Huck heard Orson's pants unzip. The man stood swaying for several seconds before the flow finally began. Orson released a long, low sound somewhere between a groan and a wail.
"Shut up." The guard growled at him. Huck dragged himself up to a sitting position. The sound of urine hitting the bucket stopped, then Orson gave one final moan before collapsing in a heap next to the pail.
"Orson!" Huck rose shakily to his feet and made his way to his friend. He took a moment to appraise him. Orson's face was ashen, and he was trembling. Huck turned to the guard. "He needs a doctor."
The guard scoffed. "Fat chance."
Huck growled. "Bring him some damn water then. He's lost a lot of blood."
"I'm not bringing him a damn thing. You think this is a hotel or something? I was told to guard you two whelps, not provide room service."
"And I'm sure your alpha's going to be really happy when he comes back and finds one of us dead. We haven't told him anything yet, and we're not going to be able to if we're dead. I don't know what that bastard has planned for us, but I bet he wants us alive for it. If this man doesn't get some liquids soon, he's done for. I mean how long have we been out? Hours? Days? We could both be on death's door.” He was laying it on a bit thick, but then he honestly didn’t know if they’d gone days without water. They were werewolves and stronger than humans, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t die from dehydration and starvation, same as humans.
The guard hesitated for a second, then rose. "No bullshit,” he warned, pointing a finger at Huck. “Back up."
Huck raised his hands and moved back to the other side of the cell. The guard opened a cupboard and grabbed a mason jar full of rusty bolts. He tipped the jar, dumping the bolts onto the concrete floor with a clatter. Then he went to a corroded sink and turned on the tap. When the glass was half-full, he walked closer to the prisoners. Huck saw the man staring him down as he approached the cell. He stopped just out of arm's length of the bars. "I mean it. No bullshit. If you try anything, I'll kill you myself and take my chances with the alpha."
"I'm cool." Huck shrugged.
The guard took another step forward and put a key into the cell's lock. Just as it clicked, Huck heard Orson make a strangled noise. He looked to see his friend leap to his feet, a rusty bucket in his hand. By the look on Orson's face, the movement had cost him every last ounce of energy.
"Hey!" The guard was halfway through screaming when a half-gallon of blood and piss splashed across his face. "You son of a bitch!" he sputtered, flinging the door open. With a snarl, he leapt upon Orson, turning his back on Huck.
Huck took his chance, praying to the Great Luna that his cracked ribs wouldn’t get worse, lunging and phasing as he did so. As the guard's first blow rained down upon Orson, a two-hundred-pound wolf landed on his back. Huck felt a surge of energy from the beast coursing through his body, even as he felt another snap. There went another rib. The wolf had been longing to get his teeth on one of their attackers, and now it had the chance. He clamped down on the back of the guard's throat. Though it took almost all his strength, he shook his head and tore open the man's neck. It was far from a clean kill, but it worked. He felt the guard go limp beneath him, both of them collapsing on Orson. Huck phased back and rolled the guard off his friend.
Orson was covered in the man's blood. Again, he was barely conscious, but he managed a weak grin. "Piss bucket to the face. Works every time."
"Don't forget it was my plan."
"Even a blind hog will find an acorn every once in a while,” Orson groused as he pushed up on an elbow. “Now, how about you help me up and let's get the hell out of here?"
"Good idea." Huck lifted his friend to his feet, which elicited a moan. "I've got you." He put one of Orson's arms around his neck and started walking him to the cell door.
"Huck,” Orson breathed out as wet, wheezy sounds emerged. “I like you and all, brother, but do you mind putting some pants on before you get this close to me?"
Huck chuckled as he glanced down at himself. He let go of Orson, who held onto the cell bars to keep himself from falling. Huck looked at the guard. The man appeared to be roughly his size. "These should work." He quickly relieved the body of its dungarees and put them on. They were a little tight, but they would do for now. Huck went back to Orson and helped him out of the cell.
"Much better." Orson grunted.
They made it to the stairs before Orson stopped, his breath coming in great gasps. "This ain’t going to be easy."
"I got you." Without giving him any warning, Huck lifted his friend in a fireman's carry, which drew a yelp from Orson.
"Shit!"
"You going to kiss your future mate with that mouth?" Huck’s voice was strained as he carried Orson up the stairs. "Maybe try to be quiet until we get out of here. I don't think there are any other wolves in the house, but it's better to be safe than sorry." When they reached the top of the stairs, Huck found himself in a dirty kitchen. He glanced around, his senses on high alert. The place seemed empty. With a grunt, he lowered Orson to his feet. The other wolf swayed but leaned against an old, green refrigerator and managed to stay upright.
"I think we're alone, O-man." Huck peeked around a wall between the kitchen and looked into a small living room.
"And I think we're gonna make it."
"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched. We don't have a clue where we are, where those bastards have gone, or when they'll be back. Not to mention how the heck we are going to get out of here when you can barely walk."
"You're wrong on that last one, bud." Orson pointed out the kitchen window. A green sedan rested in the driveway.
"That’d be great if we had a k—"
Huck stopped speaking when Orson pulled a key ring from magnetic hook stuck to the fridge and tossed it to him. "I think you better drive."
