by John Conroe
Stumbling out of the door, he completely failed to notice us as he dragged his stuff in the direction of the beach. A male voice called to him from the cabin’s interior.
“Gordon, did you grab the lunch cooler?”
“Yes Mitch,” he called back, without looking up. As he continued to haul his stuff toward one of the canoes another man appeared in the door to cabin two. Mitch was taller, also probably a few years younger than Gordon and dressed neatly in cargo shorts, a light weight sun-blocking shirt and a fly fishing vest with hiking boots on his feet. He was slimmer than Gordon, in obviously good shape. He also noticed us immediately. Like everyone else he froze in place for a second, but came to life when I tossed another hot dog to Awasos.
“Hello there,” he said.
“Howdy, looks like a good day for fishing,” I replied, nodding at his friend who was attempting to get their stuff into the canoe.
Mitch headed over, studying us curiously as he came. The cheeseburgers were done so I started to spatula them onto the open buns I had laid out.
“You want both mayo and ketchup?” I asked my furry friend while Mitch closed the distance between us. Awasos nose butted me in response which meant yes.
“That’s a wolf,” Mitch stated as he got closer.
“Hybrid,” I answered, “His father was a wolf.”
“What was the mother?” he asked, awe in his voice as he got close enough to really understand the size of the beast that was impatiently waiting for his burgers.
“Kodiak bear,” I replied. “I’m Chris, this is Awasos.”
“I’m Mitch, that’s Gordon,” he said, pointing at his friend who had finally seen us and was now headed our way. “He must weigh close to two hundred?”
Weres and vampires have denser muscles and bones than humans, another effect of the virus’s that create them. Awasos , in wolf form, weighed much more than a regular wolf his size would weigh.
“A bit more than that, actually,” I answered. Gordon arrived at our location and introductions were made. Both men had trouble taking their eyes off my furry friend.
I started to hand burgers to Awasos, who carefully took them from my hand, consuming each in a couple snaps of his jaws. The two men were fascinated, studying him in a professorial/scientific type way.
“Hybridization can result in larger offspring than either parent,” Gordon noted, reinforcing the academic image I was getting.
“Were the parents big?” Mitch asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said, thinking of the Fenris wolf and the Kodiak female that had birthed Awasos.
“You guys scientists or professors, or something?” I asked, biting into my own burger.
“That obvious?” Mitch laughed. Of the two, he definitely had the better social skills. “I teach biology and zoology at the University of Michigan, Gordon teaches entomology.”
“That explains the butterfly net,” I said, understanding that Gordon would probably rather catch bugs than trout.
They both laughed at that. Neither showed an inclination to try and pat Awasos which almost everyone who met him wanted to do.
For his part, Awaso was more interested in the flow of burgers from my hand to his mouth.
“So is this like a famous trout pond or something?” I asked.
Mitch laughed, looking a bit chagrined. “No, but the Boklunds tell me that there are trout in it. I think Gordon will have more luck than I.”
Gordon nodded. “I think I may have seen a Somatochlora hineana on the pond yesterday,” he said excitedly.
I must have looked puzzled because Mitch explained. “ Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly. Very rare, endangered.”
“Yes, yes, yes. A large dark dragonfly with emerald eyes and two yellow stripes oblique on the thorax,” Gordon said, seriously.
“Is that why you guys came here? Hunting dragonflies?” I asked.
They exchanged a glance and I realized something new about them. They were a couple. I hadn’t seen that coming. My gay-dar isn’t very well developed; it generally takes me a while to figure out what some people notice in a glance.
“No, the fishing and the insect collecting are side interests,” Mitch said, after coming to some decision.
“Our real hobby is cryptozoology,” Gordon said in a rush. They both watched to gauge my reaction.
“Oh, like Bigfoot and Loch Ness and the Tasmanian Tiger,” I said, surprised.
“Well, yes, basically. You see, we look for unknown species of animals. Legends and sightings, while colorful and often graphic, usually have some grain of truth buried deep inside them. Lake monsters, like Loch Ness or New York’s Champ, are probably some kind of eel that hasn’t been documented. There are theories that Bigfoot is an extraordinarily intelligent and large great ape,” Gordon lectured.
“So what’s around here? Bigfoot?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“There have been reports over the years, but no, we’re investigating reports of Michigan’s Dogman,” Mitch said, with just a trace of sheepishness.
“Oh, right, I’ve heard of that one. Wasn’t there a show about American Werewolves or something. The Beast of Bray Road and all that?”
“That’s right. Michigan has had all kinds of sightings, but there have been a couple of recent ones right here at this resort!” Gordon answered. He was totally into his passion, completely serious about investigating cryptids, but Mitch seemed to be slightly more sensitive to how this hobby might be perceived.
“That’s why my pal here caught your eye?” I asked.
Mitch laughed. “Chris, Awasos here would catch any eye, but yes, he is an amazing specimen. Do you think we could cast some of his tracks?”
They really didn’t need my permission, all they had to do was wait till Awasos left tracks in the sand at the beach, but it was nice of them to ask.
“What do you say pal? Can we leave them some good tracks?” I asked the canine in question.
He finished off the current burger, his fifth I think, then trotted over to the sandy shore of the pond in front of us. He pounded into the soft grains, leaving four perfect tracks, then stepped deliberately in a walking pattern for five or six feet.
Mitch and Gordon watched the performance incredulously.
“I’d say that’s a yes. He left you a direct register set when he stepped into his own tracks, so you can get stride length then compare to his actual hip-to-shoulder ratio,” I added.
“Are you a crypto tracker too, Chris?” Mitch asked, suddenly suspicious.
I laughed. “No, I’ve mostly been a criminal or lost person tracker, but I do track regular animals from time to time.”
“Oh, you a cop?” Gordon asked.
“Used to be, then a consultant to Homeland Security. Now I work for a private corporation, troubleshooting and security work.” I said.
“That was one of the most amazing displays of intelligence in a canine that I’ve ever seen,” Mitch said, still staring at Awasos.
“Yeah, he’s a smart one alright. He’ll con me out of my burgers if I don’t watch him,” I said, hurrying to eat my second as Awasos scarfed his sixth.
“His coloration is unusual,” Gordon noted.
Awasos looks almost like someone laid a dark brown blanket turned to form a diamond on top of a wheat-colored wolf. The point of one corner of the brown ‘blanket’ comes up over the top of his skull to end just above and between his eyes. The other end of the diamond ends at his tail. Addition brown points come down the top of each leg in a very uniform pattern. It looks very, very similar to the coloration of my Damnedthing friend Okwari, who had died protecting me and then, I believe, may have been reborn as Awasos.
“Yes, it is somewhat unusual, but then he’s a very unique fellow,” I said, starting my third burger.
“Are burgers good for him?” Mitch asked.
“Ya know I told him the same thing….burgers would clog his arteries. He wasn’t interested,” I joked. “Honestly, his vet says it’s okay in m
oderation, so when we’re on vacation we live a little.”
“Just a man and his dog…er..wolf-dog,” Mitch laughed.
Actually, were-bear-wolf, I thought to myself.
“Man, wife and wolf-dog,” I corrected.
“Oh?”
“Yes, Tanya did most of the driving to get here, right through the night, so she’s taking a nap. You’ll meet her later I should think,” I said.
“Are burgers good for you?” Gordon asked, watching me pick up my fourth.
“Well it goes back to that live it up on vacation bit. I also have a pretty fast metabolism,” I said.
“Well you’re not overweight,” Mitch said, eyeing me in a way that suddenly made me self-conscious.
“Yeah he reminds me of Jake from the cabin next door….always eating,” Gordon said.
“Oh yeah?” I questioned.
“Two brothers…here to hunt spring turkey from the way they tell it,” Mitch explained. “But come to think of it they never seem to bring any turkeys back with them. Anyway, Jake is the younger brother and he’s still got that youthful metabolism that lets him eat anything. That will go away someday, ya know?”
Awasos got tired of looking at my two remaining burgers, his being all gone. With a dart of his head, he twisted his jaws to snap up one of the burgers. I beat him to it, grabbing both of them.
“Whoa! You’re fast!” Gordon said, his eyes large.
“It’s a game we play” I said, smirking at Awasos, then relenting and tossing him my sixth burger, keeping the fifth in my other hand. “That’s it though, you’re all done Mister.”
He scarfed down the bundle of bread, meat and cheese, then laydown with his head on his front feet.
“Gordon, we better get out on the pond if we’re going to catch that dragonfly. They’re most active during the heat of the day and all,” Mitch said. It was odd to hear my last name as someone else’s first.
His shorter, older partner gave me a quick little wave goodbye and headed in a bee-line for the canoe. Mitch shook his head at Gordon’s lack of social graces and thanked me and Awasos for such an interesting meeting, then followed his friend.
They paddled out onto the pond with more skill than I would have thought, Mitch guiding the canoe from the back while Gordon looked everywhere and anywhere for his prized dragonfly.
The day had warmed to the mid-seventies, and I found myself worried about the remaining uncooked food. There isn’t a bacteria currently in existence that can harm me, not after the V squared virus has had its way with my physiology, but old habits die hard and no one really wants to eat spoiled hamburger, even if it’s harmless. So I hauled the leftovers inside to the fridge.
Chapter 10
Awasos was lying by the firepit gnawing one of his truck tire chew toys. Lydia had them custom made in a recycling center from steel belted tractor trailer tires. Each tire would make a dozen of the rolled and twisted chews, which was good, because despite their awful smell, Awasos loved to tear them to shreds and each one only lasted an hour or so. Black chunks of rubber were strewn about the cabin site like an interstate blowout.
I was just coming back outside when I heard the screen door from Billy’s cabin slam. Turning I found a man in jeans and a polo shirt headed our way. He looked close to forty years old, but his thirties hadn’t been kind to him. His hair was thinning and the beginnings of a paunch was forming on what had, at one time, been an athletic frame. He sucked on a cigarette as he purposely headed toward us, his body language aggressive.
He came right up to about ten feet away, stopping suddenly when he spotted Awasos lying on the ground on the other side of the cider block fire pit. Jabbing one hand in my pal’s direction he opened his mouth and pissed me off.
“Keep that thing and yourself away from my wife and kid!” he spit out. “If you can’t, for any reason, I will,” he added, raising his untucked polo shirt to reveal the butt of a snub revolver. Part of my mind automatically catalogued it as a Ruger SP101, .357 magnum.
The rest of my mind was suddenly seeing red.
“Listen, mister, Awasos here wouldn’t harm your kid or your wife if they were jumping up and down on his tail. You on the other hand, he doesn’t like at all!” I replied in a quiet voice that wasn’t quite my own. He looked at Awasos and caught the flash of lava red that rolled through the extremely alert eyes of the giant wolf.
He stepped back involuntarily, his right hand touching the butt of his gun.
“Billy seems like a good kid, and I get the whole protective dad thing, but I still get the feeling that you’re a giant douche bag. But for Billy’s sake I’ll give you a little advice…shooting Awasos always pisses him off, and frankly, it sends me right through the roof!” I said, voice still pitched low. The God Tear necklace around my neck warmed in warning at my anger.
“Chris, what’s up?” a soft silky voice said from the door to our cabin. Tanya stood framed in the doorway, wearing one of my long dark tee shirts and nothing else. Even freshly woken her appearance stunned our vistor.
“Just an asshole threatening to shoot Awasos,” I said.
Suddenly she was wide awake and full vampire, her blue eyes staring through Billy’s father like laser beams. She went from sleepy centerfold to supernatural killing machine in less than an eyeblink, a fact which registered deep in the primitive survival center of his human brain.
“That would be….ill advised,” she said, her voice pitched in a tone I recognized as part of her vocal talent.
He backed off three quick and awkward steps, driven by an unconscious impulse to get away. The point where his conscious mind asserted itself was crystal clear to any observer, as he stumbled to a sudden stop, halting his panicked retreat. He frowned and his fear partially changed to anger. “This isn’t over,” he said, storming off.
I knew his type. Small town athlete grows up to become small town car dealer who never grows up to being a father and lives an angry life of self-destruction. He likely drank a lot, cheated on his wife and ignored his kid. Almost a cliché if it wasn’t for the fact that every town had at least one of him.
“Making new friends?” my vampire said, still framed in the doorway but back to looking like my personal gift from God.
I got up and headed toward the cabin. Billy’s dad reached his own place, slamming the door and yelling at his family. Arms circling her lithe body I kissed her deeply. Another door slam at cabin one broke our kiss. Asshole was now headed toward the main lodge.
“I’m hungry, but I think we better put off my dinner. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we’re going to get a visit from management,” Tanya said.
“Hey I did make friends with the guys in the canoe,” I said, defensively, waving in the direction of the pond.
“I know, I heard. Two out of three is a big improvement,” she said with a sly laugh.
***
Garth Boklund made his way to our cabin, reluctance written on every part of him. He was followed closely by Billy’s dad.
“Ah, Chris, Tanya. Mr. Cleveland here has told us that you threatened him and his family. You’ll understand that we can’t have that,” the big blond said when he got close.
“Did Mr. Cleveland tell you that he flashed a gun at us? Did he tell you that Awasos never left our cabin?”
“Ah no.. he didn’t” Garth started, but was interrupted by Cleveland.
“That’s a fucking lie! I don’t have a gun on me!” he shouted, pulling up his shirt to show an absence of weapons. His stomach was flabby.
“Garth, we’ve been minding our own business since we got here. His son, Billy introduced himself earlier but never came near Awasos. Mr. Cleveland here stormed up a few minutes ago, threatened to shoot our dog and us if we didn’t stay away from his family. His gun is probably in his cabin,” I answered.
Garth turned and looked at Cleveland with raised eyebrows. “You got a gun in your cabin Mr. Cleveland?”
“What I have or don’t have in my cabin is none o
f your damn business! What is your business is this wild animal running loose in your resort!” Cleveland snarled.
“We can’t have dogs threatening people, Chris,” Garth said, apologetically.
Tanya spoke up from her seat at the picnic table. “Mr. Boklund, would you be so kind as to call the local sheriff. We need to file a complaint about a threat with a deadly weapon. What kind of gun was it Chris?” she asked.