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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. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon: https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3 |
| 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.” |
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