Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves

by Visada, J. L. M.

  “Most people think that, but no…stuff can definitely go wrong with a septic tank. Remember that last really bad winter.”

  “Yeah.”

  Bobby grimaced, “I had eight frozen septic tanks we got called out on. You have to send a steamer through the pipes to thaw it out. Plus two of the tanks were overflowed, and so we had to repair that. Of course the overflow was so bad that we had to dig through the frozen overflow to build the new leach lines that would fix the problem. Have you even had to spend three hours chipping through frozen sewage?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t recommend it. Talk about your shitty jobs.” Bobby laughed. He worked hard. He wasn’t ashamed of what he did, but he wasn’t above poking fun at himself either. It was the willingness to laugh at himself that won over so many clients. When you dig through sewage every day you really only have two options. You can either hate every second of the job, or smile and handle it the best you can. Bobby fell into that last category. It’s hard to find a man that’ll shovel shit with a smile…and Bobby Mullins was that rare man.

  “So you’re the boss?”

  “Yeah, I started out in construction when I was sixteen, but I found out I could make pretty decent money like this. So I started putting in septic tanks when I was eighteen. Twenty-seven years later I own one of the biggest septic tank companies in Louisiana. Maybe you seen my commercial on television.”

  Jessup thought about it, “Is it the one where they have the animated blonde chick?”

  “Sue the sewage girl…yeah that’s us.” Bobby chuckled, but he didn’t look particularly happy.

  “Why’d you make her have that huge rack? Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Go big or go home.”

  Jessup laughed, “Seriously?”

  Bobby laughed, but it never reached his eyes, “No, actually it’s a caricature of my ex-wife.”

  “Carry cat what?”

  “Caricature…a fancy word for saying someone drew a cartoon of my ex-wife.”

  Jessup thought about it, and despite trying to keep his mouth shut, he just had to speak, “So the cartoon hottie is your ex-wife?”

  “Yep.”

  “And she’s white?”

  Bobby’s knuckles went white as he started gripping the steering wheel, “Yes.”

  “So you’re white, your ex-wife is white, but your daughter is-“

  “She’s my daughter.” Bobby said through gritted teeth. He had the steering wheel in a death grip.

  “Sure, sure, but even you have to admit she is…”

  “She’s MY daughter.” Bobby growled.

  Jessup wanted to let it go, but something inside just had to push forward. It was as if something was just whispering in his ear to keep talking about the obvious differences. Something was egging him on from inside, and with each passing second he felt his restraint slipping away. “I mean dude, seriously…you want me to believe that hot little piece of ass is your daughter? Is she adopted?”

  Bobby gripped the steering so forcefully that it deformed a little. Instead of a perfect circle, he had a misshapen oval. He was angry and pictured Jessup’s throat between his hands as he choked the life out of the steering wheel, “She’s not adopted. SHE IS MY DAUGHTER!”

  “Aaaah, now it all makes sense. So did the ex-wife catch you in the act, or did she find out when the baby showed up?”

  “I did not cheat on my ex-wife.”

  Jessup whistled, “Wow…never thought I’d meet a swinger around these parts. Guess it just goes to show you never can tell a cover by its book.”

  “I’m not a swinger.” Bobby growled, and fought back the urge to correct the man’s complete butchery of the expression.

  “Well then either you’re a liar, or I’m really confused.”

  The pickup slowed to a stop, and Bobby popped open his door to step outside. Jessup watched the man spin back towards the pickup and start searching behind the driver’s seat.

  “Everything okay?” Jessup asked nervously.

  When Bobby stood back up he was holding a Remington 870 shotgun, “I think you can walk the rest of the way.”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jessup yelled as he started crawling across the seat towards Bobby.

  “Holy shit!” Bubba hopped out of the truck and landed on his feet.

  Bobby backed away. He was absolutely sure the two men would have run away, and the fact they were fearlessly coming towards him scared the crap out of him. Bobby swung the shotgun back and forth between the two men. “Don’t make me use this.” Bobby said nervously. His voice shook but he tried to sound in control.

  Jessup slid out and fell had onto the road before rolling over and rising to his feet. “What, did I hit a little too close for home you?”

  “Shut up and get back!” Bobby screamed as he stepped around the front of the pickup.

  “How about we both just kick your ass instead?” Bubba laughed.

  Both men slowly paced after Bobby. It was like a slow dance. The man stepped back, and the two brothers moved in closer. They moved around the passenger door, and then rounded the back of the pickup. As Bobby got next to the tailgate he lifted the handle so that he could open it, but he was careful not to let it fall until he rounded the corner to head back to the driver’s side. As soon as the tailgate fell it put a little more distance between Bobby and his pursuers. They’d either have to make their way around the tailgate, or take a half-second to close in order to close the gap. Bobby wheeled around and ran for his driver’s side door.

  Instead of going around the tailgate, Bubba leapt into the bed of the truck, and Jessup sprinted for the passenger door. Bobby leapt into the front seat, his forehead banged against the top of his truck. Blood started running down the front of his face almost immediately. The Remington flopped across his lap as he slammed the door closed and stomped on the gas.

  The old ford engine knocked, and sounded as though it was going to choke itself out, but the wheels started biting into the road. Smoke boiled out from the rear wheels just as Jessup reached the passenger door. The pickup began moving forward even as the passenger door opened. Bubba screamed and fell backwards, rolling fudge factory over pie hole until he caught onto the tailgate. Both of Bubba’s knees hit the road, and as the truck moved forward he began a mad scramble to try and get back into the pickup.

  Jessup had half of his muscular body inside the pickup by the time the tires quit smoking. Bobby looked over and screamed. Jessup’s eyes weren’t even human anymore. Two yellow wolf eyes stared daggers at the driver. In a panic Jessup turned the wheel towards a street sign. The steel pole struck the passenger door and crushed it down on Jessup’s body. Jessup’s ribs popped, and his pelvis broke. For a moment Jessup slumped over into the seat, but then rose up with a guttural howl. Bobby screamed and fumbled for his trusty Remington. The Ford swerved all over the road while the man tried to get ahold of his trigger. Jessup’s face began to swell, and bones started to shift.

  “Jesus Christ!” Bobby yelled as he began lifting the shotgun.

  Jessup grabbed the barrel, but his hand already looked more like a claw. He shoved the shotgun back at his prey. The butt of the Remington struck Bobby in the face, breaking his nose. Even more blood started running down, and it was driving Jessup wild. Bobby watched in horror as the skin on Jessup’s face split, exposing fur just underneath. Skin continued to give way as bone and fur ripped its way out from under the flesh. Jessup tried to hit him again with the butt of the shotgun. Bobby shifted, and the butt knocked out the driver window. By now the truck was moving fast enough that the wind blew some of the glass back inside the pickup. Some of the glass fell into Bobby’s lap, and some went down his shirt, cutting his chest as he moved around.

  The back window shattered, Bubba’s hand clamped around Bobby’s throat. The brothers were trying to kill him, and he knew it. In desperation Bobby pulled the trigger. Eighteen lead pellets exploded out of the front of the shotgun. The barrel was j
ust inches from Jessup’s face, and when the pellets struck, they turned his head into a red mush. Blood, brain, and hair covered everything in the passenger side with a wet splat.

  “Jessup!” Bubba screamed, and started trying to pull Bobby out through the rear window.

  Bobby’s hands were pulled away from the steering wheel, his feet could only just touch the gas. Jessup’s body slipped out of the passenger door and rolled down the side of the road. Bobby’s vision was blurring out, and in desperation he stretched for all he was worth and stomped onto the break. The pickup screeched to a stop, but Bubba continued forward through the air. His momentum carried him over the roof of the pickup, over the hood, and he landed roughly twenty feet in front of the pickup.

  Bobby might have felt bad for the man, but at that time he was still fighting with Bubba’s arm. When the truck stopped, momentum carried the man forward shoulder first into the roof of the pickup. The combination of his momentum and bodyweight proved to be more than enough to tear the arm off at the shoulder. The ripping caused the muscles to spasm, and Bubba’s hand tightened around his throat. Bobby’s choked screaming continued while he fought to wrestle the hand from his throat.

  Bobby had to break the thumb to get the arm’s death lock to release. He pulled the arm off and watched in horror as the muscles kept working the fingers. The hand kept opening and closing mindlessly as if it was still trying to carry out the command it had received before being ripped off his body. It was all reflex, but it still made him shudder. Bobby tossed the arm out and watched as the fingers continued to spasm like the legs on a dying cockroach.

  “Motherfucker!”

  The words lifted Bobby’s eyes from the arm. Bubba was already standing. The skin on one side of his face was peeled like a potato, and one arm was bent at a bad angle. He tried to point at Bobby, but his forearm was broken cleanly. The broken forearm flopped around before pointing straight down.

  Bobby was terrified as he caught an image of movement in his rearview mirror. “Oh God!” He screamed.

  Jessup was already on his feet. His arms and legs were lengthening. Fur was ripping its way out from his flesh in all directions. There was even a mass of flesh and bone growing up from the shoulders where his head should have been. Bobby slammed on the gas, and tore forward into Bubba’s chest. Both legs shattered like glass, Bubba’s spine twisted and snapped as the oil pan caught the man’s shoulder and refused to give as it torqued his body one-hundred-and eighty degrees.

  Bobby never slowed down. His pickup fishtailed down the road into the night. Bubba rolled onto his stomach, blood pouring out from his mouth. He tried to speak, but could only spit up teeth. Blood gurgled up into his throat until he was gagging. Bubba’s stomach lurched once, twice, and then vomit flooded up into his mouth, and then overflowed. He didn’t have the ability to turn over in order to get the puke out of his mouth. Blood and bile choked off his air, and with a broken spine all he could do was force out bloody air bubbles.

  Jessup walked towards his brother. Fur still shredding its way out of his body, and a wolf’s head had grown where Jessup’s head once had been. Sharp teeth pushed their way through the gums, and claws split through the flesh of his fingertips. Jessup’s mind was disoriented from all the pain as he endured his bodies last few changes, but he did know one thing…hunger.

  Bubba had trouble focusing his vision. Lack of oxygen was causing him to black out. He was vaguely aware that someone was standing beside his head. Bubba tried to see who it was, but blood was leaking out from his mouth, nose, and a few other areas he preferred not to think about. Breathing was impossible. Even if the blood and bile hadn’t filled his mouth, a few ribs were broken and puncturing his lungs so that they were quickly filling with blood.

  Jessup went to a knee, and looked at his brother through cold, predatory eyes. He was vaguely aware that the mangled man on the ground was his brother, but he was even more aware that the copper smell of blood was making his stomach rumble. Bubba tried to beg for help, but the blood and vomit just turned his pleas into a red frothy gurgle. Jessup’s claws curled around his brother. He lifted him tenderly up until his body was sitting up. Jessup took a look at his brother’s body. His upper half was vertical, and if not for the fact that his lower half was facing the other direction, the average person might have just thought he had decided to sit down on the ground for a breather.

  Blood drained out of his mouth, and some clarity peaked through Bubba’s haze. “Jessup? What just happened? What’s wrong with your face?” Jessup’s mouth opened wide, his tongue rolled out the side of his mouth. Drool dripped off his tongue onto his brother’s forehead. He took a long look at his brother before dragging his tongue along the side of Bubba’s cheek. Bubba wanted to ask him what he was doing, but the combination of pain, and punctured lungs caught back up to him. All Bubba could do was manage a pained, “What?”

  That’s when Jessup’s mouth snapped shut over Bubba’s head with the suddenness of a mousetrap. Teeth tore through muscle, sinew, and finally vertebrae. In one powerful bite, Bubba’s head was removed cleanly. Blood gushed out, and Jessup put his mouth over the decapitation wound so that the blood wouldn’t escape. Meanwhile Bubba’s head sat in the back of his throat. Bubba’s mouth kept opening and closing while his tongue tried to lap up the blood running down his brother’s throat. When the blood slowed, Jessup rolled his brother’s head around in his mouth like a giant jawbreaker. Bubba’s expression was a vicious snarl inside his brother’s mouth. He kept trying to bite Jessup’s cheek and tongue, but he couldn’t get himself positioned correctly. Bubba was still snapping at his brother’s tongue when Jessup trapped the head between his teeth. Without hesitation, Jessup bit down with a loud pop and crunch as the skull and jawbone broke. Bubba’s fake eyeball popped out and slid down his brother’s throat like an aspirin. Jessup chewed awhile before finally swallowing the rest of his brother’s bald head. Then he began working on the body.

  Chapter Eight

  “Look over there Bill!” The man driving the boat pointed out into the darkness.

  Bill Starr swept back and forth in the area with his high-powered spotlight. It was just a little after dark, but the full moon was bright enough to let the men see fairly comfortably. The moon let them navigate through the water, and the light made the area so bright that it seemed to almost bleach the color out. Bill’s cousin Tater Collins squinted as he turned his penlight to the same area. So far the evening had been a complete bust for the three men. Well not a complete bust. They’d already gone through almost a six-pack a piece, and they were each looking forward to making it an even dozen before the night was over.

  “Nothing.” Tater groaned. “Three hours of nothing. I thought you said we’d be able to get us a gator. You said you knew how to do this. We been puttering through here, and I gotta say Jimmy…I think you’re full of shit.”

  James looked irritated by the young man and then shook his head. “Patience! Normally we’d just set out some lines, put some bait on them, and then check them tomorrow.”

  Tater rolled his eyes, “Why can’t we just do that?”

  James shook his head, “Wrong season…if we did that there’d be game wardens waiting on us when we got back. They’d be up our ass faster than you can say ouch.”

  “Well this is boring! You said we’d have us some fried gator by morning.” Tater groaned.

  “Is it morning yet? No! We might have seen one already if you’d have brought a halfway decent light. Now shut up and keep looking.” James’ irritation was starting to boil into anger. Tater had started whining almost from the moment they got in the water.

  “You said we’d need flashlights. How was I supposed to know you meant we were supposed to bring spotlights?” Tater snapped.

  James was almost ready to toss the man over and use him for bait, “A clue would be looking at your cousin over there.”

  “Whatever. I’m done. We’ve been circling around here for the last three hours and we’re o
nly maybe forty five minutes from where we started. You’re just wasting my time. If you find a gator wake me up.” Tater grunted, turned off his penlight, and laid down in the front of the boat. After a minute or two he dug into his pocket, pulled out ear buds and started listening to something on his iPhone.

  James glared at the man, then hocked a loogie out into the water, “Fucking lazy…just fucking lazy.”

  Bill tried to apologize for his cousin. “Man, I’m sorry I asked you to take us out here. If I’d have known he was going to be like that then…well you know.”

  “Yeah…don’t sweat it. You want me to turn this around so we can go back?”

  “Hell no! If you say you know where some gators are, then I say let’s get us some gator.” Bill laughed.

  Twenty minutes later had Tater snoring. Bill leaned down to shake the man awake, but he was sound asleep. After a few minutes he gave up and went back to shining the light. It seemed to take forever, but finally his light struck on almost two dozen alligators. Ruby red, orange, and yellow eyes reflected back in the light. The sudden number of the animals surprised both men.

  “Big bag of nothing most the night, and then jackpot.” James laughed as he shut off the engine. “I told you I knew where to find gators. Just takes patience is all. You ready?”

  “Yeah, do I wake up Tater?”

  “Fuck Tater. Now I’ll throw out the treble hook and when I get him up to the side of the boat then you shoot him in the head.”

  “A-a-alright.” Bill said nervously.

  James took his treble hook and gave it a mighty through. The first time he tossed it he just missed catching a gator. He was just off to the left. The second time he missed wide right. Luckily, there were a lot of alligators because the third throw was a complete miss of his intended target, but luckily the hook landed perfectly to snag an entirely separate alligator. The hook bit into the scaly hide, and the gator jerked…and then nothing.

  “Well that’s weird.” James started pulling the line in. The alligator hissed, but otherwise made no effort to get away. James jerked the creature right up against the boat, “Okay now shoot him.”