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

by Terry Yates

  As she was about to bite down on the Pop-Tart, the truck began to suddenly slow down, causing Mary Sue to fall off of the bench. She heard tires squealing behind her, and looked up to see the other truck skidding on the blacktop behind her. Before the truck even stopped, she heard Potts open the passenger door and jump out.

  “Turn off the engine,” Potts ordered Williams, who immediately obeyed the order and turned off the ignition. As Mary Sue got out of the truck, Potts passed her and ran to the other truck. A few seconds later, the second truck went quiet. “Kill the lights,” Potts said softly, but being out in the middle of a dark highway where sound carried, it almost sounded like he was screaming.

  The six of them stood in the middle of the highway.

  “What are you doing, Colonel?” Williams asked.

  “I’m jerkin’ off a possum, Williams. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I’m…not real sure.”

  “Shh!” Potts hissed, scowling at the corporal. “I’m trying to listen for those hairy bastards.”

  The group stood silent, each with their ears pricked for any type of sound. They didn’t have to wait long. The first howl was faint, almost inaudible. It was followed by several more, and some dog howls.

  “How far’s town?” Potts asked Mary Sue.

  “About three miles,” Mary Sue answered, looking toward town.

  “That’s coming from smack dab in the middle of town,” Rex informed them, moving up next Mary Sue.

  “Well, we’re going past the town first. Is there any other way to get down that road that the rest of ‘em went down without going through the town?”

  “No,” Mary Sue replied, still peering into the darkness. “That highway doesn’t break off for miles. We’ll have to go through Harmonville to get down the road.”

  “Williams, are you sure you gave a radio to Pvt. Fulton?”

  “Yes, Sir. Swear to you.”

  “Maybe she can’t use it,” Jefferson said quietly, looking down.

  They stood quietly, everyone waiting for Potts to speak.

  “Okay,” he finally said, taking his cap out of his pocket and placing it on his head. “Same three per truck, except the Sheriff will ride shotgun, and I’ll sit on top of the truck. It’ll be the same in the other truck. Mr. Murphy will ride shotgun, while Jefferson sits on the roof. Understood? Drivers, keep cool. This highway is treacherous enough during the daytime…they’re gonna be hell at night, especially since we’re gonna have to turn off the lights at some point.”

  “Then if I were you, Colonel,” Rex started, now moving up next to Potts and Mary Sue. “I’d let me and Mary Sue drive the trucks.”

  Potts turned around and looked at the pair. “You two can drive old army trucks?”

  “Hell, Colonel,” Mary Sue chuckled. “Me and Rex both grew up on farms.”

  “And did you have old army trucks on your farms?”

  “Well…no…of course not,” Mary Sue laughed embarrassingly, unconsciously covering her mouth. She had a small gap in her front teeth that embarrassed her. “I meant…”

  “I know what you meant, Sheriff,” Potts sighed. “Everybody weaponed up?” Everyone nodded or murmured that they were. “All right then,” Potts smiled, as he pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. “Let’s get to it then, shall we?”

  CHAPTER 61

  Simon ditched the car…he had forgotten how unpopular cops were during anarchistic riots. He threw away the hat and tore the badge from his breast pocket. He untucked the shirt and let it fall over the dark pants, giving him the appearance of just a regular slob who just got off of work.

  Simon whistled as he strolled down the sidewalk. He could already hear sirens and gunshots in the distance. A couple of young thugs had tried to assault him as he parked the car. One will never walk again and the other, much like Taggert, will never have children…or any kind of sex for that matter. Don’t mess with Texas or The Lobo.

  He walked a few blocks only to find himself at the same place he was the day before. His truck was still double parked on the street, but now it was on fire. Simon could see that before it was ever set on fire, it was almost dismantled and covered with graffiti. Pedestrians hurried down the streets. Once in a while, a gunshot would be heard coming from several blocks away causing them to scurry away like the little cockroaches that they were, but not so Simon Shoals, who walked against the flow of the nervous tide. He could hear the heartbeats and smell the fear and confusion. No one was quite sure what was going on. That’s what Simon loved about LA. These idiots saw a werewolf last night, and had no problem going out the next night. These people running by him were actually wondering what was going on.

  “It’s still the werewolf, People!” Simon yelled at the top of his lungs as he moved down the sidewalk. “Same as last night! Same as tomorrow night!”

  Strange, he thought to himself, grinning. This time last night, everyone looked at him as if he were some crazy loon, but now, not so much. Hmm…

  He wondered how D’Andre was doing. He hadn’t seen him at the hospital, but he felt he was still alive, and roaming about somewhere close, as were several of his bite victims. He could feel that some of them were nervous, while others, such as himself and probably D’Andre, were rip-roaring-and-ready to meet the night, which should be in just an hour or so.

  “Sundown, you better take care…if I find you been creepin’ ‘round my backstairs,” he sang loudly.

  Simon found himself on a sidewalk where he could hear loud, though somewhat muffled, music. He saw that he was standing in front of a Latin club. The big neon sign above the door read “Rocko’s”. Well, there was a strange, Latin name. He figured that the mob must run the place, and that’s whom he’d really like to meet tonight. Mobsters.

  The sidewalk in front of the door was littered with every type of scum imaginable. Hookers of all races, for some reason all talking like they were black, or from the streets, or something, when most of them were from the suburbs, chattered alongside bums, sharks, sidewalk musicians, and barkers. Just in front of the door stood a large Italian looking man…a real goomba, complete with rumpled suit and no neck. He was holding some flyers and yelling at everyone on the sidewalk to come inside “Rocko’s” for the ultimate experience in adult entertainment. Actually he said, “Come inside and get everything, including your mind blown!”, but Simon deemed it heartfelt, and approached the man.

  “How much,” Simon started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a perfectly rolled wad of money,” could I get with this?”

  The goon stared at the money, mouth open. Simon had made sure that several of the one hundred dollar bills were prominently displayed.

  “Pretty much anything you want, Buddy,” the barker came back. “I’ll send you to the VIP lounge. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, I reckon any little place’ll do,” Simon said, grinning then placing the entire roll of bills into the man’s jacket pocket. God, the sum-bitch was huge.

  “You got it!” the man told him, smiling. “Hey, Buddy, you from around here?”

  “No, but I get that a lot.” Boy, was this guy a bright one.

  “Ya’ just look familiar, that’s all.”

  Simon stood silently and smiled up at the man.

  “Well…?”

  “Oh shit! Yeah! C’mon!”

  The Guido handed the flyers to another, smaller man, and pointed inside. The smaller man smiled and nodded, then began to take over the barking. No Neck beckoned for Simon to follow him.

  Coming in from the sidewalk into the dark club momentarily blinded Simon, who almost bumped into the back of No Neck before catching himself. The music was deafening, the bass so loud it was making his stomach quiver. His new sensitive nose could smell sweat everywhere. It wouldn’t have been that hard anyway because the placed was packed. Skanky whores were roaming the place, smiling and grabbing crotches, and just as skanky waitresses walked around with trays offering over priced drinks. Black lights and strobe
lights gave the place an even sleazier look than it would normally have.

  Simon followed No Neck up a flight of stairs where they came to a long hallway. Rooms with no doors, only curtains lined each side of the hallway. The music was a little less loud upstairs, so he could hear all of the moaning, groaning, and in one instance, screaming, going on.

  No Neck took him to a room at the end of the hallway. It was off in the corner of the hallway and actually had a door. Ah, the VIP lounge.

  “There you go, Buddy,” No Neck said, smiling as he opened the door and stepped aside. The light was on and through the door, he could see a queen-sized bed in what he guessed was the middle of the room.

  “Go on, Buddy,” No Neck beckoned Simon, almost shoving him inside.

  No Neck grinned and closed the door behind him, leaving Simon alone. The room wasn’t bad. It was an old building and was probably used as a brothel several times over. The bed was old and the sheets were old, but they looked clean. There was a sink and even a small restroom. He was uptown!

  Simon stood at the end of the bed, still taking it all in, when the door re-opened, and in walked two lovely ladies, not street-whore looking like the ones he saw downstairs. These girls were actually all right as the feller once said. The taller one was a brunette with dark hair, dark eyes, and one hellacious rack. The shorter one was Asian. Both looked to be in their early twenties, and both dressed in the hottest lingerie that Simon had seen in a spell.

  He looked at his watch. He’d been glad he’d kept it and not given in to the mostly useless cell phones for the time of day. Just a little longer till moonshine.

  “Hello, Ladies,” Simon bade the hookers, bowing. When he straightened up, he could hardly see their faces for all of the white light that was covering them.

  CHAPTER 62

  They had only gone a few miles when Mary Sue and Williams heard Potts rap on the top of the cab. This had been their signal to pull over. Mary Sue put the truck into neutral and turned off the ignition. God, she loved these old trucks with their grindy gears and their whiny brakes.

  She let the truck coast to a stop, finally stopping just around a curve in the road. She turned the headlights off and waited. The second truck, driven by Rex, did the same. She heard Potts slide off of the box, and onto the roof of the cab. His combat boots appeared over the windshield before the rest of him followed, sliding down the windshield, onto the hood, then onto the ground in one fell swoop. Mary Sue would’ve found it amusing if the circumstances had been different.

  They all quietly got out of the trucks, leaving the doors open as to make as little noise as possible. The group joined Potts who stood out in the middle of the dark highway. The bright orange moon hung ominously in the sky straight over Harmonville, as if inviting the group to come see how real country folk live…or die.

  Potts cocked his ear in the direction of the town. It didn’t take long to hear the howls.

  “They’re running loose in town,” Mary Sue told them, staring off in the direction of Harmonville.

  “Don’t hear any screaming,” Jordan said softly.

  “Everyone’s either dead, escaped, or hiding,” Potts came back. “Everybody know the plan?” Everyone silently nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Two of the creatures were arguing over the corpse of a young man. There wasn’t much left and the werewolves didn’t seem to be sated. Their yellow eyes and white teeth glared and snarled at each other as they clawed at the corpse, while never taking their eyes off of the other.

  They stood at the crossroads of the main highway, which eventually became Main St., and Will Sampson Rd. It was at the bottom of the hill with no stoplight, just a stop sign on Will Sampson. Harlan Gaskin used to love sitting at the bottom of the hill, because he knew that if brakes weren’t applied, science told us, the car would pick up speed, thus speeding by the time it reached the bottom, which was considered Harmonville City Limits. Even old ladies were speeding by the time they got to the bottom of the steep hill. They were in the mountains.

  As one of the creatures was about to make a power play over the half-eaten body, they heard a noise. Curious, the two werewolves lumbered to the stop sign and looked up the dark hill. Their yellow eyes had no trouble seeing in the dark, but since the moon shone behind them, they couldn’t see to the top of the hill. After about three-quarters, all they could see was shadow.

  They saw a dark shape come into view. To the werewolves, it looked like one of the shells that carried the two-leggers, but this one was bigger…much bigger, and unlike the two-legger shells they’d been seeing all night, this one made no sound at all, but was moving at great stealth. It made a little noise, but didn’t have that loud, animalistic sound that the others had. The two creatures stood out in the road and the bottom of the hill.

  “Now!” Potts barked into the radio!

  Mary Sue immediately turned on the headlights, momentarily blinding the pair. From the top of the truck, Potts shot two rounds into one of the beast’s head just before the truck ran over it. The other werewolf had gotten out of the way but hadn’t seen the second truck, which also had its lights off until it ran over it, causing it to howl and yelp as it was being dragged under the truck. As soon as the thing rolled out from under the truck, it stood up and howled. From the top of the truck, Jefferson aimed at the yellow eyes and fired. Immediately, the eyes disappeared. He’d hit it.

  “Turn ‘em on!” Potts yelled into the radio again.

  Mary Sue quickly put the truck into neutral and turned on the ignition. The old truck sprang to life and she immediately floored it as she headed straight for downtown Harmonville. Rex quickly followed suit and the two trucks sped down the highway. They had planned to stay on ‘Silent Running’ as long as possible and use the element of surprise, but having spotted the two werewolves, they went ahead and put the plan into action.

  As they raced through town, they could see yellow eyes appearing from all over, and then just as quickly, disappearing. They would be there one second and gone the next. That told Potts that either they were afraid and timid, or else, they’re coming after the group. He guessed the latter.

  They had no sooner hit the town strip than Potts spotted a werewolf off to their right. It was running toward the side of the truck. It was going to try to turn it over. The werewolf didn’t get a chance. Potts put three into the thing from the top of the truck. A second came from the left, but Jefferson saw it, aimed the rifle laser at the beast, and fired. The werewolf’s head almost exploded in half as the creature fell into the road.

  Mary Sue looked through the passenger side mirror where she saw what she thought was a large white one running alongside the truck.

  “Cpl. Williams!” she screamed, as the thing seemed to be getting closer to the door.

  Williams turned around and stuck his head out of the window. The beast was no more than eight or ten feet from Williams, who pulled his revolver and pumped three bullets into the werewolf. Both of them felt the creature fall under the wheels of the truck.

  Amazing, Mary Sue thought to herself. This high-pitched fat geek cook was actually smart and cool under fire. Potts knew what he was doing.

  “Heads up!” Potts bellowed into the radio again.

  Mary Sue and Williams looked up to see a half-dozen of the monsters standing in the middle of the road. The moon above them cast long shadows, making the werewolves look larger than they already were.

  “Come on, Murphy!” they heard Potts yell again into the radio.

  Rex pulled out into the oncoming lane and floored it until the trucks were side by side and both moving fast. Rex sure as shit hoped that no one was headed down the road toward them. They had to be going 60 mph, and the laws of physics tells us that if the oncoming vehicle is also going 60 MPH, that’s a crash at 120 mph. As he pulled up next to the lead truck Rex looked over. It was dark, but he could still see Mary Sue smiling at him as the two floored it.

  As they were approaching the pack of werewolves, the t
rucks were running neck and neck at almost 80 MPH.

  “Get ready!” Potts screamed into the radio before putting in his belt.

  He lay on his stomach, rifle aimed. He looked over at Jefferson who was lying on top of the other truck, his rifle also aimed. Ballsy kid, Potts thought. Riding on top of a truck doing eighty and aiming a rifle, especially since he’d only been a soldier a couple of weeks.

  Jordan and Williams each drew their revolvers and stuck their heads out of the window. The group of werewolves were holding their ground and growling as the trucks sped toward them. Potts shot a round that hit one of the werewolves in the shoulder. That had been the signal. Potts would shoot first, then the rest of them would follow suit…and they did. Jordan shot two from the passenger side, one of which immediately hit its back, the other he got in the shoulder, causing it to spin off of the road. Williams’ first shot went high, but he thought his second landed somewhere in the middle of what was left of the group. Jefferson nailed one from the top of the truck just as they ran over the lone survivor.