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

by Terry Yates

  Just as Simon was about to get the hell out of there, for the moment, he caught a break. As if choreographed, the new members of the pack began to double over in pain, their blood beginning to boil. As soon as they did, Simon saw the Green Beret’, who also hadn’t been expecting it, and ended up standing out in the open, surrounded by what was to become over a hundred werewolves. Simon took off his sunglasses, smiled his brown-eyed smile at the beret, then gave him the three-fingered girl wave. Not to be outdone, the soldier, unaffected by what was going on around him, raised his rifle.

  “Mother fucker!” Simon spat.

  He took off running just as someone’s head exploded next to him. He had to get out of this little bull’s range for a few minutes. If he was loaded with silver, which he guessed that he was, he didn’t need to be in mid-transformation with him around. He’d be able to just walk up on him and shoot him.

  Simon rounded the corner of a building and ran out into the darkening street, which was blocked off by cop cars, ambulances, fire trucks, jeeps, and tanks, which he had no trouble skirting around. He ran out of the street and into a neighborhood, running between houses and into alleyways. As he sprinted, he could feel his blood burning hot. He didn’t have a lot of time before he turned.

  As he ran through an alleyway, he heard helicopters above him. Surely, they were just patrolling the area and not just looking for him. Probably news choppers, he thought smiling. He had to be far enough away from the pesky soldier boy by now, to find a secluded place to turn.

  Just as Simon was about to cut through a backyard, a blinding light hit him from above. Son-of-a-bitch! Simon didn’t have a lot of time, so he just burst through a backyard wooden fence, and then crashed through a sliding glass door, jumped over a dining room table, and then smashed through the front door and out into another street, where he dodged to the side of a house at an almost incredible rate of speed.

  Simon could feel his fangs starting to poke painfully through his lips, but still he kept running. He was running just ahead of the helicopter light as he exploded through the back door of another house just as his blood began to feel like it was on fire. As he crashed through the second house, things started to become blurry. He thought that he was hearing screams and seeing distorted faces, but he wasn’t sure.

  Again, he didn’t slow down as he smashed the second house’s front door to splinters. When he hit the night air, he found himself panting and growling and it felt like his eyeballs were going to burst out of his head.

  As he ran into the street, he found himself in the path of an SUV. He heard the brakes screech as he leapt over the top of the vehicle, ran into another yard and ran into another house.

  The three cops in the helicopter…the pilot, the light man, and the sniper, watched as the light finally shone on their perp again. He had just jumped over an SUV and had just splintered another front door and smashed through another back one and over a pool and a fence at lightning fast speed. The chopper rose into the air to get up over the trees and power lines. It managed to keep the spotlight on the perp as he ran through one house after another, but it wouldn’t be able to for much longer. The man was about to start outrunning the chopper.

  The perp must’ve destroyed or semi-destroyed eight houses, before the cops didn’t see it anymore. They hadn’t seen it run out of the eighth house. The light shone on the unmarred front door, and into the darkened house. Either no one was at home or the perp had knocked out the power, either way, they had their man.

  The pilot was going to land the helicopter in the front yard. As they descended, only the pilot took his eyes off of the front door. The light man and the sniper were both glued to it. When the chopper was twenty from the ground and still descending, the light left the front door when the light man thought he saw movement on the roof. He had. Before he could turn the light, the werewolf that had been Simon Shoals, jumped from the roof…and onto the helicopter. The Lobo landed half-in and half-out of the chopper, grabbing hold of anything that it could, including the stick, which he pulled down on, causing the helicopter to turn upside down as it crashed onto the ground, the blades cutting up a new mown lawn. The werewolf dug, clawed, shredded, and bit until everyone inside was dead within forty-five seconds.

  The blades were stuck in the ground when the werewolf crawled out of the wreckage. It stood up on its hind legs covered in flesh, bone, and blood, and loving every moment of it. The creature turned its head to the moon and howled a victory howl. It heard more howls from around the surrounding neighborhoods, followed by screams and sirens, and all the lovely sounds of the night that Lobos lived for.

  CHAPTER 85

  “There it is!” Jefferson screamed, letting go a round from the AK-47 as Jordan and Williams ducked out of the way.

  The bullets from the assault rifle disintegrated the boulder that the werewolf had been crouching behind, sending bits of rock flying all over the place. Jordan and Williams were now down to one handgun apiece and were saving their bullets until they could get back to the ammo truck.

  Over several more hills, they could hear more gunfire, meaning that someone was still alive, but also telling them that there were more just like this bastard roaming about. The werewolves had duped the whole group. They had split them up and kept them apart. They’d lost Peter Valkenberg a long time ago. He had seen something and had taken off in that direction. They sure could use his, Uzi, AK, and Experience right now. The werewolf that they were fighting had literally thrown a boulder at the all three of them. Jefferson had dodged left, and Jordan right, which had left Williams caught in the middle, where all that he could do was duck. The rock split in two, and while one piece completely missed him, the other had hit him in the shoulder, fracturing it. Williams had lain prone as the werewolf was about to attack him. Before it could, Jordan, still injured himself, shot the creature in the side, causing it to retreat into the rocks until it formulated another plan.

  “These fuckers are smart!” Jordan yelled over the rain, checking the clip in his revolver. Five bullets remained. He’d have to hang onto them. “How many do you got left?” he asked Williams, who was sitting on the ground, and leaning against a large rock, his face contorted in pain as he checked his last pistol. He started to shout, but suddenly stopped, and instead, raised three fingers.

  “Shit!” Jordan exclaimed. “Jefferson? Jefferson!”

  Jefferson had been leaning over a large rock, his rifle aimed and ready.

  “Jefferson!” Jordan screamed again. “How much you still got?”

  “What?” Jefferson asked, quickly looking back over his shoulder before returning it to the problem at hand.

  “Sorry. How much ammunition are you still carrying?”

  “I’ve got about half of this clip left, and then that’s it for my long guns, Pardna’. I’ve got two fully loaded pistols left though.”

  “Well, we can’t divide ‘em. We all have different guns,” Jordan yelled, now finding himself looking more closely for the werewolf.

  “Here!” Jefferson shouted over his shoulder. “Give this,” he grunted as he drew a pistol, “to the corporal!” Without looking over his shoulder, Jefferson reached his arm behind him, the pistol butt-end in his hand, “ and give me his!”

  Jordan took the pistol, and then ran over to where Williams still lay against the boulder.

  “You all right, Buddy?” Jordan asked him, still keeping an eye out for the werewolf.

  “Yeah,” Williams gasped, his usually high voice had dropped a few octaves from the pain.

  Jordan helped the fat corporal to his feet. Williams leaned back against the rock, and put his hand on his shoulder.

  “Here,” Jordan said, placing Jefferson’s gun in Williams’ hand, while taking his. “Full clip. Make ‘em count!”

  Williams silently nodded his head before Jordan turned and ran back to Jefferson.

  “Here ya’ go,” he said, handing Williams’ gun up to him.

  “You take mine,” Jefferson told
him, handing his other gun to Jordan, while taking both of their pistols. “That makes us all about the same, ammunition wise.”

  “What’re we gonna do?” Jordan asked.

  “I say we get the piece-of-shit!” Jefferson answered, back looking at Jordan with a grin on his face. “Let’s spend everything we’ve got on this fucker! What do ya’ say?”

  “If you’re waitin’ on me, you’re backing up!” Jordan screamed maniacally, just as several lightning bolts flashed. He smiled as the rain fell down on his face.

  The two looked at Williams, who managed a weak, painful smile, but a smile it was. He nodded his head as Jefferson ducked down next to Jordan, the two of them in a squat now. Jefferson put his index finger to his lips. The three sat quietly, the rain falling down hard on them. For a moment, there was nothing, but then they heard movement, followed by a low, guttural growl. The trio cocked their ears toward the sound. The beast was twenty or thirty feet away behind a grouping of large rocks. They were going to have to run blindly but shoot carefully. They would have surprise on their side…the werewolf would never suspect the little two-leggers to rush it. If anything, it was back there formulating some sort of plan to rush them.

  They listened again to get their bearings straight. When they heard the beast again, it sounded closer. The three soldiers each checked and then cocked their weapons. Jefferson looked at the other two and began to silently count. One! Two! Three! On the silent three, Jefferson screamed, followed by Jordan, and then Williams, and the three ran toward the lone werewolf, neither side knowing exactly where the other one was, but claws and fangs were out, and guns were cocked and ready, as the three soldiers converged on the werewolf.

  While Jefferson, Jordan, and Williams dealt with their werewolf, Potts, FranAnne, Sam, and Mary Sue were dealing with two of them…the Leader of the Pack and the one that Denny had thrown the mercury on, its face and chest burning with silver smoke. Needless to say, the two werewolves were quite agitated with the quintet. The two factions had been playing Hide-n-Seek with one another for quite some time, each able to use the large boulders as camouflage, as they rose up the hills…but suddenly, they weren’t going up anymore…they were leveling off into the plateaus and mesas, where there were less rocks and a little grass. Basically, they were almost in the wide-open. Several quick bolts of lightning told them that they were only several hundred feet from cliffside. These buggers didn’t slant downhill into valleys or dells, but instead, dropped straight down into the Big Unknown. It was if they were on a small mountainside meadow, which was probably beautiful on a mid-April morning, but right now, under the bright orange moon, it looked like the cover of a Gothic novel.

  Potts and Sam were taking on the huge leader, while FranAnne and Mary Sue were trying to keep the other one at bay. They’d all spent most of their cartridges, so they were trying to make them count. For their part, the werewolves weren’t making it easy on them. They’d figured out where the little hot stones that hurt them were coming from and were not making it easy for the two-leggers to aim at them, as they were ducking behind the scattered rocks, and running zigzag and leaping through the air, doing everything that they could to make them waste their ammunition.

  Like Peter Valkenberg, Sam had taken a machete from the weapons truck and was taking mighty swings at The Leader, while Potts was on the other side, swinging the silver-tipped hatchet. The creature was swinging its claws at them, once almost catching Potts across the other side of his face. Potts had managed to cut the werewolf’s arm/foreleg, causing it to scream in pain as Sam connected with its back Unfortunately when the beast spun around, the machete stayed imbedded in its back. Again, it howled in pain, but pain wasn’t going to stop it from killing this little two-legger.

  The werewolf was on Sam in a second, digging its claws into his shoulders and picking him up off of the ground. Sam yelled as the thing’s claws dug into him and opened its mouth. Potts wouldn’t have a chance if he tried to run up and put the hatchet in the thing’s back, so he aimed the hatchet…and threw it. The mini-ax flew end over end and made a whirring sound just before it connected with the monster’s back…and bounced off. The Leader dropped Sam and spun on Potts. He could only guess that part of the blade, the point or something, annoyed the thing…or perhaps it was just Potts himself that caused the creature great agitation. Either way, it was coming for him and fast, taking only three large steps to before it was on top of him. As it was about to grab him, a shot rang out. The werewolf’s face twisted into a mask of pain as it fell forward on top of Potts, knocking the wind out of him.

  Potts tried to shove the creature off of him, but was struggling. The thing must’ve weighed five hundred. He was surprised it hadn’t crushed him like it had Sgt. Cohen on the island. He continued to shove until the creature felt a little lighter. Someone was helping him. Potts pushed and kicked until he crawled out from under the beast. When he looked up to see who had helped him, all he saw was a silhouette…a skinny silhouette holding a pistol at its side.

  “What took you so long?” Potts asked the silhouette.

  “You’re welcome,” Kyler answered, extending his hand.

  Potts ignored it, then picked himself up off of the ground. The two looked at the monster. Wisps of silver smoke were coming out of a large bullet hole that was dead center in the werewolf’s back. The skinny doctor had made a brilliant shot.

  “Not bad,” he told Kyler.

  Kyler hadn’t heard him though. He had marched over to Sam who was still lying on the ground, one shoulder bleeding badly, and groaning lightly. He opened his eyes wide when he heard Kyler’s revolver cock.

  “No! No! No!” Sam screamed, his hands out in front of him.

  “You told me to shoot you if you were ever bitten!” Kyler screamed back, now aiming the pistol at Sam’s head.

  “It didn’t bite me! It didn’t bite me! It only clawed me! See…? No bite…just claw! No Bite! Heh…heh…no bite!”

  “Are you sure?” Kyler asked, still aiming the revolver at him.

  “Just as sure as your hand is shaking.”

  “He says he’s not bit, Kyler,” Potts said, joining them. He had retrieved his hatchet and was replacing it back into the belt.

  Kyler looked over at Potts. The handkerchief was stuck to the side of what was left of the side of his face, making the flatness of it extremely noticeable.

  “Sorry,” Kyler said as he dropped his pistol, and then dropped to one knee beside Sam, who had relaxed and lain his head back down.

  “It’s okay, Doc,” Sam assured him, smiling through the pain.

  “Why won’t anyone call me Richard?” he asked, wincing as he pulled Sam’s T-Shirt away from the wound…or wounds. There were three very deep claw marks on his right shoulder. His left shoulder looked like it was going to have some nasty bruises, but looked fine otherwise. “This one was a lefty,” Kyler announced, proud of himself for that deduction.

  “Brilliant deduction, Richard, but we need to get a move on,” Potts told him through gritted teeth. “The others might need our…”

  Before he could finish, they heard a trio of voices shouting, and then the sound of rapid gunfire. This was followed by several different yelps of pain. The shooting lasted no longer than a few seconds, but the yelling continued.

  “Get Fong to his feet!” Potts ordered Kyler, who had no trouble obeying, seeing how the sound of a werewolf nearby always seemed to give him a little added juice.

  Both men grunted as Kyler gently but firmly pulled Sam to his feet, and let him lean against him until he could get his strength back, which didn’t take long once he saw a werewolf sprinting out from a group of rocks and onto the cliffside. The creature had a half-dozen different places on its body from which silver smoke poured. The soldiers must’ve hit it good, because the smoke was cutting through the rain and the darkness.

  No sooner had they gotten used to the fleeing werewolf, which was jumping and zigzagging, once coming within twenty feet of them, than
Jefferson, Jordan, and Williams, emerged from behind the rocks and into the clearing. Jefferson lead the group, Jordan and Williams, both injured were helping each other. As they veered toward them in pursuit of the werewolf, they were all wild-eyed and screaming. Their revolvers were out but they had stopped shooting them.

  “We’re chasing it with empty guns, Sir!” Jefferson gasped as he pulled up alongside them, and then immediately doubled over and began to gasp for air.

  “What?” Potts asked, confused, watching Kyler as he ran toward Jordan and Williams.

  “We rushed it and just unloaded on it!”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, Sir…even Cpl. Williams was giving it hell!”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” said Potts, almost grinning. “Where’s the German? I bet he took out a few, huh?”

  “We got split up from him, Colonel!”

  “He’s dead,” Kyler informed them as he helped Jordan and Williams. “The twins, too.”

  “They’re all dead?” Potts asked, a confused look crossing his half-face.

  Kyler nodded his head. “I don’t know about the other children. Hopefully they stayed put.”

  In the distance, the six of them heard more gunfire. FranAnne, Mary Sue, and Joe must be dealing with another one.

  “Jefferson!” Potts yelled. “Come on! Kyler, take care of this bunch!

  Kyler silently nodded as he attended to Williams’ shoulder.

  “What do we use for ammo?” Jefferson asked him.

  Potts smiled as he patted his hatchet and handed Jefferson Sam’s bloody machete.

  Denny was afraid that they were lost. The rain, the lightning, and the thunder were making it harder for them to see. He’d been following the sounds of gunfire. As strange as that seemed, he at least knew that where there was gunfire, there were people. With Lauren and Meredith in tow, the three had gone up one hill and crossed over several more, passing familiar rock after familiar rock. To make matters worse, they didn’t hear any more gunfire.