Chapter 16 - Revenge of the Autumn People - Thirty Seconds

                                     Chapter 16 – Thirty Seconds

Alice’s vision didn’t last long. Only thirty seconds from the beginning to the very end. As I’ve mentioned in previous remarks, Alice was both a witch and a Seer. She had always been able to see (and hear, smell, etc.) different types of magic. The ability had seemed natural to her, even though she didn’t always find her experiences pleasant. She had been able to do this from an early age, and at the age of four, she was astonished to find out that most other people weren’t like her and many were unaware that magic even existed.

But the act of Seeing, or having visions of the future, was a newly acquired talent and this was her second glimpse beyond the veil of the present. It was Dorthy that first noticed that there was something wrong with Alice. The little woman attempted to catch Alice as she lost control of her legs. Dorthy, small in stature, only managed to body-check Alice out of the way minutes before the intruders burst through our front door. I managed to catch her head before she smacked it on the hardwood floor. Annie, sensing trouble, immediately started growling and moved protectively between Alice and doorway.

Naydene came into the living room through the dining area. Peck flew in a second later and landed on the back of my couch.

Alice moaned. Her vision was a combination of events that compressed both the past, present and future. Although she had never before laid eyes on the Twins, she saw them as they were drinking in the Pair O’ Dice club and then heard them singing Hank Williams songs. She saw one of them flick open a switch blade knife and then the other kick in the front door of our Old Victorian home. She saw one of them stab Petey in the stomach repeatedly. She heard Peck banter with the Twins, she heard Dana scream and furniture being demolished, she saw Annie charge one of the Twins who was pointing a gun at me. Then she saw one of the Twins fire a gun at Annie. She told me later that she had seen one of the intruders fly backwards out of the same front door they had entered and then she heard Dorthy’s voice telling her to “sit up”. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The vision was over in a mere thirty seconds. Alice was groggy for several minutes. Then, suddenly Alice screamed, “Doc, Vampires! They’re going to kick in the front door!”  I helped her and then Dorthy up off the hardwood floor. I felt a slight tickle at the base of my neck.

                                                                  *      *      *

The Twins approached my old two-story home. The white with blue trim house seemed serene and quiet a few blocks away. Then, a large shadow moved on the roof.  As they were in sight of the front porch Lukus grabbed Lucian by the sleeve of his expensive sport coat. He had a worried look on his face.

“Did you just see that?” He said in a hushed voice.

“Did I see what? Lucian replied, rather annoyed at the distraction.

“There was a monkey over on the roof of that motel next to the big white house…but it had horns.”

“How drunk are you anyway? I can’t to this alone so if you’re not up to the task tell me now.”

“No, I swear I saw it. It is on the house now. It didn’t jump or climb over. It just blinked and suddenly it was on the other roof. I’m not that inebriated. It was sitting on the first roof as plain as day and then it vanished. Just winked out of sight and appeared on the other roof. This neighborhood is haunted!”

Lucian stopped and regarded his brother. “First, monkeys aren’t native to Colorado, and the carnival isn’t traveling with any either. Second, monkeys don’t have horns, and finally, they don’t just appear and disappear. Got it?”

“Yeah, but…” Lukus said in a dejected manner.

“But nothing. I need you to focus right now.” Lucian urged.

Just then a man came shuffling down oak street from the direction of the Old Baily house. He was clutching a letter close to his dirty green bathrobe which had become unbelted. Ralph Greene looked as if he was sleepwalking. He was moving in the direction of Jerry Paloma’s house across the street and to the north of mine.

Ralph shuffled right in front of the Twins violating Lucian’s body space and sense of self-importance. Lucian shoved Ralph, almost knocking him off his feet.

“Watch it!” Lucian said with a rehearsed evil edge to his voice. He blustered like a practiced bully for a minute or so.

Then, something seemed to change in Ralph Greene’s demeanor. He straightened his back and turned towards the two. Now, his face was different. It was contorted a bit. Now, Ralph looked angry at being interrupted. Like a soldier that had been stopped from completing an important mission. Suddenly, the spirit of Arnie Foster, who had been possessing Ralph’s body, shoved Lucian back. It was not in any mood to be pushed or otherwise interfered with.

“Who the hell are you buddy?” Arnie demanded as he threw off his bathrobe and rotated Ralph’s shoulders and neck which made nasty popping sounds. Arnie, now in control of Ralph’s body, raised his hands in a relaxed manner that looked like a person that had been in quite a few fights. “You wanta go pretty boy?” Ralph’s normally placid face looked rabid. His upper lip was curled viciously. He sprayed spittle as he yelled at Lucian.

“Um, Lucian. He’s loosening up to take a swing at you. And whatever else he might be, he isn’t drunk like we are.” Lukus observed.

Lucian opened his coat, letting his opponent see he was armed and dangerous.

“Oh, dear me! A gun. Gee, I’ve never seen one of those before. “Are you that much of a coward? Why don’t you give that ‘piece’ to your girlfriend and then you and I will settle this the ‘old school’ way.” Arnie was psychically radiating anger. It was contagious.

“Girlfriend!” Lukus screamed. “I’m his brother.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Arnie said with Ralph’s voice. I thought with the long hair and matching outfits that you might be on a date, going to the prom or something.” Then he hit Lucian on the temple. He really clocked him. It was a solid blow. Unfortunately, Ralph’s hands were not conditioned for fighting. They were mostly used to filling out office forms. Arnie, who was in control of Ralph’s body, managed to ignore the pain for the moment. The same could not be said for Lucian.

“Son-of-a-bitch” Lucian screamed as he grabbed his bleeding ear and drew his gun.

“Um, I feel it necessary at this point to remind you that if you discharge your weapon, which would be understandable at this point, you will attract unwanted attention. Perhaps even unwanted attention from the Dusk Thorne Sheriff’s Department. If the Boss sends Bell into town to bail us out of jail, it could be ugly.” Lukus blurted. “Focus, stay on mission.” He reminded his brother.

“Point taken.” Said Lucian. He gestured obscenely at the body of Ralph Greene which had already lapsed back into a near comatose state. Ralph’s body, still possessed by Arnie Foster, shuffled off towards Jerry Paloma’s house, swollen hand holding a letter.

                                                        *      *      *

The home invasion incident lasted slightly longer than thirty seconds, but not much. We had a heads-up from Alice, but when they came to the house there was no stealth involved whatsoever. They literally stomped up the stairs, sending Annie into a frenzy of barking. This didn’t detour them one bit. They kicked open my front door. It exploded with a splintering crack. One of them was already bleeding from the ear. I still don’t know what that was about.

The Twins rushed into the house. They froze for dramatic effect brandishing their weapons. Both reeked of alcohol and adrenaline.

I didn’t summon “The Change” this time. It just happened as I moved to confront them, and I never noticed. It was nearly instantaneous, painless and completed from the top of my shaggy ears to the bottom of my ripped out sneakers. I saw Dorthy’s eyes widen and I tried to ask her what was wrong. I couldn’t speak. I looked at my hands. They were the hands of a retired college professor a second ago. Now they were furry clawed weapons.

The Twins looked at each other in momentary surprise, then they hissed at me baring their fangs. Peck flew off the couch and landed on my shoulder. I snarled, showing them my fangs, my killing teeth. They got a close up look at what the dental profile of a Homo Lycan looked like.

“Sorry boys, his are bigger.” Peck quipped.”

It wasn’t just my teeth. Indeed, I was bigger. A good three inches bigger. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen during “The Change”. What the hell was going on with my transformation?

The intruder’s eyes grew wide when they saw the bird.

Peck flew up to a China cabinet. “I see you remember me. Dorthy, these are the guys that drugged my food seventeen years ago and “bird-napped” me.  They sold me to that bastard Frank.” Peck squawked accusingly.

The intruder with the gun reached Alice’s arm. Annie lunged and bit him. He pulled the trigger of the semiautomatic multiple times. Two shots just missed Annie and the bullets landed in the hardwood floor in front of her. Alice pulled Annie back towards Dorthy and the coffee table. Naydene had just entered the living room with a ball bat. She swung it vigorously but rather blindly, cracking the coffee table and demolishing a leg of the China cabinet. She nearly crippled Alice, who quickly gave her more room. When the shooting began again, she ducked and rolled back into the next room. Now the intruder with the gun was firing wild. I had to stop him.

But the guy with the knife made a wild swipe at me. I shoved him across the room. My whole body was bigger now I noticed. How had I changed from a size medium to jumbo? I wondered. I was bigger and stronger but slower. The assailant with the switchbalde ducked around me the next time I swung at him and went for Petey. Billy must have known Petey was in the basement and told him there was trouble. But Petey was also moving rather slowly. He seemed to be lugging something.

I heard Alice scream. I could see the knife wielding intruder from the back looking into the kitchen from the living room The albino (or whatever these fanged intruders are…were they vampires as Alice proclaimed?) was closing with Petey.

He was stabbing Petey multiple times in the stomach. I roared. It rocked my old house like thunder.

The noise caused the albino with the gun to freeze for a moment. Alice let go of Annie. She ran over and grabbed his gun hand. Annie bit the pale-skinned pistolero on the calf and wouldn’t let go of the guy for love or money. Nadyne  came out of the next room and started to work him over with the bat.  He screamed like five-year-old girl with every thud.

The other intruder came flying out of the kitchen. I found out later Petey had been holding a heavy leather bag full of old prohibition currency in front of himself while the albino had been trying to knife him.

 I thought he was being stabbed in the stomach. Instead, the knife repeatedly penetrated the bag that Petey was holding close to his center mass. He was completely unharmed but pissed off.  Petey finally hit the intruder in the head with the heavy leather ruck sack.

I grabbed the gunman by the throat (by now, a signature move for me, apparently) and heaved him back out of the front door. He landed on his back.

To my surprise, Knuckle Butt hadn’t gone home. He was in the back yard when the trouble started turning over the soil for a fall garden. Now he stood over the intruder armed with a large shovel. He put the blade of the shovel to the intruder’s throat.

“You boys with the carnival?” he said with a smile.

Chapter 15 - Revenge of the Autumn People - Unwelcomed Guests

 

                                         Chapter 15 – Unwelcome Guests

It was nearly seven o’clock. The sun descended over the foothills surrounding the little town of Dusk Thorne, Colorado. The storm had moved on and, even though it had been a brutally hot afternoon, the cooler air in the new breeze moving down the alley and up the street carried the crisp promise of autumn.

The breeze was not only cool against the skin, it was tinged with the scent of damp leaves and earth. I could smell wood smoke in the distance through the open window. Someone, several blocks away, was firing up their wood stove in anticipation of a cool September evening.

The neighborhood was silent except for the creak and slams of screen doors down the street, as children came inside for supper and the occasional pickup that motored by the Little Pine Cemetery on the way to the Hungry Hobbit for a bite to eat, or The White Point Theater to catch a weekend showing of “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

I could hear voices buzzing downstairs in the basement. I woke up slowly. My ears detected furniture being shifted in a room off the Dining area. I sat up from the couch, stretched and looked outside. I saw Knuckle Butt packing his landscaping tools into the back of his old truck, presumable to go home. I touched my wounded shoulder. There was no soreness. I rose to get a mirror from the downstairs bathroom, down the hall from the kitchen.      

“It’s gone” I exclaimed twisting my head in an uncomfortable position. I held a hand mirror at various angles, then amended my initial statement. “Well, very nearly gone.” I announced as I returned to the living room and parked my rear back on the couch again. It was sore from the ride back to the house.

After that bumpy and cramped ride under a tarp, in the back of Knuckle Butt’s old pickup truck with Peck reciting bawdy limericks, I had calmed down long enough to change back into my human form. I felt my face. My beard was a bit longer and I needed to shave lest the world think I had decided to go ‘full hermit’ with my appearance.  

This was generally the case after I changed back. My nails would also need to be trimmed, and I would need a haircut again as it had started to touch my collar and grown over my ears. Alice might be willing to do it. She had done it before. Barbers get suspicious if you drop by once a week. While I wasn’t in the closet about being a werewolf, or what Alice called my “Bruno” side, I didn’t like waving it in the faces of others.

I had returned from the bathroom. Peck flew in from the kitchen and perched on my couch staring at Chester. Chester had stalked in from the basement and, in turn, was staring back at the raven. Chester’s eyes were fully dilated. His striped tail whipped back and forth.

“Doc, do something about that fuzzball. He’s giving me the creeps.” Peck implored.

“Peck, you’re being a poor houseguest.” Dorthy admonished. She rose from a leather reclining chair in the living room and gently moved to examine my shoulder.

“What did you say was gone?” Dana asked. She had come out of the room off the dining room that I had hopes of transforming into an office for writing and perhaps tutoring.

“Kyle had a nasty run in with a zombie. It bit him on the shoulder. I had been treating the wound, but it looks like it has almost completely closed.” Dorthy replied.

“Cool! Bet you will have a wicked scar. Can I see it?” Naydene said, as she helped Dana find a place to bed down for the night. She had come out into the living room with pillows and a blanket.

“Don’t touch it.” Dorthy said sternly. “It isn’t unusual for a werewolf to heal rapidly after a transformation. But this is rather remarkable. The wound was infected with flesh eating bacteria living in your father’s mouth when he bit Kyle.”

“On second thought, I’ll help make up a cot for Miss Dana.” Peck flew over to Naydene’s shoulder.

“Care to give a bird the grand tour?” Peck seemed very curious about our old house. Or, perhaps, he was just trying to ditch Chester.

Dana, Peck and Naydene retired to Dana’s new sleeping quarters. Chester looked disappointedly at Peck leaving with two new bodyguards.

“Later cat!” Peck laughed.

Dorthy huffed and stretched. She must have fallen asleep watching over me while I napped, I reasoned. She seems a little fatigued but still moved pretty good for a woman who has survived over two centuries.

“That wound will still require my salve until it closes completely.” The old necromancer advised.

“Dorthy, did you waste Jacob Hornsby’s wish on little ole me?” I asked.

“No, apparently your metabolism was just a bit sluggish. It finally threw off the infection with a little help from folk medicine. I’m saving that wish, for now.” She smiled.

“Back at the carnival, when we were in the tent with Frank, you told me to put him down.” I began.

“He was pointing a gun at you Kyle. I know you think that you are tough customer, but even a werewolf wouldn’t survive several shots to the chest at point blank range.” She replied.

“I didn’t care. I could have snapped his neck even if he did get those shots off.” I said, I could feel some of my anger returning.

“I know. But you both would have died Kyle. I have concluded that your difficulty navigating “The Change” from human to werewolf might have something to do with your anger towards Frank.” Dorthy added.

“Even though I didn’t want to let go of his neck, I did.” I said slowly. There was an unspoken question in my eyes.

“Yes. Because I didn’t just ‘tell’ you to drop him. I ‘compelled’ you to do it. It was magic.” She said simply and quietly.

“You’ve never done anything like that before. How…is that possible now?”

“Peck was there. He is my Familiar. When he is nearby, he can both amplify and focus my powers. I don’t usually compel people to do anything, but I’m not sorry I did that. You were confused and out of control.”

“No, I’m glad you restrained me or whatever. I wasn’t aware that you were doing anything to me at the time. It seemed like I had just, somehow, changed my mind about Frank. But you changed it for me. As easily Petey channel surfs with the remote control when he is looking for entertainment.

Downstairs, in the basement, I heard Alice whispering to Petey.

                                                             *      *      *

“Gadzook’s Gravy Bowl! He’s awake. This is bad.” Alice said in hushed tones

“So what? Just go upstairs. He is probably wondering where we went.” Petey whispered back.

“Damn that Naydene. She was supposed to be a decoy, and now she is helping some visitor Doc brought home settle into a room for the night.” Alice fumed.

“She was supposed to be a decoy. What’s a decoy?” Billy asked.

“A wooden duck.” Said Petey and then snickered.

“She looks nothing like a duck. She can’t pull that off. How would that even be possible?” The little ghost was still confused.

“She was supposed to take Doc and Knuckle Butt out back to talk landscaping with them and stall until we hid the money. Then he decided to take a nap. And who knew he was going to bring home a guest.” Alice complained.

“You know full well that we weren’t supposed to go down into the tunnels.” Petey’s southern drawl had started to get on Alice’s nerves. “All we had to do was stay put until Doc and the others got back.

“There was something creepy down there. It was watching us. I heard it laughing.” Billy whispered.

“One creepy thing at a time, Billy. Doc’s going to blow a furry gasket when he finds out we have a jumbo leather bag full of bundles of cash.” Alice was starting to speak more rapidly. “Petey, find some place to hide this money.”

“Oh, I know! What about in the tunnels where we found it.” Petey snarked. “You know the ironic part of this adventure? Not only did we disobey Doc, but we also can’t even spend that money. It first needs to be sent back down to Xerxes Louisianna to be laundered. I say we put it back where we found it. It doesn’t belong to us.

“No. We aren’t going down there again without back up. Billy is right. There is something down there.

“Yeah, a Giant Head.” Billy said in a shaky voice.

“Will you forget about the Giant Head. I need you to be a lookout in the kitchen. Turn invisible and warn Petey if anyone tries to go downstairs.”

Billy floated up nose-to-nose with Alice. “Anyone?”

“Yes! Anyone.” There were worry wrinkles forming on her forehead.

“Even you.” Billy suppressed a smile.

“I swear, sometimes I think you are too stupid to live.” Alice glared at the little ghost.

“Hey, hurtful!” Billy said loudly.

“Shush! It is just a saying…a manner of speaking.” Alice retorted.

“Still offensive.” Billy turned his back with arms folded while floating in the air.

Don’t make me get the vacuum cleaner out.” Alice said menacingly. Billy had confided in Alice once that he was terrified of vacuum cleaner noises. Something about the frequency disrupts poltergeist thought patterns and makes them flicker like a bad light bulb.

“I’ll tell Joe you were being mean to me.” Billy smirked.

“Joe! Tarnation’s Tailgate! He’ll be home soon. I completely forgot. Alice’s face turned chalk white.

                                                  *      *      *

Meanwhile just a few blocks from Oak Street a grey 1982 Pontiac Phoenix pulled up to the curb and two blonde figures emerged.

“Front wheel drive, smooth ride. Not too shabby. I like it.” Lucian remarked.

“This isn’t the company car we came in.” Lukus made this observation while trying to steady himself in a vacant lot. Both brothers were intoxicated. Neither of them should have been behind the wheel.

“No, we stole this car, remember.” Lucian pulled a pack of More cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You lost the keys someplace between the toilet and the back door of the bar. I had to pick the pocket of a rather odd smelling gentleman so that we didn’t have to hitchhike our way back here.

“Oh, right! He smelled like Brut aftershave. I should have just hypnotized him or bitten him and made him my servant. He could have driven us around for the rest of the night.” Lukus was now slurring his words.

Lucian gave him a sidelong glance. “How many times do we have to have this conversation? You are not…You know what? Never mind. God, you are really drunk.

It was true. They both were. A few drinks at the “Pair ‘O Dice” club had turned into a two-hour binge, complete with the Twins hogging the karaoke machine for a full hour and singing Hank Williams songs. Lukus accidentally found out that he and his brother Lucian could both do passable Hank Williams imitations one afternoon on the train listening to country western tunes on the radio while outside of Omaha headed towards Kansas.

In the bar Lucian was so drunk he started to yodel and got a standing ovation.  The harmonies were dead-on even if one or the other of them would lisp occasionally because of his fang implants.

“Those things will kill you.” Lukus pointed at the cigarettes.

“According to you, we are immortal.”

“Oh yeah. I sometimes forget. What’s with the cigs? I mean, why smoking, anyway. I always wanted to ask.” Lukus sat down on the curb. “Do you think it makes you look cool? I’ve never seen any vampire movies where they smoke, even if they are supposed to be immortal.

Lucian spent a large amount of time smoking before their act. Truth be told, he was addicted to cigarettes again. He got hooked every seventeen years and withdrew behind the Great Mist during their long period of unconsciousness.

“Cool? You know who looks cool in the movies?” Lucian challenged.

“Stallone?” Lukus replied.

“Stallone is a midget who mumbles his lines on screen.” Lucian sneered. “No, Eastwood! Clint Eastwood. When he was doing the spaghetti westerns his director was searching for a tough guy look. A gunfighter look. A look that said ‘don’t mess with me’. One day he stopped by a cigar shop and bought a pack of those little cigarillos he smokes in his films. They made his stomach sick, but the director said that the face that he made was exactly what he was looking for.” Lucian lit up the cigarette with a gold plated lighter.

“Where did you get the lighter?” Lukas asked.

“Same place I got the car keys.”

“You do look like Eastwood when you smoke those things. You’ve got the eye squint down.”

“So, what now? Lukus rubbed his own eyes.

“We go over to check out that Seer that Josiah is curious about.” Lucian announced

“Under the pretense of giving away free opening night tickets?”

“Naw. Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I see no reason to be subtle anymore,” He opened his coat and revealed a shoulder holster with a large semi-automatic luger in it. “If she is there, she is coming with us.” Lucian stated. “We’ll probably get a raise in salary for demonstrating our initiative.”

“We’ve never seen her before.” Lukus declared, as he flicked open his switch blade.

“The Boss saw her in a vision. She has bright red hair. Can’t be too many of those in this neighborhood.”

The Twins made their way to Oak Street with determined steps.

Chapter 14 - Revenge of the Autumn People - The Storm

                                          Chapter 14 – The Storm

Adrenaline flooded my system, and I tried to simulate relaxation in my face while my heart stepped up. Frank looked ragged. He was hung over from a day of drinking and dehydrated from the heat. His head was still muzzy from a nap in a hot tent. This would have been enough of an edge to simply use my werewolf speed and take the gun away from any other man. But Frank Saunders wasn’t a man. He was a werewolf, like me. Moreover, Frank was a psychopath. He had killed a friend of my motorcycle club years ago while in a drunken rage and ran. The club had branded him an outcast for it.

Claxton Geet kept his seat but looked at Frank Saunders defiantly. “You had better read the room Frank. You’re not one of us. You somehow conned your way into this carnival by making Mr. Pandemonium some shady promises. He told me he kept you around to see if you could deliver on those same promises. All I’ve seen you do is drink and run your mouth since you got here.”

“That sounds like Frank alright.” I chuckled while scenting the air.

“Let’s think this through. If shots are fired and Bell comes to deal with the situation, it could be bad. He could have Pandemonium fire the lot of us. If the Deputy Sheriff that’s been doing surveillance on the carney and his men hears that gun go off? Well, it would give him a reason to come down here onto company owned land.” The fire-eater shouted to be heard above the mounting storm.

The storm brewing outside was making the air inside the tent move faster. I could smell Frank’s sweat as he stood up quickly and steadied the .38. I realized then that he might not be as drunk as I initially thought. There should be some stink of fear in Frank’s perspiration. An animal response to the aggression pheromones I was emitting. I hated Frank. He knew this. But there was no odor of fear on the wiry biker. Just the stench of alcohol.

He thinks he is safe for the moment I reasoned. He never intended to shoot unless he had to. He was just psychologically winding everyone else up.

Dorthy pushed me hard in the back to get my attention. I knew better than to take my eyes off Frank. The more that I stared at him the more my anger built.

“Not now Dorthy.” I said between gritted teeth.

“Kyle, let me handle this. You’re out of control.” She said.

“This sorry son of a bitch injected one of the most corrupt men I’ve ever known with a drug that made him superhuman.” I pointed my finger at Frank. I saw that my hand was starting to grow fur. I didn’t care. “Then he sicced him on my daughter and ran.” I screamed.

“Yes, he turned him into a monster. A nearly unstoppable member of the undead.” Dorthy said evenly. “He created an Abomination. But we stopped him. Don’t make me stop you, Kyle. Let me handle this.”

“He’s also got Big Mary’s bike!” Knuckle Butt said in a hoarse voice.

I could feel the power of “The Change” upon me. “Frank, you thieving puke, if you have done anything to Big Mary…” I felt my jaw elongate. I heard the fire-eater gasp. I was becoming nonverbal. Talking was becoming difficult, but I didn’t care about talking anymore.

Time slowed down for me. A side-effect of the adrenaline. The once-stale carnival air was swirling with scents. I was entering the werewolf level of consciousness. Overpowering and vivid sensory input. I smelled the citrusy tang of lemonade in a plastic container in a nearby stand. The smoky, hazy smell of the hot dog grill. I could even smell the damp canvass of the tent and the metallic tang of the coins. I could smell the oil that had been on the human fingertips that had touched the paper currency.

I hadn’t responded to “The Change” in so long it all felt like torture but at the same time it was glorious. I could smell the sweat on the coins. I could tell which members of the poker game had last touched the coins.

“Frank. I growled. Thunder peeled in the heavens. The noise blasted through me. I howled. Then I screamed, “She had to shoot Calvin in the head four times to stop him!”

Frank just grinned.  “She did that to save her own life. Quit calling her your daughter. It’s pathetic. That girl isn’t your daughter, Doc. Quit fooling yourself. You’re like me. No better! You will never have a family. You will never have a normal life.”

I strained to speak. My voice was an unholy and primal thing now. “Frank, she killed him to save my life, not hers.” I grabbed him. My muscled hand closed around Frank’s throat. The fur had started to fill in around the tendons that looked like cables. I now had claws the size of switchblades.

I looked at my hand. “Maybe we are just alike, Frank. She wouldn’t have been in that situation if it hadn’t been for both of us.” I lifted him off the floor. He pulled back the hammer on the .38.

Pamela, the mechanic screamed. Dana looked at Dorthy. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as the carney worker watched my transformation.

“Grant,” Dorthy cried. “Take Dana out to the truck. If I’m not there in five minutes leave.”  Knuckle Butt hustled out of the tent with Dana.

“Doc, we are leaving.” She stuck her hand out and pointed at the floor. “Drop” Dorothy screamed looking up at me.” She adjusted her leather duster and frock. “Bad werewolf!” she added.

The small necromancer turned around. The tent was in disarray and the table now on the floor. Apparently, I had done this. She turned to Claxton Geet, Pamela the mechanic and the fire eater. They were still looking at me holding Frank by the throat while he was simultaneously holding a gun on me. I felt a sudden compulsion to let Frank go. He slipped as he landed. The raven went with him but gracefully landed on his arm.

“It has been an eventful afternoon. I am sorry I didn’t catch everyone’s name. I do apologize that we now must leave, for my friend here isn’t quite himself right now.” Then she turned to the raven. “Peck we are going home. You know what to do.”

“Bout time Dorthy!” Peck complained. The raven, still tethered to Frank, in a flurry, stabbed him thrice in his gun hand with his sizable beak. The gun fell to the floor. “Done!” he reported as Frank danced and hopped on one foot.

He looked at his gun hand in dismay as Dorthy swept her hand into her pocket and came out with a small knife. Frank, obviously rattled, and still trying to stop the flow of blood from the meager wound Peck had delivered, remained still and silent as she approached.

She cut the tether connecting Peck to Frank. “We came in an old pick up. You remember Grant, don’t you?” Dorthy asked the bird.

“I’ll find it. Don’t’ be long. You don’t want to mess with Bell.” Peck said as he took wing and flew out of the tent.

“Kyle, you’re going to have to ride in the truck bed. The cab is already full. It is pouring down rain so Glenn says there is a canvas tarp you can pull over you over you.”

I nodded and slowly turned to glare at the others in the tent one last time.

“Oh, and Mr. Saunders.” Dorthy turned to Frank who was trying to bandage his hand with a ripped piece of his shirt tail. “You should know that Jacob Hornsby, the Old Well, gave me one of his wishes in exchange for a favor. Doc is currently having some anger issues. As soon as he sorts those out, he will return to retrieve his friend’s motorcycle. He will also have questions.  You need to cooperate with him. Else I’ll use that wish to make your life a living hell. Do we understand each other?”

Frank nodded. It was a nod of resignation. The nod of someone defeated but determined to get the upper hand again, sooner or later.  

“Fine then. Kyle, if you could please help me over those puddles?” I picked Dorthy gently up in my shaggy arms and carried her to the truck.

“Maybe the rain will wash away some of that guilt and anger. Then we need to communicate better with each other.” She whispered in my furry ear. I just nodded in agreement.

I pulled the tarp over my partially soggy fur and plopped down in the bed of Knuckle Butt’s old pick-up truck. Suddenly I realized that I wasn’t alone.

“Dorthy told me to keep you company on the ride back.” Peck shook the rain off his feathers and cocked one eye at me with keen interest.

“Pardon, I don’t mean to stare and be rude, but I’ve never seen a werewolf before…up close like this, I mean. The others were always chasing me. Trying to eat me, I guess. Are you a vegetarian then?”

I gave the bird a faint smile, which doesn’t translate as subtle humor very well when I’m in my werewolf state.

“Oh! I forgot. Dorthy said that you can’t talk when you are furry.” Peck said while hanging on to my knee as Knuckle Butt’s truck bounced over the dirt road back to town.

“To keep you company and pass the time I will sing you a raven song from my youth.” He announced over the rain drops and revving of the engine.

“Can ravens sing?” I wondered to privately.

Please dream a raven’s dream.

He’s just a friend

He is just a black bird,

And not an omen.

He is here to lend a hand.

He is here to make you laugh,

He is here to guide you down

The dark and lonely path…

                                             *      *      *

The song went on for quite a while. Long enough for the rain to stop. Also, long enough for us  to roll past Deputy Goodwin and Beerman up on a ridge. They quit watching the Pandemonium Carnival entrance for a minute and checked us out.

In case you were wondering, ravens can’t sing very well, but I appreciated the effort and the fact that they have their own songs. Peck sang several other songs that he said he learned when he belonged to a Merchant Marine captain that sailed the South China Seas. I remember some of those lyrics but chose not to include them at this point in my tale.

I had also gone deep into myself while the bird held forth. I noticed that I was slowly but most certainly changing back into my human form.

“Why did I get so angry at Frank? True, he had betrayed Petey’s friendship and given Big Mary a lot of grief throughout most of their relationship. He had broken the laws of my bike club and had shot Deacon Biggs, Dorthy’s son, in the leg last month.

The thing that I had focused on, however, was Alice shooting Calvin Pryde. I felt another surge of anger just thinking about it again. If I had to be honest, I felt like I had placed her in a dangerous position. She had handled herself superbly. Frank had aimed Calvin at Alice like a weapon. He had injected him with Honky Kong turning the psychopath into a raging super zombie.

Alice had shot him in the head four times with my service .44 before she killed him. He fell at her feet, dead. I was exhausted and wounded from my previous struggle with Naydene’s father whom Calvin had transformed into a killing machine using the same drug. We had to burn Cletus alive to stop his rampage.

I stopped myself in mid-thought for a second.  ‘Alive’. The word flashed before me. Was Cletus alive? He was a zombie before we burned him. Was Calvin alive? Deke had tainted his cigars with pig’s blood that carried the zombie virus. His heart had stopped beating for hours but he was starting to ‘turn’ when Frank injected him.

I must have had some deep remorse over thinking of Alice killing a man. Was Calvin alive…was he a living ‘man’ when Alice pulled the trigger of my weapon. I felt like it had robbed her of her innocence as some poets would have their readers believe. I must have felt responsible for that. Alice, however, didn’t seem to suffer any obvious or lasting effects from the encounter. Maybe Alice thought of him as a dangerous animal or mindless ‘thing’ at the time. Perhaps there is a different perspective I need to reflect on.

“So…no more fur, no more fangs.” Peck rasped. What ’cha thinking Doc? Hope you don’t mind if I call you Doc.” The bird started to straighten and preen his inky feathers.

“You can call me Doc…or Kyle as Dorthy does. You don’t want to know my thoughts right now, friend. Maybe another time. Could you sing another song. It seems to help me organize my thoughts.

Instead, Peck started reciting limericks

Chapter 13 - Revenge of the Autumn People - Old Money

                                                Chapter 13 – Old Money

Beneath the creaking and aged floorboards of my old two-story Victorian home, Alice, Petey, and Naydene shuffled feet and moved slowly through a dim passage. The four explorers were silent as they entered one of the two doors nearest the stairs (the one on the left, after a coin toss had decided their fate).

The only light was provided by two flashlights and an electric lantern. Billy floated close to Naydene and brought up the rear. Every time the old house creaked or popped (as old houses often do) Billy would flinch and vanish for a moment, only to reappear again near Petey or Alice. It took a lot of persuasion to get the little eight-year-old poltergeist into the tunnels under the house once again.

“Billy, you know that you don’t have to do this if it is too stressful.” Alice said in a soothing voice.

“I feel safer with you two. You have a lantern and a flashlight. Plus, you have a gun.” Billy gestured at the service weapon Alice had on her hip. My .45 caliber semiautomatic lay snugly in a worn leather holster strapped to her right leg.

Alice looked at Billy and pursed her lips briefly. “Quiet Billy. I have two lights because I’m searching for ‘Ghost Pirate’ money (which, by now, was code for loose cash left over from bootleg liquor transactions made back in the Prohibition Era). Thus far, nothing more had turned up.

“You’re safer with the two of us Billy.” Naydene whispered. “She couldn’t draw that weapon right now if she needed to. Her hands are full. Plus, Petey’s a werewolf.”

“Yeah, well about that…it would take a few minutes for me to get furry.” Petey mused.

“Why didn’t you change before we came down here then?” Naydene chided Petey. “ At least we could have hung onto your tail in the dark.

“Cripes! I don’t have a tail. I’m a werewolf not an actual wolf. Do I have a tail now?” Unlike Naydene, Petey was always a bit touchy about topics relating to his body. He wasn’t a prude, but he was self-conscious about being skinny. He was a handsome kid and built like a rock star but never overcame the teasing he periodically received from his older brother while growing up.    

“How should I know. I haven’t been with a werewolf before.” Naydene teased.

“Eww! Would the two of you just quit.” Alice whispered.

“Also, my tennis shoes.” Petey continued.

“Huh?” Naydene “What about your shoes?

“When I change, my feet get a lot bigger. These are brand new shoes. I would have to take them off or I would rip them up. That would take more time. Plus, it is dark down here. I could lose them.”

“What else gets bigger when you change?” Naydene snickered.

“Holy Greased Jesus, Naydene! Tone it down in front of the kid.” Alice shouted.

“Technically I’m thirty-one.” Billy said in a matter-of-fact way. “Also, ghosts tend to eves drop quite a bit. I’ve heard a lot worse. Anyway, you don’t have to scream. I thought you said we needed to be quiet. There are other things down here besides the Big Head.”

There was a minute of silence as the four proceeded down the passageway. Then the group stopped.

“Other things? Um, Billy…don’t you think you should have mentioned that before we got this far? What else have you seen besides the Big Head.” The group could hear the tapping of Alice’s motorcycle boot on what now was concrete.

“Look, the floor isn’t dirt anymore.” Naydene trained here flashlight on the ground.

“I haven’t seen anything else, but I have heard plenty. Like loud breathing and laughter.” Billy mumbled.

“We probably should have gotten Doc’s permission before we did this.” Petey whispered. “What’s wrong with my flashlight.”

Alice looked over at Petey. “Looks like your batteries are low. Here take mine. Yours looks about dead.” Petey took Alice’s flashlight.

“We’ve only been down here a couple of minutes. Those batteries must have been old.” Naydene suggested. Switch it off and use the other one.

“It happens when I’m scared.” Billy blurted out.

“What happens?” Alice said sternly.

“I’m a poltergeist. When I get emotional, I drain energy from electrical things.”

“I have a couple of candles.” Naydene pulled two large, tapered candles out of a rucksack she had slung over her shoulder.

The flashlights were shut off to conserve batteries (if that was even possible). The two Candles were lit. Alice kept the lantern blazing. Thus far it wasn’t affected by Billy. Petey suspected it was because of the larger battery that powered it.

The group realized that they might have to cut their excursion short when they encountered a trap door on the concrete floor. "I don't like the idea that things could just pop out of the floor at us down here." Alice said out loud.

"Get the flashlights out again." Alice ordered as she swept the lantern around the tunnel. What began as idle curiosity about the tunnel gave way to something far stranger. A sprawling network of passages with concrete floors. The tunnels were moving deeper into the ground and were much more extensive. Deeper and more extensive than Alice could guess.

“Billy, have you explored any of these tunnels.” Alice asked.

“Yes, we are under the Rodeo Motel right now.” Billy replied.

“We will have to go back soon. The flashlights are almost dead.” Alice said shaking one of them.

“I’m sorry.” Billy said simply.

Alice blew out her breath and inhaled. The air smelled musty and there was a slight odor of rust.

“Why didn’t you tell me this would happen.” Alice demanded.

“I didn’t want to be left by myself in the house. I didn't want to be alone. And I didn’t want all of you wandering around getting lost. I’ve explored these tunnels for years. Besides, if I’ve absorbed some of the flashlight’s energy, I can do this, see.” Billy started to glow faintly and then brighter still.

Naydene whooped. “Bring Billy over here.”

Amidst the walls lined with mildew and rotting timber Billy and Alice swept the floor with light. Scattered throughout the passageways were bundles of cash. Old bills, yellowed with age and stained with water, were on the floors. Billy glowed brighter as Alice, Petey and Naydene looked about.

Bills wrapped in wax paper and stamped with dates from the 1920s were crammed into alcoves like offerings. The money was real, but its presence felt wrong. Like it was bait. Perhaps temptation for something long ago.

Alice’s eyes bugged out of her head. She looked at Petey and Naydene. “How much do you think is down here? Just in this passage, I mean.

“These are bundles of fifties. Looks like some bundles of hundreds. Fifty to a bundle. And the floor and walls are littered with them.” Petey said, as Naydene started shoving bundles into her rucksack.

Billy started to become agitated. “Listen!” he shouted.

The group fell silent. Something human-sized was moving towards them from the direction they had come. At the same time, they could hear faint movement among the piles of cash. Then the piles shifted and spilled onto the floor.

 A large shape charged at Alice from the direction they had entered this new area with so many other tunnels. She drew her gun and pulled back the hammer on the .45.

Petey sniffed the air and screamed “Alice! No, Stop!”

The shaggy form of my golden retriever, Annie, came out of the shadows followed by Chester who bounded out of one of the alcoves knocking free stacks of Ghost Pirate booty. Eighteen pounds of feline grace bounded up and rubbed on Petey’s legs

Annie barked twice and licked Alice’s face as she holstered my service weapon. Petey carried Chester as he walked across piles of cash, each bundle of fifty bills wrapped in old wax paper. He swiveled his head in the direction of the other tunnels. He stalked over to the point where three of the tunnels began. He sniffed the entrance of each one.

Naydene paused, her sack nearly full of old bills. Alice approached Petey.

“What is it?” Alice whispered breathlessly. It was so quiet she could hear ground water seeping through the building foundations above.

“Could be noise from the motel.” Said Billy, who had floated over. “Sound carries a long way in these tunnels.”

Then came the sound of laughter from a tunnel directly in front of them. It was shrill and unsettling. The laughter came from a region much deeper than they already were.

“Well, this concludes the Ghost Pirate treasure hunter experience. Please tell your friends.” Alice said tensely. “Billy. Lead us out.”

“Whoa up!” Naydene shouted. She was struggling with the rucksack. Even with both arms she could barely drag the bag along the concrete.

“Petey walked over. “Trade you.” He handed Chester to Naydene and then threw the bag over one shoulder with ease.

“Werewolf strength.” Alice muttered. “Once saw Doc lift and drag your old truck across the street and into our garage by himself.” She said to Naydene.

She looked at Petey for validation. “Yeah, but Doc works out. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Petey said and then winked at Naydene.

“Are we pirates now or something?” Naydene asked. She had finally got tired of lugging Chester like a basket of laundry and threw him over her shoulder.

“Nope!” Petey answered.

“What are we then?” said Billy as he floated down the tunnel leading to the basement.

“Rich.” Said Alice as she scratched Annie’s ears. Then she started whistling “Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest”. Soon the others joined in. 

Meet the Author - James R. Nevitt

 

Meet the author - James R. Nevitt - Jim is a Professor Emeritus of Psychology at Peru State College in Nebraska where he taught courses with provocative titles like Addictions and Analysis of Evil. He now is content to herd cats, cook and be a caretaker in the same small town he taught in for twenty years. Occasionally he writes fiction. Nevitt has lived in small towns his entire life and finds small town sociology fascinating. He enjoys time with his wife, DiAnna, his pets, being outdoors and reading fantasy, horror and any other form of fiction that gives him a "down the rabbit hole" experience. 

Chapter 12 - Revenge of the Autumn People - Hunting Peck

                      Chapter 12 – Hunting Peck

The sun baked the parched earth just outside of the little town of Dusk Thorne. Josiah Pandemonium’s carnival had sprung up like a mirage overnight. Off in the horizon intermingled with the glare of the afternoon sun there were real mirages, heat waves bending and distorting the light such that a traveler might be tricked into seeing streams of water just a half mile up the road.

Dust spiraled in a lazy manner around a carousel and some of the midway tents. The air, thick with heat and the cloying sweetness of spun sugar, drove many in attendance to seek shade.  Popcorn kettles hissed, and the scent of fried dough cut through the midway and made a beeline for my nostrils. Children darted between tents. Their shrill laughter a counterpoint to the sound of a wheezing calliope.

“Dorthy, you know Peck better than I. Take a minute. Can you suggest where he might be?” I looked up at the western horizon as I spoke. I saw thunderheads gathering over the mountains and heard the low rumble of a storm in the distance.

“Jacob said that Peck was part of the carnival now.” Knuckle Butt’s eyes were suddenly drawn to a fortune teller’s booth. Hanging around the tent were Tarot card flags bearing images of the cards of the major arcana. A large sign read “Lady Fortuna – Tarot Readings, Tea Leaf and Palm Readings – Fortunes Told”.  “What possible use would a carnival have for a pet Raven?” The old biker mused.

“Peck is more than just my pet. He is my familiar and animal guide. Our magical abilities complement each other. I haven’t been at full power for years during his absence.” Dorthy remarked.

“Okay, any idea where he might be? If that storm travels this way, it will cause the carnival to close until after it passes by.” I eyed the sky to the west once again.

“Stroll around until you find a game of chance. Certainly, in a place like this here must be gambling going on.” Dorthy suggested.

“We can cover more ground if we split up.” Knuckle Butt reasoned. “I’ll go over towards the fortune teller’s booth. You ‘all go the other way. We can meet up at the Ferris Wheel.” So it was agreed that the group would split up.

Knuckle Butt sauntered past canvas awnings that sagged in the heat and rows of jars and milk bottles stacked upon each other as a hoarse barker offered stuffed bears and glass-eye dolls in exchange for one more toss or one more throw. Nearby a boy wearing a patch over one eye threw knives at targets as the crowd around him applauded. It seemed the fellow never missed.

Nearby a carousel groaned through another slow revolution. The chipped horses aboard seemed to be frozen in frantic motion; their manes caught in some eternal breeze. Suddenly Knuckle Butt saw a motorcycle that looked familiar. Parked next to the fortune-teller’s tent, it was a Harley Davidson soft tail. He noticed it was a late seventies model with a blue flame job on the tear-shaped gas tank. He thought that he had spotted this same bike a month ago around town. At the time, a powerfully built woman, a member of my bike club from Louisiana, Big Mary Zimbardo, had been riding it. The bike now had Colorado plates, however.

                                                          *      *      *

Past the fortune teller’s booth was a larger tent. The side flaps had been propped open for maximum air flow that afternoon but now were dropped in anticipation of a summer storm descending from the mountains. Popcorn carts had been shuttered, and the Ferris Wheel lights had been dimmed. There was an odor of engine grease and gasoline from a huge nearby generator.  A quartet huddled over a battered and bare card table. As I stepped into the tent, I could smell the tang of cigar smoke curling from a half full ashtray.

Dana Preston had chased me all the way from the Old Well exhibit. She shoved a note into my hand that had been dictated by Jacob, the scaley green resident of the Old Well. Dorthy read it aloud. It said:

Dorthy,

You left before I could tell you about Peck’s situation. He was found at the carnival last season seventeen years ago stunned and on the ground. The two workers that found him initially thought he was dead, struck by a car. When he came back to consciousness he was disoriented. Some of us noticed that he didn’t behave like an ordinary pet bird. I remembered that you once told me about a pet raven that was your companion, and I became suspicious.

Then a week later Peck started to talk. It was obvious from listening to him that this was no ordinary exotic pet bird. He wasn’t squawking random phrases or just repeating words that he had heard the workers shout out. I know an enchanted animal when I hear one. No doubt, this was your raven. Several of the mechanics that travel with us adopted him. A new guy that joined up with the carney recently bought him for a lot of money off the knife thrower…the one with the eye patch.

The bird seems to have some useful skills. Unfortunately, there are people that might try to take advantage of him. You will find him hanging out with the mechanics in the large tent near the fortune teller’s booth. I know you can handle yourself. Better take the werewolf with you for back up.  Geet and the new guy can be real assholes. I sent Dana with the note because she told me that she was looking to ‘get out’ of Pandemonium’s Carnival. She is a good kid, but she will need help. Do this for her and I can grant a wish for you if you ever need one.

Yours truly, Living’ Large in a stone hole in the ground,

Jacob Hornsby

Dana, Dorthy and I entered the tent. A sudden clap of thunder resounded throughout the carnival grounds. The quartet playing cards barely looked up. A raven, glossy as wet ink, flapped its wings and tapped its beak on the table.

“I call.” Then the raven made an annoying clacking sound. It was perched smugly on an orange crate. The bird had a leash attached to its leg. The other end of the tether was wrapped around the wrist of a ragged looking worker, who was slumped, head on chest, asleep.

Dana pointed to the pair and whispered. “That is the new guy. He just bought the raven last week. Now all that he does is play cards and drink.”

“Looks to me like the bird plays cards and all the new guy does is drink.” I whispered back.

Dorthy whispered, “Peck used to belong to a professional gambler named Southside Monte Matthews. I brought him back from death’s door…he contracted the zombie virus from his wife. I cured her too. Neither were too far gone when they came to me. In payment, he offered me money or Peck. I took Peck. Monte didn’t know Peck wasn’t an ordinary raven. Peck never talked around Monte and told me later that he was grateful that I adopted him and gave him a stable home. He was very close to Deacon, my son as well.”

Claxton Geet, a portly man with many tattoos on his arms looked at Peck. Claxton had a large walrus mustache and terrible luck with cards. Most of his friends had told him that he was the unluckiest person they had ever seen at the card table. This was fortunate for Peck, because the bird was cheating. Southside Monte had taught him how to count cards.  Peck’s aptitude at most games of chance surpassed that of most people on the street or at a carnival for that matter.

Claxton threw his cards down. “Three queens!” he challenged.

“Flush, in hearts!” The bird laughed.

“It ain’t natural.” The fire-eater said to Claxton.

“Oh, what Martin? You think I’ve got something up my sleeve?” Peck joked.

“Birds don’t have any tells.” Said Pamela, the only female mechanic in the carnival.

Claxton said in mock disgust, “Must be sleight of wing.”

Dorthy cleared her throat. “Peck, are you about ready to come home?”

Peck looked up. “Dorthy.” He said in a raspy voice. “Thank the stars. Cut me loose before this bozo wakes up.”

Knuckle Butt walked through the tent flap as the thunder roared again. This time loud enough to shake the carnival grounds. Peck’s new owner didn’t stir. Knuckle Butt read the note I handed to him. I kept an eye on the largest member of the poker game, Claxton. He studied my face.

“Something tells me this one could be trouble.” The fire-eater said. He started to rise.

“You have no idea how much. Just sit your ass back down. This doesn’t concern you or your money.

“You mean my money, don’t you Doc?” Peck’s owner woke up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Frank?” I said in amazement. “Frank Saunders!” Sitting before me was a former member of my old bike club, "The Seven".

“In the flesh.” he said. With one hand, he reached for the money on the table. With the other he drew a .38 caliber pistol from the waistband of his jeans. He pointed the gun at my chest.