“Welcome back to the front range,” Randall shouted, joining the others in keeping the tent upright. “It’s like war, but the weather edition.”
“If the hail gets any bigger, it’s gonna rip through,” Austin shouted.
With that said, a larger hailstone tore into the top of the tent, hitting Austin in the head. The three of them shielded the larger werewolf, covering their own heads while the ice pelted theirbacks. The storm only lasted for another five minutes before the wind and rain died, the only sounds remaining were groans from the injured werewolves as they emerged from their tattered tent.
“Well, that was fun,” Randall said, soaking wet and breathing in deep. “I love the smell after all hell breaks loose.”
“Didn’t anyone catch the weather report?” Austin asked, rubbing his head.
“Oops. Knew I forgot something,” Blake said, shuffling around his backpack. “Left the weather radio back in the barracks.”
Austin slapped the back of Blake’s head.
“Hey! At least we brought the tent this time.”
“Should’ve just bivouacked for all the good this did,” Austin said, picking through ripped-up nylon and bent, flimsy metal rods.
Randall knelt next to Austin, looking for his bag. “You said you used to live in the woods. How did you deal with the storms?”
“You don’t get storms like this at higher elevations. Just gotta worry about the blizzards burying you in the winter.”
“We should take a trip to the mountains and spend a week in the real forest.”
“No!” Austin shouted loud enough for the others to snap their heads toward him. “No,” he repeated, softer. “We—we can’t go in those woods.”
The other three nodded, not pressing Austin any further. They seemed to understand how to handle his fragile mental state. Instead of arguing, they went along with it.
“If you say we shouldn’t, then we won’t,” Steve said.
Austin’s ears fell to the sides of his head. “Bad stuff happened out there when I was half-turn. The day I left the forest, I didn’t stop running until I got through some of the most fucked-up demonic shit I’d ever seen. I lost a good friend that day, and I don’t wanna lose you guys.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Blake said softly. “You’re stuck with us.”
The scene darkened, and the smell of chemicals burned my nose as Austin sat alone on the floor in a concrete room, his fur falling out in clumps only to regrow. He shook violently, occasionally choking on bloody vomit he spat onto the floor.
Several humans wearing protective masks and yellow hazmat suits filed into the room, one holding a rapidly clicking Geiger counter.
“Can I please go back to my pack?” Austin asked, his voice weak. “It’s been almost a month.”
“This is the last test, Austin,” one of the men said, his voice muffled. “Once the levels go down, you can leave quarantine.”
“When’s that gonna be?”
“Another couple days,” the man said. “You’re doing good. You’re a part of something really important that’s gonna save a lot of lives.”
“No one will tell me what’s going on.”
“That’s because we can’t. We’ll check up on you in three days.”
The scene faded until it was just Austin sitting on the lower bunk of a bed, rocking back and forth. There was no one else in the barracks and it was midday. The door opened, and Austin jumped to attention, his tail wagging slightly before falling limp as a man in uniform entered.
“You should be sleeping. We’re going to need you rested up for some more tests.”
“More? I thought that was it.” He looked at the door. “Where are the others?”
“In isolation.”
“Why do we have to do this? I don’t understand.”
