by Terry Yates
“What is it?” Kyler asked.
“There were three of them,” Potts answered, still looking at the map.
“Three?”
“Yep…three.”
“Don’t tell me…one large, one medium, and one small?”
“Yep.”
“Shit,” Kyler muttered as he looked at the map.
The two men stood stood silent in front of the map, both scanning and searching for answers. Finally, Kyler traced his finger from where they were toward the Northwest part of the map, until he ran out of map.
“Tennessee!” he screamed, causing Potts to flinch.
“What?”
“They’re going to Tennessee.”
“Why Tennessee?” Potts asked, looking up at the doctor.
“Kayla Dixon!”
“Who?”
“Kayla Dixon! The twin! She was taken by some relatives, grandparents, I think, who were from Tennessee!”
“You sure about this, Kyler?” Potts asked, a look of near excitement plastering his face.
“What else could it be? They got off of the island and are making their way to Tennessee!”
“Where in Tennessee…it’s a fuckin’ state for Christ sake!”
“I don’t remember or no one told me, I’m not sure, but I do remember that it was Tennessee.”
“Then that’s where we’re headed,” Potts said, tapping his index finger hard against the plastic that covered the map.
CHAPTER 72
As the group was preparing to depart the Rest Area/Hospital, Kyler, who was standing near the back of the truck, looked up and saw Zack Olsen talking to what he could best describe as a group of rednecks, bikers, and ex-vets, several of them covering all three groups. The teen smiled, nodded his head, and held up his index finger in the “back in a minute” pose, before walking toward the truck, the first person he passed being Potts. The doctor watched the two chat for a moment, the boy pointing to the people he’d been talking with, followed by Potts shaking his head in the negative. The boy put his hands in his pockets as he continued to speak. After a few seconds, Potts shrugged his shoulders, said something to the boy, then extended his hand to the teen, who said something back to Potts as he took the hand and shook it heartily. Potts pointed to the back of the truck, then returned his hands to his hips as Zack walked away.
“What’s up, Zack?” Kyler asked as the lad arrived at the back of the truck.
“I’m leaving, Dr. Kyler,” Zack answered, reaching into the truck and pulling out his backpack.
“Leaving? Wha…?”
“I met some people who want to go hunting werewolves, and invited me to join them,” he answered, taking a cap out of the bag and placing on his head.
“Hunting…what…you can’t! You’re only sixteen,” Kyler informed him.
“Actually, I turned seventeen yesterday, Dr. Kyler,” Zack re-informed him, now looking at the doctor.
“You did…yesterday?” Kyler asked, looking away, confused. “I’d’ve had Sam bake a cake or something…I don’t know…maybe we could’ve…”
“Doctor,” Zack interrupted, smiling at the man, who was only three inches taller than his own five-feet-eleven.
For the first time, Kyler noticed that boy had beard stubble growing on his chin.
“What did Col. Potts say?”
“He advised me against it, but gave his okay, and told me to take a few guns and ammo with me…and to learn how to make silver bullets.” The boy laughed at the remark.
Kyler had not seen this kid smile, much less laugh, since the island, and even then, he hadn’t smiled much. He’d lost his mother and grandmother to the werewolf that had been Nicholas Klefka and his father to the werewolves that had been Cpl. Marcus Dixon, Shelly Dixon, and Pvt. Aurelio Martinez.
“Well…” Kyler stuttered, “I wish you well, Zack, I really do.”
“No. Thank you, Dr. Kyler,” the boy said, extending his hand. “I would’ve never made it off of No Name without you…and the rest of them, of course, but it was you who gave me courage and wisdom when I needed it.”
“Me?” Kyler asked, taking the hand and dreading the tears that he knew would be forthcoming. “I was the biggest coward out there.”
“Oh yeah?” Zack retorted, “Then who was it I saw pop out of his safe hiding place in the high weeds, and chase Lauren down across a field of werewolves, soldiers, and assholes in caps and sunglasses, hmm? That’s the most heroic thing I’ve ever seen?”
“Yeah, but I was scared shitless,” Kyler replied, tears beginning to brim over.
“And that’s what makes you a hero, Doctor…being scared shitless and not running away. Why don’t you give yourself a break, huh?”
With that remark, the boy placed his hand on Kyler’s shoulder and smiled, both remembering that those were Kyler’s exact words to Zack when he was angry at his father for running away and leaving his mother and grandmother to the werewolf.”
Kyler was now in full tear flowing, nose running gear. All he could do was smile as Zack pulled him close and gave him a hug. The men slapped each other’s backs the manly three times, then stepped back.
“Goodbye, Dr. Kyler,” Zack bade. “Could you tell the others for me?”
With tears still running down his face, Kyler smiled and nodded. God, he hated his Irish tears. The Irish don’t handle sap well. Zack gave him one last nod, then walked away, Kyler wanting to stop him, to tell him that chasing werewolves was moronic, and to put his shit back in the truck, put the guns away, and be a six…seventeen year-old boy for a while, but all he could do was watch him walk away, nodding at Potts as he passed him.
“Good luck,” Kyler squeaked.
CHAPTER 73
Potts slapped the back of the truck, which was much lighter now, since both patients, Heather, and Zack were gone. There were still eleven of them, including Joe, and the food and weapons, but compared to what it had been for those couple of hours crammed in together with no air conditioning, this was pleasure cruise. The mood was dour with Zack and Heather gone, but it quickly picked up five miles down the road, when they saw heading toward the rest area, an ugly pea green Army truck, and as it passed, they saw Peter Valkenberg smiling back at them.
When the two trucks finally met up, Peter, Werner, Astrid, Meredith, and Anthony all hopped out of the front seat and ran to the others.
“Are we happy to see you,” Peter announced, his German accent sounding thicker from lack of rest.
“What happened?” Potts asked, trying to untangle Meredith Bayfield from his legs. “Where are my men?”
“Sorry, Colonel,” Peter started, “but when the sheizel hit the fan, only two of them came with us, and they were both killed before we got very far from the hospital.”
“Oh my God!” They turned around to see a beaming Kyler, hand out, and looking about ready to jump into Peter Valkenberg’s massive arms.
Anthony and Meredith ran to Kyler and both grabbed him around the waist as he shook hands heartily with the big German.
“God, it’s great to see you guys!” he exclaimed, placing his hands on Meredith’s and Anthony’s head. Werner and Astrid followed suit and also hugged the doctor. Astrid pulled away and muttered something, causing Peter to laugh.
“She says that you don’t smell so good.”
“Well, tell her, if you guys hadn’t taken off with all the gear, I might smell a little sweeter,” Kyler came back, grinning, glad now to be able to at least clean up with Hebman’s toiletry bag. “Where’s Ben?” he asked, still smiling, scanning the area for the seven year old.
“Ben?” Peter asked, still smiling, but with a look of confusion on his face.
“Ben…Ben Rollins…you know…”
“He’s not with us,” Peter answered slowly, looking worried now.
“What?”
“We just assumed he was with you. I grabbed everyone I could from the hospital, but I never saw him.”
“You mean…”Kyler started slow
ly, his shoulders already starting to droop, “we left him at the hospital?” He looked over at Potts who let his back fall against the truck, and his head drop.
“Surely someone got him,” Potts spoke, still looking down, now kicking his boot at the ground. “No one would’ve left that kid to fend for himself.”
“It was batshit crazy out there, Colonel!”
“Yeah, but still…”
“Dustin, Heather, and now Ben.”
“Dustin and Heather are dead?” Peter asked.
“One of them got Dustin, and Heather…well, she’s going to need some psychiatric care.”
Kyler slowly turned and walked away dejectedly just as the rest of the group was surrounding them. He walked about fifty yards and sat down in the grass next to the shoulder of the road. Potts was probably right. Kyler didn’t know much about Okies, but he knew about country folk, and he knew that any decent person at that hospital would’ve grabbed a little boy, their child or not. But who knows, maybe one of the werewolves got him before anyone had a chance to help him. He tried to think…how many deaths could now be laid at his feet. Zora and everyone had convinced him that no death could be traced to him, but the first night at the refugee station, he remembered Sgt. Cohen who died because he didn’t turn over Nicholas Klefka to Potts, and of course, Potts himself would still have a face if it weren’t for him. Now Dustin, Ben, and Heather. Potts had been right. They should’ve left them at the refugee camp where they’d of been much better off, obviously, but no, he’d forced Potts’ hand, and now…
He stood up when he heard both trucks start up. He waited while the trucks crept onto the shoulder of the road, both sets of gears grinding together. FranAnne and Sam were in the front seat of the first truck, which slowly crept to a halt beside him.
“You okay, Doc?” Sam asked, trying to force a smile, but having little luck.
“Yeah,” Kyler answered, “just feeling sorry for myself.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” FranAnne told him, leaning up against the steering wheel. “Why don’tcha’ hop in with us, and we can all have a pity party.”
“Sound like a plan, Doc?” Sam asked, a bigger smile crossing his lips this time.
Kyler forced his own smile, then nodded his head before walking to the back of the truck. Tennessee, here we come, he thought to himself.
CHAPTER 74
Simon looked up at the morning sun as he limped down the sidewalk. Once again, he had woken up naked, and once again, had to find some clothes, this time breaking into a house, where he was met by an old man and a shotgun. Even in as much pain as he was in from the night before, he’d quickly dispatched the ol’ fart, then went into his bedroom to check out his wounds in the mirror. As before, he couldn’t remember much about the previous night’s activities, but it must’ve been a real shitfest, complete with piñatas and all, because he was awakened by, and had heard nothing BUT sirens and alarms since he’d awoken. He’d watched cop car after cop car, ambulance after ambulance, and fire truck after fire truck fly by all morning long. He’d cleaned his wounds from the night before. He didn’t remember a lot of what happened, but he did remember feeling pain several times. He’d been shot several times, but only two of them seemed to really affect him…one in his side, and one in his leg. The others seemed to be healing rapidly, but not so these two. He’d dug around in the wounds, but there were no projectiles to be found. For some reason, he must’ve dug them out last night instead of this morning, as he’d done with the rest of the bullets, one in the back of his thigh being extremely hard to get to.
Simon began to see a whole new L.A. full of looters and people waking up in the middle of nowhere, covered with blood, and sometimes with a corpse or two at their feet. Come to think of it, there wasn’t THAT much difference.
Something that resembled a human was lying next to him when the sun arose. He hadn’t been able to tell if it was male or female, and really didn’t care much. He wished he could feel for others, but alas, that’s the way the cowpat tie flew, and there was just nothing he could do about it.
He hated the smell of the old man’s flannel shirt, which was pungent with either mothballs or old man. He was anxious to see more of the havoc he had caused. Psychopaths just lo-o-o-ove seeing their name in the media.
Simon had no idea where he was in L.A., but he’d figure it out soon. He had no particular place to be anyway. This cesspool was getting a good dose of penicillin from El Hombre Lobo. Screams, gunshots, sirens, more gunshots, more screams. Simon Shoals was having the time of his life. Granted, those two wounds were smarting something fierce, but he’d never been the sort to let a couple of nicks and cuts bother him, not with so much still left to do to this citole, but what to do first? He wondered if there was a mall around there. He was getting the urge to kill again, but not in the werewolf form, in human form. The lights and the fireflies were swirling about him. It’d been a few days since he’d killed the little bitch from the library.
Simon continued down the sidewalk, never really paying attention to the street signs. They really didn’t mean anything to him. When he reached an intersection, he decided to turn right into a residential neighborhood.
“Maybe I can scare me up some trouble in there,” he said softly, a big grin on his face.
CHAPTER 75
Kyler awoke when he felt the sweat dripping down into both ears. He been lying on one of the benches in the back of the truck that FranAnne was driving when the next the thing he knew, he had fallen dead asleep. How he could have fallen asleep in the hot, dirty truck, with shocks that must have come from an old horse drawn wagon, he had no idea. The last thing he remembered, he was lying there thinking about Zack Olsen and Ben Rollins, and the next, he was waking up.
He rubbed his eyes, and then looked up. Lauren was also fast asleep on the bench across from him. She was lying on her stomach, her arm over the side, and resting on Joe’s back, who was curled up in a ball below her. Jordan was sitting up, but dozing, his arms crossed over his chest, as was Denny who was curled up in a ball in the corner. Williams, on the other hand, was leaning back, head up, mouth open, and was snoring so loud, that Kyler could hear it over the wind and grind of the truck. An X-Men comic book was lying across his fat stomach. The truck was still full of food and weapons, except for the box that Potts took with him to the gear truck, but at least there was room, and the air was circulating.
Kyler slid down the side of the bench and looked out the back. Peter was driving the gear truck and Potts was riding shotgun. Jefferson and Mary Sue were riding in the back with Meredith, Anthony, and the German twins. He could see that Potts and obviously Peter were awake, but he was betting his bottom dollar that everyone in the back was asleep.
The doctor wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wished that they could go faster, but there was no getting around all of the refugees headed in the same direction that they were. If they could go more than 20 M.P.H., more air would circulate, but he would take what he could get that day.
Kyler tried to keep his mind off of Dustin, Heather, and Ben, because if he thought about any of them for too long, he would probably fall apart. He needed to stay busy and driving 20 M.P.H. for hundreds of miles was not staying busy. Like before, Potts had told FranAnne to drive around the traffic. This time, though, the cops had thought and radioed ahead, and had had tractors or some type of farm equipment dig deep divots in the ground on both sides of the road, so as to make it impossible to pass, which at first, everyone thought was funny…seeing somebody get one on Ol’ Iron Ass. Upon seeing the police’s handiwork, Potts almost smiled himself at either the temerity of the cops or stupidity for now making impossible to pass now for the next several miles. If there were an emergency in the next five miles, they, along with everyone else, would be screwed. They were stuck in their situation, but at least they’d been able to fill the trucks with gas at the rest area. The Marines had an area where gasoline had been shipped in, and they had to put it in by hand/
can. They tried to put some in all of the cars, because if anyone ran out of gas, one lane would bog down until they got it off of the road, which there wasn’t one going in their direction for a few miles. The military trucks went first, then the state vehicles, and once they were done, they’d go back to the civilians. Civilians. A couple of months ago, Kyler had been just that. A civilian. How had he got mixed up in all of this? He’d only witnessed death a few times in his life…his parents and grandparents, even Crazy Gramma Emma, that one member of the family that was always considered the ‘family loon’…every family has one…but he’d seen…what…at least fifty…sixty…maybe more? He’d lost count. He thought about what Potts had said about God, Fate, or Destiny, or whatever, and how both their assess had landed in this mess, and that’s just the way it was. But why him? God, his brain hurt from all of this. When, or if, this thing was ever over, would he be able to deal with the guilt of leaving the refugee camp? Maybe the children had been better off at the Wartler’s. At least they were alive. He shuddered at the thought. No, anywhere was better than the Wartler’s.
Suddenly, the truck swerved to the left, sending Kyler and other sundries sliding across the floor. He heard everything and everyone moving. He silently prayed for Williams not to be one of those things.
Everyone awoke simultaneously. Kyler reached under the bench and retrieved the radio that slid under the bench where Lauren had been asleep.
“What was that, Guys?” He asked into the radio, noticing that the other truck was now driving off road behind them. Obviously, they had passed the divots. There was no answer. He looked out the back again at the other truck. No wonder…Potts was talking into his radio.
After a moment, both trucks grinded to a halt. He could see that Potts and Valkenberg were curiously looking off at something to their left. Kyler jumped out of the back just as Potts and Valkenberg were exited the other truck. He also heard FranAnne and Sam’s doors open.
