*He's close,* Jamie realized, tightening his grip on his stick. Without another thought, he started moving, following the scent deeper into the remnants of the battlefield.
Another thought crossed Jamie's mind: *"Splügenpass"—what a dumb name for a place where 100,000 people died on both sides.* He scoffed at the irony, his eyes scanning the war-torn landscape. As he looked around, something caught his attention—a massive crater, its ragged edges carving deep into the earth. In the center of it, half-buried in dirt and debris, was a tactical nuclear bomb. Its casing was rusted but unmistakable, a silent reminder of how close the world had come to annihilation.
Jamie turned to his small stalker. "You know, the war got so bad it almost went nuclear," he said, a grim smile forming on his lips. "Would've saved me the trouble of being born."
He eyed the tactical nuke but knew it posed no immediate threat to him. "If I weren't a werewolf, the radiation might be harmful," he added, "but I suppose being a monster has its advantages."
He glanced back at his bat-like companion, now gnawing on the skull of a German soldier whose helmet was still intact. The soldier's uniform seemed strangely familiar—like a relic from World War I, but with clear signs of modern technological upgrades. Jamie mused over the sight. *Come to think of it, technology hasn't really advanced much in the last 50 years.*
The creature darted ahead, sniffing around. Jamie watched it for a moment, then suddenly grabbed it by the scruff. "Stop, you little shit," he growled. The creature hissed and snarled, squirming in his grip. With a flick of his wrist, Jamie picked up a rock and chucked it at a half-buried landmine nearby.
The rock hit the mine, triggering a sudden explosion that sent dirt and debris flying. The creature's eyes widened in terror, and it quickly scrambled up Jamie's back, clinging on tightly, too afraid to touch the ground again.
Jamie let out an annoyed sigh. "Great, just what I needed," he muttered. The creature's weight was negligible, but its presence was a constant irritation. He adjusted his stance, feeling the creature's claws dig into his shoulders, and continued his trek, still following the scent trail that would hopefully lead him to his uncle.
Jamie, growing increasingly annoyed, said, "You know you can fly, right?" The creature simply responded by gripping his head even tighter. Jamie continued his walk, figuring that if he could bring the creature into a building, he might be able to coax it off of him.
In the distance, he could see a small town, and not far from it was a very imposing castle that loomed over the land. One of the largest structures built in the medieval world, it cast its long, eerie shadow over Jamie and the small town. Jamie began to notice differences in the skeletons he was seeing; they wore more civilian attire, with armbands bearing the Italian flag.
As he made his way to a church, he saw a massive skeleton in a humanoid form crashed into one of the destroyed buildings, like a man sitting on a throne, only its hands and legs were intact. Even Jamie wasn't sure what the hell this creature was.
At the entrance of the church was a skeleton twice the size of a man, missing its torso. The creature had very long arms with claws at the end and three heads. Surrounding it were the remains of a hundred fallen men and women, and behind the skeleton were a thousand bullet holes. Jamie glanced at the scene and said, "Yeah, this is normally how these fights go. If people didn't breed like rabbits, the monsters would have won by now."
Jamie went to the large, imposing doors, which were ironically in far better condition than most of the skeletons. The doors featured a simple carving of roses and tulips, with a sign that read in Italian, "Visitors Are Always Welcome." Jamie thought to himself, *There's always a church.*
Grabbing the door handle, he felt resistance as he tugged on it. It wasn't locked, but there was weight on the other side. Jamie wasn't in any mood to disarm traps—if he got hit, he got hit. The bat on Jamie's back gave him a look as if to say, *Are you sure you want to open that?* He replied to the bat, "Worst case scenario, we die."
He pushed open the door, and slowly, methodically, a pile of skeletons fell out. All were civilians, some still wearing gas masks, their last moments frozen in time as they desperately sought air. Jamie noticed hundreds of tiny scratch marks on the inside of the door. He sighed, "Yep, that's how german normally fight this war."
Jamie grimly thought to himself, *Why waste bullets when you can just gas them?* He did his best not to step on the wall of skeletal remains, practically having to climb through them. After a few moments, he finally made his way out of the mountain of bones and into the center of the church.
After climbing over the mountain of skeletons, Jamie finally stepped into the center of the church. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and dust, the echoes of past prayers lingering in the silence. He took in the scene around him—the shattered stained glass, the debris-strewn floor, and the rows of pews lined with the dead.
One of the large windows on the side of the church had been smashed open, the remnants of stained glass clinging to the frame like jagged teeth. Beneath the window, several rusted canisters of gas lay discarded, the instruments of death that had turned this place of worship into a tomb. The skeletons in the pews still sat in their final moments, hands clasped together, heads bowed in silent prayer, as if hoping for salvation even as the poison filled their lungs.
The bat creature, which had clung to Jamie's back, leaped off and began to explore the desolate church like a curious cat. It sniffed around the broken pews, its glowing eyes darting from one corner to the next. Jamie watched it for a moment, then called out, "Don't get lost now. If anything happens to you, I'm not saving you." The creature paused, giving him a brief glance before continuing its exploration, oblivious to the danger that had once claimed this place.
Jamie's gaze shifted downward, and something caught his eye amidst the debris—a rifle Sturmgewehr, half-buried in dust and bones. He knelt and picked it up, recognizing the familiar weight and design immediately. "I knew how to put you together and take you apart before I could even sing my ABCs," he murmured, turning the weapon over in his hands. It was an older model, but one he knew intimately. "You're the 47th model," he said, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "I bet there's enough clean parts of you left around here where I can make a new gun out of you."
With the rifle in hand, Jamie began to survey the surrounding area, searching for more usable parts.
Jamie moved quietly through the church, his eyes scanning the ground for any usable parts. Among the scattered remains, he found a few clean pieces—a bolt here, a trigger assembly there. He gathered them one by one, wiping away the grime and checking for damage. Each piece fit together in his mind, forming the weapon he knew so well. The dust-covered floor hid a few treasures—springs, screws, and a nearly intact barrel. He tucked the pieces into his pockets, his hands moving with practiced ease.
As Jamie picked up the last component, a faint noise reached his ears—something creaking above him, the sound barely audible over the silence of the church. He paused, listening closely. The noise came again, more pronounced this time, like the soft thud of footsteps. His gaze shifted to the staircase leading to the second floor. Without hesitation, Jamie stood and began to walk toward the steps.
Jamie ascended the steps with careful, measured movements, the old wood creaking softly underfoot. He kept his breath steady, the dim light filtering through the shattered windows casting long shadows along the walls. As he reached the landing, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, revealing a somber sight—a group of skeletons slumped over ancient radio equipment, their bony fingers still resting on the controls. The machines, rusted and silent now, seemed to echo with the desperate pleas they once transmitted. A row of rifles leaned against the wall, their barrels pointed toward the ground. Dust-covered sniper rifles lay beside them, the optics long clouded and useless.
His attention shifted upward as he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the roof—slow, deliberate, and far too heavy to be caused by the wind. As Jamie reached the shattered window, he caught sight of a Skinwalker below, muttering to himself in a gravelly voice, "Where are those kids? They're always hiding from me." The creature's glowing yellow eyes darted nervously as it rummaged through a wrecked car, its claws scraping against the rusted metal. The desperation in its tone was palpable, its movements frantic as if it was on the verge of a breakdown.
Suddenly, a massive shadow darkened the area, and a powerful gust of wind whipped through the church, sending loose debris and dust swirling in all directions. The force was so intense that it knocked over abandoned cars and sent skeletons clattering to the ground. Jamie instinctively shielded his eyes from the blast as the wind howled through the broken windows. A deafening thud followed, the ground shaking as a colossal bat-like creature descended with terrifying speed.
The Skinwalker barely had time to react before the massive bat crashed into the ground, its impact reverberating through the church walls. The creature let out a terrified shriek, its voice cracking with fear as it realized its fate. It kicked and thrashed, trying desperately to escape, but the bat's talons were unyielding, pinning it to the ground. The Skinwalker's panicked screams echoed through the night as the bat tightened its grip, lifting the struggling creature into the air.
The force of the bat's wings as it ascended created another powerful gust, this one even stronger, toppling more debris and sending dust clouds billowing into the sky. Jamie could only watch as the giant bat carried the Skinwalker higher, its glowing eyes wide with terror as it was dragged into the darkness, its screams fading into the distance.
The smaller bat creature that had been perched on Jamie's shoulder clung to him tightly, its tiny claws digging into his coat. It watched the scene with wide, fascinated eyes, its head tilted as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. Jamie glanced at the creature, then back to the sky where the massive bat had disappeared. "And that must be Mama," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the lingering wind. He turned back to the dimly lit room, the eerie silence slowly returning as the dust settled once more.