The Werewolf Chasers (Book 3): Wolf Hunt 3

by Strand, Jeff

  "Careful!" somebody shouted.

  George glanced over and saw that the cabin door was now open. A man stood on the front porch. He was slender, but not so thin that he and the other man made a hilarious mismatched couple. He walked over to the truck, holding a rifle. His hair stuck out on the side, as if he'd been taking a nap, and he was obviously an aficionado of methamphetamine.

  "You can't just slide 'em out like that," he said. "Gonna break somebody's skull. Look at his head."

  "Already like that."

  "Now don't you go lying to me, Sid."

  "He's not lying," said George, figuring it couldn't hurt to gain some favor with the big guy. "If you're talking about the blood on my friend's head, that was there before."

  "All right, all right, I stand corrected. Doc's got a habit of lying."

  "He doesn't look like a doctor."

  "He ain't no doctor. That's his name."

  "I thought his name was Sid."

  "Sid's his nickname. Short for Considerable. 'Cause there's a considerable amount of Doc."

  "Makes sense."

  "You George?"

  George hesitated, then figured there was no reason to lie. "Yeah. And you are?"

  "I'm Wayman."

  "Hi, Wayman. My friends and I were literally just kidnapped—I mean, just kidnapped, and we barely escaped with our lives. Being kidnapped again so soon is unnecessarily cruel, don't you think?"

  "Nah," said Wayman. "It means you didn't get too used to freedom." He looked at Lou and whistled. "Wow, somebody messed him up, huh? He dead?"

  "He might be soon, if I don't get him some help."

  "Doc, stop standin' there with your thumb up your butt and get him out of the truck. Take him by the arms this time so he doesn't smash his head against the ground."

  Doc scowled. Then he just stood there, staring into the back of the truck. Since Lou's feet were pointed toward him, he seemed unsure of how to proceed.

  "Want me to spin him around for you?" George asked.

  Doc nodded.

  "Now don't you go trying to befriend him," said Wayman. "He ain't the friend-making type. Know why he ain't got no teeth?"

  "Recreational drugs?"

  "It's 'cause he's a biter. He's a biter even if he likes you, and I don't mean in no sensual way. Finally I had to take him to the dentist to have 'em all yanked out. But that was too expensive, so I got me a cooler full of beers, invited over a bunch of folks, and we had ourselves a tooth-pulling party. A lot of 'em we just broke off. You can still see chunks in the back. Go on, Sid, show him. Show him the tooth chunks."

  Doc opened his mouth wide. The light wasn't very good and his tongue was flopping around too much for George to see the tooth chunks, but instead of requesting a closer look with better illumination he merely smiled and nodded.

  He turned Lou around. Though George didn't know what it would take to kill Lou again, it was probably best to try to keep him from getting dropped on his head.

  Doc dragged Lou out of the truck.

  Wayman pointed the rifle at George. "You gonna slide out of there peacefully, or are you gonna cause problems?"

  "Oh, super peacefully."

  "I'll shoot you if you don't."

  "Lots of people have threatened to shoot me today. I know the drill."

  George crawled out of the back of the truck. He lost his balance as his feet hit the ground, but he kept himself from toppling over.

  Doc grabbed Ivan's feet and began to drag him toward the cabin.

  "May I ask what you've got planned for us?" George asked.

  Wayman chuckled. "You don't wanna know."

  "So it's not good?"

  "Not for you."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Doc & Wayman

  "He ain't retarded," said Wayman.

  "I never said he was," said George.

  "You were thinkin' it, unless you're retarded yourself. Nah, Doc's just plain dumb, and he got hit in the head a bunch of times, both as a kid and an adult. So it could be brain damage, but he ain't retarded."

  "Is he your brother?"

  "You think I'm related to that blob?" Wayman spat a black substance onto the ground, even though he didn't seem to have any tobacco in his mouth. "I guess we are related, but not by blood. I knocked up his sister. Then she up and left, taking her pregnant belly with her but not her brother. I've got to take care of him now. Could just set him loose but that don't seem right."

  Doc emerged from the cabin. George had hoped that Ivan would awaken, transform, and mutilate him, but that hadn't been the case. Doc returned to the truck and grabbed Lou's feet.

  "Hey, Doc, you retarded?" Wayman asked.

  Doc shook his head.

  "Would you know if you were?"

  Doc shook his head again.

  "How often do you crap your pants? Tell George how often you do it."

  Doc lowered his eyes.

  "Once a week, right? Once a week my eyes start to water from the stench and I have to send you down to the creek to wash your underwear and your ass. Why do you do that, Sid? Why doesn't your ass send a signal to your brain before it lets loose? You know that's why we can't have people over, don't you? We'd be havin' high tea every afternoon at two o'clock if you could keep from shitting your pants." Wayman gestured at Lou. "Don't just stand there. Get him in the cabin."

  Doc began to drag Lou toward the cabin.

  "May I make an observation?" George asked Wayman.

  "Sure."

  "You're kind of a dick."

  'That so?"

  "Yeah. I'm rooting for this to end with Doc strangling you until your eyeballs pop out of their sockets."

  Wayman pointed his rifle at George. "And what makes you think I won't blow off your head right now?"

  "You know who I am, so this wasn't some random abduction. It seems like it would be pretty stupid to go through all this trouble just to blow off my head because I said something unkind."

  "Maybe I've got a short temper. Maybe I'm the sort to fly into a rage and act without thinking."

  "Then I apologize for calling you a dick."

  "Apology accepted."

  Doc opened the cabin door and dragged Lou inside.

  "You want him to give you a piggyback ride when it's your turn?" Wayman asked. "Oh, he gives good piggyback rides. Best in the county."

  "I think I'll pass."

  "Then why don't you just march yourself down that path to the cabin? Walk slow but not too slow. Try anything funny and I'll pull this trigger and your head will go pop. Just like that: pop. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

  "I sure don't."

  "Then get down there."

  "I've been ready for a while," said George. "I was waiting for you to finish describing my head popping open."

  George's goal was to keep Wayman annoyed but not so annoyed that he pulled the trigger. He wasn't sure yet how he planned to put this to use, but he didn't want Wayman to feel that he was completely in control of the situation. Keep him a little nervous and he might make a mistake.

  Or maybe letting him think he was completely in control of the situation was the better tactic. Keep him overconfident and he might make a mistake.

  George wasn't sure which approach was better, so he'd go with the one where he got to be a smartass.

  He slowly walked down to the cabin. Without Lou to worry about, he might have taken the risk of making a break for it. He didn't feel confident that he could suddenly charge at Wayman without getting shot in the face, but he'd watch closely for future opportunities.

  Doc had left the door ajar. The smell was awful already, but a wave of stench struck George as he pushed the door open all the way, so bad that he almost doubled over.

  "Forgot to warn you," said Wayman. "It don't smell good in there."

  George managed not to vomit as he walked inside, though his eyes were watering. He'd expected a filthy cabin. He had not expected a horror show like this. Clearly, Wayman and Doc planned to shoot any
law enforcement officials before they entered the premises, because there was evidence of crimes galore.

  Drugs and drug paraphernalia were spread out all over a coffee table. That was the tidiest part of the room.

  Ivan was shackled to the wall like a prisoner in a medieval dungeon. He was still unconscious, with his arms supporting all of his weight. His feet reached the floor but his broken legs were splayed out.

  Apparently they only had one set of shackles, because Lou sat on the floor, his one hand cuffed to a radiator. He was awake now, though he looked dazed and out of it.

  There were dead animals all over the place. A chicken was in a too-small cage as an apparent homage to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre though unlike its cinematic inspiration, this chicken was long dead. A half-skinned deer was right there on the floor. Three decapitated squirrels were nailed to the wall by their tails. Bird corpses were everywhere. A long dead snake was draped over the ceiling fan.

  George thought that a nude mannequin was laying on the couch, but no, it was a real woman. Eyes wide open. Neck purple as if she'd been strangled. George wasn't sure how long she'd been dead—she wasn't freshly murdered, but it didn't look like she'd started to rot yet. A couple of days, maybe.

  "Guess we should've covered up the whore first," said Wayman. "She ain't decent." He flashed a grin that almost made George risk getting shot in order to beat the shit out of him.

  Doc picked up a blanket from the floor.

  "Nah, don't bother," Wayman told him. "They've seen what she's got. It's not like she cares anymore. Hell, she didn't care that much before." Wayman let out such a violent snort of laughter that a spurt of snot jettisoned from his left nostril.

  Doc, unsure what to do, let the blanket drop back onto the floor.

  "You like my work?" asked Wayman, gesturing to the dead animals. "I could do better taxidermy if I had the right tools or training, but...aw, hell, I just like to mess up animals. Sometimes I eat 'em afterward, but sometimes I like to admire my work for a while, and by then they don't taste as good."

  "What do you want with us?" George asked, gagging halfway through the sentence.

  "Did you know I was a hacker?"

  George did not know this. He assumed he'd heard Wayman wrong and didn't ask for clarification.

  "A computer hacker," said Wayman.

  Prior to seeing the dead woman on the couch, George would have made a snarky comment about this revelation. Now he didn't feel like it.

  "Nah, I'm just kidding," said Wayman. He let out another snort of laughter, though this one did not dislodge any mucus. "My cousin, Neddie, though, he's a hacker. Follows a lot of private conversations. Sexytime conversations for the most part, but also stuff like there being a price on your head. And a meeting not too far from here where you were gonna be delivered to the man with the cash. Neddie gave me a heads-up, and Doc went out there to snatch you away so we could snipe the reward."

  George turned his attention away from Wayman as Ivan began to stir. Perfect. They could use some violent werewolf action right about now.

  "Doc was too late," Wayman continued, "but when he got there, you guys had burned down a bar and were driving away. Nice job."

  Ivan opened his eyes.

  "I guess you already know what happened after that," said Wayman. "Now I bet you want to know what's gonna happen next. Neddie already sent out the message. We're gonna sell you to the highest bidder."

  "Everybody who tried to cash in earlier is dead," said George. "And trust me, they died horribly. I felt sorry for them. Do you know how horribly somebody has to die for you to feel sorry for them when they were trying to cut off your head with a hacksaw?"

  "They were trying to do that?" asked Wayman.

  "Yeah."

  "That's messed up."

  George couldn't tell if he was joking or being obliviously sincere, and decided that it didn't matter. At this point, he just wanted to keep the conversation going long enough for Ivan to transform and start another massacre.

  Ivan smiled at him, showing off his missing tooth, then winked. Even in this situation, with Ivan preparing to save his life, George didn't like seeing that asshole wink at him.

  Lou seemed to realize what was about to happen. He sat up a bit straighter, and though he didn't smile, he looked slightly more upbeat than he had a moment ago.

  "What's the highest bidder so far?" George asked.

  "No bids yet," said Wayman. "They'll come. It hasn't been very long."

  "What if nobody wants to buy us?"

  "Then that would be very bad for you." He gestured around the cabin. "This is what I do when I'm in a good mood. And that includes the whore. She knew what she was doin', and I was feelin' mighty cheerful after she finished me off. But then I finished her off." Wayman howled with laughter at his witty word play. "If I feel like Doc bashed up our truck for nothing...well, you'll get to see what I do when I'm in a foul mood."

  "Noted," said George.

  Ivan's grin widened as his arms transformed into wolfman arms.

  Then he screamed.

  The metal shackles binding his wrists did not break apart like they were supposed to. Tight shackles remaining fully intact when his wrists became much larger was clearly an extremely painful experience.

  Ivan changed his arms back. His hands flopped forward, possibly the result of a pair of broken wrists. Several trickles of blood began to run down his arms.

  "Whoa, what happened there?" asked Wayman. "You try to tug your way out of those? That wasn't very smart. Oh, no, you ain't goin' nowhere."

  It looked as if Ivan was trying to move his hands but unable to do so. George hadn't felt good during this ordeal, but now his stomach began to hurt.

  Doc was gaping at Ivan. He'd clearly seen the change in Ivan's arms.

  "You've gotta let me down," said Ivan. Unless he was a spectacularly good actor, his anguish was real. He looked like he might actually burst into tears. "I've got broken legs and broken wrists and I can't stay like this!"

  "Here, let me take your mind off that," said Wayman. He walked over to Ivan and punched him in the jaw. "Did that distract you? No? What if I shoved a skunk carcass in your face? Do you want a lot of maggots or just a few maggots? Doc, find the dead skunk with a lot of maggots."

  Doc didn't move.

  Wayman clapped his hands together to get Doc's attention. "Move your butt!"

  Doc pointed at Ivan.

  "What did you see, Doc?" asked George. "Did his arms turn into werewolf arms?"

  Doc nodded frantically. "Wolf!"

  "You didn't see shit," said Wayman. "He tried to pull his arms free and it didn't work out for him."

  Doc shook his head. "Wolf!"

  "I don't know," said George. "He very well may have seen a werewolf in action."

  Wayman looked at Ivan and sneered. "Ain't no full moon, ain't no such thing as werewolves, and ain't no time for him to change back and forth without me seein' him."

  "He makes a good point," said George. "What do you think, Doc?"

  Doc continued to point at Ivan.

  "He doesn't believe you," said George. "He thinks you're an idiot."

  "He knows I think he's an idiot," said Wayman. "And he knows he's an idiot. Look at him. You think you're gonna turn us against each other?"

  That actually was indeed George's plan, though he wasn't entirely certain how he was going to pull it off. Doc was obviously used to taking abuse from Wayman, so George had to figure out how to take it to the next level. He had an idea, but wasn't sure how to convey this idea to Ivan.

  "Does anybody care that I'm a zombie?" asked Lou.

  "Oh, you're a zombie, huh?" asked Wayman. "Zombies can't talk."

  "Depends on your mythos. See how bloody I am? Unbutton my shirt. Look at all the bullet holes. I couldn't still be alive unless I'm a zombie."

  "Sure, why don't I just walk on over there and fall into your trap?" said Wayman. "Lord knows you wouldn't dream of trying to attack me when I was distrac
ted."

  "Don't you think this is a lot of blood, though?" Lou asked. "Look at all of it. How am I still alive?"

  "Maybe it's not your blood."

  "Seriously, you should see these bullet holes. They're gnarly. How about you point the rifle at me to make sure I don't try anything, and let Doc come over, check out my chest, and confirm that I'm a zombie?"

  "How about I shoot you in the chest and prove that you're not?"

  "How about I call your bluff?" asked Lou.

  "Call my bluff? How about I call your bluff?" Wayman spun the rifle around and pulled the trigger.

  George forced himself not to cry out, but he did let out a loud gasp at the small explosion of red in the center of Lou's chest. Lou's head lolled forward and he went still.

  "Hmmm," said Wayman. "Looks like he wasn't a zombie."

  George kept himself under control, even though he was only ninety percent sure that Lou was faking his death. Then he decided that keeping himself under control might mess up the plan so he let his emotions out and began shouting curses at Wayman, while making sure not to move toward him and risk getting shot himself.

  "Hey, he told me to do it!" Wayman insisted. "I don't know what he thought was gonna happen." He reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone. He scowled as he glanced at the screen.

  "Any news from your cousin?" asked George.

  "That's none of your business."

  "What are you talking about? Nothing could be more my business!"

  "What I mean is, shut the fuck up," said Wayman.

  "So no bids yet?"

  "You want the same treatment as your friend? You want that? I promise you, this rifle ain't empty."

  Wayman was focused on George and facing away from Ivan, so he didn't see when Ivan transformed his head into its wolf form. Doc certainly did, though. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.

  Ivan waggled his long wolf tongue and opened his jaws in a silent roar.

  "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" Doc shouted.

  Wayman looked at Doc, then at Ivan, who had changed back. "You need to stop this bullshit."

  Lou raised his head and gave Doc a bloody smile.

  "Zombie!" Doc shouted, pointing at Lou, just as Lou lolled his head forward again and pretended to be dead.