*Click*
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh that’s so sad.” Polly cried. “That poor baby…and her mommy.”
“Yeah, it just breaks my heart.” Gary said sympathetically. “If you kids want I can always go back to telling those old horror stories your camp counselor was telling.”
The kids groaned, and begged for the man to continue. Even Ashley was begging, “Come on, do you know how many times I have to hear the hook hand story? I’d do anything to just hear something different.” Then she pressed up against the older man, “I mean it. I’d do anything.”
A huge grin spread across the older man’s face. “I’ll have to remember that for later.” He winked at the young woman then lit himself a cigarette. He took a few drags on it, and then looked out into the woods. “Well, look who it is…DID YOU WIPE?”
“Yes Daddy!” John responded. His large body came lumbering out of the tree line.
“Where’s Marvin?” Ashley asked.
John stopped moving and stared blankly at the pretty little camp counselor. Then, as if someone finally flipped on a switch, his whole body jerked and he grunted, “He go back to camp…making phone calls.”
“Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll stay away long enough for us to finish the story?” Ryan said, and all the other teenagers quickly began nodding in support.
“Uncle Gary?” A young blonde girl, probably no older than twelve or thirteen raised her hand. “I need to go back to the restrooms.”
“Restrooms? We had home for poo?” John asked.
“Well yeah.” The little girl answered. “Back at Camp Holiness. There’s a boys and a girls restroom.”
“No fair! I made stinky in the woods.” John pouted.
“Oh don’t be a baby. You’d have had to go anyway if they weren’t here.” Gary said matter-of-factly.
“Pinecones hurt.” John grumbled, and the kids burst into nervous laughter.
“You don’t wipe with a pine cone. You use leaves. Remember…leaves good, pine cone bad.” Gary grinned.
“Leaves good, pine cone bad…” John grinned back, “and dead squirrel?”
“Is disturbing as hell.” Gary laughed. Some of the kids started gagging, “He’s just kidding. My boy made a joke. Didn’t you son?”
“Ha-ha, I made a funny.” John bounced up and down, his stomach jiggling with laughter.
The kids started laughing. Some of it was genuine, but most of it was a sympathy laugh because they were all raised to respect the mentally handicapped. Years of being taught to respect people with differences, and being discouraged from making fun of anyone made it practically impossible for them to laugh at the mentally challenged obese man. They could laugh with him, but not at him. They wanted to. He was a chubby, hyper-enthusiastic, and very clumsy looking man. By his expression it was clear that the wheels were turning, but the hamster was dead.
“I still need to go back to the restroom.” The girl said.
“Well I suppose that we can go back together.” Ashley said sadly.
“No…it’s okay. My boy will go back with them. Then they can do whatever they got to do, and then come back if they want, or maybe they all would rather stay back at their cabins. Boy! You follow them back to their cabins, and then if any want to come back you walk them back. I want you to go straight there and straight back. No wandering…do you understand?” Gary asked.
“Yes Daddy.” John giggled and hopped up and down while waiting on the kids that needed to go. The kids started walking down the dirt path single file, and the fat man followed them. They barely went ten feet when the mentally handicapped man started singing “My Ding-a-Ling” by Chuck Berry. His voice was off key, and it got worse as he kept singing it. They all kept marching off into the darkness, his voice grew fainter, and more out of tune.
The ten kids left stared off into the darkness uncomfortably. Several of them wanted to point say something…anything, but they were afraid they’d get in trouble for pointing out the wrongness of what the man was singing. They were all afraid people would say they were criticizing the man for being retarded, and not because of what he was doing. So instead they just stared nervously into the dark, and hoped someone else would say something.
“My boy…I try and teach him not to sing that, but he just can’t help himself. Oh well, at least it wasn’t the one about the lapdance being better when the stripper is crying. That song just irritates the shit out of me.” Gary laughed, and the kids relaxed a little. They all assumed that if John’s father didn’t think anything was wrong, then why should they.
“Are you sure that it’s okay to let him walk them there and back?” Ashley asked.
Gary wrapped pulled the young blonde a little closer, “Trust me. My boy might be retarded, but he does what he’s told. He’ll take those kids back to your camp, and he’ll bring them back. Well he’ll bring the ones that want to come back anyway, but by the looks of them I think most if not all were planning on staying. My son’s pretty single-minded. If I tell him to do something then you can count on it getting done.”
“But what if he wanders off?” Ashley voice was filled with concern.
“Don’t worry Babe…He’ll make a beeline there and back. I just have to worry about him wandering around when he doesn’t have something to occupy his mind. Right now he’s focused on getting there and back. That’s plenty to keep him from wandering.” The older man said while stroking her back. He took a few more puffs from his cigarette before speaking, “Okay where was I?”
Jimmy blurted out, “Right after the dead baby. The guy just squashed his wife with a refrigerator, and then beat her to death with a George Foreman grill.”
Gary laughed, “Oh yeah…well that’s one way to knock out the fat.”
The teenagers tried not to laugh, they knew they really shouldn’t, but despite their efforts a few giggles still slipped out. Even Ashley the camp counselor snickered before slapping the man across the chest, “Oh you’re so bad.” She let her hand linger on his pectorals.
Gary whispered into her ear, “Maybe later, after they’re asleep, we can be bad together.”
Ashley’s eyes took on a mischievous glint, “I think I’d like that.”
The man grinned, and then continued, “Okay, so the kid is dead, the wife is dead. You guys know I really thought about using a salad shooter to kill her, but I thought that might be a bit much. Well anyway…Wayne Tripp was laying there on the floor in his wife’s blood. Now right at that exact time Danior was running through the bayou…”
Chapter Twenty
Danior ran through the bayou. Water splashed with each bounding step. He tried to stay in the shallows, and even on land when possible, but every once in a while he had to go into deep water. The brackish water devoured him when he got too deep. His heavy muscular body was too dense to swim easily. As he sank into the depths, Danior paddled as hard and fast as possible to try and get to more shallow water. As soon as his feet touched the bottom Danior would jump forward and up to propel himself even further. Danior exploded out of the water, sailed sometimes as much as a hundred feet through the air, and then crashed down into the water with a loud splash. With each leap, Danior risked impaling himself on a tree branch, or hanging himself on a vine. Even the landings were dangerous. Several times he landed on logs just under the water’s surface.
When he struck the logs, bones broke, but they reset almost immediately. He didn’t even slow down. It was the first night he could remember being free. The doctors had kept him as a teen. His pack leader had been willing to sacrifice the entire pack to protect the secret. He’d been dead all these years. Who even knew if the other packs still existed? It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. Danior was free, and after all these years he could finally make them pay.
The doctors and scientists that had worked on Danior were dead, but the government that paid them were still thriving, and if the government was taken over…well they were probably just as bad. Danior flung himse
lf into the air with reckless abandon. The parasite had in some ways done him a favor. Certainly it had killed him, but in a way it also provided him with the means to his revenge. If he’d had just been a werewolf then he’d have probably died of old age by now. Instead the infection killed his body, and now every time he changed back from being a werewolf he was a healthy young man in his early thirties. What little sanity he had after all the experiments was completely obliterated over the last fifty years. Every full moon he had to change, and for the last fifty years he’d been in a terrible cycle of rising to the full moon inside that dead compound.
Even the undead that roamed the corridors with him all those years had wound down to dried out husks. They might move occasionally, but it was slow and they didn’t want to waste any energy they might have left until some food was available. He hadn’t been so lucky. When the moon rose, he had to change, and so every full moon he rose up without food or water. He didn’t have anything to eat or drink so that he could heal. So the transformations really just resulted in him being a dried up husk of a werewolf. Still, he maintained consciousness the entire time the moon held sway over him. He broke with sanity after the first two or three years, he’d suffered like this for fifty years. There would be retribution.
He hated the Germans for capturing and killing his family, but he hated the Americans more. The Germans never claimed to him to be anything other than what they were, but the Americans all claimed to be the good and decent saviors of the world. Apparently their particular brand of salvation wasn’t extended to him. Instead he was subjected to even worse tortures by the man that by all rights should have been executed as the very real monster that he was.
Aribert Heim had always treated Danior badly. Aribert threw out all scientific method when it had come to the werewolf. Instead he behaved like a child with his first chemistry set. Aribert tried things out as the mood suited him. He did this without regard to Danior’s mental or physical well-being. Danior wanted the man dead, but now could only console himself with the fact that in all likelihood the Doctor had died of old age. Still, if he’d somehow survived then nothing would bring Danior more pleasure than hunting the man down and performing many of the same experiments he’d endured on the doctor. That thought brought a dark joy to Danior’s heart, but it was short lived.
Each deafening splash drew the attention of local wildlife. Some things, like gators, began moving towards the sound, but most things ran away. It didn’t matter though. Danior was so hungry that anything unfortunate enough to cross his path was almost immediately eaten. Turtles, snakes, crawfish, alligators, and even fish all were eaten as he moved like a blur through the bayou. With every bite he healed even more. He’d woken a dried husk, and by now he was almost completely healed.
Danior splashed, and crashed through the swamp. He still felt a little embarrassed that he’d been scared off so easily, but most of the initial embarrassment had turned to a white hot rage. Finally, he found a road. Danior walked down the side of the road along the tree line. He could smell exhaust being carried on the wind, and so Danior stalked his way along the road. He’d need clothes and a place to hide when the sun rose.
Up ahead he saw taillights. He started a slow trot towards the vehicle. The driver was standing beside his car. He just finished up peeing, and started making his way around to the driver’s side. Danior picked up speed, but it was already too late. The man slipped into his vehicle and drove off. In his werewolf form Danior could probably have chased the vehicle down, but he was still trying to adjust to this new world. He didn’t know what kind of weapons the man might have. He’d need a day or two to acclimate, and he’d need to start rebuilding a pack. He could already feel the pull of one in his bloodline. It was faint, and very new, but he could feel the connection vibrating between them like a guitar string. He’d have to search this other person out.
Danior tried to call out to the other, but they were either unconscious, or they were so lost to the change that they couldn’t hear him. The second was the most likely of the two. It was another sign that whoever it was…they were a very new werewolf. Danior kept plodding his way down the road until he say a gate. Where there was a gate, there was a house, and where there was a house there were people, and where there were people…there would be food and potential future pack members.
He slipped over the gate and made his way up the dirt driveway. He moved his way toward the house, but halfway there he heard a barn door open and then shut. The house was pitch black, but the barn had a faint light that he could just barely see. Danior moved to investigate. He was slow and cautious. When he was halfway to the barn he could make out some type of romantic music. As he got closer he could hear what sounded like a man inside.
“Oh Baby! Oh Baby! I love you Baby! You’re the only one for me. The other’s never meant anything. It’s always been you, and it’ll always be you. Oh Baby! I’m almost…SHAZAAAAM!”
Danior moved around the barn. He didn’t want any unnecessary surprises. So he sniffed around. He could smell one man inside, and there had been another there earlier, but he’d been gone awhile. There was even the smell of a woman, but it was the faintest of all. Danior was about to open the door and go in when he heard the man inside, “What’s that Baby? You want to dance? Well okay, but I’m leading this time.”
Danior looked up and saw the open doors to the loft. Instead of going through the front, he decided to surprise the couple. He only smelled one man inside, but by the conversation he knew there had to be a couple. He bent down and then leapt into the loft. His landing was soft and gentle. The loft held enough hay to cushion his landing, and it even helped to quiet his steps.
“That’s right Baby. I’ve been practicing. See how good I’ve gotten?” The man said gently.
Danior looked down from the loft, and nearly fell down laughing. In the center of the barn was a man wearing no clothes, and he was dancing to slow, seductive music with a goat. The goat’s two front legs were being held up by the man. He held “Baby” like any man would hold his lover. He even showered kisses on the goats face and horns.
He was about to pounce when he heard a door slam shut from outside, “GODAMMIT JIMBO! If you’re in that barn fucking one of my goats again I swear to God I’ll be emptying buckshot into your creepy ass!”
“Don’t be afraid Baby…I’ll protect you.” Jimbo said as he stepped between the goat and the door.
The door kicked open, and in walked an elderly fat man, “You little pervert! Wasn’t it bad enough when you fucked my turkey? If my wife had found out it might have ruined Thanksgiving. Now you’re out here fucking my goat? Can’t you get a woman like normal folk? Shit I’ll even pay for a hooker if it means you quit sticking your dick in all my livestock.”
“Don’t try and stop us Jimmy Jack! This time it’s love.” Jimbo braced himself to protect his goat lover. Baby however had already wandered over in boredom to get a mouthful of feed.
Jimmy Jack took aim, “Now get your ass out of here before I fill your ass full of lead.”
It was then that Danior decided to strike. He dropped down from the rafters. Using his incredible strength, Danior clubbed Jimmy Jack on the head. Jimmy Jack’s head caved in. Both eyeballs had nowhere left to stay. They shot out like two party poppers, but instead of confetti spraying out joyfully into space, it was two eyeballs and a spray of blood. The shotgun fell down, but didn’t go off.
Danior pulled off the man’s arm, and let his body flop to the ground. Jimbo panicked and tried to run for the door, but Danior kicked Jimmy Jack’s body. Jimmy Jack sailed through the air and slammed into the double doors. Jimbo was blocked by the farmer’s still twitching body. He backed up and looked for a weapon while the werewolf took his time eating the other man’s arm…bone and all. There were hatchets, and chainsaws. He could even see a sledgehammer, and an old deer rifle. The problem was that they were all on the other side of the barn, and he’d have to go through Danior to reach them.
T
hat left the farmer’s shotgun, but it was right at the feet of an eight foot tall gray zombie werewolf. Jimbo ran at the gun and dove, but Danior caught him and flung him against a wall. Jimbo struck his head and nearly blacked out. Danior started moving towards him. Danior’s fangs dripped with anticipatory drool.
That’s when baby butted the werewolf as hard as she could. Danior fell to his knees, and a snarl curled up across his face. He turned and started after the brave, but sexually promiscuous goat. Baby backed up from the predator. It bleated in fear as the zombie werewolf got closer. Danior was about to strike.
*Bang*
Pellets from the buckshot shredded Danior’s back. The pain was intense, but almost as soon as the damage was done…it began healing. The lead pellets popped back out of the wounds, and thumped as they fell to the floor. Danior glanced over his shoulder at the man, and then turned back to the little goat. Danior knew how to really hurt this deranged man, and he pressed in to slaughter the goat. Baby was pressed in to the edge of the barn, and the little goat was bleating in terror. It’s eyes were wide and fearful as Baby looked out to Jimbo for protection.
“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” Jimbo said before gripping the barrel of the shotgun like it was a bat and running at the werewolf in order to bash its brain in.
He got three steps before Danior turned around and grabbed the man by the throat. He eyed the nude man. During that time Danior started trying to decide what would be best. Then, after having debated in his head for a moment, Danior bit the man’s shoulder. He was intentionally infecting the man. Once he was sure the parasite was in the man’s blood, Danior threw the man into the barn door. It gave way, and Jimbo rolled another twenty feet. He was completely unconscious.
Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves Page 20