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Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
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A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to. |
| I wasn’t around for Kris or Sean’s bit of this involvement. I was trying to make my way towards the mansion while they were pulling the bodies out of that SUV that was still running. The mansion was designed to look like a standard middle class American home but on steroids. As if the folks who grow these pop-up neighborhoods from the seeds they plant them from had given it just a bit too much Miracle Grow and let the water run just a tad too long. Standard roof at the top with an Apex and three windows facing towards traffic. Lights were on inside. They had security lights running outside as well. From the dark, I think it the exterior was that red dark brick? But honestly, it could have had a mural of Fat Elvis eating a bean burrito for all I could see out there in the dark. I did see the shadows of trees carefully placed on the lawn. The large four car garage doors were open, with twin pairs of eyes shining at us in the darkness. I did see Cecily, Killian, and Mitch in the briefest of glimpses, then they were gone, racing up the hill. Behind me the SUV had started its movement towards the garage. I heard the front door clang open, a few snarls and nips. Those eyes in the garage disappeared. Then…silence. Followed by a lone howl in the night, one that chilled my blood. But fear wasn’t a luxury that any of us then could afford. So, I took that fear and the anger I felt and shoved it in a box, taped it up tight, and placed it on a shelf in my brain. I’d have the luxury of feeling pain, fear, anger, shame and regret later. Now was time for action. I checked my magazine. I had a few shots left. Two to be exact, with one in the chamber. Hopefully it would be enough. With a glance over my shoulder, I could see Zack, for his part was doing his best. Grim faced, fearful, yet moving forward. Donte was covering the rear like a professional, ensuring there was no one coming upon us from behind. For a moment we felt like a functioning team. Clearing a building as a well-oiled military machine takes time, practice, and A LOT of hours of learning how to move around objects like furniture, interior structures like walls, windows and doorways without accidentally killing each other. Military units will practice that for days, sometimes weeks. We had the time it took us from getting across the street and to the front door to get it right. We didn’t. Which is why I wanted to start out by pointing out how brave everyone was. How much danger we were all in. How out of his element Zack was, a guy more suited to holding a game controller than a pistol, and how unpracticed, unoiled, and unmachined like we were. Cause despite all the mistakes we made, the amateur moves that was done which may have endangered all of our lives, despite deep down knowing that we could be and probably would be killed, and a good chance by each other on accident, we kept moving forward. Especially those two who hadn’t practiced this on a daily basis for weeks on end before in their previous occupation. Cause, after all, when I was in training to clear buildings and doing all the military training for that function, I fell inside the doorway of my first building too. Though, I was the last guy in, not the first guy, and so I didn’t have anyone trip over me. It is an honest to goodness miracle that we didn’t kill each other right then and there. “Watch where you’re going,” Donte snarled as he picked himself up off the floor. Zack apologized, ducking his head sheepishly as he stood up as quick as he could. I rolled my eyes and for once bit my tongue. What can I say? I can learn things. Sure, it may take something everyone getting kidnapped for it to happen, but I can learn. The first room we entered was a large hallway of some kind. There was a sweeping staircase that had blood running down its steps and the body of a half-formed creature of some kind at the bottom of it. It was a were-something at one point; right then it was a dead were-something. We walked past the stairs looking for the entrance to the basement, where everyone was supposed to be. I walked past a door in the hallway running past the stairs, and kept going. Zack came up behind me, looked at the door he said, then looked forward and started moving again. It was then the door exploded outwards, splintering off its hinges beneath the weight of the beast. It leaped towards Zack, who couldn’t bring his pistol up fast enough. The first shot went wild. Second shot into the floor. And then with a glint in the light the pistol was flying down the hallway. Donte fired a shot, but since his bullets didn’t have silver, the werewolf ignored him. He fired a second, and the creature brought its head up. Its teeth glistened in the light. If it wanted to, it could have ripped Zack’s poor head right off. And then I could tell it wanted to. I raised my pistol and fired. The carnage…well there was carnage that splattered. Everyone. That’s what I’ll say. The rest of it and how much I’ll let your imagination do the talking. The body collapsed on Zack, pinning him to the floor. It was a struggle, but after we got Zack up, he patted himself down real quick, sighed and said, “I’m good, lets go.” Then on we moved. Thankfully, the pistol flew just a few feet before landing next to a crushed coffee table. We were navigating at that moment by pure logic. Given the stairwell pointed upwards, perhaps the door furthest down the hallway would lead downward. It was our first guess, and thankfully the correct one. My hand pressed against the door handle. I took a deep breath, and opened it. Slowly, but surely, we began making our way down the stairs. Up from the basement snarls. Growls. And..words. I could hear words. “You just don’t understand what we’re trying to…” Then Crash’s distinct voice. “I understand completely what you’re doing, you son of a bitch.” I knew his voice. Roam’s voice too. There was a snarl of some sort. And…Tanika? We ran head long down the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. The stairs opened up into a finished basement of sorts. Silver plated bars on guilded cages held Crash in one side, and Roam and Tanika on the other. These bars weren’t thick. They were thin. So thin that if anyone attempted to, they could bend or break them. However, not without their strange triangular twisting shapes cutting into your flesh, which was the point. Silver is poisonous to a werewolf after all if it gets in their blood. The rest of the basement was bare concrete and fluorescent lights, like it was ripped from a hospital’s basement in the eighties. There he was, in his silver furred glory with a dark streak of black down his back. Verner. The one who had done all of this. “And you,” he snarled at me. “I try to save you, and this is the thanks I get?! I really should let that drug addict vamp trash finish the job.” “Dad! Mom!” I knew better than to turn my head and look, but in the corner of my eye I could see Donte moving towards the cages. He’d get them out, I was sure. Verner turned and snarled at him; I fired a single shot. “Next one goes in you,” I said. He turned and growled at me, low and vicious in his throat. His lip curled up, showing every tooth he had in his skull. I had one shot left. “Try it,” I grinned. “I’ll cure all your ills.” Okay, so I stole that line. So, shoot me. Verner leaped. I felt the thump almost before I saw it. Then I against the floor. This creature snarled above me ready for the kill. It raised it’s right hand up, dark deadly claws ready to end my life. My next moves were instinctive, from years of military training. First step is to create space. I raised my knee, and caught him in the groin. The creature yelped and lifted half an inch. It was more than enough. I pressed upward with my right hand, moving my pistol. I wasn’t watching what I was shooting. I just pulled the trigger. The bullet moved upward, drawing a straight line from almost near his hip over his chest and through the creature’s forearm. I heard a yelp I’ve never heard before in my life. One born of pain and sudden desperation. I rolled over onto my hand and knees, in time to see the werewolf raise his bleeding, oozing arm to his maw. He pressed the elbow at the joint to his open jaws and bit down, severing the forearm completely. It dropped onto the stone floor. He loped up the steps and was gone. *** It took us hours to get home. Not much was said between anyone the entire time, even me. Having been through similar things in my previous occupation working for everyone’s least favorite rich uncle, I knew better than to try and talk or joke with people in this state. Crash sat in the back, wearing a simple set of shorts and a very sour look on his face. He watched the scenery move by the SUV’s window as we finally pulled into our house. “I need a vacation,” he grumbled. “We all do,” Zack muttered. “Been there. Nothing but sandy beaches for miles and miles. No waves though, no water. Nothing to do but shoot at people. Overrated. One star, would not go back,” I grumbled. Zack gave me a strange look, then asked, “did you just yelp review one of your deployments?” I shrugged. Everyone in the car began to giggle a little. Everyone but Crash. I get the feeling that they used to wonder why I never talked about the other stuff. Why I never really wrote or told about what had happened. Everyone was too polite to ask of course, but after this brief but tragic adventure, I get the feeling that none of them will wonder anymore. Of course, I’ll know. I’ll know why Zack is up three hours after he long should have gone to bed playing Call of Duty or some space ranger death game. I’ll know why Sean and Kris grumble and become stand offish at times; why when they hear certain sounds, they’ll get tense. Or wish to drink something stronger than soda. Crash will too. We’ll do what we can for them. We’ll just be there when they need us. This time, though, I won’t offer my stupid cliché advice or asinine jokes. I’ll just listen. The SUV pulled into the house at about five after six. Cecily was standing on the front lawn waiting for us when we pulled in. I watched her face go from strained worry to relief as everyone began to pull in. The sun had finally started to rise. When I got out of the car, I looked towards it. “Horrible night,” I said. “But it’s going to be a good morning.” "Thank God you're still alive," she sighed. "Is everyone behind you?" Crash nodded to her as he patted me on the back. Roam and Tanika pulled up in Donte’s car. Donte got out and of course was all smiles. “Well, it’s been years, but I’m so glad that finally we can,” he began. Crash turned towards Roam, and snarled at him. “This makes up for nothing. You have thirty minutes to get your crap and get out of here.” Zack, Kris, Sean, Donte, Cecily and I all stood around staring at each other, a bit shocked. “I did not think it would,” Roam said finally. “We will be gone in ten.” Kris of all people looked at Crash, then at Roam. “What the hell happened?!” Roam’s shoulders fell. “It is not my tale to tell. But I will say that I do not blame him.” I thanked Roam and gave him a hand shake. Which turned into a hug. Which Tanika turned into a group hug. Which Donte joined in on. Then Cecily. Finally, Kris, Zack and Sean all joined in. Which started to get a little awkward if I’m going to be completely honest. They did promise to read this blog when they got a chance, so hello guys. Hope everything is still going well with you. When our little hug therapy session ended, we said our final goodbyes, and they were gone. Heading back to whatever area the Rodriguez pack had come from. Zack, Kris, Sean and myself all saw them off. Crash, of course, was already inside. I walked up the hill in front of our old home, and climbed up the steps onto the porch. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Crash said from the darkness. I could tell he was staring out at the entrance to the woods. “Well, can we talk about what happened here then?” “You ruined a perfectly good plan. I’m pretty pissed at you, you know.” “Well,” I said, “go ahead. Let me have it. But I get my say in after.” “Do you know, this is my job? This is what I do for a living! I’m a functioning policing member of the county. I’m a representative to the ones you call the ‘mythical’ population and one of the few they can actually turn to when they need help. Who do you think the Hulderfolk turn to when they get a burglary? When a vampire gets murdered, who’s job is it to investigate? When the minotaurs have their weirdo festival they have in the spring and keep everyone else up, including the local humans, who do you think gets the call for that? Me. That’s who. Not you. But you keep getting involved, you keep interfering, and damn it, you’re starting to get in my way!” He paused for a moment, then looked back towards the woods. After the silence began to grow between us like a rift, I said, “are you done?” “No! But yeah.” Classic Crash. “How the hell am I supposed to know what the plan is if you don’t tell me anything.” Crash looked as if I had slapped him. “What?” “You heard me. How am I supposed to know what the plan is if you don’t tell me anything. You know what my last job was? I was in the military. Got pretty high up there, too. And yes, it was a lot of ‘right place, right time, right uniform, right attitude,’ that got me there, but it was also the fact that I learned! Particularly to adapt and over come in any situation, as you’ve just had a first hand of witnessing. “In my last job, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE that was involved with a plan knew the entire plan and what their part in it was. This was so if something went wrong, they could improvise, and make damn sure that the mission, whatever it was, was accomplished. My job was not, and never had it ever been to ‘shut up and follow orders’.” Crash didn’t respond, he kept staring into the woods, as if he longed to be there. “We all bring something different here. Zack is the glue that holds everything together. Kris and Sean, they’re the quirky ones who give us someone to talk to about something that’s not weirdo werewolf shit. They help with the techno babble that goes over all our heads. Me? I’m the security guy. I’m going to make damn sure everyone is safe and comes home. And you, you’re our fucking Alpha. You’re the werewolf we all love and want to make sure is safe and sound. Security guy can’t do his security guy things if you’re not telling him the fucking plan! Why do you think I’m always doing so many crazy things around here? I’m constantly just throwing pasta against the walls trying to see what sticks.” Crash sighed. “Sean is right, dude. You never shut up,” he said with a grin. “Gah,” I cried turning around for a moment, clenching my fists. He stood and patted me on the shoulder. “I guess I understand,” he said. “I’m not asking to be involved in the day-to-day of your job. But if there’s a plan of some kind that involves me, I need to know the entire thing, not one tiny part. I need the tools to improvise. Or I will just improvise.” “I’ll think about it. I’ll have to run this by my boss first, of course.” I nodded. “Do what you need to. But if there’s a plan and I’m going to be involved, I need to know the whole plan! You’re Alpha. I need to know where I’m marching and what to do when I get there.” “Things will get even weirder if he goes for this. Just so you know.” Then I said perhaps the dumbest statement I’ve said all week. “There’s a meth headed vampire who wants me dead. A homicidal lawn gnome who keeps fiddling with my car. And now that batshit crazy one-armed werewolf. How much weirder can things get?” You’d think I’d learn by now that God, the universe, or what ever strange creature that runs all of this would take that statement as a challenge. Some lessons I’ll never learn, I guess. “You want me to get you a beer or something,” I asked as I began to leave the porch. “Nah,” he said. “I think I’m going to just go running.” I knew what that meant. “Well, it’s supposed to be Zack’s night cooking, but I figure we’ll probably just eat out. Taco’s good for you?” Crash grinned. “You read my mind,” he said, and walked towards his bedroom. I walked towards the shower. I knew before I got the water warm, he had already shifted and was gone. We’d see him again soon, though. Perhaps Mitch met him out there, if he didn’t have a shift at his fast-food job that is. They could run through the woods and complain about us whiny humans while doing whatever it is werewolves do when they get together like that. I just hope they don’t scare any hikers. Again. |
| Some things are ingrained into you. A fast-food worker maybe ingrained to ask you to supersize your meal or say “have a nice day”. A police officer maybe ingrained to put their hand on their pistol when they approach a vehicle. When Donte collided with that wall of muscle and white fur, he was ingrained to get space and defend himself. He stepped back and tried to bring the pistol up. “Stop that, Donte,” the werewolf growled. “What,” he asked. “I’m Mitch. Eleanor sent me. Cicely and Killian are right behind me. We got to work fast.” Mitch didn’t wait. He turned, his fur almost shimmering in the light. His ears were flattened against his skull in what Donte perceived to be anger. “Why,” he asked. “Cause those two shots just told everyone you’re here,” he snarled. He looked upwards towards the bones of the houses to be built. His ear cocked as if listening to something for a moment. “Hang on.” With that, Mitch threw Donte over one shoulder and jumped out of the road towards the wall surrounding the perimeter. *** I heard the gunshots from where I was in the basement. But I didn’t hear them well. However, I know pistol shots when I hear them. Verner was grinning over me, in his underwear model million-dollar smile one moment, then racing up the stairs immediately after. It’s here that I must clarify a few things. First, the plan that me, Roam and Tanika had come up with never involved gun shots. So, when I heard those pistol shots going off, it was quite a shock to me too. I had no idea what to think. Had the gnomes come back to finish the job? Maybe a certain redneck vampire hellbent on revenge had finally found me? Who knows? I certainly didn’t. When Verner raced up the stairs, I started jumping my chair to get a better view of the stairs themselves. There was only two small basement windows after all, the small square kind that older houses with basements seem to have an abundance of, a bunch of dust, and of course those shelves I mentioned a while ago. Kris, Sean, Zack, nor myself had much in the way of anything there to see. Silence from upstairs. Then a lone howl rang out. Followed by another. Then a third. Snarls, like something pissed off a pack of dogs. Finally, the basement window near the stairs opened, and someone slid inside. As he stood, I could see he had a familiar face. “Donte!” I smiled. “Am I glad to see you. Quick, untie us.” He pulled a knife out of his back pocket and quickly cut through my binds first, then handed me his pistol. I watched the stair well as he went around, freeing everyone. “Mitch is a trip,” he said. “Thinks he’s going to take on an entire pack of werewolves alone, pretty much.” “Great, we got to rescue him then,” I asked. “Oh no,” Donte said, “we ain’t doing shit to a pack of werewolves. We are climbing into the dead guy’s SUV out there, driving out of this crazy place, and waiting on the cops to take us home. Mitch’s orders.” “Well,” I grinned, “I’ve never been good at following those. Got an article 15 to prove it.” When Zack was free, he lined up behind me. “You’re going after Crash, aren’t you?” “Yes,” I replied. “And you’re lining up behind me like Call of Duty? Really?” “What,” he said. “This isn’t the way you do this?” I gave him a light shove, “not in the middle of the room, back up.” With a deep heaving breath, I looked back at everyone. “Keep close. Watch your blind spots. Move fast from cover to cover. We’re literally walking into a fight up there and going straight out the front door. There is no alternatives. Outside or die. Do you understand?” There were no questions. I swallowed, and walked slowly towards the stair well. We could hear snarls, growls, a groan of pain that sounded half human, half monster. A loud thump as if a body fell to the floor. I waved everyone up to me, took a breath, walked up the stairs and opened the door. It opened onto a hallway. A snarling pair of eyes glared down upon me, and sprinted towards me. It was automatic. Pistol up. Two quick shots. The monster fell at my feet, grasping his shoulder, and whimpering in pain at how it burned. A hole in his chest began to smoke. I didn’t stick around to watch him die. I took a left, to what I hoped was the nearest door. We stepped into a living room of sorts. There was an old couch on the corner. A flat screen television was laying on its side, smoking. The body of a werewolf laid out beneath it, missing a head. We took two steps forward towards another door. Movement to my left caused me to pause. My pistol was already on the creature that flew through the doorway, tracking it as it collided with the far wall, and fell to the couch below. Another creature landed on it. This one all in silver and white. I recognized Mitch. I knew better than to say his name or distract him from the very necessary work he was doing then. Holding a finger to my mouth to silence everyone, I waved us forward. We stepped to our left into a dining room of some sorts. A collapsed table laid on the floor. There were no chairs around it. I get the feeling that the chairs were all downstairs holding us for who knows how long. Twin eyes glinted in the dark. I could only see the two eyes, and see the massive glistening teeth. “I’m going to tear you all apart,” the creature growled. “I will feast on…” It didn’t get to finish. My pistol flashed twice. I heard gurgling. Gasping. Then heard thunk as it fell to the floor. My training kicked in. I stepped towards the body, and shoved it once with my foot, holding my pistol on it at all times. Nothing. Turning, I saw something silver glint on the floor. “About damn time,” I smiled, picking up my pistol. I checked the chamber. Still silver. “Feels full,” I said. “Here someone. Barrel looks clear.” Someone took it. I figured it would have been Donte to be honest. We stepped around towards the far wall. Door was blocked. “Shit,” I snarled. Then moved us right, pushing towards a Kitchen area. A werewolf I recognized as Cecily from earlier, leaped over us, then kicked the window out. “Get out,” she snarled. Well, you didn’t have to tell me twice. We moved towards the window, and I looked back. Still had everyone. Donte, Kris, Sean, and Zack who was holding my pistol. Well, I didn’t have time to argue now. Though, I’d have preferred it to be Donte holding it. It appeared that the drop out of the window was about three feet. It sloped downward on a green lawn towards the wall. “Go to the wall and hold,” I said, “We meet there. Then we’ll discuss where to go next.” I handed Donte the pistol I was carrying, and grabbed Kris, and helped him out of the window. Then it was Sean’s turn. As I was helping Donte down a pistol behind me fired twice. Looking, I saw Zack with a grim look of triumph on his face. “Bastard,” he snarled. I glanced down. It was another werewolf. “He was the one who grabbed me.” “Okay,” I replied. “It’s your turn though.” After Zack was through the window, it was my turn. I sprinted, making my way towards the wall. Everyone looked towards me. I guess it’s only natural. I was the only one who had been through anything similar to this. “Donte,” I asked, “do you have any transportation here?” “My car’s outside,” he said. “Oh, and there’s the SUV I followed in here. You have to dump the bodies out of it.” “Kris, Sean are you two okay with handling that?” They both nodded. “Okay, so where is Crash being held?” They’re in the Mansion. Basement,” Donte said. “Okay,” I replied, “then Donte, that’s where me and you are going.” “And me.” Zack had a look of expectation on his face. I’ve seen it on soldiers plenty of times. He was in it now. “Okay Call of Duty,” I said, “You stay between me and Donte. Kris, Sean?” “We’ll get the SUV up to the house,” Kris said. “Okay, we got a plan. Kris, you and Sean stay in the SUV afterwards. Wait for us. If you don’t see us come out, you floor it and get out of here. Okay?” They both nodded their consent. I turned, and saw Mitch staring down at me, still in wolf form. Despite some of the gore that now covered him, he still looked silver and white in the moonlight, an image that will stick with me somehow perhaps for the rest of my life. “You’re going to assault the mansion,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “I can’t abandon my friend,” I replied. “We can’t abandon family,” Zack said. “Okay then,” he growled, “Get to the Mansion as fast as you can then. Me, Cecily and Killian will clear the way for you.” Clear the way. I knew what that meant. I could see on Donte’s face he knew what that meant. Zack, Kris and Sean only had an inkling of an idea of what that meant. “You heard the werewolf,” I said. “Let’s go.” |
| This would look like a well thought out competent plan if you glanced at it on the surface. Every step taken seemed as if it was a methodic point on a well-drawn map that perhaps Kevin McCallister had painstakingly done in crayon just before the Wet Bandits arrive to rob his house. But that wouldn’t be the fear induced, knee jerk reality of the situation that Donte had been dealt. In truth, some people don’t think in these situations; they just leap to the next rock in the brook and hope they land without getting wet. Donte is one of those people. All the thinking is done in the air after the leap, and not necessarily pre-calculated. Not to say that this is bad, it works for him after all. Usually. His first idea was to go to the address that was given in the box the human heart had been delivered in. The simple grain store house out near the edge of the county. By now there was police lights all over it, crime scene tape and several detectives who were standing a corner “having a coffee break” according to Donte. He didn’t even slow down when he saw it, just drove on by trying his best to look like he was late for work. As he drove down the road, glancing in his rear view every few seconds or so to ensure that he hadn’t alerted anyone to his presence, he made a call to Eleanor. “What’d ya get?” “A bunch of cops and an old building surrounded by trees. No way I’m getting in there to snoop around without a badge. Could you send me a pin of where the signals died at?” Keys clattered in the background. “Should get it now,” she replied. “Since I have you on the line, is there any way you can give me the names and locations of everyone who was within a one block radius of this place at that time?” Donte put as big of a smile in his voice as he could, hoping that Eleanor would come back with ‘too easy, give me a bigger challenge.’ Instead, he got ‘Sure! Let me just wave my magic wand. How about a pot of gold while I’m at it? That would be impossible. Well, not technically impossible, but improbable and let’s just say it would take a team several days to retrieve those kinds of results. Plus, we’d need to get inside the phone company itself, not to mention have someone inside the government to,” “Okay, okay! I’m sorry I asked, jeez. Is there a way then to hack into the phone of someone who maybe was there? Perhaps see where they’ve been?” “Perhaps,” she said. “They’ll need to have their blue tooth on, and I need you to get your phone close for a bit. Say, thirty seconds should do the trick.” “Challenge accepted,” he said. “But make sure they’re not looking at their phone,” Eleanor replied. “Already said challenge accepted,” Donte smiled. “Trust me.” Then hung up. The distance between the two locations took Donte some time. He said it was another ‘tiny Midwest town’, the ‘kind you’d see Andy walking along with a fishing pole in’. So, for the purpose of this blog, we’ll say the kind of place that has a fast-food avenue, a few stop lights, maybe a movie theatre or an old drive-in rotting away on the outskirts somewhere. When you have enough experience, you can begin to see werewolves and vampires mixed among the general population. Donte, having spent most of his life living with the Rodriguez family, could spot a werewolf blind drunk on a cold dark night, so to speak. So, it wasn’t hard for him to see one at a hardware store, another at a local fast-food place (no not Mitch), nor another pair sitting nearby in a Wal-Mart at the end of the parking lot, like they were waiting for someone. The ones at the Wal-Mart were who Donte went for cause, according to him, ‘They were the only ones driving those expensive SUVs. Everything else was normal boring cars.’ They appeared to be wearing suits, and after all, who but ‘The Nobility’ or the Feds ever wear a suit around in Small Town USA. He took a deep breath, then exhaled it to calm his nerves and called Eleanor. When he was within earshot of the vehicle, he started talking. “I told you those GPS things don’t work for me,” he grumbled, then walked over to the vehicle. He stepped up on the curb, leaned into the vehicle hanging his phone down, and smiled at the guy driving. “Could you get me to the interstate? My girl is pissed at me, and,” A pistol flashed in his face. Donte threw up his hands, shouting “Woah! It don’t need to be like that now,” making sure to drop his phone in the guy’s lap. The guy began to roll up the window. He stuck his hand inside, “Hey, let me get my phone back at least, come on now!” The door opened, and the guy stepped out, still holding the pistol. Donte smiled wide, “Wow, you’re big,” he said almost subconsciously. “Look, all I want is the interstate, or at least my phone.” The big guy pointed down the road, “Keep going. Take a left at the light, Donte” he growled and threw Donte’s phone back at him. “If I catch you snooping around again, I’m going to forget you’re human.” He then stepped back into the car and slammed the door hard enough to rock the vehicle. Donte walked back to his car, took two deep breaths, then put his phone to his ear. “Tell me you got it.” Eleanor smiled through the phone, “Too easy. And the interstate? Really Donte? He made you in thirty seconds.” “Well, you said you only needed thirty seconds, you got thirty seconds,” he smiled back. Keys clattered in the background for a second. “Okay he’s got two locations saved on the phone. You’re getting both,” she hummed, “And one of these is a restaurant….” Another hum… “And the other is, well, it’s the place.” Donte’s smile grew wider as he pulled away from the Wal-Mart, “You sound so certain.” “Trust me, when you see it, you’ll see why I’m certain.” The address Eleanor sent him, as well as the satellite pics she got from the internet were of a property just on the other side of that county. An elaborate sprawling gated community type place that was under construction. A wall had been built around it. A large sprawling new home, and according to Donte ‘this old one that Crash would love’. The kind that seemed like it wouldn’t be out of place in a black and white monster movie. He drove around it, only seeing the skeletal frames of a few homes peaking above the wall and the show house from the gate. There was a forest nearby, but a good bit of it had been cleared away to make way for the wall, leaving an open space of twenty feet or so around the entire complex. And it was a complex. “Looked like Batman lived there,” Donte would tell me later. “I could have tried to climb the wall I guess, but I’m not Batman.” So, instead he pulled off the shoulder of the road, in his car, and began examining the pictures Eleanor sent over when his phone rang. “Get off the highway now,” Eleanor shouted. “Why,” Donte asked, climbing back into his car. “The blunder twins are heading your way.” He drove on by down a side road, and parked it away from the gate. Then slowly began making his way towards it, walking along the side of the wall. It was dark by then, the sun setting in the distance, cast enough of a shadow to hide his form. By the time he got to the gate, it was already closing. He raced inside, pulling his pistol from his harness and crouched low, holding it in the low ready position as he came upon the vehicle in the driver’s blind spot. Crouched low, he moved as quickly as he could around the vehicle and popped up at the driver’s door. The pistol barked in Donte’s hand. He caught the driver by surprise snapping his head snapped back and to the side. The passenger snarled the word “mongrel” as he started raising his own pistol. Donte brought his pistol down on him, firing once more. The passenger’s head snapped back, then fell back into the seat. The driver’s body slumped forward, causing the horn to shout for a moment before Donte shoved him to the side. “Shit, Donte. Out in the open, too.” He snarled. Staring at the carnage, for a moment, he looked around. No one at the house was coming out. No one at the old house was coming out either. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back colliding into a wall of muscle and fur. The silver fur glistened almost in the dying light. So did the creature’s fangs. “Shit,” Donte growled, staring up at him. |
| Now, Sean is an easy guy to paint as an idiot surfer dude. The type of guy who just has endless sandy beaches and eternal waves running through his mind, who never has a worry or care other than getting back out on the water one more time. In truth however, a laid-back attitude does not necessarily mean a blithering idiot. He does care about things. His attitude is, however, that things just don’t get better with rage. Sean had been driving, to quote him “with blind panic, dude”. The gas pedal to the floor, white knuckles on the steering wheel, with fervent prayers going up to whatever deity maybe listening at the time. His car wasn’t a sports car, or even a sedan. Still, the small cross-over, that wouldn’t be amiss with a pair of surf boards on it if I’m being honest, was doing speeds around corners and down straight aways that Sean had never done in that vehicle before or since. The address given was an old grain store house on the edge of the county that looked like it hadn’t been in operation since the nineties. A simple, rusty metal building with a metal silo sitting outside of it designed to feed into semi-trailers that have long since abandoned its use. Sean didn’t see much he said. “I didn’t exactly examine it’s architecture,” he told me later. Which, I understand. Although I didn’t go inside it, I have seen it from the exterior as I drove past it later, granny slow, in my granny mobile. And I can confirm, it did look like the set of a cheap nineties action flick on the outside. All that was missing was Billy Zane running around in purple spandex. He parked his car in front, jumped out, and sprinted inside as quick as he could. A single body lay on the cracked and dirty concrete floor beneath a single light. Sean raced towards it. Rolled it over and… It wasn’t Kris. It looked to be just some older guy that Sean had never seen before. To quote him, “grey hair and everything, dude”. And that was when he was hit from behind and knocked unconscious. *** Eleanor tried calling everyone directly and got nothing. She tried the trackers on their vehicles, and it revealed nothing. Through the magic of, well, some techno wizardry that I didn’t understand but Eleanor tried to explain to me later, everyone appeared to be sitting in mainland China. “Donte,” she said, “they’re gone. I mean, literally gone.” “Where were they last,” he said, stepping towards the door. “I’ll drop you a pin. But what will you do if you get in trouble,” Eleanor asked. He looked at her face, at the nervous way she rubbed her hands together, and gave her the biggest smile he could. “It’s me,” he said. “I can talk my way out of anything.” “Don’t,” Eleanor replied. “Just do it with silver.” Donte nodded and grinned wider, “I got this. Don’t worry!” Then left. *** Plain stone walls and chipped paint greeted me when I woke up. If I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn it was our basement with how similar everything looked. Dusty old shelves, grungy corners, same sad steps leading down into it. There wasn’t much on the shelves and I doubted that whatever house we were in had been used for much in a long while. Zack sat over next to the stairs; Kris next to him. We were all tied to some old chairs that looked to have been taken from an old dining room table. “This is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” Kris said, with a half-grin. I, of course, mis-interpreted it. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Just…sorry. For well…everything.” “Will you stop it,” he said. “This is not your fault. They’re the assholes who attacked us. We did nothing to them. We lived our lives and they invaded our homes. They kidnapped us for existing. This is NOT your fault!” “But,” I said, “I thought you were mad at me. And the blog?” “I’m mad at everyone, that’s my nature. Product of my lovely upbringing. And your blog? Who cares! If they’re attacking people because they wrote bad words on the internet then these idiots are just crazy anyway.” What can I say? It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it got the job done. It did make me smile. After a while the door upstairs opened up, and Helena and Christopher Dylan came down, dragging Sean in, kicking and screaming the whole way. The photos I saw didn’t do them much justice. Helena’s brown hair looked mussed up as if she’d been wrestling with a child. She had a scowl on her face. Behind her was her husband Chris, looking less like a sleaze bag presidential candidate and more like the sleaze bag reporter covering for the candidate. They barely said a word to us, and I was uncharacteristically quiet at that moment. Sean was struggling and fighting, well as much as a guy being lifted a foot and a half off the ground could, anyway. When he spotted Kris, he shouted his name, pain in his voice. “Sean,” Kris asked, more surprised than anything. “What the fuck happened?!” “Quiet,” Helena said, glaring at him. “Or We’ll rip off his limbs in front of you.” As they tied Sean to a chair near us, Sean and Kris looked at each other. Kris with hurt, Sean with tempered relief. Eventually they left, and Sean and Kris stared at each other for a long time before Kris finally said, “What the hell happened?” “They sent a heart in a box. Thought it was yours,” Sean muttered. “That’s fucked up,” Zack said from his corner. “Well, to be fair, we never said who’s heart it was.” The sound of footsteps echoed through the basement as a figure walked down. He had blonde hair and the winning smile of a well-paid underwear model. “Verner Behring I presume,” I said. “Ah, my reputation proceeds me,” he replied. “And you’re Jason Forte. Your reputation proceeds you. Although you’re not as short as they claim.” A weak attempt at an insult. I shrugged and smiled in response. “Who?” Kris asked. “Leader of the American division for The Nobility, a werewolf extremist group who believes in the purity of the blood line or some such crap. Also the guys who hate my blog.” A dark look crossed Behring’s face for a moment. “First off, we’re the Werewolf Confederation, not ‘The Nobility’. That name is a mongrel insult. Second, what blog?” We looked at each other, confused. “Isn’t this because I drew attention to our group through my blog?” He laughed at that. Not a huge guffaw like the super villains do in the movies, but more of a ‘heh’. “No, we wouldn’t waste our time on such things. No, this is about the war.” “What war,” I asked, looking up at him. “You see, us werewolves are always at war. We’re the only things protecting you humans. We’re the creatures in the night that keep the other creatures at bay. You give us food and shelter; we give you security. That was the original deal made with my ancestors thousands of years ago. But you see, in the late nineteenth century there was a group of werewolves who grew tired of this conflict. They wanted to live peacefully, not kill the vermin like the trolls and vampires. To actually breed with you humans.” He made a face when he said that. I rolled my eyes. “You don’t like us. You’re above us. We get it.” “No, I don’t think you do,” he said, walking over towards me. “What your friend, the one you call ‘Crash’ is doing is unnatural. But we let it slide. His existence is an abomination. We let that slide. His family though owes a debt to the confederation. They owe a debt of blood. He is to be punished and replaced, so we can continue doing what we always do,” he held his head high for a moment, smiling wide, “protecting you from the real monsters. And from each other.” “Oh, come on, please for the love of God, stop already,” I said. “I’m sorry if the truth offends you,” Behring grinned. “Truth is, you’re going to lose.” “Why,” he asked, leaning closer to me. “We have all of you. Crash came once already and sacrificed himself at the merest hint of your danger. Do you not think he will come again?” I rolled my eyes. “You lack conviction.” “How,” he asked. “I once had an officer above me. He went to Afghanistan like the rest of us at the time. He thought he was God’s gift to the army. You know the type. Well, you should, you see him in the mirror every day.” Behring rolled his eyes at that. I continued. “He was determined to get a combat patch. So, we were to run a simple supply run. There were a few different routes to go, but he insisted we take the most dangerous route. And wouldn’t you know it, our convoy was attacked. So, with him crying in the back of the truck, the rest of us had to literally save his ass. When the convoy was over, and he reported it, he looked, well,” I nodded at him, “much like you. You see, you’re like him. That lieutenant who thought he was Captain America. When shit hits the fan, and it will, you’ll be cowering in the corner. You don’t have it in you to do the dirty work. You let ma and pa clem back there do everything because you can’t stand to get your little claws dirty you pathetic…” I think I remember telling you it’s a bad job to rant on a werewolf? Cause it is. Behring couldn’t roar as loud as Crash, especially in his human form, but he certainly screamed loud enough to hurt my ears. “What is wrong with you,” he asked. “Are you always like this?” Kris, Zack, and Sean all nodded at the same time. “Yeah, uh-huh,” they said. “Dude never shuts up,” Sean replied. “Aww, I love you guys too,” I said. Then grinned. “But really, I’m just stalling. I figure someone will be here in about,” Four small devices landed in my lap. The trackers that Eleanor had painstakingly installed on me. “Are you talking about that,” he asked, grinning. I looked down at them and sighed, “well shit.” Right there in that moment, I thought we were done. Of course, if you think you’re beaten grin wider. That’s something I’ve learned. If your opponent has hit you with everything they have, don’t sit down between rounds. So, I didn’t. I just smiled, and tried to think of any way I could make things as bad or worse for them through this. As for Donte, he’s is a clever guy. One of the cleverest guys I’ve ever ran into. And If it wasn’t for him, then most of this would probably have had a much different outcome. So, Donte, if you’re reading this, thank you. Though, we’ll still argue about your taste in movies sometime. |
| Cecily and Killian had the perfect banter of brother and sister. Inside jokes. Strange werewolf jokes and innuendo that I won’t be putting in this blog. The sorts of things that shows the close ties of a brother and sister who are used to working and fighting together. So, of course I got along great with them almost from the start. After all, a soldier recognizes a fellow soldier, regardless of what war they’ve fought in. “So, remember,” Cecily said, “You won’t see us. But that’s okay, cause we’ll see you.” “So,” I replied, “Just don’t be afraid of the two over grown dogs stalking me through the day as I run my errands and try to get kidnapped by other overgrown dogs. Gotcha.” Killian placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, “You know,” he said, growling a bit, “some werewolves might take offense to being called a dog.” “Oh, come on,” I said, trying not to wince at the strength of his grip. “It’s a term of endearment. Besides, it’s not like I called you mutts,” I dragged the word out and chuckled as Cecily leaned forward and smirked, “that would be bad for you. Perhaps we’d be a little late in our intrepid rescue, hmm?” “Do that,” I smiled, “And Crash may get mad.” It was like I poured ice water on our light teasing. A tenseness grew in the room, and Killian removed his hand from my shoulder, turning to work on a backpack of sorts. We were standing in the living room prepping for my first round of “errands.” It was to be a simple thing. Go out a few places, ask around about Crash and Zack and Kris. In general, make myself as exposed as possible without looking like bait, to which there is an actual art form to it. We had been teasing all morning through this. I didn’t expect my small joke to have such an impact. “What,” I asked. “What happened?” After a heavy sigh, Cecily said “Let’s just say that we owe Crash. Especially dad. We owe him a lot more than this. More than that, it is not our tale to tell, unfortunately. Perhaps Crash will relay it to you one day.” I nodded. There was a sense of something there. A loss of sorts that felt as if it was cavernous enough to lose more than just a friendship in. But I kept my suspicions and wonders to myself for a change. Even I could feel that it wasn’t the time for digging where I wasn’t wanted. The plan was simple. It was something Roam, Tanika and I had been cooking up since they arrived. I go out, make myself as available to kidnap as possible. They would monitor my movements: Cecily and Killian from somewhere close by, while Donte and Eleanor monitor my trackers with Sean from the house. This plan we had created a few hours after everyone had arrived, giving the crew and us time to try and rest some after essentially being up almost a full day. So, after resting a day, and prepping and prepping and prepping again, checking equipment three and four times (at my behest, to be honest) I went out and did my best to try and be the most attractive bait I could possibly be. Which is to say, I ran errands. Talked about Crash. Asked about our missing roommates. And moved on. Bought food, went to the bar (something I’m not sure I’ve ever done before in this small place), and was seemingly ignored by just about everyone as I did so. It’s a good thing the trackers were small. A thin one in my shoe that had a small battery and antenna so everyone could see my GPS location. A small one in my belt buckle. And of course, my smart watch. The days of taping wire and microphones to people have been gone since the nineties thank God. But still I felt naked, exposed somewhat. You always do during these things. But it’s a good type of naked exposure. The kind that keeps you a bit alert. Let’s you see things even I would normally over look. Like the old lady who kept opening the same app and closing it again on her phone while she stared at me through the reflection on the window in front of her in the donut shop. Or the guy pumping gas and talking to his friend, while casting glances in my direction. Of course, it could be paranoia. But a little paranoia in the business of being bait is healthy. After all, just because you’re paranoid, don’t mean they’re not after you. Killian and Cecily were excellent at their jobs. During the two days I wandered around, I never saw them once. Even though by the end of the second day, I was looking for them, seeing if I could see their dark hair, their olive skin, their smirking face amongst the people I was weaving through in the bank, at the post office, at the restaurant. Perhaps searching for a sense of that blanket that was protecting me from far away. But all I saw was nothing. Just more of the crowd. And more of those suspicious glances. When it finally happened, my paranoia had been sharpened to a fine razers edge. I expected to feel the stiff press of a weapon in my back. A growl of a threat in my ear. To be told to ‘act natural’. Or to simply be grabbed and thrown. Though when the white minivan pulled up next to me, I did feel my heartrate quicken. I was leaned over my trunk, setting a bag of groceries inside when it pulled up. They were smart. Let me unload all of my groceries. Let me close the trunk and put the cart away. Then the door opened. And something hit the back of my head. And everything went black. *** While I was under the ever-loving care of The Nobility, Donte and Eleanor was monitoring my progress at home. They could see my movements, going from the minivan to another vehicle, to a third and finally to a private residence on the outskirts of the county, out amongst the simple Amish folk that everyone leaves to their own devices. “Working like a charm,” Eleanor said. She sat on our couch where Zack would always sit playing his games, tapping away at her keyboard. “You trying to clear up the signal,” Sean asked, leaning over Eleanor’s shoulder. He held a mug of coffee in his hand that trembled a bit with nerves as he spoke. He was never good with large groups of people, always leaving that part of things to Kris. “Oh no,” she said. “That program runs in the background. All I have to do is sit here and watch it, really. I’m readying another script, typing up something that will ring everyone and the authorities in order if need be. A big red panic button, so to speak.” “Oh,” he said, standing back up. “Is everyone settled,” Tanika asked. She was standing in the door way, dressed as if for battle with her hair pulled back in a pony tail. Though she had no visible weapons, one could never say a werewolf was ever unarmed. “Appears so,” Eleanor said. She tapped a couple of buttons on her cell phone. “Sent everyone a pin to where the cell signal stopped. I suspect Killian and Cecily are there already.” Tanika looked at Roam, fire in her eyes. “We should go.” Roam smiled, “Yes, Killian and Cecily aren’t likely to save any fun for us if we let them.” And then, like Sean later told me when he told me about all of this, they “like left, dude.” Donte, never one to let a good silence go to waste filled it with all sorts of conversations about movies, games, music, anything he could think of, really. It felt like hours, according to Sean. But really was probably only ten minutes later before there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Donte said, motioning to Sean. “You should still stay out of sight.” He disappeared through the front door, then came back holding a plain cardboard box. The top of it was open. Donte’s usual jovial look was gone. He looked down into the box with a vague look of shock and horror. “I don’t…” he muttered, “I just…” “What,” Sean asked as he stepped forward. He peered inside. Inside the box was a human heart, whole and intact. Next to the heart was a note that read “If you want the rest of him, come to this address.” “Kris!” He shouted, then sprinted for the door. “Wait!” Donte shouted. He tried to grab him, but Sean had the power of panic at his side and slipped from his grip. “Shit!” Eleanor shouted from the couch. “What?” He asked. “Our trackers. They just jumped four different locations and disappeared. Jason, Mom, Dad, Cecily and Killian. All gone.” She stared at the screen for a moment, then looked up at Donte. He began rubbing his head absent-mindedly as he paced. “And then there were none,” he said. “What are we going to do?” “I don’t know.” Eleanor said. “I honestly don’t know.” |
| Sean called in from work. They understood with his boyfriend / almost husband missing, that took priority over printing a few T-shirts. So, he hung back and waited with me as we both sat and stared at the television for the next three and a half hours. It was some Netflix documentary on spam or something. I’m not entirely sure. I know the director was trying to make some point about food, but all I remember of it was spam. When the headlights washed over the windows, me and Sean were already outside greeting the two vehicles that arrived: A smart looking late model cross-over SUV, and a Wrangler. I’m told by the individual who owns it that I’m not allowed to call the cross-over a station wagon in his presence. But since this is my blog, IT’S JUST A STATION WAGON! Both vehicles looked reasonably decked out for war, with the Cross-over having some crack running across its windshield. There’s a story there if I’ve ever heard one, but I didn’t ask. Sometimes it’s best to just not dive into these sorts of things. After a brief bit of pleasantries, we invited everyone inside with the usual exchange of niceties. The ‘hello, how are you’s’, so to speak. Introductions were saved for the front door. Cause though the werewolves could see just fine outside in the dim light, me and Sean were at a loss, so it waited until we could get a good look at them. The flood light outside had given the new party a sort of gloomy quality, one that didn’t quite relate to their mannerisms and cheerfulness when they pulled up. The two individuals in the modern glorified station wagon both had a Mediterranean complexion. Dark hair, smoldering eyes, the typical werewolf height and build on the guy. Both appeared to have that movie star, ‘I could be thirty or I could be sixty’ quality to them. The guy had a goatee with a bit of grey peppered through it, and silver streaks through his hair. The woman had a soft, strong muscular nature as well, that appeared as if she hit the weight bench more than the yoga class at the gym. But if I had to guess, I was willing to bet that she barely had to work out to keep that figure. “Hello,” she said, with a faint touch of Spanish in her voice. “I’m Tanika. This is my husband, Romero.” He smiled, and pulled a fedora off of his head. “Call me Roam,” he said. There was a touch of Spain in his voice as well. But not enough to say he came directly from the country. It was more of a ‘I used to live there before the Midwest claimed me’ sort of accent. “Just not Indy, huh,” I grinned. He grinned right back. “Well, I have his hat, but not his whip. So no, I’m not Indy today.” Tanika smiled, right back, patting her husband on the shoulder with tenderness, “perhaps I should get you that whip.” “Eww,” another woman said as she stepped through the door. “Could we not hear that, please?” She resembled Tanika in almost every way, though getting her father’s stronger chin. “We already hear too much from you on the other side of the property.” “Why, Cecily,” Roam said, “How can you say such a thing? Me and your mother, we close the doors, play the music.” A younger guy stepped through the door after Cecily, looking more like his father, with the goatee, only younger. “Yes dad,” he said, “that works for the strays but we’re werewolves too, remember? Turn the music up as loud as you want. We can still hear everything.” “Very funny, Killian,” Tanika said, rolling her eyes. Sean waved everyone through, pulling them into the living room. A taller black man followed behind, who appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties, and a shorter Scottish woman with fiery red hair. The black guy introduced himself as Donte’, and the woman as Eleanor. “We’re the strays,” he said with a grin. “Nice place! I like it, it’s got a sort of Addams Family vibe going on.” “Why thank you, Lurch,” I said, grinning back. Eleanor rolled her eyes, “forgive him,” she said, “he’s been dying to use that line ever since he saw photos of the place online.” “It’s alright,” I replied. “I know what that’s like.” I waved them through to the living room. “Donte’ we’ll have to have a conversation one day about my theory on where colored Easter eggs come from.” Sean’s eyes went wide. “No! Don’t!” He waved his arms frantically, shaking his head. “Seriously, dude. Don’t. My stomach can’t handle that again.” “All I’m saying! If you think about it,” I began. “Dude,” he said, “I still can’t eat Skittles because of that.” Donte’ smiled, “It’s all good. I don’t even like Skittles that much, anyway.” Sean shook his head. “Trust me.” “Anyway,” Eleanor said, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s time we got down to business.” “Right,” Roam said, jumping in. Everyone was seated in the living room at this point, with me and Sean standing near our respective corners. “You two, stay out of the way. Killian, you and Cecily go scouting. You know what to look for.” Roam pointed a finger at the two of us. “Do you two have anywhere you can go for the time being? Neighbors, friends?” “It’s his boyfriend who was stolen,” I replied, pointing at Sean. “And I’m not really one to back down from a fight.” “This isn’t some drunk guy in a bar, my friend,” Roam said. “This is a bit worse than that.” “I know,” I replied. “This is a group of werewolves who want to kill us. We’ve already had a bit of an encounter with them.” Roam gave me a sad little smile. “You got lucky,” he replied. “Normally, they would have shredded all of you for that little stunt. This, no. You will not survive this.” I shrugged. “I’ve gone through four tours overseas, blown up once. Had two fights with a lawn gnome, two different encounters with Hulderfolk. Helped catch and kill a meth-headed vampire. And went bobbing for apples with zombies, which I never want to do again. I think I’ll be okay.” Roam sighed. “Look,” he said, “I know you think that you can help. But you really will just get yourself killed. Eleanor, could you explain to our new friend hear why he’s being an idiot.” “For the record,” Sean said, “being an idiot? It’s kind of his thing.” I gave Sean a look. “What?” He said, “You’re the one who keeps getting involved in these things, not me.” Well, he does have a point about that. After a quick trip to the Wrangler that she and Donte’ arrived in, Eleanor came back inside with a backpack. “Here,” she said, pulling a tablet out. “This is who you’re dealing with.” The first image was of some underwear model or something. He had blonde hair, a perfectly chiseled chin, and was wearing a slim cut suit that looked to be both Italian, and expensive. “This is Verner Behring. He’s the head of the American arm of The Werewolf Confederation.” “Who,” I asked. “You know them as ‘The Nobility’,” she said. “It’s a derogatory term we started using here sometime after the war. I think you can guess why.” “Yeah, high and mighty, my ‘shit smells like roses’ types of individuals. The type of person who never feels like they should ever have to work hard in their entire life because they exist. That they were blessed by their deity with divine wisdom and it’s their goal in life to bear this divinity on us peasants. Yeah, I know the type.” Donte’ looked at me for a moment and chuckled, “damn you’re wordy.” “You know I’m right,” I replied. I didn’t get any audible comments, but I did get a few slight head nods. “He’s assisted by two generals,” Eleanor continued, pulling up another photo. This one was a smiling selfie of two individuals. “They’re husband and wife. The Dylan’s. The guy in the photo is Christopher. The woman is Helena.” The guy had dark hair, strong chin and an easy smile. He looked like the type of person who could be a good presidential candidate, but never president because they keep getting caught sleeping with all the secretaries. The woman had a practiced smile, brown hair and a smart haircut. She looked like the type who planned spontaneous vacations right down to how long you have to get in a pee break. “They look like the mob,” I said. “Kind of like that,” Donte’ replied. “They operate the same way. They don’t destroy the countryside or nothing. But they take ‘tribute’ from other werewolves and things. Will also kill and replace politicians and judges with their own if need be, to get something done.” “So,” I said, “they play 4-D chess.” “They think they do,” Donte said. “But they’re dangerous if you don’t know how to play them.” I began to pace the room. “Well,” I said, “It sounds like they’re the type of people who look down on guys like me. They hate me cause I won’t stay still, cause I won’t stick to my ‘own lane’ or my ‘own kind’.” “Baby, can you talk some sense into these guys, I’m going to bring in the stuff then help out the kids,” he kissed Tanika with practiced ease then stepped back outside. “Actually, you’re just annoying to them. It’s Crash they can’t stand,” she said. “Your blog just reminded them that him and his family are alive.” “Wait,” I said, turning to her. “Why are they pissed at Crash?” Tanika turned her head down, and crossed herself for a moment. “You’ll have to ask him,” she said “That tale of woe is not mine to tell. But they’d prefer if he was dead.” Sean clenched his fist hard when he heard that. “Will they, you know, hurt or,” “If Crash surrenders, your loved ones should be okay. But if he doesn’t, they’re not above harming them to get at Crash.” “Do you like, know where they are or anything,” Sean asked. “Not yet,” she said. “We’ll have to start searching the county. Even for a werewolf, that will take time.” “See there dude,” Sean said, looking at me.. “I call them, they get ahold of me, you can like, follow them or whatever and,” “Stop it, Sean,” I said. “Even I know that idea is dumb. Besides, you’re a nice guy. I know you can fight if you need to, but I don’t think you’d be able to handle them.” “If they harm one hair on Kris’ head, I swear I’ll,” he began. “No, you won’t.” Tanika said, stepping in. “Going off half cocked will only get yourself killed, your boyfriend probably killed and won’t save Crash. Besides, we already have a plan to get your boyfriend your roommate and Crash back all safe and sound.” “Okay, I’m all in dude, what do you need me to do,” Sean asked. “Actually,” Tanika said, looking at me, “no offense, but we’ll need Jason for this one.” |
| Shifting into werewolf form is a process. One I traditionally don’t stick around for all that much unless I’m needed. It’s painful. Muscles contorting and wrenching. Bones cracking, growing, shrinking. Fur sprouting and pushing. Crash once described it to me as giving birth in multiple places on your body all at once in the span of about five or ten minutes. Although I cannot attest to the pain of bringing a new life into this world, I’m certain there is more than a couple women out there who are now crossing themselves and saying ‘thank God I don’t have to deal with that’. The key thing is the five or ten minutes. I’ve never timed him on it, but he claims to have a record for about four minutes forty-seven seconds from human to monster form. That night he beat that record by at least thirty seconds flat. “Okay big guy,” I started, and he turned and glared at me. A snarl on his muzzle that I had never seen before directed towards me. My blood ran cold for a second as I was given a sudden reminder that God or nature or whoever had gifted humanity with a far superior predator to keep us on our toes. “uh….” “Out with it,” he snarled. “Look,” I said, waving my hands in a downward motion. As if that was going to calm him down? Has that motion ever calmed anyone down? Why do we do it? Anyway, I digress. “You’re a werewolf, they’re werewolves. You honestly think running off like this will help?” “They want me. I give myself up they’ll let them go,” he said. That was his big plan? To make a sacrificial play in some sort of vain effort to save us? I had no idea I was clenching my fist until I raised it. “That’s your big idea?! To sacrifice yourself?” “Yes,” he snarled down at me. “And Mitch was supposed to keep you away from here until they were done! But you had to go and talk him into destroying my house!” “Don’t give me that,” I spat back at him, “You’re about to go out there and sacrifice your fucking life so that group of psychopaths will HOPEFULLY release our friend!” “They will,” he snorted. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.” I gritted my teeth until they hurt. I suppose it was time for one of my infamous ‘open mouth and insert foot’ statements that I’m so good at. But this one kind of turned into a bit of a speech. I’m terrible at speeches. I once in the military turned an award I was receiving into a reprimand when my squad leader at the time told me to say a few words, so I read off my grocery list and sat back down. In my defense, they never said what kind of words to say. But this speech, well, it came from the heart. So, despite it never going to be recognized as one of the all-time greatest speeches out there, it’s at least decent. “Go ahead, jackass, get yourself killed!” See there? Strong opener. Told you it was decent. Okay, sorry for the interruption. Here’s the rest of it. “That’s all you’re going to do, you frickin flea bag! I thought you werewolves were supposed to be smart or some shit. That’s your big plan? To let them kill you, possibly torture you first, in the hopes that they’ll maybe release our friends?! You know in the list of all time dumbest plays, that’s number one! You may not understand this, but these assholes want us all dead! Because we committed the crime of loving you! That’s right, I said it. We love you, you stupid, ungrateful, moronic, walking, growling, childhood nightmare! All of us do! Or did that whole ‘stand and fight’ thing we did not get that through your thick skull! You got fur growing inward as well when you shift, because that is just pure asinine! You’re our big brother! The father we never had! The strong, cool uncle! You’re the one who helped all of us heal some part of ourselves! You think we’re going to turn tail and run now, then you better check your legs and see if maybe you got neutered on your last checkup you…” A werewolf’s roar can stop a lot of things. It certainly stopped that speech. After receiving a full volume saliva shower (thanks Crash), I found myself curled up on the floor for a moment, with him standing over me, flexing his claws as if he was ready to do damage to someone. And I was the only one around. “Damn it, Jason! I love you too, but do you not think I have a plan? It’s my job as the alpha of this little pack to protect you all!” He huffed for a moment longer, then stepped through the door, slamming it behind himself. I was still huddled on the porch, shaking a bit, trying to force myself into a standing position. “Uh, you okay dude?” Sean asked after a moment. He patted me on the shoulder and it took everything I had in me to not jump. I swallowed. “I think I saw his lunch,” I muttered. “You should know better than to lay into a werewolf, man,” he said. Then after a moment, he muttered “I really wish Kris and Zack was here.” I looked him in the face, and patted him on the shoulder. That turned into a quick hug. Hey, we’re not a hugging group, but when your loved one who’s as close to you as a spouse disappears and might have been kidnapped and you might never see again, you get a hug. I don’t know of anyone who wouldn’t give a hug in that instance. “I know,” he said, “I’m like, usually the chill, go with the flow guy. But this is bullshit. Kris never hurt anyone. Why him? Why did it have to be him?” A lot of people would be incline to blame me in that position. It’s understandable, after all, I started the blog that kind of started this mess. I felt more than a little bit of guilt for The Nobility showing up. However, Sean for his credit never once through that part of things blamed me for anything. He took it as a sort of “why can’t we all just get along” type of vibe. Go with the flow, I suppose. I swear they’ll put it on his tombstone one day. What will be mine? “Pepperoni and Cheese”. But that’s because I’m a sucker for an old joke. “We got two people missing. A pissed off werewolf. And now, we’re standing here alone with just my pistol to keep us safe,” I grumbled. “We got to find him,” Sean said, looking down. “What,” I asked. “We got to find him,” he said again louder. “We got to get Kris back! Can’t you like, text them or something like you did last time?” I sighed and leaned against the fridge. “Sean, that would only work once. Next time I do that, if they even bother to come back here, it will be to blow the house up, or something. They won’t make the mistake of coming in twice.” “We could always follow them back,” he muttered. “What,” I asked. “We, I dunno, call them up or somethin, then follow them back to wherever it is they go after they give up and don’t find us,” he said. I snagged a beer from the fridge and handed it to Sean. “I know you miss him,” I said with as comforting of a smile as I could muster, “and I know you want your boyfriend back. I understand. If it was my lover, I’d want them back safe and sound too! But,” “Don’t patronize me,” Sean growled. “It’s a good plan.” “Sean! This is me you’re talking to. The king of bad plans. And even I’m telling you, that’s bad! IF they were regular humans, I’d be all for it. But Sean, those are werewolves. WEREWOLVES.” I tapped his skull. “Heightened senses, remember? Can hear a billion times better, see a billion times better, especially at night, not to mention the sense of smell. They’d see us before we even made it ten feet. Besides, that sort of tailing takes a team of people highly trained communicating constantly to pull off.” He sighed. “Or a werewolf,” he muttered. I nodded and swallowed. “Yeah, and ours disappeared.” He stood up, a grim look of determination on his face. “I’m going to do it, dude,” Sean muttered, then left the room. I scratched my head in confusion at his words. A few moments later, he returned, holding a piece of paper in his hand. “Crash told us,” Sean said, “if anything bad happened to him, and like, he doesn’t return or whatever to call this number. And dude, I think this situation counts.” I took the number from him and dialed it. After a few deep breaths, I got the hesitant “hello?” someone gives when they get a number they don’t recognize and expect at any moment to be told that their car’s warranty is about to expire and the only way to prevent themselves from dying in a horrible ball of fire is to buy an extended one right now. “Dude, just tell him,” Sean started, but I waved a hand at him to hush. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but Crash just ran off, our roommates are missing, and apparently I’m told we need to call you for help,” I said. There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “It’s a five-hour drive. We can be there in three.” There was a crash heard in the background like something had just landed on something else and knocked it off a table. “Better make that four.” |
| Cops. Interviews. Drama. Clean up. All of it filled with growled remarks and gruff responses. Surprisingly by all of us humans. Crash didn’t much concern himself with the proceeds and goings on. Being the actual ‘victim’ this time instead of the official must have been quite the turn of events for him. He seemed to take everything with humor. But I’ve learned Crash masks a lot with a joke. I guess it only makes sense. I mask a lot with sarcasm and mean behavior. Just like my statement prior to the attack. It dug at me quite a bit, but everyone brushed it off. Though it appeared that the temperature in the place had dropped some, and I wasn’t referring to air conditioning. Zack played more games in his room than in the living room. Shawn and Kris stayed upstairs when they weren’t shopping or working. We all seemed to go into our respective corners so to speak, avoiding eye contact except when we absolutely have to interact. Some people have snark. I’d like to point out here that snark is NOT sarcasm, though sarcasm can be snarky. There is a huge difference between the two, and not everyone understands it. For example, when Kris walked into the kitchen and told me that it’s my turn to cook, so him and Shawn are eating out to avoid food poisoning, that’s not sarcasm. That’s snarky, true. An attempt at a mean comment yes. But no sarcasm. Sarcasm was me telling him “Oh good! I was hoping to be able to keep my dinner down, thank you.” That went about as well as you’d expect. When I said I’m an asshole, that’s what I mean. I’m sarcastic. I like saying mean comments with the point of getting a laugh, not with the point of hurting people. When I said that, it was said to get a laugh of some kind, despite there being only me and Kris in the room. However, there are farts that have gone over in church better than my comment did. And that caused all kinds of issues. It’s like that comment I made many years ago that caused me to get banned from family gatherings involving the hunting of eggs from egg laying and decorating rabbits. What can I say? I was asking a simple, basic question involving skittles that lead to children asking their parents more uncomfortable questions than they were ready for. This is also yet another reason why I no longer drink at family functions. Or attend family functions in general, really. So, things were getting bad. I wasn’t helping the matter any by just being the jerk that I am. It was the first real time I felt my new found sobriety threatened. The desire to drink just to forget the issue was strong, but the desire to deal with the issue and get the problem resolved was just as strong, if that makes any sense. Like two warring factions in my brain who both wanted their side to win at all costs. If you don’t have an addiction, let me explain it to you. When you’re addicted to something, no matter what it is, the desire to do it doesn’t just randomly spring back like a weed. It’s not something that suddenly grows within you or upon you. It’s brought about because of both external and internal things. Your brain developed stress responses to things. For those with addictions, those ‘bad habits’ are stress responses in many ways. For some people it’s cigarettes, for others it’s pornography. For me, it was drinking. A habit that can slowly kill you. Believe me, I wish it was porn. Cause at least that wouldn’t cause so many physical health issues. Mental health is a different story, and an argument for a different time. This is how an addiction dominates you. You have an issue happen, say like a fight with a friend who has become like family to you. This issue leads to stress and anxiety. Now we all have learned responses that alleviate said anxiety. Zack’s is to kill monsters on a video game. Mine is to drink. The drinking relaxes the brain and causes your body to release endorphins that will make you begin to feel better about the situation, the world, whatever it is. Quite literally, the alcohol would make me feel better about being me. Even though it was at one point, killing me. Crash’s solution to this was far better than mine’s. He’d been put on desk duty for a few weeks while this whole mess clears up, so we were getting a more regular nine to five with him. He hated it of course after a while, cause well, according to him “werewolves are not meant to be caged up at a desk.” Which makes sense if you think about it. Crash told me to sit everyone down and talk to them, give them a real apology. A half-hearted “sorry, we still good” out on the front lawn after a major incident that I might be partly responsible for just wasn’t going to cut it. I had to Get it out there, release the garbage into the world and be done with it. Which I understood. Zack brought to the group good times, good games. Kris brought some snark to rival my own sarcasm, it’s true. But he also brought funny stories, and unique outlook on things, as well as those damn cookies he does so well. Shawn brought a relaxed surfer outlook that kind of evened everything out. We all brought something unique to the pack. Something that was greatly missing after the initial attack. Kris was at work. Shawn had the day off, for which I’m glad. I was able to tell him what was what, and ask him to sit down with everyone. He was in their room at his computer, but he smiled when I said “I want to talk to everyone. I want to apologize, and just get this crap flushed once and for all.” “Sure dude,” he said. “I’ll tell Kris. Honestly, he’s been acting a bit bitchy man I know, but he really just wants to like, put this all behind us.” “He ain’t the only one,” I said. “I’ve been bitchy and mean too, dude.” Then I patted him on the shoulder and left the room. So, we sat around and waited. It was supposed to be six o’clock when Kris got home from his retail job. Six thirty, no Kris. Seven, no Kris. Zack was supposed to get home about seven from his shift. Seven rolled around, and no Zack. Shawn was almost in a panic. After about nine at night, Crash summed it up with one phrase. He was standing on the front porch, sipping on a beer. His arm hair was standing up a bit, fur ready to ripple out of it. “The Nobility,” he growled. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. After all, what as I going to do? My only hope was to sit there, and wait. Then pray for something to happen. Anything. |
| When we last left off, I believe all of us, Shawn and Kris, Zack and myself was being held captive on our own front lawn by The Nobility. A group of stuck-up asshole werewolves who wanted us dead because we had been allowed to be part of the pack of a werewolf, and were not weres ourselves. The house had three colorful expensive looking European SUVs in front of it on the street, two down one side, and a third down the other. Each had their headlights on. Our outside light, which flicks on of course at the slightest of movements was glowing bright as well, effectively cutting off all of our night vision. I don’t know what it did to werewolves. I do remember thinking that this would be the last thing that went through my mind before a claw or something did. I saw Crash held between two werewolves thrashing and fighting as he stared at us, despair, and fear on his wolfish face. I never thought I’d see a look like that on any creature other than human. I hope and pray that I never see that look again on anything else not human. Mitch was behind us, being held by two of the wolves. The placement of people is important to understanding the next part. In front of our house was us three humans. Behind us was Mitch, being held by two werewolves. In front of us was Crash and the other two. The jerk on the phone was standing next to the car, by the bumper, still on the phone. A vehicle’s engine revved down the street. No one paid it any heed. I’ve learned about such things. A normal human probably wouldn’t even see anything other than the cars. If they saw anything, it would be a group of people standing on the front lawn and think ‘party’ or something. Nothing out of the ordinary. They wouldn’t be able to tell what was going on. That’s what I figured when the tires squealed, anyway. Street racers will be street racers after all, and the dead of night in a neighborhood with decent roads is as good of a place as any, I guess? I never was a street racer, so I really can’t say for certain on that one. I have no knowledge of that culture. When the car jumped the curb and barreled straight at the werewolves holding Crash however, even I was able to figure out that was no street racer. It had the desired effect; I’ll give them that. We all dove, us three humans towards the right to avoid the car. The two werewolves jumped straight up to avoid it. Then Crash leaped backwards onto the hood of the SUV. Out of the woods zoomed a humongous brown figure, that crashed into the rear werewolves with a loud growl and pinned them with a snarl. I never thought I’d ever see something bigger than a werewolf in my life. Let me tell you, do NOT mess with a were…bear? Is that a term? Well, that’s the term I’m using, so it is now. I had no weapon anymore, being forced to leave it behind in the upstairs room. So, I did the sensible thing, and ushered everyone upstairs, getting us out of the fight as quick as possible. Though by the time I got through the front door, it really was over. No deaths. I’ll give them that much. I had expected a lot more bloodshed. At the end the massive creature had two pinned to the ground, Crash clutched one against one of the vehicles, and there stood Charles on top of his car, grinning like a fool. “Did good! I know I did good,” he shouted. “Yeah, you did,” Nancy shouted back to him from the passenger seat. I blinked for a moment. “Charles,” I asked, stepping back outside. “Owed you,” he said, then looked down. “And Crash.” One of the wolves pinned down snarled an insult at the bear holding him down. The bear leaned forward and snarled back, “You forgone the treaty. You’re not allowed on these shores. The Nobility does not exist here.” He looked up at me, and grinned. “The Nobility is everywhere.” It sent a chill down my spine. Despite a creature leaning on him that could literally tear a werewolf’s head off as easy as one could tear off mine, he was grinning like none of it mattered. It’s a look I’d seen before. When you watch enough videos of suicide bombers at check points, sat through enough After-Action Reviews and studied enough footage of these types of people, you begin to see the signs. More than a goose walked across my grave. An entire heard of geese did the chuck berry duck walk, complete with guitars and that cheesy Cheshire Cat grin. “Down,” I shouted as I hit the ground. That’s when things went a bit sideways. The SUV sitting by itself on the side road erupted. Explosions like this, you feel the force first. Then you hear explosion, feel the flames. It’s not like in the movies, where you see this giant fireball of flame that erupts while you get the opportunity to walk away from it wearing sunglasses and a stare cold enough to freeze ice cubes. The boom threw chunks of the car almost everywhere, including one door that embedded itself into a wall. Then flames licked and danced through the vehicle. Thankfully they hadn’t loaded any shrapnel into the car. No one died, but the explosion was a good enough diversion. The werebear was knocked backwards. Every window in our house, and almost everyone on our block shattered. Thankfuly Zack, Kris and Shawn were on the front porch and mostly protected from the blastwave. I was laying down, so most of the shockwave passed over me. Though, I was still stunned. Sitting up, all I saw was one SUV in flames, two gone, a werebear, Crash and Mitch. We sat there for a good long while on that lawn. I got checked and eventually cleared. Crash and his boss got cleared. We had a conversation, most of which turned into me berating myself with him patiently listening to me. Why won’t I detail it? Well, I promised him I’d keep him out of the blog. We talked later after everything happened and this was as far as I could get him to be included. Though, I was able to get this much within it. I sat on the front lawn, police and ambulances around us. Taking our statements, (none of them went inside the house, thankfully. Otherwise, I’d have to explain the Home Alone set up), and basically cleaning up the scene. I had taken in and exhaled a shuttering breath. Staring at Crash standing over in the distance. He was in human form, wearing a pair of shorts and a simple shirt and telling the police…well something. Not my business I guess what they were talking about. “Am I just making his life harder,” I asked. “I mean, I’ve been trying to help, but all of this insanity, is it because I’m meddling? I’m just screwing things up?” “Fuck them,” he said. “You can quote me on that. The Nobility would have come anyway. You’re just a convenient excuse.” Charles laid a heavy hand on my shoulder later on. His car was still on our front lawn. I wasn’t sure if it ran or not. He stuck around I think because no one had told him he was allowed to leave. “You have a habit of sticking your nose where it’s needed,” he told me. “But not where it’s wanted.” “Yeah,” I said, looking down at the ground. “I’m a handful to put up with.” Charles laughed. “Sometimes. But you know, if you’re feeling aquatic, just remember: not everyone gives each other the same gifts.” I thought about what Charles had said when we went inside. Hulderfolk have their own twisted logic at times which can turn out to be correct. A simple truth that we often overlook because we dismiss them as being, well, simple. But also, we were exhausted. Going on day three of no sleep, and we now had a house full of broken glass to go along with our Home Alone set up. We had windows to tape up. All of those traps and the fight to clean up after. And, oh yeah, that little matter of sealing the windows so the incoming rain didn’t destroy our stuff more. My eyes burned I was so tired. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to eat. I wanted to just be anywhere at that moment, but right there. I followed Crash as he turned to head inside. Most of the police were gone, at least we had that much. And the house itself was still standing, though it would need major repairs over the next several weeks. “Did we win round one or lose it?” His shoulders dropped a bit. “I think they got us on points. You know they’re not done, huh?” “Dude, they brought a Vbid to use as a distraction. Anyone who does that won’t be stopped by a small Macaulay Culkin routine.” “You’re right,” Crash replied. “Don’t tell Kris, Shawn or Zack that I think they’re at their limit.” “What puzzles me is why make it so weak? I mean, they could have made that thing strong enough to blow down our house, the neighbors place, and leave a nice crater in the road. You werewolves would have lived but hated life. The rest of us would be dead. Why did they make it that weak?” “I don’t know,” Crash admitted. “Unless they’re not actually out to kill you four.” I looked at Crash. My jaw dropped open a bit. “What could they possibly want with us?” “That part,” he said, “I don’t know.” |
| The hardest part of my plan was honestly getting everyone on board. I had to explain it more than once to Kris and Shawn, both of whom was very skeptical of turning our home into a death trap. “What if Crash comes home” came up more than once. I promised Mitch, and well, everyone that if Crash came home, I’d be the one to stop him from coming inside before we disarmed the traps. Then there was the manner of traps we could use. I’m not certain a claymore would stop a werewolf, though it would slow it down and piss it off. That’s what we would be going for. Slowing them down, at least until we could do something a bit more to them. Unfortunately, silver doesn’t work like it does in the movies. A simple touch or glance at it does nothing. It has to get into their blood stream to hurt or kill a werewolf. I wasn’t desiring to kill any of them. At least, not yet. This did feel a bit like kittens protecting the den from a lion. In the end, there wasn’t much we could do if they decided to, say, forgo all subtlety and jump from the ground to the second-floor windows to literally bite our heads off. But it was better than sitting and waiting for them to come get us. Plus, being pro-active against a problem feels better than waiting for your problem to come and maim you in the middle of the night. I’m not much of a sportsman so I stopped by the store to pick up some fishing line. It makes a great trip line that’s hard to see. I stretched the fishing line across a few of the stairs and in one door way. Then I did a couple things you’d expect. A nail or two on the stairs, some trip hazards in a small hallway, Soapy floor in the kitchen, then we set inside upstairs, and waited. If we had the home set up the same way the kid did in the movie, I would have definitely set up some paint cans to the face style traps. But as it stands, I felt confident in our ability to at least piss off our attackers before they killed us. That made me feel a little better. When we had completed the trip back to the house, all the shopping, and were upstairs in Kris and Shawn’s room it was almost morning. Mitch was downstairs preferring to have a bit more open room to fight, especially if he was going to “get his claws dirty” he said. Although all of us had seen Crash shift more than once between human and wolf, Mitch preferred privacy to do it so we let him perform that feat alone. Getting The Nobility to walk into our trap after we had set everything up, we thought would have been a challenge. However, as we worked setting the house up, I had an epiphany. Instead of hoping they might happen to show up to get us, I just texted Crash and asked him when he was coming home and told him that everyone was worried here. There wasn’t much more that could be sent. “The party’s here”? “Don’t forget we’re hunting”? Anything of the like and we might as well just text them, “bye the way, we know you’re not actually Crash and we’re setting a trap.” As it stood at that moment, I still wasn’t sure that I had done exactly that. Expectations were non-existent. After all, were they going to just show up in black SUVs like in the movies? Maybe a few old Cadillacs or something like in a Scorsese flick? We didn’t know. We certainly didn’t expect three colorful, expensive and very out of place European SUVs. They waited until nightfall before they showed up. We ate, we talked, we planned, and we jumped at every little shadow and vehicle that rolled down the road. Tension is like pulling on fishing line. After a while, it starts to cut into your skin, leave lines. It can even cut you if you keep it tight enough, long enough. It started to cut us a bit. I won’t go over everything that was said, but to sum it up: Kris at one point said this was all my fault for starting this little blog. Shawn of course backed up his man. Zack tried to point out that fighting is stupid when everyone was about to show up. And I said…. Well, I’m ashamed of it. But I didn’t start this blog to sugar coat anything or make myself feel any better about the world. I really started it to try and make sense of the insanity that was happening, to try and screw my head on right. To also try and get a little bit of therapy through these words on the screen, cause anyone who’s ever attempted to get mental help from the VA can attest to, they ignore you till you almost die, then they treat you. And when they treat you, you go back to wishing you’d just been ignored. What I had said was “Well, I guess instead of just helping Crash with things perhaps I should be more like you free loaders and do absolutely nothing.” That was the most hurtful thing I could come up with on short notice. Yes, there was more curse words in it, and maybe the word wasn’t exactly “free loaders”, but closer in tone to a curse word. Hell, this blog isn’t censored, I don’t know why I’m doing it now. The words used was ‘useless fuckers’ not ‘free loaders.’ I’m still ashamed I said it. Though it did give everyone a pause. The one good thing that came out of that fight was the silence. It allowed us to hear the engines running outside. One individual stepped out of the lead vehicle, a blue Mercedes of some kind. He was in human form, talking on his phone. I couldn’t see more than that thanks to the encroaching night. Front and back door slammed open under the heavy feet of the werewolves. Zack, Kris and Shawn all jumped out of their skins and into each other’s arms, a cry dying in their throat. I didn’t blame them. Experiencing this sort of thing was frightening at first. Heck, I can’t really count how many times I’ve seen it whether it’s with training or through real life situations in my previous occupation, and it was still frightening for me. My fear response had just been trained to be pulling a pistol instead of crying out. Crash in wolf form has a brown and black fur pattern that blends in with the night. So, if he wants, all you see in the darkness is his two eyes shining and his teeth glistening in the full moon light. He pulled this little prank on me when I was going to the pisser on one of the first nights living with him. That’s why I saran wrapped his toilet seat by the way, I did literally wet myself because of that. Mitch’s fur pattern is pure nightmare fuel. A mix of silver, white and grey, so it almost glistens in the light, making him seem even larger than his already humongous frame. He looks like a ghost of a monster come to life in order to rip you to shreds. When the door kicked in and the first wolf came barreling through, he pounced, twisted and chomped their shoulder. They crashed to the floor and into a wall, with a snarl and a wail. Then after tackling them, he leaped through the dining room over to the kitchen and landed on the kitchen table, which creaked under his weight. Two came in through that side door, and launched themselves at him. The soap beneath their claws slipped, and they hit the floor, their jaws snapping shut in a loud clop! Mitch leaped off the table, landed on them. Digging his claws in he leaped forward throwing them into the table and wall behind him. As he was doing this, the first wolf made it to the stairwell, stepping on a nail and yelping loudly. He snarled something, then tried to take the stairs two at a time. He missed the first trip wire, then like an expert hooked the second, landing face first on the stairs and got tangled in the third. That made a perfect path for the other two. They had just finished sliding around our kitchen and just about destroying it and was racing upstairs, with Mitch in tow, literally snapping at their heels. The first of the two brown wolves leaped up the stairs, landed on the first wolves back, then leaped into the doorway, snarling at me. I glared back at them through the site of my pistol. “Far enough,” I growled. The first one of course, didn’t listen. He smiled at me, his ears twisting back as he did to make it look more vicious and stepped forward, drool dripping onto the floor. He growled some sort of threat that I couldn’t understand. Mental note for everyone out there. Threats only work if people understand them. If you try to threaten someone in a language they don’t understand, all they’ll hear is gibberish. I understood the pointing with claws and snapping of teeth, but the language barrier just left me feeling confused instead of scared. “Hey moron!” I shouted. “I think I can blast your buddy in the eye through your nuts. You want me to try? We live with a werewolf; you want to bet this isn’t loaded with silver?” That’s when he said the first thing I could understand. “You want to see your friend alive? You come with us.” “Bullshit,” I growled. “Either he’s dead already, or soon will be.” I didn’t see the looks everyone exchanged when I said that. I didn’t have to. But it was a fact. If we left Crash’s life, Crash was effectively dead. Loneliness is the biggest killer of werewolves out there. It also does a number on people as well. Loneliness breeds depression, which breeds despair, which breeds death. First the death of any desires and joys in your own life, the death of your hopes and dreams, then your own literal death. It had nearly killed me when Crash came and pulled me out of there. It nearly killed him all those years ago before we moved in. I wasn’t about to let it finish the job on him. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a gun aimed at your jewels,” I said. “Release Crash.” “You’re under arrest,” he snarled. “I don’t think you get this, but I’m American. I’m also a combat veteran. Which means, I’m hurting. Which means I’m already pissed off, and you just invaded my home in a state that says I’m allowed to kill you for that. You know the only cure for cheering up a combat vet? Killing. And buddy, you ain’t giving me many reasons to keep your dumbass alive.” I pulled the hammer back on my pistol for effect. “Try me.” He grinned viciously. “Look out the window.” I didn’t move. Zack took a moment and peered down. “Holy shit,” he said, “They have Crash.” “What,” I asked. “Yeah. Two of them have Crash by the throat,” he said. “Either you come with us, or he dies,” he said. “So, we die and then he dies slowly, or we all die now, huh,” I said. Then raised the pistol at his head. “I choose,” “Don’t!” Kris shouted. I sighed, and looked over at him. “What?” “Just don’t,” he whimpered. “Crash can’t die.” I sighed and nodded. “Alright,” I conceded. “You go first, then we’ll follow.” It was slow going, but we made it out onto the lawn. There were very few stars out, but we did have a beautiful moon above us. I looked at it and thought about how strange it was that the moon should be the last thing I saw before I died. Crash snarled at his captors, thrashed in their claws to try and free himself, but could not. Two werewolves could very easily restrain one. I wish I had beautiful words to tell him but could only stare like the rest of us. Don’t look, I thought, Don’t watch. Please don’t watch this. It’s here that I must say thank God for our lovely neighbors. I am sincere in saying that. Cause if it weren’t for them, I certainly wouldn’t be typing this out for you now. Zack, Kris, and Shawn would be long gone. They said they owed us more than one and that’s why they interfered, even if it was interfering in the affairs of werewolves. Honestly, I’m just surprised that they could come up with such a complicated plan. I guess you should never underestimate them, even if they do seem simple. |
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