by Terry Yates
As it got closer, Denny could feel the dust from the dog’s sniffing, hitting the back of his neck and his hair, both of which, were covered in sweat. The dog couldn’t have been more than six inches away from him before he heard it stop. After a moment of silence, he could feel the thing sticking its nose up to the back of his neck. It was cold against his skin. The dog sniffed once more at the back of his neck. If Denny hadn’t been so scared shitless, it would’ve tickled.
As the creature sniffed Denny, it made a high growling sound. But it also made a sound that didn’t really sound like a dog…or any animal for that reason. It would growl, then go into a high gurgle, then a squeal. It sounded almost like…a baby! Denny didn’t know if it was possible to lie any stiller than he was at that moment, or to shut his eyes any tighter, but he was going to play possum better than any possum had ever attempted.
Denny lay as prone as possible while the thing began to check him out. It began to sniff the back of his neck again, but this time it was fast, like a dog might do when it thinks it has found something sniff-worthy. It sniffed the back of his hair, then began to move up to his ear. The “sniff” “sniff” “sniff” of the animal became faster as it reached his ear. It sniffed hardily around his outer ear, but stopped when it reached Denny’s ear-hole. It sniffed, then made a small snort, Thing mucus splattering his ear. Denny was about to come unnerved as the thing breathed in and out for a few seconds, then stopped. He could feel it panting as it was obviously looking down his ear. It sniffed around for a moment, then began to move down his hair to the back of his neck again. He felt the cold nose on his neck as it once more smelled the back of it. Denny felt that something was up when the sniffing stopped, and the thing placed its wet cold nose against the nape of his neck. He then felt something warm and sandpapery moving up and down against his skin. The motherfucker was licking him. More than likely, it was licking the sweat off of him. It wasn’t just the creature’s tongue that was creeping him out, but while it was licking him, he could feel its hot breath as it breathed through its mouth. It was like a panting dog, but it didn’t seem like any dog he could think of. He’d noticed that the nose and the tongue were both touching his neck at the same time telling him that it had a short nose, not the long snout that those…what were they? He had no real time to ponder this, because he was too busy trying not to scream as loud as his sixteen-year-old self would allow. The tongue mixed with the mouth breathing breath was becoming more than he could bear.
Denny tried not to tremble. He didn’t want this thing to get one inkling that he was alive. When the creature stopped for a few seconds, Denny thought that it might be satisfied that he was indeed a dead possum. That thought didn’t last long though for Denny felt it reach up with its arm/foreleg and place it on his shoulder, and then began to try to roll him over. He clenched his eyelids shut while trying to shift his weight forward, making it hard for the animal to roll him over. The thing grunted as it pulled on him harder, but Denny kept shifting his weight toward the ground. The animal began to pull harder and grunt louder, no longer sounding like a puppy, but more like a spoiled child. He also noticed that, as the thing pulled on him, its paw didn’t feel like a paw. It was wrapped around his bicep…like a human hand. But it wasn’t human, because he could feel several sharp claws starting to dig into his arm as it pulled and yanked, in its continuous effort to roll him over.
It was beginning to pull on him so hard that he was having to tense up, and almost pull against the little beast to keep from being pulled all the way over. It was grunting loudly now in that high baby yell. As it pulled, grunted, and wailed, it dug its claws harder into his arm. Denny wanted to scream. Actually, he wanted to roll over and kick the shit out of it, but he didn’t know if the thing was dangerous, not to mention the fact that Denny Lusk had never been known as a tough guy. He’d had his ass kicked several times over the years, most of those ass poundings had happened since he’d decided to become a Goth and dress in dark pants and tee-shirt, with cornered toe boots, and a long black leather Duster jacket. Along with the white makeup, black lipstick, eyeliner, and black nails, he and his friends were the target for every BB, pellet, crabapple, horse apple, and cow chip that lay within arms length. He would bide his time with this thing as long as he could, but he wasn’t sure how long that would be. It was pulling on him with all of its might now, and that bratty puppy/baby growling was becoming unnerving, not mention the fact that it could very well be letting those two big bastards know where a little mouse was still hiding.
Just when Denny thought that he was going to have to either turn over and face the creature, or roll out from under the house and just start hauling ass toward the woods, the thing stopped tugging on him. The relief was short lived, because the animal moved its mouth again down to the back of his neck. Oh great, the rapid sniffing was starting up again on his neck. This time was different though, because the sniffing didn’t last too long before it stopped. He felt its cold nose again rubbing against his nape. It let out a small snort this time before Denny felt its gross sandpaper tongue, but this time it wasn’t licking his whole neck, it just moved back and forth in one small area. After a few moments of this, the tongue stopped moving, but stayed on his neck. It was at that moment, that Denny Lusk knew that he was going to have to do something, because it was what he also felt on his neck that began to give him pause. He felt four, tiny, razor sharp…he was guessing teeth…against his neck. They felt like little pins surrounding the tongue. The pressure of the teeth on his neck was beginning to really smart, and he knew that if he didn’t do something, whatever the thing was, was going to take a bite out of him. He was just going to have to roll away and hope for the best. He could feel the thing swallow, and Monster drool began to run down his neck. Keeping his head still, Denny slowly began to twist his body downward so he could roll away quicker and just hope he had the element of surprise. When he felt all four teeth stop touching his skin, he guessed that it was opening its mouth wide to take a big chomp out of him. Denny took a deep breath and tensed up. He was going to have to move and move fast. He took two deep breaths and began to spring into action, but before he could, Denny Lusk heard the scariest, most frightening sound he had heard in his sixteen years. First one, then the other creature let out howls that tore through the darkness. They were loud, shrill, and sounded exactly like wolves. This was Oklahoma. Wolves ran rampant and were even revered by all of the Indian tribes. He had heard them howl as close as his back yard, but never did they sound that loud…that ominous. They were so loud in fact, that Denny flinched. He hadn’t been expecting the howl, and the sheer volume of it spooked him, causing him to stiffen which made his legs and feet kick backwards a few inches. The thing’s tongue was no longer there, but its hand/paw was still on his arm, and its claw was still dug into his skin. He couldn’t see what the creature was doing, but it seemed to Denny that it was choosing between the howls and the food. Those things must be its parents. He was assured of this when another two howls blasted loudly. The thing tightened its grip on his bicep, but wasn’t pulling on him. Denny was guessing that it was looking back and forth from those things to Denny. The thing let out a yelp…almost like a spoiled child. It rocked him hard a few more times, its claws digging into his skin even further. He wanted to scream, so he bit his lip as it kept rocking him. Two more howls came, but Denny hardly heard them. The creature’s yelping, the pain of the small needle-like claws in his arm, and the blood pounding in his ears were all the Denny Lusk was hearing. He bit down on his lip harder as he rocked back and forth for what felt like an eternity, shifting his weight forward as he had before.
Suddenly, he stopped moving. The thing then shook him hard, gave one last angry grunt, and let go of him. Denny lay still, relieved of the pain of the claws. He listened as the thing scuttled away toward the front of the house. After a few seconds, he heard a loud snarl from the road along with the sound of several sets of claws scraping across the blacktop, followed by heavy footfalls. W
ere they leaving? Before Denny could answer his own question, the creature’s let out one last howl, then nothing for several minutes. He wasn’t sure, but at one point, it sounded like they were moving down the blacktop. A few minutes later, he heard rustling in the woods behind the Hagen and Berry houses. He wasn’t sure if it was the creatures or not, and didn’t care, because Denny Lusk wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER 29
The werewolf known as Simon Shoals, reared its large head back, and howled at the moon. It felt exhilarated. It brazenly walked down the sidewalk, which had been littered with little, red-eyed, two-leggers only minutes before, but once it left the alleyway where it had killed its first two-legers, its bloodlust was up and it had no fear. As soon as it had stepped up on the sidewalk, it had grabbed the first one that it saw. It was a female. The werewolf snatched the little female straight up into the air by her shoulders as other two-leggers began to run away in fright. She’d had her back turned to it, and had just started to turn around, when it was on top of her. It screamed and squirmed as it dangled in front of the beast. It could feel the female’s water hitting the sidewalk and splashing against its feet. She kicked hard at it as it pulled her close to its mouth. Her screaming had stopped after the beast had closed off her trachea. As if it had done it a thousand times before, the werewolf opened its mouth, sent both top and bottom fangs into the little animal’s neck, and tore out its throat. The mix of blood and flesh sent it into a bloodlust frenzy as it tossed the dead two legger away, its body smashing against a wall, the look of terror still etched upon its face. It gave another howl and began to stomp down the long sidewalk, swatting down each awning that it passed. Once in a while, it would snatch up a two-legger that hadn’t gotten away quickly enough, and usually tear their throats out. It didn’t know why, but it didn’t kill all of the two-Leggers that it snatched. Some it tore apart, and others, it just bit, then threw away.
It had no reason or thought process, but it knew that it liked killing, and it knew that it was a loner…a Lobo. And the Lobo had no fear. It loved destruction. Everything was new to the beast, but at the same time, it felt like it had been alive for centuries. It had millions of years of evolution inside it. It knew of its forefathers traveling in packs, hunting bison, and even early man if they got hungry enough. They owned the night and ruled whatever world they decided they wanted. One in ten thousand becomes a lobo, a creature that cannot live and work within the confines of the pack, and leaves to live a solitary existence, an existence that it loves…that it thrives in. No loneliness for the Lobo. It will find companionship for a while, then move on to live in the desert until it needs food, and then it becomes King of all Beasts. No animal could beat it then and no animal can beat it now.
The werewolf moved down sidewalk after sidewalk, destroying anything and anyone in its path. It had tasted blood and although it was sated food-wise, it wasn’t sated carnage wise. The concrete cracked below its stomping feet. It broke windows until it cut itself on a plate glass window that it had just swatted a two-legger through.
Although the streets emptied as the werewolf moved through them, the night sounded even louder than it had just minutes before. There were screams mixed with high shrills that seemed to be coming from every stone hut on the path. Normally, the shrills might have hurt its canine ears, but there was too much blood pounding in them. Every few minutes, it would stop and howl at the bright orange moon that even shone through the smog that night. It filled the monster with both rage and ecstasy as it tore through the L.A. night. It jumped on the iron shells that many of the two-Leggers emerged from, scattering them in all directions of the large stone path. It jumped from one of the shells to the other before landing in the middle of the stone path. The Lobo stood alone, chest thrust out, canine shoulders forward, and mouth as wide open as it could get. Its bloody fangs gleaming, it let out a howl that caused many of the little shells come alive with different high shrill sounds. It didn’t care. The psychopath/werewolf that was Simon Shoals, although he couldn’t realize it, was living his dream.
CHAPTER 30
Denny Lusk’s arm was asleep. The sun was up and still he had not moved. He’d kept his back to Everton Blacktop Road and its subsequent carnage for hours. It wasn’t like in the movies where you saw someone after a long time lapse, either knocked out or asleep after a harrowing experience, not so for Denny. He had lain awake all night listening to the final growls, howls, and screams. He’d wondered how the night had gone from hanging out and getting high with his friends, to lying under a house for over six hours. He’d only noticed about an hour ago that he had to pee something fierce, but an hour ago, it had been dark and he hadn’t even thought about the prospect of moving. He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t necessarily mean nothing was there. He had decided that he wasn’t going anywhere until someone drove up and was still alive five seconds later. He was staying put and screw everything and everybody.
He heard Rhonda Weaver’s first moan of pain, which startled him because he had not heard a sound other than a rooster crowing and a few dogs barking from Old Man Miles’ farm in a long time. He wasn’t sure that he had heard it at first, but when she let go another groan, followed by what sounded like ‘Marshall’, he knew it was Mrs. Weaver. He wished that she would shut up in case those things were still around. There were another few moments of silence, then came a longer wail. Shit!
Denny let out a groan as he began to roll over onto his back. His arm and his hand didn’t want to move with the rest of the body. They were completely dead. He’d lain on them half the night. He took his left hand and tried to rub the dead right one. It grossed him out because it felt like he was touching someone else’s hand. He felt a few tingles, but this might take a while. Denny rolled over onto his stomach, pulling the dead arm with him. Ah, there it was. The feeling was coming back into his arm and hand, and it was coming at a high rate of speed, so fast in fact, that the warm tingling felt like hot needles shooting through them. He tried to muffle the hissing, but it was almost impossible. He puckered his lips and puffed his cheeks out, but it was useless. The air hissed out from between his lips to where he sounded like a teakettle. He’d managed to lay completely prone for most of the night, and he couldn’t keep a hiss in. Denny had pretty much figured out that the monsters had left. It was quiet, and they weren’t quiet about anything.
“Ah…son-of-a-bitch,” he groaned rubbing his arm hard. There, he’d spoken. He’d not heard the sound of his voice since the night before when he’d told Sarah to move out of his way. Sarah, Rocky, and of course, Josh McClewn, his best friend since kindergarten were all dead now. He was amazed at his calm. He supposed six hours was plenty of time to go both in and out of shock.
Rhonda Weaver groaned again as Denny rubbed his hand one last time, and then began to slowly crawl toward the front of the house. As he neared the edge of the house, he stopped and tried to see any movement coming from…well…anywhere. He saw a lot of red, and things that were probably parts of his neighbors. He heard flies buzzing in the early morning dew. He looked to his right and saw movement. It was Mrs. Weaver. She was lying on her side facing him, eyes closed. Denny figured that if those things were still around, they would have killed her by now. He ducked his head low, trying to see if anything or anyone still alive was about. Seeing no one or nothing, he slid his head out from under the old house. Even though the summers in Oklahoma are generally hot and humid, the breeze that hit Denny’s face was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life, with the possible exception of his night with Ellen Weaver…who was probably dead now, too.
He closed his eyes and let the breeze blow on his face a moment longer before crawling out from under the house. He stayed still on his stomach as he surveyed the area for signs of whatever those things were, then groaned as he made his way to his hands and knees. The morning breeze encompassed his entire body. His legs were slightly cramping from having lain in the fetal position for so long, and he still had some tingling in
his hands, but he hardly noticed. This breeze just felt too good as it blew through his hair, which was soaking wet and hanging down into his face, and his black tee shirt was stuck to his skin. He hadn’t realized how hot it had been under the house.
He crawled over to Rhonda Weaver who had passed out. She was still on her side, her arm draped over her stomach. He could see that her shirt was torn open, her white bra exposed. Denny could see blood seeping out from under her forearm. He slowly lifted her arm, and then gently pulled back the bottom of her shirt, which stuck to the wound because the blood had coagulated. He grimaced at the sound of the sticking shirt and continued to pull it back until it exposed the wound, which was huge.
“Shit…” he said softly.
Denny sat up on one knee and looked around. Most of these houses had First-Aid kits, including his own, but he had no real desire to go into any of them. Those things might be gone, but he also didn’t want to see what they left behind.
When Denny finally stood up, he felt the cramps in his calves coming back. He closed his eyes for a moment and grunted, breathing through his mouth. When the pain subsided, he opened his eyes. Surveying the area, Denny finally got to see the full extent of the destruction that the beasts had left behind…then he bent over and vomited.
CHAPTER 31
Kyler awoke to the sound of the television set blaring loudly, followed closely by Lauren shaking him even further awake.
“Dr. Kyler! Dr. Kyler!”
Kyler’s eyeballs rolled back into their sockets as the pain in his back suddenly hit him. He had lain on the floor, and his back wasn’t feeling so good after having been thrown into the yard by the Inbred Crowd just the day before.
