The Wolves of Third Clan

by Matt Rogers

  Chapter 21

  Many people assume because they are in what is sometimes referred to as ‘The Bible Belt’ most everyone down those parts is of the Christian faith. Now, they definitely do hold mostly to the ‘Word of God’ written lo’ those many years ago but, like I said before, they’ve gotten a whole boatload of brand new immigrants and they brought with them their own cultural ways; different culinary delights, different accents and different clothing styles.

  “Good morning, Ma’am, can I help you?”

  I nodded and handed him my card.

  “Oh, it’s a buy-one get-one free gift card. Is this for me?”

  I nodded.

  “Why thank you” the security guard behind the desk in the lobby of the tower housing Commercial Property Management said.

  I was wearing what I believe is called a saran, or burka, or whatever it is you call the full robe including head scarf some women from the Middle and Far East wear. It was blue, it was hot, and it was perfect for my undercover persona of an aspiring entrepreneur handing out buy-one get-one free coupons to promote her new Indonesian-Australian restaurant. I was completely covered except for my eyes and hands and it was those two body parts Trudy had applied make-up to in order to change me from a hairy ape into an exotic woman from overseas. The only thing she couldn’t change was my voice but we overcame it through the use of the coupons and the universal sign language every foreigner uses in order to get their point across.

  “Oh, you want to hand these out?” he asked.

  A whole bunch of pointing and gesturing until the poor sap finally guesses correctly.

  “Well…” he began and I could tell he wasn’t all too sure he could allow someone to hand out meal vouchers in his lobby so I did the only thing I could think of to get him to come around to my side of things and let me hand out my papers promising low-cost tasty tidbits; I put my hands together in the ‘Please?’ position and silently begged.

  “…I guess so; but I can only allow it in the lobby, okay?”

  I nodded my head and bowed a couple of times to show I understood what he said and appreciated his support then I stood up straight, turned around, and began chasing down every one of the unsuspecting people roaming the lobby at nine in the morning to hand them my coupons. Now, I hope none of those people ever tried to find my restaurant because it didn’t exist. George and Vivian merely had them printed up at one of the thousands of copying places hanging on by the tips of their fingers since the advent of the internet and its amazing array of easy, one-stop shopping which included everything copier related when they visited Nat.

  “Oh, hello, Ma’am. You want me to take one of those? Okay, thank you very much.”

  Was what I heard from just about every person as I went about thrusting my fake documents of Philippian-Australian cuisine into their receiving hands. I was actually having a pretty good time because, for some reason or another, everyone was exceedingly polite to me. Maybe it was the fact I was posing as a woman, maybe because I was wearing the eastern equivalent of a nun’s habit or maybe it was because I was impersonating the kind of individual Dallas wants to attract to its great city; entrepreneurial go-getters. But it was probably because I was giving away half-price meal tickets.

  I had sized up a couple of businessmen in suits as my next potential customers and was making my way toward them along the south side wall when I heard…

  “Pssst.”

  …and stopped dead in my tracks.

  “Pssst, Johnny, it’s me” came the invisible voice from the wall to my left.

  “Vivian?”

  “Of course it’s Vivian, who else would it be?”

  “I don’t know? It’s just, you know, you kind of freaked me out right then.”

  “Sorry, but, Sweetie, I need you to slow down just a little bit.”

  “Huh?”

  “The coupons, I need you to hold onto a few of those.”

  “But those guys are perfect customers, Vivian, look at them; blue suits, red ties. They’re exactly the type of people we want to frequent Phill-Aussie-fries.”

  “Phill-Aussie-fries?”

  “Yeah, I kind of gave the place a name; you know, make it sound more authentic and everything. I went with the basics, just combined…”

  “I know what you did, Johnny.”

  “What do you think?”

  “What do I think about what?”

  “What do you think about the name? I was thinking about calling it Aussipeans but I couldn’t figure out how to spell it. Should I put a hyphen in or…”

  I stopped talking because I heard a quick intake of breath.

  “Vivian?” I whispered.

  “Shhh” I heard back.

  I shushed because it’s what one does when an invisible Vampire tells you to shush and I was going to look in the direction she was looking except I couldn’t see her so I had no clue as to what direction it would be, so I turned my head and saw… a Werewolf.

  It’s weird how you all hide in plain sight. You’re so big you can’t possibly be missed but you seem to have this ability to blend in with your surroundings. In this Werewolf’s case he managed to make it all the way to the security guard’s desk without me seeing him do so. He was talking to the nice guard who’d been kind enough to let me hand out my promotional coupons for Phill-Aussie-fries and he had his back to me so I couldn’t see his face but the sheer size of the man was enough to qualify him as Wolf; so I stood there, staring at his back when all of a sudden I noticed the security guard nodding his head and pointing his finger at me.

  “Oh crap.”

  “Just be cool, Sweetie.”

  “Oh crap.”

  “Okay, he’s coming this way so just remain calm…”

  “Oh crap.”

  “…and remember; don’t say a word.”

  The goliath covered the distance of the vast lobby in two steps and stood before me as I did my best imitation of a petrified immigrant lady handing out two-for-one coupons in order to promote the newest taste-bud sensation to take the Americas by storm; Phill-Aussie-fries.

  “Ma’am?”

  I said not a word, just stood there staring across the lobby towards the two men in business suits who’d appreciate a little koala and grub-worm shish-kabob while the Wolf stood looming over my right shoulder.

  “Ma’am?”

  I refused to acknowledge his presence, even intending so much as to walk away from him and give those two hard working businessmen the coupons they so readily deserved but was thwarted in my actions by the Wolf who moved to stand directly in front of me.

  “Ma’am?”

  I looked up into the eyes of the beast and prepared for the worst.

  “Are these your coupons?” he asked indicating a coupon I guess he got from the security guard or someone else because I surely would’ve remembered if I’d given him one.

  I nodded my head in acceptance, yes, those were indeed my coupons and saw something flash ever so slightly over his right shoulder as I prepared to be disrobed and eaten for my part in the longest running conflict the world had ever known when...

  “Do you have any more?” he asked.

  … I was stunned speechless. I had fully prepared myself for the death which awaited me but instead was being treated with the kindness and courtesy an entrepreneurial restaurant owner from the South China Seas deserved.

  I nodded my head and reached into my pocket to pull out some more of my precious coupons when I noticed the arrival of the elevator, an arrival signaled by a bell, and then the doors opened to reveal…

  “Oh crap.”

  ... Melissa.

  “What did you say?” the Wolf asked.

  I tried not to say anything but knew the cat was out of the bag because my voice could not have been mistaken for a woman’s. He was beginning to peer at me more intently but that wasn’t what I was really worried about, no, what I was really worried about was Melissa who was staring at me from across the lobby like she
knew me, staring at me in the way people do when they know they recognize someone and are trying to draw it out of their memory banks. Then her eyes opened in realization followed by her lips parting to begin issuing my death sentence when…

  “Run, Johnny!”

  … a knife appeared and severed the Werewolf’s throat; severed it so cleanly, in fact, it was able to be ripped from his shoulders and carried away. How do I know this?

  BECAUSE YOU WERE THERE?

  Because as I was running for my life I looked over my shoulder and saw the Wolf’s head following close behind in the invisible arms of the Vampire Vivian who saved my life.

  Okay, invisible is the wrong word to use because it implies the person is clear and that’s not what she was; she was opaque. As we ran down the streets of Dallas her appearance kept shimmering and changing according to the background scenery. One second she was white as the walls of the lobby housing Commercial Property Management Incorporated and the next, she was a shade of dark blue as we raced past one of the mirrored skyscrapers which stood as a monument to the use of glass as a building material. She really would’ve been able to run right past people without them noticing if it weren’t for one thing.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Holy…!”

  “Was that a head?”

  The bloody head of the deceased Werewolf she refused to drop. We ran straight, we turned left, we turned right and I probably would’ve kept running all the way to Oklahoma if Vivian hadn’t yelled…

  “Stop!”

  … so I stopped and turned around in the direction of her voice to see her vague outline against the beige wall she was leaning against, a vague outline without garments because clothing doesn’t help one when they’re trying to blend into the background by using their skin’s natural pigment abilities, so I could just about see her au natural and was doing my best to appear nonchalant when…

  “Give me your robe.”

  “What?”

  “Give me your robe, Sweetie.”

  “My robe?”

  “Yes.”

  “But… but…”

  I couldn’t think of a good reason not to and I blame myself to this day for not having more foresight and imagination. I handed her my robe and she put it on, reached into its pocket and pulled out her cellphone she told me to hold before we entered the Tower of Death as I like to call it.

  “George, we’re at the corner of Houston and Fifth” she said and hung up.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yes, Vivian?”

  “Could you go through that dumpster and find a bag for me please?” she asked while pointing at the trash receptacle.

  “Um, sure, but why?”

  “I need something to put Daniel in” she responded while lifting the bodiless Werewolf.

  The ride back to my apartment was a strange mixture of serenity and adrenaline. I’d just run for my life after impersonating a small businessperson and witnessing the beheading of yet another Werewolf but was now seated in the rear of the pickup truck while George and Phillip rode in front leaving me, once again, with the two Vampires of my dreams.

  “It was Daniel?” asked George.

  “Uh-huh” replied Vivian.

  “Man, he’s had a tough time lately” he said.

  “Yeah, getting your head cut off does that to a person” I added.

  “No, Johnny, not that.”

  “Huh?”

  “Daniel lost his mate about a year ago to blood poisoning.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?” Trudy asked.

  “Yep, got his head right here. You want to see?” she said.

  “Ooh, ooh, I do” said Phillip.

  “Here you go” she said as she handed him the paper bag containing the Wolf’s head.

  “Huh?” Phillip said.

  “What?” George said.

  “I expected him to look bigger for some reason.”

  “Well, he’s missing his body so you probably don’t have a good point of reference to compare him to” George replied.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Oh, hold on, I know! Hey, Johnny, whose head is bigger?”

  I looked up to see Phillip holding the head of Daniel next to his and awaiting my verdict as to whose was bigger.

  “His is.”

  “What? No way” Phillip said and actually looked quizzically at the severed Wolf’s noggin.

  “Yep, his head’s definitely bigger” said George.

  “Huh? Hey, do I have a small head, Trudy?”

  “No, Phillip, your head is perfect sized” she said, and he seemed pleased, so he put the head back in the bag and sat back to enjoy the ride.

  “Hey, George?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “Was that…?”

  “Yes, Johnny, it was.”

  “Then we’re…”

  “Yes, we’re back in freaking Waxahachie again.”

  We arrived back at my apartment at the same time Detective Nat Hallowed did so we pulled up, hopped out and did the ‘Hey, Nat’ greeting all Aliens get when visiting my domicile. We entered my apartment and Nat started to catch us up on what he gleaned from his investigation into the financial wheelings and dealings of Peter North.

  “I’m going to wash this make-up off” I said.

  “Why?” George said which I ignored.

  “You look sexy” Phillip said which I also ignored.

  I walked through my bedroom, entered my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I resembled a transvestite superhero with smeared eye make-up due to my dash away from the tower which made it appear I was wearing a bluish mask around my eyes. I sighed, reached to turn on the hot water in the sink but stopped because I heard a rustle coming from my walk-in closet. I walked over, opened the door and saw… Bob’s butt sticking in the air with the rest of his torso bent over so his neck and shoulders were in the decorative bag containing his head.

  “Hey, stop that!” I yelled for what reason I had no idea but it seemed he was doing something devious so I did and I’ll be darned if the dang thing didn’t straighten up lickety-split with the bag still on its shoulders and its back facing me. I don’t know if it retained any brain function or not but it appeared to be trying to hide in plain sight by not moving and standing stock still in order to remain unseen. I reached up ever so gently, quietly grasped the bag and yanked it off to reveal… Bob’s head staring back at me with a shocked expression on its face; a head facing backwards.

  He was looking at me with his beady eyes and I could tell he had some semblance of who I was because he began screaming at me; you know, in the shrieky way Zombies do after they’re ripped apart. But he was shrieking at me backwards and I guess he didn’t retain enough brain activity to both shriek and move correctly because after shrieking he tried attacking but kept running into the wall at the rear of the closet because he couldn’t figure out his head was on backwards. His hands were still duct-taped so I didn’t need to worry about them but his torso had found enough leverage to partially loosen the tape around his legs so he had the ability to kind of do a shuffle; like when your pants are down around your ankles and you need to get something a little too far away but you don’t want to take the time to properly pull them up so you stand up and shuffle until you’ve gotten what you wanted. Uh-huh, that’s what old Bob was doing except he was doing it into a wall. He would get this determined look on his face, shriek like a banshee and then shuffle into the wall behind him, or in front of him if you’re using his torso as a directional reference. He would shriek, shuffle, hit that wall, stumble back, get a confused look on his face, take a second and repeat the whole process again.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yes, Phillip?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Watching Bob run into a wall.”

  “Oh, can I watch?”

  So we stood there, two grown men watching another grown man go from a determined maniacal killer into a confused one all i
n the span of about three shuffles. Over and over again we watched and I’ve got to admit I started to root for the old guy, sort of hoping maybe, just maybe, he could get his head on straight and figure out his feet were on backwards but, alas, he never did and the last thing I remember about the greatest salesman Industrial Products ever employed was him shrieking and shuffling before Phillip gently shut the door.

  “What’ll happen to him?” I asked.

  “He’ll wear down and die away” Phillip replied.

  “He won’t come out of the closet?”

  “No, his head’s not on right.”

  “So, we’re just going to leave him in my walk-in?”

  “Yep.”

  “Phillip?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “If I ever become a Zombie, promise you won’t let me end up like that.”

  “I promise.”

  “Phillip?”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “I didn’t mean I wanted you to rip me up or anything. I was thinking along the lines of letting me pass away in a lawn chair or something.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

  “Thank you for lying to me, Phillip.”

  “You’re welcome, Johnny.”