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

by Terry Yates

  Not getting the ‘awww’s’ that he had expected, but instead met with unexpected blank stares, Kyler patted his thighs, whistled and walked toward the door.

  “You still haven’t told me what’s with the helmet, etc. etal.” He said to FranAnne, pointing to her holstered revolver.

  “I told you, soldier stuff, Doc…eh…Rich…please! I was told to come get you.”

  Kyler could see that he was frustrating FranAnne. Something wasn’t right about her.

  “All right. Let’s go then,” Kyler sighed, opening the door and holding it open.

  FranAnne shook her head in exasperation and walked through the door, followed by Kyler.

  “What’s going on, FranAnne?” Kyler asked as they both stepped off the small porch and out into the yard. “And don’t say soldier stuff.”

  “You’ll find out when you get to Gen. Mueller’s office,” she replied, trying to walk faster.

  “You know, I’m getting good and Goddamn sick of going to the General’s office. It seems that’s all I do anymore. I can hardly find it anymore, this place has gotten so crowded.

  FranAnne didn’t say anything, but continued walking. Kyler started to speak again, but noticed something strange going on around him. The place was loud with soldiers running all over the place. Officers were barking orders, none of which Kyler could understand, because of their speed. Some of them could say twenty words in a two second span. Amazing. The soldiers were carrying duffel bags, backpacks, and rifles, and all, of course, were wearing helmets. That couldn’t be good.

  “Eh…FranAAAnnneee?”

  “You’ll find out in a minute.”

  “It seems that everyone wants me, yet I’m in the dark about everything.”

  FranAnne remained silent.

  “FranAnne, something’s up. I’m about nine inches taller than you, and my legs are approximately three times the length of yours, yet I’m almost having to run just to keep up with you. You’re just like Potts.”

  “The General will fill you in. It’s just a little ways from here.”

  “You know, FranAnne…”

  Kyler was drowned out by what looked like a whole company of soldiers, men and women, running toward an army truck They were being “Hep! Hep’d” and “Hup! Hup’d” to death. When they reached the truck, they immediately tossed their gear into the back and followed close behind. Yep, something was definitely up and he bet it had something to do with werewolves.

  CHAPTER 41

  “You want me to wha-a-a-t?”

  Kyler had the expression of a man who’d been asked what a ‘Galipsnidjfiget’ was used for. He sat in the same chair across from Mueller’s desk, but this time the General was standing behind the desk and Potts, also dressed in combat fatigues, stood next to him. Both men were looking down at him.

  “We want you to go to Oklahoma…to help with the thing’s victims,” Mueller repeated, this time giving Kyler that John Wayne look again.

  Kyler did his best to suppress a long, loud, flat-out guffaw.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Kyler asked, looking up at the two most humorless men he had ever met.

  “No, I’m not kidding, Dr. Kyler. You have experience against them.”

  “Mmmhmmm…”

  “And you know what to look for as far as the victims go,” Potts added.

  “Exactly, Now what I don’t understand, is knowing all of this, I’m just curious to know what in GOD’S name would make you think I’d want to go anywhere near those things again?”

  “We need people. Col Potts will be personally in charge.”

  “You picked the right man, but why me? Why not Dr. Hebman or Willette…shit make Millard go. He left us high and dry on the island. I’d love to see him…”

  “Dr. Hebman is going to L.A. with our doctors. Dr. Willette and Millard will be staying here. I need doctors here, too.”

  Kyler stared up at the two men, then stood up.

  “Sorry, Gentlemen,” he said softly, “but I’ve stood so close to those things that I know what they smell like.”

  “And you don’t think I do?” Potts asked, looking up at Kyler with his bandaged face.

  Kyler had no comeback for that.

  “Besides,” he added, “I’m not leaving those kids here. There’s no telling where they might wind up.”

  “Those children will be fine here,” Mueller came back, his face growing increasingly red.

  “I’m sure you really believe that, General, but you can’t be everywhere all of the time. Sorry, Gentlemen.”

  “You know…” Mueller started, “I could conscript you. I could put you on a truck and make you go.”

  “That is true, General Mueller. You could put me on that truck, but once you and whoever else get me on said vehicle, you’re all going to be amazed at how long and painful a chore it was, not to mention the fact that I will make everyone’s life hell from that point on.”

  Mueller shot a quick glance at Potts, who had his one eye closed, his lips slightly puckered, and was slowly nodding his head.

  “I’ll put you in the stockade,” Mueller said pointedly.

  “It wouldn’t be far enough, Sir,” Potts sighed. “Forget it, Sir. We’ll find someone else.”

  “You said it yourself, Colonel. He’s cool in the field. We need someone out there like that.”

  Kyler could see that Potts was embarrassed by Mueller’s repeating of his compliment of Kyler’s ability under pressure, which in his case, he thought was nil. Cool in the field? He spent most of his time on the island either hiding from, or running from werewolves. He hadn’t made the brave stand that the other survivors and the Ball Cap Sunglasses Bunch had made. He’d been running from li'l Oliver Wolfgang Dixon after he’d taken off with his twin sister. If it hadn’t been for Joe cutting the little beast off and chasing it away, Kyler would’ve probably become either werewolf shit or worse…a werewolf himself. Dr. Richard Kyler-General Practitioner/Werewolf.

  “Sorry again, Gentlemen,” Kyler said, moving toward the door. “Remember Colonel, watch out for the quick healing wound, the massive strength, and the big brown eyeballs. Better make lots of silver bullets.”

  “It’s already been done,” Potts answered, matter of fact.

  “Ah, that’s what you and…I’m guessing FranAnne, have been up to. General…Colonel…I’ve been a doctor for four months now, the first three of which, went swimmingly, but in the last month, I’ve dealt with jet crashes, hurricanes, survivors of hurricanes and tsunamis, almost every disease imaginable, and werewolves, and I’ve gotta tell you, I’d take any of them all over again if I didn’t have to deal with the werewolves. I still can’t even get used to saying ‘werewolf’ out loud. So, in a nutshell, the answer’s no. Gentlemen.”

  Kyler forced a smile, nodded his head to the men, and then stepped out into the reception area, closing the door behind him. As he walked across the foyer, he could see Tara Mueller looking at him.

  “Have a good day,” he said forcing a smile, but never actually making eye contact.

  At that moment, Kyler didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He was tired of it all. He’d only been a doctor, what, a hundred and twenty days now. He signed up for the sick and infirmed, not werewolves. He’d had enough.

  Kyler walked out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. When he turned around, he was met by FranAnne.

  “Well,” she asked in her North Carolina drawl.

  “I’m not going, FranAnne,” he answered, walking passed her.

  “Really?” she retorted, turning around and yelling after him. “I honestly thought you would.”

  “And if I were you, I wouldn’t go either,” Kyler yelled back, walking backwards. You’ve seen what those things can do!”

  As he continued to walk backwards, he saw FranAnne wave and yell to him. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, so he just smiled and waved back…until he tripped over a tent line.

  CHAPTER 42

  Simon woke up fr
om a slight doze. It was early afternoon. He’d been given a bed a few hours earlier after some of the less injured victims of the night’s episodes had been released. He’d gone to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He did have a big day yesterday, what with driving all the way from Texas to L.A. in record time, since he hadn’t felt the need for sleep, plus of course, his first turning. It seems he’d had quite a night, so he guessed that the lack of sleep was catching up with him. He just wished that he could remember it. Again, all he saw were bits and pieces…a bright orange, smoggy moon, a screaming man here, a terrified girl there…but nothing concrete that he could lie back, put his arms behind his head, and smile about. He’d just have to make do with all of the reports coming in from rescuers, survivors, news, radio, laptops, and I-phones. He HAD been a busy boy.

  He was imagining what he had been like the night before…seven or eight feet tall, teeth like scythes, and an ability to stomp the shit out of pretty much anything and anybody, when he heard whispering next to him. With his hands still behind his head, he could see an old Mexican man looking at him and whispering. Actually, most of the man’s face was hidden behind the iron sidebars that went up and down…up when they were moving you, and down when you were stationary. It seemed that someone forgot to lower his sidebars and he was watching Simon through the bars. The old bastard muttered in Spanish. He spoke too softly for Simon to catch much of it, but what he did hear was “Hombre Lobo”…hah! Wolf Man! Well, he’d be a turd’s pappy! The old man had him pegged! He wasn’t a bite victim. He was either a scratch victim or a survivor from one of the other maladies. Somehow, this old bastard knew what Simon was without being infected. Sort of like the old woman he’d happened upon that morning. She also looked at him as if he were pure evil, though she probably had no idea just how evil.

  “Hombre lobo,” the man continued to mutter. “Hombre lobo.”

  Simon, still making eye contact with the old man, he smiled.

  “Si.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Kyler was finishing his rounds. He’d just stitched up a lip on a young lady who had just gotten into a fight with another young lady, who pulled her lip ring completely through her lower lip. Ah…kids today, he had thought, wincing the whole time.

  Kyler stopped, arched his back, and stretched as far back as his spine would allow, and then some. When he straightened up, he looked around. It’d been several hours now, but there were still military personal running amok, preparing for either Oklahoma or L.A. Good luck, people…and listen to Potts.

  He was about to take a step forward, when a large army truck, complete with the word ‘Army’ emblazoned in large white letters on its side, slowly moved passed him. He looked up at the driver. Was that FranAnne?

  “Hey FranAnne!” he yelled as she drove by, but instead of waving, she simply continued to move slowly forward. “FranAnne?”

  Behind that truck, came another one just like it. They both reminded Kyler of the old covered wagon, complete with canvas top and all. As he waited for them to move past, they suddenly stopped, one just behind the other, the grinding of the gears causing Kyler to put his fingers in his ears.

  He looked up to see the passenger door on the second truck open, and out jump a figure. He didn’t see who it was until they came around the front of the vehicle. It was Potts, who looked around for a moment, and then approached Kyler.

  “Colonel, I thought that you’d be gone by…”

  “Get in the truck,” Potts interrupted softly.

  “Wha?”

  “Get in the truck.”

  “Colonel…”

  “Get in the goddamned truck.”

  “Colonel, I told you…”

  “Get in the fuckin’ truck.”

  “I told you…”

  “Get in the truck.”

  “Stop it, Col. Potts! I’ve already told you ‘no’!”

  Kyler was standing his ground. Potts took off his helmet and wiped his brow.

  “Look in the truck,” Potts sighed, adjusting his eye-patch. “Just look inside the truck.”

  Kyler fumed at Potts for a moment, but seeing that the man seemed genuine, Kyler walked to the back of the last truck and opened the flap. He saw nothing but duffel bags, backpacks, and what he was guessing was food and medical supplies for both themselves and the victims. Confused, he poked his head around the truck.

  “This one, numbnuts,” Potts spoke through gritted teeth, while pointing at the front truck.

  Kyler chuckled nervously while moving past Potts. He stopped at the back of the front truck and threw the flap open. He had halfway expected to find it empty, whereupon Potts would hit him in the back of the head with a blackjack, and throw his ass into the truck, and take him to God Knew Where, Oklahoma. Instead, he received a bigger shock. Eleven sets of eyes were looking at him. The seven new children, Lauren, Zack, Sam Fong, who finger waived him, and even Peter Valkenberg, who seemed to take up most of the truck.

  “What’s going…”

  “Get in the truck, Kyler.” Potts said quietly, moving up next to him.

  “Colonel, I don’t understand.”

  “You said that you weren’t going anywhere without them, well, there they are. Fong, the Nelson…”

  “Olsen.”

  “Olson kid…and even the big Australian…”

  “German.”

  “Anyway, the rest of ‘em volunteered. Fulton up there had no choice.”

  “Why me, Colonel? I just don’t get it. It makes no sense! I’m everything that you don’t want to be saddled with. I’m a coward, I’m no good with guns, and I’m a coward.”

  Potts sighed, turned, and then began to walk away from the truck. After about twenty feet, he stopped and turned around. Kyler looked into the truck, sighed himself, then joined Potts.

  “Look, Kyler, I need people that have seen this type of thing. You, Fulton, and Fong have dealt with these things. I’ve talked to Gen. Mueller till I’m blue in the face about the dangerousness of these things. Now, if the only way I can get you to go is by kidnapping eight kids, then so be it.”

  “You didn’t tell Mueller?”

  “No, he’s so busy, he won’t miss ‘em. The bastard’s got a lot on his hands.”

  “That he does.”

  The two men stood awkwardly for a moment, Kyler looking at the ground, Potts looking at Kyler.

  “It’ll take me a few minutes to pack,” Kyler sighed, breaking the silence.

  “No, it won’t. Your gear’s been stowed in the back with everyone else’s,”

  Potts replied.

  Kyler wanted to kick him in the balls again like he’d done on the island for having the audacity to think he’d automatically come along…which, of course, was exactly what he was doing, but still…

  “I’m riding in the lead truck,” Potts told him. “You can either ride up front with Fulton, or ride in the back with your wards.”

  Kyler began to walk away, but Potts quickly grabbed his elbow and pulled him back to him.

  “Listen to me, Kyler. I am now also responsible for these people. By rights, I should just go without them, and you, for that matter, but here we are. Now if anything happens to them, I’m making you just as responsible. Coppice’?”

  Looking Potts in the eye, Kyler slowly nodded his head, then began to walk around the front of the truck. After a moment, he turned back to Potts.

  “Colonel, General Mueller seems to have forgotten about Joe’s magical saliva, but I’m guessing right about now, our debriefing papers are probably being looked at while we speak.”

  “God damn, I hate you so much some times, Kyler.”

  Potts and Kyler approached the gate, where they were met by an extremely happy Joe on one side of the fence, and a fairly suspicious looking young, African-American MP carrying a rifle on the other. Upon seeing Potts, the MP put the rifle to his chest.

  “Colonel Potts, Sir!” the young man roared, now clutching the rifle even closer to his chest.


  “What gave it away, Son, my walk?” Potts said as he approached him. “At ease, Soldier.”

  The young MP immediately dropped his rifle to his side and deflated a bit. Kyler began to unlatch the gate while trying to push Joe off of the fence.

  “Eh…Colonel?” the soldier asked, watching Kyler open the gate.

  “Yep?” Potts answered, now watching Joe jumping on Kyler in an attempt to lick his face.

  “Am I suppose to see some sort of orders or something, Sir?”

  “Hmm?” Potts hummed, now watching Kyler entangling himself in the dog’s leash while trying to put it on the dog’s collar.

  “The man that put me here…I think it was a captain…told me to stand here and watch the dog, and not let anyone see it until he got back.”

  “How long ago was this?” Potts asked. Kyler, still tangled in the leash, looked up.

  “About ten minutes ago, Sir.”

  Potts and Kyler gave each other a quick glance, and Kyler began to furtively unwind himself from the leash, while Joe was still taking tongue swipes at him.

  “How long have you been the Army, Soldier?” Potts asked, returning his gaze back up at the man, who was almost as tall as Kyler, but much more muscular than Kyler. This guy’s muscles actually went outward.

  “Six weeks basic in North Carolina, then here. I haven’t even unpacked my gear yet. That pooch must be important.”

  “Oh it is,” Potts came back, seeing that Kyler was completely free now of the leash. “Basic to here, huh? What’s your name, Soldier?”

  “Jefferson…Shawn…middle initial…”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” Potts said, waving him off. I bet you played football, didn’t you, Jefferson?”

  “Actually, no, Sir. I didn’t. I took gymnastics…and I graduated Magna Cum Laude.”

  “Didn’t play football, eh?”

  “No Sir.”

  “Bet you’re good with a rifle though, huh?”

  “I can shoot the eyes out of a dwarf mosquito, Sir.”