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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 |
| The light at the gate was very dim so the picture to me was just a black box on a white sheet of paper. I guessed Crash could see it though, cause with just a single glance, he leaped out of the car and disappeared into the tree line. Another blur disappeared after him. "What the hell," I asked Roam. "Sophia is going to get him," he said. There was a look on Roam's face that I couldn't read. Plus it was still very dark. "She'll bring him back," Roam said. "She always does." I jumped back in Crash's car, and pulled around their gravel drive. I only ground one gear! I mean, I only used one gear, but still, the transmission will live. I followed Roam into the house, who walked over towards the kitchen and kissed his wife, then turned to us. They were both still human, Cecily was over in the corner still human as well. Donte was sitting at the kitchent able across from Eleanor, looking down at his hands and not raising his eyes to me or anyone. Then there was the guys. Kris and Sean were leaned together on the love seat, half dozing. It looked as if they were doing that kid thing were they're trying to stay awake, but their eye lids are just too heavy. I'd have snapped a photo if Kris wouldn't try to break my arm for it. Zack leand against the couch snoring away and Elouise was next to him doing the same. At least there was better lighting in there. Grabbing the print out again, I got a better look at the image. It was a camera still. A blurry shot of a werewolf attacking a security guard. The entire print out had the mosaic tile look of a low resolution image being blown up way passed it's own ability. The guard's face was obscure, the attack angle weird, but still, it'd be convincing enough for a jury. One that believed in werewolves that is. Not that they ever get a jury trial. "I'll have it deleted by morning," Eleanor said. "If they have any backups not on the network we'll have trouble, but I don't think that will be a problem." "What I don't get," I glanced around the room. I was standing near Roam who stood in the doorway between the kitchen area and the living room. "Is why the hell are they bothering with this? Why won't they just come attack us?" "We're sovereign citizens of this nation," Roam said. "They're not. They can't just..." "Oh bull shit," Kris muttered from the corner, he half yawned, then said, "If they're 'Nobility' or whatever, they have diplomatic immunity, they would just be deported." I'm pretty certain he fell all the way asleep by then. I raised my eyebrows at Roam, giving him a questioning look. Kris took the words right out of my mouth. "Well," Roam said, then looking down, "I-I'm not sure." "Eleanor will remove the image," I said. "So, why are we even bothered about this?" "Look," Roam said, "Sophia will get Crash. Then, we'll have everything well in hand." "What did Crash do for you when he was here?" That stopped everyone. "What," Tanika asked stepping forward. "What did you say?" "What did Crash do for you when he was here?" "That's..." Roam started, then said, "That's classified." I laughed, "That's rich. No, it's not. You're not government. If you were, Crash would be locked up, we'd be in a motel somewhere eating crappy fast food and hanging out with Ms. Congeniality over there," I motioned towards Cecily. She snarled, but didn't say anything. "Well, then it's sensitive, and I don't want to broach that," Roam said. What bugged me the most about the entire situation was that I was missing something. You have to understand, the most I've interacted with the Rodriguez pack had been about a year ago or so when the first "Nobility" thing went down. From there, Donte and I exchanged messages and the occasional greeting card, but that was about it. Eleanor gave me a hello once on the blog, then deleted it. Roam and Tanika? Nothing. We were essentially waiting around. The guys went out to their prospective beds. It was a nice enough place that we'd all had our own bedroom, though I never asked who we were putting out with this. A little snooping revealed a bit more to me. Killian's name was on more than a couple things in there. Come to think of it, when was the last time we had seen Killian? It had been several hours prior, during that botched debriefing we'd been given. He was gone. Roam was in the living room, standing towards the kitchen. Tanika was by his side, essentially. Eleanor was over at the kitchen table, staring down at her laptop like always it felt like. So, who did that leave? Killian and Donte. It was weird, I'd never seen either one of them in the room at the exact same time the entire trip. Donte was gone with Roam. Then when they got back, Killian was still inside. Wasn't he? No, he wasn't. What the hell was going on? The door to my room was, of course, locked. I didn't lock it, but that wouldn't be much of a problem. The military teaches you a few things. One of which is how to bypass locked doors. Especially when you don't want to wait over an hour to sign a key out just to get a mop from the mop closet. Blockbuster has long since been defunct, but their products still come in handy for me from time to time. That blue and yellow card is just flexible enough to bypass basic door locks. A simple slip into the jamb and press down on the latch, and the door swung freely open. Thank you, Blockbuster! I looked at the door knob. Someone had reversed it. They placed the lock on the outside. It was one of those push style knobs, the ones you push then turn to lock. This entire thing was getting out of hand. I went over to the room that Elouise was staying in, but she was out, snoring loudly. Much louder than I'd ever hear her snore. Everything appeared haphazard. We had been locked in with the fastest rush jobs in all of rush jobs. If it wasn't for the fact that our door pulled inward, I was willing to bet they'd have just slid a chair under the knob. The gang was drugged on something and Crash was off on his own again, doing God knows what with Sophia. I needed answers, and I wasn't about to just wait around and hoped Crash survived long enough to find them. Down the stairs. I started limping as I rounded the corner, my knee and hip was exhausted. Which meant the pain was going to come, which also meant I was probably going to be in the floor soon without help. But damn it, I didn't care. Someone knew something and I was going to find out what. I walked across the yard in the dark, until I was picked up by a dark furred figure. "You're supposed to be in your room," he snarled. "Roam I presume." All I could see in the darkness was eye-shine. But it certainly could have been him. "Why are you out?" "Why are you tricking Crash?" Clawed, haired fingers grabbed the collar of my shirt and began tightening it. "I could kill you right here, you know." "Yes," I gasped, "but Crash would go to war on you." That stopped him. "Go back to your room," He snarled. Then dropped me a little too hard. It took everything I had in me to stay upright at that moment. But damn it, I wasn't about to collapse in front of him. "What are you doing to him," I asked again. He didn't respond, just turned. If I could see his ears, they would have been flattened in shame. "Just go back to your room," he said. "And don't ask questions you don't want answered." "Is it questions I don't want answered," I asked. "Or ones you don't want answered?" To those two questions, he didn't respond. Part of me wishes I'd continued snooping around the grounds that night. I was exhausted, my hip throbbing, my knee weak, but still. Maybe I could have figured something else out. Perhaps the outcome of everything could have been a lot less bitter sweet if I had figured things out sooner than I did. I'm no Columbo, though. I'm only human. Those little idiosyncrasies that all the detectives always catch on television just normally go right over my head. It does one little good to wonder, to sit and worry at night watching the stars move across the sky as you wish for your eyes to close when your head hits the pillow. When I finally went to sleep that night, dawn had just cracked over the horizon, not quite breaking the day open yet. There was no sign of Crash. That didn't sit right, either. It doesn't feel good being sidelined. It doesn't feel good being kept under lock and key with people watching your every step, the same people who are supposed to be friends and associates. People you've worked with in the past. One thing was certain that early morning when I finally started to drift off. I was beginning to understand why Crash didn't talk to this pack at all. |
| Crash had me suspended in the air. I had expected there to be more shouting, more threats. Someone to steal my quips and one-liners since air for me at that moment had become a precious commodity. But instead, Sophia stepped to Elouise. Elouise apparently pushed or threw Sophia, cause she collided with Crash, who released me as he was knocked down. That landing was one of the worst I've ever done. I had almost wished I landed on my head. Instead, it was my bad hip that took the brunt of the hit, sending pain up and down my leg, jolting through my back. I bit my lip as I writhed, clenching my eyes shut in a vain effort to shut out the pain. After what felt like eternity, the pain and accompanying muscle spasm finally subsided. The fight was over. Crash was standing over me like then like a guard dog. He even sat on his haunches like a dog, something that he had always swore to me he'd be caught dead doing. If only I wasn't in severe pain and had my camera out. "Fucking ouch," I growled, staring up at him. He lowered his ears, and looked down. It resembled the dog getting scolded for licking crumbs off the table. "Sorry," he said. "What happened," I asked. "Kris broke up the fight." I looked around. Everyone else was gone. Elouise had apparently taken the guys, and God only knew what happened to Sophia. "I...." he gasped, then looked down again. "I'm sorry. I never." I gritted my teeth. "You owe me a steak dinner," I said. "I'm talking the best fucking steak too. I want a porterhouse that makes a Filet Minogn look like one crappy things from Waffle House." He nodded. "You got it. You okay to stand?" "Just get me to the car," I said. It was becoming one hell of a trip. We drove in silence for a bit as we took the back way. "I..." he hissed, then said, "I had to do something." "I get that," I said. "Who?" "Some flunky. Wasn't even mythical. Just some human guy that the Nobility had hired. He had silver, and was determined to take my head. We weren't supposed to be there to..." Crash broke off again, tearing up. He revved the car and began to drive faster. "That's what makes it worse, you know? It was just some civilian, who thought he was doing the right thing. Jason, he was innocent, and I killed him." I got it at that moment. There's a difference between killing someone who is ready to kill you. Who has their own weapon locked and loaded, working from their own battle plan and killing someone who was so young and inexperienced they may as well not even be in the fight. "I tried to not," he said. "I...tried..." "You had no choice," I said. "I could have got shot," Crash replied. I shook my head. "No. You do that, and then I'll end up dead trying to kill every one of those self-righteous assholes." He looked at me for a moment and didn't say anything. We were driving through the back woods then, not paying much attention to where we were going or how we were getting there. Testing the bridge, so to speak, to identify where it had been charred and where to repair things. But his actions, they weren't unfamiliar to me. I'd seen other men self-destruct from such guilt. No one knows how to attack you like your own mind. PTSD can turn it into an untamed beast, ready to shred you to ribbons on the slightest provocation. But it's insidious. It's not a flash and suddenly you're standing in a killing field again for a battle you survived a decade ago. It's not like in the movies or the joke in those internet cartoons with all the cutesy animals killing each other. It's as simple as a memory. One that could be spurred on by a mundane object or person. A face caught the wrong way. A stop sign with a bullet hole in it. A car with just the right color of dirt on it's bumper and trunk. This memory springs two words which are deadly in this situation: "I wish". Then you're off to the races, your mind stringing incident after incident together. Each one your mind trying to go down avenues that had never been, trying to find a solution to mistakes you can never undo, because life has no backspace key. Your emotions rising up inside you as each scenario and failure plays over in your own head and you try to work out what you could have done differently. You know it's futile, but you still feel yourself doing it: slipping into those bonds of mistakes and yesterdays. Crash was right there, then. Chained to Yesterday and What Might Have Been. Two insidious task masters that never forgive and never lets you forget. I could tell it in the way his ear tipped down. The sniffles that he tried to hide as his heart broke in a thousand pieces and landed on his cheek fur. An idea occurred. One that would either backfire and send him spiraling, or wake him up. I wasn't sure, which. "Pull over," I said pointing to an abandoned parking lot. We were on the edge of a small city, now. And the place used to belong to a mechanic of some kind who probably had died decades ago, but no one wanted the building of. White plaster moss mold and stone. Sun bleached parking lot nearby so you could sit and watch to see if the roof was going to go ahead and cave the rest of the way in. "Get out," I said. He shook his head. "Come on," I limped over to the side of his car, pulling on his fur. "Get out!" Slowly, he climbed to his feet. "Now," I said. "Tell me, what choice did you have?" "I could have," he sighed. Then said, "Leaped over him." "Oh, so guns don't point up. Gotcha." I arched an eyebrow at him that got a snarl. "It was risky, but he'd be alive!" His ears tilted back and he slashed his claws at the air in frustration. "And you'd be dead! Hello! Don't you see what this is? You did what you had to do. Anything else, you'd be dead right now and Sophia would be snarling directions at us. We'd all die." He looked down, but didn't say anything. "You'd be dead, Crash. The war would go on. I'd kill myself trying to kill all of them. You know it's true." Again, he still didn't say anything. I grabbed his muzzle like a dog's, and pointed his eyes at me. "You're a good person, you hear me? Not a monster. A good person. You did what you had to do to survive." He pulled his head away, and sat back on the car. It rocked under his weight but held. "I still wish he hadn't forced me to do that." "We all do when it's our time," I said. "But, when it's a choice between you or them, damn it, you come home!" Stepping to him, I snarled right in his face and said, "You come home! you know damn well what it would do to all of us if you didn't." He nodded, then looked down. After a couple of moments, he looked at me and smiled. With a pat on my head he said, "Good werewolf impression." Taking a heavy sigh, and looking to the sky for a moment, "I guess you're right. It's just...a face I'll always see. Something I promised myself I'd never do again." "Wait...again?" Crash nodded. "Sophia has a habit," he said, then sighed, looking skyward again. "She's got a habit of taking these dangerous and crazy jobs. The types of things that ensures there will be fights and blood shed. She enjoys it. Makes her feel powerful." I limped around to the car, mostly to sit back down and take the pressure off of my sore hip and knee. "Sounds like a party girl. Before I met Sarah, I dated this red head. She liked to go to bars and get me into fights." Crash jumped back into the drivers seat and began driving. "Really," he asked. I nodded. "Yeah. If I won the fight, the sex was great. Thing was, the type of guys she chose to have me fight? I rarely won." He chuckled. "So, why did you agree to it?" "I didn't jump into the fights with them! Most of the time I would be sitting at the bar waiting on her to get out of the bathroom or something and some dude built like...well you, would grab me by the shoulder and take a swing." He smiled and then shook his head. "Why did you date her?" "Young and dumb. The sex, when we had it, was good. But I got tired of being punched, and we didn't have anything else in common. We hated each other I found out. For her half the fun it seems was watching me get punched." He laughed, which caused me to laugh. The mood began to lift almost until we got to the compound. I wasn't sure what to expect. Flames. Fires. Werewolves stacked from one barbed wire wall to the other. But, instead what I got was Roam, standing by the gate holding a photograph. Of Crash. "We got trouble." |
| We were surrounded by angry werewolves who looked like they wanted to turn us into shredded barbecue. If I had a M-2 .50 cal on hand with a thousand rounds of silver bullets I wouldn’t be able to get even half of them before they killed me. There was only one logical action. How does the old saying go? He that fights and runs away… I sprinted towards the cars, shouting at Elouise and whoever would listen, "Crank'er up! Let's go!" Crash and Sophia beat me to his, so I turned and raced towards Elouise. The only thing that that seemed to save my life was Crash staying put, fighting off werewolves as he waited for me to get in a car. Thought I heard Sophia shouting at him the whole time, but I'm not sure. There was a lot of shouting, growling, crying from Zack, Sean and Kris, who all got as low as the could in the car. The furballs attacking us were only concerned with Crash and Sophia. It was as if us humans wasn't even there, almost. As soon as I jumped in, Crash gunned it, his car shedding creatures of the night off of it as it moved. Elouise claims she wasn’t aiming for them, but we did thump a couple. It’s hard to kill a werewolf. But if you hit one with a ton of rolling aluminum and plastic, they will limp away from regretting their decisions. There wasn't a lot of options for me to help. Sure, I was armed, my trusty Glock loaded with silver bullets beside me. But, which one was Crash? Which was Sophia? Her fur pattern was chocolate brown, which is black under moonlight basically. Crashs’ was pitch black. It looked as if the night had come alive to eat you. The rest of them were all the same: black fur, fangs, teeth, snarls. In other words, I could get head shots in the dim light beneath the street lamp, sure. But, would I be killing Crash? Sophia? There’s also the whole “we’re in a neighborhood” thing. At the moment, I imagined we sounded like some sort of wild teenagers street racing on the back streets with a pack of dogs chasing us. If I start opening fire, that would bring all sorts of crazy heat down. Not to mention any one of those stray bullets could go into someone’s home or worse, someone's sleeping child in their home. Killed for the crime of going to bed on time after eating their vegetables. So, what could we do? Crash did some crazy driving, swerving and shaking the tail of his large caddy. The wolves shook but still held on. Sophia snarled, slashing at them, but seemed to be doing more damage to Crash's car than to any of the werewolves. I pulled out my phone. "What the hell you thinkin," Elouise said as I began to dial 9-1-1. "Calling for help," I said. She swerved. There was a thump. A loud snarl that turned into a sharp whine of pain. Then a glance that I swear would have been a glare if she had the time. "You crazy?!" "We have the right to be here," I said. "They don't!" "M-monsters," I shouted into the phone when I heard the familiar '9-1-1, what's your emergency?' line. There was a couple of clicks. Then a voice with a germanic accent said with a weary sigh, "I'll be right down." No one asking me where I was at the moment or anything. Just 'I'll be right down' and click! Not sure what to expect, I looked over at Elouise. "We haven't broken the law," I said. "We were out at the damn cemetery to pay our respects when we were attacked." "It's not been my experience that the cops think too much of that," she snarled. "Crash is a fucking cop, remember?! That's his job?" "Oh," she said. Crash made a left, and then a right and floored it. We struggled to follow, though her SUV seemed to be suited much better to off-roading then over land cruising. The forest was inky black on our right, with a pond or lake of some kind on our left. It was big, but we were a tad too busy for me to see if it was man-made or not. I caught a glimpse of piercing gold in the forest, then something ferocious exploded out of it. It was here that things got crazy. This creature, which appeared to be a little larger than the werewolves, grabbed a couple. I'm not sure if he grabbed their shoulder, or threw them, in one moment they were snarling at Crash, hanging on for dear life, the next they were off of Crash's car. As soon as one wolf caught site of the new arrival, it left without a fight. There was a snarling grunt of a roar that sounded like a wild boar was pissed. Then the rest scattered to the four winds. Crash pulled over to the side of the forest, as well as Elouise. We were all called out of our vehicles. It was then that I got a proper look at the guy. He later told me the proper name of his species is Jofurr. Speaking with a bit of a Germanic accent, the creature was actually quite pleasant once the unpleasantness had been dealt with. A thick tuft of hair was on his head that reminded me a bit of an eighties punk rocker. His eyes glowed with an eerie power. As far as build goes he was similar to Crash, though Crash seemed to have more finesse, and this guy, who hadn't identified himself yet, was built for power. The other strangeness was that he was wearing pants. They looked to be a converted pair of military trousers, worn with a simple rope belt and nothing else. What's so strange about that? Well, most mythicals work, in the fur we'll call it. Makes sense though for them, cause their fur is thick enough that you don't see anything unless you're trying to be a creep. The rougarou do it cause their physiology literally hides anything and everything. There's nothing on them to oggle at, so to speak. But this guy and the vampires were both wearing clothing of some kind. His facial features? Well, take a wild boar. Give it a jovial smile, and place it's head on a power lifter. You'd come close to how he appeared. "I'm Florian, Nice to meet you," the new guy said, grinning around his tusks. Then he laughed and looked at Crash. "You couldn't handle this pack of puppies?!" Crash glared at me. "I was handling it," he said. "I'm guessing you called?" Florian chuckled. "Well, they sure didn't look tougher than those Wendigo's you helped me with a while back." Crash shuttered. "Thanks for reminding me," he growled. "Yeah, we're all alright, I think." "Well, that begs me to wonder though, why are you here?" We all looked at each other for a moment. "Visiting a grave," I said. Florian looked at me, sniffed twice with his snout, and then leaned down into my face. "Now, the little human wouldn't be stupid enough to lie to me, would he?" I did call him, but I was still running on adrenaline. He got in my face with a threat. It's instinct. Drilled into me from years of military training. As he leaned forward and made his threat, I pulled my pistol. "Not without silver," I said, holding it at a low ready. Of all the reactions I expected, laughter wasn't one of them. Florian threw his arms up and in mock shock, then began to gawfaw, sometimes warping into a literal snort. "Don't shoot," he said, between snorts of laughter. Crash shook his head and pinched his eyes, with his ears folded back in the most disappointed look I'd seen on him in a while. "Jason," he said, "Jofurr won't be hurt with silver." Florian's laughter began to pitter out finally and he spoke with just a touch of malice. "Put your toy away, boy. Before I take offense." I hadn't been that embarrassed since that time I woke up drunk in the Wal-Mart bathroom. My cheeks burned as I slid my pistol back in it's holster. Every eye felt as if it was on me at that moment. What can I say? It was reaction. Monsters get in my face, I draw. Have been trained to do that since Basic. "I'm trying to sort some things out," Crash said. Florian snorted in Sophia's direction then nodded. "Well, be careful. Cause next time one of your posse might not be so smart as to call me. And next time, knowing what your sortin, I might not decide to come." Sophia looked down at that statement for a moment. Her ears folded back, like she had been embarrassed. Of course she didn't say anything. But knowing what I know now, yeah, I wouldn't have said anything either. I would have wanted a hole to crawl inside. Florian disappeared into the trees, his form melting back into the darkness from which it was born. After a few moments, both Crash and Sophia turned on me. Yes, I grabbed my pistol again when they did. "What the hell were you thinkin," he snarled. "We had this under control," Sophia snapped. "You did, did you? Cause it looked like we were all about to be dead!" "You didn't know the plan," she growled. "There was no plan," I snapped back. Crash, on instinct I think more than anything else, grabbed my shirt and lifted me a couple of inches off the ground. "Choose your next words carefully," Sophia said. "Cause they could be your last." I had never seen him like that. For anyone. It was as if part of his mind was now gone and what had replaced it was that of a real monster, begging to be let off a leash. I looked down into his eyes, and was about to say something about this being a terrible way to end a friendship. But Elouise beat me to it. "How about if you harm him or any of your friends hairball, you'll draw back a fuckin nub." She had morphed into full rougarou mode. Thick tail, scales, gator snout, the works. And she was ready to fight. |
| It was about fifteen minutes into the conversation with Roam when the strays arrived. Their arrival was a welcome addition. It was tiring dancing around the half-hearted apologies and forced small talk. Roam was judging my state of mind mostly by scent, and not being terribly subtle about it. I didn’t mind, Crash does that too, but he’s a lot more discreet. Perhaps there’s werewolf manners where you’re not supposed to let the other person know they’re sniffing you or something? Manners or no, it was a welcome reprieve when Donte arrived. His tall presence was a welcome reprieve from the apologetic tone of Roam. He shook my hand hand long and hard before bringing me into a one-armed hug. “I don’t think Roam was thinking when he grabbed this,” Donte said as he grabbed the half-drunk beer from my hand. I’d been mostly sipping on it out of politeness. Roam smiled and shrugged. “It was on short notice, eh? Donte’ could you please grab something more appropriate?” Donte smiled and pointed at me. “Way ahead of you. Odul’s okay?” “Soda is better,” I said. “Anything with bubbles and caffeine.” He disappeared for a moment and was right back, passing Roam who worked his way back into the building. He gave me an apologetic smile. “Look, Cecily and Killian they’ve been around werewolves too long, I think.” What could I do at that moment? Tell Donte that I knew why they were doing what they were doing, and perhaps they shouldn’t have pulled the thread they pulled to get what they wanted? Or that their temper tantrum, although entirely staged felt as if it paled in comparison to my very real tantrum that was still bubbling just under the surface? If Crash hadn’t needed me there, I would have said more than a couple things which would lead us all to things we’d later regret. It’s a talent. But that wouldn’t settle what Crash needed to get settled. There was something very real there that was at the root cause of everything. My friend wasn’t there for the grave at all. A grave which we all were increasingly suspecting to be fake. There was something else at play. An unsettled business that can only be as tangled and messy as any business with family. So, when Donte gave his excuses and jokes, I just nodded like an idiot as I gave a smile and said “Yeah, I guess so,” in the right places. “They don’t know it yet,” Donte said. “They really haven’t seen you work the way I have, but they need you. We really need you right now.” “What could possibly be happening that a group of werewolves can’t handle?” The smile fled from Donte’s face for a second. “Something big,” he said. “We think that...I mean we have information that leads us to believe...” “Jason, could you come in here for a second,” Roam asked, peaking his head out from the door of the house. He gave Donte a look for a second, and Donte looked down at his beer, which suddenly interested him a whole lot more than what he was going to say. I followed Roam and found Crash sitting in a room with the guys, and his family. Zack, Kris, and Sean wouldn’t look me in the eye, which meant one thing: Crash told. There’s a certain betrayal in that which stung. The events of my military career I’ve never went into on here and won’t go into. But the events of others, what other individuals had suffered through, whether I was there to witness it, or heard about it over beers on long painful nights filled with talking, tears and regret, I didn’t and will not divulge. It is not my place to say. I grew tight lipped as I gritted my teeth. “I had to explain a few things,” Crash said. I nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” Cecily said. “I had no idea.” I looked at her, but didn’t say anything. I turned to Crash and asked, “everything?” He only shook his head. “Jesus,” Kris said, “there’s more?!” With a pained smirk I replied, “probably lots. Crash hasn’t heard everything, either.” “Well, I know everything.” I glared at Eleanor, who looked up from her laptop in the corner. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a pony tail behind her. “What, I’m a hacker. You can’t tell me something like ‘he served and won’t talk about it’ and don’t expect me to not go snooping.” Yeah, understandable given her personality. Still wanted to kill her, but understandable I guess. “You got the grave site?” Crash looked at me and nodded, “yeah, we should be ready to go.” Of all the people I expected to give me words of wisdom in that moment, it wasn’t Sean. We piled into our vehicles, and I was getting ready to climb in with Elouise. I didn’t want to ride with them, to bear the weight of the stares, the whispers. But Sean patted me on the shoulder, and said, “Look dude, I know if you like, don’t want to talk about it or whatever. But if you do, we’re all here for you, man. Even if you just want to talk bullshit so you don’t have to think about bullshit.” With as much sincerity as I could muster, I looked at him and said “thank you.” But I still rode with Elouise. In Crash’s car, you get long periods of silence and classic rock. A side of classic rock you don’t normally get from rock stations. Not a lot of Elton John and Pink Floyd. But a bunch more of Dr. Hook. Punk bands you only know for one song but some how have fifteen amazing albums. And the occasional group that makes you wonder if they’re actual werewolves or if Crash is messing with you. In Elouise’s car, I got nineties country, and chatter. “So, yeah, that girl thinks she’s so slick with her super secret James bond room and whatnot,” Elouise said, following behind Crash’s tail lights. “But she ain’t as smart as she thinks she is. I mean, come on. Did you see the plan they were tryin ta get us to do? What have they been watchin too much bad cop shows or somethin? Gonna try to just jump’em on the street put them in a panel van and then what? Watch the werewolf tear through it at a red light?” She shook her head. “I can tell you why they’re in so much damn trouble.” She’s not normally that chatty. Perhaps she could see that I didn’t want to or need to talk at that moment? Sometimes its not the contents of words that matter so much, as it is the respect and courtesy given. Elouise must have understood that I didn’t want to talk or think about other things. Respected it, and gave me exactly what I needed. So, Elouise, thank you for that. It helped a lot. We pulled through one town in the evening, and cross the county to another. On the edge of a sleepy Midwestern town sat a missionary style Christian church with a quiet cemetery behind it. The church sat on a silent street lit with streetlights hung from power poles that draped lines down the side of the street. It was the kind of church where you’d expect Sunday luncheons and pancake breakfasts or fundraisers to buy books for the local school. It sat in the perfect neighborhood for a zombie apocalypse movie. Crash got out of his car, and walked a few feet, looking at the ground. I got out and followed him, with Elouise watching from her car. “I wasn’t trying to betray you,” Crash said, “I was trying to show them how much they hurt you.” “I understand. Next time make who knows my decision please,” I said through gritted teeth. He nodded, slowly pushing himself into a shift. As his arms grew hairier and his muzzle began to sprout, I drew my pistol. Twin golden eyes looked at me from the woods. Werewolf eyes. “Get back to the car, please.” “Trouble,” I asked. “No,” Crash said. “Not yet.” From the woods came a voice. A female voice. “So, you knew?” “Yes,” Crash said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” Emerging from the woods in full werewolf form was none other than Sophia Rodriguez. Crash walked towards her and they gave each other a respectful distance. Former lovers trying to respect boundaries and dodging the land mines of emotions they’ve laid between each other. I grabbed Crash’s discarded clothing from his shift and brought them to his car. “What’s going on,” Zack asked. “Looks like they’re talking,” I said. “Hope that’s a good thing,” Sean said. “It’s not,” Kris growled. “That’s the opposite of a good thing.” The two werewolves disappeared into the woods. I picked up Crash’s discarded clothing from his shift and brought them back to his car. Almost an hour later they emerged. As Crash came close to the vehicles, I could see the viscous dripping of blood from his claws and teeth as he approached. It was black in the fluorescent light of the street light, as if pure evil dripped from his teeth and claws. I’ve seen him torn up, covered in all kinds of filth and crud. I’d never seen Crash appear like a horror movie monster before that moment. It chilled my blood to the bone. He looked at me, his ears folding back, his lip curling. “You’re going to need your pistol.” “Shit,” I growled as I drew it from my holster. I looked around. I didn’t see any of them yet. But I could feel them. They were there, somewhere. Waiting. A moment passed. Then two. A pair of golden eyes appeared. Another behind it. A black silhouette emerged from a house down the street. Another behind us. We were trapped. And they were closing in. |
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