“Connaught – the predator home world – was known throughout the galaxy as a perfect utopia. Here the endless war between the Aliens with their duck comrades and the Predators with their pigeon brothers was a distant thing.”
The gardener looked at me with complete contempt.
“Weak sauce, lad. Weak sauce.”
I couldn’t handle this kind of criticism after the day I had had, especially after the drop I just had. My head had finally (after the three or four days between these fucking posts) returned to it’s standard haze of crazy.
“Now listen to me you wheezingbagofdicktits-”
“Breathe lad,” he cut in. “I’m not insulting you, more your chronicler. You’ve been making quite a lot of sense through the last few posts but that was just grabbing.”
I chuckled, glad to be in the presence of friends for once, “you wait for the end of the next one. I got a real fucking curveball for that prick!”
He sighed and sat down on the bench near the bushes he had been clipping; gesturing for me to join. For what was meant to be ground zero in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse, it weren’t half bad. I sat on the the edge of the bench, ready for any attacks that may come my way whilst the guy took a pipe from one of his pockets followed by a matchbook.
“What’s your name, friend?” He enquirer with a puff of smoke.
“Unimportant, yours?” He looked at me sideways and grinned.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Unimportant. My name’s Gable.”
I winced, knowing exactly where this was going. I wasn’t feeling a lecture at this point but the character in front of me was indeed there for that exact purpose. The name was the giveaway.
“Well, Gable, this is a lovely garden you got here but I need to be hitting the road. You may not have noticed but beyond your shrubberies there’s an army of undead. I too am undead. The man that punched me, causing me to fly out that gaping hole up there in the tower, is undead. The woman who made the formula is…”
“A vampire,” he scoffed through his thick moustache. “Filthy bastard vampire. Can’t stand them, myself but that’s another story. You lad, are in a world of trouble.”
I looked at him curiously, not knowing whether I had missed something or he had. The glint in his eye betrayed him, I knew he wanted me to ask.
“You’re a lycan!” I bellowed and hopped around with glee. Lycans are fucking sweet! Not like those shitty werewolves that can only turn when there’s a full moon.
“Sit down will ye,” he obviously wasn’t sharing my zeal for the realisation, “I have stuff I need to say before you go marching back up those flights to fight. Look up at those stars kid.” He gestured up at the sky, I had completely lost track of time. It felt like mere minutes ago that I had woken up in that room up in the tower and this crazy nightmare had begun. “There was once a time,” he continued, “when I’d look up there before I was bitten to find Canis Major guiding me home. It feels ironic that I then became a lycan on a voyage home, under the Dogstar’s gaze.”
“Well that’s technically not irony, Gable. Ironic would be using the Dogstar to guide you home and then the lycanthropy leading you away from…” I trailed off, looking at the grey old man sat next to me. So many scars, so much tension in every muscle that he looked ready to pounce even though he was supposedly relaxing.
“Another annoying part of this whole affair, I can’t seem to find the star for the life of me. I look and look but I can never find it; maybe I’ll never go home? But that’s not what I wanted to tell you, boy. This world isn’t ready for vampires and lycans and zombies. The lady upstairs, and I don’t mean God but the vampire you jest met, she’d like nothing more for you to get out there and praise the work she’s done.”
“She’s asked me to go up there and kill him! The abomination, that is. She’s offering me a cure in return.”
He chuckled softly to himself. “Listen lad, this may come across as an old wolf being prejudice against the opposition but never trust a vampire’s pact. The reason they’ve been around so long – like me and her and even those stars – is that we only look out for number one. You’re just a means to an end. She’ll likely give you this so-called cure and you’ll end up being the poster child for the living dead franchise for years to come. You’re just like me, star-crossed. Only you have a chance to fix things. Me? My star is fading away.”
He stood and walked away then, not looking back. Complete fucking badass. I had a tear in my eye, but I saw him fade into nothing before he even got to the gate. His essence blown away on the winds. A voice whispered in the back of my head, close to the old man’s:
The star died; despite everything I did, everything I tried to do, that’s how this story is going to end, unless you listen to me this time.