Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman (22 page)

Chapter 31

Pain.
Pain so raw it blistered his insides, scraped the blisters off with a rusty
wire brush, painted the remaining sores with gasoline, and lit them on fire. As
the change gripped Dallas, his spine, ribcage, arms, legs, wrists, and ankles
all cracked, split, and reformed, but the binding ropes left no room for his
body to expand. Like tree roots pushing up from under the sidewalk’s concrete,
Dallas’s altering body pushed against his restraints and found them unyielding.
It was like being squeezed by a vice or run through a sausage grinder.
Considering the two, he decided it was actually quite a bit like both.

“Help!”
he moaned, the word drooping and warping as his jaw stretched and lowered. It
didn’t matter though. There was no one to hear him. He was completely and
utterly alone in his agony.

As
suddenly as it started, the fierce pain of the change finally passed, leaving
only the more natural pain of ropes cutting deep into his flesh. Dallas gasped,
his breath coming in shallow pants. He was so tightly bound that even breathing
was a chore. Angry at being trapped and desperate to see the moon, he flexed
his muscular limbs and heard the ropes creak in response. A low growl burbling
up from deep in his gut, he flexed again, straining every muscle in his
transformed body. This time, his keen ears heard the ropes groan from stress
and the popping of tiny threads as they split and tore. Panting with exertion,
he braced himself for one more attempt.

The
ropes burst, the wooden chair shattered, and Dallas was free. Only the flimsy,
furry handcuffs held him. Rising up to his full height, head grazing the joists
above, he rolled his shoulders and readied his arms to snap the links that
bound his wrists.

“
Hestra numto boll tar dollan
! Tawdry
trinkets used for fun, heed my words and weigh a ton!” a voice called out, and
suddenly he found himself face down on the floor. The cuffs binding his wrists
felt like they actually did weigh about two-thousand pounds. Wriggling and
scrabbling to get his feet under him, Dallas tried to find the leverage to lift
his arms, but the cuffs were too heavy.

“Sorry,
Dallas. I was worried the ropes wouldn’t be enough, so I enchanted the
hand-cuffs,” Lois called down from the top of the stairs.

Rage
boiled up and Dallas roared. He was hungry. He needed to feed. Scooting around,
he managed to get into a sitting position, strangely bent legs on either side
of where his wrists were firmly anchored to the floor. Flexing his shoulders
and back, he pulled, but the cuffs didn’t budge. Flexing again, he heard
tendons stretch and pop.

“Dallas,
can you understand me? Try to calm down. You’re going to rip out your arms.”
Lois stepped carefully down the stairs while watching Dallas with trepidation.

Trapped. Hungry,
he whined.

“Oh,
wow. I can understand him,”
a
voice said. A voice he recognized.

“He’s
hungry and pissed. Tell Stanley to bring down some food,”
the voice continued.

“Stanley!
Bring the steaks,” Lois called out.

I’m trapped. I’m hungry.

“I
know, Dallas, but you’ll be okay. You’re gonna get through this,”
Herb’s tinny voice soothed.

“S-steaks
are here!” Stanley announced, almost tripping on the stairs in his haste.
Seeing the beast that Dallas had become, he skidded to a halt. “Whoa. Dallas,
you’re sc-scary looking.”

The
smell of raw meat hit Dallas’s nose, and he howled in response.

Meat. Meat! Mine. All mine. Meat!

“Just
toss one over, Stanley,”
Herb
advised.

Stanley
lobbed a slab of meat underhand, and it landed with a wet thwack next to
Dallas’s pinned hands. Hunching forward, he grabbed it in his muzzle and
scarfed it down.

More. More meat.

“Keep
‘em coming, Stanley,”
Herb
said. As hunk after hunk of meat landed near Dallas and was immediately gobbled
up, Herb continued to talk in a soothing tone.

“There
you go, bud. There you go. Feeling a little better now?”

“Yes
,
”
Dallas grunted, the word coming out as a satisfied woof. He actually was
starting to feel much better. The all-consuming hunger that seemed to infuse
every fiber of his being was subsiding like a slow tide. It occurred to him
that he actually felt like himself. Well, a larger, furrier, hungrier, and
slightly more ornery version of himself, but still.

“I’m
me. I’m still me,” he woofed and chuffed. “I’m still here. The wolf is here
too, but I think I can handle it.”

Herb
related his message to Lois and Stanley. Stan clapped his hands
enthusiastically, while Lois was more contemplative.

“It’s
not that different from what happened with Herb, I guess. He was acting on
instinct at first but started to learn to control himself. Maybe the same is
true for werewolves, or at least for you.” Tapping her lower lip with her finger,
she reached a decision.

“We
trust you, Dallas. We trust you to keep control and not kill us. I’m going to
lift the enchantment from the hand-cuffs. Is that a good idea?”

“Yes!
God, yes. Get these damn things off’a me. It’s like being in the stockades,”
Dallas growled.

“Herb…?”
Lois asked.

“Oh,
uh, yeah, sorry. He said yes, we can trust him. Or at least, close enough.”
Herb said.

Lois
closed her eyes, wove her hands through an intricate series of gestures and
spoke another odd assortment of vowels and consonants. Suddenly, the enchanted
one-ton cuffs weighed nothing more than novelty store cuffs. Overjoyed, Dallas
stood and flung his arms wide, shattering the links that had bound him a moment
before. Sliding a thick, clawed digit inside first one, then the other cuff, he
popped them off easy as snapping the tab on a beer can.

Freedom
felt good, and Dallas let loose a joyful howl in celebration. Seeing Lois and
Stanley take hasty steps back, he dropped down to his haunches, shook his head,
and licked his chops.

“Thanks,”
he woofed. “I totally get that you had to be prepared, but it feels really,
really good to have those off.” As Herb translated, Dallas tried to explain
what he was feeling.

“I
really do feel pretty okay. I mean, like normal. Things look funny, and I can
hear and smell damn near everything but not in a weird way. Does that make
sense?”

When
Herb translated, Lois nodded. “I suppose. This is who you are now. I’m just
glad it’s you. If the wolf was in control, I imagine it would be a different story.”

Dallas
bobbed his head in agreement. “Oh, the wolf’s there. Right there. It wants
things, too. Like more of that steak and to be outside with the moon. You think
we could head up and chat in the back yard? Kinda going crazy down here.”

Soon
the two humans, werewolf, and vampire in a can were sitting in a loose circle
in Dallas’s back yard. A silvery globe hung overhead, bathing them in reflected
light and casting watery shadows. Lois was scratching Dallas’s ear while
Stanley and Herb debated what the moon had to do with any of this.

“It’s
b-because Khonsu wanted a dog,” Stanley explained.

“Khonsu?”
Lois asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure.
He was the Egyptian moon god. He always wanted a dog, so he g-got a great big
one, a wolf. B-but that wolf howled and made a racket every night, so Ra, the
sun god, he got m-mad. Being the sun god’s a lot of work, believe you me. Ra
wasn’t getting enough sleep because of that wolf dog, so he told Khonsu to shut
that d-dog up or he’d t-take it away. Khonsu told Ra to shove it, and they
fought and fought and are fighting still. Usually, Ra’s winning ‘cause he’s the
s-sun god, you know. Pretty tough, that sun. But Khonsu, he gets the upper
hand, and that moon gets b-big and full, and for a few nights he gets to have
his d-dog back.”

Lois
clapped appreciatively. “Not bad, Stanley. Where did you learn that?”

Stanley
blushed. “Oh, I was reading some old books. Society research, you know. We
g-gotta be reading all sorts of books. I don’t know if that’s really what
h-happened though,” he confessed. “It just sounded good.”

“Well,
it’s as good a theory as any, I suppose. You like that one Dallas?” she asked,
shifting her hand to ruffle the fur on his head.

“Yep.
Good story, Stan,” Dallas chuffed. “Almost as good as the one where you went
back inside the house and got me another steak.”

Herb
laughed and translated, sending Stanley on his way.

“Only
t-two left, Dallas,” Stanley said when he returned. “That gonna be enough, you
think? I mean, you ate five already.”

Dallas
thought about it as he munched happily on the chewy meat. He’d always figured
that werewolves just wanted to run around and kill people. It was a pleasant
surprise to realize that they were mostly just really, really hungry.

Can’t fault a guy for getting a bit
crabby when he’s got a hankering,
he decided.
Hell, once I practically
punched out a Girl Scout when she was taking too long to make change for a box
of Thin Mints.

“I
guess,” Dallas said, woofing in a tone that implied he’d get by. “How much
longer do I have before I’m human again?”

“Moon
sets in about two more hours,”
Herb
answered.

“That’s
okay,” Dallas said. “Kinda nice sitting back here with you guys.”

 
“A wolf, a witch, a vampire, and Stan, sitting
under the stars,” Lois wondered out loud, looking up at an unfathomable sky.
“Funny how things work out.”

 
 
Funny
indeed,
thought Dallas, circling Lois so she could more easily scratch his
other ear.
Funny indeed.

Chapter 32

Three
weeks quietly slipped by. With no solid plan for how to handle the new normal they’d
been thrust into, they had decided to keep a low profile until Dan’s
disappearance blew over. Lois and Dallas worked while Stanley did whatever it
was Stanley did to pass the days. It was so completely normal that Dallas was
almost able to forget the fact that things were anything but normal. Almost,
until the Sasquatch showed up.

Lois
had brought Herb over. The three were discussing whether Slow Johnson would let
him be an honorary team member in the winter bowling league when there was a
gentle tapping at the front door.

“That’ll
be Stanley. Took him long enough,” Dallas grumbled. “Guy’s got one job, get me
food, and he turns it into a three hour excursion. Must’ve had the list upside
down.”

With
a proper ass-chewing queued up for Stanley, Dallas opened the door and prepared
to unload. The tirade got stuck about halfway between his lungs and his lips
when he realized he was staring at a gigantic, furry stomach. Looking down, he
saw two tree-trunk legs extending to the ground, terminating in the biggest
feet he had ever seen. Shifting his head in the other direction, his eyes
travelled up and up and up across a broad, hairy torso, impossibly wide
shoulders, and finally, to a wide mouthed, wide nosed, wide browed simian face
looking down at him with two large, brown eyes.

“HELPUH,”
the wide mouth uttered.

Dallas
screamed in shock and followed the scream with three quick jabs into the
creature’s stomach.

“Where
the hell did you come from? There ain’t no gorillas in Wisconsin! Lois, grab
Herb and run! I’ll hold it off.”

Feet
dancing, Dallas fired punch after punch at the leviathan standing on his front
stoop.

“You
probably didn’t realize,”

Punch. Jab, jab, punch.

“That
you knocked on the wrong goddamn door.”

Shift and duck, jab, jab, punch!

“This
here ain’t just the home of a goddamn hero,”

Duck and weave, punch, punch.

“but
the home of a bona fide monster hunter!”

Despite
the flurry of blows, the monster simply stood passively until Dallas finally
wound down and stopped swinging.

“Turds
on toast. You’re a tough one, aren’t ya?” he wheezed, doubling over with his
hands on his knees.

A
hand the size of an extra large skillet reached up and rubbed at the belly
Dallas had just used for an impromptu punching bag.

“OWWEE,”
it said in the same low, loud voice. “HELPUH.”

“Oh,
I’ll help you, alright. I’ll help you pack up that huge monster ass and ship it
straight back to whatever hell you crawled out of. You might be big, but I’ve
taken down bigger. Damn right, I have. Well, maybe not literally. You are
pretty big, but what I mean is, I’ve tangled with five, six guys at once, you
know? Add all that up, and I’m sure they were as big combined as you are all by
yourself. Bigger. Hell, yeah, lots bigger. So you got a choice, buddy. Walk
those huge feet right outta here, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“NO.
HELPUH. SCARED.”

Dallas
cracked his knuckles and settled back into a boxing stance. “Oh, you better be
scared. You better be,”

“Dallas!
Stop,” Lois interjected. “Leave him alone.”

Incredulous,
he spun to face Lois. “I told you to grab Herby and run for it! Geez, woman.
I’m trying to watch out for you, keep you safe. That’s hard to do,” he
explained slowly, “if you don’t listen.”

Lois
rolled her eyes. “He’s not trying to hurt us. God, look at him! If he wanted to
cause trouble, I don’t think there’s anything we could do to stop him. Now why
don’t you stop posturing and ask him why he needs help instead of hitting him?”

“Oh
it’s a ‘him,’ now, is it? And how would you know that, little miss
know-it-all?”

Lois
pointed. Dallas followed the direction of her finger and whistled.

“Oh.
Right.”

Stepping
past Dallas, Lois looked up into the thing’s liquid eyes. She sighed and asked,
almost bashfully, “You’re a Sasquatch, right? Like Bigfoot?” Childlike wonder
lit up her face. “Are you him?”

What
looked suspiciously like a smile worked its way across the broad, simian face.

“NO.”
A finger went up and scratched a temple. “CLAN. SAME. HE OLD. ME YOUNG.”

Lois
giggled like a schoolgirl on a merry-go-round, but Dallas simply stared. Not
only was the eight-foot tall gorilla talking, but, if he was following the
conversation properly, was also related to Bigfoot.
The
Bigfoot.

“But
that can’t be,” he muttered. “Bigfoots don’t exist.”

The
Sasquatch waved happily, face still split with a grin showing wide, smooth
teeth.

“You
said, ‘help,’” Lois said. “Help with what? Why are you scared?”

“HUNTER.
CLOSE. HURTUH…” the next word sounded like a boulder rolling down a cliff.

“That
was his name, in his tongue,”
Herb
chimed in.

He’s right,
Dallas thought.
I understood him too.

The
realization jarred another not-too-distant memory. When they’d tracked down the
boo hag, it had spoken to Dallas and said some kind of confusing things. Now
though, the pieces were falling into place. No one else had commented on their
conversation. It had spoken directly to Dallas, something about being one of
its own.

She knew I was a werewolf, or at
least a monster like she was, and she talked to me.

“I
think monsters all speak monster,” he said, awed by the possibilities. “I mean,
there was this boo hag,”

“MOLLY,”
the Sasquatch said, smile fading.

“What?
Oh. Crap. Um, sorry? I didn’t, I mean, she was eating people’s breath…” Dallas
faltered and started to pluck at a speck of something on his shirt. “Anyway,
she talked to me. I didn’t get what she was talking about, but I understood
her, and I don’t think anyone else even knew she was talking.”

Lois
nodded her acceptance, then looked up at the Sasquatch. “Is there another name
we can call you? A human name, maybe?”

The
Sasquatch frowned and scratched its temple again. It pursed its lips and
clucked its tongue experimentally.

“KU-
KU,” it started. “KEVIN.” The smile returned in full force, complete with
crinkled eyes and a tongue as big as a size nine sneaker sticking out between
its teeth.

“Kevin,”
Lois repeated, smiling back. “I like that. It’s a nice name. You’re safe here,
Kevin,” she continued with a loaded look at Dallas. “No one else is going to hit
you, and I’m sorry Dallas did in the first place. He’s a jerk.”

“Hey,
come on! I thought I was helping!” Dallas protested. “I didn’t know he was a
friendly Bigfoot. I thought he was a giant killer gorilla.” Dallas looked from
Lois to Herb-in-a-can and back. “Right? I mean, look at him. Scary gorilla!”

“And
now you know he’s not, and next time maybe you’ll take a minute to find out
before you start swinging,” Lois chided. “Anyway, he won’t hit you again,
Kevin. You said ‘owee.’ Did Dallas hurt you?”

“NO.
BAD FOODUH.” Again, the pause followed by a frown, which Dallas was starting to
associate with deep thought. “POISONUH.”

As
Kevin said the word, a rumbling fart like the world’s biggest whoopee cushion
split the air.

“Oh
my g-god! Whaaaah. I was right b-behind you!” Stanley’s voice cried out from
somewhere on the other side of the Sasquatch. “And my m-mouth was open. Oh man.
It t-tastes like old cat food.”

Squeezing
around Kevin’s bulk, Stanley made his way into the house.

“Hello
Mr. Sasquatch. I’m Stanley. P-please don’t fart on me again.”

“SORRY.
BAD FOODUH.”

Lois
took Kevin’s massive hand and patted it gently. “It’s okay. We’ll see if we can
help you feel better. If you come inside, can you be careful? Not break
things?”

Kevin
nodded his head and without further invitation, ducked, turned, and slid in
through the open door. Dallas, Lois, and Stanley all stepped out of the way and
continued to back into the living room as the Sasquatch stepped carefully
inside. The ceiling of the rambler was only eight feet high, so Kevin dipped
his head a little to accommodate his height.

“THERE?”
he asked politely, pointing to an empty corner.

Lois
looked at Dallas for permission.

“What?
Oh, sure. Yeah, make yourself comfy. Um. Do you drink beer?”