August 8, 1971 Berlin, Germany

Greeting to anyone who reads this, I am Juan Martin of the wolfs division. I served in the US military for four years, until recently. I was with my squad out in Grunewald, a tranquil yet ominous forest in Berlin. It was getting dark so we decided to set up camp for the night. Despite the threat of the Soviets, we took this opportunity get to know each other better. Our commanding officer, Lieutenant Wilson, wanted no involvement preferring to keep thing professional. The others were more open to the idea; the stress of combat takes its toll after all. Our rookie, Private Mathew admitted he only joined due to the many films he watched. Second in command Richard hoped the money he’d gain would be enough to buy a house. That just left our resident explosive expert, Private Davidson was in it to take on the Soviets. We shared drinks and told stories under the moonlit sky. That was when I decided to throw my hat in the ring and tell an old fable my Grandparents once told me. It was the story of wolf and its cub.

There was a wolf who lived his cub. The wolf and cub were happy and ran all across the forest. That was until a hunter found the cub and took it away from its home. The wolf, stricken with rage and grief, howled endlessly for nights on end in hopes the cub would return. The wolf soon found an item that belonged to the hunter, a hat. Using its sense of smell, the wolf followed the hunters tracks in the hopes of finding the cub.

Before I could finish the story, the sound of gun shots rang out followed by the sound of howling. Something was off with these howls. They sounded nothing like any wolf I knew of. They sounded deeper and more primal. Lieutenant Wilson ordered for us to head towards an abandoned building. While running, I could hear Davidson open fire into the darkness with his rifle before screaming. The screams were followed by the sound of gnashing teeth and tearing flesh. We entered the building and slammed the door behind us. Mathew was shellshocked from the sounds of gun fire while Richard demanded to know what was chasing them. Wilson, for his part, was just as clueless as they were. All I knew was that whatever chased us was no wolf. Wilson tried to change the subject and ordered for everyone to bunker down. The last thing I heard before following my squad was sound of howling.

As we were barricading the building, we ended up with some unexpected visitors. Luckily, it wasn’t the creatures that tool Davidson. It was Soviet soldiers that were also on the run from the creatures. If we weren’t in a cold war, we might have been able to find common ground in our current predicament. Alas, propaganda does funny things to the mind. Almost immediately, my squad and the Soviets pointed their rifles at each other. As the tension began to rise, I noticed that Davidson was acting strange. Like he was trying to take advantage of the situation. Suddenly, the lights went out and the sound of inhuman footsteps rang out in the building. The silence was instantly broken by the sound of screaming and gun shots. Through the light of the gun fire, I could barely make out the shape of the creatures. The creatures had the head, legs, and tail of a wolf but were built more like a man with arms that end in clawed hands. I was helpless as the creatures tore apart my squad and the soviets. All except Davidson who ran from the ordeal.

I chased him down the hall and felt a strange sensation. I could feel my legs reshape and body shift and contort, the sound of bone breaking and reattaching still haunts me. Hair began to grow all across me and I began moving faster. I could hear the panic and fear in Davidson’s voice, almost as if he knew what the creatures were and what was happening to me. Eventually, I caught up to Davidson and memories I couldn’t recall rushed my mind. Everything became a blur as I felt a mixture of rage, pain, and sorrow. The last thing I felt was iron followed by solid bone. From there, everything went dark.

The sun rose the next day. There was no sign of Davidson, my squad, the Soviets, or the creatures. The only sign of what happened was the stains of blood and what I can only describe as claw marks alongside bullet holes. I was found by a second squad patrolling the area. I was question about what happened. I could barely get the words out. The incident was covered up and the official headlines claimed my squad was killed by a bear. But I knew what happened and it was no bear attack. Upon being discharged, I return to my home providence in Brooklyn and decided to pay a visit. I entered the nearby cemetery and pulled a photo from the left pocket of my jacket, a photo of my son. There’s not a single day where I don’t yearn to hold him once more. One day, I’ll be reunited with my son. For now, I must figure out what the higher ups are hiding and their connection to the creatures. For all I know, I am one of these creatures. If I don’t return, know that I run with the wolves.