The Werewolf Chasers (Book 3): Wolf Hunt 3

by Strand, Jeff

  "Ah, okay, I get it," George said. "You think I killed Mr. Dewey." It was worth a shot.

  "Don't try that," said Tanner. "Let's respect each other's intelligence."

  "Fair enough. So, Tanner, Jack here told me that there was a price on my head, and that I might be able to work something out with him. Was he full of shit about the second part?"

  Tanner nodded. "Yes, he was lying to you."

  "I figured."

  "I'm the one who put the price on your head. Alive or dead. Preferably alive, so I could watch you die. Lou was a wonderful unexpected bonus. I'm glad I had extra cash on hand."

  "Seriously?" asked Lou, holding up his stump.

  "Oh, that wasn't a missing hand joke," said Tanner, sounding genuinely embarrassed. He quickly composed himself. "You thought you could scare us away, George. It didn't work. It was never going to work. And now revenge is going to be so much sweeter."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" asked George. "Do I look like I can scare anybody?"

  "I'm talking about the warnings."

  "What warnings?"

  "The warnings to leave you alone. The innocent families massacred."

  "Again, what the hell are you babbling about?"

  "A few weeks ago Duncan Maven came home to find his family slaughtered, with a warning to leave you alone. More recently, Eddie Williams and his family were also hideously murdered, with the warning repeated. It didn't work. We weren't going to stop until we reached this moment."

  "I'm a low level thug for hire," said George. "You think I have the power to order people's families to be killed?"

  "If you're claiming that you weren't responsible, I'll buy that," said Tanner. "But it did happen. I received one of the pieces of Duncan."

  "Well, I don't know who would be so desperate to keep me alive," said George, even though he had a pretty good idea. It didn't surprise him that J.P. would want to keep the vengeance seekers away, and it now didn't surprise him that J.P. would have innocent people murdered to make it happen. George hoped he'd get the opportunity to discuss this with him.

  "May I say something?" asked Ivan, stepping forward.

  "Absolutely not," said Tanner.

  Plastic Surgery Face, who George had not realized was still standing, and who he had not noticed was now holding a wooden baseball bat, smacked Ivan in the back of the head. Ivan dropped to the floor. Plastic Surgery Face bashed him a couple more times as he lay there, unmoving.

  "Should I kill him?" he asked.

  "How much is he worth?" Tanner asked George.

  "I came out of hiding just to deliver him, so you figure it out."

  "Don't kill him," said Tanner. "Break his legs, though."

  Plastic Surgery Face smashed the bat into Ivan's left leg. George was quite familiar with the sound of bones breaking, and it was clear that this swing did the trick. He did it again, hitting the same leg, and this time the bat broke in half.

  "Dammit," said Plastic Surgery Face, tossing the handle of the bat aside.

  "That's good enough," said Tanner. "I think he's learned his lesson."

  "Learned his lesson? He politely asked if he could say something," said George.

  "Right. And the lesson he'll take from this experience is that I will have somebody beaten half to death for politely requesting to speak." Though it seemed like the kind of crowd where everybody would have a good chuckle at this, nobody laughed.

  George longed for the time when "high-speed chase" was an option for escape. Now they'd gone from having a terrible plan to having no plan. They definitely couldn't fight their way out of this mess, and he had no idea how they could talk their way out of it. It would be reassuring to think that Lou might have some clever conversational tactic to save them, but unfortunately George was almost always the better talker.

  "So what happens next?" George asked.

  "You die," said Tanner.

  "I picked up on that part. I was looking for a more detailed itinerary."

  "There's not much more to it than that." Tanner turned to face Jack. "You'd said you wanted to watch. Is that still the case?"

  "Absolutely," said Jack.

  "It's going to be messy."

  "I like it that way."

  "Everybody else okay with the mess?" Tanner asked the other people in the room. "Anybody vomits, they're cleaning it up themselves."

  Everybody indicated that they were indeed okay with the mess.

  "May I say something?" asked Lou.

  "Sure," said Tanner.

  "The guy with the rocket launcher has a great big boner. I think he gets sexual pleasure out of holding his weapon, and it's making me very uncomfortable."

  "I'm not erect at all!" said the guy with the rocket launcher, standing up.

  "Sit down," Tanner told him. "He's screwing with you."

  "Well, I don't want any of you thinking I—"

  "I said, sit down."

  Rocket Launcher Dude sat down.

  "Should he have a rocket launcher indoors?" asked George. "It seems like a safety hazard. And though I didn't personally notice the erection, I do think he's fondling it in a way that should concern everyone here. I'm not saying he wants to fuck the rocket launcher. Nobody is saying that. I'm just saying that he could get lost in his feelings and accidentally blow us all up."

  "Would it make you more comfortable if he took the rocket launcher outside?" asked Tanner.

  "If nobody else has a problem with it, I'm not gonna be the one to make a big deal out of it. It's clearly making him happy. It would be a much better world if we all had something we loved that much."

  "I will hand over my entire cut if you let me take them outside and blow them up," said Rocket Launcher Dude.

  "I'll throw in mine, too," said the second asshole from the gray car.

  "Tempting, but no," said Tanner. "I'm not looking for this to be quick and painless."

  Plastic Surgery Face held up a large hacksaw.

  George's mouth suddenly went dry and his plan of "talk until somebody makes a mistake" seemed woefully inadequate.

  "If you lie on the floor and let this happen, it will hurt a lot less," said Tanner. "We're not going for total bodily dismemberment. We're just going to saw off your head. Slowly."

  Lou stepped forward. "I don't think so."

  "You don't? You think you can fight off all of us?"

  "Maybe."

  "Well, Lou, you were a surprise bonus. I don't need to watch both of you get decapitated. I'm just as happy to have you get shot a few times."

  Tanner gestured. His flunkies opened fire, shooting three bullets each into Lou's chest.

  While George strained to process what was happening, Lou stumbled backward, lost his balance, and fell to the floor, his shirt soaked with blood. He twitched several times, spat up some additional blood, and then stopped moving.

  George felt a flash of white-hot rage, but it was immediately overtaken by shock and sorrow. He'd lost his best friend again.

  The fact that he'd be joining Lou shortly was no consolation.

  He knew that he should attack—if they pumped him full of bullets, it would be better than the demise they'd planned for him, and he might get lucky. But instead the feeling went out of his legs and he dropped to his knees.

  "Go on, threaten to kill me," said Tanner. "I want to hear you try to be scary."

  George said nothing.

  "C'mon, George! You're disappointing me! Make an empty threat!"

  Blood was already starting to pool underneath Lou's body.

  George's hands and lips trembled. He wanted to rush over there and rip that son of a bitch limb from limb, but it would be a wasted effort. He wouldn't even get to break his thumb.

  "So I guess we now know what it takes to get George Orton to shut the fuck up," said Tanner.

  Tanner delivered this line as if expecting a big laugh, but again the other men didn't even chuckle.

  "And now it's time for me to go all Queen of Hearts," he said.r />
  His two flunkies got up and walked over to George, seemingly unconcerned that he might fight back. George tried, but instead of the adrenaline of rage, he simply felt drained, and his efforts to resist were honestly kind of pathetic. The two men held him against the floor, face-down, and Plastic Surgery Face crouched down next to him with the hacksaw.

  "Off with his head," said Plastic Surgery Face, apparently concerned that George hadn't understood the Queen of Hearts reference.

  Now George struggled more vigorously, but one of the men was sitting on his back, and though he could thrash around he couldn't get free. He felt the jagged edge of the hacksaw press against the back of his neck.

  George had never anticipated that he'd live a long life, and he'd also sort of assumed that he'd meet a violent end, but this was a pretty bad way to go. For a split second he almost started to plead for his life, then he forced himself to overcome that urge. Though he might not get off a snappy one-liner before his demise, he certainly wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of hearing him beg for mercy.

  Plastic Surgery Face slid the hacksaw across his flesh.

  It hurt like hell. George didn't shriek, but he did scream.

  "Let him go," said...Lou?

  Plastic Surgery Face stopped sliding the blade, though he didn't remove it from George's neck. George glanced over and saw that Lou was now seated upright. Lou spat out some blood, then wiped some more blood from the corner of his mouth.

  Everybody just stared at him as Lou got to his feet. His shirt was completely drenched with blood—even if there was a last gasp of life left in him, he shouldn't be able to stand up like that.

  "Damn," said Tanner. "You guys missed every vital organ."

  Lou shook his head. "I'm a zombie. Let George go, or I'll devour each and every one of you."

  "Shoot him in the head!" somebody shouted.

  Lou, bloody mouth open wide, ran toward Plastic Surgery Face, arms outstretched. Plastic Surgery Face let out a yelp and moved out of the way. The hacksaw fell over but remained on top of George's neck.

  Rocket Launcher Guy stood up.

  Lou tackled the man who was seated on George. The element of surprise worked in Lou's favor, and the man hit the floor. Now George had some serious adrenaline action going on. He pulled himself free of Tanner's second flunky, grabbed the hacksaw, and got up on his knees. He swung the hacksaw at the flunky, getting him right in the face, hard. It wasn't enough to chop off half of his head or even sink the blade in very deep, but it definitely drew blood. The blade popped free as the flunky recoiled and screamed.

  Somebody fired. Presumably they meant to shoot Lou in the head, but Lou and the first flunky were engaged in a violent struggle that involved twisting around very rapidly, and a small chunk of the flunky's skull flew into the air. Small piece or not, the flunky's body went limp. Lou didn't let it drop to the floor, possibly because a dead human shield was better than no human shield.

  "Careful!" Tanner shouted.

  George swung the hacksaw at the other flunky again, hitting him right in the center of the palm he was holding up to protect his face. George quickly slashed at him a few more times, none of them fatal wounds, but enough to make him reconsider future endeavors in the realm of holding people down while they were being decapitated.

  Then he grabbed the flunky, using him as his own human shield. At least his shield wasn't a corpse. But he and Lou were still vastly outnumbered, and the odds of them being able to just walk out of this using the flunky as a hostage were pretty much non-existent. That said, maybe the flunky was Tanner's beloved nephew or something.

  "Let us go or I'll break his neck," George said.

  "Is that a joke?" Tanner asked.

  The good news was that the other men hadn't immediately opened fire. So they at least cared a little bit about not accidentally killing the other flunky. And they were probably still a bit astonished by Lou being upright. If not for all the blood, they might've thought he was wearing a bulletproof vest.

  Jack fired. The flunky's head flopped forward and he immediately became dead weight.

  "Don't kill George, you idiot!" Tanner shouted.

  "I wasn't! I was getting rid of his shield!"

  "I'll decide if my men are expendable, not you! George is half a foot taller! There was no good shield there!"

  The deceased flunky slipped out of George's arms and dropped to the floor, leaving him completely exposed. Lou, either coincidentally or in a show of solidarity, also dropped his protective corpse.

  George touched the back of his neck. It was bleeding, but he wasn't likely to die from this wound before he died from some other cause.

  "Screw it," said Tanner. "This isn't worth it. Just kill them."

  There was a very loud cracking sound, like a broken bone being given an extra twist.

  Ivan let out a cry of pain.

  He rolled over, revealing a face covered with fur.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Carnage

  There were many different reactions to this, none of them dignified.

  Tanner stood up, eyes wide with shock, making him look even more like a cartoon than before.

  Jack shouted, "What the hell?"

  Rocket Launcher Dude stumbled backwards, knocking over his chair.

  The asshole from the gray car just pointed at Ivan, mouth opening and closing in a soundless scream.

  The asshole from the white car stood there, gaping, his knees wobbling so violently that he looked like he might collapse onto the floor.

  Plastic Surgery Face ran behind the bar and ducked beneath the counter.

  George and Lou just stood there. George liked the idea of using this opportunity to flee, but somebody was bound to shoot them before they escaped.

  Ivan's legs split open his pants as he transformed. Each leg bent at a different unnatural angle, and his human scream was now an agonized lycanthrope howl. George wondered what was happening to the broken bones underneath his hairy flesh.

  It took longer than usual—Ivan could normally transform almost instantly, like cheesy CGI. Everybody just watched in shock as he flailed around the floor in misery, his body growing larger and scarier.

  Finally he sat up and snarled.

  The asshole from the white car tried to back away. But his legs gave way beneath him and he fell on his butt. He let out the terrified shriek of a man who no longer cared about behaving professionally in front of his associates. As he scrambled away, he aimed his gun at Ivan with trembling hands and fired.

  It was actually a pretty good shot, hitting Ivan in the center of the chest. If Ivan the Werewolf could be harmed by non-silver bullets, the shooter would've been a hero to his peers, despite the cowardly shrieking. Unfortunately for him, the shot had no impact except to make Ivan angrier than he already was.

  Ivan quickly crawled toward him. He had a nice long reach and grabbed the man by his ankle. Then he dragged him over, leaning down so that their faces were only inches apart.

  George knew what was coming next. It was going to be unpleasant.

  He didn't watch as Ivan's sharp teeth met the man's soft face. But he also didn't cover his ears, so he heard the crunch, at least before it was drowned out by the ruckus made by the others in the bar. With everybody distracted by this hideously grotesque sight, it seemed like a good opportunity to run. George didn't think he could make it to the exit, but he might be able to make it behind the bar counter, shielding him while Ivan hopefully shredded Tanner and his remaining men.

  George bolted for the bar. In his peripheral vision, he saw Ivan rapidly shaking his head back and forth, blood flicking off the strips of flesh that dangled from his jaws.

  Lou followed.

  Somebody fired. Lou grunted in pain and some blood sprayed from his shoulder.

  The now-faceless man flew into the air. He didn't quite hit the ceiling. He landed with the sound of a dozen wet towels slapping against the floor.

  George and Lou made it behind the bar
.

  Plastic Surgery Face lunged at George with a broken wine bottle, missing by inches.

  Lou pushed his way in front of George. Plastic Surgery Face stabbed him in the chest with the bottle. Lou recoiled in pain, twisting away and leaving a couple of large shards of glass imbedded near his heart. But he recovered an instant later and punched Plastic Surgery Face right in his nose job.

  "Kill it! Kill it!" Tanner shouted.

  Lou grabbed Plastic Surgery Face by the hair, which came right off. So he grabbed him by the ear and smashed his head against the cabinet. He smashed him again to knock him unconscious, once more to be sure, then let his body fall to the floor.

  The asshole from the gray car came into view. He pointed his gun at George, then disappeared from view again as Ivan grabbed him. He screamed a lot. Parts of him came back into view, and though it wasn't the first time George had seen somebody's intestines, it wasn't a sight that one ever got used to.

  His screams abruptly went silent, leaving the sound of rending and chewing.

  George peeked over the top of the counter to see what the others were doing. Rocket Launcher Dude had his beloved rocket launcher braced over his shoulder and was aiming it at Ivan. Since George and Lou were behind Ivan, this was problematic.

  Plastic Surgery Face, displaying admirable but inconvenient resilience, got back up.

  Ivan also stood up. He let out a loud snarl that seemed like a mixture of rage and pain.

  Rocket Launcher Dude fired.

  He probably didn't get a lot of opportunity to practice with his weapon. Even at this close range, the rocket missed Ivan completely.

  It did not miss Plastic Surgery Face. The destruction to his head was so thorough that it was impossible to say exactly where he'd been struck. As George and Lou got the hell out of there, no longer worrying about getting shot, there was a massive explosion as the rocket struck the bottle-lined shelf. Alcohol galore went up in flames.

  Rocket Launcher Dude dropped his launcher and tried to flee. But Ivan pounced. It was a clumsy pounce and Ivan yelped while doing it, but he landed upon Rocket Launcher Dude and knocked him to the floor.

  "No! No! I wasn't aiming for you!" were his final words, before Ivan used his claws to open him up, neck to waist.