“Right. The boo hag should bolt from the tent. Randall and I will pounce and stake it. If it slips past us or doubles back toward the tent, I’d strongly encourage you to not engage and let Tia catch it. The girl’s faster than a jackrabbit after a double espresso. If you’ve got the option, let her handle it. I’d rather it got away,”
“Not going to happen,” Aletia stated flatly.
“Understood, but if it by some unimaginable possibility it does get past you, we’ll track it and get it later. I don’t want the newbie getting hurt.”
Dallas snorted, but kept his mouth shut. With a final nod from Colton, the group split up. Colton and Randall made their way through the trees toward the riverbank, while Aletia and Dallas continued toward the campsite. Dallas covertly watched her as she moved catlike through the brush, eyes glued to her shapely behind.
Too soon, they reached the point where she would hang back and Dallas would continue on his own. While disappointed that he wouldn’t be enjoying the scenery nearly as much, he stepped past her with a reassuring nod. Moving as quietly as he could, which made him feel like an elephant in a room full of cymbals compared to her, he trekked toward site eleven.
It wasn’t long before he saw the large, fancy tent. Typical of the type city folk liked to buy so they could be in nature without the inconvenience of really being in nature, it was an imposing collection of polyester and Gore-tex framed with carbon fiber poles. It looked innocent enough, but even if Colton hadn’t told him where to go, Dallas would’ve known this was the place. The burger-Fritos-tabasco fart smell was close to overpowering. He had yet to hear Randall’s bird call but knew they’d be in position soon.
Dallas slipped his flask from its pouch on his tool belt and took a long swig. Replacing it carefully, he crouched behind a wide tree and reminded his jangling nerves that he was one hundred and ten percent bad ass.
“Zee-zee-zeeee. Zee-zee-zeeee.”
Dallas raised the pot and ladle and set to rapidly banging the two together. Before he could even count to four, a scream split the air. Something lurched inside the tent, causing the side to bulge, and the whole tent to lean precariously. Another scream was followed by a rending sound as polyester was torn asunder. The boo hag had apparently decided the front entrance was too easy and was tearing its way out of a window panel instead. Dallas watched two hands poke through a small hole and quickly rip a larger one. Arms pushed through, followed by a man’s head. Terrified eyes looked left and right as part of his torso and a leg pushed through the growing rent in the tent’s side. Stumbling on the fabric, the man fell forward and landed solidly on his belly.
The man lay face down for a moment, stunned by the fall, and Dallas knew they had made a mistake. This wasn’t a monster. Just a middle aged camper they’d obviously startled from a deep sleep. A tube sock-clad foot kicked ineffectually at the sleeping bag that the poor guy had dragged through the tent’s torn wall. His faded Chicago Bears tee shirt, plaid boxers, and rumpled, blond hair were the least monstery things Dallas had ever seen. At worst, the guy was a FIP. Those fucking Illinois people were always coming up to his woods and taking up space in his bars, but that didn’t make them monsters.
When the startled camper looked up from the dirt, his eyes were confused and frightened. Dallas felt his face go bright red in response. If the guy had been a buddy of his, it would’ve made for a fine prank. In this case though, Dallas just felt like a jerk. Dropping the pot and ladle, he started to walk forward, hand extended to help the poor guy up.
“Dallas! No!” Colton’s voice cracked like a whip as he and Randall broke from the brush. They charged the tent, stakes drawn. The camper saw them, too. With a snarl, he turned and locked eyes with Dallas.
The next few moments moved in surreal slowness. Dallas saw the man’s mouth stretch as if to scream, but what came out sounded more like a strong wind through a tunnel. The man’s teeth were bared, and the lips were sliding further and further up the gums. Soon, they’d slid far enough up that the man’s eyes disappeared beneath the skin of his cheeks. As he pushed himself up from the ground, a glistening skull wrapped in a lace-like web of red and blue veins crowned in the mouth. The head’s abandoned skin slipped down and flopped back like a blonde-haired hoodie, lips ringing the neck like a gummy worm necklace. The man’s arms seemed to deflate, and odd shapes rippled and distended his chest. First one, then two, then a whole collection of fingers and thumbs worked their way out and stretched the lips impossibly wide so shoulders and arms wrapped in twisting muscles and pulsing, blue veins could shrug free. With a final shake, the skin sagged down the hag’s torso like a falling bathrobe, revealing a lean and completely skinless woman.
“Run!” Colton screamed. “Dammit Dallas, move your ass!”
Before Dallas’s shocked brain could even begin to process the complex instructions someone was yelling at him, the boo hag closed the gap between them. Even without eyelids, Dallas was sure a look of recognition passed over the monster’s staring eyes before it lurched in the opposite direction like a gory, overgrown fifth grader doing the shuttle run in gym class.
No skin. Dallas’s brain skipped on the same thought like a busted record. Like, no skin.
The boo hag screamed another rushing-wind scream and charged straight for Colton and Randall. At the last instant, Colton dove into a sideways roll while Randall thrust out with his stake. It was a well-practiced move, but the boo hag was impossibly fast. Ducking, it grabbed Randall below the armpits and lifted him into the air. Still running toward the river, the boo hag carried Randall aloft like an Olympic torch, immune to his kicks and screams.
“She’s got me! She’s got me!” he cried out in a high pitched voice. “Holy crap, the bitch got me!”
Dallas’s trance was broken by a sharp whistling past his ear. A split-second later, a knife handle appeared in the boo hag’s back, causing it to stumble. Randall sailed like a discarded rag doll through the air for a few more feet before he slammed into a tree trunk. Dallas clearly heard the crack of Randall’s skull as it connected with the tree and watched him fall like a sack of stones to the dirt.
By this time, Colton had regained his feet and was charging the boo hag from behind, stake raised high above his head. The hag’s arm reached back impossibly far, a double-jointed nightmare, and red fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife embedded in its back. Pulling the blade free, it pivoted and lashed out as Colton’s arm came down in a killing blow. Parrying the stake with the knife, the hag’s free hand curled into a fist and caught Colton beneath the jaw. The blow sent the hunter reeling to the ground, and the stake skittered away from his hand. Seeing an opening, the hag swung the knife down, blade heading straight for Colton’s chest.
Dallas was roughly knocked aside as Aletia crashed past. Another blade sped from her hand and impaled the boo hag’s forearm, causing it to drop the knife. Instead of stabbing Colton straight through the heart, its empty hand thumped him hard on the sternum.
“Hands off, puta,” Aletia growled while freeing her own stake from her belt. The two squared off, Aletia clad in black and moving like a panther, the boo hag’s glistening muscles rippling like a collection of bloody garter snakes.
After ripping the new blade free from its forearm, the hag bent to pick up the fallen knife. Feinting with both blades, it danced around Aletia and knocked aside the woman’s thrusts. The hag’s own slashes and stabs came from every direction. Aletia moved like David Carradine’s hot sister but couldn’t gain the upper hand. Dallas watched in horror, knowing that at any moment, one of the hag’s blades would score a hit.
As that terrible thought rolled through his brain, a glint of light slashed across Tia’s stomach. Her tight black shirt split open, exposing a bright line of red.
Whatever thread had been holding Dallas in thrall snapped when he saw Aletia crumple, drop her stake, and grab her lacerated stomach. With an infuriated roar, he charged toward the battle.
“Now you done it!” he yelled
. “You done poked the bear and got it all riled up. You think you can jump out all freaky and skinless and start roughing up my friends, you got another thing coming.”
Swinging a fist like a wrecking ball, Dallas connected with the hag’s face. A second punch caught it solidly in the gut, lifted it off its feet, and sent it stumbling backward.
“Listen up, haggy thing. You done poked the bear. And this bear, he’s like a bear that ain’t had enough to eat. He’s real ornery-like, and he’s got these claws and these teeth and he’s all sorts of pissed. You poke that bear, you’re gonna end up nothing but a pile of shit in the woods, ‘cause this bear, he’s gonna rip you apart and eat you up and shit you out. You hear me? This bear’s gonna shit you out right here in the woods. This bear’s gonna shit in the woods!” Closing the distance, he started firing off more punches and swings at the hag, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of slimy mucus coating his fists.
“What are you doing?” the hag hissed at him, retreating from his furious attacks. “You’d seriously go after one of your own?”
“One of my own? You sure as hell ain’t from Wisconsin,” Dallas shot back. “Something as ugly as you has to be from Minnesota.”
The hag shook its head, scattering droplets of mucus in a halo. “What’s this world coming to? Serves me right, thinking a little time in the woods would make for a nice vacation. Hunters I can deal with, but now I have to worry about one of my own? It’s enough to break a girl’s...”
A wooden stake exploded through the hag’s chest. Colton wrapped his arm around its neck and cut off its wind, so its scream was just a hoarse rattle that faded to a wheeze, then a sputtering cough. Dallas dropped his fists and watched a slow burn start around the stake and work its way outward.
Like Herb, his rapidly cooling mind thought. Thing’s gonna burn from the inside out, just like Herby.
Colton released the boo hag and yanked the stake out, letting it drop to its knees and fall on its side. Lidless eyes stared up at Dallas, mouth wide in shock and pain.
“Why? You’re one of…” it gasped. “One of…”
The rest of its intended words came out as puffs of ash. The fire that had started in its chest worked its way out along the arms and legs, blackening the exposed muscles, popping the tendons, and reducing bones to charred sticks which collapsed into dust. The head was the last to smolder away, leaving two bright orbs staring straight at Dallas before they finally blackened to ash.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sounds were the various pained gasps and grunts from the injured group until Colton limped over, placed a hand on Dallas’s shoulder, and said, “It’s official. You’re one of the Society, and that’s a fact.”
Chapter 18
Dallas couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this drunk. Dallas was also having trouble remembering where he was, what he’d done with his favorite beer koozie, and if his name was actually Dallas, or if it was Donny, or maybe Deluco. Deluco sounded nice.
“I’m Deluco! Buffted up some boo rag! Whisha stake. Stake and bake! Hooah!” he cried out in answer. At least, he thought he was answering. Didn’t someone ask a question?
A hand tousled his hair. In response, his head swung loosely on the soft noodle someone had replaced his neck with. It lolled around and pointed his face at the person the hand was attached to. Squinting for good measure, Dallas took in a gorgeous, smiling face. Dark hair framed smooth cheeks, full lips, and two dangerous eyes that looked into his from beneath long lashes.
“Damn. You’re hot,” he observed.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Dallas,” Aletia replied. “You’re also muy, muy drunk. Maybe you should slow down, so we can keep this party going back at your place.”
His place. He had one of those. Damn straight, he did.
“I got one’a those!” he crowed. “A place,” he clarified. With a conspiratorial wink, he whispered loudly, “I got one.” Nodding, he tried to look into those endless eyes, but his head was too heavy. Much easier to stare at the gorgeous cleavage. Much, much easier.
“Boobs,” he reasoned, quite proud of himself for making that connection.
They’d been at Weasel’s for about two hours, and every minute had been occupied with drinking. After quickly cleaning up around the campsite, they’d hustled back to their waiting vehicles and made a hasty getaway. Despite the collection of cuts and bruises, the group was in high spirits. The new recruit was barely out of training and had already knocked off a boo hag. It was time to celebrate.
“You did well today, Dallas,” Colton said, words accompanying another pour of whiskey into Dallas’s well-used shot glass. “Most folks, they see something like what you saw, they just wet themselves and run, but not you. You were meant for this, Dallas.”
“Gundamn herosh!” Dallas thumped his chest, forgetting his hand was holding the shot glass and soaking his shirt with a fresh layer of Wild Turkey.
“Monshters ‘n doo gages ‘n I shtake ‘em with a shtake. Don’t take no shift. Na’ me! Not from no hoo dag or vampers. Not from no one. Not from Herby. Not from my besht friend Herby. I shtake ‘em and they get all burned up and Loish hates me.”
Dallas’s head dropped for a moment. Suddenly, it shot up, and he gave voice to a wordless cry. Maybe he was wailing at the ceiling, maybe at the night sky beyond, maybe even at the very heavens where some cruel god turned bowling line cooks into blood sucking monsters so their best friends had to kill them.
“Gundamns herosh Trapperswill!” he yelled and slapped the bar hard. The force knocked him off his stool to the wooden floor, and everything went dark.
Chapter 19
Waking was a sudden thing. Dallas sat up, surprised to find himself in his bed and even more surprised to discover he wasn’t the least bit hung over. He rummaged his brain for some clue as to how he got home. When no easy answers presented themselves, he shrugged and climbed out of bed. He had to pee something fierce, so he jogged down the stairs, through the house, and out the sliding door to his wooded back yard. Sniffing as he trotted back and forth, he settled on a nice maple, opened his boxer fly, and let loose a long stream.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh,” he sighed with relief, savoring the dual sensations of the crisp autumn air and a rapidly emptying bladder. The sun was just starting to announce the impending debut of a new day, and the stars were taking their bows in anticipation of leaving the stage. All in all, it was a fine morning.
Finishing his business, he trotted back into the house and rummaged through his fridge.
“No, no, no,” he muttered, pushing aside cans of beer, half-empty jars of mustard and mayo, and a squeeze bottle of ketchup. “Where’s the meat? C’mon, there’s gotta be some decent chow in here.”
The fridge was decidedly lacking in anything worthy of eating. Dallas had just started to concoct a plan to head back outside and track down a rabbit or maybe a deer when his brain came skidding to a halt.
“Wait a sec, what the hell am I doing?” he asked out loud. The kitchen appliances didn’t have a response and sat in quiet judgment.
Must still be a little drunk after all, he reasoned. I can’t chase deer through the woods in my undies.
Climbing the stairs back to his bedroom, he pulled on a pair of socks, jeans, a tee shirt, and heavy flannel. Strapping on a wide leather belt, he checked himself in the mirrored closet door.
Looking good, Dal, he thought. Those deer will never know what hit ‘em. Ready to hunt, a flushing toilet caused him to spin toward the bathroom and crouch down in surprise.
The door opened, and out stepped Aletia. For a moment, he forgot everything, including his hunger, how to breathe, and how to make sure his heart continued to beat. For a moment, he was simply overwhelmed by the vision standing casually in the bathroom doorway.
“Buenos días,” she said.
A neuron fired somewhere in Dallas’s brain. It made its way along a neural pathway, one that seemed like it could eventually lead to his mouth, but there must�
��ve been a lot of traffic. After a few long moments, the neuron finally arrived at its destination and bumped into a few other neurons that triggered a response in the web of nerves intertwined with the muscles of his face. Dallas felt his cheeks twitch, tongue shift, and throat work, resulting in a deep, “Whoa.”
She was gorgeous. Absolutely, undeniably, without a doubt, one hundred percent gorgeous. And naked. Very, very naked.
“You weren’t thinking of slipping out on me, were you?” she asked, a thin layer of ice frosting her otherwise playful tone.
Deer, he thought. I was going to get a deer. That didn’t make a lick of sense though, so he decided to keep that tidbit to himself. Instead, he walked closer, drinking in every inch of her skin.
“Guess I was thinking of rustling up some grub, but suddenly I’ve got a different kind of hunger.”
Unbuttoning his recently buttoned shirt and pulling his tee shirt over his head, he wrapped up Aletia in his arms. “You okay with brunch instead of breakfast?”
Aletia’s hands started to work at his belt buckle.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 20
It had been a good day. After some morning recreational activities with Aletia, Dallas made a Get’n’Gobble run and returned to his place for brunch and a little after-brunch nooky. The sun was high in the sky when they finally deciding to find their clothes and hit up Bay City Bowlers for a beer and a couple of games. They rolled, drank, and made small talk about small things. All the while, Dallas watched each moment he spent with Aletia top the previous moment as the best moment of his entire life.
Sure, Aletia was beautiful. He also knew from recent experience that she was a pint full of tough with a kick-ass chaser, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. She knew the engine displacement of damn near every Chevy, Ford and Dodge truck on the road, and gave him a very hands-on explanation of why she preferred a shaft-driven motorcycle over a chain drive. The girl was sharp too, with a wit that struck like the crack of a whip. Even more alluring was the fact that she was worldly. Most of the girls Dallas had been with were anything but. The edges of their maps barely extended past the best dive bars with mechanical bulls and two-for-one Jell-O shots.
Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman Page 11