The Wolves of Third Clan

by Matt Rogers

  Chapter 18

  We arrived back at my apartment around eleven o’clock after taking the scenic tour of North Dallas and were met by the trio of Phillip, Vivian and Trudy as we entered.

  “Hey, Johnny, check this out.”

  “What is it, Phillip?”

  “Steve learned a new command.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, watch. Okay, Steve… Burp!”

  “Burrrrrp” said Steve.

  Bob and Steve were sitting on their purloined spots on my sofa wearing diapers with the expressions of complete indifference on their faces. The fact one or both had been in on the premeditated murder of Peter North did not lend me to see them as anything more than pawns in a game they lost.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yes, Trudy?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “There’s Chinese takeout in the oven.”

  Chinese takeout is not food; it’s dessert dressed up in dinner clothing. If the Chinese give the rest of the world nothing more than their incredible takeout then they can still pat themselves on the back for a job well done. I grabbed one of the cartons of deliciousness and began devouring what was inside before even attempting to discern what it consisted of. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway because in all my years of consuming the sumptuous ingredients I’ve never once found a flavor wanting.

  “Did you two find out anything at the club?” the green-eyed goddess asked.

  “Uh-huh” I replied while slurping a noodle.

  “What?” she asked with those tasty lips.

  “Melissa and Peter had been meeting at Bloody Mary’s for months.”

  Her eyes immediately went cold and she made her way into the living room. I don’t know if Phillip had ever made her mad but I’m guessing he didn’t for the sole reason he was still breathing.

  “Get up!” she demanded.

  Bob stood.

  “What is your name?”

  “Bob Simpson.”

  “Who is your master?”

  Nothing.

  “Who is your master?”

  Nothing.

  The next thing she did ruined any chance I might’ve had at saving my futon; you know, maybe reupholster the thing, bring it back to life in a way. She tore Bob’s head off which left Zombie goo all over so even if I could find a reupholsterer I don’t think I could ever sit on the thing again.

  “My God!” I said between mouthfuls.

  “Mistress?” said Phillip.

  “What!”

  “Oh, nothing, it can wait” he said which I thought showed shrewd intellect.

  “Stand!” she commanded to Steve.

  Steve stood.

  “What is your name?”

  “Steve…”

  “Who is your master?”

  He lifted his gnarly hand and pointed directly at Vivian.

  She told Stevie-boy to sit and walked away to confer with Vivian in my bedroom while Phillip, George and I stood there in a somewhat confused state of disbelief after the red-headed Vampire removed the noggin of the last salesman who ever tried persuading Peter North into changing cleaning supplies.

  “Phillip?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “What just happened?”

  “She tore Bob’s head off.”

  “I saw that. Why did she tear Bob’s head off?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Are you going to ask her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, George?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “Do you know why she tore Bob’s head off?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, do you think we should put it back on?”

  “I’m not doing it.”

  “Well I’m not either. Uh, Phillip?”

  “Don’t even ask.”

  So there we stood, three grown men refusing to replace the thinking stone on the torso of the Zombie. A torso, I might add, which kept reaching up with its hands to feel for its head which was lying face down on the floor in front of my previously impeccable futon. A futon which now had a stain the size of a basketball made by Bob’s previously living brain fluids.

  “Hello? Anybody home?”

  “Hey, Nat, how’s it going?” I asked because by then I was pretty much unfazed by visiting extraterrestrials.

  “It’s going pretty good, Johnny, how are you all…? Whoa! What happened to old Bob?”

  “Trudy ripped his head off.”

  “I can see that, any idea why?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh? Okay, well, I’ve got a little bit of information on the old headless Zombie there. Want to hear it?” he said while indicating Bob with a nod of his head.

  “Hear what?” came the reply from Vivian who was leading Trudy out of my bedroom to join us.

  “The information I found on old Bobby-boy ” the detective said.

  “Oh goody, what’d you find out” she quipped excitedly.

  “That Bob was not exactly the most upstanding citizen in the world. He was in prison for eight of the last nine years and was pronounced dead about three months back.”

  “Prison?” George asked.

  “Uh-huh” Nat answered.

  “What was he in prison for?” asked Trudy.

  “Arson.”

  “Arson?” George asked.

  “Yep, it seems our headless friend was a fire-bug.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense” said George.

  “Why not?” asked Nat.

  “Because why would an arsonist show up pretending to be a salesman and help kill Peter?”

  “Hold on.” I said.

  “Yes?” George asked.

  “You think Bob was in on it?”

  “In on killing Peter? Yes.”

  “But I thought, well, I guess I thought Bob was just doing what he was told.”

  “Bob’s a Zombie, Johnny, so is Steve…”

  “Steve…”

  “… and Zombies don’t do anything other than basic tasks unless ordered by their controlling Vampire. They also won’t do anything they wouldn’t have done willingly if they were alive. Since they were there, they were in on it.”

  “Oh” I said.

  “But why would Bob willingly attack Peter?” George asked.

  “Maybe, because of why he burned the building down” said the detective.

  “Why did he burn the building down?” asked George.

  “Because it was the last thing standing between him and millions of dollars.”

  “Okay, you’re losing me, Nat” said George.

  “George, the building old Bob there committed to ash was the Reformatory for Wayward Youth.”

  “The Reformatory…? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Because you own it.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember now. Some nutcase burnt the thing down about… Hold on. Bob’s the nutcase?”

  “Yep.”

  “And why did he burn it down?” George asked while peering more intently at the fool who lost his head.

  “To get what was underneath it.”

  “What was underneath it?”

  “Liquid gold, petroleum, just waiting for the market to wise up and raise its prices so it could be sucked out of the ground and sold to a thirsty population of traveling wayfarers for a nice tidy profit.”

  “But didn’t we rebuild the Reformatory?”

  “Yep, but not there. You bought a nice, new, shinier place closer to home. It actually worked out better for the kids because the new place came with a stable and horses the kids can ride and take care of.”

  “So what does this have to do with Peter’s death?”

  “Well, I’m guessing it’s what you did with the land, George.”

  “What did we do with the land?”

  “You built a prison. You built a prison and ringed it with oil rigs which are this very second pumping out millions of dollars of dinosaur fossil fuel.”<
br />
  “Oh crap” said Phillip.

  “But not only that, George, you’re also using the prisoners to maintain those rigs and the taxpayers are paying you to do it.”

  “Oh, no” said Vivian and Trudy.

  “Yep, you’re really stepping on some pretty big toes here.”

  “I’m going to kill him! I’m going to dig up his rotting carcass and kill him again!” said George.

  “Excuse me, Nat?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “What’re you all talking about?”

  “I’m talking about power, Johnny. What you’ve stumbled across is the biggest power grab this clan has seen in ages, and I mean ages, because I can’t think of a time since the Division when someone has attempted to do what our friends here have done.”

  “But we didn’t know, Nat” exclaimed George.

  “Do you really think that’s going to matter to them, George?”

  “Who is them?” I asked because I was starting to get a little worried and I at least like to know what I’m worried about.

  “The Clan Elders” Nat answered.

  “What about the Clan Elders?”

  “Johnny, I think you need to take a little walk with me, okay?”

  “Sure, if it’s all right with you guys?” I said as I looked to my new family members.

  “Oh it’ll be fine with them, Johnny, they’re going to need a little time to digest what I just said and you asking a lot of questions would probably get a tad annoying; right guys?”

  “Yeah, go ahead, Johnny, we’ll be here when you get back” said George.

  So me and the bug-eyed, long-necked, green-skinned, molecular-hologram of an Alien from Heaven posing as a detective on Earth departed my apartment leaving behind two Werewolves, two Vampires and two Zombies.

  “So, uh, what’s going on, Nat?”

  “Johnny, our friends in there are playing a power game which is both extremely cunning and immensely dangerous. Have they told about their clan structure?”

  “About there being three clans with three families at the top of each?”

  “Yes, they like their threes and, staying with the theme, they also organized the power structure of those families in the same way.”

  “I don’t follow?”

  “What are the three most necessary things in life, Johnny?”

  “Sex, drugs and rock and roll.”

  “No, not sex, drugs and rock and roll. The three most necessary things in life are food, shelter and security.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s how they organized themselves.”

  “How who organized themselves?”

  “The clans. The families which make up the clans are separated according to their unique skills in one of the three necessary things in life; food, shelter or security. In the case of the LeTorque they entered the realm of Shelter whereby they own and manage real estate. Other families specialize in the production of food or the production of weapons or any other subset of those three necessary things. Now, at the top you’ve got the three respective families of each unique skill which the lower families agreed are the best at what they do. Take a corporation for instance. At the top of the corporation you’ll have someone in charge of a specific sphere of influence such as a Director of Finance, Director of Research or any other numerous directors a corporation needs in order to run effectively. Are you following me?”

  “I think so. One of the three families at the top is in charge of food, another of shelter and the third of security?”

  “Yes, Johnny, good boy. Let’s use Shelter as an example. At the top is one ruling family. Now, below them are all of the other families engaged in Shelter whether selling houses, building skyscrapers or managing office towers; it doesn’t matter, as long as it comes under the purview of Shelter they’re under the family at the top of the ladder called a Clan Elder.”

  “What if their occupations overlap?”

  “Good question, and it’s precisely why the three are set up the way they are.”

  “Huh?”

  “Before the Division, there were…”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s the ‘Division’?”

  “It’s where the clan members got together and divided themselves according to the necessary things in life. Before, the clans were ruled by whichever family had the most power. Unfortunately, it’s pretty hard to judge who has the most power if a family is engaged in a whole variety of different occupations because while one family might be terrible at growing wheat they might be really good at making swords. There was a lot of bloodshed when they were choosing according to overall power because, well, you had to make a persuasive argument about why some guy was such a doofus at one thing and why you were so much better at another. All that name-calling led to a bunch of heads rolling and finally three of the wisest and strongest families got together and proposed they set up a board of trustees, as it were, where three families would rule over the three trades which made up the necessary things in life. Now, as to your question of overlapization…”

  “Overlapization?”

  “Yeah, I just made that up, so anyway, as to your question of overlapization, it does occur, quite frequently I might add, but the Clan Elders merely decided they would vote on it. If a family is engaged in an occupation whereby they’re overlapping into another occupation the Elders vote on which occupation the family will be situated under and designates it so.”

  “And that works?”

  “Yep, it works quite effectively actually.”

  “What if the family doesn’t like the designation?”

  “Very astute. Yes, it does happen from time to time because one family might think they have a much better shot at the top job if they were in one field over another and, if so, they can relinquish the occupation which falls under the category they don’t want and be reassigned, but it almost never happens.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the other two top families whose occupations weren’t chosen would see it as a possible buildup by the third and unite to destroy the lower family.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The clans are ruled by whichever families receive the most votes, Johnny. The top three vote getters, no matter their occupation, are the Clan Elders.”

  “But what if, say, no Security family was voted in?”

  “Then one of the three families voted in would be in charge of the Security Tribe.”

  “Would they be any good at the job?”

  “No, they probably wouldn’t, it would be stupid to put a family in charge of an occupation they were not qualified for and while my friends in there may not be the most brilliant species in the universe they most definitely aren’t the dumbest. But the problem solved itself pretty rapidly because those little buggers really do like to split themselves up into smaller, tighter groups. So the three trades rapidly became what defined a family. If a family was in the ‘Food Tribe’ then they would become intensely loyal only to others in their trade. So anyway, anytime two Clan Elders see a third is increasing its family membership to the point where there’s even the slightest hint it could vote in two Elders, the two other tribes rectify the situation.”

  “And by rectify, you mean…?”

  “Assassinations and beheadings.”

  “My goodness they do a lot of beheading” I said.

  “That they do” replied Nat.

  “And why is it always beheadings?”

  “It’s the only way to stop a Superior, well, the quickest and surest way at least.”

  “Can’t they just cut their arms and legs off?”

  “They could but it wouldn’t last.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because remember how these guys heal. If you cut their leg off they can just jam it back on and in a matter of a minutes they’ll be walking again.”

  “What if they threw the leg into a fire or something?”

  “Well, that
would work except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Remember their immune system and how efficient it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well that immune system works in two ways; it can either reject something it doesn’t view as a positive or it can accept and overpower something it does.”

  “Huh?”

  “Superiors can use the body parts of other species and adapt it to their own.”

  “Huh?”

  “A Werewolf or Vampire who’s lost an extremity can attach one from another species if the extremity is of relative size.”

  “Huh?”

  “A Werewolf who lost his leg, Johnny, would rip off a Human’s and make it his own.”

  “Oh.”

  Parking lot are good places to talk. Maybe it’s because of all the fresh air, maybe because you’re moving while you’re talking, maybe because there’s so many new and interesting vehicles parked in them but, whatever the case, they make for good conversation places.

  “Nat?”

  “Yes?”

  “So, um, why were the four of them upset over the prison and oil wells?”

  “Because those two things will give them a trilogy and no family has successfully accomplished the feat since the Division was conceived.”

  “What’s a trilogy?”

  “It’s a blending of the three occupations in such a way there’s no clear choice which one is superior.”

  “But I thought you said the Clan Elders would just vote on it?”

  “They would if they could.”

  “Huh?”

  “Johnny, the family you’re with is one rung below the Clan Elder, they’ve been enormously successful in their business and were a real threat to gain a seat on the Counsel if they decided to put it to a vote but Stephanie always resisted. I guess because she wasn’t in any rush and they were building their corporation into one giant powerhouse. But Peter, well, I guess he had other plans because what he set up might be the most daring power grab ever.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Commercial Property Management is a vastly wealthy enterprise and Peter just took the company and tripled its value; at least it’s how the other families might see it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Johnny, what’s a prison?”

  “A place for housing criminals.”

  “Uh-huh. And what section of the necessary things in life is the control of prisoners likely to fall under?”

  “The Security one?”

  “Yes, and what is oil?”

  “Fuel?”

  “Uh-huh. And what section of the necessary things in life is fuel a part of?”

  “I don’t know?”

  “Yes, you do, under the three choices of Food, Shelter and Security where would you put fuel.”

  “Probably under Food.”

  “Good, and what is the current occupation of the LeTorque?”

  It dawned on me what he was getting at. Peter had found a way to incorporate all three occupations under one roof with those same occupations overlapping themselves within the simple arraignment. A prison could be viewed under the Security occupation but it also could be viewed under Shelter. The oil rigs could be seen as either Food or Security depending on one’s viewpoint.

  “But it’s only a few wells and one prison.”

  “The Superiors don’t necessarily put much stock in the amount of money a company makes.”

  “They don’t?”

  “No, they’ve been around long enough to see companies rise and fall like the tides. What they view as important is the cleverness of a company, the potential for further success, and I’ve got to tell you when the other families hear about what Peter North did they might view it as a remarkable and vote-worthy thing.”

  “They might have voted the LeTorque as Clan Elders of Shelter?”

  “No, they might have voted the LeTorque as Clan Elders of all.”

  “I thought you said they divided themselves into three groups so they wouldn’t have one family leading them?”

  “No, I said they divided themselves into groups because they couldn’t decide on which family was worthy to lead them.”

  “And you think…?

  “I think Peter North was trying to stake a claim as Clan Elder of all.”

  “Would it have worked?”

  “It’s quite possible. Actually, I think it was even more than possible, I think it was probable.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they would’ve seen quite clearly what Peter’s real motive was.”

  “What was that?”

  “War… Peter was going to take them to war, Johnny.”