Taming the Night
Book One of Creatures of the Night
By: Tisha Wilson
Chapter One ~
Alicia took a drag from her cigarette as she looked up at the moon. It was a crescent tonight. The moon didn’t have to be full for the night to be wicked. The sky could be dark as the inside of a raven’s wing and still, evil would haunt the night. She’d felt the evil gathering for some time. It was strong in this little backwoods town. She’d been drawn here like a moth to a flame.
Did that make her evil as well? She’d asked herself that question a million times over the past few years. The same answer always came to her. A small smile curved her lips as she allowed the ensuing battle to flood her veins with adrenaline. She certainly wasn’t innocent.
Throwing the butt of her cigarette to the ground and allowing her boot to crush it, she flung her leg over the seat of her custom-made Harley. It was lower to the ground to accommodate her smaller frame, but it was still a piece of machinery to behold. By all rights it should’ve been too large a bike for her slender frame.
She kicked the beast to life and let it purr between her legs. Riding this monster was as close to sex as she’d get with her clothes on. She took a moment to unzip her coat so it’d be easier to get to her guns. Her pants, bustier, and duster were made of black leather. Leather held up best during battle, and she looked bad ass in it.
She sped through the night allowing her hair to blow out behind her, a midnight flag in the wind. The air was stifling. Even though she was traveling at well over eighty miles an hour, it felt like the air was barely moving.
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck picked up. It started as a slow tingling sensation. Soon her entire body was alive with adrenaline. Taking a deep breath, she savored the feel. The fight was coming.
There were very few times when she felt alive anymore. Even fewer times when she could truly be herself. She had to present a front to the world so they wouldn’t try to lock her up. Phony smiles and mediocre conversation were her normal lately. But not here. She didn’t have to hold back here. During the fight she could release the wild inside her and she relished it.
Just as that thought passed through her mind the wind ceased to roar. The animals occupying the woodlands ceased in their noisy chatter. The night fell as silent as a tomb. From her peripheral a shadow moved in the trees. Trees shook at the roadside that had nothing to do with the wind. The shadows of the dark ones slid easily along with her.
The smile on her face became one of anticipation and she licked her lips. It was time. Revving the motorcycle to a higher speed, she was ready to be in the midst of the fight. Just as she neared her destination, she saw the very last thing she needed to see. Her heart slammed against her rib cage and she cursed out loud. Her smile faded as she realized it was too late to prevent the innocent from being involved in this fight.
* * *
Officer Jerry Cayman sat in his cruiser sweltering to death. What he wouldn’t give for a cruiser he could leave running. He missed the cruisers in the city. Those could be left running with the air conditioning going, the radio blazing, and his laptop booted up without even a blip on the batteries radar. That was in Durham. This was Taming, North Carolina.
Groaning, he tugged at the collar of his uniform. What he wouldn’t give for something icy to drink. Moving through this humidity was like living in slow motion. He looked over at the mounted police issued laptop. At least it was newer than the cruiser, which wasn’t saying much. Moses had probably used this car to herd goats. He had the momentary desire to turn on the laptop to distract him from the motionless boredom of the night, but didn’t want to risk draining the battery in this old hunk of junk.
He picked up the mic and keyed up.
“This is 536 performing a mic check.”
“You just did a mic check half an hour ago 536. Your mic’s working just fine. Stay off the air unless it’s official business, boss.”
Jerry slammed the mic back into its holster. He would bring in a recording of crickets chirping to play over the mic but it wasn’t necessary. All he had to do was open the mic and hold it out to the woods.
The crickets chirped so loud out here sometimes it was deafening. The crickets, frogs and night birds usually sang in a soft and peaceful cacophony. On nights like this, when there was not even a car in sight, their song was loud and incongruous.
It was as if the insects and animals were competing to see who could make the loudest noise. He would roll up his window but that’d be tantamount to suicide in this heat. He didn’t feel like being reamed out again by his sergeant for wasting police gas to, as Sergeant Gerald put it, ‘Fan his hide like some fancy lady.’
“Just wanted to let ‘em know I was still breathing,” he mumbled to himself irritably as he dug his phone out.
Plugging in his earbuds, he let heavy metal drown out the night sounds as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He imagined if he went to sleep for the rest of the night no one would be the wiser. Maybe two thousand people populated Taming. Those people decided, in unison, that nine thirty was the hour to turn out the lights and go to sleep.
In fact, save for the full moon crazies and hunting season enthusiasts, there was barely a car to drive on these old roads past ten o’clock. There were a few town drunks, but even if they tried to drive home, Sergeant Gerald would give them an escort and make sure they were tucked in for the night. Everyone here knew everyone else. It was a rare occasion when someone was actually arrested.
In fact. The only time Jerry had to arrest someone in the year since coming here, was when there was abuse of a woman or child involved. That was something Chief Hernandez had little tolerance for. The Chief preferred to have a low crime rate, and so sought other means besides jail and court to keep townspeople out of trouble.
It was a wild west mentality. The law was what the Chief said it was, but no one seemed to mind. At least not anyone willing to go up against the Chief. Jerry felt a stab of hunger in his gut as he sat up and looked at his phone. It was two am.
He’d possibly dozed for a moment, so decided to get up and move around. Then he’d get back in his car and head over to the diner. The all-night diner was the one oddity in this sleepy town. Paul Santo decided keeping his gas and diner open all night would double the money he made off truckers who ventured this far off the main road. His pride and joy was the sign he’d put up on the highway. It had lights giving directions to his restaurant and gas station.
Jerry heaved a sigh of frustration as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. He took out his earphones, put them in their case and tossed them to the seat before slamming the door. Leaning against the car he stretched his muscles in one languid movement.
The weight of his utility belt fell comfortably around his hips and he shook his head. When he’d worked in the city, the weight had been a constant reminder of the authority entrusted to him. Here, it was a constant reminder of how far he’d fallen.
He’d been a sergeant on his way to being a lieutenant in Durham. He’d had a job he couldn’t wait to go to and a wife to die for. Well at least it seemed that way in the beginning. Cherish was beautiful and vital when he’d met her and he’d fallen hard.
It was too bad he hadn’t seen her true ugliness until it was too late. She wrapped her hooks in him and when he’d tried to pull away, she shredded his good and happy life. Just thinking of her made him want to find a deep hole and a good bottle.
Maybe he could hide in said hole until Cherish decided to stop being angry with him. Maybe when he emerged from that hole, she would’ve forgotten her anger towards him. Maybe the good Senator, her father, wouldn’t block his application at every major city police department on the East Coast. Maybe hell would freeze over, and the devil could go ice skating.
He glanced at his empty ring finger. He’d gotten his divorce after a long and bloody battle. Now he was wondering if it might’ve been better to stay married the way she wanted. He had nothing left. This was career hell. This was the type of place cops came to retire and fade away into obscurity.
He was about to turn to get back into his cruiser when the night went silent. His hand on the door handle, he looked back towards the woods. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he turned away from the car. The moon was a silver sliver in the sky. It was a clear night, but he reached for the heavy flashlight that dangled from his utility belt. Clicking it on he scanned the area surrounding his car.
He took a few steps towards the woods as he listened for any noise. Dry leaves and pine straw crunched beneath his boots. His hand crept instinctively towards his gun. He ordered his heart to stop pounding as he watched the trees.
There was something. It was faint at first but getting louder. It sounded like… like branches being snapped. Something was running through the woods. Whatever it was, it was coming fast.
He wanted to turn and make his way back to the car. If it was some type of bear or other large wild animal, he’d be mauled before he could get there. Like a deer frozen in the headlights, he waited for whatever it was to burst from the trees at any second.
In a moment of insane clarity he realized, if this was a scary movie, he would’ve been yelling at the screen telling that stupid cop to get his ass moving. Even as he told himself this his feet stayed stubbornly rooted where they were.
He watched, waited, sure something would burst into the clearing any second. He felt coiled, ready to attack. The noise stopped short of the clearing where his cruiser lay. He wasn’t breathing and didn’t recall drawing his weapon.
The cold steel was a comfort in his palm. There was a feeling of dread in him.
Something bad was about to happen.
Before his next thought could come, a motorcycle shot by like a bolt of lightning. It whipped by so fast, he didn’t see the color of the bike or get a good description of the rider. All he heard was the roar of an engine distinct to a motorcycle as it sped past. Snapping out of the stupor he’d been in he finally moved his feet and ran for the cruiser.
He’d been sitting out here alone in these woods too long. Pushing the gun in its holster, he slammed the flashlight home and slid into the car snapping the seat belt in place. The action took less than thirty seconds. He cranked the car to life and hopped on the mic.
“536 to control. I have a 318 in progress. A motorcycle of unknown color and unknown tags heading west on Highway seven doing about a hundred. Check me in pursuit.”
“Christ in a cartoon! I copy that 536. 512, did you read that?”
Jerry rolled his eyes. The sergeant in charge had to approve a chase.
“I heard ‘im,” Sergeant Gerald answered. “536. Don’t you go on any high speed chases. Those roads are dangerous. Just let em go. They’re almost to Fairfax by now. That’s not our jurisdiction.”
“I copy sir but we can pursue up to three miles in another jurisdiction. This guy is trying to break sound barriers on that bike.”
“You have your orders. Just follow ‘im out of town. Lou. Raise Fairfax and make sure they’re waiting.”
Jerry cursed the lazy old man. He was probably sitting out in the woods somewhere with a jelly donut to further distend his round gut. Gerald should’ve retired long ago, and probably would’ve if he wasn’t so loyal to the Chief.
“I copy sergeant,” the dispatcher replied in a voice rough from too many years of cigars and pipes.
There was a slight tint of disappointment in Lou’s voice over the loss of a little bit of excitement. Lou put Jerry in mind of one of those people who sat around listening to their CB radios all day, waiting to see if someone would find their channel and start up a conversation.
“Did you hear what I said?” the sergeant growled over the mic and Jerry knew he wasn’t talking to Lou.
“I copy. I’ll follow at a distance and make sure the motorcycle leaves town. That’s all,” he responded.
He clicked on his blue lights and siren and hit the gas. The old car might not’ve looked like much. In the spirit of the crown vic, however, when he hit the gas the engine purred and pulled the car to an alarming speed. He was afraid the engine would detach and go running ahead without him. He reveled in the speed of the chase as the rear lamps of the motorcycle finally came back into view.
The bike was getting close to the mile marker that indicated the end of Taming and the beginning of Fairfax. He cursed. He at least wanted to give the motorcycle a ticket. At the speed it was going, he’d be lucky to even catch up to it within the three mile limit. Just when the bike would’ve crossed over, it veered off to the right. Rocks and dirt kicked up behind it.
Jerry picked up his mic as he hit the little dirt road with a hard right. The car nearly fishtailed. Something dug into his back side as the car jostled and he remembered his earbud case belatedly. As he fought to regain control of the car he dug around beneath him. He caught the case and tossed it aside with a muttered curse.
The car finally corrected, and he took off after the bike before keying up.
“536 control.”
“Go ahead 536.”
“We’ve changed direction. The bike veered off down a dirt road to the right of mile marker 118. I’m in pursuit.”
“Are those sirens I hear!”
Jerry rolled his eyes again.
“I hit them when the bike almost fishtailed in the gravel trying to take this dirt road,” he replied to his sergeant.
“Damn it, Jerry. I told you, no chase. The back road probably leads to that old boy’s house. Let him get home and sleep it off. We’ll go and talk to him in the mornin’.”
The Crown Vic went airborne for a moment as he hit a dirt clod. As he landed, he struggled for control of the steering wheel, the rear tires sliding around a little. It took him a moment to reply.
“I’m going to make sure he gets home and stays there. It won’t take me long and I’ll check in with you when I’m through,” he said.
The motorcyclist was skilled. He dodged clumps of grass and rocks like they were nothing while Jerry’s car took a bit of a beating. He wasn’t giving up though. He stayed on the cycle the best he could. It had been a long time since his blood pumped like this.
“Boy! You’re gonna learn the hard way to let those old codgers go to their houses and sleep it off. You’re going to make me arrest someone tonight. You’re always trying to make me arrest someone.”
This was no old codger. The suspect’s leather duster flew out behind him menacingly. The long hair that flew out behind him suggested he might be a biker. A little slender for a biker, but he’d seen smaller men. Those that patronized the biker bar on the edge of town rarely came to this part of the woods, though. What was he doing out here?
“That’s sort of our job,” he snapped before he could censor his tongue.
The Chief was bound to hear about this before morning. He could scarcely care. The moment demanded his full attention. The repercussions would have to be dealt with later.
“Well, I’m not going to be the one to deliver you to your uncle in a body bag, not on my watch. You do what I tell you or switch to days so he can watch over you!”
That hit home. The Police Chief in Taming was also his uncle and the only reason he still had a job in law enforcement. The last thing he wanted to do was upset him. Jerry clicked off his siren but let his blue lights blare on as he hit the mic button again.
“Control. I’m no longer in pursuit. I’m in route to the diner,” he said as docile as he could manage.
Gerald wasn’t fooled.
“If I don’t see you there within the half hour I’m calling the Chief,” he said without preamble.
“I copy,” he snarled as he pushed the gas a little harder.
So be it. He was tired of being censored for trying to do his job. He was a cop and a damn good one. He’d follow this punk into the ground if he had to. The motorcycle was just ahead of him now. Jerry was about to back off a bit when the motorcycle hit its brakes.
He had to maneuver not to hit him. He hit the brakes so hard the car whizzed by the bike and did a near one eighty, skidding in the loose dirt.
Once he got his bearings he slammed the car in park, unfastened his seat belt, stood in the apex of the car door, and drew his weapon. The biker stood, removed his helmet and laid it on the seat of the bike. As the dust began to settle Jerry’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
This was no biker. This was a woman, and not just any woman. She wore tight alligator skin pants, a slip of black material that might’ve been called a shirt, over which she had a black leather duster. She was of medium height and a petite frame and her straight black hair hung past her butt. The bone structure in her face hinted at Native heritage but her skin was a creamy mocha.
The most shocking thing about her was her violet, nearly purple, eyes. He’d never in his life seen such a sexually beautiful creature. It was hard to compose speech for a moment as he appraised her. Once he got over the initial shock his police training kicked in again.
“Suspect. Get down on the ground with your hands above your head and don’t move,” he said in a commanding voice.
Al’s first impression of the uniform was not one she would’ve expected. At least not for this little backwoods town. He was a diamond in the rough. Tall, at least six feet four inches, and lean with just the right amount of muscle.
A clean shaven man who appeared to be of Caucasian descent, but with a tan to his skin and black hair. Perhaps he had some type of ethnicity in his background. His brown eyes were sharp as he trained his weapon on her.
“Cher. I don’t get on the ground for no man, lessin’ he’s plannin’ on comin’ down there with me,” she said, her Creole accent heavy.
She nearly laughed at the look on his face. So serious.
“Are you refusing the direct order of a police officer?” he asked in that tone cops used to try to take control of a situation.
She shook her head feeling bad for him. He had no idea what was about to happen, but she did. All too well.
“Naw. I’m just sayin’ it aint very courteous or gentlemanly of you to be askin’ a lady to get down on the ground, in the dirt, like a dog. D’accord?”
She began to remove her gloves and waited for the tell tell signs of an over anxious cop. If he was going to lose his cool his finger would begin to tighten uncomfortably on the trigger of his gun. He didn’t move a muscle as he thought over her words. She saw him come to some sort of conclusion.
“Turn around and put your hands in the air as you slowly back towards me,” he changed his directive.
She couldn’t help but grin at this.
“Well, well. Chivalry ain't all the way dead anyhow,” she teased.
“Ma’am. I said turn around and put your hands in the air,” he repeated with more force.
He was handsome with his strong hands and serious face. If he weren’t a cop she might’ve had a go at him. Maybe she would anyway and risk Bateman’s wrath later. Her mentor hated her to get involved with law enforcement. It made the clean up much harder.
“Don’t get your cute buns in a twist. I heard you the first time, but if you’re gonna slap cuffs on me, then who’s gonna help you with them?”
Jerry told himself not to look in the direction to which her gaze shifted. It was obviously a ruse. There was nothing and no one in this deep part of the woods but him, her, and the birds. Still, he saw the tension that entered her body as she looked that way. She was preparing for a battle. Her actions caused him to briefly glance to his left.
At first glance he saw nothing, but then… deep in the foliage he saw it. Two dots glowing red in the dark. It was like the reflection of a dog’s eyes. Instead of the iridescent green glow, however, these eyes were starkly and menacingly red.
He swung his gun that way. The creature stepped out into the moonlight at the edge of the clearing they were in. His heart hammered in his chest as he struggled to see what it was. It was big as a grizzly but the nose was wrong. It was a dog’s snout, and the arms and legs didn’t look like a grizzly’s. The arms and legs looked like… like a very hairy human.
He blinked a few times in stunned silence as he watched it move steadily forward. Was he dreaming? Was he still sitting in his car on the side of the road asleep? Had the heat finally rotted his brain? His police training took over his stalled brain.
Before he even knew what was happening he was shooting. As far as he could tell he was making direct body hits. The thing only paused as slugs hit it. The bullets enrage it. His magazine was empty and there wouldn’t be time to reload before it reached him.
He heard someone screaming as he closed his eyes. He braced himself for the attack. Who the hell was screaming? He remembered the woman and suddenly the screaming stopped. He realized with a start it’d been his own voice screaming like a frightened girl.
On the heels of that thought was the realization that instead of having his arm ripped off, he heard a blast come from somewhere near the hood of his car. He opened his eyes to see the monster fall clutching its chest as it burst into flames. The stench coming off the burning body was putrid and he covered his nose with the back of his hand.
He turned to see the woman standing up on the hood of his car. She’d pulled the flaps of her jacket back to reveal a small arsenal of guns, knives, bullets and grenades. For the second time his jaw nearly hit the floor. She had two guns, both the size of cannons, one in each hand, and was taking aim into the woods. As she fired again he turned to see two more figures in the woods burst into flames.
“What the hell are those things and who the hell are you?” he asked as he turned back to her.
“Right now, Cherie… I’m here to save your tight little ass. That’s all you need to know,” she said as she turned those piercing violet eyes on him.
Her little smile did something to his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. She tossed one of her cannons at him. He was shocked by the weight as he caught it.
“What the hell! Are you crazy, you don’t just go tossing loaded weapons at people! I could’ve shot something important off trying to catch this thing,” he yelled.
She laughed in the face of his concern, and he knew his face had turned red.
“That’ll work a little better than your police issued pistol I think, Cher. Hopefully you’re better at shootin’ than you are at gettin’ people to lie down in the dirt,” she said with a wink.
He was still staring at her in astonishment when she turned and shot into the woods. Her boots left dents in the hood of the Crown Vic. He was about to say so when he saw one of the creatures come running out of the woods at her back. He took aim and pulled the trigger.
The kickback nearly tore his arm off as it knocked him on his ass. He scrambled back up to his feet to see he’d hit his target and it was burning in the grass. He smiled up at her and saw her roll her eyes.
“Good job, Stud, but you might wanna watch your own back.”
Jerry turned just in time to see another creature burst through the trees. It released a blood curdling snarl. It was so close Jerry had to cover his ears. When it was through, it came at him like a freight train. He took aim and fired. Blood, ash and saliva burst in his face. Another scream came from his right. He turned in time to see two attack the biker woman simultaneously.
The creatures had left the woods so swiftly, they hit her like linebackers. Breaking branches and crashing trees indicated more of them were on the way. Jumping up on the hood, he found the spot where the creatures were dragging the woman and took aim. He didn’t want to hit her, but these things were about to tear her to shreds.
He took two shots. He smiled when he hit his mark and they burst into flames. Before he could celebrate, he was hoisted into the air. He saw the woman get to her feet, a deep gash in her face. She had a feral angry look as she shot the beast that had gotten a hold of him.
The thing was about to toss him like a stone across his car. Instead, he fell to the ground and rushed to his feet to avoid getting burned by the rancid smelling body. He just gained his feet when he was hit on the right side. He was hit so hard he fell into his car across the front seat. Jesus.
The gun was knocked from his hand into the floorboard and the creature was on him. Jerry used all the strength in his arms to keep the thing off. He cried out as it leaned down digging into his shoulders with its big claws. It was slimy to his touch and stank of dead bloated flesh. It breathed on him as it got closer and closer, its rows of razor sharp teeth inches from his face.
He turned away and realized too late the move left his neck open and exposed for the creature to rip out. This was it. This was the end of his life. Here, in this old broken-down cruiser with this big stinky freak show chomping on him like a buffet. Just when his strength was going to give out the creature burst into flames. He hurried to push it out and slam the door. The biker woman slid into the passenger side and closed the door behind her.
He was about to ask her if she was all right when he noticed the smooth skin of her face. Hadn’t he seen a big gash there a few minutes ago? She took one look at him and reached for his shirt. She unbuttoned his uniform shirt and began to pull it from his pants. And then down his arms.
“Is this the part of the dream where we make out?” he asked.
Why he said it he didn’t know. Maybe his brain had shut down with shock. She laughed a husky laugh that did all sorts of things to him. He had too many emotions running through him all at once. Adrenaline, fright, arousal.
He didn’t know what to latch on to so found himself focusing on her beautiful face. She was more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. Her beauty was at odds with the hellion he’d seen standing on the hood of his car, looking like an Amazonian Warrior.
“I’m afraid this is not that kind of dream, Shug.”
She pulled a knife and began to cut his shirt into strips. His arousal turned to trepidation as he saw the size of the knife. His police issued pistol was lying out on the ground, and he had only his flashlight and baton for defense. He was a flashlight cop at the moment. He swallowed hard to which she chuckled again.
“Not to worry, Mon Petit. It ain’t that kinda dream either.”
She slipped the huge knife back in her boot and he was surprised it fit. The thing didn’t look like it should be able to fit next to the slender ankle. She leaned forward and quickly bandaged the wounds on his shoulders and forearms. He hadn’t realized how much blood he’d lost and was suddenly lightheaded.
“It’s okay if you want to sleep now,” she said.
“Sleep? Are you crazy? What the hell were those things?” he asked, trying to keep his wits about him.
Her hands brushed him in certain places where she tied bandages. When she was finished, she looked away from him out the passenger side window. She said a curse as she reached across him and buckled his seat belt. Something hit the car with the force of a jumbo jet.
He saw dirt and then sky and then dirt and then sky as glass shattered and seemed to rain all around him. When the car finally stopped, he felt blood trickle from his nose. He blinked as his ears buzzed. He wanted to sink into darkness but the cop in him wouldn’t allow it. His first thought was for the woman who’d reached across him to buckle him in, forsaking her own safety. His head, neck, and shoulders screamed against the motion, but he turned to the passenger seat.
He nearly threw up. She was draped across the back of the bench seat as if she were laying on her stomach, slung over someone’s shoulder, only she wasn’t on her stomach. She was on her back. There was no way she survived. Just as that thought hit him he saw her foot twitch. When she lifted her arms and pushed her broken back up off the chair he leaned far away from her against his door, stifling another unmanly scream.
“What the hell is going on?!” he said a hair too loud.
A growl outside the front windshield, which was now shattered into a million pieces, took his attention from his passenger. Just as he turned to look, the monster crashed down on the hood. There was blasting from her side of the car and he watched the mutated beast burst into flame.
“I crashed. I was chasing you on your motorcycle and I ran right into a tree and I’m dying on the side of the road. I should’ve given more to charity. I should’ve helped old ladies across the street or something. This is my penance, purgatory, whatever, right?
“Or maybe it’s just a joke. Is my uncle watching somewhere? Are there cameras hidden because I-“
He stopped rambling when the beautiful woman with the violet eyes reached over and slapped him across the face. He paused for a moment to collect himself. His racing thoughts settled after the slap. Trying to get a handle on what was happening would be easier with more information.
There just seemed to be too much happening at once. He looked out towards the woods and his heart nearly stopped. The red glowing eyes were everywhere. He swallowed all his fright and attempted a clear thought again.
“Okay. You’re right. I deserved that. What the hell is going on?” he asked her in a calmer tone.
Al watched him. So far he’d kept a far cooler head than some of the other innocents she’d dealt with. Most of them would be passed out cold by now, especially at the sight of their own blood. She’d been impressed by the way he handled himself with that wolf. Most wouldn’t have tried to fight back, not against such a grotesque looking beast.
It was amazing he hadn’t been bitten and she was grateful for that. He was too beautiful of a man to turn into one of the ugly creatures. She would’ve had to shoot him.
“This isn’t a joke and you’ve been in a car crash,” she answered both honestly and evasively.
She was taken a little aback by the look he gave her. It was a look that said she was full of it and they both knew it.
“I haven’t been in a crash. My car was sitting still when one of those… those… whatever they are hit it, so I ask again. What the hell is going on?” he asked.
She shrugged as she dug in her jacket pocket. She found what she was looking for and held it out to him. Jerry looked at the device. He wasn’t a bomb expert but it looked like a detonator, complete with cheesy red button. There should be a little sticker around it that said ‘push here to blow shit up.’ He looked at her and the number of grenades she had strapped to her chest, then back out to the glowing eyes coming out of the woods.
“You may do the honors if you like, Mon Cher,” she said.
He turned back to her and gave her his best ‘do I look stupid to you’ stare.
“No thank you. I didn’t sign on for the death then forty virgin package deal. Some men go for that sort of thing but… I’m good,” he answered.
She looked like she didn’t follow for a moment until he motioned at the grenades on her chest. She laughed. It was a husky sultry laugh that whispered to his senses.
“Honey. You get the strangest ideas about thangs. I aint gonna blow us up. I’ll have to remember that whole forty virgins line. You’re funny.”
“Then what-“ before he could say another word she pressed the button.
The entire clearing was filled with a blinding light. He closed his eyes but not before the light filled his vision and searing pain saturated the back of his retinas.
“My eyes,” he cried out.
He heard the creatures scream from around the car and smelled that putrid smell of death as they fried. When the light finally dimmed, he tried to open his eyes but to no avail.
“I can’t see,” he screamed to the woman that had been in the car.
There was only silence. He pushed past the pain and did his best to open his eyes. He managed a small slit only to find himself completely alone in the stark silence.
“536,” the radio blared and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “This is 512 attempting to raise 536, respond.”
He picked up the mic with a shaking hand.
“This is 536.”
“Your thirty minutes are up. You better be here in the next ten seconds or-”
Jerry stopped paying attention as he searched the floorboard for her gun. It was gone. Even though he wasn’t steady on his feet he opened his car door and stumbled forward. He went to where her motorcycle had been when he’d pulled her over. There were dozens of crisscrossing tracks. It was hard to say how many people had been dirt biking back here in recent days.
He found his gun and holstered it, but that was all he found. There were a few piles of burnt ash here and there. At worst, it looked like any other area where teens would come to have bonfires. Perhaps a hang out for the local drunks.
People would laugh him all the way back to Durham if he told them what he’d seen. Suddenly his head was spinning. He sat down in the dirt and tried to right himself. Before he could stop, he was falling. Down, down, down, into sweet oblivion. His last thought was of her smell. A phantom woman couldn’t have a smell that would linger. Vanilla and… maybe a hint of lavender?
Book One of Creatures of the Night
By: Tisha Wilson
Chapter One ~
Alicia took a drag from her cigarette as she looked up at the moon. It was a crescent tonight. The moon didn’t have to be full for the night to be wicked. The sky could be dark as the inside of a raven’s wing and still, evil would haunt the night. She’d felt the evil gathering for some time. It was strong in this little backwoods town. She’d been drawn here like a moth to a flame.
Did that make her evil as well? She’d asked herself that question a million times over the past few years. The same answer always came to her. A small smile curved her lips as she allowed the ensuing battle to flood her veins with adrenaline. She certainly wasn’t innocent.
Throwing the butt of her cigarette to the ground and allowing her boot to crush it, she flung her leg over the seat of her custom-made Harley. It was lower to the ground to accommodate her smaller frame, but it was still a piece of machinery to behold. By all rights it should’ve been too large a bike for her slender frame.
She kicked the beast to life and let it purr between her legs. Riding this monster was as close to sex as she’d get with her clothes on. She took a moment to unzip her coat so it’d be easier to get to her guns. Her pants, bustier, and duster were made of black leather. Leather held up best during battle, and she looked bad ass in it.
She sped through the night allowing her hair to blow out behind her, a midnight flag in the wind. The air was stifling. Even though she was traveling at well over eighty miles an hour, it felt like the air was barely moving.
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck picked up. It started as a slow tingling sensation. Soon her entire body was alive with adrenaline. Taking a deep breath, she savored the feel. The fight was coming.
There were very few times when she felt alive anymore. Even fewer times when she could truly be herself. She had to present a front to the world so they wouldn’t try to lock her up. Phony smiles and mediocre conversation were her normal lately. But not here. She didn’t have to hold back here. During the fight she could release the wild inside her and she relished it.
Just as that thought passed through her mind the wind ceased to roar. The animals occupying the woodlands ceased in their noisy chatter. The night fell as silent as a tomb. From her peripheral a shadow moved in the trees. Trees shook at the roadside that had nothing to do with the wind. The shadows of the dark ones slid easily along with her.
The smile on her face became one of anticipation and she licked her lips. It was time. Revving the motorcycle to a higher speed, she was ready to be in the midst of the fight. Just as she neared her destination, she saw the very last thing she needed to see. Her heart slammed against her rib cage and she cursed out loud. Her smile faded as she realized it was too late to prevent the innocent from being involved in this fight.
* * *
Officer Jerry Cayman sat in his cruiser sweltering to death. What he wouldn’t give for a cruiser he could leave running. He missed the cruisers in the city. Those could be left running with the air conditioning going, the radio blazing, and his laptop booted up without even a blip on the batteries radar. That was in Durham. This was Taming, North Carolina.
Groaning, he tugged at the collar of his uniform. What he wouldn’t give for something icy to drink. Moving through this humidity was like living in slow motion. He looked over at the mounted police issued laptop. At least it was newer than the cruiser, which wasn’t saying much. Moses had probably used this car to herd goats. He had the momentary desire to turn on the laptop to distract him from the motionless boredom of the night, but didn’t want to risk draining the battery in this old hunk of junk.
He picked up the mic and keyed up.
“This is 536 performing a mic check.”
“You just did a mic check half an hour ago 536. Your mic’s working just fine. Stay off the air unless it’s official business, boss.”
Jerry slammed the mic back into its holster. He would bring in a recording of crickets chirping to play over the mic but it wasn’t necessary. All he had to do was open the mic and hold it out to the woods.
The crickets chirped so loud out here sometimes it was deafening. The crickets, frogs and night birds usually sang in a soft and peaceful cacophony. On nights like this, when there was not even a car in sight, their song was loud and incongruous.
It was as if the insects and animals were competing to see who could make the loudest noise. He would roll up his window but that’d be tantamount to suicide in this heat. He didn’t feel like being reamed out again by his sergeant for wasting police gas to, as Sergeant Gerald put it, ‘Fan his hide like some fancy lady.’
“Just wanted to let ‘em know I was still breathing,” he mumbled to himself irritably as he dug his phone out.
Plugging in his earbuds, he let heavy metal drown out the night sounds as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He imagined if he went to sleep for the rest of the night no one would be the wiser. Maybe two thousand people populated Taming. Those people decided, in unison, that nine thirty was the hour to turn out the lights and go to sleep.
In fact, save for the full moon crazies and hunting season enthusiasts, there was barely a car to drive on these old roads past ten o’clock. There were a few town drunks, but even if they tried to drive home, Sergeant Gerald would give them an escort and make sure they were tucked in for the night. Everyone here knew everyone else. It was a rare occasion when someone was actually arrested.
In fact. The only time Jerry had to arrest someone in the year since coming here, was when there was abuse of a woman or child involved. That was something Chief Hernandez had little tolerance for. The Chief preferred to have a low crime rate, and so sought other means besides jail and court to keep townspeople out of trouble.
It was a wild west mentality. The law was what the Chief said it was, but no one seemed to mind. At least not anyone willing to go up against the Chief. Jerry felt a stab of hunger in his gut as he sat up and looked at his phone. It was two am.
He’d possibly dozed for a moment, so decided to get up and move around. Then he’d get back in his car and head over to the diner. The all-night diner was the one oddity in this sleepy town. Paul Santo decided keeping his gas and diner open all night would double the money he made off truckers who ventured this far off the main road. His pride and joy was the sign he’d put up on the highway. It had lights giving directions to his restaurant and gas station.
Jerry heaved a sigh of frustration as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. He took out his earphones, put them in their case and tossed them to the seat before slamming the door. Leaning against the car he stretched his muscles in one languid movement.
The weight of his utility belt fell comfortably around his hips and he shook his head. When he’d worked in the city, the weight had been a constant reminder of the authority entrusted to him. Here, it was a constant reminder of how far he’d fallen.
He’d been a sergeant on his way to being a lieutenant in Durham. He’d had a job he couldn’t wait to go to and a wife to die for. Well at least it seemed that way in the beginning. Cherish was beautiful and vital when he’d met her and he’d fallen hard.
It was too bad he hadn’t seen her true ugliness until it was too late. She wrapped her hooks in him and when he’d tried to pull away, she shredded his good and happy life. Just thinking of her made him want to find a deep hole and a good bottle.
Maybe he could hide in said hole until Cherish decided to stop being angry with him. Maybe when he emerged from that hole, she would’ve forgotten her anger towards him. Maybe the good Senator, her father, wouldn’t block his application at every major city police department on the East Coast. Maybe hell would freeze over, and the devil could go ice skating.
He glanced at his empty ring finger. He’d gotten his divorce after a long and bloody battle. Now he was wondering if it might’ve been better to stay married the way she wanted. He had nothing left. This was career hell. This was the type of place cops came to retire and fade away into obscurity.
He was about to turn to get back into his cruiser when the night went silent. His hand on the door handle, he looked back towards the woods. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he turned away from the car. The moon was a silver sliver in the sky. It was a clear night, but he reached for the heavy flashlight that dangled from his utility belt. Clicking it on he scanned the area surrounding his car.
He took a few steps towards the woods as he listened for any noise. Dry leaves and pine straw crunched beneath his boots. His hand crept instinctively towards his gun. He ordered his heart to stop pounding as he watched the trees.
There was something. It was faint at first but getting louder. It sounded like… like branches being snapped. Something was running through the woods. Whatever it was, it was coming fast.
He wanted to turn and make his way back to the car. If it was some type of bear or other large wild animal, he’d be mauled before he could get there. Like a deer frozen in the headlights, he waited for whatever it was to burst from the trees at any second.
In a moment of insane clarity he realized, if this was a scary movie, he would’ve been yelling at the screen telling that stupid cop to get his ass moving. Even as he told himself this his feet stayed stubbornly rooted where they were.
He watched, waited, sure something would burst into the clearing any second. He felt coiled, ready to attack. The noise stopped short of the clearing where his cruiser lay. He wasn’t breathing and didn’t recall drawing his weapon.
The cold steel was a comfort in his palm. There was a feeling of dread in him.
Something bad was about to happen.
Before his next thought could come, a motorcycle shot by like a bolt of lightning. It whipped by so fast, he didn’t see the color of the bike or get a good description of the rider. All he heard was the roar of an engine distinct to a motorcycle as it sped past. Snapping out of the stupor he’d been in he finally moved his feet and ran for the cruiser.
He’d been sitting out here alone in these woods too long. Pushing the gun in its holster, he slammed the flashlight home and slid into the car snapping the seat belt in place. The action took less than thirty seconds. He cranked the car to life and hopped on the mic.
“536 to control. I have a 318 in progress. A motorcycle of unknown color and unknown tags heading west on Highway seven doing about a hundred. Check me in pursuit.”
“Christ in a cartoon! I copy that 536. 512, did you read that?”
Jerry rolled his eyes. The sergeant in charge had to approve a chase.
“I heard ‘im,” Sergeant Gerald answered. “536. Don’t you go on any high speed chases. Those roads are dangerous. Just let em go. They’re almost to Fairfax by now. That’s not our jurisdiction.”
“I copy sir but we can pursue up to three miles in another jurisdiction. This guy is trying to break sound barriers on that bike.”
“You have your orders. Just follow ‘im out of town. Lou. Raise Fairfax and make sure they’re waiting.”
Jerry cursed the lazy old man. He was probably sitting out in the woods somewhere with a jelly donut to further distend his round gut. Gerald should’ve retired long ago, and probably would’ve if he wasn’t so loyal to the Chief.
“I copy sergeant,” the dispatcher replied in a voice rough from too many years of cigars and pipes.
There was a slight tint of disappointment in Lou’s voice over the loss of a little bit of excitement. Lou put Jerry in mind of one of those people who sat around listening to their CB radios all day, waiting to see if someone would find their channel and start up a conversation.
“Did you hear what I said?” the sergeant growled over the mic and Jerry knew he wasn’t talking to Lou.
“I copy. I’ll follow at a distance and make sure the motorcycle leaves town. That’s all,” he responded.
He clicked on his blue lights and siren and hit the gas. The old car might not’ve looked like much. In the spirit of the crown vic, however, when he hit the gas the engine purred and pulled the car to an alarming speed. He was afraid the engine would detach and go running ahead without him. He reveled in the speed of the chase as the rear lamps of the motorcycle finally came back into view.
The bike was getting close to the mile marker that indicated the end of Taming and the beginning of Fairfax. He cursed. He at least wanted to give the motorcycle a ticket. At the speed it was going, he’d be lucky to even catch up to it within the three mile limit. Just when the bike would’ve crossed over, it veered off to the right. Rocks and dirt kicked up behind it.
Jerry picked up his mic as he hit the little dirt road with a hard right. The car nearly fishtailed. Something dug into his back side as the car jostled and he remembered his earbud case belatedly. As he fought to regain control of the car he dug around beneath him. He caught the case and tossed it aside with a muttered curse.
The car finally corrected, and he took off after the bike before keying up.
“536 control.”
“Go ahead 536.”
“We’ve changed direction. The bike veered off down a dirt road to the right of mile marker 118. I’m in pursuit.”
“Are those sirens I hear!”
Jerry rolled his eyes again.
“I hit them when the bike almost fishtailed in the gravel trying to take this dirt road,” he replied to his sergeant.
“Damn it, Jerry. I told you, no chase. The back road probably leads to that old boy’s house. Let him get home and sleep it off. We’ll go and talk to him in the mornin’.”
The Crown Vic went airborne for a moment as he hit a dirt clod. As he landed, he struggled for control of the steering wheel, the rear tires sliding around a little. It took him a moment to reply.
“I’m going to make sure he gets home and stays there. It won’t take me long and I’ll check in with you when I’m through,” he said.
The motorcyclist was skilled. He dodged clumps of grass and rocks like they were nothing while Jerry’s car took a bit of a beating. He wasn’t giving up though. He stayed on the cycle the best he could. It had been a long time since his blood pumped like this.
“Boy! You’re gonna learn the hard way to let those old codgers go to their houses and sleep it off. You’re going to make me arrest someone tonight. You’re always trying to make me arrest someone.”
This was no old codger. The suspect’s leather duster flew out behind him menacingly. The long hair that flew out behind him suggested he might be a biker. A little slender for a biker, but he’d seen smaller men. Those that patronized the biker bar on the edge of town rarely came to this part of the woods, though. What was he doing out here?
“That’s sort of our job,” he snapped before he could censor his tongue.
The Chief was bound to hear about this before morning. He could scarcely care. The moment demanded his full attention. The repercussions would have to be dealt with later.
“Well, I’m not going to be the one to deliver you to your uncle in a body bag, not on my watch. You do what I tell you or switch to days so he can watch over you!”
That hit home. The Police Chief in Taming was also his uncle and the only reason he still had a job in law enforcement. The last thing he wanted to do was upset him. Jerry clicked off his siren but let his blue lights blare on as he hit the mic button again.
“Control. I’m no longer in pursuit. I’m in route to the diner,” he said as docile as he could manage.
Gerald wasn’t fooled.
“If I don’t see you there within the half hour I’m calling the Chief,” he said without preamble.
“I copy,” he snarled as he pushed the gas a little harder.
So be it. He was tired of being censored for trying to do his job. He was a cop and a damn good one. He’d follow this punk into the ground if he had to. The motorcycle was just ahead of him now. Jerry was about to back off a bit when the motorcycle hit its brakes.
He had to maneuver not to hit him. He hit the brakes so hard the car whizzed by the bike and did a near one eighty, skidding in the loose dirt.
Once he got his bearings he slammed the car in park, unfastened his seat belt, stood in the apex of the car door, and drew his weapon. The biker stood, removed his helmet and laid it on the seat of the bike. As the dust began to settle Jerry’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
This was no biker. This was a woman, and not just any woman. She wore tight alligator skin pants, a slip of black material that might’ve been called a shirt, over which she had a black leather duster. She was of medium height and a petite frame and her straight black hair hung past her butt. The bone structure in her face hinted at Native heritage but her skin was a creamy mocha.
The most shocking thing about her was her violet, nearly purple, eyes. He’d never in his life seen such a sexually beautiful creature. It was hard to compose speech for a moment as he appraised her. Once he got over the initial shock his police training kicked in again.
“Suspect. Get down on the ground with your hands above your head and don’t move,” he said in a commanding voice.
Al’s first impression of the uniform was not one she would’ve expected. At least not for this little backwoods town. He was a diamond in the rough. Tall, at least six feet four inches, and lean with just the right amount of muscle.
A clean shaven man who appeared to be of Caucasian descent, but with a tan to his skin and black hair. Perhaps he had some type of ethnicity in his background. His brown eyes were sharp as he trained his weapon on her.
“Cher. I don’t get on the ground for no man, lessin’ he’s plannin’ on comin’ down there with me,” she said, her Creole accent heavy.
She nearly laughed at the look on his face. So serious.
“Are you refusing the direct order of a police officer?” he asked in that tone cops used to try to take control of a situation.
She shook her head feeling bad for him. He had no idea what was about to happen, but she did. All too well.
“Naw. I’m just sayin’ it aint very courteous or gentlemanly of you to be askin’ a lady to get down on the ground, in the dirt, like a dog. D’accord?”
She began to remove her gloves and waited for the tell tell signs of an over anxious cop. If he was going to lose his cool his finger would begin to tighten uncomfortably on the trigger of his gun. He didn’t move a muscle as he thought over her words. She saw him come to some sort of conclusion.
“Turn around and put your hands in the air as you slowly back towards me,” he changed his directive.
She couldn’t help but grin at this.
“Well, well. Chivalry ain't all the way dead anyhow,” she teased.
“Ma’am. I said turn around and put your hands in the air,” he repeated with more force.
He was handsome with his strong hands and serious face. If he weren’t a cop she might’ve had a go at him. Maybe she would anyway and risk Bateman’s wrath later. Her mentor hated her to get involved with law enforcement. It made the clean up much harder.
“Don’t get your cute buns in a twist. I heard you the first time, but if you’re gonna slap cuffs on me, then who’s gonna help you with them?”
Jerry told himself not to look in the direction to which her gaze shifted. It was obviously a ruse. There was nothing and no one in this deep part of the woods but him, her, and the birds. Still, he saw the tension that entered her body as she looked that way. She was preparing for a battle. Her actions caused him to briefly glance to his left.
At first glance he saw nothing, but then… deep in the foliage he saw it. Two dots glowing red in the dark. It was like the reflection of a dog’s eyes. Instead of the iridescent green glow, however, these eyes were starkly and menacingly red.
He swung his gun that way. The creature stepped out into the moonlight at the edge of the clearing they were in. His heart hammered in his chest as he struggled to see what it was. It was big as a grizzly but the nose was wrong. It was a dog’s snout, and the arms and legs didn’t look like a grizzly’s. The arms and legs looked like… like a very hairy human.
He blinked a few times in stunned silence as he watched it move steadily forward. Was he dreaming? Was he still sitting in his car on the side of the road asleep? Had the heat finally rotted his brain? His police training took over his stalled brain.
Before he even knew what was happening he was shooting. As far as he could tell he was making direct body hits. The thing only paused as slugs hit it. The bullets enrage it. His magazine was empty and there wouldn’t be time to reload before it reached him.
He heard someone screaming as he closed his eyes. He braced himself for the attack. Who the hell was screaming? He remembered the woman and suddenly the screaming stopped. He realized with a start it’d been his own voice screaming like a frightened girl.
On the heels of that thought was the realization that instead of having his arm ripped off, he heard a blast come from somewhere near the hood of his car. He opened his eyes to see the monster fall clutching its chest as it burst into flames. The stench coming off the burning body was putrid and he covered his nose with the back of his hand.
He turned to see the woman standing up on the hood of his car. She’d pulled the flaps of her jacket back to reveal a small arsenal of guns, knives, bullets and grenades. For the second time his jaw nearly hit the floor. She had two guns, both the size of cannons, one in each hand, and was taking aim into the woods. As she fired again he turned to see two more figures in the woods burst into flames.
“What the hell are those things and who the hell are you?” he asked as he turned back to her.
“Right now, Cherie… I’m here to save your tight little ass. That’s all you need to know,” she said as she turned those piercing violet eyes on him.
Her little smile did something to his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. She tossed one of her cannons at him. He was shocked by the weight as he caught it.
“What the hell! Are you crazy, you don’t just go tossing loaded weapons at people! I could’ve shot something important off trying to catch this thing,” he yelled.
She laughed in the face of his concern, and he knew his face had turned red.
“That’ll work a little better than your police issued pistol I think, Cher. Hopefully you’re better at shootin’ than you are at gettin’ people to lie down in the dirt,” she said with a wink.
He was still staring at her in astonishment when she turned and shot into the woods. Her boots left dents in the hood of the Crown Vic. He was about to say so when he saw one of the creatures come running out of the woods at her back. He took aim and pulled the trigger.
The kickback nearly tore his arm off as it knocked him on his ass. He scrambled back up to his feet to see he’d hit his target and it was burning in the grass. He smiled up at her and saw her roll her eyes.
“Good job, Stud, but you might wanna watch your own back.”
Jerry turned just in time to see another creature burst through the trees. It released a blood curdling snarl. It was so close Jerry had to cover his ears. When it was through, it came at him like a freight train. He took aim and fired. Blood, ash and saliva burst in his face. Another scream came from his right. He turned in time to see two attack the biker woman simultaneously.
The creatures had left the woods so swiftly, they hit her like linebackers. Breaking branches and crashing trees indicated more of them were on the way. Jumping up on the hood, he found the spot where the creatures were dragging the woman and took aim. He didn’t want to hit her, but these things were about to tear her to shreds.
He took two shots. He smiled when he hit his mark and they burst into flames. Before he could celebrate, he was hoisted into the air. He saw the woman get to her feet, a deep gash in her face. She had a feral angry look as she shot the beast that had gotten a hold of him.
The thing was about to toss him like a stone across his car. Instead, he fell to the ground and rushed to his feet to avoid getting burned by the rancid smelling body. He just gained his feet when he was hit on the right side. He was hit so hard he fell into his car across the front seat. Jesus.
The gun was knocked from his hand into the floorboard and the creature was on him. Jerry used all the strength in his arms to keep the thing off. He cried out as it leaned down digging into his shoulders with its big claws. It was slimy to his touch and stank of dead bloated flesh. It breathed on him as it got closer and closer, its rows of razor sharp teeth inches from his face.
He turned away and realized too late the move left his neck open and exposed for the creature to rip out. This was it. This was the end of his life. Here, in this old broken-down cruiser with this big stinky freak show chomping on him like a buffet. Just when his strength was going to give out the creature burst into flames. He hurried to push it out and slam the door. The biker woman slid into the passenger side and closed the door behind her.
He was about to ask her if she was all right when he noticed the smooth skin of her face. Hadn’t he seen a big gash there a few minutes ago? She took one look at him and reached for his shirt. She unbuttoned his uniform shirt and began to pull it from his pants. And then down his arms.
“Is this the part of the dream where we make out?” he asked.
Why he said it he didn’t know. Maybe his brain had shut down with shock. She laughed a husky laugh that did all sorts of things to him. He had too many emotions running through him all at once. Adrenaline, fright, arousal.
He didn’t know what to latch on to so found himself focusing on her beautiful face. She was more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. Her beauty was at odds with the hellion he’d seen standing on the hood of his car, looking like an Amazonian Warrior.
“I’m afraid this is not that kind of dream, Shug.”
She pulled a knife and began to cut his shirt into strips. His arousal turned to trepidation as he saw the size of the knife. His police issued pistol was lying out on the ground, and he had only his flashlight and baton for defense. He was a flashlight cop at the moment. He swallowed hard to which she chuckled again.
“Not to worry, Mon Petit. It ain’t that kinda dream either.”
She slipped the huge knife back in her boot and he was surprised it fit. The thing didn’t look like it should be able to fit next to the slender ankle. She leaned forward and quickly bandaged the wounds on his shoulders and forearms. He hadn’t realized how much blood he’d lost and was suddenly lightheaded.
“It’s okay if you want to sleep now,” she said.
“Sleep? Are you crazy? What the hell were those things?” he asked, trying to keep his wits about him.
Her hands brushed him in certain places where she tied bandages. When she was finished, she looked away from him out the passenger side window. She said a curse as she reached across him and buckled his seat belt. Something hit the car with the force of a jumbo jet.
He saw dirt and then sky and then dirt and then sky as glass shattered and seemed to rain all around him. When the car finally stopped, he felt blood trickle from his nose. He blinked as his ears buzzed. He wanted to sink into darkness but the cop in him wouldn’t allow it. His first thought was for the woman who’d reached across him to buckle him in, forsaking her own safety. His head, neck, and shoulders screamed against the motion, but he turned to the passenger seat.
He nearly threw up. She was draped across the back of the bench seat as if she were laying on her stomach, slung over someone’s shoulder, only she wasn’t on her stomach. She was on her back. There was no way she survived. Just as that thought hit him he saw her foot twitch. When she lifted her arms and pushed her broken back up off the chair he leaned far away from her against his door, stifling another unmanly scream.
“What the hell is going on?!” he said a hair too loud.
A growl outside the front windshield, which was now shattered into a million pieces, took his attention from his passenger. Just as he turned to look, the monster crashed down on the hood. There was blasting from her side of the car and he watched the mutated beast burst into flame.
“I crashed. I was chasing you on your motorcycle and I ran right into a tree and I’m dying on the side of the road. I should’ve given more to charity. I should’ve helped old ladies across the street or something. This is my penance, purgatory, whatever, right?
“Or maybe it’s just a joke. Is my uncle watching somewhere? Are there cameras hidden because I-“
He stopped rambling when the beautiful woman with the violet eyes reached over and slapped him across the face. He paused for a moment to collect himself. His racing thoughts settled after the slap. Trying to get a handle on what was happening would be easier with more information.
There just seemed to be too much happening at once. He looked out towards the woods and his heart nearly stopped. The red glowing eyes were everywhere. He swallowed all his fright and attempted a clear thought again.
“Okay. You’re right. I deserved that. What the hell is going on?” he asked her in a calmer tone.
Al watched him. So far he’d kept a far cooler head than some of the other innocents she’d dealt with. Most of them would be passed out cold by now, especially at the sight of their own blood. She’d been impressed by the way he handled himself with that wolf. Most wouldn’t have tried to fight back, not against such a grotesque looking beast.
It was amazing he hadn’t been bitten and she was grateful for that. He was too beautiful of a man to turn into one of the ugly creatures. She would’ve had to shoot him.
“This isn’t a joke and you’ve been in a car crash,” she answered both honestly and evasively.
She was taken a little aback by the look he gave her. It was a look that said she was full of it and they both knew it.
“I haven’t been in a crash. My car was sitting still when one of those… those… whatever they are hit it, so I ask again. What the hell is going on?” he asked.
She shrugged as she dug in her jacket pocket. She found what she was looking for and held it out to him. Jerry looked at the device. He wasn’t a bomb expert but it looked like a detonator, complete with cheesy red button. There should be a little sticker around it that said ‘push here to blow shit up.’ He looked at her and the number of grenades she had strapped to her chest, then back out to the glowing eyes coming out of the woods.
“You may do the honors if you like, Mon Cher,” she said.
He turned back to her and gave her his best ‘do I look stupid to you’ stare.
“No thank you. I didn’t sign on for the death then forty virgin package deal. Some men go for that sort of thing but… I’m good,” he answered.
She looked like she didn’t follow for a moment until he motioned at the grenades on her chest. She laughed. It was a husky sultry laugh that whispered to his senses.
“Honey. You get the strangest ideas about thangs. I aint gonna blow us up. I’ll have to remember that whole forty virgins line. You’re funny.”
“Then what-“ before he could say another word she pressed the button.
The entire clearing was filled with a blinding light. He closed his eyes but not before the light filled his vision and searing pain saturated the back of his retinas.
“My eyes,” he cried out.
He heard the creatures scream from around the car and smelled that putrid smell of death as they fried. When the light finally dimmed, he tried to open his eyes but to no avail.
“I can’t see,” he screamed to the woman that had been in the car.
There was only silence. He pushed past the pain and did his best to open his eyes. He managed a small slit only to find himself completely alone in the stark silence.
“536,” the radio blared and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “This is 512 attempting to raise 536, respond.”
He picked up the mic with a shaking hand.
“This is 536.”
“Your thirty minutes are up. You better be here in the next ten seconds or-”
Jerry stopped paying attention as he searched the floorboard for her gun. It was gone. Even though he wasn’t steady on his feet he opened his car door and stumbled forward. He went to where her motorcycle had been when he’d pulled her over. There were dozens of crisscrossing tracks. It was hard to say how many people had been dirt biking back here in recent days.
He found his gun and holstered it, but that was all he found. There were a few piles of burnt ash here and there. At worst, it looked like any other area where teens would come to have bonfires. Perhaps a hang out for the local drunks.
People would laugh him all the way back to Durham if he told them what he’d seen. Suddenly his head was spinning. He sat down in the dirt and tried to right himself. Before he could stop, he was falling. Down, down, down, into sweet oblivion. His last thought was of her smell. A phantom woman couldn’t have a smell that would linger. Vanilla and… maybe a hint of lavender?