"Hey, you can keep snarling all you want, hairball, but I ain't coming down!" Paul was sitting up on the highest branches of a pine tree, smiling down on the werewolf. He was enjoying the sight of the angry werewolf circling the base of the tree, leaping futilely up the trunk while her claws tore out pieces of bark. Unable to get a purchase on the loose layers, she slid back down, further enraging her and causing her to redouble her efforts. My sudden ardor had faded abruptly when I tried to distract her right after Paul leapt into the trees. I thought I had a chance with her, but she was too angry. I think she didn't like a plain old hound of Hell hitting on her while she was in wolf form. On second thought, I wasn't going to expose myself again to the irate lycanthrope, so I stayed hidden.
In the distance, a series of howls rose in cadence. The werewolf ceased her attacks on the tree and cocked her head to the side. I didn't understand what the howls were communicating, but I knew they distracted the werewolf. With a growl of disgust, she ran into the woods, in the opposite direction of the howling. Now that it was safe for Paul to climb back down, I emerged from my hiding place. I couldn't help noticing the big grin on Paul's face as he leaned against the tree trunk.
"That was a close call, Thorn," said Paul, "now let's go to where we were suppose to go before we met up with the big bad she-wolf!"
The guy was truly fearless, I must admit, and he walked like he knew these woods. The fresh scent of the redwoods and pines soon gave way to the odor of marijuana. We arrived at the edge of a modest patch of the stuff; the plants were lush and well tended, a sign that the farmers took very good care of their crop. On the other side, a small barn-like structure hunkered down between two large redwoods. There were no lights on in the barn, but a single outdoor light cast a wan glow over the doorway of the barn. The pool of light didn't reach beyond a couple of feet from the barn door. There was a distant murmuring, and the strange aroma of burning pot wafted from the redwood to the right of the barn.
Paul began to take a more cautious approach, pausing at certain points and checking for tripwires and such. The closer we made our way through the weed patch, the more distinct the voices became, but we still couldn't see the talkers. I made my way forward while Paul went to the right and out of the patch, disappearing into the shadows of the forest edge. Perhaps the werewolf gave Paul an appetite because I sensed he was going into stalking mode, merging with the darkness and waiting to pounce on his unwary victims. I stealthily made my way out of the weed garden, stepping out and crouching down on my belly to avoid detection. It didn't matter how careful I was in the end though. The two potheads sitting at the base of one of the large redwoods were totally oblivious, their minds already wasted.
xXx
"Dude, I told you to never light a roach that way! You're just wasting paper and the weed."
"Okay, okay, here, is that right, Pete?" The second smoker held up a joint. "How come it looks smaller? I was hoping for a big ass joint and all I got is this."
"Jake, you're always obsessing about the size. Why don't you think about something else other than size for a change? Like those howls we heard earlier; where do you think they were coming from?" Pete still had some of his wits about him, but he was slowly catching up to Jake in the high department. "Besides, it's all about quality, not quantity. This is some good weed!"
"Oh man, I nearly went ape shit when I heard those dogs howl," Jake said as he lit his joint. "I thought I was starting to turn into a dog from all the grass I've been smoking."
"Makes you think of all those stories you hear, huh? Missing people, missing pets, and all of the weird crap that the police and the town council people don't want you to know or hear about," said Pete. He took a deeper drag on his joint. "Sweet Mary Jane that really hits the spot!"
Jake looked up into the night sky. "Makes you wonder indeed. Dude, ever wonder what happened to Bob? All I found last week were his sandals, pipe, and lighter. It was like he disappeared from the face of the earth."
"The asshole probably wandered off after taking a big hit, and woke up in some place other than Santa Carla, barefoot and very hungry. Don't worry, he'll turn up, and then we'll have to go pick him up."
"He's never been gone this long," Jake replied, "and you know he never leaves his pipe behind. That guy would let go of his girlfriend first before letting go of his pipe."
"Tell me something I don't know-what the hell, did you hear that?" Pete tried to stand up, unsteadily grasping for the flashlight that lay beside him. "Man, I don't know if it's the weed that's making those noises or if it's Bob coming back." Getting a firm grasp on the flashlight, Pete flicked it on. The beam sliced through the darkened patch, illuminating the plants. Nothing moved in the light.
"What was it? What did you hear?" Jake giggled. "Were you trying to scare me? Sit your ass back down, there's nothing out there."
"Could be the raccoons and possums again or the coyotes. You know how they like to sniff around here," said Pete. "How's the dope?"
"You were right. This is really good shit, and it's making me see things, like that guy with big blonde hair crawling up and around those trees over there when you first turned on the flashlight."
"You saw what?" Pete started to laugh as he sat back down, leaving the flashlight on. "Quit shitting me, and let's have another hit. After that we could eat those hamburgers I got stashed in the barn. Hey, you're starting to look like a dog!"
xXx
I could see Paul making his way from tree to tree, steadily creeping up on the potheads. At some point he had taken off his boots, and he was using his clawed toes to help grasp and maintain his hold on the surface of the trunk. He glided at times when the spaces between the trees were too great for an easy leap. The kid knew what he was doing.
Creeping forward on my belly, I made my way close enough to smell the aroma of food in the barn. Paul was nowhere to be seen yet, but I could hear his stealthy progress up in the trees. The soft scrabbling of his claws was closer now, and when I peered up, I saw Paul on the same redwood where the two smokers sat, high above them. He was upside down, his arms holding him slightly away from the surface of the trunk. His eyes glittered in the dark, and his fangs gleamed. I knew he was smiling up there. Slowly, he started to descend the trunk like a big blonde squirrel, and when he was close enough to one of the smoking men, he struck quickly, grabbing him and instantly flying straight up into the air, the breeze of his passage the only sign he was ever there. The bewildered victim didn't have time to scream. It happened so fast that the other guy didn't realize his friend had disappeared; only the sudden breeze that flashed by him stirred him from his drug induced stupor and into a semblance of sobriety.
"Jake? Where'd you go?" The other guy looked around, his eyes bleary.
I trotted forward into the light and sat in front of him. He appeared totally out of it. He craned his head, looking for his friend who had sat right next to him only a few minutes ago. His gaze passed over me a few times before his eyes focused well enough to see me.
"Aw jeez, you really did turn into a dog! How am I going to explain this to the other guys?"
Exasperated, I barked at him once. I would have torn him apart had it not been for the return of Paul. He landed again on the same redwood, looking down at us with his blood-smeared gargoyle face and smiling. He wasn't content yet.
"Do you want another joint?" asked the remaining pothead before Paul swooped down and carried him away. I heard him feeding on his victim high in the trees; his feast punctuated at times by the wild cackling of his laughter echoing in the night air. Thankfully, there were no werewolves or other marijuana caretakers nearby. They would have investigated the noise, so we were left alone for the moment. All the excitement earlier had given me a bit of an appetite, and the aroma of hamburgers was too tempting to resist. I left Paul to finish his meal and followed my nose.
The barn door wasn't locked when I went to investigate it. Nudging it with my nose, it managed to swing in a little, letting me slip inside enough to push the door wide open. The moonlight streaming through the windows illuminated the bundles of dried marijuana piled along the sides. The whole space had the musty odor of long time use, and the farming implements were heaped against the walls of the old stalls that once held livestock. One of the stalls had been used as an impromptu eating area, enlarged to accommodate a couple of diners. There was a small table with two chairs, and on one side, a pallet of sorts was placed on the ground. The bag of food was on top of the pallet, lying on its side with its contents spilling out. It smelled wonderful, but the stench of marijuana didn't help my appetite, so I took the bag outside and tore it open. The hamburgers were very good, and for once I was beginning to think Paul was the best dog walker of the lot. Who else would allow me to eat junk food? I could have used a bit of hot raw meat to supplement some of my meals though.
"Hey Thorn, you scored some good food tonight!" The blonde vampire sauntered over, having put his boots back on after feeding. Streaks of blood covered his cheeks and pants; his hair was splattered with it, and his eyes looked glazed. "Wow, you're eating that food really slow, like it's in slow motion, and your jowls are going flap-flap-flap. Man, your hamburgers smell so good!" He squatted down next to me, looking up at the night sky while thin rivulets of blood made their way down his neck from his blonde locks. "I never knew there were so many stars. Like they're glowing like neon points, and hey, they're forming into a message!" He was sitting there, enraptured by the starry night when a frown appeared, crinkling his forehead. "Dude, that's not cool; it's in some stupid code or something, like all dots and shit. How am I suppose to read the message if they don't have a friggin' codebook to go with it? Somebody must have messed up big time. Hey wait, I wonder if I could control the arrangement, like have them form letters or some sort of bat signal or...or...or a big sign that says David likes to sleep with a teddy bear or Dwayne's real name is Horace...or something really weird and funny like that. Oh man, I could go on and on!" Paul's frown deepened, his thoughts concentrating with inhuman effort to put the stars at his command.
I barked at him to get him to move, but he was deep in his own little world.
"Connect the dots! It must be a giant page of connect the dots! Is that it? Lemme go find a pencil so I could find the words and pictures. "
Vampires and the blood of potheads do not make a great combination. Paul was definitely smashed.
xXx
Being the sober one, I patiently listened to Paul's monologue. He was coming up with a few more ridiculous slogans to plaster across the sky when the howls started up again, and this time, they sounded close enough to pull him out of his little pot dream.
"I guess it's time for us to finish our walk, Thorn," Paul stood up, swaying slightly. "I think you should lead this time because I don't know if I can find my way back with all these trees in the way. Hey wait, wait, that's cool, I can hear the trees growing! Come along now, little devil-pooch, before the hairy pack arrives."
We quickly followed a path that headed west, towards the coast and home. This part of the forest was older, and the redwoods were larger, surrounded by smaller redwoods. Their branches formed a perforated screen for the moonlight to filter through and dapple the forest floor. The path looked well-traveled, and it wasn't overgrown as much with sword ferns and low lying brush. As we made our way down, we came upon a campsite that lay adjacent to the trail. There were signs that it had been recently vacated, since the occupants didn't bother to fully extinguish their campfire. I sniffed around, and beneath the evergreen aroma of the forest, there was werewolf spoor everywhere, but no sign of the campers. Everything appeared in order. It was strange, and I started to suspect the pack we heard earlier may be connected with this little enigma. I was heading for one of the tents when I saw something flickering out of the corner of my eye.
Paul was walking around in circles, looking off into the woods, when the same flickering caught his attention. "What's that glowing over there? Is there a light show or something?"
There were also noises accompanying the glow. It didn't sound threatening, nor did the atmosphere around it convey a sense of foreboding. Everything felt normal, no matter what my sense of smell was telling me, yet there was a very strong odor of werewolves emanating from that flickering glow. A thick screen of ferns, redwood saplings, and leafy shrubs blocked whatever action was going on. Curiosity got the better of us, urging us towards the light. Paul inched forward, turning to me once and putting a finger to his lips. We were at the natural barrier of trees and shrubs, their leaves and small branches fracturing the scene into a jigsaw pattern of moving bodies and dancing flames. I stuck my head through for a clearer view.
A bonfire had been set, its glow bathing the clearing with a ruddy light that flickered among the surrounding trees, making the shadows leap and caper like dark demons. Two werewolves were on the ground, beside the bonfire, their bodies entwined in an intimate embrace at times and moving nearly in time to the flickering flames. Their somewhat soft, guttural growls and snarls were the noises we heard. It looked like we were witnessing a rare mating scene. I felt like a peeping tom; now I know why some humans don't like it when their pets watch them during their intimate coital exercises. The actions of the werewolf couple started to speed up, their movements becoming frenetic as they neared their moment of release. A slight rustling to my right alerted me to the appearance of another peeping tom, namely Paul. He stared at what was before him, the expressions on his face ranging from awe to delight at watching something very naughty. Then Paul did something I should have expected. He burst out laughing.
One of the werewolves-I think it was the male-looked up suddenly, his rhythmic action ceasing altogether. This guy was one big brute. His thick fur was charcoal black, streaked with tan on his legs and chest. The other werewolf growled a query and then raised her head, turning slightly to get a better look at us. Unfortunately, she wasn't the same werewolf we met earlier that evening. Paul's laughter still echoed in the now silent clearing, and for a brief moment, we all stared at each other. I was trying to think of something when I noticed the shirt with colorful fishes lying not too far from the werewolves. Old Fish Shirt was having fun tonight, and he brought his video camera and tripod along too. The female wolf sat up, glaring at us with hatred while Fish Shirt flung his head back and howled. It was time for us to leave, so I turned and ran back to the trail with Paul following happily. He was right behind me, and at one point, I felt him grab my tail, yanking it pretty hard. The werewolf couple crashed through the woods behind us, their long strides giving them an advantage, but the trees blocked them from using their speed.
We weren't going to make it by trying to outrun the two werewolves. I was hoping Paul would take to the air soon so I could run without worrying about leading him through areas he would be too big to hide in. We also had to beat the sunrise. I would be okay in the sunlight, but not Paul. The trail we were on started to slope gently downhill, the redwood forest giving way almost abruptly to the drier chaparral of open grasslands and oak woodlands. In the open, the werewolves would be able to catch up. They were not so far behind us, baying loud enough to wake the dead of Santa Carla. With his brain still on the wacky weed, Paul laughed behind me, and then I heard him take off, flying over me. The werewolves howled in protest when they saw the vampire fly away, but they didn't slow down. I was left to my own devices once again.
Fish Shirt and his friend were still after me, but I knew I could outrun them now that I didn't have Paul to worry about. The trail fell steeply as it reached a small creek lined with more trees and dense shrubs, poison oak included, and there it followed a parallel course. As I made my way to the bank, I leapt into the creek, swimming and running at times since the water wasn't as deep as I thought. After heading downstream for a while, I climbed out and walked to an area of thick brambles and brush, hunkering down amidst berry vines. Upstream, the werewolves stopped at the edge, sniffing at my tracks. They were still eager to follow me, but the sudden chorus of howls from the redwood forests attracted their attention, and with disgruntled snarls, they both turned back, heading uphill to join the others. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Now it was time to head back. Emerging from my hiding place, I followed an old animal trail that meandered downhill and into a grove of live oaks. I could now see the lights of downtown Santa Carla twinkling in the thin marine fog that lingered between the hills as it made its way down to the sea.
My paws finally hit pavement, and as I passed the residential homes, I thought I felt somebody watching me. Looking up, I saw a figure leaning against one of the old trees that lined the streets. The silhouette looked familiar, too familiar, and when I was close enough, I recognized the lanky figure of Dwayne. He looked down at me with a smile playing about his lips.
"Had a rough night?" he asked. In the distance, the faint howls of the werewolves could be heard. Dwayne looked up, "I bet you and Paul had something to do with those hairballs, right?" He chuckled softly and began to walk. "Come on Thorn, I'll take you back to the cave."
It was a rough night indeed. A bit sore from all the running, I did my best just to keep up with the dark vampire. Throughout our return journey, I kept thinking about Dwayne. How did he know I'd be on that street? And how did he know about the werewolves?
"Oh great, you found him!" David swooped down, landing lightly beside Dwayne as we walked down the coastal road that led to the cave. "Any sign of Paul yet?"
Dwayne shook his head. He picked up his pace though, heading for a thin grove of eucalyptus trees. I could see Marko there, looking up at something.
"You guys ever see anything like this?" The short vampire pointed up into the branches. "He won't wake up!"
David lit a cigarette and peered into the trees, "I guess we'll just have to leave Paul up there when dawn comes around."
"Did you try to knock him down with something, anything?" asked Dwayne.
"No, I haven't tried that yet. Here, give me that stick," answered Marko.
Paul was upside down, nestled in the fork of the tallest eucalyptus tree. We could hear him snoring loudly. Unaware of what he was doing, he must have flown upside down most of the way, finally crashing into the branches because there was no possible way he could have flown knowingly into the tree to land in that position.
"I say we leave him," said David.
"No can do, David," smiled Marko, "I can't leave him here to bake." He flew up into the tree, prodding the sleeping vampire with the stick. "Wake up, Paul!" When that didn't work, Marko did the next best thing. He unhooked Paul's legs from the tree and shoved him over the side.
Paul's descent was like watching one of those sticky, rubbery spider-like toys tumbling down a wall. He was all arms, legs, and big blonde hair. Landing with a boneless thump at the base of the tree, he managed to wake up. Shaking off the dirt in his hair, he looked around in bewilderment. "Wow that was a great trip!"
David rolled his eyes and started to fly away. The others followed while Paul stayed behind. He grinned apologetically and flashed me the peace sign when I trotted by him. "Sorry about leaving you back there, Thorn."
Well, the night could have been much, much worse. I just hope the werewolves never find out where we lived. To show there were no hard feelings between us, I walked beside him.
"What do you think, Thorn? Do you think those hairballs will remember us if we see them again? How about the other one, the she-wolf from earlier that evening, do you think--"
I let him drone on and on. David and the other two won't be having peaceful naps today.
xXx
Author's Notes: This chapter turned out to be Paul and Thorn's raunchy journey into adult video stores, werewolf 'mating rites', and marijuana use. I had thought about putting these two chapters under a mature rating, but after proofreading, I realized that there wasn't much in the story to justify the rating. I went for the suggestive rather than the graphic instead.
The adult video store from the previous chapter and the tryst between the two werewolves in the clearing in this chapter are my little homage to the werewolf film "The Howling." If you get the chance, watch it along with "An American Werewolf in London."