FULL MOON COUNTRY (FULL MOON SERIES (vol. 2))

by Terry Yates

  As Simon dangled, he noticed the werewolf’s clawed feet below him. The feet! He could hear the beast open its mouth again. It was now or never. He’d be dead after the next bite if he didn’t do something right then. Simon put both hands around the sword handle and lifted it to his chin. Grasping it as tightly as he could, Simon plunged the sword into the werewolf’s foot with all of his might. The werewolf turned its nose to the ceiling and howled in pain, dropping him to the floor. Simon hung onto the sword as he fell, causing the blade to sink farther into the foot. He continued to hang on the sword as he hit the floor. He rolled forward, causing the blade to tear sideways into the foot, and then straight up, causing the animal to roar in agonizing pain. The werewolf stumbled backwards, still screaming. Simon pulled the sword from its foot, and then tried to stand, but his leg was useless, so he began to scoot backwards across the room.

  After a moment, the creature stopped howling and looked at him with a murderous glare. It snarled and began to limp toward Simon as he continued to butt scoot backwards across the floor. After a few seconds, he hit the wall just under the windowsill. He was trapped now with no place to go. The werewolf stood over him and snarled. As it reached down for him, Simon swung the sword at its leg, hitting it just below the knee. It howled as its leg began to buckle. Simon followed this with a slash across its stomach. The thing was down on one knee now and holding its stomach. Simon could tell that the creature was just stunned, and was making its way back up into a standing position. He moved to the side of the beast as it was starting to rise. He swung the sword blindly, hitting the thing in the shoulder and then on its arms. Simon continued to slash at the thing, too dark to tell what he was connecting with, but connecting all the same. He could see the thing bending over in the dark. He had hurt it! Using the sword for leverage, Simon put his uninjured leg under his body, while moving the injured one out to the side. Hanging onto the sword, he pushed down with all of his might, and began to pull himself up to his feet. The werewolf took a swipe at Simon with its large claws, barely missing his ribcage.

  Finally, Simon got to his feet. He stood on his uninjured leg, while still keeping the injured one out to the side. As the beast was attempting to rise again, Simon balanced himself on his good foot, and then lifted the sword above his head. With all of his might, he brought the blade down on the back of the werewolf’s neck, sending the blade deep into it. The creature let out another roar of pain as Simon pulled the blade out of its neck. Once again, he raised the sword above his head, and once again, he brought it down on the werewolf’s neck. This time, the blade buried itself deep into its neck. Again, the beast howled, but Simon could no longer hear it. He removed the sword again and started wildly slashing at the werewolf’s neck. He could feel its warm blood splashing all over his face as he continued to slash blindly.

  As he cut, the monster began slowly sinking to the floor. It was no longer howling in rage and pain. It could only grunt as Simon continued to hack at it. When he saw that its head was at chest level, Simon lifted the sword one last time and brought it down, this time severing its head, which rolled between his feet as its mammoth body hit the floor.

  Simon raised his fist and screamed in triumph…and then fell to the floor unconscious.

  CHAPTER 8

  Michael Blum grunted as his cast landed hard on the examining table.

  “Sorry about that, Mike,” Kyler said wincing.

  He found himself suddenly reminded of that morning several weeks ago when he’d knocked Michael off of the examining table, causing a second break in his leg after having just put a cast on him.

  “How’s the cast holding up?” he asked.

  “Okay, I guess. It just…“

  “Itches, I know,” said Kyler, finishing his sentence for him.

  Damn, this kid was tough. Two breaks in his leg, and four days of running on it, and all he has complained about is the itch. Kyler guessed that if he had gone through what Michael Blum had gone through, he would’ve been spitting out expletives way before the itching had started.

  He couldn’t believe that he had been such a bratty, snot of a kid when he’d met him. He yelled and screamed and demanded that he be waited on first, because his father, Arnold Blum, owned everything and everybody, and they didn’t want to get on his father’s bad side. He had been knocked down a few pegs after figuring out that his parents had left the island on the rescue copters without him. That boiled Kyler’s blood. How could anyone leave their twelve-year old son to fend for himself? What burned him up even more, was the fact that his parents know that he’s here and still haven’t come to get him yet. The last news report that Kyler had seen on his little television, showed Arnold Blum-billionaire, entrepreneur, all around good guy, and who knew…maybe a politician one day, landing his personal helicopter off the new Mississippi coast, and walking around like Jesus, making sure that the cameras saw him helping out the homeless and distraught, mostly elderly black people and what most people would refer to as white trash. He made sure the cameras saw them flock to him, crying and kissing his hand. God, the phony smile on the guy. What the hell, he thought to himself. If something gets done, who cares what the motive is.

  “What are you thinking about, Dr. Kyler?”

  “Hmm…” Kyler looked up and saw that boy was looking at him, his glasses sitting askew on his face. They were slightly bent from all the wear and tear on the island. He didn’t know how the kid had even kept them on his face after all he’d been through.

  “Oh…nothing,” he lied, smiling his own phony smile. “I was just looking at all of the celebrities that have signed your cast.” Kyler looked deep into the boy’s eyes. “You didn’t tell any of them what…you know…happened on the island?”

  “Are you kidding me, Doctor?” Michael answered, his face contorted. The itching must have started up again. “What would you say if you were signing a twelve-year olds cast, and he blurted out…I got chased by werewolves on a secret military base.”

  “I see your point.”

  “Do you miss her?” Michael asked, after an awkward moment of silence.

  “Miss her…who?”

  “Come on, Dr. Kyler. You know who I’m talking about…Miss LeMarque.”

  “What about Miss LeMarque?” he asked, pretending to look at Michael’s cast.

  Kyler looked up at Michael, who was giving him the same look that his first grade teacher had given him when he had denied eating his paste. One eyebrow was almost touching his hairline, his nostrils were flared, and he had what looked to Kyler like an Elvis sneer plastered across his face.

  “Oh…you mean, Zora…well…yeah sure…I…you know…miss her…sure…I guess…a little bit,” he stuttered.

  “She sure was pretty,” Michael told him, his face returning to normal.

  “Yeah…you know…eh…she was okay.”

  “Come on, Dr. Kyler!”

  “What!”

  Kyler couldn’t believe he was being defensive toward a twelve-year old. Michael shook his head in exasperation.

  “What was she a scientist of?” he asked Kyler.

  “What?”

  “Miss LeMarque…Zora…When we met her she told us that she was a scientist, but she never said what she was a scientist of.”

  Kyler hadn’t told anyone that Zora wasn’t a real scientist, but instead, a member of the ancient order of the Knights of Kravania, a group thousands strong, who monitor the whereabouts of werewolves and other things that walk unnoticed through the hidden terrains and dense forests of the world.

  “I’m not sure”, he lied. “I never really found out.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  Kyler was feeing increasingly more uncomfortable and, at the same time, a little sad as he thought about her.

  “I suppose she needed to be moving on. She might’ve found another job and had to leave immediately. Who knows?”

  “She didn’t tell you she was leaving?”

  “She…no,” Kyler answered, loo
king down and shaking his head.

  Michael sympathized greatly with the doctor who had been walking around like a zombie ever since Zora had left. He knew exactly how he felt. He also had that empty feeling now that went along with losing someone that you cared about.

  “Doctor, do think that…maybe Lauren’s all right?”

  Kyler looked back up in the boy’s eyes.

  “I hope so,” Kyler answered, trying to not sound too worried. “She’s pretty resilient, our Lauren.”

  The two sat in an awkward silence, both gazing down at Michael’s cast. The age difference between them had disappeared for a moment. They were just two males, both feeling pangs of emptiness and loss.

  The silence was broken by the sound of the door creaking open. The two looked up to see Gen. Mueller standing in the doorway with a big smile on his face.

  “What is it, General?” Kyler asked, perplexed at the uncomfortable smile on the man’s face.

  “Mr. Blum…you’re parents will be arriving tonight,” he answered.

  CHAPTER 9

  Simon groaned loudly. Pain seemed to encase his entire body. He opened his eyes to find himself on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The morning sunlight streamed through the room, telling him that at least it was morning. At first, he wasn’t sure of where he was or why he was in such pain, until he noticed the broken ceiling bulb. The wolf!

  Simon slowly sat up into a sitting position, excruciating pain shooting up through the back of his right leg. He looked down at his leg. The front of his jeans were covered with dry, matted blood. There was a tear in the knee, but that might’ve been there before the creature picked him up like a little rag-doll and bit the shit out of his thigh and calf. He lifted up his hip to try and get a look at the back of his leg. The only thing he could see was the loose denim that had been torn away. He gently reached under his thigh and felt around the hole in his pants. He winced as his hand touched the large, open wound. He started with the outside of the wound, where he could feel large strips of torn and shredded flesh surrounding what he knew to be a large hole. He hissed as he tenderly touched the top of the wound and ran his fingers along the top of what felt like a hole the size of a football. He could feel his wet and moist blood on his fingers as lightly ran his fingers across his exposed thigh muscle. Jesus, it was huge! How had he survived the night with so much blood loss?

  Groaning, he leaned to the side and pulled his leg out to the side, where he could actually see his calf. It had been bad enough just feeling the thigh wound, but he could actually see the wound to his calf. There was hardly any loose skin at all around this wound. The thing must’ve taken a clean bite, taking skin and all as he bit down. Like the thigh wound, there was huge, ugly hole. Half of the muscle was gone, eaten away. He could see bits of carpet and even dust bunnies sticking to it. What he could see of the back of his leg was covered with dried blood. He could feel his leg hairs pulling with every movement. Shit, he needed a doctor, but he couldn’t risk having anyone come out here.

  Simon surveyed the room. His blood soaked mattress lay cattycornered against the corner wall, the white stuffing poking out through the enormous claw marks that ran across the complete expanse of the bed. From just behind the bed, he could see the top of a head, lying on its side, as if it was trying to sneak a peak at him. Two other heads lay in view, but he couldn’t remember their names. The box spring part of the bed had been thrown through the closet doors. His nightstand had been smashed to splinters by the thing’s giant fist. Only his bed frame remained in place. There were two more heads inside the frame…it looked like Brandy and a girl who he thought said her name was Chloe.

  He looked at the other side of the room, which was in just as much disarray. His bedroom window was smashed, as was his window unit air conditioner, which had been sitting in it. Simon looked at his chest of drawers that had been toppled to the floor, its contents scattered about. Behind the chest, he saw a pair of naked, hairy legs, whose feet were pointed straight at the ceiling.

  Simon began to crawl on his side, dragging his right leg behind him, toward the legs. He knocked two more severed heads out of his path as he crawled, the pain in his leg still throbbing. As he made his way around the chest, he was met by the lifeless stare of Scott’s severed head. It was looking straight at him, accusingly. It was lying next to his naked body. He hadn’t gotten away after all. But where was the werewolf? When he’d fought the thing, Scott wasn’t anywhere around, and to the best of his recollection, was wearing clothes.

  Simon shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Think. Think. Think. What exactly happened last night? He tried to recall the events of the night before in chronological order. He put him in his own bedroom until he decided to kill…he hogtied him…put the heads in front of him…stabbed him in the back, the ass, and finally in the gut. He was never naked during that time. What had he forgotten? He tried to think for a moment, and then he remembered Scott telling him about the eight-foot-walking werewolves…and the infant werewolf.

  “Shit…” Simon muttered aloud.

  He looked back toward the closet where he had set up his video camera. He could see one of the tripod’s legs sticking out from under the box spring. He left Scott’s headless body and began to drag himself toward the closet. He hardly noticed the blinding pain in his leg as he pulled himself across the room. His mind was on the video camera.

  When he got to the closet, he reached behind the box spring, and turned it over, the bed landing half in and half out of the frame. The video camera was lying on its side. Two of the tripod’s legs were crushed, but not the camera itself. Simon picked up the camera and removed it from the tripod. Cradling the camera to his chest, Simon butt scooted his way to the wall. He straightened out his legs and leaned his back against it. He reached over and grabbed the only pillow that seemed to have survived the chaos. He put it under his injured leg, wincing as he did. Simon shifted the camera around in his hands until it was right side up, and facing lens out. He opened the monitor, careful not to get blood on it. He brought the camera up to his face so he could see the buttons. He pressed ‘rewind’ and listened as the tape whirled backwards. He gave it about fifteen seconds before he pressed the ‘stop’ button, followed by the ‘play’ button. When the screen came to life, there was Scott lying on the bed, his arms behind his back and his legs bent so far back, they were almost touching his back. The rope was pulled tight around his neck, but Simon couldn’t see his face, because his head was turned away from the camera. The sword was sticking out of his abdomen. He could hear noises coming from the bathroom. Perfect. Simon pushed the ‘fast forward’ button and stared at the screen. After no more than five seconds, he saw Scott’s body twitch. Simon immediately pushed ‘play’ and then hit ‘rewind’. He saw the body twitch again, and ran the camera to just a few seconds before it, and pushed ‘play’. He watched for a few seconds as Scott lay motionless. After a moment, he saw the part where Scott’s body twitched. His bound, right arm moved, followed by his head twitching ever so slightly, but then nothing for a moment. As he was about to fast-forward again, he saw something move on Scott’s back. Another twitch…not a twitch, but more of a spasm, just below his right shoulder, this time. Then he saw another spasm just below his left shoulder, then another and another.

  All at once, he saw one giant spasm that made his body start to convulse so violently that the ropes began to stretch. He could actually see the ropes giving way as the corpse continued to convulse. The sword remained in his abdomen, but was shaking to the point that Simon thought it might come loose. Then Scott’s head turned toward the camera. His eyes were open, but they no longer had the lifeless stare. Even though the night vision made gave everyone’s eyes that shark look, his were moving. He was alive! He couldn’t be, but he was.

  Simon watched transfixed as Scott’s mouth opened in a silent scream. He looked at the cheek that had been so viciously torn away from his face. The gaping hole that had once been there was gone. It was compl
etely healed! Come to think of it, he hadn’t noticed the wound when he had just seen Scott’s severed head. Had he missed it?

  Simon looked away from the camera for a moment and rubbed his eyes. This was some weird shit, he though to himself. What he saw when he looked back at the monitor, made him almost drop the camera. Much of Scott’s body…including his face was now covered with hair.

  “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed aloud.

  He watched as Scott began to grunt, the rope still tight around his neck. That’s probably why he hadn’t heard him when he was in the bathroom. The rope had been cutting off his windpipe, so he couldn’t scream. Simon noticed something in Scott’s open mouth. Fangs. The man had fangs now that seemed to be growing before his eyes. His forehead also began to recede as something, he wasn’t sure what, began to push its way up through his face, forcing its way through the nasal area.

  Simon continued to watch what had once been a corpse, snap the ropes that bound it. The fur covered animal that had once been the redneck car salesman, rolled onto its back, now looking like it did when Simon had fought with it. It now had canine ears, large fangs, and a long doglike nose. That’s what had been pushing its way up through its face…the nose. It’s body was longer, too. Simon had been too busy watching its face and upper body to notice that it had grown over two feet in height. The last thing he saw on camera, was the animal reaching down and taking the sword out of its abdomen, grunting more out of annoyance than pain and throwing it aside. That’s probably the sound of breaking glass that he’d heard when he was in the bathroom. The sword must’ve hit the light bulb.