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

by Terry Yates

  To FranAnne, it was Hawkins on the island all over again. He’d saved all of their Asses and made it through the whole ordeal, only to have the werewolf that had been Cpl. Marcus Dixon, pull him down off a helicopter ladder, causing him to plunge to his death. Now, here was Jefferson trying to do the same thing and looking like he was going to end up pretty much the same way that Hawkins did.

  “We’re taking off!” the leader screamed.

  Just as he was about to signal the thumbs-up, Mary Sue touched his arm.

  “Please, give him a chance!” she pleaded. “I’m a cop, too…not on your level of course, but I lost two deputies today, and know that many others of our kind have fallen to those things. I’ve been with these people for two days now, and I can honestly say they’re the bravest people I know. You can’t let ‘em make it to the end, only to be left behind by their own kind.”

  “Start pulling back, but keep it low!” the cop said into his wireless radio that he kept around his head, with the mic constantly up to his mouth. “Shine the light on the ladder, but start pulling back now.

  The officer hardly got the words out of his mouth before the helicopter had started to move backwards, but keeping the ladder and the light close to the ground.

  Jefferson had not expected the chopper to move, but there it was, pulling away from him just like in a bad dream. Suddenly, the spotlight shone downward toward the ground. It was shining on the ladder. They were giving him a chance! He suddenly got a second wind and another burst of speed…and even one more, when he heard a completely unexpected shot ring out from the helicopter, followed by a loud thud, then a grunt, and then a howl. They’d hit the thing, but he knew that if the bullets weren’t filled or coated with silver, they weren’t going to keep it down for long, so he was going to take advantage of the moment, and haul ass blindly toward the helicopter and the edge of the cliff.

  Onboard the rescue chopper, everyone was yelling and screaming for Jefferson to catch up. They cheered when the cop shot the werewolf, but just as quickly deflated when they saw it get up again.

  “How much farther do we have…come back,” The lead cop asked into his radio.

  “Going by the lightning…” the pilot came back.”…about fifty yards.”

  The cop looked at the eight…nine refugees, including the dog. Three of them were soldiers, and two of the three were hurt. There was also a sheriff and several of the cop’s own people. These people looked like they’d gone through the ringer and back. Even the dog looked like a patchwork quilt.

  “Keep going like you’re going!” he ordered the pilot. “But keep going…all the way to the end…and then…keep going.”

  Jefferson thought that his heart was going to pound out of his chest, but he didn’t slow down. He’d figured out what the helicopter was doing. It had to get out of there, but it was giving him a chance.

  He continued to chase the light, knowing that it was his beacon, literally his lifeline. The sky was so lit up that he could see the ground ahead of him. Jefferson heard the creature catching up again, this time it was snarling like a crazed dog. It wanted him badly. Keep running, he kept telling himself. It’s your only chance.

  Kyler and Potts lay on their stomachs and watched as the helicopter, Jefferson, and the werewolf had an almost comical, silent movie era chase going. Potts had thrown the both of them to the ground. If Jefferson did or didn’t get away from the thing, it was still going to be on the mountain with them, and it was best not to let it know that…especially if Jefferson escaped.

  “That’s the style, Jefferson!” Potts exclaimed softly. “That’s the style!”

  “Go. Go. Go. Go,” Kyler whispered, never taking his eyes off of the sight.

  “Come on, Jefferson!” everyone in the chopper screamed.

  Not only were the survivors yelling their encouragement, but the cops themselves were also cheering him on.

  “We’re going too fast,” Mary Sue told the lead cop.

  “He can’t slow down,” the cop replied. “I can’t put everyone inside here at risk. Your friend’s just going to have to catch up.”

  Jefferson was gaining ground on the helicopter. He was no more than ten feet away from the ladder…and then eight…and then five. When he got within three feet, he began to reach out for the ladder. Just a few more steps and he’d have it. He’d be home free, but he didn’t know how much room was left in front of him, and he couldn’t hear the werewolf now, because of the helicopter noise.

  Jefferson’s hands were no more than a foot from the ladder, when he noticed that the grass was disappearing and dirt was starting to show through. He had to be near the end. He took his eyes off the ladder for one second to look at the terrain ahead. After several lightning bolts went off, he was shocked to find that he was less than a hundred from the big drop-off. Jefferson returned his eyes to the ladder, and began to reach out for it again.

  The others continued to scream as Jefferson got closer. FranAnne found herself grabbing Sam’s good arm and squeezing hard. Jordan and Williams, both in pain, shouted their encouragement as well as Lauren and Denny, who were both crowded around a single window. To FranAnne, it looked like he was falling behind.

  “Come on, Jefferson!” she said softly, looking out the window.

  For a moment, Jefferson seemed to be falling behind, but another close lightning bolt and another sinister howl, showed him that he wasn’t at all done yet. The light was blinding as he reached out for the ladder. It was just out of his reach and he knew that he must be toward the edge of the cliff. He was running out of time AND room. If he didn’t do something now, he might not be able to do anything, so…he jumped for the ladder. As he did, he felt the top of his pushoff foot drop down a little when he jumped, telling him that he’d just jumped off the edge of the cliff.

  Time stood still for the young man as he found himself in midair, windmilling both arms in an attempt to grab the ladder. He knew that he was close, but the light was bright and he could hardly see a thing. He continued to blindly grasp with both hands as the world was about to fall out from under him. His right hand hit something. It had to be the ladder. He lost it for a second, but found it again, and shoved his arm between two rungs, securing himself momentarily. Pain shot through his arm as he twisted around, trying to reach the ladder with his left arm now, swinging it out as far as he could and then twisting his body so the left hand could reach it…which it did, also grasping and clawing at any part of it that he could, finally bunching his left arm through the rungs, securing him completely.

  The group inside had been watching the chase and hadn’t realized that they were past the edge until they saw Jefferson jump, his arms and legs flailing, grasping for anything that they could get hold of. They gasped, then cheered, when they saw that he’d made it. The first thing that FranAnne did, was to look for the werewolf. Her heart sank when she saw it, sprinting toward the edge of the cliff at an incredible speed. She could see that it had no plans on stopping at the edge. It was all or nothing for this werewolf. There was a collective gasp as the creature jumped from the edge of the cliff, straight toward Jefferson…

  Jefferson had quickly untangled his arms from the ladder, a decision he regretted a few moments later, because now he was holding onto the third to the bottom rung by his hands, which was a strain on both his hands AND his shoulders. At least when he was tangled up in it, he was secure even though it hurt like hell.

  As he hung in midair, the bright light suddenly went out, which Jefferson was grateful for. Simultaneously, a gust of wind caused the chopper to spin slightly, causing the ladder to twist around for a second. When it did, he was facing the mountain, and saw what looked like two large, yellow UFOs coming toward him. Jefferson would’ve much rather dealt with a couple of flying saucers than what he knew was flying toward him. Jefferson looked back over his shoulder as the ladder twisted back away from the mountain.

  “Not this brother!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  T
hen, with all of the strength that he had left, the ex-gymnast pulled his body up, straightened his legs, and turned upside down. His feet quickly shot between a rung, where he immediately wrapped his legs around the ladder. As he hung upside down, he looked below him just in time to see the creature clawing at the air below him, and was looking up at him, its yellow eyes burning with fury. As it began to drop into the blackness below, Jefferson gave the beast the old feminine three-finger wave and smiled at it as it disappeared from view, still trying to get at him even as it fell farther away. Jefferson screamed a loud and long victory scream as he flew upside over the giant chasm.

  “Did he make it?” Potts asked, having trouble seeing from that far away, and in the dark, to boot.

  Kyler peered toward the huge, orange moon. Suddenly a silhouette appeared in front of the moon…an upside down silhouette…an upside down silhouette that began to yee-haw gleefully.

  “Yeah…he made it,” Kyler finally answered, smiling.

  “What’s that yelling?” Potts asked him, still trying to find the MP.

  “Proof,” Kyler answered, still watching the silhouette as it finally passed the moon and disappeared into the darkness.

  The two if them stood and looked at the night sky until first, the helicopter disappeared, then the sound of the chopper itself. Kyler stood there and imagined what it must be like in that helicopter at that very moment. He was pretty sure that they were cheering and clapping Jefferson on the back, as well as each other. Champagne all around!

  “We better get to shelter,” he heard Potts say, before turning and walking away.

  Kyler sighed and turned to follow Potts. His first thought when he turned around was that he had been hit by a bus, because whatever slammed him into Potts, had to have been made by metal. There would be no reason for a bus to be up in the mountains, but there he was, flying through the air, conjoined to Potts. Both men grunted as they came to a sudden stop against a large rock. Pain shot through Kyler’s left side from the force of the blow. His right side didn’t hurt as much because Potts’ body had absorbed the blow. Potts, on the other hand, wasn’t moving. He was lying on his side, away from Kyler, his whole body limp, and lying against the rock.

  Kyler groaned loudly as he made his way to his hands and knees, desperately trying to figure out what had just happened, but the white light from the pain had not quite gone away, and he was a little addled by the blow. God, he hoped he didn’t have a concussion.

  He could almost see now, and found himself crawling toward Potts, who still lay prone against the rock. Just as he reached him, his vision returned. The doctor started to roll Potts over, but just as he placed his hands on the colonel’s shoulder, he saw something move against the rock. It was a shadow…a shadow that was growing longer, and beginning to form at a rapid rate of speed, finally blocking out the moon behind him. When the shadow finally took form, Kyler, still on his knees, knew that it could only be one of three things. Either it was Batman’s emergency beacon…Scoobie-Doo…or one big fuckin’ werewolf. Once he heard the snarl that soon followed the shadow’s formation, he knew that the odds were against it being one of the first two.

  In the back of Potts’ pants, Kyler saw the small .32 that the cops had given them. He wasn’t sure if his own was still in the back of his pants, or if he’d lost it while flying through the air. He didn’t want to make any sudden movements until he absolutely had to, so he reached slowly down, and gently pulled the pistol out of Potts’ pants, and cocked it as quickly as he could, because he knew that he didn’t have much time. He was right, because the shadow was coming straight down at him.

  Kyler quickly hit his back and then rolled away several feet. He looked up to find the huge werewolf that they’d thought they’d killed, no more than two feet from his face and closing the gap quickly. Shit, he thought to himself, they hadn’t made sure that the thing was dead, and it had played possum just like they all knew that it was prone to do, but neither of them caught it. Neither had waited for the creature to take human form again.

  When it was no more than a foot away from his own face, Kyler pulled the trigger three times. Two of the bullets smashed into its forehead and the other into its left eye, putting out one of its angry yellow lights, if not permanently, then at least temporarily.

  The creature’s head snapped back with each shot, and it fell to the side of Kyler, who was already rolling, scooting, and crawling away as fast and as quickly as he could get his skinny ass out of there.

  He jumped quickly to his feet as the werewolf was slowly and painstakingly making its way up, and onto all fours. Kyler reached around to see if HIS pistol was still inside his pants. It was. As he retrieved the revolver from out of his pants, he saw Potts stir…and so did the werewolf. With small wisps of smoke coming out of its back, it began to slowly crawl toward Potts who was now groaning lightly as he came to. Kyler cocked both guns and ran up on the monster, careful to stay in its blind spot. It was no more than three feet from Potts and had reached out with its arm/foreleg, when Kyler shot one with each pistol into the side of the thing’s head, one bullet entering the cranium, while the other pierced its jaw. Both shots were at such close range that the werewolf’s head snapped side ways, causing it to fall left, grabbing its jaw. Kyler walked up to it and was about to shoot it until he was out of ammunition, when the beast suddenly rolled off its side and jumped at him. The doctor only caught a glimpse of the werewolf’s face, but he saw the damage that he had done. Its right jaw was shattered, there were several bullet holes in its head, and of course, its left eye was gone. There was also blood pouring out of one ear.

  As the creature lunged at him, Kyler took off running in the opposite direction, because he wanted to lure it away from Potts, not to mention the fact that he was about to drop a cluster of stink bombs in his pants. As he ran, he looked over his shoulder expecting to find the werewolf right on his tail…but it wasn’t. It was coming after him, but it wasn’t running. As a matter of fact, it had barely made it to its feet by the time Kyler had turned. He looked down at the two revolvers. He didn’t know what Potts had been bitching about. These little guns were doing the trick.

  The creature was on two legs now, but teetering sideways, still holding its head. Kyler wasn’t sure what to do at the moment. His fear had subsided a little seeing that the thing was hurt, but he had seen dozens of these creature’s now, and one thing that he knew was that any time you thought you had them figured out, they’d let you down every time. The thing could be faking like it had before, or perhaps it was healing as he was watching it. Either way, he needed to do something…so, he cocked both revolvers, counted backwards from ten, and on “zero…blastoff…”, screamed, and began to charge at the beast, careful to keep away from the teetering side. As he neared the beast, it tried to straighten up, but was struggling to do so. Kyler stopped running when he got to within ten feet of the beast, and then shot once with each pistol into the werewolf’s side. Both bullets found their mark and the werewolf fell to the ground. Kyler took three steps toward it before he remembered his own advice. Just as he stopped walking, the thing sprang at him from the ground, its head crashing painfully into his chest. Kyler flew backwards, landing hard on the ground with the thing on top of him. His whole body hurt as he tried to struggle out from under the creature before it came completely to and tore him apart.

  He only struggled for a moment before he realized that it was too late, and that the werewolf was up and straddling him. He turned his head to his right where he spotted one of the pistols. As the werewolf was trying to focus its one eye, Kyler tried to reach for the pistol, but before he could stretch his arm completely out, the thing began to sit on his chest, causing him to exhale without being able to take in a breath, much like a constrictor does with its prey.

  Kyler was struggling to breathe, and was hoping that he would go unconscious before the thing slowly suffocated him, or quickly tore him to tiny little bits. As the pain in his chest began to increase, it
just as quickly decreased, because he was going unconscious. Good, the thought to himself, probably for the last time. He didn’t want to give the big, hairy bastard the pleasure of hearing him scream and making him suffer. The beast had been snarling above him, but the snarls had become faint. Dying wasn’t so bad, he thought. Could be worse things, he supposed.

  Suddenly air, noise, and pain filled Kyler’s body. As the white light began to disappear, he felt the werewolf falling off of him, screaming in pain as it rolled off of his chest. He rolled over onto his stomach, took in a lungful of air, then staggered to his feet, holding his chest. He turned to find the beast standing with its back to him, a small red-hatchet sticking out of the back of its head. Potts had sneaked up behind it as it sat on him and nailed the big bastard in the skull. But now it was up and stood between the two of them.

  Kyler looked around on the ground for the pistol that had been lying next to him. After kicking it with his foot, he retrieved it from the ground, and then ran up behind the beast as it was trying to pull the hatchet from its skull that now had the silver smoke coming out of it. When he was within three feet of the monster, he stopped and raised the pistol. His long arms put the muzzle of the gun within inches of the werewolf’s head. He pulled the trigger twice, both bullets entering the creature’s skull. The beast stumbled forward from the impact, holding the back of its head.

  As Kyler was about to pull the trigger again, the werewolf whirled around and faced him, something that he hadn’t expected. With the one eye out, it was mostly a silhouette against the moon. Even the smoke coming out of its head shone brightly.

  The beast reared back its left arm/foreleg and began to swing. Kyler managed one more shot, which hit the thing in the neck. He immediately dove backwards in an attempt to escape the razor sharp talons that were at least eight inches long. As he fell back, he was almost certain that he would escape the claws…on the first swing anyway…but he’d been wrong, for he felt a searing burn cross his chest from shoulder to shoulder. The bastard had gotten him, not bad, but he’d gotten him. He felt his chest and sure enough he could feel blood seeping from the wound. It didn’t feel like it was that deep, but here was now, flat on his back, soon to be dinner for a one-eyed, crooked-jawed lycanthrope with a hatchet sticking in his head.