Ayaan looked closer. The naked bodies in the back had been surgically adjusted. They had neither hands nor lips. Their torpor, she imagined, would only be temporary'their metabolisms had been dialed back by the green phantom. She looked up and saw him on the roof of the truck, tied into a lawn chair bolted in amongst a wide array of fog lights and horns. He grinned down at her when he saw her jump in surprise.
The passenger side door of the truck swung open. The werewolf sat in the driver's seat and he slid across to reach down and give her a hand up. He showed her how to use her seat belt and how to adjust the air conditioning and the CD player. This was necessary since the dashboard was so long he was unable to reach those instruments while belted into the driver's seat.
'This is the... the job the Tsarevich offered me?' Ayaan asked.
The werewolf replied in English. 'This is just the easy part. Later on you might have to fill up the gas tank. Hi, we haven't been properly introduced.' He held out one hand, a furry appendage ending in inch-long, razor-sharp claws. They weren't like fingernails at all, more like the talons of a bird, conical and slightly curved.
Ayaan figured out a second too late that he was offering the hand to shake. She reached for it even as he was pulling it back and the claws slid across the skin of her palm. The skin parted like torn silk. At least there was no blood.
He looked embarrassed, though it was hard to tell. Even if he could have blushed his face was hidden under a dense growth of hair that covered his nose and made his mouth a dark slit. His eyes were surprisingly soft and kind, though. 'I don't have any 'powers' in the traditional sense. My body does this weird thing, though. It doesn't breathe, it doesn't perspire, or do anything you would think a living thing might do, but it keeps producing keratin. The protein that makes, well, hair and nails. I have to shave myself head to foot every couple of days.' He put his hands on the steering wheel, making an obvious gesture of it'he meant her no harm, he was saying. 'My name's Erasmus, by the way.'
She smiled for him. 'Ayaan.'
'Sure, sure, I know all about you. I'm German, if you can't tell from the accent.' Whatever accent the werewolf might have came from the mass of fur inside his mouth, Ayaan thought, but she let him talk. He clearly needed to tell the story. 'Believe it or not the Tsarevich didn't create me. I want you to know that, so you'll understand a little. I was in Leipzig when the world ended. It was bad there. The local authorities had heard already what happened to New York, to Paris. They mostly fled when the first ghouls came wandering into town. I took refuge in a hospital, hoping to outlast the Epidemic, but of course it just kept coming and coming. I starved to death, afraid to leave my little locked ward, watching shadows move outside the blinds, knowing they could get in any time if they just tried hard enough.'
He closed his eyes and his face became an oblong of hair. 'When it gets down to the end, when your body is breaking down from hunger, you can feel it. It hurts. I took all the drugs I was locked in with, took anything that would get me high. In the last days I discovered that if you breathed pure oxygen long enough you could feel nothing at all.' He chuckled. 'I had no idea what I was doing. I just fell asleep one day and when I woke up I was rolled up in a cocoon of hair. I could barely move.'
Ayaan's stomach grumbled. She didn't like all this talk of starving'it just made her hungry.