by Terry Yates
“That’s all I got, Pal-O-Mine,” Potts said, both palms open, trying to show the dog that he wasn’t lying. “What’s the matter…Kyler kick you out, did he? I saw you go in his tent a while back. Did he get enough of you, or did you get enough of him? Boy, do I know that feeling. He can try a man’s…or dog’s…patience, can’t he?”
Kyler was insulted. He thought that if they weren’t friends, they at least had a civil working relationship…and he meant that for both man and dog.
“He’s alright, I guess though, huh? A bit of a pain in the ass, but for the most part, a good egg. He can be counted on, no matter that he tries to lead you to believe otherwise.”
The shit he won’t, Kyler wanted to say, but held his tongue, because he was still moved by what Potts had said about him.
“Aren’t we a pair, you and me,” Potts said, again looking down at the dog. “Those fuckers really did a number on us, didn’t they? We both look like we got beat with the ugly stick…a number of times.”
Kyler had heard enough. He’d never been a real dropper of eaves, and he wasn’t about to start dropping them now. When he turned to leave, his foot came down hard on a stick, snapping it in two.
“Who’s there?” he heard Potts whisper/yell. Well, so much for checking his hearing.
Kyler, back still turned, dropped into a slight crouch, and began to walk backwards.
“Here , Joe! Here, Boy…” Kyler beckoned, still moving backwards, and whistling.
“Kyler, is that you?” Potts asked, an almost surprised tone in his voice.
“Oh!” Kyler lamely shrieked, pretending to be startled. “Col. Potts…is that you?”
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Well…I…uh…” Kyler stammered. “I had to take a whiz…um…yeah…had to pee like a Polish pony,” he laughed, nervously swing his arms back and forth.
“D’ya mean a Russian racehorse?”
“Yeah…yeah…Russian race horse…yep.”
“So, what did you need the dog for?”
“The dog? Oh! The dog. Well, I was done peeing, actually, and…uh…felt bad about kicking old Joe there out, so…I was just inviting him back?”
Kyler and Potts were no more than a dozen yards apart now, so under the moonlight, Kyler could see the Colonel’s face quite clearly, and could SEE quite clearly that Potts was searching his face for any sign that Kyler had heard him compliment him.
“And what were you going to coax him with?” Potts asked, noticing Kyler’s empty hands. “Good intentions?”
“Eh…” was all that escaped the doctor’s lips. “Out having a smoke, are ya’?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah,” Potts replied, taking one out of his breast pocket and handing it to Kyler.
“Thanks,” Kyler responded, timidly as Potts handed him his Zippo lighter. He knew that Potts would rather die than light Kyler’s cigar for him.
Kyler puffed hard as he lit his cigar. God, he loved that butane smell. God, he hated the smoke going up his nose and into his eyes. He gave two good coughs before managing to suppress a third.
“Jesus, Kyler! You’re gonna wake up the whole camp!”
“Sorry!” he gasped, his trachea cutting him off at the ‘y’.
Kyler rubbed his eyes with one hand and fanned away the smoke with the other. When both were cleared, he looked up to see that Potts and Joe had walked away a few feet from Kyler. With backs turned, Potts stood and Joe sat…both were looking up at the moon, Potts’ cigar smoke giving it an extra eerie effect.
“What do you call that moon?” Potts asked. “Crescent?”
“Eh…I think it may be a ¾ moon…I’m not sure,” Kyler answered, moving up to Potts’ right side…his bandaged side. Kyler could see that the man had indeed changed his bandages.
“Humph!” was all that Potts said in return.
The three stood silent, all still looking at the moon.
“It all started with us, didn’t it?” Kyler spoke first. “I mean…it all began on the island, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess…if you’re still under the impression that the Dixon’s got off of the island.”
“You don’t think they did then?”
“I don’t know, Kyler, but I did see that the girl was deader than Judas Iscariot.”
“But the…”
“Yes, I know. The tracks.”
“Well?”
“Well what about them?”
“Goddammit, I don’t know, Kyler,” Potts shot back, sighing an exasperated sigh. “All I know is what I’ve got to do in the here and now.”
“Just lower your head and bulldoze through it, huh?”
“Yeah…pretty much.”
“Did you bring the same type of weapons that you and Sam found in that secret room?”
“AK-47’s? Uzi’s?” Potts chuckled. “Those aren’t military issue. Any idiot knows that…yet, I continue to get criticized for it.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. No, I’m guessing those guns belonged to our baseball cap team.”
“Obviously working with the military.”
“Obviously. I think he was right though…your friend.”
“What friend?”
“Klefka.”
Kyler was stunned. He hadn’t expected to ever hear the name Klefka cross Potts’ lips.
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t he tell you that things were changing?”
Kyler had forgotten that he’d told Potts about watching a wounded Klefka looking across the ocean, and telling him about how things were changing.
“Yes, he did,” Kyler answered, softly.
“Well, he was right. It’s all changing, Dr. Kyler,” Potts said, looking back up at the moon. “And I think from here on out, nothing’s gonna be the same.”
CHAPTER 50
“Go ahead,” Potts told the dog, after placing a piece of beef jerky between the big and middle toe of Kyler’s right foot, which, along with his left foot, were both sticking out of his small tent, which had completely collapsed around him during the night.
Joe took the small piece of meat from Kyler’s toes, ate it, and then began to lick the residue off of Kyler’s foot, which at first, just flinched a little, but the more the dog licked, the foot began to shake, and a sound much like “sheee-hee-hee-hee” was heard emanating from under the canvas, but both feet shook and disappeared back under the canvas, followed by what appeared to be his body shooting up into the sitting position.
“Is that the tent pole?” he heard a voice ask.
The laughing was abundant as Kyler made his way out from under the tent, where he was met by pretty much everyone, soldiers and civilians, looking down at him and laughing…except, Potts himself, of course, who simply stood next to Joe. He had more of a bemused look on his face…as did Joe, himself.
“Did ‘dat tickle?” Anthony asked, holding Meredith and laughing.
“Yes, Anthony, that did tickle,” Kyler answered grinning, trying to get out from under the tent.
“Hurry up, Rip Van Winkle,” Potts told him, tapping Kyler’s foot with his own before walking away.
“Aye, aye, Mein Fuhrer,” Kyler said under his breath as the crowd began to disperse.
Kyler managed to clean himself as best he could under the circumstances. Whoever had packed his things had accidentally packed Dr. Hebman’s toiletry bag, and not his, although Hebman had nicer stuff than he did, so it wasn’t a total washout. He hadn’t been completely trustful of Potts seeing that his things were packed, and had bought a toothbrush and deodorant at a greatly inflated price, at the last truck stop they’d stopped at the day before. He shaved with Hebman’s razor. He should have bought disposable razors at Big Joe’s, because Hebman’s razor blade was made for people with thick beards like his. Hebman had a five o’clock shadow at 2:15. Kyler, on the other hand, had very sensitive skin, and Hebman’s razor was beating him to death. He was okay until he splashed on some
of Hebman’s aftershave, which stung him like a thousand hornets. He didn’t need to fight werewolves…he’d bleed to death before he ever got there.
After he’d eaten several of Cpl. Williams’ powdered eggs…Kyler didn’t care, powdered or regular…he packed his tent up as best he could, which was pretty lame by everyone else’s standards. Even Meredith’s and Ben Rollins’ sleeping gear were in better shape than his. His sleeping roll and tent looked like something an uncoordinated third grader had attempted on a particularly rough and windy day.
The trucks were all loaded and lined up. Everyone was in a truck but Kyler, who was making sure that everyone was in and accounted for, and Potts, who was trying to start the caravan, but was having to wait on Kyler, who gave a sheepish smile and an even more sheepish wave before finally walking to the passenger door of the truck. Just as he was about to open it, there was a noise that sounded like a freight train.
“What is that?” FranAnne asked from behind the wheel.
“I have no idea.”
The noise grew even louder, until Kyler had to cover his ears. He looked up to see Potts holding his, too. The freight train sound continued to grow louder and louder. Kyler looked up, ears still covered, to see what looked like a mountain of dust coming at them. Before he had much of a chance to duck, what seemed like a ton of sand hit the caravan hard. Kyler turned away and tucked his head under his shirt as the hot wind hit him. The small grains of sand seemed to cut him like knives. This dust storm was like no other he’d seen in his life, and that’s having lived in California, Arizona, and New Mexico. Most dust storms he’d seen were like small funnel clouds of dust that, when they hit you, immediately evaporated in seconds. This thing was at full blast and made Kyler feel like he was about to be blown away. This went on for several more seconds, before Kyler felt the hot wind die down. When he stood up, Kyler could feel sand in his mouth, his hair, his eyes, and his clothes. He wiped his eyes and spat out a mouthful of sand. When his eyes cleared, he looked up to see the large dust storm, seemingly growing ever larger like a funnel cloud, picking up more dust and debris as it swept across the Oklahoma sand.
“What the shit was that?” Kyler asked FranAnne, thinking that, as a southerner, she would know.
“I don’t know!” she shot back, still a little rattled.
Kyler looked toward the front of the caravan to see Potts getting out from under the lead truck. He stood up, adjusted his eye-patch, wiped off what little dust was on him, and looked up to see Kyler, who shrugged his shoulders at him. Potts looked around for a moment, before looking at Kyler and waiving him into the truck.
“Is everyone all right back there?” Kyler yelled as he got in the truck.
He was met with several answers, including “Wamona”, that told him that everyone was okay. Kyler heard the trucks in front of them starting up. FranAnne reached down and turned on the ignition, whereby the truck started right up.
“Good,” FranAnne said, looking at Kyler as she put the truck in gear. “No dust got in the engine or gas tank.
Kyler smiled before settling into his seat. As he wiped more dust out of his hair, he felt the truck starting to move. He looked up as one truck after another pulled out of the campground, and onto the highway.
“Well, I guess this is it, Doc,” FranAnne started. “We’ll be there late this afternoon if there aren’t anymore obstacles or refugee cars to deal with.
There was a lilt in FranAnne’s voice as they pulled onto the highway, and began to move down the road. Kyler didn’t feel as good about it as FranAnne did. He was going to be busy trying to figure out what to do about the werewolves’ survivors. As of that moment, he had no idea what he was going to do when he got there. He was just glad that, according to Potts, they still had a day or two before the next full moon. That was something, he guessed.
CHAPTER 51
Simon awoke in the morning to the sound of confusion. He sat up feeling great. Must be close, he thought. He hadn’t felt this good since God was a boy. He swung his legs over the side of the bed just in time to see several doctors and nurses surround the old Mexicano’s bed and begin to banter back and forth about the diagnosis. Just check the videotape, you morons. It’ll give you your diagnosis or prognosis or whatever it is you dumb sumbitches are looking for. Simon didn’t much care if they watched the video tape or not, because he had noticed that most of the patients were stirring…not like they were just waking up, but like they were beginning to realize that their senses were heightened and their bodies were changing, some going into small spasms, while others were simply feeling their faces and their teeth in wonderment. There were men, women, and children of all ages about to turn, some frightened, some in amazement, and some nonplussed, and all…his children.
“What did they call it in the movie?” he asked himself softly. “The Pater familias?”
Simon sat and watched as a horde of doctors and nurses entered the room, many carrying x-rays, and all carrying expressions of concern. Jiminy Xmas, there must be thirty of them and more pouring through the door. Better be careful or there won’t be any room. There were starting to become more hospital personnel than patients here in Quarantine. He’d never seen so many people named Patel in his life. Jeez, the Indians were all moving here and becoming doctors and nurses. Good for them, he thought. He’d never had Indian before. And speaking of…
Simon almost grinned when he saw that he was going to be cared for by an Indian female doctor and an Hispanic female nurse. They stopped in front of him, and both looked at the chart that the doctor was holding. Ooh, he could smell them both from here. The doctor had been up and working for quite a while, but the nurse smelled of shampoo, deodorant, soap, and newly applied perfume.
The doctor bent down and opened Simon’s robe. She ducked her head and he could feel her pulling back his gauze. Knowing what she was going to find, Simon waited to see if the doctor would tense up in surprise…and yes, she did.
“See any thing different, Doctor?” Simon asked, smiling up at the nurse who was about to put a thermometer in his mouth.
“A little,” the doctor answered, looking up at him. “Are you feeling any discomfort?”
Simon had been a little stunned with the sound of her voice. Where he had expected the usual click of the tongue dialect that most East Indians have, this lady had a very deep voice with an equally well-educated British accent. And what do ya’ know, he thought to himself while reading her nametag which read ‘S. Rashvi-MD. Damn, it wasn’t Patel.
“No…no, discomfort,” he answered, smiling down at her.
He could smell her nervousness at the situation. That’s the problem with doctors. They refuse to believe in what they can’t see, even if it’s right in front of them.
“I would say that you’re healed and can go home, but I want to take another look at you in a few hours. Can you hang around that long?” This time the doctor smiled wearily up at him.
Looking down at her, he could see that she was probably older than he’d first thought. He saw a few silver hairs in her otherwise dark tresses, and she had a few crow’s feet and laugh lines. She was probably in her mid-forties. He waited for the lights to start forming, but they didn’t. Hmm…strange. Her smile must’ve kept them away.
“Sure, I can hang around for a while, Doctor. I’m not so sure that you ladies should though.
“I beg your pardon?” the doctor replied.
“If I were you…and you too, Ma’am,” he said to both doctor and nurse, I would clear out of here. Can’t you see that something’s happening around here?
The doctor and nurse exchanged quick, worried glances.
“This is bigger than the both of you. You can’t stop what’s about to happen.”
“What do you mean?” the nurse, whose nametag read ‘R., Gonzalez-RN’.
“I’m telling you, Ladies, the shit’s about to hit the fan…pardon my French,” Simon informed them as the doctor stood over him.
The doctor looked d
own at Simon and forced a smile.
“You seem to know what’s going on around here,” she said, matter of fact.
“I sorta do,” he answered back, now noticing that both ladies were smiling.
“You’re not from around here, are you, Mister…”
“Stone,” Simon replied, lying. “Steve Stone…and I’m from Texas.” Shit, that was the thing about Texans, he mused. You’ll lie about your name, but not where you’re from.
“Why do you think something is awry?”
“Because most of the people in here are changing and you don’t know into what. All the wounds are healing and now some of these people are startin’ to look odd, aren’t they…not to mention the dead old Chicano over there.”
“Do you know what’s happening to these people?” Dr. Rashvi asked, crossing her arms and doing everything in her power to not look nervous.
Simon looked around the room again. It was getting busier and noisier as they spoke. The room felt electric.
“Nope, but I will tell you this. Don’t stay too long.”
The two ladies smiled one more nervous smile at him, and then at each other.
“Thank you,” Dr. Rashvi managed to say before she and Nurse Gonzalez turned and walked away.
“Be ye’ warned all those who enter here,” Simon said softly, trying to remember where he’d read that warning.
