“Sounded like a dog or something to me,” Stacy said.
“A dog?” Joan asked, giving Craig a dirty look.
“Yeah, you know, one of those furry little animals we keep in our homes that run around, sniffing each other’s butts.”
“Funny,” Craig quipped.
“Yeah, real funny,” Joan said.
“Seriously, guys. We came to a graveyard for laughs and drinks and to finally break Derrick free of that funk he’s been in, and now we’re talking about some stupid animal that makes me sneeze. Speaking of animals, where the hell is Derrick at anyway?” Stacy asked.
“He went to take a leak,” Craig took another swig of his beer. “Besides, you don’t even like the guy anyway. Why you so worried where he ran off to?”
Joan giggled.
“He’s been gone a while,” Stacy said.
“You finally plan on doing something when he has his dick whipped out?”
Stacy took a deep breath. “Guys. Seriously? It’s not that I don’t like Derrick, ya know? I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, just sorta dorky.”
This time Joan didn’t just giggle. She busted out laughing, really busting a gut. Beer shot out her nose.
Craig laughed. “What do you mean you don’t like Derrick? He’s a cool guy. I mean, sure he can be a little flaky at times, but who can’t? Shit. You better not say that shit when he gets back or I’ll sock ya in the nose, Stacy.”
“Hey,” Joan said.
“Well? What do you expect me to do when your friend is making fun of my best friend since fucking sixth grade, Joan? Huh? I’m not just gonna sit here on this blanket in some fucking graveyard and listen to her talk shit about him. Nope. No fucking way. Next time she pulls that shit, especially if Derrick is around, you can tell her yourself that I’m gonna either sock her in the nose or dump this here beer on her head.” Craig took a long pull on his can and crushed it with one hand. “Maybe not this particular beer, but I’ll get a fresh one outta the cooler and dump it all over that pretty little blonde head of hers. Huh. Speaking of head, Joany-baby, why don’t you come on over to Craigy and let me feel those world-class lips and mouth on my…”
Joan gave Craig a quick slap across the face.
Craig had proven freshman year that he was not someone to mess with. The star running back had come up to him in the hallway on the first day of high school and started slapping him around for no reason at all. Craig wasn’t big, at least not compared to the 185-pound black boy in his face, but neither the football player nor anyone else in the school knew that Craig’s father was a black belt in Tai Kwon Do and had taught him a thing or two outside of the Do Jo. Craig was a badass and nobody knew it—yet. But there in the hallway on their first day of high school, as he, his best friend Derrick, his eighth-grade girlfriend Joan, and the new transfer, Stacy, were standing around talking by their lockers, Craig kicked that football player’s ass all up and down the hallway.
A big group of onlookers, including some teachers who apparently didn’t want to piss off their star running back’s parents by disciplining him on school grounds, were around to see it all. After the initial teasing, which led into him shoving Craig against his locker, the star football player didn’t get off another shove or punch. Craig had been that quick, landing jab after jab and even a few kicks. The football player ended up falling to the floor. Craig was on top of him a moment later, punching, slapping, and even biting until Principal Wadsworth had rushed down the hall and ripped Craig off the school’s poor ol’ star running back, Julius Thompson.
When all was said and done, Craig received a week’s suspension, followed by three in-school two-hour detentions. Even having to come to school two hours early had been worth it to prove to everyone that just because someone was involved with sports, it didn’t mean they were Billy Badass or anything even close. Craig always said sports were meant for meatheads who couldn’t do anything else with themselves but dive on and butt-wrestle people onto their respective playing surfaces. The only reason he eventually went out for baseball was to make his college applications look good. The best part of all as the school years came and went, was that no one ever again fucked with him or his best friend.
So, Craig was damned if some snot-nose little dick-tease virgin and an overall prude (everyone in the group, if not the entire student body back in high school, knew that Stacy was never going to go out with Derrick and was just stringing him along) was going to fuck with his boy, man. Craig pulled another beer out of the cooler, popped its top and took a long drink. The fourth beer tasted just as good as the third, whose carcass lay crumpled nearby.
Derrick came running up to them from behind an old headstone, still zipping up his pants. The right side of his jeans, from his crotch to his knee, looked dark and wet like he had half-pissed himself. Moonlight glistened on his sweaty forehead, and he was out of breath. Seeing his friend, Craig dropped his beer onto the blanket and ran up to Derrick, who was wheezing and still trying to catch his breath. Craig hoped his buddy had remembered to bring his inhaler with him.
Craig put a hand on his friend’s trembling right shoulder. “Dude! You ok, man? What’s the problem? Somebody messin’ with you out there while you were taking a piss, ’cause if so, you show me where they ran off to and I’ll hunt them down and skin them alive with his here hunting knife.” Derrick pulled a ten-inch blade from the sheath clipped to his waistband under his t-shirt and flashed it in Derrick’s face. Craig heard the girls behind him, probably more Stacy than Joan, let out a huff. They were probably shaking their heads in disgust.
Derrick tried to speak, but only sobs and bits of words that didn’t make sense came out.
“Dude! You hear me? You ok, man? Shit.” Craig looked past his friend, who was now bent over with his hands on his knees and his head between his legs, and screamed out, “Ok, you fuckers, wherever the fuck you are, you better come out right now or I’m gonna hunt you down like the pussies you are and make you piss—no, shit—your fucking pants and go cryin’ home to momma. Bitches. Where are ya, huh?”
Craig heard Joan mumble. He turned around and faced the girls.
“What? You two got somethin’ on your mind? Stacy, you say one word and I’m gonna slit your fucking throat.” He drew the blunt side of the blade across his neck and made a shhh sound.
“Jesus H. Christ on a rubber crutch, Craig,” Joan said. “Calm the hell down. All I said was that you need to keep your voice down or somebody is gonna hear and come bust us. Shoot. Remember, we are all under drinking age here, you’re half crocked and so is Stacy. Well, ok, I guess we are all buzzin’ right now, but still, you need to keep it down or the cops or caretaker or somebody is gonna find us. Damnit. I shouldn’t even be out here with you guys sitting in a smelly boneyard…”
“Shut it, Joan. I don’t wanna hear your lip right now.” He turned back to Derrick, who looked like he had calmed down some. “Dude. Seriously. Are you ok?”
Derrick bobbed his head up and down a few times from in between his knees and stood up, holding on to his pounding chest. Craig needed to know what had scared the hell out of him. He motioned for Derrick to hold on a minute, walked to the cooler and fished a beer from the watery ice. Derrick grabbed the dripping can, popped its top, took a very long drink and plopped down on the wet grass. Craig thought better of warning his friend about getting his pants even more wet than they were already. Instead, he sat down on his haunches, reached over and started rubbing Derrick’s shoulder. Craig could feel him trembling under his touch.
“Sorry, man,” Derrick finally said, taking another sip of his beer. He belched, looked down into his lap and said, “Shit. Guess I pissed myself pretty good.”
Craig just chuckled once. “Hey it’s cool, man. Nobody has to know about that shit. Those chicks back there won’t say nothin’ to nobody…if they do…” he patted his hip where he had slid the hunting knife back in its sheath. “…I’ll slit them ear to ear.” Then he let out a hearty chuckle.
“Cool cool. Yeah, there’s one little problem,” Derrick said.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that…some bastards out there scare the shit outta you or something?”
“Not quite.”
“Well shit, man. Tell me what the hell happened over there.”
“You didn’t hear it?” Derrick looked up at Craig and took another sip of cold beer.
“Hear wh—”
“That howl.”
From the look in his friend’s eyes and the way he was choosing his words instead of blurting them out, Craig could feel his scrotum start to shrivel.
“Um, yeah.” Craig took another sip of his beer. “We heard some dog or some people fucking or something. Why, what’s up? Seeing two dogs humping scared the piss…”
Derrick just shook his head. Tears started rolling down his already sweat-covered cheeks.
“Dude! What is it? What the shit is the matter?”
With his outburst, Craig could hear the girls shuffling across the grass toward him and Derrick.
“It wasn’t a dog,” Derrick said, matter-of-factly.
“Ok, it wasn’t a dog. Probably some coyote. My dad told me there were some coyotes overrunning the area. He and his buddy Adam were going out hunting tomorrow morning for them. Which reminds me, he invited you and me to go along if you—”
“It wasn’t a coyote.”
“Huh,” Craig said. He twisted his head and saw the girls standing within earshot. He whispered, “Ok. So it wasn’t a coyote. Shit, man. Actually, it probably was. It’s so dark in this place that you probably couldn’t tell the difference between a coyote and a dog anyway. And besides, whether it was a coyote or a dog or whatever the shit, who cares, ya know? Those things don’t like humans any more than we like them…coyotes, anyway. There’s nothin’ to be afraid of as long as we don’t mess with them and I have my trusty knife here with me.” He patted his hip to double-check that he did indeed still have his knife on him just in case some rabid coyote or dog or whatever should jump out from behind a nearby gravestone and come charging toward the group.
Derrick started to bawl his eyes out. His shoulders jumped up and down with each quick breath.
“Derrick, you ok?” Stacy asked.
Craig wanted to tell her to “stay the hell out of it” but he kept his mouth shut. For one, if he spoke out to her again, Joan would more than likely not give him a blowjob—all the further she would go with him—later. Two, even if Stacy was a tease, she did care about Derrick, him, and Joan, and she would lay her life on the line to take care of any one of them.
“I…uhhh…” Derrick muttered a single word that sent shivers down Craig’s arms and down his spine, standing the little hairs on the back of his neck on end: “Mom.”
“Huh? What, Derrick? What’s going on with your mom’s grave?”
Craig turned around and his eyes became as big as saucers looking at the two girls. They stepped up behind him even closer and leaned over his shoulders, looking down at their friend.
Derrick, in clear words, said, “He dug her up, man.” He choked back some sobs and wiped his eyes. “He dug he up and bit her, man. Just dug her up and bit her…just dug her up and bit her…just dug her up and bit her…” He started rocking back and forth on his butt. He pulled his legs close to his chest, continuing, continuing, to rock back and forth.
“Jesus H. Christ on a rubber crutch,” Joan said as she leaned over Craig’s back and placed her hand on top of Derrick’s head. Stacy came around, knelt down by him, getting the knees on her jeans wet from the grass, and pulled Derrick to her. She rocked along with him.
Craig stood up and looked around. Eerie, dark places were everywhere around them. Shadows seemed to jump from headstone to headstone. He couldn’t see anyone out there, dog, coyote, human, or otherwise, but couldn’t be sure they weren’t. That was the essence of the problem. It was just too damn dark in the cemetery to really see much beyond twenty-five feet or so in any direction. The moonlight cast some light onto the death-filled grounds, but it definitely was not enough if there was someone—or something—out there watching them, ready to pounce. Derrick reached under his t-shirt and patted the leather-wrapped handle to his hunting knife. He knelt back down by Derrick. He must have missed something that Derrick had been saying while he was studying the dark recesses around them.
“Dude. Derrick. I’m sorry, what were you saying? I was making sure that someone or some dog or coyote or whatever the fuck wasn’t coming at us.” He reached out and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Derrick jerked away from him and started crying, again. “Jesus. What the hell happened out there, guys?”
“When you were busy looking around he told us, Craig. I think we may have a problem,” Joan said, and stood up. Craig let her lead him away from Derrick and Stacy.
“What do you mean, ‘we may have a problem’?”
“Well, remember when he was mumbling something about someone digging up his mom’s grave and biting her?”
“Uh, well, yeah, but I just figured that it was the shadows or somebody messing with him or something. I figured he was just in shock and his brain was going funny on him again just like it did when…”
Craig could tell that Joan was about ready to slap him, again, so he bit his lip from saying anything further about what had happened. After his mom was killed by a drunk driver and his dad took off, Derrick had been staying with Craig until they all went off to college and he could get his life back on track.
“Don’t be an ass, Craig. He’s your best friend.”
“Hey. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. Anyway, what was he telling you?”
Joan cleared her throat. “That not just someone dug up his mom’s grave and bit her, but that…” Now even Joan was starting to cry.
What a bunch of pussies I run around with, Craig thought. He pulled Joan to his chest and held her against him. He could feel her tiny frame shaking against his chest. “Baby, what is it? What happened out there?”
“Ok. Ok. I’m all right,” Joan said, pulling away from Craig and wiping the tears from her eyes. Then she said, “It was his dad.”
“Huh? What? His dad?”
“Derrick saw his dad just dig up his mom and bite her neck and then he…”
“He what, Joany?”
“You know how we heard something howl?” Joan said.
Craig thought it was sort of backtracking to be going back to the howl but let it pass. “Yeah. Ok. What about it?”
“His dad turned into a werewolf.”
Craig’s stomach sank and he figured that Derrick must have heard what Joan had said, because he let out a loud cry and fell away from Stacy’s arms to roll around in the wet grass. Craig looked from his friend to Stacy, who was shaking her hands up and down, and back to Joan.
“But that’s not all,” Joan then said.
Shit. What else could be worse than this?
“Well, you know how his dad wasn’t exactly the nicest of guys, anyway, even before his mom passed away?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, because of all this shit that just happened…”
“Damnit, Joan, spit it out!”
“Derrick wants to hunt him down.”
Fuck. The word wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
Chapter Three
Even after Joan had told him what Derrick had witnessed, Craig had to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. After he and Joan finished talking, they embraced, kissed, and told each other that everything was going to be all right. Even with the reassurance from Joan, Craig still had a huge pit in his stomach. It was just insanely hard to believe all this. The thought of someone digging up a grave, let alone biting a corpse and morphing into a werewolf, sent shivers down his spine.
As Craig walked over to Derrick, sitting in the grass next to Stacy, he thought how he was going to approach his best friend about the whole ordeal. He surely couldn’t tell Derrick that he thought he was crazy and that it was more than likel
y just his imagination and the shadows creeping in the graveyard playing tricks on his eyes. That would just send his friend over the edge.
Hell, he’s already lost it, just look at his sorry ass, Craig thought, instantly feeling bad about making fun of his friend even if it was to no one else but himself. Derrick had gone through a lot the past month. First his mother died in a car crash with lots of speculation around whether it really was just an accident or someone had cut the brake lines, and his father running out on him.
Derrick had never been the outgoing type back in high school. Hell, it took a lot for Craig himself to get his best friend to open up to him half the time, but the fact of the matter was Derrick and Craig were best friends to the end. In fact, they were even planning on going to the same college together come fall.
Craig stepped up next to Derrick, bent down, and patted his friend on the back. Derrick looked up, gave a half-smile, and then returned his blank stare back to the ground between his bent legs. Shit, Craig thought, it always took me a hell of a time to get him to talk when it was just us screwing around. Just look at him now; it’ll probably take me a half hour just to get him to utter one word to me. What a fucking mess!
Tonight was suppose to be one of their last times as a group before heading off to college—all fun and some drinking in a spooky place—but now it had turned into a nightmare that they were going to have to deal with as a group, whatever that would entail.
“Hey, man,” Craig sat down on his haunches. “We’re gonna get through this, ok? Just trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”
“No.”
Craig looked over at Stacy and up at Joan and smiled. He turned back to Derrick. “Ok, man. We gotta get you off this wet grass. You’re gonna catch your death.” As soon as he said the word “death” he regretted it.
“Ugh.”
“Shit. Sorry, man. I’m an ass, ok? You know I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that we need to get you off the ground and back onto the blanket. OK? Then we can sort this whole thing out.”
Grave Intentions Page 2