CLAN

by Harry Shannon

  "Is about damn time."

  Carlita pulled the Glock 9 she carried in her waistband and fiddled with it. Lips nearly drove off the road checking that out. It wasn't her flesh so much this time. He surely did love his guns.

  They followed a bumpy dirt road and eventually pulled into a brightly lit parking area. There was some kind of shack with a light burning in the window. Carlita whistled. "Yo, that's it. Salt Lick Motel. That's where Curly said she was staying."

  Lips parked the car and undid his seatbelt. He checked his own Glock. "Okay, we do it then."

  Carlita opened the passenger door and got out. "Be cool. Let me do the talking, okay?" She marched up the steps and knocked on the door. For the first time she noticed the sign in the window said CLOSED.

  "Can I help you with something?"

  The voice startled Lips. His gun was halfway in the open before he caught himself. Carlita stayed calm. She turned and smiled; saw a good-looking kid in blue jeans and a stained T-shirt, wiping grease from his hands with a rag that was not much cleaner than his skin.

  "Hi, can we still get a room?"

  "Not until morning," the young man said. "The lady who runs the place is off tending to a sick relative or something. You go on up the highway and you'll find some top-notch lodging in Dry Wells. Even Wendover ain't too shabby."

  Lips had moved to flank the kid. He was checking out the cluster of darkened cabins. "Look like nobody is home."

  "Truth be told, there's not much of a town here, folks. Hell, we don't even have a regular gas station, although if you're hurting I can top you off up the street at my garage."

  "Why, that's very kind of you." Carlita smiled, eyes wide and seductive. Lips figured the kid's fillings would melt, but he just went back to wiping his hands. He had some kind of thick paste he was using and he concentrated like a man double-checking a winning Lotto ticket.

  "No bother."

  "Hey," Carlita said, trying to sound casual. "Did anybody new from out of town check in here recently?"

  The kid shrugged. He kept his head down. "Beats me. I don't work for the motel. Have to ask the girl who does. I think her name is Jennifer." He looked up at Lips.

  "So, you want some?"

  Lips blinked. "Some what?"

  "Gas, dude. You need some gas, or not?"

  "No," Lips said. "We don't need no goddamn gas." He took two long steps toward the kid, but surprisingly the boy didn't flinch, although he took one cautious step back, mostly because Lips was such big man. Kid has balls.

  Carlita cleared her throat. "We're just tired from the long drive and we really need to take a bath and crash. Could we maybe catch up with whoever runs the motel and figure out a way to get a room? We'd be really grateful." She cocked one hip when she said that. The kid seemed to notice this time.

  "Well, you might be able to find the place. Her aunt lives back towards the highway quite a ways. There's a small dirt road, you can barely see it, maybe a quarter mile before the Two Trees. It goes north towards those mountains. You stay on that up into the pines and keep your eyes open. A few hundred yards up there is a little bridge goes over a dried up streambed. Go across that and park. The house is set back a ways into the rocks, but the porch light will be on. They'll have the keys to the place and maybe they'll just let you grab a room and settle up in the morning."

  "Thank you," Carlita said. "You have a nice evening."

  "You too, lady," the kid said. He didn't mention Lips. Then he turned his back and walked away, which for some reason pissed Lips off all over again. But Carlita was already at the passenger door and getting back into the rental. Lips watched the boy vanish into the doorway of a nearby building that looked like some kind of garage. Reluctantly, he slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

  "You get all that?"

  "I got it," Carlita said. "And remember what we came here for, okay? Keep your mind on the job."

  Lips backed up almost to the motel steps. He turned the car and started back down the bumpy road toward the highway. Carlita rolled her window down and peered out into the darkness, looking for a barely visible dirt road.

  Back in the garage, Jake watched them leave. He washed his hands at the sink and threw some water on his face. "That won't hold them very long," he said. "They'll figure out I was talking through my ass in less than an hour."

  Jennifer Fowler stepped out of the gloom. "You did fine, honey. We don't need that long. But we'd best get moving."

  "You sure you want to do this on foot?"

  "We go up the back way, travel light and move fast, we'll be there before anybody figures it out."

  Jake lowered his eyes. "We could run for it. Just start over someplace else, somewhere far away from this dump."

  Jennifer shook her head. "And leave those folks up there to get slaughtered? Besides, the bikers will be all over this whole area in no time."

  "Okay, then let's do this." He changed shirts. Jennifer took one shotgun and Jake the other. He turned the one light out and locked the sliding metal gate from the inside. They stuffed some freeze-dried emergency food and water packets into backpacks and slipped out the side door.

  The concealed hiking trail was nearly invisible; an alarmingly vertical line running up the mountain. They slipped through some plastic trash barrels. Jake helped Jennifer up onto the ledge.

  The area went bright with light.

  Jennifer gasped. She froze like a fawn, torn between running away and staying to help Jake.

  "Hey!"

  The lights went out again. The person behind the wheel of the truck got out and walked toward them; big boots taking long steps, punching down the gravel.

  "Now just hold it up a second," Doc Cherry said in a hoarse whisper. "Because you two ain't going anywhere without me."

  29

  Jennifer led the way up the path. She knew the route better than anyone. She also moved as quickly as any human could without making a lot of noise. Doc Cherry was a strong and agile woman too; she kept up the pace. Jake took the rear, at times even walking backwards to make sure no one was on their trail. They moved with power and purpose and put nearly a half-mile between them and the town of Salt Lick before they said another word.

  Finally, when they paused briefly in the moonlight to catch their breath, Cherry broke the silence. "Are either one of you ever going to fill me in? What the hell is going on?" The night was silent, the moonlight dazzling. She could not bring herself to speak in more than a whisper. "This town is becoming a freak show."

  "Look," Jennifer replied evenly, "we'll be better off if we just keep moving."

  "Why?"

  "Let me put it this way, the proverbial shit is about to hit the legendary fan."

  "Jenny, I'm a physician," Cherry said, hoarsely. "But I have seen some things in the last few months that have shaken my faith in science. Things I just can't explain. If I had a brain in my head I would run for my life."

  "Yeah," Jake offered. "You did, you would." He put his hands on his hips and stared up at the moon. "Starting right about now."

  "Maybe," Doc Cherry whispered, "but to be honest, my curiosity has gotten the best of me. And maybe my ambition. If I'm right about this, it will make one hell of a paper for the American Medical Association."

  "Then you're a fool." Jennifer shook her head. "You have no idea what you're up against. You'd never live long enough to publish it."

  "Maybe, but I've decided to take that chance." Cherry sat back on her heels. "Now before we get moving again, what can you tell me about the things that killed those tourists last night?"

  "Shut up." Jake hunkered down and waved them silent in one smooth motion. His eyes were darting from side to side and he'd stopped breathing. He seemed to be listening with a subatomic intensity.

  "Damn," Jennifer said. She heard it too. She looked shocked and frightened. "They're coming."

  "Who?" Cherry felt her stomach lurch up and down before settling. The young people did not answer her. So she listened a
s hard as she could and finally heard a low, throbbing hum from the highway down below. Motors, some shouting. "Hell, it's that motorcycle gang?"

  "Hurry. We need to make it to the top of Lookout Point or they'll see us moving around." Jennifer cradled the shotgun and took off like a frightened bird, her knees pumping, elbows moving in rhythm. Cherry had to struggle to keep up. Jake, his own shotgun dangling from his right hand, caught up and paced them to the side. As the sound of the bikes grew in volume, Cherry placed the gang as down below and to the right. Jennifer was correct; their silhouettes would be clearly visible once the first riders of the gang came around the turn.

  Cherry slipped in some loose soil and started to slide backwards, but Jake reached down and grabbed her collar. He planted his strong legs and held on. She regained her footing and started moving back up the hill. Jennifer got several yards ahead of them during those few moments. She broke through a thick wall of foliage and out onto the rocky promontory above the curve known to locals as Lookout Point.

  "Down, down."

  Jennifer had gone prone and wedged herself down between two boulders. She did not raise the shotgun. Jake moved to the opposite end of the small ridge and threw himself flat. He glanced at Jennifer, saw her decision and instantly made his own. He also moved the gun to the side. Doc Cherry was badly out of breath by the time she caught up with them. She went to her knees and gasped for air. The droning sound of multiple engines got closer; then closer still. Cherry also flattened and then crawled to the rim of the cliff to peer down over the edge. She'd never been up this way before. Quite a view.

  Down below, the small paved highway magically appeared from the pine trees, turned left in a long, slow curve and vanished into the rocks and boulders. The cliffs beyond dropped down into a wide, blackened void that seemed deep enough to be the gaping maw of hell. The gang arrived. The noise became overwhelming in the moonlit, mountain stillness; like the echo of some massive, military aircraft warming up in a hanger. The three of them watched as the pencil-thin yellow beams of the gang's headlights pierced the forest.

  Cherry turned to Jake. "It's them, isn't it? They're the wolves. I should have guessed. It's been obvious all along!"

  The boy jerked his head silently as if to say 'just keep down.'

  The one called Hombre, the obvious alpha male, rode up in his customary position at the front. His shaved head gleamed and reflected the moonlight. His massive, tattooed arms flexed as he brought his motorcycle to a halt. His woman Mary Jane was next in line. Third came the one known as Lobo. He was dragging something large behind him by a chain. It was wrapped in canvas and tied with rope to the back of his bike. It seemed about the size of a human being.

  "What is that?"

  Both Jennifer and Jake shot Doc Cherry a withering glance. She decided to remain quiet. After all, they had the guns.

  More deafening noise assaulted their eardrums. The rest of the gang milled around for a while before settling into position. At a hand signal from Hombre they all cut their engines. The silence that followed was sharp and eerie. Lobo pointed to a small dent in the rocks where people sometimes came to picnic. Three of the gang immediately set about gathering firewood.

  Up above, Doc Cherry couldn't take her eyes off of the lump wrapped in canvas. Although it may have been an optical illusion, the material seemed to be moving… As if whatever was wrapped up inside of it were breathing.

  Whump! "Aw, crap!"

  A peal of laughter followed the explosion of fire. One of the gang members, a short chubby male with long hair, had poured too much kerosene on the wood and burned himself in the blowback.

  Hombre gulped from a quart of what appeared to be straight Tequila. He gave the bottle to Mary Jane and reached under his jacket. He howled at the moon and produced a gigantic, saw-toothed blade. The wicked knife sparkled orange in the light of the growing fire. Meanwhile, the other members of the gang started lighting up massive joints, snorting various powders or drinking bottles of booze with an intensity that bordered on religious.

  "Yaaaaaaah!"

  The short guy with long hair who had burned his hands and arms gulped nearly a pint of something and shrieked; the sound a mixture of pain and excitement. Two of the females began fondling one another while some of the men rooted them on. Doc Cherry was just beginning to wonder why they were bothering to eyeball an orgy when Hombre fired a handgun into the air. Everyone down below jumped and settled down a bit.

  "Let's party!"

  With whoops and whistles, several of the gang dragged the large piece of canvas forward. They dropped it next to the now-roaring wood fire. The something trapped inside began thrashing around and kicking. Lobo fashioned a noose from the rope. He yanked back the front end of the canvas and everyone laughed and applauded.

  The large head of a grey wolf was revealed. The wolf snapped and snarled, but his body was still imprisoned in the canvas. Lobo dropped the noose down around the animal's neck and yanked, choking off its air. The wolf whined as his neck was stretched and his huge tongue protruded.

  Meanwhile, the other gang members stripped the canvas away. They tied up the wolf's hind legs, so he could not run or fight, and pulled that rope tight as well. The animal was now helpless. They stepped back, their dirty faces feral and excited, and started to chant Hombre's name. The animal thrashed and tried to escape. Some blood flew into the air and splattered the canvas. Doc Cherry cringed. The wolf was already badly injured; surely these monsters weren't going to torture it to death?

  Hombre knelt down next to the struggling wolf. He grabbed a thick piece of grey fur near the back. The wolf was male—Doc Cherry could see the exceptionally large genitalia, even from so high above. He struggled to free himself, stop the swift and certain pain he sensed was coming. Lobo grinned. The knife flashed, removing a large chunk of fur, fat and tissue. The wolf shrieked but the sound was choked off by the rope around his throat. He bared his teeth and writhed in agony.

  Doc Cherry was almost on her feet by then, ready to shout in protest. In fact, if any one of the gang had looked up they would have seen her. But they were all riveted by the cruel spectacle unfolding before them. And just as suddenly, Cherry found herself on her ass with the wind knocked out of her. She blinked and gasped for air. Jake had slammed the back of her knees with his shotgun. He crawled to her and slapped his palm over her mouth. There was an odd gleam in his eyes.

  "Yeah, I know it's terrible," he whispered. "But you stay down and shut up, or I'll break your damned stupid neck."

  Cherry stayed still. She looked up at the stars asking God how mankind could be so evil. The veterinarian in her couldn't bear to watch that poor creature's predicament. She bit her fist and emitted a small, whining sound of anguish.

  OooooooOOOoooooOOoooooo…

  The howling rose quickly, almost as if in answer to her quiet prayer. It came from everywhere, nowhere, all at once. Cherry felt the skin on her arms and the back of her neck ripple involuntarily. Everything in her wanted to find a safe place to hide. She lowered her fist and rolled over onto her side. She couldn't see what was happening from her position but was afraid to move. Jennifer and Jake were still peering down through small holes in the boulders.

  ArrOOooooOOOOoooooOoooooo…

  What the hell was going on down there? Cherry crawled over to the aperture in the rocks, her heart pounding up into her throat like someone briskly climbing stairs. She couldn't bring herself to look.

  "Aaaah!"

  Down below, someone had screamed. Or was it that poor wolf? The sound was a mixture of animal and human. Oh, Lord. No. Could it be?

  OOoooooooOOooooooOOooo…

  Yelling. Gunshots. The howling was clearly coming from all around them, all over the forest down below the promontory. Some snarling was heard and more human screams. Cherry arrived at the edge and forced herself to peer down.

  The wounded male wolf still lay flat on his side, bleeding heavily. He appeared near death. He had bared his teeth and his tongue w
as lolling in the dirt. Lobo had released the rope around its neck and backed up into a space near the roaring fire. He was waving a tire iron around. His eyes were wide and he was screaming for help. Figures were struggling and rolling in the dirt everywhere around him. This was a war zone. The noise and bloody chaos grew exponentially as Cherry watched. Her jaw dropped.

  Huge wolves were attacking the gang, not the other way around. Easily a dozen, perhaps more of them.

  One thick, grey-bearded man started flailing about with a thick piece of chain, fighting to keep a wolf at bay. The scene descended into mania: Hombre, flailing about with the knife. Lobo screaming for help. Mary Jane backing away from a large male who was snarling, head down and tail twitching. Someone shrieking at the blood spurting from his severed lower leg…

  Hombre cried out. One wolf had its teeth sunk into that large, tattooed forearm and was steadily gnawing. Its muzzle was rust red with spurting blood. Hombre started screaming like a teenaged girl at a rave. He tried to stab down with the hunting knife, but just then a second wolf fastened onto that arm and held on tight. The weight steadily dragged Hombre to his knees. Meanwhile, the biker with the chain had his right Achilles tendon severed by a wolf bite from behind. He went down in a pile of fur, his leg shooting blood.

  So much happening. So quickly. Several other gang members were already under the weight of the wolf pack; thrashing or lying still. The man with the chain had been torn to pieces. In under two minutes, he'd become little more than ground beef. Mary Jane was flat on her back, eyes wide open and glassy. A large, dark wolf was feeding on her entrails while her legs kicked and twitched feebly. She had already gone deep into shock and was no longer even trying to escape.

  The long-haired chubby guy with burned arms was putting up a brave fight. He fired what looked like a small revolver into the mass of writhing bodies. He managed to hit at least two of the wolves; one kept on fighting and one fell on its side, chest heaving and legs twitching. When the gun was empty he threw it at a large timber wolf. He kicked out with both legs while he groped the corpse of a friend looking for another weapon. Teeth and gore and muscle and bone.