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Last Girls, Chapter Twelve


  02:43:00 am, by Nic Wilson   , 420 words  
Categories: Last Girls

Last Girls, Chapter Twelve

Angel moaned. ?You okay?? Alan asked him, holding up his friend's remaining hand to gauge his pulse. Angel pulled the limb violently away, then lunged at Alan, nearly catching his fingers between his teeth. ?What the hell?? Alan asked, stumbling backward, landing in the dirt.
Angel's chest swelled and shifted beneath his tailored shirt, his bones warping and his muscles pulsing, reforming in new shapes. The changes overwhelmed the shirt, sending buttons flying violently off. He screamed, and sharp spines bloomed out of his waxed chest, traveling in a wave up his neck and covering his face, and moving down his torso. His scream became a howl as his nose and mouth together extruded from his face, and his teeth grew from tiny Chiclets into curved daggers.
Angel's jaws snapped at Alan, this time catching his shirt and trapping his arm. Denny put his flip-flop onto Angel's chest, and leveraged his foot enough to tear Alan loose, and away from the claws that grew out of Angel's fingertips. Both men fell backwards together, Alan rolling further away. Denny dropped the revolver he was holding, and it went sliding past the light of the fire.
When he looked up, he saw that Angel was now a wolf like the one that attacked him, but with lighter brown hair mixed in with the gray.
Betsy squared her feet, and tried to steady the cowboy's other gun in her hands. ?Maybe since they aren't silver...? Betsy said, her arms trembling wildly.
?Silver,? Lark said, and snapped her fingers. ?Don't shoot, I may have something.?
Denny crawled backwards at Angel's approach, but he was moving languidly, his fear slowly paralyzing his muscles.
Then the wolf stopped, and howled, but not a long call; it yelped in pain. Then again. This time the can that hit him had momentum to carry it to Denny's feet. He looked to Lark, who was standing with the cooler open at her feet. She retrieved another 'silver bullet,' and winged it at the wolf's head. This one knocked it off balance, and it stumbled groggily forward.
She picked up one more, reared back to throw, but the wolf swayed, nearly losing its balance, and she checked her arm. When he straightened his back she let loose. It struck him just above the eye, and the force of it sent him twisting in a spiral through the air, landing with his elongated face in Denny's lap.
The wolf's tongue lolled out of its mouth, coming to rest on Denny's thigh.

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Nicolas Wilson is a writer and journalist. An archive featuring hundreds of short stories, comics and essays can be found here.


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