Werewolves of the Dead Chapter Eleven

Hi everyone. I never realized chapter eleven was so long. Maybe it will need to be cut up. What do you think? Regardless, enjoy! And before I forget, special thanks to Teresa Lane for catching an error last week. Thanks, Teresa!

Chapter Eleven

Greene and Helfron brought large OD green cases inside. Shannon marveled that they had been able to close the car’s trunk considering how big they were.

Greene watched her closely as he moved the crates through the diner. Occasionally he would whisper something to Helfron. Helfron only nodded his head in disagreement or it’s opposite.

Shannon tried to ignore it, but caught snatches of their conversation. Greene was definitely suspicious of her, but had no idea of what. She finally grew tired of sitting on the fence. No better time was going to appear for her to bring in her wares.

“Got room for more?” she asked Helfron in between coming inside and going out.

“Sure,” answered Greene, ignoring anything Helfron would say. “What do you got to add?” He sat on a crate as Helfron eyed him warily.

“We’ve always got room for a shotgun or two,” said Helfron, rolling his eyes at his partner. “Bring ‘em in. I figure we’ll be here for a week, maybe two, and we could use some close-in stuff.”

“Got more than that,” Shannon said with a nervous smile.

Her pulse quickened as she walked to her car. Sweat rolled down her face, and into her eyes and mouth. It was more than just the heat. Why are you so goddamned nervous, she chided herself.

Everyone in the diner went to the window, watching her like the proverbial train wreck.

Shannon slung her pistol belt on her shoulder before loading her arms with the other weapons. She struggled to get through the diner door, but made it. Every single mouth hung open as she laid the stack of weapons onto the olive drab green cases. “Got more,” she said, feeling sheepish.

Shannon returned to the car and removed the ammo. Helfron came out to help her. It was more out of curiosity than being a gentleman that prompted him to join her. “You’ve got some interesting tools of the trade for a diner table jockey, Shannon.”

“I’ve been busy in my off hours,” she said, loading his hands with magazines and ammo. “Girl’s gotta be prepared, right?”             They dropped the magazines beside the weapons. Greene was going through the stack, racking actions, flipping selector switches and looking at serial numbers.

“We’ve got a problem here, Denny,” Greene said, unholstering his pistol. “Some of these were reported missing from those checkpoints some nights ago. I think we’ve might have a cop killer here.”

Helfron stood in front of Greene’s pistol. He hated the clichéd showdown that he found himself in. “Hey, hang on, Steve.” He reached out to push down Greene’s pistol. Greene wasn’t in the mood for taking a calm approach.

“You hang on. I read the report and more than a few of the serial numbers I memorized are here. Ask her how she came across them. ASK HER!”

“Now calm down, Steve,” said Deidre, joining Shannon and Helfron. “There’s a logical reason. There’s got to be. It’s Shannon after all.”

“I’m a werewolf,” said Shannon abruptly. There was no other way to get the situation to de-escalate. “I didn’t kill those cops or those kids. I came up against some biters, and I killed what I could.”

“No one said anything about kids,” said Helfron, turning to face her. His eyes narrowed as his own suspicions kicked in. He kept his hand on his own pistol as he moved to the weapons on the weapons case.

“I was there that night; at the abandoned asylum. I went through the checkpoints after everyone was killed.” Shannon went through her story of that night. The more she told the more everyone looked at her as if she were crazy. By the end, only Helfron and Greene stood close to her. Greene still had his pistol aimed at her, and Helfron still had his hand on his.

“So, does that mean you take it only doggy style,” asked Greg.

Shannon jerked her head into the air in frustration. Her hands went up as a sign of frustration and surrender. “I give up. Shoot me now. Please. I’m not staying here with that asshole.

Helfron pulled a napkin holder from a nearby table and hurled it at Greg, hitting him in the forehead. Greg stumbled back and fell against a wall. He was beyond weary of hurting Greg.

“Sorry about the interruption,” Helfron said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Please, enlighten us with your werewolf form.”

“My what?” Shannon hadn’t been as prepared for the challenge as she thought she was. “You want me to change?”

“Change or I shoot,” said Greene, adding his own challenge. He thumbed the Beretta’s hammer back, and took aim at her heart. “These may be regular hollow points, but I bet they’ll still hurt.”

Shannon didn’t smell fear from the small man. Instead she smelled excitement and anticipation. Any one of those emotions could move a person to shoot. It was a reaction she didn’t relish.

“Oh, they’ll hurt, little man,” Shannon said finally. “But they’ll only piss me off too.” Her fondness for Greene and his adoration of her had vanished. People you liked, pointing a weapon at you changed your opinion of them. “Fine, then. Prepare to be amazed. But if you shoot me, I swear to God I’m shoving that thing in your ear pistol grip first.”

Changing with fear coursing through her veins hurt more than changing under the influence of adrenaline. Usually she kept her eyes open in order to watch her surroundings, but she figured if she were to get shot she’d rather not see it coming.

Shannon heard their gasps of shock and fearful reactions over the straining and ripping clothing and the sound of her bones and muscles tearing and repairing faster than any human’s possibly could. She heard Deidre gasp, Helfron’s muttered expletive concerning fecal matter, and Rose’s muttered Catholic prayer pertaining to absolution. Greene’s “wow” gave her comfort, but only a little. Greg’s exclaimed “fuck me” didn’t surprise her. The saddest thing she heard was Kelsey’s muffled scream. Fear roiled off the woman as she gathered Rance up and ran into the walk-in freezer. Shannon heard the latch catch and something slide into the interior lock along with Rance’s renewed screaming. That would be a situation she knew she’d have to defuse.

Once the change was complete, she opened her eyes. “Hi,” she said with an almost shy growl. “This is who I am.”

“This… is…awesome,” said Greene in reverence. “You’re…gorgeous.” Greene’s pistol clattered to the floor. He was too awestruck to keep his grip on it. His reaction was nothing that Shannon expected.

“You’re sick,” said Rose to Greene. Not once did she take her eyes off Shannon as she clutched the gold rosary around her neck.

“So what now?” Deidre pulled out a new cigarette with a shaking hand. The flame from the lighter didn’t meet the cigarette, but instead burned her nose hairs. She squealed in pain as she dropped the lighter in amazement at her clumsiness.

Greg and Helfron were the only two with nothing to say. Both stood equally amazed, and equally scared.

Shannon padded her way around everyone to a water fountain. It was times like that that the change gave her cottonmouth, and a thirst that was near unquenchable.

The added height, and not mention muzzle, made drinking difficult. She lapped the water from the stream, wondering what type of stereotypical jokes was going through whose mind. She felt a hand against the fur on her back. She smelled Greene. He was more fascinated than fearful.

“Was it a bite? It was a bite, wasn’t it?”

“No, unprotected sex.” She lapped more water as he pulled his hand away. He replaced it just as quickly as he’d removed it.

“Wow, really? Was it…”

“No,” said Deidre from across the room. “It was consensual. That’s what it was. Her attitude and willingness to even mention it says it was consensual, not forced. Yeah, Shay?”

“That’s right,” said Shannon, turning around. “So much for the boy next door type. Can I change back or would you like to take a picture?” She hoped her smile would show, but a lycan’s muscles were vastly different from that of a human.

No one said anything either way, so she changed back. Her uniform and apron hung off her in limp tatters. She wondered if this was how She-Hulk felt in between forms. She was grateful that she had special made bras and panties that stretched with the changes.

“So, wolf-lady. What are you going to do next? Where does this leave you?” asked Rose with a still shaky voice.

“It leaves me in the same position as you; scared to death and cut off from help.”

“We’re safe with her,” announced Helfron. “She’s not going to hurt us, are you, Shannon? In fact, I’m willing to bet you’re the one that’s been hanging burning people from overpasses and shit.”

“Easy to figure out, huh?” She was glad that she wouldn’t have to tell that tale as well.

“It was the silver jacketed hollow points that made me think that. I always wondered why someone would use those in a murder, and now I know. They weren’t murders were they? You killed murderers that happened to be werewolves, right? You’re the atypical killer of killers.”

“That was you?” said Greg. His voice quivered. He clutched a butcher knife in his left hand. In his mind, all his sins were about to revisit him. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry I said all that shit, and I’m sorry I groped you and all that. I’m sorry, okay? Just please don’t kill me.”

“Pussy,” hissed Rose.

“This isn’t about you, Greg,” said Helfron. “She’s killing those that’ve been getting away with it for years, maybe longer. All the agencies knew it was a serial killer, but no one could figure out the connection between the victims.”

Greene left her side and sat in a booth. He snatched up an unfinished coffee, uncaring as to whose it was or if it was cold. “I did. Remember, Denny? I said werewolf, but you thought I’d been out in the desert too long.”

“I said you’d been watching too many Lon Chaney, Jr. movies is what I said.”

“Whatever. I was right. Ha!” Greene was taking Shannon’s revelation better than anyone else. In fact, it seemed to snap him out of his funk, and he reveled in the news. “She’s a damn lycanthrope. That alone almost makes this zombie shit worthwhile.”

“That’s good. Glad I could make you feel better and that the end of civilization if the least of your worries.” Shannon didn’t mean to snap at him like that. She regretted it immediately.

“Hey, whatever gets Capitol One off my back. I owe those a-holes too much.” He was smiling and that made her feel better, much to her own confusion over the reactions she was seeing. Most still didn’t approach, her but they all seemed okay with it all.

“I’ve got to talk Kelsey out of the freezer,” said Rose. “That boy’ll catch his death of cold in there.” She hustled to the freezer door and proceeded to bang on it. She spoke in gentle tones, attempting to usher Kelsey out. “It’s okay, baby,” she said to the surely freezing mother and child. “Shannon doesn’t mean us any harm.”

“She’s changed you! I know she has! Rance and I’ll be safe here until you kill each other! We’ve got plenty of food and a pot to do our business in! GO AWAY!” Her voice was clear through the door. Kelsey sounded scared to death and hell bent on remaining in her steel habitat. After everything that she’d been through it would’ve been odd if she had sounded calm.

“It’s also thirty degrees in there,” Deidre said, moving from the dining area. “You’ll both freeze to death before anything else happens. Hypothermia is a pleasant way to go, but don’t do this to Rance.” She moved closer to the door, hoping to coax her out. “Really, Kel, we’re fine. Shannon’s done nothing to us. We’re all okay.”

She and rose here Rance’s almost inaudible plaintiff cry of confusion and misery. “Please, momma. I’m cold and I don’t want to be cold while I sleep. Please. I’m tired and cold.”

Even though Rance was lucid his complaint of being cold and sleepy was a sign of hypothermia or shock. Either was enough to scare Rose, and cause Helfron and Greene to join the discussion.

“Come on, Kelsey,” pleaded Greene. “Rance says he’s cold and tired. If he goes into shock it’ll be your fault. His death will be on you.”

Deidre punched Green in the arm. “Good negotiating skills there, ace. She’s already scared enough.”

“Steve’s right,” protested Helfron. “She needs to hear this. If she doesn’t she’ll lose that boy, and how’s that going to affect everyone’s moral?”

Shannon pushed her way forward. Leaning her forehead against the door she spoke. “Kelsey, honey, its Shannon. I’m not going to hurt you or Rance. I promise. I’ve got silver bullets in my own gun. I use them to hunt other werewolves. You can have it or I can fix up Rose’s forty-five and load it with them. You can have either one if it’ll make you feel better.” Shannon hoped that giving Kelsey a means to protect Rance against werewolves and the undead would make Kelsey feel better. Shannon knew that Kelsey was hiding to protect Rance more than herself.

There was a long period of silence from the other side of the door. Finally, Kelsey spoke. “How many bullets can I have?”

“As many as you want.”

“Are you really going to give her ammo that can kill you,” asked Rose in surprise.

“Gutsy move,” said Deidre.

“I’ll give her all of it if she asks for it,” said Shannon. She hoped Kelsey heard that part.

A rasping noise came from the door handle and the door slid open. Rance lay shivering on the floor under Kelsey’s apron. Helfron made for him, but Kelsey held a five-pound box of hamburger patties over her head like a cudgel. “Get back!” Kelsey screamed. “Give me the gun first!”

“Okay, okay,” said Helfron, moving from the door. “Steve, get Shannon’s pistol.” He looked at Rance and then back. “Kelsey, Rance needs to be warm, and soon. He could slip into shock. Look, I’m not going to hurt him. I promise.”

“Here’s Shannon’s piece,” Greene said, thrusting it to Kelsey. “It’s good to go. Got a mag in it, too.”

Kelsey dropped the meat and grabbed the gun faster than Greene anticipated. Her speed surprised him. “Okay, she said, appearing calmer. “Get Rance, please.”

Helfron rushed forward, grabbed the boy, and ran to a kitchen workstation. He spoke gently to the child as he rubbed the boy’s body.

“I don’t trust you any more, Shannon” said Kelsey, squeezing the trigger.

Kelsey’s actions caused Shannon’s heart to stop, and her body clenched. She admired and liked the spirit Kelsey showed, but not as much as the pistol’s sharp click.

The lack of a bang caused panic to appear on Kelsey’s face. She racked the slide and became terrified by the slide locking open on an empty magazine.

“You lied me to,” Kelsey roared at Shannon. “You lied and tricked me!”

Shannon was just as surprised by the turn of events as Kelsey.

“Actually,” said Greene, trying not to grin, “it was all me. Shannon had nothing to do with it. Did you really expect for me to give you a loaded gun? Shannon may dig stupid promises, but I sure don’t. Don’t go blaming her. It was all me, baby.”

Kelsey dropped the pistol and ran to Rance’s side. “Will he be okay, Denny?”

Helfron nodded yes.

Greene picked up Shannon’s 1911. He stood staring at her, juggling the pistol from hand to hand. His mouth formed the words “I knew it” over and over.

“Steve! Steve, get your head outta your ass and get another blanket,” shouted someone nearby. He kept his focus solely on Shannon.

“I knew there was something special about you,” Greene said a little louder. He then strolled away to find another blanket for Rance.

Shannon turned around to find Rose, pointing the MP5 at her, oblivious to the lack of ammo in the submachine gun. “Herb was right all along. You werewolf freaks do exist.”

“Yes, Rose. Its kind like yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus, but with you and werewolves.” Shannon’s humor did little to make Rose lower the MP5. “It’s empty, Rose. You’re not going to do anything with that until it’s loaded.”

“Then you’d better load it for me. I’d feel better around you if I had something that went bang when I needed it.”

“Well, let’s not and say we did, okay, love?” retorted Shannon angrily. She’d had enough of friends pointing things that went bang at her. She wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.

Shannon walked by Rose, patting Rose’s weapon as she passed.

Rose, for the first time in Shannon’s knowing the woman, had harsh words for Shannon; mouthy dog bitch.

The muttered words made Shannon laugh. She stopped laughing once she got to the front door. She intended to close her still open trunk, but the four stumbling figures four hundred yards away stopped her.

“Steve, Dennis, Deidre, anybody. Come here, please.” She liked her squeaky tone of voice as much as she liked what appeared to be lazily ambling toward the diner over two hundred feet away.

“Yeah, what is it, wolfie?” said Deidre. She took a drag off her cigarette, and smiled at Shannon. The smile for her joke dissipated once she spotted the source of Shannon’s distress. “Fuck me. That can’t be what we think they are, can they?”

“I hope not, but they aren’t moving like normal people either.”

“Maybe they’re just dumbass stoners hitching a ride to some stonerpalooza or some shit. Maybe that’s all. Remember those potheads we had in her almost a year ago? So fucked up they forgot their gear at the campgrounds or something. Remember that?” Deidre’s voice held a tremor of uncharacteristic worry. Deidre Martin was fearless in Shannon’s eyes. Up until that moment she’d always been.

“They’re not stoners, Dee. They’re deaders. And before you ask,” Shannon turned her own worried eyes to Deidre. “I can smell the rot from here.”

“Your cute little muzzle’s going to come in handy.” Deidre turned to the two officers leaving the kitchen. “Either of you have any objections to me arming up? Shannon says we got undead coming down on us.”

“What? How many? Are they bearing down on us?”

Helfron, Greene, and Kelsey joined them at the window. Rance had stabilized and was peacefully resting.

“I only see three, but don’t they usually travel in packs?” Kelsey stared out the door at the unsteady, slow-moving figures.

“In fiction it’s normal for them to travel in groups of four or less,” answered Greene from the diner’s back office. Anything numbering five or more could be a problem.

“Anything number one could be a problem,” answered Shannon.

“And this ain’t no movie,” spat Rose, standing next to Shannon. Her hands gripped the MP5 even harder. “I need bullets now.”

Rose joined the five at the door. The undead were faster than any had anticipated. They’d closed on the diner by a hundred feet in the time the conversation had taken place.

To the surprise to some and not to others, Greg dashed across the parking lot and jumped into Helfron and Greene’s cruiser. He paused long enough to throw a shotgun and two assault rifles into the back seat.

“Stupid dick,” muttered Helfron. “He grabbed guns, but no ammo.”

“How do you know that?” Kelsey moved closer to Helfron. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Steve and I haven’t had time to load anything yet. That’s how I know. Oh good. Dumbshit’s activated the light bar and siren.”

The idiot had started the siren and the lights, gaining the attention of the three clearly dead individuals.

“Oh my God,” she said breathlessly. “Are they gonna…”

Like the others, Kelsey watched Greg swerve to miss a zombie, but hit another instead while over correcting. The siren faded before the lights were lost in the distance. The still walking tried to follow the speeding car but for a moment. They stopped, looking between where the patrol car had gone to their fallen comrade before returning to their original path.

The loss of the patrol car didn’t bother Greene or Helfron. They lamented the loss of weapons more.

Greene scoffed at the fleeing fry cook. “Good thing we got another Benelli 12 gauge or we’d be stuck with useless ammo.”

Helfron grunted in agreement as the hit zombie try to push himself up. The zombies’ legs had been crushed with the impact. Pulling his broken lower half was the best he could do for movement.

“Yep. Welp, let’s go see about making these asshats deader…er,” said Deidre, trying to be witty on the term Shannon had used

Deidre walked to the back of the kitchen. She opened and closed cases, trying to find the right weapon. “Bitch wicked,” she announced, pulling a sleek military sniper rifle out of a bottom case. “You got rounds for this?”

“You know how to use that?” said Helfron, wiping his sweaty face from the kitchen doorway.

“It’s a bolt action so there can’t be that much to learn.”

“What’s she got?” asked Greene still at the diner entrance. He stared steadily at the three remaining ambulatory deaders.

“The classic, long distance killer. Your M40.”

“Shit no! That’s mine!” He broke away from the door intent on getting his rifle back.

“Hers now,” said Shannon, wondering what one of Deidre’s cigarettes would taste like. She began to understand now more than ever why people smoked. Some situations were hard to cope with and having a vice made things seemingly better.

Deidre went to the door, and took sight on one of the undead.

“Shooting will only bring more,” warned Greene, looking over her shoulder.

“If that were the case that siren would’ve brought more,” she retorted. “I’m pretty sure that according to your movies, any more would be following his dumb ass.”

“You think? Then go ahead and fire.”

Deidre’s first shot nailed the closest zombie on the left side of its forehead. The remaining two stopped and looked around confused. It was doubtful that the crawling one could see much of anything.

To everyone’s amazement the one that was shot thrashed around and then awkwardly stood. Its gait now gave it the appearance of having cerebral palsy. It suddenly stopped, looked at the other and then attacked.

“And now they’re fighting. That’s unheard of in zombie lore.” Greene pulled up a chair, turned it backwards and sat with his chin resting on his stacked fists. “That M40A3 holds five rounds, Dee. And a headshot’s not a guarantee. It has to be placed just right.”

“Bull,” argued Rose. Shoot a man in the head and he dies.”

“Totally untrue,” said Deidre, reloading the sniper rifle. “People catch all manner of crap in their heads and live. Nails from nail guns, 9mm rounds, bits of tree limbs, falling screws, chunks of glass bottles. All that can damage a person’s brain, sure, but they survive to live normal, sometimes happy lives.”

The atmosphere had turned into that of a study group or sewing circle and not a group of people bent on surviving the end of the civilization.

“Try again, but on the crawler this time,” suggested Shannon. She pulled a cigarette from Deidre’s pack and rolled it thoughtfully between her fingers.

The injured and uninjured grappled around on the ground. The injured had torn several chunks from the uninjured and showed no signs that the necrotized meat bothered him. The uninjured resisted only enough to attempt to escape.

Deidre snickered at how she’d become as morbidly fascinated as the others. “Go on, shoot it. Put ‘em out of its misery,” she urged, leaving to check on Rance and Kelsey.

“It’s a she and I wish I could,” Deidre said, peering through the scope. “They’re fighting around him too much. Shit,” she cursed. “Damn sun’s setting too. Wish I could get them to move away and her into some better light.”

Leaving the shot untaken was for the best. The headshot zombie began growling loudly in pain, and thrashed around on the ground. It kept the left leg of the other gripped tightly in hand.

A loud ripping sound reached the diner as the trapped zombie pulled its leg free at the hip.

The pain racked zombie’s filthy, ratted tee shirt and jeans split as stringy looking hair grew from his exposed skin. As the zombie flailed on the ground the ball joint of the other’s leg made teeth jarring clacking noises on the macadam.

Everyone watched as it stood to its full eight foot tall height with undead wounds healed and howled in rage as a fully realized werewolf.

“Fuckity fuck-fuck fucker,” whispered Shannon. The sun had set and the lycan paced around slowly, sniffing the nighttime world.

“Friend of yours,” asked Greene. A tremor of either fear or awe tinged his voice.

“Fuck you,” whispered Shannon. With alarm she hissed, “Get down before he sees us.”

It didn’t matter if they ducked out of sight nor not. The lycan dropped to its knees first, grasping its stomach. It howled in agony and clutched its head before collapsing totally to the ground. There was no mistaking the suffering in its cries.

The sounds echoed throughout the diner and the interior lights flickered into full life. To the inhabitants it signaled that the diner was open all night to feed anything with a hunger.

“This is going to get us killed,” spat Helfron. He, like the others, got lower still while trying to maintain a line of sight with the werezombie.

“I don’t know about all that,” answered Deidre. She and Shannon edged higher over the back of the booth, focused on the still thrashing creature. “It looks like he’s got other issues.”

The werezombie grew still, and then struggled to its feet. It shook itself violently, flinging something thick and viscous from its muzzle. It spotted the still crawling zombie as it dragged itself within fifty feet of the diner front door. The zombie ignored the hard footsteps behind it as it dragged itself toward the diner.

The werezombie howled once more in pained rage. It ran to the focal point of that rage, the crawler, and stomped its head until the zombie’s body ceased twitching.

“It’s grinning,” whispered Shannon. “It’s happy with its mess.”

None asked her how she could tell. It was clear by the canine smile on its face that it was pleased with its work.

The werezombie moved its head left, right, and back again, sampling the night scents carefully. It closed its scent cone on the diner. Shannon’s eyes grew wide as its eyes locked on hers. She knew for certain that it was staring at her, not Deidre. Deidre had been smart enough to duck back down to the floor, and started low crawling with her rifle to the back of the diner.

“Does it see you,” asked Deidre over her shoulder.

“Hell yeah it sees me.”

“Then get down,” urged Helfron, pulling out his pistol. He wished he’d gotten something bigger.

“Doesn’t matter,” snapped Sharon. “He knew we were here before he saw me.”

“Goddamn it,” said Greene, standing up. “Take a picture, numb nuts,” he yelled defiantly. “It’ll last longer!”

The werezombie charged, but fell after ten steps. It clutched its chest in a coughing fit. It rose again, holding its sternum, in more pain than before. It was past upset and clearly hungry.

It jogged toward them, and leapt onto the roof once it was twenty feet from the door. Everyone looked up at the dull thump from above. The werezombie’s heavy footsteps reverberated through the diner, then silence.

“What’s it doing?” whispered Kelsey. She held a butcher knife close to her chest.

“What it does best; hunting.” Shannon slunk over to her pistol. Greene had placed it back on the weapons cases, but had neglected to load a loaded magazine. It was an oversight that Shannon wouldn’t be repeating.

She looked to the ceiling, racking the slide as quietly as possible. She understood the lycan zombie had appeared undead before the change to a very healthy werewolf. It was then she understood the effects of lycan infection pre and post zombie infection. Just trying to sort out how it was possible hurt her head. To her way of thinking the two couldn’t possibly coexist, yet they did.

“Everyone fall back to the office,” Helfron said in a hushed voice. “Rose, Kelsey, stay close to Shannon, Greene and me.”

Kelsey scooted off to the office, not heeding Helfron’s words to stay close.

The remaining unarmed did as instructed. Deidre moved beside Shannon, knowing that she was the best to deal with the current problem. Deidre’s sniper rifle was potent, but useless at close range.

“You want my pistol?” Shannon held it out, grip first to Deidre. Deidre eyed it with a leering greed that was new to Shannon. “I can smell the want on you. I know you want it.”

“Damn right I do.” Deidre placed the rifle on the floor and took the pistol and three spare magazines. “No big guess as to what you’ll do in this fight.”

Shannon smiled wearily. She didn’t like the scent she was picking up from the area. The smell of fear and the stench of a lycanthrope mixed with death and rotted humanity was overwhelming. She couldn’t concentrate enough to get a location on their opponent. It was frustrating and Shannon hoped that going lycan would help her sort the scents and localize the werezombie.

Shannon began her change before anyone knew it. She doubled over at the office’s doorframe and with Deidre and Helfron’s help she made it into the office.

The office was empty. Kelsey and Rance nowhere to be seen and absent was the smell of fresh blood and their scents. Mother and son had simply vanished.

“Fucking hell!” spat Greene. “Where are they? He couldn’t have gotten past us to them, could he?”

“I would’ve heard him at the very least,” said Shannon, change completed.

“Can you hear him now?” Helfron, normally the bastion of calmness in any storm, was in a smart assy, fear fueled panic. His question was warranted though. Shannon couldn’t hear or smell the werezombie anywhere. The only odors she could pick up was the stench of rancid strawberries mingling with the odor of garlic bologna gone bad. The mixture was both odd and revolting. The diner didn’t serve garlic bologna.

She silently turned and held out a hand to the others, signaling for them to wait where they were. She crept out of the room, examining every square inch that came within sight, hearing, and smell.


About Jason McKinney

I'm a word slinging, werewolf loving, zombie wrangling, scare master author, husband and father of three. When I'm not writing, I'm blathering nonsense to the world or taking orders from the family. You have my thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy the madness and mayhem! Stay delicious, my living peeps!
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