Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman

by Burtness, Scott

  “Stanley! Bring the steaks,” Lois called out.

  I’m trapped. I’m hungry.

  “I know, Dallas, but you’ll be okay. You’re gonna get through this,” Herb’s tinny voice soothed.

  “S-steaks are here!” Stanley announced, almost tripping on the stairs in his haste. Seeing the beast that Dallas had become, he skidded to a halt. “Whoa. Dallas, you’re sc-scary looking.”

  The smell of raw meat hit Dallas’s nose, and he howled in response.

  Meat. Meat! Mine. All mine. Meat!

  “Just toss one over, Stanley,” Herb advised.

  Stanley lobbed a slab of meat underhand, and it landed with a wet thwack next to Dallas’s pinned hands. Hunching forward, he grabbed it in his muzzle and scarfed it down.

  More. More meat.

  “Keep ‘em coming, Stanley,” Herb said. As hunk after hunk of meat landed near Dallas and was immediately gobbled up, Herb continued to talk in a soothing tone.

  “There you go, bud. There you go. Feeling a little better now?”

  “Yes,” Dallas grunted, the word coming out as a satisfied woof. He actually was starting to feel much better. The all-consuming hunger that seemed to infuse every fiber of his being was subsiding like a slow tide. It occurred to him that he actually felt like himself. Well, a larger, furrier, hungrier, and slightly more ornery version of himself, but still.

  “I’m me. I’m still me,” he woofed and chuffed. “I’m still here. The wolf is here too, but I think I can handle it.”

  Herb related his message to Lois and Stanley. Stan clapped his hands enthusiastically, while Lois was more contemplative.

  “It’s not that different from what happened with Herb, I guess. He was acting on instinct at first but started to learn to control himself. Maybe the same is true for werewolves, or at least for you.” Tapping her lower lip with her finger, she reached a decision.

  “We trust you, Dallas. We trust you to keep control and not kill us. I’m going to lift the enchantment from the hand-cuffs. Is that a good idea?”

  “Yes! God, yes. Get these damn things off’a me. It’s like being in the stockades,” Dallas growled.

  “Herb…?” Lois asked.

  “Oh, uh, yeah, sorry. He said yes, we can trust him. Or at least, close enough.” Herb said.

  Lois closed her eyes, wove her hands through an intricate series of gestures and spoke another odd assortment of vowels and consonants. Suddenly, the enchanted one-ton cuffs weighed nothing more than novelty store cuffs. Overjoyed, Dallas stood and flung his arms wide, shattering the links that had bound him a moment before. Sliding a thick, clawed digit inside first one, then the other cuff, he popped them off easy as snapping the tab on a beer can.

  Freedom felt good, and Dallas let loose a joyful howl in celebration. Seeing Lois and Stanley take hasty steps back, he dropped down to his haunches, shook his head, and licked his chops.

  “Thanks,” he woofed. “I totally get that you had to be prepared, but it feels really, really good to have those off.” As Herb translated, Dallas tried to explain what he was feeling.

  “I really do feel pretty okay. I mean, like normal. Things look funny, and I can hear and smell damn near everything but not in a weird way. Does that make sense?”

  When Herb translated, Lois nodded. “I suppose. This is who you are now. I’m just glad it’s you. If the wolf was in control, I imagine it would be a different story.”

  Dallas bobbed his head in agreement. “Oh, the wolf’s there. Right there. It wants things, too. Like more of that steak and to be outside with the moon. You think we could head up and chat in the back yard? Kinda going crazy down here.”

  Soon the two humans, werewolf, and vampire in a can were sitting in a loose circle in Dallas’s back yard. A silvery globe hung overhead, bathing them in reflected light and casting watery shadows. Lois was scratching Dallas’s ear while Stanley and Herb debated what the moon had to do with any of this.

  “It’s b-because Khonsu wanted a dog,” Stanley explained.

  “Khonsu?” Lois asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Sure. He was the Egyptian moon god. He always wanted a dog, so he g-got a great big one, a wolf. B-but that wolf howled and made a racket every night, so Ra, the sun god, he got m-mad. Being the sun god’s a lot of work, believe you me. Ra wasn’t getting enough sleep because of that wolf dog, so he told Khonsu to shut that d-dog up or he’d t-take it away. Khonsu told Ra to shove it, and they fought and fought and are fighting still. Usually, Ra’s winning ‘cause he’s the s-sun god, you know. Pretty tough, that sun. But Khonsu, he gets the upper hand, and that moon gets b-big and full, and for a few nights he gets to have his d-dog back.”

  Lois clapped appreciatively. “Not bad, Stanley. Where did you learn that?”

  Stanley blushed. “Oh, I was reading some old books. Society research, you know. We g-gotta be reading all sorts of books. I don’t know if that’s really what h-happened though,” he confessed. “It just sounded good.”

  “Well, it’s as good a theory as any, I suppose. You like that one Dallas?” she asked, shifting her hand to ruffle the fur on his head.

  “Yep. Good story, Stan,” Dallas chuffed. “Almost as good as the one where you went back inside the house and got me another steak.”

  Herb laughed and translated, sending Stanley on his way.

  “Only t-two left, Dallas,” Stanley said when he returned. “That gonna be enough, you think? I mean, you ate five already.”

  Dallas thought about it as he munched happily on the chewy meat. He’d always figured that werewolves just wanted to run around and kill people. It was a pleasant surprise to realize that they were mostly just really, really hungry.

  Can’t fault a guy for getting a bit crabby when he’s got a hankering, he decided. Hell, once I practically punched out a Girl Scout when she was taking too long to make change for a box of Thin Mints.

  “I guess,” Dallas said, woofing in a tone that implied he’d get by. “How much longer do I have before I’m human again?”

  “Moon sets in about two more hours,” Herb answered.

  “That’s okay,” Dallas said. “Kinda nice sitting back here with you guys.”

  “A wolf, a witch, a vampire, and Stan, sitting under the stars,” Lois wondered out loud, looking up at an unfathomable sky. “Funny how things work out.”

  Funny indeed, thought Dallas, circling Lois so she could more easily scratch his other ear. Funny indeed.

  Chapter 32

  Three weeks quietly slipped by. With no solid plan for how to handle the new normal they’d been thrust into, they had decided to keep a low profile until Dan’s disappearance blew over. Lois and Dallas worked while Stanley did whatever it was Stanley did to pass the days. It was so completely normal that Dallas was almost able to forget the fact that things were anything but normal. Almost, until the Sasquatch showed up.

  Lois had brought Herb over. The three were discussing whether Slow Johnson would let him be an honorary team member in the winter bowling league when there was a gentle tapping at the front door.

  “That’ll be Stanley. Took him long enough,” Dallas grumbled. “Guy’s got one job, get me food, and he turns it into a three hour excursion. Must’ve had the list upside down.”

  With a proper ass-chewing queued up for Stanley, Dallas opened the door and prepared to unload. The tirade got stuck about halfway between his lungs and his lips when he realized he was staring at a gigantic, furry stomach. Looking down, he saw two tree-trunk legs extending to the ground, terminating in the biggest feet he had ever seen. Shifting his head in the other direction, his eyes travelled up and up and up across a broad, hairy torso, impossibly wide shoulders, and finally, to a wide mouthed, wide nosed, wide browed simian face looking down at him with two large, brown eyes.

  “HELPUH,” the wide mouth uttered.

  Dallas screamed in shock and followed the scream with three quick jabs into the creature’s stomach.

  “Where the hell d
id you come from? There ain’t no gorillas in Wisconsin! Lois, grab Herb and run! I’ll hold it off.”

  Feet dancing, Dallas fired punch after punch at the leviathan standing on his front stoop.

  “You probably didn’t realize,”

  Punch. Jab, jab, punch.

  “That you knocked on the wrong goddamn door.”

  Shift and duck, jab, jab, punch!

  “This here ain’t just the home of a goddamn hero,”

  Duck and weave, punch, punch.

  “but the home of a bona fide monster hunter!”

  Despite the flurry of blows, the monster simply stood passively until Dallas finally wound down and stopped swinging.

  “Turds on toast. You’re a tough one, aren’t ya?” he wheezed, doubling over with his hands on his knees.

  A hand the size of an extra large skillet reached up and rubbed at the belly Dallas had just used for an impromptu punching bag.

  “OWWEE,” it said in the same low, loud voice. “HELPUH.”

  “Oh, I’ll help you, alright. I’ll help you pack up that huge monster ass and ship it straight back to whatever hell you crawled out of. You might be big, but I’ve taken down bigger. Damn right, I have. Well, maybe not literally. You are pretty big, but what I mean is, I’ve tangled with five, six guys at once, you know? Add all that up, and I’m sure they were as big combined as you are all by yourself. Bigger. Hell, yeah, lots bigger. So you got a choice, buddy. Walk those huge feet right outta here, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

  “NO. HELPUH. SCARED.”

  Dallas cracked his knuckles and settled back into a boxing stance. “Oh, you better be scared. You better be,”

  “Dallas! Stop,” Lois interjected. “Leave him alone.”

  Incredulous, he spun to face Lois. “I told you to grab Herby and run for it! Geez, woman. I’m trying to watch out for you, keep you safe. That’s hard to do,” he explained slowly, “if you don’t listen.”

  Lois rolled her eyes. “He’s not trying to hurt us. God, look at him! If he wanted to cause trouble, I don’t think there’s anything we could do to stop him. Now why don’t you stop posturing and ask him why he needs help instead of hitting him?”

  “Oh it’s a ‘him,’ now, is it? And how would you know that, little miss know-it-all?”

  Lois pointed. Dallas followed the direction of her finger and whistled.

  “Oh. Right.”

  Stepping past Dallas, Lois looked up into the thing’s liquid eyes. She sighed and asked, almost bashfully, “You’re a Sasquatch, right? Like Bigfoot?” Childlike wonder lit up her face. “Are you him?”

  What looked suspiciously like a smile worked its way across the broad, simian face.

  “NO.” A finger went up and scratched a temple. “CLAN. SAME. HE OLD. ME YOUNG.”

  Lois giggled like a schoolgirl on a merry-go-round, but Dallas simply stared. Not only was the eight-foot tall gorilla talking, but, if he was following the conversation properly, was also related to Bigfoot. The Bigfoot.

  “But that can’t be,” he muttered. “Bigfoots don’t exist.”

  The Sasquatch waved happily, face still split with a grin showing wide, smooth teeth.

  “You said, ‘help,’” Lois said. “Help with what? Why are you scared?”

  “HUNTER. CLOSE. HURTUH…” the next word sounded like a boulder rolling down a cliff.

  “That was his name, in his tongue,” Herb chimed in.

  He’s right, Dallas thought. I understood him too.

  The realization jarred another not-too-distant memory. When they’d tracked down the boo hag, it had spoken to Dallas and said some kind of confusing things. Now though, the pieces were falling into place. No one else had commented on their conversation. It had spoken directly to Dallas, something about being one of its own.

  She knew I was a werewolf, or at least a monster like she was, and she talked to me.

  “I think monsters all speak monster,” he said, awed by the possibilities. “I mean, there was this boo hag,”

  “MOLLY,” the Sasquatch said, smile fading.

  “What? Oh. Crap. Um, sorry? I didn’t, I mean, she was eating people’s breath…” Dallas faltered and started to pluck at a speck of something on his shirt. “Anyway, she talked to me. I didn’t get what she was talking about, but I understood her, and I don’t think anyone else even knew she was talking.”

  Lois nodded her acceptance, then looked up at the Sasquatch. “Is there another name we can call you? A human name, maybe?”

  The Sasquatch frowned and scratched its temple again. It pursed its lips and clucked its tongue experimentally.

  “KU- KU,” it started. “KEVIN.” The smile returned in full force, complete with crinkled eyes and a tongue as big as a size nine sneaker sticking out between its teeth.

  “Kevin,” Lois repeated, smiling back. “I like that. It’s a nice name. You’re safe here, Kevin,” she continued with a loaded look at Dallas. “No one else is going to hit you, and I’m sorry Dallas did in the first place. He’s a jerk.”

  “Hey, come on! I thought I was helping!” Dallas protested. “I didn’t know he was a friendly Bigfoot. I thought he was a giant killer gorilla.” Dallas looked from Lois to Herb-in-a-can and back. “Right? I mean, look at him. Scary gorilla!”

  “And now you know he’s not, and next time maybe you’ll take a minute to find out before you start swinging,” Lois chided. “Anyway, he won’t hit you again, Kevin. You said ‘owee.’ Did Dallas hurt you?”

  “NO. BAD FOODUH.” Again, the pause followed by a frown, which Dallas was starting to associate with deep thought. “POISONUH.”

  As Kevin said the word, a rumbling fart like the world’s biggest whoopee cushion split the air.

  “Oh my g-god! Whaaaah. I was right b-behind you!” Stanley’s voice cried out from somewhere on the other side of the Sasquatch. “And my m-mouth was open. Oh man. It t-tastes like old cat food.”

  Squeezing around Kevin’s bulk, Stanley made his way into the house.

  “Hello Mr. Sasquatch. I’m Stanley. P-please don’t fart on me again.”

  “SORRY. BAD FOODUH.”

  Lois took Kevin’s massive hand and patted it gently. “It’s okay. We’ll see if we can help you feel better. If you come inside, can you be careful? Not break things?”

  Kevin nodded his head and without further invitation, ducked, turned, and slid in through the open door. Dallas, Lois, and Stanley all stepped out of the way and continued to back into the living room as the Sasquatch stepped carefully inside. The ceiling of the rambler was only eight feet high, so Kevin dipped his head a little to accommodate his height.

  “THERE?” he asked politely, pointing to an empty corner.

  Lois looked at Dallas for permission.

  “What? Oh, sure. Yeah, make yourself comfy. Um. Do you drink beer?”

  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.

&nbs
p; “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.