White Wolf Rising [Completed]

Slaughter House

Caleb put his cell back in his pocket, after attempting to call Stan three more times. He knew something was very wrong over at Stan's place. Stan had been calling him off the hook for the last two days, now he's too busy to chat. Something was wrong. But he had no time to think on it, Caleb had his own problem. Like the dead bodies in Freddie's living room?

One of the neighbors had called Freddie to ask about the commotion; the gun shots coming from his home. He made up a quick lie about his gun going off while cleaning it. They accepted the answer and passed the message to the other neighbors who were lurking around concerned about his well being.

Caleb called the Sheriff's station and relayed the message of the gun going off during cleaning to stop any patrol that may have been called. Thankfully every bought the lie, for the moment. But there was no way of knowing if anyone would show up to do a wellness check anyway. He could not have that. They needed to think quick.

The fact that Caleb had just killed three people and beheaded five hadn't really sunk in yet. He tried to keep his mind on Freddie. He had called Dr. Rhodes and told him he would be there with Freddie soon. He asked him to please keep this discrete and pretended it was official business with the Sheriff's department. The good doctor agreed, but knew there was more to the story. But he did not pry. Which seemed a bit strange to Caleb but there were more pressing matters at hand, no time to ponder.

     Freddie laid on his side curled up in a ball, his body battered and bloodied. Pain not coming from just one area but all over. Every muscle, tendon, he had two bites and random gashes and scrapes that burned like acid. 

     He needed to heal, Caleb had been running around like a chicken with it's head cut off for the last ten minutes, calling Stan, calling the doctor, calling the station and grabbing every bed sheet he had out of Freddie's closet and of his bed. He was preparing to wrap the bodies up but hadn't yet brought himself to do it.

Caleb had started to pace in the bedroom, stomping back and forth, talking to himself, the man was freaking out. Which was understandable since he had just dismembered five people in Freddie's home. It wasn't a pleasant sight and not something you could easily shake off. The blood...the carnage... the sound of it. Caleb's hand shook.

Freddy was slowly bleeding out and needed help, now. He couldn't wait on Stan any longer. And the trash bag full of heads was beginning to give him the heebie jeebies. He needed to get back on his feet, neither of them knew if any others were coming to look for their friends. He was no condition to walk, let alone fight.

Only a few feet away from him was hunting knife one of the men had dropped. Freddie slowly crawled towards the blade on the floor, each inch felt like a thousand needles were stabbing him all at once. Once he had the knife in hand he continued to crawl at a snail pace to the closest dead body to him. One of the thugs laying next to Veronica, the vixen who liked to play a little too rough.

Slowly he sat on his knees staring down at the lifeless body, and began to cut the dead mans blood soaked shirt free from his torso. Every movement made Freddie wince and then wretch in pain. He didn't know any other way to stop the bleeding, at this rate he was going to die if he didn't do...what he really did not want to do.

Raising the knife high as his battered body would allow, he slammed the hunting knife into the man's chest, the serrated edges sliced into his chest cavity with ease. The blade was razor sharp, yet still managed to get hung up on hunks of muscle and tattered flesh as pulled the knife free. He stabbed him again, then again, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his body. Once he had created a hole big enough Freddie discarded the knife and punched his way threw the man's rib cage.