Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves

by Visada, J. L. M.

  “You don’t play fair.” He started walking back towards his wife unbuttoning his sheriff’s uniform.

  Sarah laughed and pushed him to the door, “Silly, you have work to do. I’ll be home when you get back, and the pot roast will keep.”

  Colton whimpered as she pushed him out the front door. “This better not be a prank.”

  Sarah leaned down and kissed her husband, “I’m just glad that after all these years, you still think I’m attractive.”

  Colton looked at his wife like she was crazy. “Woman, have you seen yourself? Who wouldn’t think you were sexy as hell? I’m just amazed you’re still married to me.”

  Sarah’s expression changed into one of playful cockiness, “Well that’s me…just amazing.”

  Damn right. A thirty-six year old blond haired, blue eyed woman that cooks like Martha Stewart, looks like Katherine Heigl, and humps like I’ve got the antidote. Who wouldn’t think that’s amazing? I mean she’s six foot a hundred and fifteen pounds soaking wet, funny, smarter than I’ll ever be, cooks like a chef, and breasts….oh sweet baby Jesus those breasts. Plus all the money she makes writing those romance novels. She makes more off one of her books than I make in ten years. So smart, funny, sexy, and rich. The fact that she married a forty-six year old 4’7” redheaded fat dude with pasty white skin and so many freckles that you just want to play connect the dots is just proof that there is always room for a little comedy relief in God’s plan…and the fact she uses me to “research” the sexy stuff is pretty cool too. I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to question it. Colton shook his head and laughed as he walked to his police cruiser.

  It was a 2006 Ford Explorer. Almost his entire force was Ford Explorers. Publicly he’d say it was to get down the dirt roads safely. It was true enough, there were so many dirt roads and backwater areas that he needed the four wheel drive to get around. Privately it was because he believed anything that wasn’t a Ford was complete crap. He turned the key, turned up the stereo. It was the one thing he snuck in the budget for himself and his men that you could call a luxury if you wanted to. Otherwise, he was extremely frugal with the city budget. They only got new uniforms when their old ones looked really worn out, and he was careful not to spend on anything that typically wasn’t absolutely necessary. Colton wouldn’t have gotten the radio except he had to drive a lot to get around Livingston Parish, and sometimes the only thing that got him through the endless days of dealing with his more “unique” citizens was the kickass stereo he had installed in each of the Ford Explorers. It was either the stereo, or a new computer in the office. Since none of his men could operate a computer to save their lives, tunes seemed a much better use of money. He twisted the volume until Alice Cooper was loud enough to jam to before heading to his old friend’s home.

  Bobby was waiting on his porch when Colton turned into his driveway. Bobby ran up to the sheriff carrying his shotgun. His eyes were already blackened, and a band-aid ran across the bridge of his slightly bent nose. His clothes still had blood on them, and from the blood’s placement Colton was pretty sure it came from the man’s broken nose.

  Bobby smiled in relief, “Thank God you’re here.”

  “Where do you think you’re going with that?” Colton pointed down at the shotgun.

  “I am not going back there without Lucy.” Bobby clutched at his shotgun like a teddy bear.

  Colton thought about arguing, but then remembered how stubborn his friend was, “Okay, but you better not shoot anything unless I say so.”

  Bobby jumped into the passenger side and buckled up. He was careful to keep “Lucy” ready for action. Colton watched with irritation as the man started putting a few of his ex-wife’s rings down the barrel of his shotgun.

  “What in the blue hell are you doing?” Colton asked.

  “Werewolf…I ain’t taking any chances.” Bobby fed his ex-wife’s wedding ring down the barrel.

  “It isn’t a werewolf. It’s just your overactive imagination.”

  “You keep saying that, but when we get there and he starts humping your leg like a Chihuahua…then let’s see what you say.”

  Colton shook his head and backed out, “To think I’m missing out on Sarah’s pot roast for this.”

  “Well afterwards we can still go to your house and have some pot roast.” Bobby said hopefully.

  “You do know if you shot somebody, and I can’t prove you did it in self-defense, then you’ll be in jail right?”

  “I think my busted nose and raccoon eyes ought to be enough proof of that. Besides, do you think I’d have called you if I thought I’d end up in jail?” Bobby pointed his friend in the right direction.

  “You have a lot more faith in my abilities than I do. You know the new district attorney doesn’t like me. The little rat bastard might just file on you to piss me off.” Colton said as he watched one of Sue’s necklaces slide down the barrel. “I can’t believe she just left all that here.”

  “Well it wasn’t like she planned on me catching her.”

  “Still, you’d think she’d have gotten something out of the divorce.”

  “She did…I promised not to put buckshot in her fat cheating ass as long as I never set eyes on her again.” Bobby laughed.

  “Very funny…but seriously, didn’t she get anything.”

  “What’s to get? Before I divorced her I suckered her into signing everything over into B.J.’s name. I might have been pissed, but I sure as shit wasn’t stupid.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “I told Sue it was a tax thing. So we signed the house over, both vehicles, everything in the house, and my business. Sue thought that by signing it to B.J. we’d be freeing up more cash, and keeping all the money safe in case something happened to me. After she signed all the papers I waited a couple weeks then gave her the divorce papers, and you remember how that went.”

  Colton laughed, “Yeah, I had to spend an hour convincing you to quit hiding in the bathroom from her.”

  “Can you blame me? It took four of your men to bring her down, and that one deputy of yours still walks funny.”

  “Yeah, you always did like the feisty ones.” Colton laughed, “So B.J. really went along with it?”

  “Hell yeah! Who do you think gave me the idea? Sue was a terrible wife, but she was a really shitty mother.”

  “I didn’t know she treated B.J. badly. Why didn’t either of you tell me?”

  “Well on my part it was pure terror. The woman scares the living crap out me when she gets angry. B.J. didn’t say anything because as her godfather…you’re a little too overprotective. She thought you might do something you’d regret if you found out.”

  “I’m not overprotective.”

  Bobby laughed, “Are you kidding me? You gave her prom date a breathalyzer before they left, and then gave him a lecture on statutory rape.”

  “He was twenty, and she was only seventeen!”

  “He…is your nephew, and she was going to be eighteen in two weeks.” Bobby laughed.

  “The law is the law.” Colton grumbled.

  “This comes from the man who was eighteen when his future wife was eight, and seventeen is an adult in this state. You can’t bullshit me into buying that crap.”

  “Not the same thing.” Colton said, and cringed inwardly at the thought.

  “Of course not…and you weren’t following B.J. either.” Bubba laughed.

  “That’s just silly. I’d never follow her around. That’s just crazy.”

  “Really? So it was just her imagination.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She got home and said that everywhere they went she saw this redneckmobile.”

  Colton snapped, “Fucking Cletus. I told him to stay far away and follow the GPS.”

  “GPS? Where did you get GPS?”

  Colton’s shoulders slumped, “One of the bait cars got wrecked a few weeks beforehand, I took the GPS off of it and talked Fran
k at the limo company to let me put it in the trunk of B.J.’s rental. I swear Cletus was supposed to stay out of sight.”

  “Wow…I mean all I can say is wow…and I thought I was overprotective. You do realize that what you did was probably illegal.” Bobby’s shoulders jumped up and down as he laughed.

  “Don’t even try to act like you’re mad. That boy fucked a goat. There’s no telling what he might have tried to do with B.J.”

  “I’m pretty sure he didn’t screw a goat.” Bobby winced as his broken nose ached from laughter.

  “I found him passed out drunk, with his pants around his ankles, and handcuffed to a goat. What else could he have been doing?”

  Bobby howled with laughter. “And he was wearing a frilly red thong.”

  Colton slammed on the brakes, “How’d you know that?”

  “B.J. found out Colby was cheating on her with Sally Mae, and wanted to teach him a lesson.” Bobby was wheezing with laughter, “She talked some of his friends into taking him out drinking. Then when he was passed out they brought him home and called us. Well you can guess the rest.”

  Colton roared with laughter, “That boy had no clue. He just kept sputtering about how he was at home and then woke up with the goat.”

  “So he still hasn’t figured out what happened?”

  “The dumb sunnovabitch has started saying aliens abducted him. So you two really handcuffed him to a goat, and then put those panties on him?”

  “Well we handcuffed him, but he was already wearing the panties.”

  “Really?”

  Bobby nodded, “Yeah, B.J. was pissed. She couldn’t figure out when he stole them from her.”

  Colton stopped laughing, “She shouldn’t be wearing those kinds of things. She’s just a kid.”

  “B.J. was twenty, and I don’t know about you, but I remember twenty year old women back in my day wearing panties like that.”

  “Can we please stop talking about my goddaughters panties…you’re going to give me an ulcer.” Colton grumbled.

  Chapter Ten

  Tater stepped off the boat and hopped in the truck. He practically punched the stereo when Motorhead blasted through the speakers. The cd changer cycled, and he began searching until he found something he liked. Some sugary pop songs started playing over the radio as the wheels started spinning, and the pickup sped off so Tater could find some medical help. The parasite was already affecting his mind. Tater’s foot was pressing down on the pedal a little harder every second. Soon he was going eighty miles an hour down a dirt road that wouldn’t be safe for someone to drive thirty miles an hour on.

  Somehow he kept it on the road long enough to find a paved street. Tires squealed as he whipped the wheel back and forth to stay on the road. In the distance, a gas station glowed in the night, and Tater stomped the gas to get to the gas station as fast as possible. The pickup closed the distance in a few short moments. Tires squealed as the brakes locked up, and Tater slid the pickup sideways into three parking places next to the building.

  Tater slid out of the truck and stomped his way towards the gas station. He didn’t even turn off the pickup. The radio was still blasting songs out at ear splitting levels about how some girl’s love was all the effeminately metrosexual boy band would ever need. His ankle didn’t hurt, in fact he was only vaguely aware of his body at all. It was more like he was aware of sensations, but not actually feeling them. Under normal circumstances he’d have probably noticed this, and thought it very odd, but the parasite was already affecting his mind. He was already beginning to get more aggressive. Hostility was like an undercurrent that flowed just under the surface of his skin, and it was getting stronger every second. Tater neared the door, and a chubby man edged forward in his rusty wheelchair to ask Tater for a few dollars.

  “Can I bother you sir? I just need a few bucks to get gas so I can get to my wife. I wouldn’t ask this, but she’s in the hospital and…I’m desperate. I ain’t held a job since I got back from the war. Nobody wants to hire me.” The man gestured down to the blanket covering his lap.

  Tater gave the man a hard look. He was just barely twenty years old. His hands were soft and gentle. He looked a little closer and realized the dirt only covered a few places. His forehead was dirty, but his hair was clean. Anger pulsed behind Tater’s eyes, “What war?”

  “What?”

  “What war did you fight in?”

  “Vietnam.” The man answered without even a hint that he might be kidding.

  “You lost your legs in ‘Nam?” Tater asked. His voice was calm, but he could already feel the thumping in his neck from every heartbeat.

  “Yeah.”

  “So you fought in ‘Nam…was it nine eleven that had you sign up, or the Alamo?”

  “Alamo?” The man was completely clueless.

  “Yeah…you know the saying. We will never forget…to remember the Alamo.”

  There was a spark of vague recognition, “Yeah…and it’s good to see patriots like yourself helping out a war vet like me. God bless you sir.”

  “Yeah sure, but not in front of the building, let’s go around the side so nobody calls the cops on you and I’ll give you a few dollars.” The man wheeled around the corner to follow Tater. As soon as they were out of sight Tater asked, “What branch of service were you in?”

  “Branch of service…” The man seemed a little lost.

  “Oh I understand if you don’t like to talk about it. I have some friends that fought in the war. Sometimes they get together and relive all the grim and bloody warfare they experienced fighting the Horde, and the Covenant. Some days I think it’s a miracle they survived all the battles with the Sith, and…well you remember what it was like storming Narnia against those fucking Daleks. Oh well I guess you can’t really expect anything else. I mean they’ve all been fighting in that country since…well forever. I can’t believe they actually went there to fight. I mean who even knows where Sésamo Calle is? Can you tell me how to get…how to get to Sésamo Calle?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You don’t? I thought you were military?”

  “I-I am. I mean…I mean…I mean they just sort of dropped us down in there.”

  “Yeah, my buddy said the same thing. Say, what’s your name?” Tater grinned as he watched the man eyeing every dollar he pulled out.

  “Tommy Green.”

  “Well Tommy, I just can’t stand to see a good patriotic man suffering out here when they should be at the hospital with their wife. What did you say her name was?” Tater stopped with his fingers on a twenty.

  “J-Janet…her name is Janet, and God bless you sir.”

  “Oh of course, I’d do anything for a former soldier that helped defend us against the likes of the Cylons. Frankly anybody that had to stare down a few dozen T-800’s and T-850’s deserves my respect. I mean sure they’re old, made in Austria, and sound funny, but I sure wouldn’t want to stand toe to toe with one.”

  “Yeah...I was pretty scared. It got hairy back then. Cost me my legs, and I’m pretty upset about that, but thank the good lord Jesus that you came along to help me out, and it sounds like you really know your military…stuff.” Tommy said as his eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of another twenty slipping out of the wallet.

  “Yeah, I know a few guys that fought. We get together some time and they talk about their old war stories. I know this one guy that was in the air force. Hell of a pilot. He likes to talk about all the time they spent playing volleyball, but if you get a margarita in him…shit. The man will tell you about his buddy Goose, and this other guy Iceman. I mean he really liked to push the envelope back then.”

  “What happened to him?” Tommy asked with fake interest.

  “Oh you know, a little of this, and a little of that. He became a race car driver for a bit, then when he got a little older he became a sports agent. The last I heard he was some kind of law enforcement officer. The dude was so good he could actually catch you before you committed th
e crime. How badass is that?”

  “Wow…it sounds like your friends are some damn good soldiers.” Tommy asked, not that he really cared. He was only interested in Tater’s open wallet.

  “Yeah, I know this one guy that worked this black ops mission. He helped overthrow this evil dictator.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah, he had to fight his way into these fortresses where they were holding these women hostages. He originally went there just to rescue this one chick, but the problem is he didn’t know where she was. So he had to break into all eight of the fortresses, and wouldn’t you know it…the very last one is the one the girl was being held in. What are the odds?”

  “Wow, he sounds like a badass…is he still in the military?”

  “No, he retired and went back to being a plumber with his brother.”

  “No shit?” Tommy was boring a hold into Tater’s wallet with his eyes.

  “No shit. Can I ask you a question?”

  Tommy nodded, “Sure.”

  “Do you really not know I’m yanking your chain, or are you just trying to humor my crazy bullshit?”

  “What?” Tommy looked up into Tater’s eyes.

  “Sésamo Calle…Sesame Street asshole!” Tater kicked the wheelchair over, and Tommy was sent sprawling onto the concrete. “What the fuck! You have legs?”

  “I tried this the easy way, now we do it the Tommy way.” He stood up on his two very healthy legs, and as if to make a big show of it, he pulled out a huge knife. “Now hand over the money and I’ll only mess you up a little.

  Tater leapt at the beggar, and Tommy jammed the knife right into his stomach. Tater stepped back, and then looked down. Blood was running down over his bellybutton and then down onto his pants. Tommy didn’t hesitate, and stabbed Tater two more times; once in the side, and once in the chest. The knife wound to the stomach startled Tater, the one to the side still caught him by surprise, but by the third time Tater was laughing, “It tickles a little.”

  Tommy kept stabbing Tater, and Tater just walked forward laughing, “This is kind of cool. Can you shave a little fat off my ass? I wanna look good for summer.”