by Terry Yates
As the group reached the half collapsed fence, the fence itself suddenly exploded inward, sending planks of wood all over the pool area, several of them knocking two of the bodyguards into the pool.
The Rap Star had ducked. When he looked up, he saw two of the new werewolves, one a light color, and one and extremely dark color. Before anyone could react the two werewolves took two of the men into the pool, which immediately went red with blood.
“Shoot the mother fuckers!” he yelled at his men who just stood looking into the pool with their mouths open.
“But T-Bone and Stevie are in there!” Jody screamed back, looking back from the fight that was going on in the pool and The Rap Star.
“D’you think that blood belongs to those other two mother fuckers!? Shoot!”
The Rap Star had to fire his gun first before the others had the nerve. Everything was still happening under water as the bullets tore through the pool. Suddenly, the light colored werewolf surfaced, an arm, complete with wrist, Rolex, and hand, hanging from its mouth like a dog with a bone that wanted to play. It snarled once, then bit down on the arm, snapping it like a twig, the hand and the rest of the arm falling into the pool as it did. The thing chomped up and down a few times before loudly swallowing the piece, which was quickly followed by a licking of its chops.
Everyone fired at the beast. Two bullets hit it in the chest sending it crashing backwards into the water. It yelped as it slammed against the pools ledge, causing much of the concrete to crack and break. As they began to fire again, the darker werewolf popped to the surface. Like it’s predecessor, the dark one was chewing on what had once been a part of Stevie’s torso.
The Rap Star heard screams coming from behind him. He turned and looked into the house. Through the giant, plate glass window, he saw two more of the things inside the house. People were screaming in terror throughout the living room as the creatures swatted at them. One of the werewolves took The Rap Star’s ex-mother-in-law to the floor and began to attack her viciously. Just because his ex-wife left him, didn’t seem a good enough reason for her mother to go as well. She’d sponged off of him for four years and didn’t see a simple divorce as a reason to leave. The Rap Star watched in horror as the thing feasted on her. After a few moments, it looked up and made eye contact with him. For a moment, it looked like it was smiling at him as if to say, “I likes me the dark meat”.
The werewolf dropped the old bat, remained on all fours, stuck its rump in the air, and then sprang toward the window. The Rap Star ducked below the windowsill just as the beast shattered it with its body. He heard screaming, followed by even more screaming.
The Rap Star took his arms from over his head, and then began to crawl on all fours. With gun in hand, he crawled to the bar, took a right at the wall, then crawled behind it, drawing his legs up and rolling onto the bottom shelf. He lay there and listened to the screams as the monsters killed everything that moved. What were those things?
When the battle seemed to be at its peak, something began to pick up the bar as if it were an empty box. The Rap star moved further into the shelf so that he wouldn’t fall out at the thing’s feet or whatever they had. He stayed in the shelf as it was being raised. After a moment, he heard a loud growl, then the bar went back a little, then forward, throwing the bar through the air, where it hit one of the last survivors, and smashed into the fence. Pain shot through The Rap Star as the bar splintered into pieces, causing him to fall hard to the ground before rolling semi-conscious into the hot tub.
The werewolves made short work of everyone else in the mansion. When they left, all was silent and the beasts were not just sated, but filled with the bloodlust of their maker and their ancestors. The inside of the mansion and everyone in it were in pieces. The pool area was completely red with blood, flesh, bones, and entrails. The pool was now filled to the brim with the muck from the slaughter. The hot tub was even worse. It was not only filled with the muck and body parts, but it continued to bubble hot, making the hot tub look like a giant bowl of piping hot tomato soup. In the corner of the hot tub, sticking up from the water was the cocaine straw that The Rap Star had been using. After a moment, the water began to stir even more as a head popped up from the water. It was the head of The Rap Star, the straw sticking out of his mouth. It seemed to float lifeless in the water until suddenly the head opened its eyes and the mouth spit out the straw. The head tried to scream, but the shock had silenced its tongue.
If a werewolf could strut, the werewolf that was Simon Shoals/The Lobo, would have had Stayin’ Alive playing in the background as it moved toward the large building. It, along with a dozen other werewolves, including three, two middle-aged men and a young woman, who had not turned yet, looked at the prison gates. Its maternal instinct told it that they should stay back until they turned, but the patriarch in the werewolf wanted them to go out and enjoy the packs first night together, and kill. The patriarch won out as the whole group was descending upon Chino Prison. The werewolf had been attracted there by the simple smell of the fight that it could get from these two-leggers. There was something different, something…inviting about the big rock that housed these little two-leggers.
When the pack was within a hundred yards of the fence, the werewolf that had been Simon Shoals, let out a loud, piercing howl, giving the signal for the pack to attack the big rock. With the exception of The Lobo, the pack, including the three Unturned, hit all fours and began to gallop toward the prison fence. The leader of the pack continued to walk upright, its instincts wanting to let the two-leggers know who the King of the Mountain was around these here parts.
A loud alarm went off just as the pack was reaching the first fence, which they ran over and through as if it were made of paper. Immediately shots rang out. Several werewolves and the female Unturned were thrown backwards violently, each yelping in pain as they did. The two werewolves got back up, growled, and then continued to run toward the building. The Unturned female did not get up. She lay flat on her back, one bullet hole in her shoulder, one in her chest, and another in her left eye. The other large brown eye stared up at The Lobo. The female was dead because her body hadn’t turned and the little fire rocks had been lethal. Angry, the beast looked up to see that the pack had reached the big rock. Fire rocks were being hauled at them, knocking many of them down. Only one or two seemed to be badly hurt. The others were getting up. The noise from the fire sticks were loud and annoyed the leader of the pack, which raised its head to the moon and let out a howl, first of misery for the dead pup, and one of revenge, telling the others to tear the big rock apart.
The guards had been forewarned that many of the creatures that had escaped from two separate hospitals were headed in their direction. A lockdown was called as the warden and the small band of guards must’ve felt like Crocket, Bowie, and Travis at The Alamo, after having seen on the television and heard from their superiors what was coming at them. A dozen police cars and several dozen soldiers were headed to the prison, hoping to either cut off the creatures, or at least get to the prison before or at the same time.
The werewolves knocked down every fence and made it through every hail of gunfire. Again, they were knocked down, and again they got up. The Lobo continued to walk upright as the others continued ahead, still on all fours, the gunfire coming at them even heavier now.
The moon was bright and neither side had any trouble spotting the other. After they had knocked down the last fence, they ran straight for the building, howling loudly. A female guard that just wasn’t fast enough to get away was attacked by two of the werewolves. She barely got a scream out as the two beasts began to feed on her.
The prisoners who had all been screaming gleefully at the carnage were now screaming in terror as several of the werewolves hammered their claws inside the building’s outer wall and began to climb it, fist-over-fist, the claws tearing through the bricks as if they were butter…coming toward them.
The Lobo could hear screaming from inside the building. The
members of the pack that were already inside were wreaking beautiful havoc. It just hoped that the pups’ instincts had kicked in and remembered not kill them all. They needed to leave a few for their continuous survival, but their first ‘bloodlust moon’ was up and The Lobo knew that it couldn’t completely trust them yet not to kill everything they come across, plus it wanted a few of these two-leggers to turn. Something told it that there was something different about these little creatures. They had something inside them that was pure malevolence. Its instincts told it that that might be a problem down the path, but for now, it hoped to keep a few of them alive.
The Lobo heard gunfire from its right. It turned just in time to see one of the last guards put a bullet into the head of one of the male Unturned, knocking it ten feet backwards through the air, the back of his head exploding outward as it fell. For a moment, the guard and the extremely pissed werewolf locked eyes. The guard’s eyes went wide as the beast roared and then began to advance on him. The guard began to unload his gun into the werewolf. Pain shot through the beast as the two-legger’s fire rocks hit it in the shoulder and once in the neck. When the little fire stick was empty, the frightened little two-legger turned to run, but never even got to pivot, for The Lobo took two giant strides and was on top of it, clamping its clawed hands over its screaming face, and sending its other claws into its hip, causing it to wriggle in delicious pain. It lifted its screaming prey over its head and stormed over to an iron barred gate, where it proceeded to slam the two-legger into the gate over and over again until the body began to turn to pulp and push through the bars. As the hit went through the bars, it exploded like a melon, covering The Lobo’s face with blood and brain, which it lapped up lustfully as it pushed the carcass completely through the bars, the large mass of skin, pulp, and bones that had been smashed to jelly, dropping with a wet thud on the concrete.
The Lobo threw the gate aside and stared up at the building once again. The mayhem filled it with ecstasy. The alarms, the sirens, the sound of the fire sticks…and the screaming, were all like mating calls to the werewolf. With each one, a little more destruction ensued.
The Lobo entered the building and joined in on the buffet. It loved swatting at the screaming prisoners and guards, who were all now in a blind panic, and running in all directions, all being chased by the pack, who were enjoying their feast. Within ten minutes, the place was completely red with blood. In the distance, The Lobo heard sirens…many of them. It knew that it wasn’t afraid of the little shells with the bright fire on top, but its instincts told it that too many of them could be a detriment to the survival of the new pack. The Lobo let out a howl of retreat, dropped its latest victim, a big prisoner that had the temerity to think that it could tussle with it, and began to move toward the exit, swatting and biting as many two-leggers that crossed its path between there and the door. Both prisoners and guards were shooting guns, sometimes at the werewolves, sometimes at each other. The Lobo saw two of its litter, both dead, lying in human form. One had been decapitated, the other had a silver shank stocking out of its forehead.
The Lobo reached the exit just as the dozen police cars were arriving, their lights bright and their sirens loud. Just as the vehicles were coming to a stop, the beast howled and began to run toward the cruisers, followed closely by several werewolves that had followed it through the front door. Several windows shattered and iron bars began to litter the ground as several more jumped out of the windows, some as high as the third story, each hitting the ground running…all running toward the policemen. The werewolves were at the cruisers before the policemen could even get out of the cars. They turned cars over, and they pulled officers through the windows or windshields. A few got shots off, but none did too much damage…that was until, four Army trucks and two tanks came up the drive.
The trucks emptied out as the werewolves took their focus away from the stunned cops to the Army, none of whom seemed to be running away from them. Quite the contrary, these little two-leggers wanted a scrape. As The Lobo and his new pack began to converge on the small convoy, the soldiers began to fire at them. The Lobo saw several of his pack fall in front of him. This time though, they were not getting up. Wisps of smoke were coming out of their wounds. Several of them writhing in pain and yelping. These fire-rocks were killing his pack
As The Lobo turned to face the soldiers, a bullet tore into its right shoulder, causing it to spin in a ¾ turn. The little fire rock burned excruciatingly, the pain spreading through its shoulder and into the joint. The werewolf turned to face the soldiers again, snarled, and then began to move on them again. It got no more than three steps before another bullet struck it in the thigh, the force of impact causing the creature to do a complete flip into the air. When it landed, it felt its thigh begin to burn. The beast was confused, because most of the fire rocks that struck it, hurt and caused temporary damage, but the fire rocks that came from these fire sticks, instincts told him, could cause his death.
Through the mayhem and bedlam of the werewolves, the police officers, the military, and now escaped prisoners, all of whom were trying to kill each other, The Lobo rolled behind a police car. At first, seeing was impossible because of all of the cruiser lights flashing in his eyes, but his night eyes adjusted after a few seconds. Through gritted teeth and grunting loudly, The Lobo put his claws to each wound, the smoke from the wounds billowing out between them.
The beast that was Simon Shoals didn’t know words like ‘angry, mad, furious, or irate, but it was all of them. It was receiving the pain rather than giving it, and neither Simon Shoals nor The Lobo cared much for that particular scenario. It managed to pull itself up, still hidden between police cars. It watched as the soldiers continued to shoot at everyone that seemingly crossed their paths. The Lobo growled a low guttural growl as it panted in and out, exhausted, frustrated, and in pain. It laid its ears back and slanted its already hooded eyelids, as it watched from the side as two lines of soldiers, one kneeling, one standing fired into the crowd. The creature saw many of his pack wounded or dead, the smoke from the fire rocks pouring out of the lifeless bodies. Those that weren’t dead, were crying out for their father, but their wasn’t much The Lobo could about this fighting bunch of two-leggers, but retreat to fight another day. But first…
A second police cruiser sat between the werewolf’s cruiser and the small line of soldiers. Each car had two dead cops inside. Blood smeared the entire car giving El Hombre Lobo a paternal feeling of satisfaction. His wolf instincts set him up perfectly for a surprise attack. The side. While the little band of two-leggers fired straight ahead, The Lobo would come at them from the side, surprising them and forcing them to split their focus.
The beast turned and slid down the side of the car. It looked at its shoulder wound, which was quickly festering, the silver causing the damage to quicken. The smoke kept it from being able to see inside the wound. The Lobo panted for a moment, trying to relax for one last second. It closed its yellow eyes, then its mouth. A small groan escaped its black mouth as it breathed laboriously. Finally, the creature opened its eyes, looked down at the wound, then took one claw and began to dig into the shoulder wound, whimpering as it dug around for the fire rock. When it found the projectile, it maneuvered its claw under the bullet, and began to move it upward. It growled low and guttural as it fought back the pain, finally ejecting the silver projectile. Although the pain of getting the bullet out was great, relief was immediate, and it lay its head against the car for a moment before starting for the thigh wound which proved more difficult. The Lobo had to ream out the wound with its claw to get the second one. It whimpered as the second silver bullet dropped onto the concrete and rolled under the cruiser. The Lobo panted in relief for a few moments. It could feel the blood flowing from both of its wounds, but at least the smoke was dissipating.
Once again, the creature laid its ears back. It couldn’t stand the painful yelping it was hearing from his panicked litter. The Lobo snarled as it let its anger build inside
itself until it began to gather a little strength. It panted several times before straightening its back and digging its heels into the concrete. With everything it had, the werewolf that was Simon Shoals, pressed its back against the cruiser and began to push. Surprisingly, the big two-legger shell was easier to move than it had expected, especially with its injuries that seemed to be weakening it. It knew it didn’t have much room between the two cars, so it wanted to get some momentum going. It grunted once then pushed as hard as it could. It was only a second before it could feel the cruiser collide with the other cruiser. It had enough momentum going that the other cruiser didn’t slow it down much. The monster gave one last, loud roar, then pushed with all of its might, sending the two cars into the line of soldiers. The Lobo heard screams, followed by thuds, followed by more screams. Upon hearing all of the damage that he was causing, The Lobo began to push even harder. Even with the pain in his leg, The Lobo was almost running. He could feel himself stepping on those not quick enough to get out of the way. He gave one final, loud roar, and then pushed the cars with all of his might, the cruisers smashing into the soldiers like a bowling ball leaving only a seven-ten split, one of those being a short two-legged soldier who did not flinch, but instead, watched as the car went by, then looked back at the werewolf, and fired its pistol, the bullet nicking the creature in the side and passing through. The pain from the silver was bad, but the projectile hadn’t done much damage. The Lobo began to move toward the brave little two-legger, who strangely again stood its ground. The Werewolf couldn’t understand why the little creature wasn’t shitting itself blind, instead of standing there like a squirrel facing a…werewolf. The Lobo growled, then roared. Again, it began to move toward the little pest, and again it held its ground, this time shooting the monster through the hand, the beast screaming in pain as it spun completely around, this time cradling its forearm. Another bullet whizzed passed the werewolf’s face. The Lobo roared violently at the two-legger, who answered by raising his fire stick once again. The beast wanted the two-legger, but again, instinct told it to live to fight another day. The smoke from its wounds was thickening. It gave the human one last evil eye before getting down onto all fours, sticking its rump into the air, while digging its claws into the concrete. Just as the audacious little two-legger raised its fire stick again, The Lobo sprang high into the air, going up and straight over the soldier, who calmly watched the creature’s flight and aimed its pistol at the werewolf. The soldier pulled the trigger five times, but the little fire stick went ‘click’ ‘click’ ‘click’. When the beast landed, it yelped from its injuries. It quickly spun around and faced the soldier, who looked like it was refilling its weapon with the fire rocks. It would have been the perfect moment to attack the soldier, but The Lobo was in pain and feeling weak. It stared into the unflinching face of the soldier, growled, then began to run away, limping. The Lobo would remember the creature that stood up to him, and hopefully, on the next full moon, show the soldier who the new sheriff in town was.
