Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman (10 page)

Chapter 14

The
next week went by in a blur. When he wasn’t fixing furnaces for the folks
around town, Dallas would drag Stanley to the little cabin in the woods for
training and learning, learning and training.

It
had taken a healthy dose of Dallas’s not inconsiderable charm to smooth over
the group’s ruffled feathers when he dragged Stanley in the day after his first
trip to the clearing. The Society, Colton had forcibly reminded him, was
secret.

“But
he knew Herb, that vampire I did in. Plus, Stanley’s smart. You said there was
book learning to be done. Stanley here loves books, don’t you, Stan.”

“Oh,
heck yeah!” Stanley’s head bobbed in agreement. “T-tom Clancy books,
Do-It-Yourself Potlucks for One books, um.” Stanley wrung his hands, at a loss
to properly explain just how expansive his taste in books was. “All s-sorts of
books.”

Randall
shook his head and Aletia rolled her eyes, but Dallas persisted.

“Look,
we’re a package deal. If I’m in, Stanley’s in. He’ll pull his weight, all
hundred and thirty pounds of it. Scout’s honor,” Dallas pleaded, crossing his
heart and holding up his other hand. “And he’s seen some weird shit too. Stanley,
I told ‘em about the aliens. Tell ‘em about the aliens.”

Stanley’s
eyes went wide as flying saucers. He related the story as requested: leaving
school, walking through the soccer field, the bright flash of light, and waking
up flat on his back with all of his clothes on backward, even his undies. The
telling probably took longer than the story actually merited, but Stanley was
so excited to have an attentive audience that he stuttered more than usual. He
also pointed out to Dallas more than a few times that if he had
known
he’d be telling the story, he
would’ve brought the umbrella to prove he wasn’t just hit by lightning.

“I’ll
bet he’s even got some weird alien powers now,” Dallas added authoritatively
when Stanley’s mouth finally wound down to a stop. “And there was that newbie
fee you talked about. Stan here can pay, can’t you, Stanley.”

While
Stanley excitedly pulled a collection of singles and fives out of his wallet,
Colton put it to a vote. Aletia shrugged her agreement on the condition that Stanley
never, ever be allowed into a fight and stuck to research only. Randall said
he’d be fine with Stanley hanging around because he thought his stuttering was
hilarious. That left Colton.

“Well,”
the Society’s leader started slowly. “I’m intrigued by the aliens, there’s no
doubt about that. It wouldn’t be the first time the Society’s work has tipped
in that direction. Also, good hunters usually have a librarian of sorts,
someone they can turn to for solutions to tough problems.” He paused,
scratching at the few days’ growth shadowing his jaw.

“Oh,
why not? Two can do what one could never, so I guess it works out alright.
Stanley, consider yourself part of the team. Just please,
please
keep this to yourselves. Secret societies don’t stay secret
very long if you run your trap about ‘em.”

Dallas
trained while Stanley studied, and both were properly exhausted by the work.
Evenings were spent drinking beers in the cabin, swapping stories and
good-natured ribbing while genuine friendships blossomed. Dallas learned that
Colton was originally from Minnesota but went to college in England. Dallas
didn’t hold either fact against him though. The two men were cut from the same
sturdy denim and flannel, and they spent hours discussing everything from
fixing sticky carburetors to the crappiest receivers in the NFL. Aletia was
quickly climbing Dallas’s list of the most awesome woman he had ever met. Even
Randall didn’t seem like such a bad guy once you got past his tendency to
whine. More surprisingly, Randall and Stanley found they shared a passion for
both
Jeopardy
and
Veronica Mars.

 
Dallas had never lacked for friends and
admirers, but now half the town thought he was crazy. Even the folks that saw
him stake Herb would roll their eyes when they thought he wasn’t looking. It
made him realize that he had felt very, very alone over the past couple of
months. Now, sitting around a small campfire, drinking beers, having a few
laughs, he felt something he hadn’t in quite a while. Belonging.

“Penny
for your thoughts?” Aletia held out a beer to Dallas and slid her camping chair
closer. They’d had a particularly grueling session on the course and decided to
call it a day.

“Pretty
little thing like you, I’ll share them for free,” Dallas winked. “I was just
reminiscing. Been awhile since I’ve felt so relaxed. It’s,” he fished for the
right word, “nice.”

“Nice,
huh? You never struck me as a ‘nice’ kind of guy. Your friend Stanley, he’s a
nice one. I don’t think that boy has a bad thought in his head. But you?” She
laughed, leaning back and languidly crossing her long legs. “I’d peg you
squarely in the ‘naughty’ box.
Muy
travieso.”

“You’d
have me pretty well pegged, although I don’t think you’ll be getting any gold
stars for sorting that out. I’m not a real complicated fella.”

“Nice
and simple, hmmm? Usted no tiene complicaciones? So that means you’re single.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Aletia still raised an eyebrow.

“Me?
Yep. Not that I haven’t wanted to find a good woman and settle down someday.
Just seems like I do pretty well at the first part but kinda stink at the
second part. How about you?” Dallas asked.

“How
about me?” Aletia replied.

“So,
you and Colton… you know.”

“Know
what?” she responded with a grin.

“Well,
I just sorta figured, I mean. It’s just. You know…”

“You
keep telling me ‘I know’ something, but I still haven’t figured out exactly
what it is you think I know.”

Dallas
exhaled and tried to find his footing.

“Seems
like you two must be an item, is all. I mean, I get Colton being a monster
hunter. Even Randall. You, though… Well, it just seems like a nasty business
for a pretty lady like yourself to be wrapped up in. I did the math. You plus
Randall equals not frickin’ likely, so that leaves you plus Colton.”

Aletia
looked shocked and then laughed. “Por Dios, how I love misogynistic men.
Dallas, here’s some free advice. Never make assumptions. It makes an ass out of
you and ‘umption.’ Now, where do I even start?”

She
took a drink of her beer and drummed her fingers on her thigh.

“Let’s
clear up the basics. First, you suck at math. I’m not out here because I’m with
Colton or anyone else. I’m out here for me. Second, have you bothered to think
about why any of us joined the Society?”

Dallas
reflected. The question had never really occurred to him. The group just seemed
so natural, like they’d been tracking and killing supernatural creatures their
whole lives. The idea of them doing something else, of having lives before
this, hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Guess
I never gave it much thought,” he conceded with a shrug. The conversation
lapsed as the two drank their beers.

“So?”
Aletia prompted.

“Okay,
I’ll bite. Why are they out here?” he asked.

“You’ll
have to ask them.”

“Um,
okay. But why are you? I mean, if you’re not with Colton, what are you doing in
the middle of the Northwoods in a busted up cabin, running around an obstacle
course, and acting all badass?”

“Acting
badass? Is that what you think? This is just an act? Increíble!” Aletia’s voice
lost its playful tone. She set down her beer, stood and reached up to pull at
the collar of her shirt, exposing a snaking scar that ran the length of her
collar bone.

“See
this? Wendigo. Could’ve taken my head off.” Pulling her shirt back up over her
shoulder, she pulled at the hem to expose the side of her stomach.

“Hydra.
Well, one of the heads,” she said, pointing at an oval of small, round scars.
Sitting down again, she rolled up her left pant leg to expose a jagged scar
that wrapped around her ankle and halfway up her calf.

“Keelut.
Inuit spirit that manifests as a hairless dog with really sharp teeth. And this
one,” she continued, pushing up her right sleeve to expose a scar that looked
like another bite, “was an African rompo. Take the worst parts of a badger and
a bear, and stick them on a skeleton body. Scary as hell. They eat corpses, but
I was doing an out-of-body spirit walk. The shaman who was supposed to be
watching my back until my spirit and body were reunited had just gotten cable
and was watching the
Sopranos
. Lucky
for me, he got up to take a piss outside and happened upon the rompo before it
had done more than sampled my arm.”

Aletia
pulled her sleeve back down, leaned forward, and glowered at Dallas. “There are
mucho mas, but we’d have to be in a more intimate setting for you to see them.
Now, do you still think I’m just
acting
badass?”

Dallas
started to sputter an apology when Colton sauntered over and saved him.

“She
showing off her scars again? Pretty great, aren’t they?” Dragging his camping
chair into place, Colton settled in. “Usually, Tia only starts baring her scars
when she’s pissed. What’d you do?”

“I
didn’t do anything!” Dallas protested, looking at her for confirmation.

Aletia
glared at him without speaking for a long moment before calmly turning her back
and walking over to where Randall and Stanley sat playing Scrabble.

“Looks
like you got on her good side,” Colton observed. “Did you take the scenic route
or just drive straight there?”

“Aww,
hell. I didn’t mean to get her all worked up. Not even sure what I did wrong.”

“Don’t
worry yourself too much. Tia’s taken a shine to you, which means she’ll give
you just enough rope to hang yourself with and then give it a sharp tug.”
Colton shook his head in admiration. “She’s a gem, a beautiful, multifaceted
diamond. Careful though. Diamonds also happen to be tougher than tough. So,” he
drawled, settling more comfortably into his chair, “what were you two talking
about, anyway?”

“Well,
honestly, we were talking about you. I mean, not just you, but all of you, and
the Society, and how you all ended up here. And not just like, ‘Wisconsin’
here, but, you know, ‘all over the world hunting monsters’ here.”

“Ah,
that,” Colton said. Giving Dallas a sideways look, he asked, “Did she happen to
tell you?”

“Nope.
I might’ve implied that she was maybe just out here doing this monster hunter
stuff because of the possibility that, um, you and her might be, uh, you
know...” Dallas trailed off lamely.

“Me
and Tia?” Colton exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Lord knows I’ve
dreamt that dream more than a time or two. Fortunately, I’m also just the right
amount of smart to know that if you juggle knives, you won’t end up playing
piano at Carnegie Hall. Nope, you’ve got nothing to worry about, partner. At
least, not from me.”

After
a thoughtful sip of beer, Colton looked more closely at Dallas. “Did she tell
you why she joined the Society?”

Shaking
his head, he explained, “I started to ask, but then things kind of took a turn.
Now I’m curious. Why did she join up?”

“That’s
for her to share, not me. Just be a little more careful the next time you ask
her, so you don’t end up with a cracked jaw or broken wrist.”

After
laughing at Dallas’s disgruntled look, Colton slapped him heartily on the back.

“Don’t
pout. It doesn’t suit you. Now drink up. We’re celebrating, after all.”

“What
are we celebrating?” Dallas asked.

“The
fact that you’re on your way to becoming one helluva hunter. The Society really
is lucky to have you.”

Dallas
felt his face flush as he smiled a broad smile.

“Damn
right. So, can we change the name to the Monster Mavericks?” he asked.

“No.”

“Demon
Demolition Squad?”

“Nope.”

“Frickin’
A-Team. Not the A-Team, that’s taken. But Frickin’ A-Team. I bet we could use
that. Or maybe A-Squad?”

A
few beers and suggestions for names later, Dallas finally called it a night and
headed home. It was still called the Society, but there as always tomorrow.

Chapter 15

The
Get’n’Gobble was busier than a confessional at the Second Coming. The Packers
were playing the Patriots, so folks were hurriedly stocking up on cholesterol
and corn syrup before the game, Dallas and Stanley included.

“M-maple
bacon donuts, Dal?” Stanley asked, holding up the package for approval.

“Put
‘em in the cart, and stop asking stupid questions,” Dallas replied, heading for
the chips.

“Okay
den. You g-get us some chips, and I’ll make for the bean dip.” On a mission,
Stanley raced down the aisle and rounded the corner. The crash of two carts
colliding caused Dallas to turn his head just in time to see the bar of
Stanley’s cart ram him squarely in the gut.

“Stanley!”
he heard Lois cry out.

“Oh,
hey Lois,” Stanley answered with a wide grin. “Shopping for the game, too?
What’cha got? Wow. You g-got some funny ideas about game food. What’s with all
the green stuff?”

“It’s
for Herb. Herbs, I mean. Just, you know, getting some herbs. And I’m fine,
thanks for asking.”

Dallas
could hear the smile in Lois’s voice and realized with a pang that she wasn’t
upset with Stanley. It rankled. Stanley didn’t save her life, he did. Even so,
Dallas was the only person in town Lois had a beef with.

“Herbs,
huh?” Stanley asked. “That’s good, that’s good. I always p-put the herbs in the
hot dishes, or a nice goulash, or cereal. What’cha making?”

“Um,
it’s sort of a, well… I mean, I wasn’t really cooking, exactly.”

“Laundry.
Got it,” Stanley approved with a hearty thumbs up. “You got basil? Basil’s
great for getting the p-pit smells outta your shirts, yes sir.”

As
Stanley moved back, Lois stepped into sight. Besides that morning at Ronnie’s
the previous week, Dallas hadn’t seen her much around town and was struck again
by how she’d changed.

The
Lois that moved to Trappersville about a year earlier was a vibrant spitfire of
a women. Tanned and toned, trimmed in bright nail polish, eyeliner and
lipstick, hair like liquid sunshine, a mouth that could tame a lion, and a
laugh that swept all the shadows from a room. Looking at her now, standing
behind her grocery cart and talking to Stanley about herbs and laundry and
whatever else fell out of Stanley’s head, she was as beautiful as ever. Even
so, Dallas still noticed differences. Like a light on a dimmer, or a fire
burning down to a bed of embers, something in Lois just wasn’t as bright as it
used to be. As Dallas looked, he tried to put his finger on what it was that he
saw. Was it the slightly hunched set of her shoulders, the shadows under her
eyes that the bright blue eyeliner couldn’t quite hide, or the way her smile
didn’t go quite as deep as it should? Whatever it was, it made Dallas suddenly
lonesome.

Lois
turned her head. Their eyes met, causing Dallas to flinch involuntarily. The
smile she’d had for Stanley dropped and shattered like an upended carton of
eggs. Lois’s lips moved, her hand gestured…

Dallas
looked at the jar of olives. There were green olives inside the clear glass
jar. Olives stacked haphazardly on top of one another in the yellowish liquid.
Olives. Green ones. His eyes moved of their own accord to the next row of jars.
Black olives. Like green ones but black. Lots of them in a jar. Lots of black
olives just filling up the glass jar, right up to the lid screwed on top.

He
nodded to himself. Olives. Green ones and black ones. Check, check. Olives.

“Dallas?”

Stanley’s
voice sounded far away. He wasn’t saying ‘olives,’ which was weird. There were
obviously olives here, so what else was there to talk about?

“Hey
Dal? B-big D? You okay?” Stanley asked.

A
voice responded. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place who was
talking.

“Olives,
Stanley. Green ones. Black ones. Olives in jars,” the voice said. A pretty
reasonable voice, too, seeing as how there were definitely olives in jars,
right there on the shelf.

“I,
uh, I thought you hated olives, Dallas,” he heard Stanley say again. Who was he
talking to? More importantly, why was he talking about olives?

“The
hell you talking about, Stanley?” Dallas asked, turning to look at him. The
second that his eyes stopped looking at the jars of olives, the air around his
head seemed to pop. Sticking a finger in an ear and giving it a wiggle, he
squinted first one eye and then the other as he focused on Stanley’s face.
“It’s game day. No time for nonsense, and definitely no time for olives.”

“You
were just,” Stanley started, before stopping, looking confused, and trying
again.

“I
was t-talking to Lois and tr-tried to get you to come over. She’s got a lot of
herbs in that cart of hers, and a lot of them herbs are ones I’ve been talking
to Randall about. Herbs do a lot of stuff, you know. Uff dah. You start looking
at herbs, there j-just ain’t no limit to what you can do. So I was telling Lois
about the herbs I was learning about, and I was g-gonna have you tell her about
the chupacabras and clurichauns and zombies and werewolves and d-devil dogs and
Bigfoot and,”

Dallas
cut in sharply. “Lois was here? When? What were you doing telling her about all
that stuff? Secret Society, remember? Vince Lombardi on game day,” he cursed,
shaking a finger at Stanley. “You gotta lock that shit down. Remember what I
told you about the aliens?”

Stanley’s
face fell as he started to sputter. “B-b-but Dallas, you know
I was abducted. I was! I got the
umbrella. It wasn’t no lightning storm. Them aliens, they took me, pretty as
you please. T-took me up and shot me back and they was real and you
know
they was real!”

“Yeah,
yeah, I know, Stanley. I know,” Dallas soothed, trying to ignore the strange
looks a few other shoppers were slipping their way. “But you gotta remember
what I told you, right? Remember what we talked about?”

Stanley
looked down at his feet and scuffed the linoleum tiles with a loafer. “Yeah, I
know. ‘Aliens don’t like people talking about ‘em. They’re very private types,
and if I talk about ‘em too much, they’ll come back and take my T.V.’”

“And
you like your T.V., don’t you?” Dallas coaxed.

“Yeah,”
Stanley admitted. “You’re right, Dal. I won’t t-talk about the aliens so much.”
Sudden concern drove the chagrin from his face. “Oh crappers, Dal. I told the
Society all about ‘em. You d-don’t think they’re coming b-b-back, do you?”

Dallas
put an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “No way, buddy. No way. But even if
they do, your old pal Dallas is the Hero of Trappersville. I’ll kick their
alien asses straight back to Uranus.” He barked a laugh at his own joke and pulled
Stanley down the aisle, cart wobbling under the weight of their game time
goodies.

“Now
c’mon. Let’s go watch some football.”