Sea Wolves

Part I - Chapter I - May 17th - Monday

~General warning for descriptions of wounds, wound care, and cursing.

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A couple of nights later, Rooster learns why they got certified.

They're working in Maverick's hangar, near dark, fiddling with engines and car parts in an effort to teach Theresa how these things work, now that she has her own bike. She knows how human innards work, and these are essentially car innards, so how hard could it be?

A cool breeze wafts through the hangar, rustling Rooster's hair. He watches Mav laying on the ground beside his Kawasaki where Theresa kneels beside him, pointing out and naming a few parts he had identified for her.

"Hey Bradley, can you get the lug wrench from my toolbox?"

"Sure," Rooster wipes his hands off on a rag and slips behind Maverick's P-51 Mustang to get the wrench.

He wasn't expecting company. A big, black wolf type of company especially. "Holy shit!"

"Rooster!" Mav drops everything, up and sprinting across the hangar in about two seconds flat. "Theresa, grab the rifle from the trailer!"

Her footfalls fall hollow as she makes it up the stairs and throws open the camper door. Rooster whirls out from behind the Mustang, nearly running Maverick over, who is standing several yards off the plane, drawing a pistol from the waist band on his pants. "You okay?"

"Why the hell do you have that!" He grabs Mav's shoulders when he shouts.

"Rooster, just take care of Theresa!" Rooster nearly falls backwards when Mav pushes him, surprise etched clearly into his face. There's a loud bang as the trailer door slams back against itself. Theresa appears in the doorway with the rifle, jumping the steps.

The wolf shoots out from under the P-51. "Give it to me!" Rooster throws his hand out for it. Theresa ducks out of the strap and hands it off to her father in one fluid motion as he orders her back to the trailer.

Maverick fire's thrice, missing all three. He jukes right, but suddenly there's a sharp pain in his leg, and the wolf has it in its jaw.

"Mav!" Rooster clicks the safety off and fires, hitting the ground several times before managing to hit the wolf. It let's go of Mav's leg, turning and snarling at Rooster. The rifles barrel is dead in line with the wolfs skull, all Rooster has to do is fire. Mav groans, trying to be quite as he rolls onto his side to relieve the pressure on his leg. He locks eyes with Theresa, and she can see pain in his face and fear in his eyes. It takes every ounce of will power in her body not to sprint to his aid immediately. Thank God his leg isn't bleeding much.

The wolf half lunges at Rooster. He fires twice, but the wolf slips right on by and back out the open hangar doors, into the desert night. Only Theresa notices it shoot around the right side of the hangar, though not to were.

"Mav." Rooster clicks the safety back on and rushes to Mav's side, Theresa hot on his heels. "Holy shit, Mav, he got you good."

"No shit," Mav let's out a twenty second string of curses that makes Theresa blush as she examines his wound.

"Easy, easy Mav," Theresa whispers reassuringly. "You're not bleeding too much. Which is good."

"Hurts like a bitch," Mav grimaces, trying to pull the leg back to the correct position.

"I'm gonna get the first aid kit," Rooster squeezes Mav's hand, then hurries to the trailer. Mav seethes, again trying to lift the leg to a more comfortable position.