Splitting on the Fence

The battle cries erupted from both ends of the town square, ripping the still of the night into tatters.

Oscar Ware jumped. He still hadn’t chosen. The decision’s weight crushed him until he froze, unable to act. How could you decide on something of this size? There were advantages and disadvantages for both teams. What if he picked it, and it was the wrong choice? What if he experienced buyer’s remorse? He needed to weigh every possible pro and con underneath a magnifying glass. Only then could he decide, and after much deliberation. He’d always been this way and would be until the day he died. He frowned and looked from one side to the other. ‘W-Wait, wait a second,’ he stammered. ‘I still need to choose!’

But the monsters paid him no mind. They charged across the moonlit no man’s land that was the dead town of Fallgate. They raced towards him from both sides while he stood in the middle – the last human.

He squeaked. Everybody else in town had picked a side. Some went with the vampires; some went with the werewolves. The decision had split families in half, which showed how important this debate was. But you had to decide. Otherwise, you’d be vulnerable when the fighting started. Fallgate had fallen right between the respective turfs of the two warring factions. He spun around in a complete 360, taking in the people – the creatures – racing towards him. ‘Folks, if you could wait a second, I haven’t yet decided. I’m still not sure what the best possible decision is. The choice is quite complicated!’

The vampires came from the north end. Some bloodsuckers poofed into bat form and took to the skies. They blotted out the moon’s glow with a flutter of their leathery wings. A shrill screech punctured the air, popping it like a water balloon filled with red dye. Fangs, ready for blood, jutted over lower lips.

Oscar whimpered as the noise jabbed his eardrums. He’d spoken with the vampires. One of the older ones, an angular woman named Amaya Gorgophone, had offered him eternal life. Oscar had told her he needed to think about it. Sure, becoming a vampire meant being alive forever, which sounded neat. You could also take a lot of damage and still walk away. Or fly away because vampires could take the form of a bat. How cool would that be? But you had to subside on nothing but human blood. Oscar would never again be able to enjoy the foods he loved so much. And he’d have to take human lives – something he’d thus far avoided in life – to survive. Oh, and he’d never see the sun again. Or his reflection. Choices, choices, choices. Amaya had told him to take his time but not too long because the war was coming.

The werewolves raced from the south. The paved tiles underfoot vibrated from the thump of their paws. They charged, eyes wild and yellow, foam flying from their mouths. A rumbling roar thundered through the earth, tearing it like claws through paper. Jaws, slaked with saliva, opened wide.

Oscar whined as the noise reverberated through his bowels. He’d spoken with the werewolves. The alpha of the pack, a hairy chap named Aldebrand Faerberg, had welcomed him with open arms. Oscar had told him he needed to think about it. Werewolves were a once-a-month type of creature, which meant that his life would be usual most of the time. It wasn’t as big a commitment as vampirism. But the werewolves were quite wild and uncontrollable. You tended to lose all agency once that full moon rose. And he wouldn’t live forever if he chose lycanthropy; werewolves still died of old age. But, as with vampirism, he’d be bloody strong. It would take a silver bullet or something like that to put him down. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Aldebrand had told him to take his time but not too long because the war was coming.

He wanted the best of both worlds. He wanted to live forever but still enjoy the sunshine. He wished to eat all he wanted but still have self-control. And, most of all, he wanted to be still standing once the bloodshed was all said and done. If he backed the wrong side, that might not happen. Vampires and werewolves were almost invincible. But that didn’t mean there weren’t ways to defeat them. Some of these vampires might carry silver blades. Some of these werewolves might carry wooden stakes. Oscar tapped his lower lip with his finger, his face drawn in a rictus of concentration. ‘One of the many issues is that—’

A vampire flew past him, slicing his neck with its manicured, pointed nails. His head snapped backwards, a second mouth opening across his throat. Blood squirted from the gash in his carotid, spraying over the grey tiles. The crimson rattled to the ground like rain. The impact spun Oscar first one way.

‘GAK!’

A werewolf barrelled into him, tearing a chunk out of his side with its teeth. Ribs and bones cracked and snapped like twigs. Guts and innards plopped out in a jumbled mess of shredded sausage links. The strike sent Oscar spinning in the other direction.

‘GURK!’

After the initial dominoes toppled, the rest of the pieces followed. The armies of the werewolves and the vampires swept over him. They crushed him between them like a peanut caught between two cogs in a rumbling machine. They tossed him about like bullies with a nerd’s schoolbag. They paid him the same amount of mind that an elephant does to an insect buzzing around its thudding feet. The wolves and the vamps battered and sliced him and knocked him to the pavement.

Oscar squealed through his throatful of blood, sounding like a man underwater. Pain detonated everywhere all at once. Blood exploded from every orifice and out of a hundred fresh wounds. The world became a flurrying snowstorm of claws, teeth, wings, and eyes. He was but collateral damage in this battle. He could have had the chance to live to see another day if he’d sworn allegiance to the werewolves. Or another night if he entered the vampire’s ranks. Oscar finally understood, albeit too late: indecisiveness could tear you apart.

And so could vampires and werewolves.