by Terry Yates
“Insinuation?” Jefferson finished.
“Yeah…uh…institution,” Denny tried to say, but his thick tongue was becoming thicker. “Brownie?” he asked, holding the large, piece of brownie.
“Ooh! Fudge!” FranAnne screamed, breaking off a piece and handing some of it to Mary Sue, who gave Denny one last look, before she walked over to the fire and sat down. They all watched her as she began to eat it.
For the next half-hour, the seven of them laughed and giggled. FranAnne and Williams both laughed their high-pitched laughs, causing everyone else to always giggle even harder. Mary Sue, who had once been a speed freak, knew that she was getting stoned, but hid it from the others. She was trying to make it look like it had no effect on her, but it was tough. There were some funny boys amongst her.
After another half-hour, everyone was quiet for the most part.
“What the hell?” FranAnne asked, now like the rest of them, all lying on their backs.
“What?” Kyler asked, trying to raise his head, but still having difficulty. He’d only been stoned once in college, and he had done nothing but laugh and eat all night long.
“The moon,” she answered, her brow furrowed.
Everyone looked up.
“What about it?” Kyler asked.
“It’s gone from half to one-quarter.”
The moon was big and bright orange, and sure enough, it was now at one-quarter.
“Naw,” Jordan crowed.
“No, she’s right.” Sam told him. “Ever since the island, I find myself letting very few minutes pass without looking at the moon.”
“You too?” Kyler asked, thinking himself to be the only one who found himself keeping an eye on the moon.
“Man, you’re harshin’ my buzz,” Denny remarked, surprised at himself for saying that to adults.
“I’m gonna harsh you with my boot here in a second, Denny Lusk,” Mary Sue chuckled, “especially after giving the brownies to…”
“Cops?” Denny asked, grinning back at her.
“No,” she replied. “I don’t remember. What were we talking about?”
This time there was an explosion of laughter, both Williams and FranAnne doing their high-pitched duet, while Mary Sue followed on the next beat with a snort. Followed by everyone else who would laugh at the three of them. After a few more snorts and guffaws, the group got quiet again.
“Goddammit!” FranAnne yelled, again looking up into the now clear as a bell, starry night. “Look!”
“Son-of-a-bitch…” Sam muttered.
Through the haze, they silently looked up into the sky to see that the bright orange moon was almost ninety-five percent full now.
“That’s impossible,” Sam told the group. “For one, it would cause too many weather anomalies, plus…”
As if on cue, a wind began to slowly kick up around them.
“Thanks a freakin’ lot!” Jordan exclaimed as everyone began to scramble for cover. But just as quickly as it came, it went away, dropping sand over most of the fire.
“Shit!” Sam screamed, his cap covered with sand. He was moving on his hands and knees trying to save the fire.
What little fire there was, was saved by Sam, who cupped his hands around it, while Williams and Mary Sue scooped the sand away from it.
“What was that?”
The group looked up to see Lauren and the other children standing behind them.
“Another sand storm,” Lauren said, more to herself.
Peter Valkenberg ran in from one side of the camp, while Potts ran in from the other.
“Goddamned!” Potts shouted. “Was that …” Before he could finish, he looked up to see Kyler and the others nodding their heads toward the children. “Shit,” Potts muttered. “Sorry.”
“I believe it was another one, Colonel,” Kyler answered, shaking the dust from his hair.
Before another word could be spoken, a blood-curdling scream tore through the night, causing everyone, even Potts, to jump. It was coming from behind them. That scream was quickly followed by another, and then another. Finally, they all heard what they’d secretly been dreading. It was a howl…followed by another one…that all too familiar cry of victory that was guaranteed to send bowel bashing, spine tingling, shivers up the spine. Everyone simultaneously looked up at the sky. A collective gasp was heard from everyone but Potts. The moon was now full.
“No way! No way!” Kyler screamed, looking at Potts, who shot him no more than a glance.
“How?” Sam asked. “It’s not poss…”
“Yeah, it’s not possible,” Potts spoke up, looking behind them, where more screams and more howls were being heard. “All right, everybody!” he suddenly bellowed. “We’re bugging out! Put as much shit in the trucks as you can. Make sure no weapon is left behind. Throw whatever else you can in there in the next thirty seconds, then we’re taking off!”
“Colonel…” Kyler tried to say.
“Move your ass, Kyler!” Potts yelled at the doctor, who was just too beaten to argue.
“Well, there goes my buzz,” Jordan said aloud as he began to gather up whatever was lying on the ground.
“What?” Potts asked.
But Jordan didn’t answer, because he and the rest of them began to pick up everything they could find, until all that was left were the tents. Afterwards, the group gathered at the trucks, where Potts stood, the wooden box he’d been holding onto all day on the ground in front of him, cigar already lit.
“Okay, Fulton, Jordan, you drive.”
“Sir!” they both returned.
“Jefferson and Sheriff Carter ride shotgun. Mr. Valkenberg?”
“Well, you finally said my name right,” the German answered smiling, a rifle on each shoulder. To Kyler, those rifles looked they were across the room from one another.
“Mr. Valkenberg, you’ll be in the back of one truck and I’ll be in back of the other. Fong, you and Kyler split everyone else up and put ‘em in the trucks, and keep ‘em low. Everyone that plans on shooting a weapon, make sure you have enough ammo! Williams, you’re with Mr. Valkenberg!”
“Sir!” Williams bellowed, saluting.
Potts reached into his back pocket and retrieved Kyler’s pistol, which he held out to the doctor, still looking behind him. Kyler reluctantly took it and stuck in the back of his pants.
“Now…” Potts began, as he reached down, and opened the box. “these…” he continued, as he pulled out four hand grenades, two in each hand,” are regular pineapples, able to do damage at short range. You probably won’t kill ‘em, but you can stop for a while. He began to pass out the grenades. There were a dozen of them. Peter took two, Sam took two, and Williams took two. Potts held two out for Kyler, who at first, waved them off.
“I don’t know how to use them,” he said.
“You push in here, hold, then pull the pin,” Potts told him. “You really ought to take a few pineapples with you in case you get separated or run out of ammo.
“These ARE hand grenades?” he asked, after having heard the term ‘pineapple’ twice.
“No, there fuckin’ pineapples, Kyler! Now, do you want one or not?”
“I better not,” he replied, waving them off.
“Good idea,” Potts added. “You’ll get us all killed.”
He gave one more apiece to Peter, Sam, and Williams, and then kept three for himself. He reached back down into the box, and removed a wooden slat that gave the box two levels. From the bottom of the box, he pulled out more hand grenades, but these were silver in color, not just silver, but a silver that almost blinded them against the light of the moon. He handed three to Peter, Sam, and Williams, and then placed his three on his belt alongside the regular grenades. When Potts bent down to close the box, Kyler felt Sam nudge him. He, in turn, raised his eyebrows, silently letting Sam know that he had his full attention. Sam handed him one of the hand grenades. They were heavier than he expected. Sam nodded his head toward the grenade, whereby Kyler put the expl
osive up to his face, and began to peruse it carefully. Just when he was about to ask Sam what the hell he was nodding about, he saw it. It was a set of initials scratched primitively on the side of the grenade. The initials were ‘O.M.’ O.M.? Kyler tried to think, but nothing came to him. He looked at Sam, then shrugged his shoulders in the negative.
“Omall Pun,” Sam appeared to mouth silently.
Kyler gave a half-shrug, holding his bony shoulders in midair, his palms up.
“Opal Munn,” Sam whispered slowly.
“Opal…” Kyler found himself confused for a moment, then he looked down at the initials again. Opal Munn had been one of the first patients he’d had on No Name Island. She’d gone from being a sweet, little eighty-six year old lady, to a six-and-a half-foot, white-maned werewolf, who killed her own grandson, Corporal Wilbur Munn, after she’d turned. He still got creeped out every time he thought about the island refugees running from the Nicholas Klefka/werewolf, after they’d first seen him turn. They had been running wildly from the Army camp to the secret island bunker, in the middle of a thunderstorm, when’d he’d heard ‘Splosh! Splosh! Splosh!’ coming up from behind him. He’d looked up to see Opal, white hair wet and flying through the air, running through the water in her nightgown and bare feet, her unconscious twenty-three year old grandson, Wilbur, draped over her shoulder. She hadn’t turned yet, so it was an extremely strange sight to see her pass him up, a college distance runner. The worst part of the experience was when she smiled at him as she passed, the big brown orbs that had once been eyes, were wide and round. That and the toothless grin scared him to death. It was the WAY she smiled at him that made him still want to shit a barrel of monkeys. When she’d opened her mouth, he had expected her to let out an evil cackle like in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, but she didn’t. She made no sound at all, which made her twice as frightening. Why were initials on the hand grenade, though?
He passed the explosive back to Sam, who put a second one close to Kyler’s face. The initials were ‘L.O.’ Locklear O’Hearley…or Leanne Olsen, Zack’s mother. Sam showed him the initials ‘A.W.’, this time shrugging his shoulders at Kyler. Kyler thought about it for a moment, and then it hit him. Abbey Walling, his nurse, who had been sweethearts with Potts, if one could believe such myths. Had Col. Iron Balls done something noble? Could he have gone soft and scratched the initials of the ones who died on the island. He looked up at Jefferson and Williams who were both trying to read something on the side of their grenades. Yep, he’d done it. He was honoring the fallen by allowing them to be a part of blowing the sons-of-bitches to Hell and back. That would be their revenge. Gringo and Samantha Boots, Sylvia Morrison, Burt and Martin Burns, Pvts. Hawkins and Gibson, Opal and Wilbur Munn, Rob, Leanne, and Grandmother Olsen, Sgt. Cohen, and Locklear and Ariella O’Hearley, Lauren’s parents. Kyler wondered if he’d scratched the initials of the doomed battalion that Potts had sent to batten down the island morgue. The hurricane struck before they could get to safety, and they got lost in the middle of the storm. After becoming lost, they ran into the werewolf. Nicholas Klefka, and were butchered within minutes. Only a Pvt. Martinez and, of course, Cpl. Marcus Dixon, who had been in charge, survived, but both were bitten by the werewolf, only to become lycanthropes themselves. And Marcus passed it on to his wife, Shelley Dixon, and their twin son, Oliver…only the twin girl, Kayla, managed to survive.
“Turn all radios on!” Potts screamed over the din of screams and howls, making a point to look at FranAnne, who looked down as soon as he did. “Let’s go!”
“Where are we going, Colonel?” FranAnne asked him, completely unsure of what to do.
“That way,” he answered, pointing behind them. “Any other questions?” he asked, looking at the group. They all shook their heads. “Stay on your toes and don’t waste your ammunition! Understood?” This time, everyone but Jordan and Peter slowly nodded their heads. Jordan shook his up and down furiously, while Peter didn’t move his at all, but just continued to watch Potts. “Let’s go!”
Like clockwork, the group went into battle mode. Kyler and Sam jumped into the back of a truck with Potts, Denny, Anthony, and Meredith. FranAnne drove and Mary Sue rode shotgun, her long barreled Western .357 out and loaded for werewolf. FranAnne didn’t know if she was still stoned or in shock, when she realized that Potts hadn’t split up the men and the women. She and Mary Sue were together and Jordan and Jefferson were in the other truck with Peter, Williams, Joe, Lauren, and the twins. She wondered if he knew?
“All right,” Potts said into the radio, as the truck engines came to life. “Follow my lead!”
The trucks turned around and headed back toward the cars that had tried to follow them off road. The moon was bright, but they were moving away from it, so everything was casting shadows, making it hard for them to see clearly. The line of cars still lining up the highway, were giving a little light, but not much. They’d have to depend on the moon, the stars, and the truck lights to see by.
They sped toward the fighting, none but Potts quite believing that they were headed TOWARD the werewolves. The trucks bounced up and down over the terrain for several minutes until they saw lights, either from a camp, or from cars being on fire.
In the back, Kyler, Sam, Denny, Anthony, and Meredith, were bouncing up and down. Only Potts, who was standing on the bumper, one hand on the outside iron rail that ran down from the top of the truck and ended at the bumper. He was peering around the left side of the truck, so that he could see clearly. In his other hand, was his radio.
“Wamona!” Anthony yelled, holding Meredith as tightly as he could, trying to keep her from bouncing around too much. The six-year-old didn’t weigh over thirty plus pounds.
“You said it, Kid!” Potts screamed over the din, his cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth.
A few more seconds went by before he saw the first set of angry yellow eyes. Actually, they saw several sets. And the fact that they could see them, meant that the werewolves were looking their way, as well.
“Do what I tell you to do, both of you. Come back, both of you!”
“Hell’s Bells, Colonel, I ain’t had this much fun since Paul Gulley was a boy!” Jordan’s Mississippi twang cried out over the radio.
Kyler, Potts, Sam, and Denny looked at each other in ‘Le Confusion’ Grande’’.
“What the shit does that mean?” Potts asked him.
“Don’t really know, Colonel,” he replied, “I guess it’s about some ol’ dude named Paul Gulley, or somethin’.”
“Jordan, you hand that goddamned radio to Jefferson, and put both hands on that wheel before I feed your balls to these wolfmen!”
“Ouch and affirmative, Colonel!”
“Dumb cracker,” Potts muttered after releasing the talk button. He pushed the button again. “Sheriff, you there?”
“We’re here!” Mary Sue replied loudly.
“Listen! Jordan, when I give the order, I want you to swing wide as if you’re making a circle. Fulton, since we’re behind and to the left, I want you to cut across the top of Jordan’s circle. You’re going to end up ahead of them as you complete the circle. I expect you both to end up in front of those sumbitches one after another. Shotgunners, do your thing as we go by.” Kyler, Sam, and Denny, watched in amazement as Potts paused, then took a breath. “Then,” he continued, “I want you to complete the half circle, and come out of it exactly as you are now. Understood? Exactly as you are now! Then, we’re gonna head back toward the mountains. At that point, Fulton gun it, and catch up to Jordan. Understood?”
“Roger!” came Jefferson’s voice over the radio.
“Ten-four!” followed Mary Sue.
“Good!” Potts shouted back. “On my ready! Careful, it’s coming up soon.”
The yellow werewolf eyes had silhouettes forming around them now. Even over the noise of the truck, he could hear them baying in their direction, inviting them over for dessert. Potts hadn’t realized how many sets of eyes there wer
e until he was about to give the order. There were dozens of them! Shit!
“Now!” he yelled.
Immediately, Jordan careened off to the right, while FranAnne accelerated, then veered slightly right in an attempt to cut across Jordan’s arc. Potts jumped back into the truck and dropped to his knees. He and Sam began gathering their weapons, Kyler and Denny watching them. Anthony was still holding onto Meredith, whose eyes were wide with fear.
Inside the cab, FranAnne was whiteknuckling the steering wheel, as Mary Sue began to roll down her window, the dust and the breeze making it difficult. She didn’t know what good she’d be anyway, the way she was bouncing around.
“Both of you start veering left!”
FranAnne veered left.
“Now straighten up!”
She let the wheel slide between her fingers until the wheels straightened up. She looked through her side mirror…sure enough, Jordan was now fifty feet behind her.
“Now gun it!” Potts screamed.
FranAnne hit the accelerator and the truck began to pick up speed. They were now headed toward the werewolves from the side. They were getting closer, because the eyes in the distance were becoming larger…and higher. God, there must be fifty of them, she thought, and they were all baying and howling in their direction. What was Potts up to? She looked over at Mary Sue, who was attempting to see out of the window, but she was having difficulty keeping the dust out of her eyes. She had placed the radio on the dash.
“Oh shit,” she muttered under her breath. Straight ahead of them, under the bright moon, she could clearly see the outline of the army of werewolves, who appeared as if they were welcoming them with open arms.
“Steady…” Potts’ voice said calmly over the radio, as if he’d heard her.
They were no more than seventy-five yards away and closing quickly. She didn’t have time to look down at the speedometer, which was probably going all over the place anyway.
“Veer left on the ready,” Potts told the drivers.
They were down to forty yards…thirty yards.
