Lost Wolf
Chapter 6
The missing man's car was surrounded by crime scene tape, and technicians were coming through it. The findings so far were disturbing: Chemicals, drugs, restraints and possible blood stains in the trunk. Added to the fact that Doctor James Anderson had stated his intention to travel to Seattle, only for his car to end up in Santa Carla, California, it raised many, many questions.
Was it the Doctor's blood in the trunk? Or was it someone else's? Was he stuffed in his own trunk and driven to Santa Carla, or had he come here on his own, searching for victims?
The initial search of his home back in Hawkins, Indiana, indicated that the good doctor had some very bad tendencies, almost certainly criminal and possibly murderous.
Had he just walked away, to disappear? Had he suspected someone was closing in on him? If he did, he was incorrect, everyone thought he was a pillar of the community until the search of his house.
They had found no reliable witnesses on the Boardwalk, despite the fact that it was packed with people every night. The only people who claimed to have any information were two teenage boys running a comic shop who blamed Vampires for the city's incredibly high number of unsolved disappearances and deaths. According to the locals, the boys, Edgar and Alan Frog, were infamous in the area for their obsession with Vampires and a local biker gang, The Lost Boys, who they claimed were Vampires. They even threw in a Werewolf watch dog for good measure.
The long, healing scars on Alan Frog's did look like a slash from two claws. But given the boys' state of mind, it was more likely than not a big dog rather than a Werewolf.
While the idea of supernatural beings struck investigators as absurd, the idea of a dangerous biker gang was not.
The problem was that no one except their rivals and the Frog boys would talk about them. The local police dismissed the idea of their involvement, and locals on the Boardwalk wouldn't speak of them. The Surf Nazis, a rival gang vying for control of the Boardwalk, were more than happy to give information, names and alleged murders connected with the them. Most of what they said had to be taken with a grain of salt, as they were a gang trying to get the police to stamp out their rivals rather than concerned citizens looking out for public safety.
The leader of The Lost Boys was a bleach-blond in his early twenties named David, no last name, his lieutenant, a tall, long haired Native American named Dwayne, again no last name, ditto for rock star Paul and small, blond, angel-faced Marko (Marko with a 'K') with his bizarre patchwork jacket. There had been a teenage girl named Star and a little boy, (or perhaps a little girl, they weren't sure), with long brown hair hanging around the group for a short time, but they evidently left. There was supposedly a new addition, Michael, a darkly handsome white male, pale skin, late teens, with curly black hair, and a hanger-on named Alex, a very skinny white male with moderate length straight brown hair, he was in his early twenties. Unlike the others, he dressed casually, without the leather and metal trappings of a biker or a gang-banger, only a single, dangling earring indicated his affiliation. Michael and Alex were the only members who had ever been seen during the day, the others were only seen at night.
And out of the whole group, only Michael and Alex had last names on available official documents, Michael Emerson, 17, of Phoenix, Arizona, and Alex Winther, 22, of Savannah, Georgia. The latter was an interesting development, as it turned out that Alex Winther had vanished at age 10 after his family's murders in 1975, and turned up in Santa Carla in 1983. Though a minor at the time with no parents or legal guardians, and an address belonging to a man named Maxwell Ward, he wasn't picked up by CPS or noticed by the school system. He'd simply gotten lost among the bureaucratic red tape. He rode a restored 1940's Indian brand motorcycle with a sidecar, a vehicle not likely to go anywhere without attracting attention. Michael Emerson had just moved to Santa Carla nine days before, during which time a truck had been driven through the living room of his family home by his grandfather and he'd dropped out of high school, despite being a senior nearing graduation. His mother's employer and possible love interest, local businessman Maxwell Ward, (the same Maxwell Ward whose house Alex Winther had listed as his home address), had suddenly 'gone on vacation', leaving all of his belongings to his adopted sons, who happened to be the very same David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul of The Lost Boys, as well as Lucy Emerson and his future step-sons Michael and Samuel.
There is no such thing as 'coincidences'.
Detectives soon learned that each of The Lost Boys, (save Alex, who used his actual surname, Winther, and Michael, who had only just arrived), used the surname Ward on the few official documents that could be found, (Not surprising, as they were Max's adoptive sons), but their real names were still a mystery. The 'original' Lost Boys had no recorded pasts, aside from wild rumors that they had been present in Santa Carla since at least the 1950's, (some placed them there before the great earthquake of 1908, but that was obviously impossible.), and hadn't aged a day, hence their name. Like Peter Pan's Lost Boys, they never seemed to age, aside from Alex, who'd gone from a scrawny, gangly 14 year old to a scrawny, gangly 22 year old. Perhaps that story was part of the whole 'Vampire' myth surrounding them.
According to the so-called Surf Nazis, neither Marko nor Alex had been seen for the last few nights. Alex only occasionally visited the Boardwalk, and often passed unnoticed, but Marko was a nightly visitor and a... Colorful presence, frequently getting into brawls with Surf Nazis, and winning. This was the first time anyone could remember that the gang had appeared without Marko. And no one they spoke to had seen Alex's unmistakable motorcycle around town since the night Doctor Anderson disappeared.
Though they frequently heard motorcycles, and caught a few glimpses of young men resembling The Lost Boys' David, Dwayne and Michael, the investigators had yet to actually confront them, much less interrogate them. They seemed to vanish into thin air, as if they were illusions, mirages in a desert of faces and jostling bodies.
The Emerson family claimed that they had no idea where Max was, and that Michael had fallen in with a bad crowd and joined The Lost Boys. They didn't know where the gang lived, and were clearly distraught by the kid's sudden idea to drop out of school and join a gang. Star Martinez and the young boy, who was named Laddie Thompson, were staying with the Emerson family for the time being and had left the gang, permanently. Neither had much to say about the group. Star clearly despised The Lost Boys, she blamed them for 'taking' Michael, and stated that they were extremely dangerous. She was upset that Alex hadn't left with them, but he'd been with the gang for so long that he viewed them as his family. Laddie said little beyond that he missed Dwayne and Alex, and that he was happy to be 'free'. He wouldn't elaborate, and neither claimed to have been held against their will. Again, nothing could be done, legally.
Surprisingly, they all seemed truly upset to learn that no one had seen Alex or Marko, especially Alex, whom they described as a kind boy and a good friend.
In the end, Alex Winther and Marko with a 'K' were relatively easy to find.
They were living in Max Ward's house, hiding from the missing Doctor Anderson.
XXXX
"And he threatened to kill you?" The detective asked, his tape recorder rolling.
"Yeah, he pulled a gun on me! He said he was going to rape me, string me up and gut me like a fish! He was psycho!" Marko's big brown eyes, curly blond hair and cherubic face made him look like a sincere, wide-eyed innocent rather than a hardened gang member. Yet, something in those bright eyes made his hair stand on end, something dark and undefinable. "I kicked him in the nuts and ran like hell. Spent half the night hiding in the House of Mirrors. Then I came home and told Alex what had happened."
"We decided it would be safer for us not to go out until he was found, or until it was clear he's left." Alex contributed. Soft-spoken, casually but tastefully dressed and clean-cut, the skinny youth wouldn't have looked out of place at a church gathering, if not for his single, dangling earring, "If he's still in town, he'll want to silence us both. Marko for getting away, and me for having seen his face."
The detective was somewhat suspicious of the blond's story, "Marko, I still don't understand why you went off, alone, with a man who propositioned you, when you claim to not be a prostitute. Especially if Alex told you he thought the man was dangerous."
"I'm tougher than I look, I figured if he tried anything, I could take him." He began worrying his thumbnail with his teeth, making him look even younger and more innocent.
"I think you meant to rob him." The detective stated bluntly, "You just didn't know he was packing heat. That's why you didn't call the police."
Marko's eyes widened in false innocence.
The detective pressed on, "You're a founding member of one of the most infamous gangs in Santa Carla. You can't be as innocent as you seem."
Marko grinned a little too widely, it was disturbing to see such an unhinged expression on such an angelic face, "Yeah, you got me. I was going to snatch his wallet, maybe his ring," And his blood, he thought wryly, "but he drew on me before I could do anything! That part is all true! If I hadn't run, he'd have killed me! And he approached us. He thought I was a hooker, so I decided to play along and get something out of it."
Alex wasn't surprised Marko admitted so easily to his fictitious botched robbery. The Detective had called him on his innocent appearance. He'd shown him respect as an actual threat rather than a harmless little thing. Marko was rarely treated as a threat, despite his muscular build. His beautiful face and short stature combined to make people underestimate him. Being recognized as a potentially dangerous man, not a weak pretty boy or a child, was the fastest way to earn his favor.
"Did you know about this? The robbery plan?" He directed at Alex, who was smoothing back his hair, a tell that he was nervous.
"I suspected that Marko was up to something. We, that is me and the others, call him The Imp." Alex left out the 'Little' part of the nickname, The Little Imp, "He looks harmless, but he's full of mischief. Usually just harmless pranks, except when the Surf Nazis start fights. He can take on guys twice his size, and he's pure muscle."
"And you?"
"I can fight, but I try to avoid trouble. I don't like hurting people or getting hurt. I lived on the streets for four years, from age ten to fourteen. I had to learn to fight, or I would have ended up dead, or worse. I've had to fight off rapists and killers...It's... Not something I like to think about. I saw so many kids in horrible situations, but I somehow survived. If not for The Lost Boys, I'd never have reached fifteen. They took me in, nursed me back to health, helped me in so many ways..." His voice drifted a bit. "They're my family now."
That explained why a seemingly 'nice boy' like Alex would hang around gang members, a sense of debt, more emotional than anything, most likely. Sam Emerson had said that Alex had no one outside the gang. His family had been murdered, he'd slipped though the cracks in the system, he'd wandered the streets for four years of his childhood, facing threats of death, disease, rape or starvation every day. The Lost Boys offered him a place to live, a place to belong, a family. There were few better ways to gain a loyal ally.
Or a loyal slave.
The question was, which was he?
Max Ward's house was a bizarre place, especially for a middle-aged businessman. Arcade Games stood against one wall, a glaringly mismatched, and somewhat worn-looking brown leather couch sat in the living room among otherwise immaculate furnishings and neon signs hung in various locations. The place was well-kept save for the recent addition of two sets of dirty boot prints on the carpeting and a few items of clothing on the floor. As if to add an Odd Couple vibe to the place, a pair of clean sneakers were sitting on a mat by the door and Alex was in his socks while Marko still had his boots on, and had clearly been resting his feet on the coffee table judging by the dirt and scuff marks.
The place was a mid-life crisis meeting a college dorm room.
"What can you tell me about Michael Emerson?"
"He seems like a nice guy, but I haven't spent much time with him. He's only been in town about a week. I watched his brother for a few hours one day for him, and Sam's a good kid. His family is nice, too. I can tell his mom really loves him, she's a good person." Alex smiled.
"What is your relationship with Max like, Alex?"
Alex took a deep breath, "Not good. I avoided him whenever possible. He treated me like a dog, mocked me and later just ignored me. I think he only tolerated me for the sake of the others."
"I noticed you aren't in his will."
"You don't put the family dog in your will, usually, anyway. I was serious about him treating me like a dog, no, were I an actual dog, he would have treated me better. Fortunately, we rarely saw each other." Alex's bitterness toward Mr. Ward couldn't have been clearer.
"He's crazy. Max, I mean. He didn't even know Miss. Emerson, and he was already convinced that he would marry her. He kept talking about 'giving' us a mother, to reign us in. He was a good guy, once, but I guess he just got lonely or something, and it messed with his head... Whatever it was, he flipped." For once, Marko didn't have any kind of smile or smirk on his face. He looked somewhere between sad and angry, "He treated Alex like S***, he didn't care if we got hurt, as long as we did as we were told, he didn't really care about Miss. Emerson, he just wanted a wife and mother for us so he'd look better. I hate to say it, but it might be better for everyone if he doesn't come back."
SSSS
"What exactly do you do for The Lost Boys, Alex?"
"I'm basically a house sitter," Alex turned to look at Marko, "Though sometimes I feel like a babysitter."
Marko pouted playfully.
Alex slapped him on the leg, "You're vacuuming, Marko. Take the boots off next time."
"What about Paulie?"
"That goes for Paul, too."
"Do all The Lost Boys stay here?" The detective interjected, wanting to steer the conversation back to the issue at hand.
"On and off. Paul is staying here right now for extra protection, but he just stepped out to get something to eat."
Oh God, Paul...
What?
If he comes home covered in blood, we're screwed.
We're also screwed if they find Paul's stash.
I doubt they'll look under the Arcade machines.
"Paul? White male, late teens, early twenties, blue eyes, long blond hair, looks like he's in a rock band?"
"That'd be our Paulie. Why?"
"Just making sure. We got some descriptions on all of you at the Boardwalk, I just wanted to make sure they were correct."
"Okay."
"David. White male, late teens, early twenties, blue eyes, platinum hair, mullet, black trench coat?"
"Right."
"Dwayne. American Indian male, early twenties. Tall, long black hair, doesn't talk much."
Marko nodded, "He's quiet in public, and when he's reading or thinking about something smart. But once he starts on something, he'll talk your ear off. He's just not that social with other people."
'Something smart'?
I'm the pretty one, not the smart one.
"He could probably teach Philosophy, History or Literature in a big name college." Alex clarified, "But he loves his freedom."
"Where do you usually stay?"
"Wherever we can. Abandoned buildings, mostly"
"Why not stay here?"
"David and Max... There was some history there, but that was before I came along. He didn't want to stay with Max, none of us did. We like being on our own, no rules, no curfew, no responsibilities. Sleep all day, party all night." Live forever, Marko didn't bother to add, "Max wouldn't even allow us on the furniture half the time."
"He never let me on the furniture." Alex grumbled under his breath.
"According to everyone who knows him, Max has a dog, a husky. Where is it?"
"Thorn's staying with the boys for now. Max left him here when he went wherever he went. He's great at scaring people away."
"Maybe you should have kept him here, then."
Marko shrugged, "That crazy doctor isn't the only person after our hides. Somebody needs to watch the others while they sleep. Between Surf Nazis and those crazy Frogs, we all need the protection. Edgar, the Frog with the bandana, he actually tried to stake me when I was sleeping! If Alex hadn't caught him and ran him off, I'd be toast."
"Wait, Edgar Frog tried to kill you? With a stake through the heart?" The problems with the Frog boys were becoming less and less funny the more he learned.
"Alan was there too. Thorn got him, scratched his back a little. Hopefully that will keep them away."
"You didn't press charges? That's assault and attempted murder, not to mention completely insane." This whole town was a madhouse, apparently.
"All the world's an asylum," Alex observed somberly, "and all it's people, merely patients."
"Yeah. Sure, kid." That was creepy. He turned back to Marko, "Do you want to press charges?"
"Nah, it's good for our street cred. The Big Bad Vampires of Santa Carla. Makes the Surf Nazis think twice, the ones that have brains, anyway. And that's not many." Marko acted so nonchalant that the detective wondered just what kind of things he'd faced in life to make him shrug off an attempt at being staked by crazed adolescent Vampire hunters.
"What about the Werewolves?"
"That would be me." Alex replied, "They didn't see Thorn when I rushed in, and they think I'm the one who slashed Alan." He held up his hands palms inward, showing blunt nails, "I don't know if you can do anything about it, but those kids need help. Serious mental help. Their parents are drugged up all the time, and they're obsessed with Creatures of the Night to the point that they tried to kill Marko..."
"We can't do anything if you don't press charges."
It's probably better that they raise themselves than get the Child Protection people involved. God only knows what would happen to them there...
"Putting them in prison won't help, and they can't afford an institution."
Alex nodded sadly. As a child who'd slipped through the cracks, he knew how badly the system was broken. He'd heard horror stories from other homeless kids about abusive foster homes and orphanages, uncaring or corrupt social workers. Most of the people working in the system truly wanted to help, but the sheer scope of the problems, and the reasons for which organizations like the CPS had to exist in the first place, were impossible for people to comprehend, much less stop.
"And if they try to kill you again?"
Sharks gotta' eat too, "We have Thorn, and we moved from the last place so they shouldn't be able to find us easily." Marko smiled, "Don't worry about us, chief, we've handled a lot worse than a couple of idiot teenagers."
You and Paul are a couple of idiot teenagers, Marko.
Who asked you, David? And Paul, clean up for God's sake, we can't risk a blood-covered Vampire being seen waltzing into the house...
We'll handle it, just keep the story straight and try not to act too suspicious.
XXXX
David leaned against the railing opposite the amusement park, keen eyes alert for police, Dwayne and Michael at the right and left of him, respectively. The Law had found the car, and they'd found Marko and Alex, though he couldn't sense any danger on that front just yet. They'd been playing hide and go seek with the cops on the Boardwalk, but eventually they'd have to stop and talk, if only to get them to leave.
"How long do you think they'll be here?" Michael asked. The neonate was worried, they all were, to a degree. They were the hunters, not the hunted, and they knew that the Surf Nazis would jump at the chance to implicate them in this case, and in many, many others. He couldn't really blame them, if the sheep could fight against the wolf, then good for them.
"Anywhere from a few nights to a few weeks. This has happened before, not often, someone with money or an important family name goes missing, and, naturally, we're the first suspects. Granted, we usually are responsible..." David casually examined his nails, "The worst are the PIs, Private Investigators. They don't look or act like cops, and they're smart, observant and tough. A few even figured us out, before they went missing too."
"Usually?"
"Do you honestly think we're the only danger in Santa Carla? Hell, we're not even the only Vampires in town. People drown a lot and get carried out to sea, people prey on each other, like what that Doctor tried with Marco. The Surf Nazis have been known to kill rivals, and to be killed by rivals other than us. And some people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Robberies gone wrong, unreported ODs, choking on corndogs... About the only thing that hasn't killed anyone around here are the sharks. There's never been a known shark attack in Santa Carla."
"Maybe it's because we keep them so well fed." Dwayne smiled, "Marko may have been on to something."
Michael looked at him confused. He hadn't been there for that conversation.
"Marko was ranting about the sharks, about how maybe there were Vampire sharks out there, even came up with a way they could be turned. Wanted to tame them... Not that it would work, and we don't need or want an 'army of the deep' living at our doorstep."
Michael laughed at the idea. He pictured sharks with fangs wearing Dracula capes, flying from the sea to snatch people off the beach and suck them dry. "Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the beach! Sharkula!"
All three Vampires started laughing.
Because of the police, they had to avoid hunting, or, at least, hunting on the Boardwalk, for the time being. They also had to be far more careful, both with feeding and with disposing of the bodies. The local cops looked the other way, they either didn't want to see the truth, or were too afraid to cause trouble for the boys. But these outsiders, especially if any of them were Feds, probably didn't have that kind of discretion, or fear. And none of them wanted to end up in a government lab being turned into the hot new thing in biological weaponry. Paul was on the other side of town looking for prey at the moment. Fortunately for Marko, who couldn't go hunting at all for the time being, Max had a lot of wine bottles filled with what was definitely not red wine. Thankfully, it wasn't 'Max's Own', though his blood would have lost it's power with his death, none of them wanted that particular 'brand' in them again.
"What's going to happen with Marko and Alex?"
"Both of them know to keep their mouths shut. It's hard to believe, I know, but Marko can shut up if he has to."
"Since they're at Max's house, it's likely they'll put it all together. After all, he adopted all four of us, and was going to make Michael and Sam his as well."
"Why not Alex?" Michael asked. After all, Alex had lived with them for eight years and saving Marko from Edgar Frog probably wasn't the only time he'd stepped in to protect the boys.
Dwayne sighed, leaned back and looked up at the stars, "Max hated Alex. He hated his kind in general, there was probably something personal there, but he never explained it."
"If they do figure it out, about Max and us, it would just prove that Max wasn't the shining pillar of the community everyone thought he was. He was funding a biker gang, that's not illegal, I don't think, since it can't be proven that we've actually done anything wrong beyond a few brawls. They couldn't touch him, if he was still around, and we have his lawyers on our side now. Worse case scenario, they try to arrest Marko and Alex for suspicion, maybe Paul too, if he's there. Then we'd have a bunch of dead cops, or, worse, Feds. We'd have to leave the state, maybe even the country, and lay low for a long, long time."
"Max had accounts around the world that we can access. The easiest for us would simply be to fly into Mexico, set up shop there." Dwayne stated, "People go missing all the time in Mexico, especially with the Cartels running everything. But those same Cartels could pose a threat, so I'd rather go on south, maybe Brazil, eat some of those Nazis hiding down there. The real ones, not the fakes like those dumb punks on the boardwalk who probably don't even know what a real Nazi is or what they believe. Thank God for that, one generation of those sick bastards was more than enough..."
"If we find any Nazi war criminals running around, we'll let you have first dibs, Dwayne." David smiled broadly. Dwayne might not like humanity in general, but it was because of people like the Nazis that he felt that way. He'd been treated like dirt for being half-Apache all his life, and sometimes during his afterlife, and humans who thought themselves superior to other humans made his cold, dead heart burn with rage. The last time some fool had insulted his heritage was before they met Paul, or even Marko. The scumbag had called him a 'thieving redskin', that guy had lasted several nights, though he was begging for death before the end of the first.
They'd had a lot of fun with him.
"Do you think Star will talk?"
"I doubt it. She wouldn't get anything out of ratting us out except maybe the satisfaction of getting us killed. But you'd die to, or worse, get caught and stuck in a lab, and she still loves you. She wouldn't want Alex hurt, either. I guess being nice to people comes in handy, sometimes." David looked toward the horizon, "Let's go for a walk. I'd hate to get approached by some psycho chick named after a poisonous flower who thinks she's some kind of 'mate' to all of us, and not be able to kill her."
Dwayne shuddered, "I hate those. Remember Wolfsbane Solstice? She nearly gave poor Alex a heart attack. He thought she was a Werewolf hunter... What was her real name again? Alice Terwilliger?" He shrugged, "It doesn't matter, she was a flake, and now she's dead."
"Just another reason why we're better off without hearts." He turned to Michael, "Never, ever trust a girl named after a poisonous flower, a month or season, or anything to do with darkness or the occult. They think they own us and have the right to whatever they want. They don't."
"I'll keep that in mind." Indeed, Michael doubted he could forget such a frightening prospect.
To be continued...
XXXX
Notes:
I gave Alex the last name Winther, so he has the last name of the actor I patterned his appearance on, Allan Winther, and the first name of the actor who played Marko, Alex Winter. It is a bit confusing the names are so similar: Allan Winther and Alex Winter. His name is in the system, but his long period of homelessness, life with the boys and bureaucratic incompetence kept him from being noticed.
I previously stated that Alex was declared legally dead in 1985, but I decided to change that because he needed a slight paper trail. He listed Max's address as his own, but never lived there. He just needed an address so he could get a driver's license. He hasn't been to school since he was 10, when his Pack was killed.
I gave Star the last name Martinez because it just seemed to fit in my opinion.
Maxwell Ward is just Max's most recent alias, he's been around for centuries and lived under a variety of names. He wasn't always a bad guy, he was, originally, a very good father figure to the boys. He started becoming obsessed with his idea of a perfect family in the 1950's and eventually that was all that he could think about. The boys ran wild and unsupervised while he continually plotted to find his dream family. He did not sexually abuse the boys, though he did base his decisions partly on how attractive the prospective Childe was.
Max hated Werewolves, why or when this happened I haven't decided yet.
Star lied about the boys, not to protect them, but to protect the police. If she'd implied that she and Laddie had been held against their will, the police would have attempted to arrest the boys and gotten slaughtered. Neither would out them as Vampires, either, for the same reason. Of course, Star could contact hunters, (If Grampa Emerson knew any others), but they would also kill Michael and probably Alex. It's too late to save Michael, Laddie is already free and Star just wants to get away and put the nightmare behind her.
Hawkins, Indiana, seems to attract sketchy scientists.
The Odd Couple was an old TV show about an uptight neat freak having to share his apartment with a total slob.