The Grave Diggers Part 1 + 2

This story features Dena and Jolon's fathers and takes place five years before the events of 'Werewolves: Haven Rising.' 

It was storming again, wet torrents coming down in wind-swept sheets that drenched fur and left it slick, matted against skin and taught muscle. It was the kind of rain that blotted out the world with its fury—deafening and blinding all at once. A tempest of inconvenience. Freshly-turned earth transformed into a sucking, muddy mire pockmarked by small pools, their surfaces rippling with raindrops. It was a mess. 

Delsin loathed the rain. He always had. He hated how it blotted out the moon and drained his will to do anything but slink indoors and hide away until the sun came out again, how the downpour ran through the deserted city streets in small tributaries, collecting into streambeds that once were roads. Trenches that had been alive with passing trains became slot canyons prone to flash floods. Haven was like that after the war—a purgatory where once-proud werewolves waited to die, washed away like they'd never been.

Most of all, he hated how difficult it was to dig a proper grave when the gods saw fit to rip open the heavens and take an almighty piss all over him.

He hated that he deserved it.

The shovel landed with a wet thud several feet away, quivering with the power of Delsin's throw. He wouldn't get anything done like this, not even in wolf form. Sahale's body would have to wait.

He retreated back to relatively dry comfort beneath the medical building's low-hanging eaves and leaned back against the wall, lighting a cigarette. He'd found a whole mess of the things in a warehouse past old Fairhaven and taken to smoking them when he was stressed. He was stressed all the time now, and so he also smoked all the time, much to the distress of his wife and son. He hated how they cringed at his smell when he came home at the end of the day almost as much as he hated this gods-damned rain.

"It's a nasty business."

Delsin jerked back hard enough to crack his head against the wall; fortunately his lupine skull was thick or he might have actually hurt himself. The pungent smoke had masked Jaci's scent as he approached. "Rain," he grunted, holding out his hand and soaking the pads of his fingers as if to demonstrate. "Can't finish the grave like this."

"Colonel will only give you so much time, you know," Jaci said. "Best get it done." He pointed a second shovel toward the half-dug grave. "I came out to help."

"Pointless," Delsin said. He breathed out a giant plume of smoke. He'd gotten quite good at talking while smoking in wolf form. The trick was to keep the cigarette to one side, nestled between his teeth while speaking out the other half of his muzzle. "The gods don't want us anymore. Every burial gets interrupted somehow. They've forsaken us, and for good reason."

"You don't mean that," Jaci said. "That's the weather talking. You'll feel better once this is behind us and the moon comes out again." He frowned as Delsin puffed out another gray plume. "You know Tama hates that stuff, right?"

"She's not the wolf burying one of her old friends. She doesn't even know he's dead."

"Chain smoking won't change any of that."

"Won't hurt either." Delsin tapped his chest with his knuckles. "Wolf side keeps the lungs clean."

Jaci shook his head. "We don't know that for sure."

Delsin's beast raged unexpectedly. He snarled and spit the cigarette to the ground. It landed, extinguished by the rain with a dull sizzle. "Maybe that cocksucker, Williams, can study me next, then!" he roared. "Cut open my chest! Check for cancers and black lung!"

"Easy, now." 

"Or what?" Delsin asked. "The walls have ears?"

"Some of them do."

"Then I guess this gods-damned rain is good for something. Nobody's hearing shit over it!"

Jaci gave a half-hearted laugh. "See? You're already looking on the bright side."

They both leaned against the building for a minute, neither of them speaking as the rain pounded down insistently less than a foot away, demanding their undivided attention. Delsin soothed his beast with a fresh cigarette and the smoke lulled it back to sleep. Once he was sure it was down for good, he allowed himself to speak.

"Sorry," he grunted. "It's getting harder to keep myself in check."

"I know what you mean."

"I keep thinking about my pup." Delsin's paw shivered as he took the half-finished cigarette from his lips and tapped the ash off to the side. He told himself the shaking was because of the chill, but he knew it was his nerves getting the better of him. "One of these days, Jolon's going to find out about what's happening over here." he said. "So's your kid."

"I try not to think about Dena finding out about any of this," Jaci said.

"They'll hate us, you know."

Jaci shook his head. "Give them a little credit. They're smart kids. They'll know that we did this for them."

"And that's why they'll hate us."

Silence was Jaci's only reply. Maybe Delsin had gone too far mentioning his pup. The last thing he wanted was to lose him as a friend—he wasn't ready to dig another grave just yet.

The rain was starting to let up and a sliver of moon managed to peek its way out of the clouds. Delsin sighed and went to retrieve his shovel as Jaci followed. Between the two of them, they were able to finish off Sahale's grave in less than an hour. It was good work. Something about physical labor felt right in Delsin's mind. Just forget the details and throw yourself into the job. Feel the burn in your muscles and watch tangible progress unfold in front of you. No need to overthink things. Not at all like long nights staring into the fire, at war with himself over what he should do and what he shouldn't. There was just this hole, and for now that was all he needed to dwell on.

Until he stopped for a moment and remembered what the hole was for.

Jaci jammed the shovel into the earth beside the hole and Delsin followed his lead. Both of them stood quietly and regarded their work. The grave was deep—at least seven feet down as requested. Nobody but the grave diggers and their human handlers could know where the bodies were buried. The weather had calmed while they worked and the sudden silence weighed heavier on their shoulders than the rain had. Of course it didn't help that their fur was sopping wet and dripping on the ground. There was a time, not so long ago, when they might have found the sight of each other drenched to the bone amusing. But times change with the passing of years, as do men.

"You never told me how he died," Jaci said. He asked his question casually, even though he knew it was the one thing Delsin didn't want to hear.

Delsin thought about his answer while he fumbled in his pocket for another cigarette. What words to use. How to avoid the truth without actually lying to the man he'd known since he was a pup. He lit his cigarette and breathed the smoke in deep. Somehow that made him feel better. "Sahale went feral," he said between puffs. "Killed two privates and then went after the colonel, himself. They had to put him down." It was technically the truth, even if it left out some very important parts of the story, such as the notable fact that Sahale's beast had been purposefully provoked during the experiment, overstimulated to the point where he went berserk.

"We've seen a lot of death, here, my friend," Jaci said. He was looking out of the courtyard toward the medical building. "Dug a lot of graves. How can we keep doing this?"

Delsin shook his head. "It's slowed down since the scientists figured out what they were doing," he said. "Fewer accidents." He looked down at a long scar running its way along his forearm. The military doctors had cut him in human form several years ago, before they understood that the werewolves' much-vaunted healing ability only extended as far as their wolf forms. "That's why we volunteered. They won't make as many mistakes if we work with them and explain what they need to know."

"That didn't help Sahale," Jaci said.

"The beast comes for us all." Delsin took another drag and he could almost see the smoke traveling through his lungs into the no-space where the beast lived. He could swear that if he closed his eyes he could watch as the beast inhaled and was placated. The smoke was an offering before the old gods. He should have given a pack of cigs to Sahale last week; then this whole regrettable business might never have happened.

Jaci took a few steps away from the grave toward the work shed. "You ever worry that we're too numb to this?"

"Course I do," Delsin said. "Every time I let myself think it nearly kills me. So I don't."

"You just dug your best friend's grave."

"I just…I don't know what else to do…" Delsin remembered the guilt, the anger, and the pain he'd felt as if those emotions had afflicted some other wolf. It all hurt a lot less when he visited med bay. "We're grave diggers, Jaci. We do this so the others don't have to." He pointed an accusing finger. "We made a blood-pact that we'd do this work together. We can't keep our families away from the humans' tests, but that little bit of hope they have left? Can't we let them have that?"

"It's gone too far," Jaci said. Delsin thought he could see tears welling up in the corner of his friend's eyes. So much for optimism. "We have to do something."

"Only thing you need to do is report to Nurse Shaw and get your gods-damned meds."

"The meds are making us into unfeeling monsters."

Delsin kicked a clod of dirt back into the hole where it landed with a wet splat. "We didn't kill him!"

"We might as well have."

"Take a cigarette," Delsin said. He held out the pack.

"What?" Jaci replied. "You know I don't—"

"Take a gods-damned cigarette before I put you in that hole!"

Jaci shivered, his deep brown fur sending water droplets every which way. He reached out a paw, taking a single cigarette and the lighter. "You feel that anger?" he said as he lit up and handed the lighter back. "Hear what you just said to me?"

Delsin grunted as he pocketed everything and got ready to head back indoors. Jaci was getting on his nerves. Not because he was wrong, but because his words betrayed him. The man was off his meds again. "Come with me," he said. "We're gonna visit med bay and fix you up, okay?"

For a moment it looked like Jaci was about to argue. Stubbornness flashed in his eyes that reminded Delsin of the early days. But the past was the past and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He put an arm around his friend's shoulders and turned him around to look him in the eyes.

"You want a future with Dena?" Delsin asked. "A real future?" He slowly maneuvered Jaci toward med bay as he talked.

"More than anything."

"Then help me keep you alive."

Jaci shook his head. "They're going to kill us all," he said. "How can you not see that?"

"Williams took me aside last night," Delsin said. "They're close to a breakthrough. If we can just hold on, then they'll let us rest. We can live like we always wanted. In peace."

"We'd still be stuck here. In Haven."

"We knew that when we struck the deal at the end of the war."

Jaci stared off into the distance and nearly stumbled as he took another step. "Can a slave really consent to being a slave?"

Delsin groaned. "Leave the philosophy to people who can afford it," he said. "That's a rich man's game, and we're not even men. Wolves survive and protect our pack as best we can." He pointed outward, toward the wall that surrounded Haven. "The wolves who fought out there? They're dead. We made a call, and because of that decision we survived when they didn't. We endured."

"Endured is the right word for it." Jaci said as he sucked in a lung-full of smoke. He had absolutely no idea how to enjoy a cigarette through a wolf's muzzle. Delsin would have to show him sometime so he didn't make a fool out of himself in front of the pack. Assuming he survived this little crisis of conscience, of course.

"Damn it, man," Delsin muttered. "They hear you talking like that and they're gonna kill you. You understand me? We took an oath! We do what we do so our pack doesn't have to!" He reached out and took Jaci's muzzle in his hands and held him until he was looking directly into his eyes. "For Dena's sake, man. If for no one else's! Let's finish this together so your pup can grow up safe."

He looked into his friend's eyes and saw a flash of hope.

"Alright," Jaci said. "For Dena."

Delsin clapped him on the back. "That's it! I knew you still had a bit of that eternal optimism left in you!"

They walked together toward med bay, arms over each other's shoulders just like in the old days before Haven. Before the war. For the briefest of moments Delsin was happy again.

The beast within tried to remind him that there used to be three wolves doing this walk up from the graveyard, not only two. It tried to remind him of Sahale's warning. About the military's psychological experiments, turning wolves against each other—suppressing the empathy centers of the brain while stimulating their base survival instincts without the benefit of a conscience.

The wolf within breathed smoke as it withered. It knew what was happening even if Delsin, himself, did not.   

One day it would awaken again and there would be a reckoning.

 End, part 1