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

by Terry Yates

  “That’s it, Girl!” Mary Sue cried.

  “All right, listen up, all of ya’!” Potts’ voice crackled to life again. “We’re gonna give these mutts one more go-round! On the ready, Fulton swing out left, and Jordan, right. We’re gonna swing back in front of ‘em again…Jordan, you go behind ‘em, Fulton, you in front of ‘em. When you get close, blast the shit out of them, but don’t get caught in a crossfire! On the ready…”

  FranAnne felt Mary Sue swat her on the shoulder.

  “Let’s show these men how to kick some werewolf ass!” Mary Sue yelled, smiling, checking the cylinder of her gun.

  “Now!” Potts shouted.

  With this, FranAnne swung the wheel hard to left, once again, expecting to hit something, but the terrain was still level. Had Potts been figuring all of this out when he’d scoped out the campsite?

  “There they go!” Mary Sue cried, her head stuck out the window, watching as the other truck began to make the arc to the right.

  Both trucks went wide, finished their arcs, and began to head back toward the surviving werewolves. The trucks were now on each side of the pack, the werewolves stuck in the middle.

  The pack became confused, not sure what the two-leggers were doing. There were still over thirty of them left, and each and every one, wanting the pesky humans. Half of the pack would go after one of the ‘two-legger shells’, while the other half would chase after the other one. But as they began to move, the trucks veered inward, one coming in front of the creatures, while the other, behind. The monsters didn’t realize that, as they turned, they were forming a circle. They growled as the two-leggers came at them, from both sides.

  “Get ready!” Potts barked into the radio.

  Each truck came out of its arc almost simultaneously, and began to head toward each other, FranAnne cutting to the inside. While keeping her left hand on the steering wheel, she reached down to pull her revolver, but with the rough terrain, she was having trouble unsnapping it. After her third attempt, she felt Mary Sue’s hand touch hers, then move it aside, and unsnap the holster, before taking her own hand away. FranAnne lifted up the flap and pulled her Beretta out of its resting place and placed it between her legs.

  FranAnne could see the other truck’s lights, several hundred yards up ahead on her left. They were approaching a line of werewolves that were supposed to be chasing them, but instead, had stopped, unsure of what to do other than snarl and show their eight inch claws, which was usually enough for FranAnne, but at that moment, she felt like she could take anything on.

  “Fire at will!” Potts shouted into the radio as he stood on the bumper, looking at the line of smelly, yellow-eyed monsters that they were fast approaching. He reached behind him and pitched the radio inside the truck, hitting Kyler in the forehead before dropping to the floor. “Hand me the Uzi!” he yelled over his shoulder, his hand out. Kyler looked around on the floor for the automatic rifle. He was about to give up, when he looked up to see Denny holding it out to him. Kyler gave him a nod, then placed it into Potts’ hand.

  Peter and Jefferson had not wasted a moment from the time Potts had commanded them to shoot. Again, Jefferson was leaning out the window, and again, Peter was standing on the bumper, Uzi in hand. Both of them had started taking werewolves out long before Potts got off his first shots. The colonel caught up as the two trucks continued toward each other, silver bullets spraying the werewolves.

  FranAnne shot out of the window with her left hand, not sure if she was hitting anything, but enjoying the shit out of doing it. When she looked over at Mary Sue, all she saw was the former sheriff’s legs. Mary Sue was sitting on the window, shooting over the top of the truck.

  Fire continued to blaze from the trucks as they sped toward each other.

  “That’s it, Valkenberg!” Potts was shouting, seeing nothing but a constant stream of fire shooting out from the side of the oncoming truck. When the trucks were within fifty yards of each other, the firing from the other truck stopped, as not to get caught in a crossfire. As the trucks began to pass one another, Jordan and FranAnne bright-lit each other and honked their horns.

  “DYKE!” Jordan shouted, smiling as he passed her.

  “PECKERWOOD!” FranAnne shouted back over her shoulder. Both drivers gave a loud “Yee-haw!” as they passed, and stuck their middle fingers out the window, knowing that the other one was looking back through the side mirror.

  As the back of the trucks passed one another, Potts, Kyler, and Sam stood, a silver grenade in one hand, the grenade pin in the other. In the back of the other truck, Peter and Williams were standing in exactly the same position…grenade in one hand, pin in the other. All five of them smiled, then dropped their grenades over the back of the truck, where a shitload of werewolves were running into each other, trying to figure out which two-legger shell to chase. Peter and Williams saluted Potts, who returned it before all of them hit the deck just in time for the explosives to detonate one after another, sending the silver shrapnel in all directions, followed by the biggest, grandest, silver mist that had even the largest of the hairy-asses were going down.

  “Head for the hills again!” Potts shouted into the radio.

  Both trucks began to accelerate as Potts, Sam, Peter, and Williams, fired at anything yellow or hairy that followed behind. Woe be it to any Oklahoma Bigfeet that were in the general vicinity. Kyler wasn’t shooting into the darkness…he’d only thrown the hand grenade, because Potts had shown him the initials that he’d scratched on it. ‘S.C.’ Sgt. Cohen. He would throw it for Sgt. Cohen who died setting off a string of grenades that were strapped to him. Of course, he’d done this after the werewolf that was Klefka had literally stomped the holy shit out of him, crushing the M.P.’s chest and ribcage. With his last breath, he had pulled the pin on one of his grenades. When it exploded, it detonated the others, sending the werewolf flying through the air, but obviously killing himself in the process.

  “Hold your fire!” Potts barked. “Save your ammo!”

  After another machinegun burst, and one more grenade toss, both from the other truck, there was nothing.

  “Sorry about that,” Peter Valkenberg told Potts remorsefully. “My finger slipped…a couple of times…heh…heh…heh…”

  “Yeah, well…see that you don’t do it TOO many more times!” Potts pretended to bark, this time. This wasn’t Valkenberg’s first rodeo. He was one cool customer under fire. “Pull over here!” he ordered the drivers.

  Even with the lights on, and even with the moon and the stars lighting up the night, she still saw nothing but shadows most of the time. She looked over, glad to see that Mary Sue was back inside the truck. There’d been a few bumps that FranAnne thought might send her out of the truck, but she stayed balanced on the door, blasting away at werewolves.

  The gears ground and the now almost nonexistent shocks creaked as the trucks came to a stop. FranAnne and Mary Sue holstered their revolvers out as they exited the truck Potts, Kyler, Sam, Denny, Anthony, and Meredith were already out of the truck. Anthony was holding Meredith, while the men stared at the huge silver cloud that billowed up into the air, the breeze moving it slightly east.

  “I said gott’damn!” Jordan exclaimed, looking at the cloud as he, Jefferson, Peter, Williams, Lauren, Joe, and the twins joined them at the back of their truck.

  “Keep it down, numbnuts!” Potts whispered loudly, still looking at the cloud.

  “Colonel!” Kyler admonished, pointing to the children.

  “Goddammit, Kyler!”

  “Colonel!”

  “That’s all right, Dr. Kyler,” Lauren started, stepping up to Kyler. “Numbnuts is pretty much part of the American vernacular now.”

  “She’s right, Doctor,” Denny added, also looking up at him. “Everyone gets called ‘numbnuts at least once in their life.”

  “Yeah…well, if everyone does a stupid thing, that still doesn’t keep it from being a stupid thing,” Kyler retorted, wondering why he was debated two people wh
ose combined ages didn’t equal his own.

  “Nu-nuts,” Meredith squealed.

  “Nu-nuts! Wamona!” Anthony added.

  “Nump-noots!” Werner and Astrid giggled. Kyler raised his eyebrow at Peter, who simply returned a ‘Who me?’ smile.

  “Will ya’ be quiet!” Potts quietly snapped, turning around. There were three gasps, two squeaks, and a ‘gulp’ thrown in his direction before he remembered that his bandage was gone. Under the bright moonlight, he must’ve looked like, or worse than, one of the hideous things that they were fighting. “Sorry,” he muttered, quickly turning back around.

  Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his lucky bandana that he’d worn on the island, then moved up next to Potts, where he held it out to him. Potts looked down at the hand, and wavered for a moment before finally taking the bandana.

  “Listen,” he told the group, nodding his head toward the large, silver cloud, while trying the bandana around his head.

  “Your welcome!” Sam silently mouthed behind him, both hands cupped over it as if he was screaming it.

  The group stared at the silver cloud. They could hear the sounds of werewolves dying in the distance. Some howled and some snarled, but they all seemed to be dying, which began to put the group in a better mood. They looked over at the highway, which was several miles away, but with so many cars out there with their lights on, they could see the road clearly. They listened for any signs of trauma. Horns were honking, but they were just too far away to tell if anything else was happening.

  They looked back at the silver cloud, which still hung in the bright night…that is, until another weather anomaly began. The wind began to shift…away from the east and toward the south.

  “Oh not now…” Potts said through clenched teeth. “Not now…”

  Used to these wind changes by now, the whole group ducked their heads away from the soon-to-be-hard breeze. Right on cue, a strong, cool wind swept across the plains. At least it was a cool one, Kyler thought to himself. Those hot winds could be a real bitch. The gale went on for another ten seconds before stopping. Potts tried to peer through the settling dust as he re-adjusted the neckerchief. The silence was broken by the sound of Kyler trying to spit dust out of his mouth.

  “Quiet!” Potts said, disgustedly, placing his cap on his head.

  The once silver cloud had now dissipated a little, causing it to thin out over the plains. Through the mist, they saw maybe ten sets of first, yellow eyes, and then long canine ears shining through the fog. The beasts began to howl and bay…but they didn’t move forward. The silver from the grenades was still thick enough to immobilize them.

  “Maybe, it’s thick enough to keep ‘em off us AND the civilians,” Potts said softly, now scanning the terrain between the werewolves and the highway. “At least until morning anyway.”

  “Maybe a little luck’s come our way after all,” Kyler replied as he moved up next to Potts.

  “Don’t queer the deal, Kyler,” Potts began to scold him…just as the first raindrop hit.

  “Great,” Sam sighed, dropping his head.

  “Sorry, guys, I…” Kyler stuttered.

  “I didn’t mean you, Doc,” Sam smiled, putting his hand on Kyler’s shoulder.

  More raindrops began to fall, not many at first, but just enough for everyone to get hit by at least one of the cold drops.

  “Oh no…” Potts moaned lowly.

  “Surely, it’s not going to rain,” Kyler whispered softly.

  “Kyler…!” Potts moaned again as the raindrops began to fall harder. A lightning bolt lit up the sky behind the werewolves, of which there were twelve, all looking in their direction, and all becoming clearer now that the rain was evaporating the silver smoke.

  “How far away are they?” Potts asked, not taking his eyes off of the beasts that were now holding their claws out at to their sides.

  “A hundred and fifty yards,” Mary Sue answered, peering through the darkness with her hand shielding her eyes from the raindrops.

  “Two hundred,” FranAnne corrected her, also using her hand to shield the raindrops.

  As the drops began to fall more frequently, so did the density of the silver cloud. The yellow eyes and silhouettes were more visible now. It looked like the bastards were just biding their time until the silver mist had completely disappeared.

  “Slowly and quietly get back into the trucks,” Potts ordered them softly, continuing to watch the cloud evaporate. “Fong, you drive our truck…Fulton, I want you and the sheriff back here.”

  The group slowly began to disperse, never taking their eyes off of the wolfpack, who they could now hear snarling, awaiting their chance to get the two-leggers. When everyone was in the trucks, Potts picked up the radio and spoke softly into it.

  “Mayday…mayday…if anyone’s near the…”

  “Black Mesa’s,” Mary Sue answered, settling in next to Potts, while FranAnne reached back for a rifle.

  “Black Mesa’s,” he continued, bending down into a squat, watching as the rain was washing away the last of the smoke. “We’ve got a dozen or more of them out here on the southside…or face…or whatever the shit you call it. If there are any professionals out there, we could use the help. Doesn’t matter…land, sea, air, local, state, or fed…come a runnin’.”

  Never taking his eyes off of the creatures, Potts gave the bandana one more tight pull, before reaching down, and taking his cap out of the back of his pants, and placing on top of his head, and then drawing his .44.

  “Sure do miss my .45,” he said almost wistfully.

  Potts, Kyler, FranAnne, and Mary Sue, were either sitting, kneeling, or squatting down against the tailgate, while Denny, much to his chagrin, sat with Anthony and Meredith, out of Harm’s way.

  When the smoke had completely evaporated, the two groups just seemed to stare at each other across the dusty terrain. Another lightning bolt lit up the sky, giving the already bright landscape an even more ominous look.

  “Get ready!” Potts was having to yell into the radio as the raindrops began to batter the truck.

  They heard Jordan playfully gun the engine.

  “Stop screwing around, Jordan! You and Fong listen up, because you’re on your own up there! On my order, I want you to haul balls for the mountains! It’s almost as light as daylight out there, and with the lightning, you should be able to see pretty well…and whatever you do, don’t stop! Keep driving! You don’t wanna get bogged down in the mud! Over!” Without looking, Potts reached across Mary Sue and handed the radio to Kyler, who thought the colonel should have at least said, ‘Please’ or ‘Thank you’, but he knew that would not be forthcoming, so he simply took the radio and laid it between his crossed legs. “All right, come on you hairy-asses,” Potts whispered, taking a cigar out of his pocket. As he was about to place it in his mouth, he turned his head to Mary Sue, his good side showing. “Mmm?” he hummed, holding out the cigar to Mary Sue, who now had her Stetson on top of her head. Mary Sue looked at the cigar for a moment, paused, then looked up at Potts. She nodded her head and smiled before taking the small cigar and placing it in her mouth.

  “Fulton?”

  FranAnne looked up to see a cigar in front of her face and Potts’ hand attached to it. She leaned forward to make sure someone wasn’t pulling a prank The arm extended across Mary Sue’s face all the way to Potts’ shoulder. In true Potts form, he was not looking at her. He never took his eyes off of the enemy. If you blinked, you lost.

  Potts felt FranAnne take the cigar from him. He reached into his pocket and took out his box of matches.

  “You’re gonna have to light ‘em yourselves!” he shouted as the raindrops began to come inside the truck. “The wind’s too strong to…”

  Before he could finish, a silver Zippo lighter that shone brightly against the lightning, was in front of his face, the flame on. Potts looked down at the hand and then to his right, where he saw FranAnne reaching across a semi-nervous Mary Sue. Potts placed his hand
on FranAnne’s and pulled Zippo to his cigar, where he puffed several times before letting go off the hand. Without waiting for a ‘thank you’, FranAnne pulled her arm back until the flame was in front of Mary Sue, who like Potts, gently touched her hand and pulled the lighter forward. FranAnne felt a small jolt of electricity shoot through her whole body that she was hoping was lightning.

  “Opay! Opay, PranAnne!” Mary Sue was trying to say, her face completely engulfed in smoke.

  “Sorry,” FranAnne said apologetically, blushing as she pulled her hand back and closed the Zippo before placing it in her pants pocket.

  “Hey…no thanks!” Kyler yelled above the rain, feeling insulted that he wasn’t offered a cigar. “None for me, thank you!”

  “We don’t want you blowin’ chow all over us back here!” Potts was having to yell now, because the rain was beginning to fall hard.

  Kyler started to speak, but thought better of it. Potts was right. With all of the bouncing around that they’d been doing, he’d hurl his guts all over the place, and then some.

  They watched and waited as the gathering of werewolves began to stir. Potts snapped his fingers at Kyler to hand him the radio.

  “Would you make up…” he muttered to himself as he handed the radio back up to Potts.

  “Start moving forward slowly,” Potts told the drivers. “I don’t know what these wily bastards are up to, but whatever it is, we don’t want to get bogged down in the mud before we even put any space between us.”

  The truck began to lurch forward slowly, traveling no more than three or four miles per hour. The ground was still dry. Good, they would still have some traction for at least a little while anyway.

  The five of them, Denny had returned to his original spot behind Kyler, continued to watch the werewolves as the trucks pulled slowly away. While it seemed that the lycanthropes were still glaring and growling at them, they weren’t following. What was stopping them now that the silver cloud had disappeared?”

  “Hold up,” Potts ordered the drivers.