In one swipe Johanna took both Kyle and Mark’s head clean off their shoulders. She’d been ordered to kill any that ran, but Danior hadn’t said how. So she made their deaths as painless as possible. Her students crawled around the ground picking the bodies clean. She still had trouble reconciling that the sweet class she’d started with had become flesh hungry monsters. It was almost as difficult as watching some of her people still struggling with their disabilities even after they changed into the zombie werewolves.
“Daddy! Are we going to be okay?” Finnigan asked his father as Jimbo began changing in front of them.
“I will.” Courtland answered, and before the five year old boy could even ask what he meant, Courtland picked up his red headed stepchild and threw him like a lawn dart at the hungry werewolf.
“Daddy why?” Finnigan screamed just before Jimbo’s teeth sank into the boy’s side.
“I ain’t your daddy you little red-headed bastard. I’m just the man that’s been fucking your mom.” Courtland screamed as he ran away. “Besides, your mamma is blonde, and I’m blonde, but the mailman is a redheaded son of a bitch!” Courtland veered down one of the pathways. He started imitating his girlfriend, “Take little Finnigan on the cemetery tour. You two need to bond. What’s the worst that could happen?” He was almost free when Lula Mae and Damien came out of the darkness. “Get out of my way you crippled motherfucker!” Courtland screamed as he tried to run past them.
Lula Mae snatched the much taller man by the throat, “Nobody talks to my man like that!” She flung him backwards, and Courtland slammed against a cement crypt. The girl was pissed, but she just stood there as Damien began rolling forward in his wheelchair.
“Ah…rue.” Damien said as his body started changing. His ears changed to furry wolf ears, one of his eyes turned yellow, his left hand grew claws and fur tore through the skin, and his whole right leg changed until it ripped through his pants. “Ah…rue. Mother Father.”
“Mother Father?” Courtland asked in confusion.
“He’s calling you a dirty word, but his computer thingy won’t say it.” Lula Mae yelled.
“What the fuck are you?” Courtland asked.
“Your worst nightmare. I am a handicapable bad bass.” Damien responded.
“Bad bass?” Courtland asked.
*Zap*
“Bad Bass. Bad Bass.” Damien said as he stunned the man with the stun gun prong on his wheelchair, his face twitched with frustration until he finally just spelled it. “B-A-D-A-S-S.”
“Fucking cripple.” Courtland groaned.
*ZAP*
“MOTHERFUCKER!” Courtland screamed as his body still twitched from the electricity.
Damien tried to zap him one last time, but his chair was out of power, and so he could only sit there helplessly as Courtland stood up. “Oh…not so bad now are we.” Courtland laughed as he punched Damien in the face. Courtland hit him one more time before Lula Mae ran over and punched the man. Bones shattered, and practically exploded from the impact. Courtland landed in a heap on the ground. “Mrrphenburger.” Courtland couldn’t really form anything coherent with his shattered jaw.
“Did he hurt you baby?” Lula Mae asked Damien. He couldn’t move or respond in any way except for a few angry eye blinks and a little twitching. “Come on. Master doesn’t need us anymore tonight. I’ll take you somewhere to recharge your chair, and then we’ll go get something to eat. Maybe a fat hobo…or waffles?” Lula Mae really did love her waffles.
Damien sighed in frustration. He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do anything but breathe and blink. So he just resigned himself to the nine year old’s care until he could get recharged. Lula Mae pushed him out, and they began their search for a wall plug.
Courtland pushed himself up. He was terrified. The little girl hit like Mike Tyson swinging a sledgehammer. He’d never been hit so hard in his entire life. Courtland had even peed himself a little when he landed. “Smmnabith.” He tried to curse, but his mouth just wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to. So rather than wait to die, he started moving towards the exit again. That’s when they found him. At first he didn’t know what to think. They were just six tiny infants sitting between him and the exit. Then they started to change. Fur ruptured out through their skin, and fangs ripped out through their gums.
“Waa-OOOOOOOO!” The babies howled as they started crawling towards him. Courtland had already learned his mistake from dealing with the little girl. He began running, but the zombie werewolf babies were gaining. Two of them grabbed his ankles and started biting.
“Ouch! You little bastards! GET OFF!” Courtland kicked and hopped as they kept biting. Eventually one of them bit through his Achilles and Courtland crashed to the ground. He started crawling. Two more of the babies began climbing onto his back. “I said get the fuck off me!” Courtland jerked his elbow back and hammered into the side of one of the furry little werebabies. The infant gave a loud cry as it bounced against a crypt and slid down the side leaving a green blood trail. Almost immediately it started crawling back towards Courtland.
It wasn’t long before all the werebabies had Courtland on the ground. They flipped him over, and started gnawing on him. Two of the youngest babies instinctively searched out his nipples and bit down. Courtland screamed as they began suckling for blood. When nothing happened they started chewing their way into his chest. One of the babies crawled up and sat down on his throat. He put his hands on Courtland’s face, and then started clawing at his eyes. A few seconds later the tiny wereinfant was happily playing with the man’s eyeballs. He put one in his mouth and started suckling on it like it was a pacifier, another baby came up and began sucking on the other. Eventually the babies got bored and crawled up so they could chew into the brain.
“Oh that’s so cute. You’re little Sarah, and my Timmy are sharing.” Belinda said to her newest undead pack mat. The last bits of their werewolf body was sloughing off now that they’d all been fed, and were now gathering their children back up.
“I know…Timmy is such a little gentleman, and he’s so smart.” Megan grinned. The mothers let their kids play with the man’s innards like he was a sandbox before finally gathering their kids.
Shirley stood there trembling as people and creatures began dragging the last few screaming survivors back from the crypts. Men, women, children, and even the elderly were pulled by their hair, or if they didn’t have any hair they were yanked around by a foot. They pulled the victims along until they were all surrounding Shirley.
Danior walked out of the darkness. His eyes were fixed on them. Jimbo walked beside him, “They brought the rest as you requested Master.” Jimbo was eager to please the man since his return. He feared what Danior might do to him if he made him angry again.
Johanna moved through the crowd towards their pack leader. “Sir, after we finish here, if you don’t need us anymore tonight I’d like to take my kids out to the park. Some of them are pretty stressed from this and could use the down time to find something resembling normalcy.” Johanna asked patiently.
“Go.” Danior answered, and Johanna led her group of handicapped undead werewolves away.
“I don’t get why you give them so much leeway Master. Those retards are-“ Jimbo never finished his sentence because Danior backhanded him with such force that he hit one of the crypts and make the wall collapse. Jimbo scrambled back begging for mercy.
Shirley watched in terror as Danior evaluated each and every captive that remained. The first person brought to him was a large Hispanic man. He was heavily muscled, but it only took one of the children to hold him in place. Without any explanation, Danior punched the man in his face. The man’s body fell to the ground, his head was like a smashed jack-o-lantern. Danior kicked the body over to the side and waited. The next person was a woman in her forties. She fell to her knees begging him to let her go. Danior put both hands on her head and gave a quick jerk. She fell forward. Danior kicked her to the side, and then tossed the head t
o one of the mothers in his pack. Next was a man in his twenties. He didn’t seem to be that different from the first man as far as Shirley could tell, but after Danior evaluated him. Danior’s hand changed and claws extended out from his hand. He gave one quick swipe with the claws, and then the werewolf holding him carried him over to join the pack.
This went on for the better part of an hour. Danior studied each person, and then either killed them or slashed them with his claws. As the group dwindled she noticed that the first few victims weren’t looking so terrified anymore. In fact they looked…hungry. A couple of minutes later the first few new converts were eating from the pile of bodies Danior had left. Husbands ate wives, wives ate their husbands, children ate their parents, parents ate their children, and before long none of the dead were even recognizable any longer.
Shirley saw that the numbers were dwindling down to just a handful. She didn’t have much time left, and so while Danior was busy evaluating a six year old girl she ran for the crypts. “I’ll get her master.” One of the men said as he lumbered off after her.
Shirley ducked in and out between the crypts. She’d jogged almost every day for six years, but the combination of a full run and fear had her panting pretty quickly. She was pulling away until the man changed. Then she could hear him catching up quickly. She knew she’d never make it to the exit, so she instead tried to find some way to lose the werewolf that was now clawing and jumping its way from crypt to crypt as it pursued her with single-minded aggression.
Her hair whipped in all directions as Shirley tried to find a good spot to cut down between crypts. The werewolf leapt at her, but she flopped on the ground, and the werewolf crashed into some steel fencing that surrounded one of the crypts. Shirley was running as fast as she could between cement crypts. She cursed herself for choosing a lacy bra from Victoria’s Secret over her normal sports bra as her large breasts flopped in all directions, and occasionally hit her in the chin.
The werewolf finally got himself off the steel fence and leapt up onto the top of a crypt so that he could see across the entire cemetery. He spotted the top of her head and began leaping from crypt to crypt. His eyes fixed on her like an eagle on a mouse, and he accelerated. He reached out with one fur covered hand, his claws grabbed a handful of her hair and…
*Schlunk*
In the werewolf’s effort to grab the woman, he’d neglected to pay attention to what was in front of him. Instead he’d been running with his eyes completely focused on his prey. So when he ran face first into the decoration on top of the crypt of Bosephus Lee Grant. It came as quite a surprise. Bosephus had been a cowardly man in life, but he’d earned quite a fortune. So rather than just a simple crypt, Bosephus had requested something ornate. Something that made him seem heroic in death in a way that he wasn’t in life, and so on top of his crypt the designers had made a statue of the man in iron holding a sword out as he prepared to fight whatever came. None of the designers could have planned for a large werewolf, and yet the heavy sword served its purpose perfectly. The blade, though not sharp, still went cleanly through the werewolf’s mouth, and out the back of his skull. It severed the spinal cord, and the werewolf dangled in the air helplessly. His claws relaxed, and Shirley literally slipped right through his fingers. Shirley ran and found one of the crypts closest to the cemetery wall. Climbing the crypt wasn’t easy, but she was highly motivated, and once on top she jumped to the wall, and swung herself over. She ran off into the night screaming.
Danior and the others heard the werewolf screaming for help as he hung limply from the sword. Some of the pack started to move to rescue the were. “No.” Danior ordered, and the group stopped in their tracks. Danior was furious. The woman had escaped because of one pack members clumsiness, and so Danior decided to make an example of the man. Until one of the other weres pulled him down, he’d never be able to heal the spinal injury preventing his movement. In another week Danior would have all the people he needed to launch an attack on the city, and in the meantime the undead werewolf could just hang their. There was a possibility that someone might see the man, but it was in the far corner, and not easily seen from the street. Even if they did the man would just heal up and kill the witnesses once they brought him down, and so Danior just ordered the man to be left there.
There was one person left to change. A pretty redhead with a modest bosom. Danior found her particularly attractive. He leaned in and instead of clawing her, he bit her on the shoulder as gently as possible. There was a strange intimacy to it all that Danior found disconcerting, and somehow appealing. After the bite he pulled her to his side to declare her to be his mate to the rest of his pack. The young woman stood there frozen in fear as he asked her for her name.
“Becky…Becky Kelcher.” The woman sputtered.
“Today…you are my bride.” Danior spoke as if it was all decided regardless of what Becky wanted. She screamed in horror before running off to hide in the cemetery, but it wasn’t long before she felt her master calling. His pull was impossible to ignore.
“I’m coming my love.” Her mouth moved, and the words came out in spite of her every effort. Becky’s legs moved her toward the man that had only a short while ago called himself her husband. Danior was smiling, but it was a cruel smile. All she wanted to do was run away and pretend this night never happened, but now she couldn’t even stop her face from smiling. Becky didn’t know how, but somehow this man was controlling her. He pushed his will into her, and she heard herself say, “I love you. My husband…my master.” She wanted to throw up but her own body was betraying her.
“Tonight we’ll be united, and by dawn you will be their queen.” Danior said as he began removing his clothing.
Becky’s fingers removed her blouse, and then started removing her bra. Inside she was screaming for someone to make it stop, but she was trapped inside the shell she’d always considered her body until this moment. Now it was more like some horrible prison. They both kept pulling off their clothing until they were totally nude. Becky stood in front of the man terrified, but looking as calm and serene as Danior willed her to be. Danior looked down at the young woman, and felt himself harden at the sight of her creamy skin, pink nipples, and flaming red bush of pubic hair. There was just one last thing to do before he took her in front of the pack, and so Danior pushed even more of his will into her.
Becky felt her nipples harden, and the distinct ache of need between her thighs as she grew wet. Her body leaned in and kissed the man. As she kissed him, the ache continued to grow. Somehow he made her body want him, but inside she was hysterical. Oh God. Please don’t let this happen. She thought. Please Jesus. Please don’t let me endure this. She begged. She prayed. In her mind she screamed up to the heavens.
The kiss lingered. Danior found the softness of her mouth, and the taste of her tongue absolutely enthralling. When Danior finally allowed her to pull away he couldn’t help but notice her thoughts had changed from complete terror to joy. He couldn’t understand why she suddenly kept thinking that she was going home. Then he saw it.
Becky had two silver hoop earrings that were starting to burn her earlobes, and sitting around Becky’s neck was a silver Saint Rita medal on a silver chain. The moonlight glinted off the metal, and Danior howled with rage. The silver was already starting to burn her skin as the infection continued to spread. The medal was starting to melt through her chest. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Danior roared as he grabbed at the silver chain. He pulled it up for just a second before the chain sliced through his hand. Fingers fell to the ground leaving four knuckles spurting blood.
In his rage, he forgot to hold his control on the woman. Becky spat in his face, “I hope there’s a special place in hell reserved for you whenever you die.” Then she looked up into the sky and smiled, “Thank you Lord. I’m coming home.” Silver rings burned through her fingers like acid. They just slipped through the flesh, and even cut through the bone. Each ring fell to the ground, and a finger flopped down beside it. Becky’s fa
ce winced with pain but she also was filled with joy. Her prayers were answered. She didn’t even scream when the medal melted through her flesh, burned through her sternum, and then pierced her heart. The chain then began cutting into her neck like the wire on a cheese slicer. It just slid through cleanly and cut her head off at the neck. Becky’s head thumped onto the ground, and rolled onto its side. Her mouth began moving with laughter even though she couldn’t make a sound. One of the hooped earrings sank through the ear, past the skull, through the brain, and then out the other side. Becky was home.
The necklace burned its way through the body as blood poured out the open neck hole. Danior stared in horror as it burned its way down and eventually came out the woman’s vaginal. The medal and chain clanked on the ground, and he could still hear blood sizzling on the silver. The whole thing took seconds, but for Danior it had seemed like ages.
Danior howled, and for a moment forgot to exert his will on several of the pack. Some of them leapt at him to try and kill him, and others just reached up and with one clean swipe tore their throats out. Danior steeled his will at the last possible second, and his attackers immediately fell back in line. The weres that had attempted to commit suicide however took a little longer. Danior had to strain to force them to change so that they’d heal more quickly. He couldn’t have them walking around with open neck wounds. It would raise too many questions. After they changed he forced them to change back to human. Then he made them change two more times just so he could make them feel the pain as their bones broke and shifted. After they were properly submissive, Danior sent them all out so that he could be alone to mourn the loss of his new bride.
When officers finally caught up to Becky Kelcher she tried to explain what happened. Instead of investigating, they took her directly to the Touro infirmary for a psychological evaluation. The doctors tried to calm her down, but eventually had to sedate her. Even as the medicine was overpowering her she kept screaming about the werewolf killed by a man of steel. When she finally lost consciousness, her doctor looked at the two nurses holding her down and said, “Keep her sedated for as long as possible. Maybe in a couple days she’ll have mellowed out and we can finally start evaluating her.”
Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves Page 49
