Endangered Species

I thought it was a good line, delivered in the best manner a woman could do when trying to channel Vito Corleone. The problem was that I didn’t have Luca Brasi holding him with a gun to his head while trying to intimidate the old man into compliance.

“You insolent little BITCH,” General Payne yelled as he jumped up from his chair. I stood up to meet him, only to have my back explode in pain. Corporal Halitosis had nailed me just above the handcuffs with a shot to the kidney that damn near paralyzed me. I started to pitch forward, only to be caught by the other guard. “Stand her up,” he ordered. His Military Police detail hauled me up straight, turning me to face the old man as he came around the desk. The General took off his jacket and withdrew a handkerchief, wrapping it around the knuckles of his right hand. “You made a mistake, girl,” he said before he sent a brutal punch into my stomach.

I tightened my core before the punch, but the old man was double my weight and knew how to fight. That punch would have sent me flying into the wall if not for the two men holding my arms. As it was, he knocked the wind out of me. I fought to regain my breath, only to lose it again with a shot to the ribs. “You want to resign from the Navy? Fine. Resignation accepted.” Another punch, this time just above my left hip. “Your kind is a menace. Do you think we would forget the thousands of civilians and military personnel you killed to take Kitsap in the first place?” The next shot was to the solar plexus, and I had to fight the reflex to cry out in pain.

I was a werewolf now. That came with increased strength and fast healing, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch. I couldn’t fight back or protect myself, not with my hands cuffed behind me and two big guards holding me up. I closed my eyes, focusing on calming myself. If my wolf got out, I’d break both shoulders in the shift. A wolf with two broken front legs would go nowhere.

The men let me go, and I dropped to the tile floor. My head smacked the edge of the desk on the way down, opening up a cut on my cheek. I lay there, gasping for breath as the General stood over me. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You are nothing but a traitor to the United States Armed Forces. You don’t tell me a fucking thing to do. You do what I tell you.”

“Fuck you,” I sucked in a breath. “Sir.” It wasn’t the smartest or cleverest of comebacks, but it was all I had.

“I’ll make you an offer. Order your people to leave Kitsap base so my men can take over, and I won’t execute you by firing squad after sundown.” I closed my eyes, shaking my head no. “You don’t know the forces arrayed against you, Summers. One radio message, and hellfire rains down upon your Pack and your friends. Do you think your nuclear threat means shit to me? Those weapons have safeguards upon safeguards. Without the codes, they are big hunks of heavy metal. Seattle is a wasteland already, so don’t think Command will hesitate to vaporize everything up there. Your only chance to save your people is to surrender.”

I laughed at him, ignoring the blood coating my face and dripping to the floor. It was already healing. “I came here to save YOUR people, General. Kill me and you are more fucked than you can imagine.”

The General grabbed his uniform jacket and put it back on. Walking back around his desk, he grabbed his cover and sunglasses. “I guess I have a phone call to make,” he said with a shrug. “It just proves that your kind is both unreliable and disloyal. As amazing as your healing ability is, it doesn’t help the Army create better soldiers. Instead, it tears apart the rank structure and unit discipline from the inside.” He looked to the guards. “Take her to the flagpole and handcuff her to it. Strip her to her underwear so she can enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. Oh, and make sure she can look to the northwest. We wouldn’t want her to miss the mushroom clouds that represent her people dying.”

“Yes, General,” the Sergeant by the door answered. The two guards hauled me to my feet.

My wolf was fighting me to get loose and teach this man a lesson, but this wasn’t the time. I let the guards lead me out the door, the General following behind. The lobby was still filled with people. “Ensign Summers is guilty of desertion and treason during wartime,” the General said. “After sunset, if she has not surrendered her and her people, she will be executed by firing squad.”

The Ranger Captain wasn’t happy to see the blood on my face or the difficulty I was having breathing. “General, what is happening with this prisoner?”

“She’s going to be cuffed to the flagpole until she surrenders her people,” he replied as they passed.

The Captain had balls; he didn’t take that answer well. “Sir, that is torture, and it is prohibited by both Army regulations and the Geneva Conventions!”

The General stopped, turning on the junior officer. “She’s a soulless killer, just like the rest of her kind,” he answered with a snarl. “Move out.”

I was perp-walked out of the office and to the front lobby of the Headquarters building. My guards stopped so they could cover their faces with and put on gloves and sunglasses. The sun was climbing in the cloudless sky, and it was going to be a hot one. When ready, they pushed through the doors and into the sun.

My wolf vision didn’t make me immune to the ultraviolet light; it merely let me heal quickly from the damage. I kept my head down, and my eyes squinted as they walked me across the driveway to the circle of dried grass and dead flowers in front of the building. Two men held me with my back to the pole; a second set of handcuffs was snapped onto my wrists from behind the metal pole before the original pair was released. “Cut her clothes off,” the General ordered.

“Yes, SIR!” Mr. Bad Breath was eager to carry out the order, pulling out a combat knife while his partner removed my belt. I could smell his lust as he exposed my tanned midriff. “Too bad you aren’t in the cells. You and I could have a good time,” he whispered.

“You’ll have to jack off to your sissy porn like every other night,” I whispered back. He got mad, but his partner warned him to behave since everyone was watching. I stayed still as they cut through my utilities and bootlaces, leaving me in panties and a sports bra.

“Enjoy the day, Summers,” the General said as he moved to face me. “I’ll let you know what Command says about your threats. Your friends up there,” he pointed to the north, “are as good as….”

When I was in high school, my Dad took me out to sight in our rifles for deer season. Once they were ready, we had some fun. He set up a water jug, a watermelon, and a block of ice on fenceposts about fifty yards away. My Dad’s 300 Win Mag absolutely vaporized the block of ice, spraying chips everywhere. I went for the watermelon, shooting with my Winchester M70 Featherweight Stainless in 6.8 Western. The wet thwop of the exploding watermelon, shooting red mist twenty yards behind it, was a distinctive sight and sound. It was precisely the same as what happened to the General’s head when a high-powered bullet hit him in the forehead.

Two seconds later, I heard the bark of a rifle.