Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman (23 page)

Chapter 33

With
Dallas and Herb’s help, Kevin was able to share his tale. He had passed near
Trappersville a few weeks before, heading for his clan’s usual winter lair.
Unfortunately, he was tracked. Being young, he wasn’t as good as other
Sasquatch at staying clear of humans.

“CLUMSY,”
he said bashfully.

Whoever
the tracker was, they had apparently tricked the young Sasquatch by leaving
muffins in the woods. Kevin loved muffins, especially blueberry. The first few
that he stumbled across were fine, so when the next one smelled funny, he ate
it anyway.

“YUCKY,”
Kevin grimaced, rubbing his stomach again. “MAKE KEVIN SLEEPY.”

The
hunter came for him the next night. He probably assumed the Sasquatch would be
unconscious. Instead, Kevin was having what Dallas decided must’ve been an epic
bowel movement and was luckily downwind from the approaching hunter. Since
every Sasquatch knows to flee whenever a human is close, Kevin did just that.
Fearing for his clan’s safety, he returned the way he came from instead of
continuing on. Tracked by a hunter, exhausted from running, and sick with
poison, Kevin finally decided to seek help.

“You
poor thing!” Lois gasped. “And you’re still sick?”

Kevin
nodded unhappily.

“That’d
be the Society, all right,” Dallas said. “They packed up and left in a hurry
during my werewolf weekend because Colton got wind of a Sasquatch up in the
Michigan U.P. He made it seem like they just wanted to see it though. I mean,
no one’s every really seen one, so I figured they got excited and wanted to
check it out.”

Lois
spun to glare at Dallas.

“You
see? He wasn’t hurting anyone, but your little Society friends tried to kill
him anyway.”

Dallas
held up his hands in defense. “Not my fault! They’re an ancient order of
monster hunters. You can’t just expect them to suddenly get all kumbaya and
start passing out hugs when a mythical eight-foot tall gorilla shows up.”

Lois
sighed but didn’t press the matter. Grabbing a notepad and pen from her purse,
she began scribbling.

“Stanley,
I know you just came from the store, but would you mind heading back? Here’s a
list of things that might help Kevin’s stomach feel better. While you’re out,
I’ll go back to my place and see if I can find a healing spell. Dallas, you and
Herb stay here and keep Kevin company. Talk to him or watch a little T.V.”

“I
don’t know what Bigfoots watch,” Dallas protested.

“Animal
Planet?”
Herb
suggested.

“DIFFERENT
STROKESUH.”

“Or…
Different Strokes.”

“Fine,”
Dallas sighed. “You and Stanley go do stuff, and I’ll babysit the vamp-in-a-can
and Baby Huey. Busted up blower fans. Just when everything was going so well,”
Dallas complained. Being a werewolf wasn’t at all what he expected. Cracking a
fresh beer, he reclined on the couch and tried to make conversation with Kevin.

“So
I don’t get it. You said you hide from humans, but you speak English, eat
muffins, and watch
Different Strokes
.
I might not be the sharpest number two in the pencil box, but that don’t
figure.”

Kevin
shrugged. He had sidled closer to the couch and was busy sliding Herb back and
forth across the table with a thick finger while Herb made
weeee
noises.

“MUFFINS
GOODUH. SHOW GOODUH,” he explained.

Dallas
didn’t let up. “But you knocked on my door. If you’re so scared of humans, why
come here?”

“YOU
LIKE MEUH,” Kevin explained after letting Herb’s can slide to a stop.

“Here
we go again. Look, I might be… whatever the hell I am now. Werewolf, whatever.
That don’t mean I just turned in my ‘human’ card. I’m still human, too. I mean,
look at me!”

Kevin
obliged, his sad, brown eyes looking deep into Dallas’s own.

“It’s
gotta be harder for you than it was for me,”
Herb said softly.
“I mean, I got turned, and suddenly every day was different. You get to be
almost human for like twenty seven days out of thirty. But Dallas, you have to
accept that you aren’t human. Not anymore.”

Dallas
looked down at his hands and studied them for a while. Skin, knuckles, nails,
and fingerprints, all the requisite parts to be considered human hands.
Completely normal, completely human, except that just below the skin, something
else ran through his veins.

“I
know, Herb,” he sighed. “I know.”

Chapter 34

“This
stinks of Randall,” Dallas complained. “I don’t think Colton and Aletia are the
sort to use dirty tricks. They confront stuff head-on. Randall, though. He’s a
sneaky little shit. If it ain’t a taser, or taking a cheap shot with a
paintball gun when you’re eyes are closed, he’s dropping poisoned muffins in
the woods. What a jerk.”

Lois
had made some herbal tea for Kevin, explaining that combined with a simple
healing spell, it would make him feel much better. While she tended to the
ailing Sasquatch, Dallas, Herb, and Stanley tried to figure out a plan.

“M-maybe
we poison him back. You know, get some brats from Cecil’s, soak ‘em in the
castor oil, and leave ‘em out in the t-trees.” Stanley rubbed his hands in an
earnest but ineffective attempt to look devious.

“Sure,
Stanley, because I know I would definitely stop and eat a random bratwurst I
found lying in the woods.” Dallas sniffed. “Next.”

“I
say we keep it simple. If he’s been tracking Kevin, he should be getting close.
Why don’t we just wait, jump him when he shows up, and, um,”
Herb faltered.
“Tell him to leave Kevin alone?”
he finished
lamely.

Dallas
interlaced his fingers, stretched his arms, and bent his hands back, thick
knuckles popping as he stretched.

“I
like parts one and two, but I’m going to make a minor adjustment to part three
and add a part four. We tell him to leave all of us alone. If he argues, I’ll
beat the holy crap out of him. That’s what we’ll do.”

“And
Colton? Aletia? If Randall’s on Kevin’s trail, his friends won’t be far
behind,” Lois pointed out.

“So?
There’s three of them. There’s five of us.” Dallas looked at Stanley. “Four of
us.” He looked at the little can holding Herb. “Three.” He shrugged. “Okay,
three of us, but Kevin there is frickin’ huge. That’s advantage monsters,
right?”

Kevin
shook his head while trying not to spill the tea cup he held gingerly in his
massive hand.

“NO
FIGHTUH.”

Dallas
threw his hands up, exasperated. Of course
the four-hundred pound gorilla would be a pacifist. Why could nothing ever
be smooth?

“Uh,
guys? I don’t mean to be a downer, but we don’t really have any more time to
plan. Randall’s here.”

Dallas
sprang to the window.

“Where?”

“Well,
not here, here. Maybe a mile, mile and a half away, approaching from the north.
It’s about as far away as I can see, but it’s definitely him. He’s on his moped
and is heading this direction.”

“You
think he knows Kevin is here, or is he just coming to talk to me?” Dallas
wondered out loud. “Okay. Decision time. Lois, grab Herb and Stanley and head
to the basement. Kevin, you, um. Crap. I dunno. Where do you hide a giant
gorilla?”

“Garage?”
Lois asked. “Do you have a tarp or something?”

“Good
plan. Kevin, you head to the garage and hide under a tarp. Everyone else, get
downstairs.”

While
everyone hurried to their respective hiding spots, Dallas did his best to undo
Lois’s cleaning fit and make his place look like a messy bachelor pad again.
Soon, his sensitive ears heard the high-pitched whine of a two-stroke engine.
Herb was right. Randall was definitely heading his way.

Flipping
on the television, he cracked another beer and settled into the couch, doing
his best to portray a casual nonchalance that was at complete odds with what he
was actually feeling. The tell-tale sputter of the moped’s engine crescendoed
in his driveway and then stopped. A moment later, boots crunched on the gravel,
and a hand rapped on his front door. A quick sniff put a final nail in the
mystery. Cheap hair gel, mild B.O., a whiff of bacon. Definitely Randall.

Dallas
opened the door, feigning surprise.

“Randall!
Buddy! What are you doing here? Gonna try and tase me again?”

“Dallas,”
Randall said by way of greeting. “Not a social call.”

Dallas
held the door for the other man and walked into the kitchen to grab a fresh
beer. When he returned, Randall had pulled a chair up to the table.

“How’s
that werewolf situation?” he asked without preamble.

“You
drove all the way from wherever the hell you were to ask me about that? Geez,
Randall. One of these days, I’m gonna teach you about that crazy thing they
call a phone.”

“You
didn’t answer the question. What’s the status on the werewolf? Still a problem,
or were the Hero of Trappersville and his stuttering sidekick actually able to
do something all by themselves?”

Dallas
crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Werewolf situation is fine, thanks
for asking. Now why don’t you answer my question? What the hell are you doing
here, Randall? Doesn’t seem like you to run off by yourself. I think you’d find
the experience of not having your nose all the way up Colton’s ass too scary.”

Randall
stood abruptly, knocking over the chair, and went chest to chest with Dallas.

“Where
do you get off?” he stammered, face going red.

“Bedroom,
normally, but I confess I’ve rubbed a few out in the shower,” Dallas said with
a grin.

Randall
smirked. “Whatever. Look, Colton and Aletia will be this way soon enough. I went
ahead because that ‘squatch we were tracking doubled-back this way. I hit town
yesterday and started looking into things.” He sized Dallas up for a moment
before continuing.

“Let’s
just say some of the things I looked into don’t add up to you taking care of
that werewolf problem.”

The
knife was out before Dallas could blink. He did blink though, and when he was
done, the knife was still there.

“And
there’s ‘squatch scat in your yard. So now I got a real conundrum. I don’t
think the werewolf situation has been handled, and now I’m starting to think
the newbie is getting cozy with another monster. Makes me nervous, and when I
get nervous, I tend to cut things,” he finished menacingly.

Dallas
was shocked. “Kevin! You shit in my yard? Not cool, dude. Not cool.”

The
door to the attached garage cracked open, and a massive head partially covered
by a grease-stained tarp peeked in.

“WHAT’CHOO
TALKING ‘BOUT, DALLAS?”

Randall’s
jaw dropped. His eyes shifted in disbelief from Dallas to the Sasquatch and
back, the knife following.

“I
knew it. I frickin’ knew it,” he gasped. “Why would anyone harbor a monster,
unless that someone is a monster too? Something stinks in Denver, that’s what I
say. So you got exactly three seconds to start explaining before I gut you like
a fish.”

“I’m
a werewolf,” Dallas stated matter-of-factly. “And that there Sasquatch in my
garage is Kevin. Oh, and there’s a witch and a vampire in a beer can in my
basement.”

This
time it was Randall who blinked, which was all the opening Dallas needed. His
hand lashed out and knocked the knife aside. A fist followed, catching Randall
under the chin. The blow sent the hunter reeling into the table. Closing in,
Dallas was caught off guard by a low kick, and he tumbled to the side.

Randall
pounced and landed heavily on top of Dallas, driving the knife downward. Dallas
managed to grab Randall’s wrist and deflect the blow, but the blade still slid
down the side of his shoulder, opening a bright line of red across his skin and
a barrel of rage in his stomach.

 
Thrusting his hips and twisting, Dallas
flipped Randall onto his side. Still lying on the ground, he drove a knee up
and landed it squarely in Randall’s groin.

“Urgh,”
Randall gasped in pain while simultaneously boxing Dallas’s ear with his free
hand. The blow was hard enough to stun Dallas, giving Randall time to squirm
away and regain his feet. Dallas was quick to follow, and the two men squared
off for round two.

“I
knew you were trouble from the start,” Randall growled. “Told Colton, too. I
think having Tia around all the time is making him soft.”

Dallas
barked out a laugh. “Aletia might be guilty of many things, but making a guy
soft ain’t one.”

Launching
a series of jabs, Dallas drove the attack and forced Randall backward into the
small kitchen. The knife flashed and flashed again, always close to finding
skin but never quite connecting.

“Your
little toy ain’t doing you much good, huh?” Dallas joked between punches.

“Yeah?
How’s that shoulder feel?” Randall countered.

Dallas
stopped swinging. Relaxing his posture, he looked at the bloody fabric of his
sliced flannel. Reaching across, he poked experimentally and pulled the fabric
open to expose the skin.

“I’ve
had paper cuts that were worse,” he commented. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Randall
set his shoulders and dropped back into a half-crouch.

“You
won’t be alive long enough to complain,” he said and attacked.

Dallas
and Randall had tangled a time or two, and Dallas thought he had the man’s
measure. Reality sank in quickly though. Randall really was a tough son of a
bitch and actually had been holding back. Now that he knew Dallas was a
werewolf, Randall was in full hunter mode and fought like a man possessed.
Despite his increased speed and strength, Dallas found it harder and harder to
block the man’s attacks. The knife found his stomach and scored a fresh, bloody
line across his flesh. Randall’s other fist and feet connected so many times
Dallas was starting to lose count. As the tide of the fight swung, Dallas was
driven back into the living room. He wasn’t accustomed to losing a fight and
was starting to get a tad concerned when a beer can hit Randall square in the
forehead.

“Bonsai!”
Herb yelled as his
can connected.

Dallas
didn’t hesitate. Springing forward, he side-stepped Randall and grabbed his
knife hand. Swinging his leg back, he caught Randall behind the knees and
knocked his feet out from under him. Pivoting, Dallas bent Randall’s arm and
fell forward, his full two hundred and ten pounds driving the knife down like a
sledgehammer. He felt the blade scrape a rib and plunge straight into Randall’s
heart.

Randall
gave a surprised yelp and was still. Dallas fell to the side panting and stared
at the blood welling up around the knife’s handle and soaking Randall’s shirt.
When he looked up, he saw Lois standing across the room, a look of revulsion on
her face.

“Can
you try
not
killing people for a
change?” she asked, staring at the dead hunter.

Herb’s
tinny voice broke the ensuing silence.

“Well,
I’ve always felt people should do what they’re good at. Now, could I get a
little help here? My can’s getting a little worse for wear, and I think we’ve
found my new body.”