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

by Terry Yates

  CHAPTER 83

  Denny finally made it down the semi-steep, dark hillside. Because of all of the rocks and the mud, it had taken him almost twenty minutes to get down the mountain. He’d gone at least a hundred feet before he reached any type of level land.

  When he reached even ground, he looked around in the darkness. The little valley was hidden from the light of the moon. Denny felt like he now knew what the dark side of the moon must look like…if it rained on the dark side of the moon.

  As Denny searched around for any sign of Anthony or the werewolf, a two-pronged lightning bolt flashed. He thought he saw something off to his right. Had something moved? He couldn’t be sure…until another bolt of lightning flashed, and then he saw it…an arm.

  Denny ran in the direction that he’d seen the arm move. When he’d thought he’d gone far enough, a lightning bolt struck a small tree that couldn’t have been more than a hundred yards away, making him jump straight up into the air. Before he even landed, the thunderclap that always follows lightning sounded, causing him to flinch. When he gathered himself, he began to look around. He’d only turned his head a few degrees when he saw a large rock no more than fifteen-feet away. The arm was on top of the rock. Denny sprinted over to the rock to find Anthony lying on his back, impaled through the back and stomach by a sharp jag jutting out from the large rock. In between Anthony and the rock, lay what looked to the teen like a boy not much older than himself, who was also impaled, but even farther down on the jag. He stood over Anthony, whose eyes were open, not in death, but in near death. He was still alive and trying to free himself, but Denny saw the size of the bloody rock jag, and there was just no way. He couldn’t fathom how the down-syndrome boy was still alive. His face had been clawed and part of the top of his head had been either bitten or torn away. Anthony wheezed and grunted as he continued to try to break free of the rock.

  “Hey…uh…why don’t you just lie there and take it easy…huh?” Denny told the boy, tears welling up on his eyes.

  Denny didn’t know what to do, so he placed his hand nervously on Anthony’s shoulder. The boy slowly turned his head toward Denny.

  “Wamona?” Anthony wheezed, blood flowing his mouth.

  He suddenly grabbed Denny’s arm and pulled him close. Denny wasn’t sure what to do, so he let Anthony bring him down to him.

  “Wamona?” he gasped again, looking into Denny’s face, which was no more than six inches from his own.

  “Yeah,” Denny choked, trying to hold the tears back. “Wamona,” he said softly to the boy.

  “Mewideth,” he railed. “Mewideth…”

  “Meredith’s okay, Anthony,” he told him, trying to smile through the tears. “You saved her…did you know that, huh? You saved her life.”

  “Mewideth…” he uttered softly, the light leaving his eyes. “Mewi…deth.”

  Anthony slowly turned his head away, gave one last rail, then stopped moving all together. A choke was all that escaped Denny’s lips as he put his hand to his mouth. He took a step back and pulled his shirt over his head. He walked back up to rock and gently placed it over Anthony’s face. He wished he had something to place over the young boy that had once been a menacing werewolf, but all had left was his t-shirt, and he would probably catch his death without it. He would just have to remember the site for later on, when someone could come out and take care of the dead.

  Denny stood out in the little, rocky dell, shivering. He wished that he weren’t skin and bones. He looked up the mountainside trying to get his bearings. A few lightning flashes later, he saw the top of the hill. He couldn’t tell, but he thought he might’ve seen Lauren and Meredith peering down the hillside.

  He looked back at Anthony and the young boy lying on the altar of death. With the wind, rain, and lightning swirling all around it, the scene reminded him of a painting he saw in a Goth bar in Oklahoma City last year. Goth had seemed so important to him. This should’ve been a Goth’s wet dream. Here they were…Death, Destruction, and Monsters. He should be having the time of his life, but he was shivering like a Chihuahua, scared to death, and hoping that his family was all right. He gave Anthony and the young boy one last look before heading back up the mountain.

  CHAPTER 84

  There were several thousand people gathered at what was supposed to be The Free Vinnie “Mad Dog” Carleton Festival. Carleton, aka The L.A. Vivisector, had murdered, or was believed to have murdered, eleven people in the mid-eighties, and had been sentenced to Death Row. Throughout the years, he had maintained his innocence, even though there were witnesses at each and every murder. But, as usual, an actor, then a singer, then a chat show host, all believed him to be innocent of any wrongdoing, and that the witnesses were liars, thieves, and cads of all types, even though there was a doctor, a pastor, and a college professor among them.

  The festival was to have all of the movie stars and singers get together and raise awareness for the plight of the poor man who has convinced everyone in the entertainment business that he’s guilty of nothing short of being at the wrong place at the wrong time…oh yeah, and he was sexually abused by everyone he met as a child.

  Instead, the L.A. cops and soldiers were trying to use it as a gathering place for refugees and people who weren’t sure what was happening around them. But they weren’t the only ones there. Many a soon-to-be werewolf stood with the ‘already turned’, mixing in with the great horde that stood before a huge stage. They were there under Simon’s telepathic orders. He didn’t want them to go nutballs just yet. He wanted them to wait until the right moment to pounce.

  He stood in the middle of the crowd, sunglasses on…not so much to disguise himself from all of the authorities that were after him, and who probably knew who he was by now, but because the sun was directly in his eyes. It was about fifteen minutes from going completely down, and it was as bright as he’d ever seen it. Most of the smog had started to spread out…another weather anomaly, he guessed. He saw that many of his new pack were wearing sunglasses, although there were a lot without them. Simon didn’t want any of the ones with the large brown eyeballs to be seen by anyone. The pigs and the soldier boys were on the lookout for the shark-eyed look.

  Jiminy Xmas, he thought to himself, smiling as he stood next to D’Andre and Tino, the Mexican kid whose nose had grown back since he’d bit most of it off. Not all, mind you, Simon could still see some redness from the accelerated regeneration of his shnoz.

  Simon looked over the crowd. He saw actors and singers and politicians who were about to turn in a few minutes. He saw the old bum whose hand he’d bitten roaming through the throng, as well as some other newbies who looked vaguely familiar.

  They were roughly standing fifty-feet away from the stage, which was littered with what he guessed were councilmen and women, and other important officials, along, of course, with many cops and soldiers.

  A woman stepped forward with a bullhorn. Simon didn’t know if she was the mayor, chief-of-police or what. She could’ve been Queen of L.A. for all he knew or cared.

  “Please stay calm!” she screamed into the bullhorn, causing it to squelch loudly. Everyone covered their ears in pain. It was worse for Simon and the pack, whose new sensitive canine hearing, greatly magnified high-pitched sounds.

  “Don’t howl!” he screamed silently, looking down, grimacing with his fingers in his ears, in hope that the pack could hear him. “Don’t howl!”

  He could see D’Andre and Tino with their fingers in their ears.

  “We want you to stay calm!” the lady screamed again, but this time pulling her mouth back a little. “The police department and the military have advised us that it is best to stay here for the moment until we realize what is going on! It’ll be dark soon and…”

  Before she could finish, a loud roar went up from the crowd. Simon stretched his neck to get a better look at the stage. As the crowd continued to roar, Simon continued to look for the source. Son-of-a-Mexican Whore, Simon wanted to scream. He was just o
ver six-feet, and was having to stand on his toes now to see the stage, because some shithead that was already taller than everyone else, had a cowboy hat sitting atop his head. This shit-for-brains wasn’t one of the Pack. Good, he thought. Maybe in a couple of minutes, he might just go up and remove the hat from the gentlemen…along with his head, too.

  Just about the time he’d decided that he was going to have to make his thoughts a reality, he saw what the big deal was. Werewolf Harry had entered the stage. He was to have originally been the emcee for the evening’s feature, not because he thought the guy was innocent or anything. No, it was just a gig to Werewolf Harry. They could stick the whole electric chair up the murderin’ fucker’s ass for all he cared. He was just promoting his show, that’s all. Simon had lucked out and found him at the station during the day yesterday. He was in, editing a commercial for the festival when Simon walked straight into the booth. Thinking that this shitkicker was a psycho…which he was…Harry jumped up from his chair, and came at Simon with a switchblade in his hand. Simon easily overpowered the much shorter man. He had been shocked to find out that Harry was only around five-feet-eight, with a stocky build, a thin salt-and-pepper beard, and a large pompadour sticking up a half a foot from the top of his head.

  The man did have some power and probably some street smarts, but he was no match for Simon, who held the knife arm away from him, while pulling the man closer to him with his other arm.

  “What’re ya’ a fag!” Harry was trying to free himself, but having no luck.

  “No, just a fan,” Simon replied, pulling the back of Harry’s collar down, exposing his neck. “A really big fan.”

  Harry screamed as Simon sank his canines into the back of Harry’s neck. He didn’t bite him hard, just enough to break the skin and make sure his saliva got in the bite marks. Once he was sure of this, he dropped the DJ to the floor.

  “Shit…man!” Harry gasped, rising to his hands and knees, but keeping his head hung low. He reached his right hand up and placed on the back of his neck. “What the fuck’s your deal, Man?” he asked, grimacing as he felt the size of the wound.

  Simon stood over the man. He was beginning to admire the cahonies on this fellow. This dude…much like himself…was a true lobo. The man had been married five times…just loved ‘em and left ‘em.

  He bent down to one knee and put his mouth to Harry’s ear.

  “My friend…you are about to become the most famous DJ in the world,” he whispered softly.

  “I already am,” Harry groaned, his head still hung low.

  “No…you’re gonna be worldwide in every language in every country in this citole of a world, and you’re gonna do it from now till the end of time, Bro.”

  With this, he slapped him on the shoulder and left the DJ on his hands and knees. And here he was tonight in all of his glory, bowing to the crowd. Simon watched as Harry approached the woman with the megaphone, and then snatched it out of her hand, much to the crowd’s delight. Unlike most of them, Harry wasn’t wearing sunglasses. He looked as if he wanted everyone to see his big, brown soon-to-be-a-werewolf eyes. That irked Simon just a tad, but he figured what the hell, there’s another lobo out there. Simon had just wanted to wait for the right moment, but ‘See-la-Vee’ as the feller once said.

  “Howl is everybody tonight!” he screamed into the megaphone.

  The crowd sent up a deafening roar.

  “Has your blood started to burn yet?”

  The crowd cheered again, but not everyone got the joke. Simon watched as the newbies began to howl.

  “Tonight starts a new era! Here,” he yelled, pointing up at the moon. “is our new mother. She’s big! She’s bright, and she’s beautiful! And she loves you…and you…and you…!”

  He continued pointing at different newbies in the crowd who howled as he pointed them out. The officials on stage just looked at one another, confused at why this man was working the crowd up into a frenzy.

  “Tonight,” he continued, “We were originally gathered here to raise awareness about the plight of our friend Vinnie Carleton! Well, why change the evening’s festivities? That’s right! All you guys and girls and lycanthropes alike, put your hands together please, for the man himself! He’s the cuttin’est man since Jack the Ripper! He’s the evilest man all the way from San Diego to San Francisco Ba-a-ay!”

  Simon smiled as the man bayed the word ‘Bay’, followed by the pack, plus a few others who had no idea what was about to happen, including the officials that were standing on the stage.

  “So put your paws and claws together for the one…the only…all the way from Death Row! Mr. Vinnie ‘Mad Dog’ Carleton!”

  The new pack went wild, some literally frothing at the mouth, when out from the wings walks Vinnie Carleton, six-foot-three-inches in height, and a weight of AT LEAST three hundred pounds, with a shaved head, prison clothes, and hands the size of a couple of cable dishes. He was followed by a half dozen men who looked just like him. Between them, there couldn’t have been more than six inches of un-inked skin.

  As they entered the stage, they quickly disarmed the cops and soldiers, and dispatched them just as quickly. Many in the crowd…the actual refugees…were becoming nervous…not so, the pack. They were going ten ways batshit.

  Vinnie walked across the stage while waving at the crowd. There were a lot of nervous “oohs”, but the howling and applause soon drowned them out.

  “Well, I’ll be got-damned,” Simon said softly. The sumbitch was a newbie. He guessed that he’d been spared at Chino, because a lot of them weren’t. Simon had wanted the prisoners and mobsters, but werewolves can’t be completely controlled, especially the new ones, he figured himself included, but his instincts paternal or maternal were stronger, because every werewolf here could be traced back to him.

  Simon continued to watch as Vinnie came up behind the councilwoman or mayor or whoever the shit she was, and grabbed her by the nape of the neck and picked her up off the stage. He held the startled woman aloft with one hand, swinging her back and forth like a rag doll for all to see. Again most of the crowd was becoming rattled by all of the strange events that were happening around them, but even though they outnumbered the pack five-to-one, the pack’s howling equaled or surpassed the decibels of the mortals.

  The woman’s face was contorted in pain as he continued to parade her around the stage by her neck. He stopped as he got to the edge of center stage. Vinnie stood on his tiptoes as he raised the woman as high as he possibly could, then suddenly with lightning speed, he dropped to one knee, and slammed the woman down across his knee sideways in a side body slam. Even through the screams of horror and screams of ecstasy, the crowd could hear her bones crack as her body bent sideways almost in two. The woman’s eyes were blank now as Vinnie picked her lifeless body up over his head, and then threw her into the crowd. Another official, a man, was about to run, but Harry caught him by the throat as he tried to run past him, and then picked him up off of his feet. He had the man’s throat in one hand and the bullhorn in the other. The crowd watched as Harry snapped his wrist just a little, followed by the man’s face turning red, his eyes going blank, and his head lolling to the side, because his neck had been snapped.

  Werewolf Harry held out the bullhorn to Carleton as if he were handing him his sword, complete with bow and all. Vinnie took the bullhorn, high-fived Harry, and walked to the edge of the stage. Many in the crowd began to move back nervously, but the newbies managed to keep them corralled.

  “Hello!” he screamed into the bullhorn. The pack continued to whoop and holler. “I sure appreciate all of you coming out here tonight for my release from Death Row party! Getting’ all of you actors and singers and politicians together for this surprisingly small crowd must’ve been tough, but I do appreciate it. Suckerin’ you dumbshits into thinkin’ I didn’t kill nobody, but as anyone with a lick of sense knows, I sliced up those people!”

  Simon thought he could get a man-crush on this guy.

 
“But I appreciate you looking down on me from your ivory towers, and having pity on my poor innocent soul!”

  With this, Vinnie and Harry began to howl, as did the rest of the pack. Simon looked at the sun. Couldn’t be more than five minutes now.

  Simon himself, was about to join in the howling, when he saw something move a couple of rows ahead of him.

  “Ya’ gotta be shittin’ me!” Simon exclaimed. “It can’t be!”

  But it could be, and it was. Moving from right to left five rows up, he saw what he’d first thought to be a green Frisbee floating past the people on Row 5. It couldn’t have been though, because it was moving too slowly. It looked more like one of those computer-generated recreations of a UFO silently gliding by behind a group of mountain peaks. But this wasn’t a Frisbee or a UFO…it was a green-fuckin’-beret! It was moving stealthily along the row. He could see that the insignia was aimed slightly toward him. When he saw a slight gap between audience members, he finally got to see the face on under the beret. Shit! It was that little sumbitch that’d been chasing him earlier. That was it! He’d had enough! He was just going to have to kill the little shit.

  He was mulling over the ‘how’ and the ‘where’ he was going to rip this soldier boy in two, when his hand moved unconsciously to his side to the bullet wound, which was still festering because of the silver. He didn’t bother with the other wound…he could still feel its sting.

  Simon looked up to find the beret and the face that went with it gone. Oh shit. He’d looked away and the little bastard was taking advantage of it. He was going to have to scoot again, although he was good and Goddamned sick of running. He’d never run away from a fight before, but this asshole was picking the most inopportune moments, for Simon anyway, to come after him.