The Wolves of Terra

By Colin Coleman

"Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms and the moon is shining bright." What does it mean to be a monster that hunts other, lesser monsters? Can a man overcome the monster within but still obtain his goals without becoming what he hunts in the night?

Staff Sergeant Clint Langdon was just a rank-and-file soldier stationed in Afghanistan until one night, his post is saved from insurgents by an unlikely force, a werewolf pack. He is then thrust into a world beyond his understanding, where he will have to adapt quickly and overcome many obstacles in order to pass both the trials and tests that will be put before him.

The path before him will be long, winding, and difficult. But he will not be facing these trials and tribulations alone. He will have others to help him on his journey.

Will he overcome his inner beast and step up for the greatness that awaits him, or will his inner beast overtake him and cast him down? This is the heart-racing journey of how the ordinary can become extraordinary and how to make the most of it when the time comes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638815129

Book preview

Chapter 1

It all began in Afghanistan, specifically on my second deployment. I was stationed at the Combat Outpost Nangalam, about fifty clicks from the eastern border with Pakistan. After a while of being stationed there, I was put on the night shift for guard duty.

At first, it sucked because it was boring as all hell. But I was able to see things that one wouldn’t normally see during the daytime. I was also able to teach a local how to play chess. He was a fast learner, and before long, he was actually beating some of the NCOs in the base.

Then one night, everything changed. It was an almost cloudless night, and the moon was full. I didn’t really need my NVGs to see in my immediate field of view, but the NVGs I had had a zoom function and a recording device hooked up to them. I was looking out over the moonlit mountains that rolled up in front of me, and I noticed some movement in between large bits of rock and foliage that could be used as cover, concealment, or both. I quickly flipped down my NVGs and began zooming in as fast as I could. They were locals. Just as I leaned down to call in this on the radio to ask if anyone frequented this area, I got my answer to their intentions in the form of rounds from AKs pinging off the tower’s metal sheets.

It was at this point that I hit the deck in the tower and began trying different frequencies as fast as my hand could turn the knob. After about ten seconds of trying to raise someone on the TACNET, I received a response.

We read you, Nanga. This is Whiskey Foxtrot Actual. We are one mike out. Keep your head down. We’re coming in with some JDAMs, I replied my thanks back to the F-18 pilot as I looked around and realized my NVGs were still over my eyes. Then I remembered that I had a nephew that always wanted to see a munitions drop from a jet fighter.

Smiling, I flicked on the record button on my NVGs and held them just over the edge of the cover of the metal plates and sandbags when I noticed that the gunfire had stopped. I dared myself to peek up over my little bit of cover and put my NVGs back on because my eyes hadn’t adjusted back. Scanning the area where the locals I had spotted just minutes before, I was greeted with something that made me feel like the marrow in my bones had become ice. The locals were there, but they were all dead on the ground. And some of them were in pieces. I gasped softly when I saw that there were figures standing over the bodies.

The figures were massive. They looked at least eight feet tall, despite being at a distance. They were covered in fur and looked canine in nature. But what got me were their eyes. They were glowing. And they were looking at me. I froze, unable to think of what to do next. Basic had always taught us how to handle human combatants, not eight-foot-tall monsters.

One of the monsters stood up to its full height, almost nine feet tall, and pointed at me. I couldn’t hear what it was saying, but I could read its lips, or what passed for lips on a biped wolf. We’re on camera! it seemed to say. Then the thing’s head turned to something I couldn’t see. I turned my head to see what it was seeing, and I was glad I had used the latrine a couple of hours ago because I would have pissed my fatigues otherwise.

Another one of those things had pulled out what looked like a .44 Magnum but was easily twice as big. That wasn’t what worried me. What worried me was that it looked like it was taking aim at me. I heard a faint whistle, and the creature with the Dirty Harry revolver lowered it, though he looked upset about it.

It was then that I heard another whistle. This one was louder, and I assumed it was for me to hear. Refocusing my NVGs on the one that had pointed at me, I noticed that the creature actually had on combat gear! At least from the knees up, it did. It had a vest with a trauma plate underneath, an earpiece, its own M4 rifle, albeit larger, and a pair of sidearms on the outside of each hip, as well as all the gear I would normally have on for a foot patrol, minus a pair of boots!

I stood there, dumbfounded, before the creature actually smiled at me before turning back to the rest of the group that I assumed it was leading and made the gesture to move out. But they didn’t run, not on two legs. They all dropped onto all fours and took off, as fast as any Humvee we had at the motor pool.

Just as I saw the things vanish around a bend, I heard the engines from our F18s, and I promptly hit the deck again and covered my head. The thing they never tell you about large munitions, even when they are not landing in danger close to your position, is that first you feel the explosion. Then you hear it.

This was no different. And I thought my guard tower was going to fall over from the force of the blast, but it held. I waited for about ten seconds before looking up. I then noticed that I got dirt from the explosion in my mouth. After spitting it out and picking myself up, I checked the area where the creatures had been before and was greeted with a couple of craters and smoldering brush.

It was then that I got a beeping from my helmet. Looking around, I noticed that I had recorded the entire encounter with the creatures and hadn’t realized it until now! Oh, man, the amount of paperwork I’m gonna have to fill out for this, I said as I hit the button on my NVGs to stop the recording. Sitting back down in the chair provided in the tower, I cradled my head in my hands, trying to make sense of what all of this meant.

I didn’t have long to think because I received a hard pounding on the outside of my guard tower. Drawing my 9mm Beretta, I looked over the edge of the tower’s side, 9mm in front of me, and I was greeted with Corporal Ryan who threw up his hands in surprise. Woah, Sarge! I didn’t know that you got all jumpy in a firefight!

Let’s see you not be a little shaken up when the air jockeys decide to drop a pair of two-ton bombs to deal with some small arms fire! I said with a growl as I holstered my sidearm. You here to take my place? I said, my tone more positive this time, and I added a smirk to it.

He nodded. Yeah. The LT decided that you might wanna sleep off that shell shock, he said as he stepped to the side of the ladder, giving me room to climb down.

As my boots hit the dirt, I inhaled, counted to four, exhaled, and counted to four again. I did this a couple more times before opening my eyes, which I hadn’t realized I had closed. Sarge, you all right? Ryan said to me, waving a couple of fingers in front of my face.

I sneered at him. Don’t wave your hands so close to my face. I might bite them off. To which we both laughed.

Ryan jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the barracks. I assume you know where your bunk still is?

Yeah, assuming you didn’t fuck with it, I said with a chuckle as I started walking to the barracks. Pushing the door open, I was greeted with the same old hallway that had greeted me the entirety of my deployment. I exhaled, not realizing I had been holding my breath. Walking down the hallway to my room, my body felt heavier, and my footsteps sounded louder. I was extremely relieved to find my room and enter it without anyone noticing my behavior.

Closing the door, I removed my heavy gear and sat on my bed before letting my head fall into my hands with a soft slap. I lost track of how long I was in that position. Something caught my eye after what felt like an hour of cradling my head and trying to figure out what the fuck I had just seen. I looked at what caught my eye, my NVGs.

Without even thinking about it, I reached out for them and turned them all the way off before removing the memory chip and putting it into the case for it that was on the small card table. Standing up, I walked over to the table, found the case, and put it in. Then putting the case in my pocket, I walked back over to my bunk and literally fell into it, falling asleep within minutes.

Chapter 2

That night’s sleep wasn’t much better. Nightmare after nightmare plagued me, waking me up no less than four times before the sun came up. The fifth time I was able to fall asleep I was woken up by someone shaking me. Sarge! Sarge! After my eyes focused, I saw that it was Corporal Ryan shaking me awake.

Huh? What…what is it, Ryan? I said, annoyance clear in my tone.

Ryan held his hands up in front of him before speaking. Hey, it’s not my fault! You’re wanted at the command HQ, now. I perked up at the urgency in his tone and snapped fully awake at that point.

All right, just let me get dressed first, I said as I clambered out of bed and put my ACUs and cap on.

Standing up fully, I cracked my neck and looked at Ryan. He was at the doorway now. Get the door, would you? I said with a smirk as he opened it, and I was greeted by two men that just screamed CIA spook. It wasn’t because of their unmarked black Kevlar vests, nor was it the sunglasses. It was the fact that both of them were holding H&K G36C assault rifles instead of the usual M4s.

Follow us, Sergeant Langdon, one of the spooks said, his tone full of authority. I nodded. Lead the way then, I said as I followed one of the spooks and the other followed behind me. We arrived in the base’s HQ in no time; and I was escorted through the doorway, through a hall, and up to a door guarded by two more spooks. These two weren’t holding any kind of assault rifles. They only had their arms crossed over their chests. My answer to what they carried was soon answered when I glanced at their sidearms. Each of them had a pair of Desert Eagles.

I must have said something because the two spooks looked at me and smirked. One of them then opened the door and nodded to the now-open doorway. I said nothing further as I quickly walked inside, removing my head cover and wringing it nervously.

I looked around the room, and it was unremarkable. It was about twice as big as my bunk room, and minus the desk at the rear of the room, it was almost empty. There was someone behind the desk, facing away from me. He was apparently holding something, which was keeping his attention away from me. But I would have bet that this was a man who frequented the Pentagon.

Staff Sergeant Clint Langdon, rolls off the tongue rather well, don’t you think? The man behind the desk said, turning around, producing