If you’ve come this far, thank you for your patience, both with my timing and with the subject matter. Here is the conclusion. Hope you like it.
Saturday, March 25th. It was the longest day of her life. Both Bobby and Ray had come over and had spent the better part of the day helping Jerry abuse her in new and more amusing ways. By afternoon both her eyes were black and her jaw was swollen on the left side. Her right wrist was still swollen and she had bruises covering most of her body. As the day, and her torment, droned on, Becky endured silently, only maintaining her sanity by repeatedly telling herself that it was almost over.
After supper Jerry told her to get back in her closet, and he’d come lock her in. Without a word, Becky obeyed. Normally she’d be the after-dinner entertainment, but if they were going out early, so much the better. It would give her a chance to rest up for her escape tonight. Jerry let her out about 7:30 to go to the bathroom and gave her a sandwich and glass of water before putting her back in the closet and making a show of locking the door.
She had expected another beating, but it never came. Not that she minded being left alone, of course. She didn’t dwell on it much. She was just thankful for small favors.
She heard them slam the front door and drive off in Jerry’s pickup. After a few minutes, when the house was quiet, she retrieved the key and unlocked the closet door. She peered cautiously into the deserted hallway, half expecting a trap. Other than herself, the house was empty.
Minutes later Becky was in the bedroom, dressing herself in one of Jerry’s old chambray work shirts as quickly as her sore, bruised body would allow. She tried on an old pair of his tennis shoes, but they were comically too big for her feet, so she settled for two pairs of his socks.
Another few minutes later she slipped out of the house for the last time, looking back once more at the closet door which had held her prisoner. Then she turned and headed for Zeke’s. She never saw that closet door again. Nor did she notice Jerry’s pickup parked down the street in Ray’s driveway.
Zeke’s, The Trucker’s Haven. Just off I-69 at the exit to Bartlett. The main building housed the restaurant, gift shop, rest rooms and showers for truckers and travelers of all types. It boasted ten diesel fueling stations on the south lot and twelve gasoline fueling stations in front, with enough parking to accommodate thirty trucks and twenty cars. Open 24 by 7, there was always someone at Zeke’s.
And now there was someone behind Zeke’s, walking toward an overgrown footpath which lead into a section of woods bordering on Yellowwood State Forest, wearing a man’s shirt several sizes too big for her and placing her stockinged feet gingerly on the gravel that defined the end of the service road.
And now there was someone else behind Zeke’s, staying well behind the first figure, carrying what looked like a miniature baseball bat; a tool the truckers referred to as a ‘tire thumper.’ This second someone was joined by two companions, each carrying their own make-shift weapons—a tire iron and a large kitchen knife.
They waited beside the dumpster and watched until the first figure had disappeared into the woods. Then, with a grim nod at his companions, the second someone led the way onto the path after her.
Once in the woods, Becky had to slow her pace. Out of the range of streetlamps from Zeke’s, her journey was illuminated only by the gibbous moon peeking through the trees. The further she went into the woods, the more difficult it was to see. By the time she reached the campsite, her eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit and she sat down on a large stone in front of the firepit, wondering if it would be wise to hide in the nearby undergrowth until Werewolf arrived.
Of course he’ll be in human form tonight. The moon’s not full enough to transform. Or, maybe he’s really a vampire. That’s what he told me, after all.
She grinned weakly at her own humor, trying to convince herself that the idea was nothing more than a jest. She was alone in the woods at night, with nothing but the sound of peepers and tree frogs to keep her company. When their cacophony abruptly subsided, the grin faded from her face.
Someone was approaching. Someone with a powerful flashlight, which should have been comforting, except that it was pointed directly at her face. She turned her eyes away too late. She was temporarily blinded.
Then her heart sank as a familiar voice said, “Well, son of a bitch! You were right, Ray. I guess I owe you a six pack after all.” Before she could react, the tire thumper connected with the side of her head and she slumped to the ground.
“It’s about time you showed up! You are her knight in shining armor, right? Where the Hell have you been, son?”
Becky was dreaming. In the dream Jerry and another man were facing off for a gunfight. They were about to shoot it out and she was the prize. In her dream, she was lying by a campfire on a wet, red blanket. Then she saw the man’s face. It was a wolf who had come to save her.
Realization dawned and she opened her eyes. This was no dream, although she was beside a small fire. She lay on a red blanket, or, more accurately, in a red pool. She ached all over as if someone had beaten her with a…
Oh, of course. Someone had.
Her vision was doubled and everything seemed hazy and dreamlike. Her attention was drawn to that cute guy from the wedding picture standing close to the fire, surrounded by Jerry, Ray and Bobby. He had walked into a trap! She had to warn him! Fighting the pain and dizziness, she tried to get up.
“Werewolf, don’t…” was all she could whimper before Bobby shut her up with a blow from his tire iron. Pain flared in her arm where the metal struck and she heard the bone break. She fell back to the dirt, unable to move. She grimaced and blinked back tears. Judging by the pain in her ribs and left thigh, the arm wasn’t the only thing that had been broken tonight.
“Okay, you know who I am. Now, who the hell are you?”
“Oh!, I’m soooo sorry! Where are my manners?” Jerry sneered.
Blackness threatened to overtake Becky’s mind and she fought to remain awake. Fading in and out of consciousness, she couldn’t keep track of their conversation. She was jolted awake by a crunching noise accompanied by Bobby’s voice screaming in pain. In her mind Becky grinned to herself. Maybe this would turn out alright after all.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH! That does it!” Jerry bellowed. Then there was a gunshot. Becky was pretty sure it was Jerry’s Colt 1908 pocket pistol, the one he called his ‘pea shooter.’
She could barely move, but she had to know. And when she forced her eyes open, her worst fears were confirmed. Werewolf had a large hole in the center of his forehead. His body apparently didn’t know he was dead yet, because he hadn’t fallen down. Her heart went out to him. He had come to help her, was murdered for his trouble and there was nothing she could do about it. Her conscience told her that his death was her fault, but she knew that her guilt would be short lived. The next bullet would be for her.
Then the impossible happened.
“Lousy shot, Jerr. Are you sure that thing’s loaded?”
Did the bullet miss him? No, the hole was still in his forehead, but he was alive!
…to be completely honest, I’m a vampire, but the name Dracula was already taken…
As the battle turned, that age-old knowledge she’d carried with her ever since 5th grade came back.
Monsters are really real.
She was looking at one, though it obviously wasn’t a werewolf. Even Betty Jo would have agreed, though it still looked pretty much like the guy she met on Baal. Only the face had changed. The eyes had become small points of red fire and fangs protruded from its mouth, preparing to rip out Jerry’s throat. Becky watched in horrid fascination as the monster drew its victim close for the kill. Her mind was reeling, trying to grasp the scene unfolding before her.
And then it clicked. He was a vampire. And he was about to bite Jerry, which would make him a vampire, too!
Becky cried out a small, desperate, “No!”
The monster hesitated at her cry. For a moment, everything was still. In her mind she saw visions of Jerry and his buddies continuing to torment her, but now they had glowing red eyes and long, sharp fangs. As the undead, they would live forever; torment her forever. She couldn’t allow that.
“Don’t hurt them.” she pleaded, “Please. You’ve got me. Let them go.”
Too weak to hold herself up, she dropped back into her expanding pool of blood. She must have blacked out again because the next thing she knew, the others were gone and Werewolf was in front of her, his face showing great concern. He looked normal again, except for the bullet hole in his head.
Her mind was lost in a whirlwind, part of her wondering how he could possibly be alive, part of her trembling in the knowledge that he wasn’t, and part of her not caring, just glad that he had come. As he reached for her, she found the terror more powerful than the gratitude.
“It’s alright now. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” And then, “You’re bleeding pretty badly.”
But Becky was barely listening to his words. Her mind was too busy replaying every vampire movie she had ever seen. None of them cast the monster as the good guy. But if he wasn’t the good guy, then who was? Maybe there would be another plot twist and the good guy would show up.
Or worse, maybe there was no good guy.
Then it no longer mattered. The movie was over. Becky watched the screen fade to black and waited for the credits to roll. She liked reading the credits after a movie. Now she’d find out who the good guy was.
But, instead of credits, she heard more dialogue.
“Becky, listen to me. I need you to hang on a few more minutes. Here, swallow this.”
A week later, in his garage, Jerry Felder’s birthday celebration was finally over. It had been pretty fucking spectacular, though not quite as satisfying as it would have been if his ole’ lady had been there.
But no problem; he’d found another girl to take her place. Ray and Bobby had come over. Bobby was still on crutches from that fight behind Zeke’s (and they’d put those crutches to good use, hadn’t they?) His wristwatch now read 11:56 p.m. and his friends had gone home.
The new girl, if she were conscious, would probably agree with Becky that monsters are really real. She was slumped on the floor of the garage, bruised and bloody from the ‘spectacular show’ she had recently starred in. Jerry was amusing himself one last time before calling it a night. His amusement was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Sweet Christ, Ray! Can’t you even give us a moment of privacy?” Jerry swore as he opened the door.
But it wasn’t Ray.
Kneeling just outside the door, wearing a large chambray work shirt with enough of the top unbuttoned to show her body beneath was his old lady. Her wounds and bruises were gone and her face looked as young and vibrant as the first day he met her. She looked up at him with those big green eyes and said, “Happy Birthday.”
Jerry’s reaction was to jump back in fear, tripping over the lawn mower and falling on his ass, his look of stark terror nearly comical. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a silver cross, which he’d kept on a chain around his neck ever since the big fight last Saturday. Holding it in front of himself, he croaked at Becky, “You’re not welcome here! Go away!”
“Will you at least listen? Please?” her tone was subdued and she didn’t move.
Jerry thought for a second. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as an ugly, little smile formed on his lips, “Okay. Sure, I’ll listen to you. All you gotta do is grab hold of this cross. Then I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”
Becky’s hand reached out calmly and he pressed the metal into her palm.
No reaction. No fire or smoke. No sizzling flesh.
She held onto the cross for a moment, curling her fingers around it, and brought it to her lips. Looking him right in the eye, she licked it seductively before letting it go.
The obvious question was painted on Jerry’s face and Becky answered it.
“He never bit me. He kept swearing his eternal love, but wouldn’t even touch me without asking permission. How could I love a man like that?”
“Oh, sure! And he just let you go, right?”
“He let you go when I told him to, didn’t he? He did everything I said. He told me I was the reincarnation of a woman he had loved before, that I would remember after a while and that I would grow to love him again, but he was wrong. I could never love a monster like that.
“After a few days, when I was still unhappy, he offered to give me anything I desired, ” she looked down, coyly, “I told him that I desired you. I never realized it before, but you’re the kind of man I want, Jerry. The only real man I’ve ever been with.”
Jerry felt himself rising to the occasion at her last words, but part of him still wasn’t convinced. Although, for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why.
She was absolute perfection; her rich, luxurious hair, her perfect, unblemished body, her full red lips and her brilliant green eyes—he could get lost in those eyes. Her scent was positively erotic—a delicious female musk hinting of desire and passion, with just a hint of… cinnamon, maybe?
But as enticing as she appeared, there was definitely something wrong about her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Unphased by his lack of response, Becky continued, “He got really mad at me then. He cursed and yelled.” Her hypnotic eyes bore into his. “Then he cried.”
Jerry’s eyes lit up. He inhaled her musk deeply. If anything, it made her more irresistible than before.
She continued. “I argued with him until finally he let me go. And I made him promise never to bother you or your friends.”
Jerry was sold, although he didn’t want her to know that. He needed to maintain the upper hand here, keep her off balance. He challenged her.
“So, why’d you wait ’til nightfall to show up? Why didn’t you come during the day?”
“He just let me go a few hours ago. I took a taxi straight here – I even made him pay for it. I wanted to show up in time for your birthday. But I could wait out here until morning if you like and when the sun comes up you’ll see that I’m nothing to be afraid of.”
Again, the wheels turned fast and furious in Jerry’s mind as he considered his options; First of all, he wasn’t afraid of anything. He’d fought a vampire and walked away unharmed. Second, the cross didn’t hurt her. He’d seen enough movies to know that vampires can’t touch crosses. Third, her story could be true. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find that all vampires are as sappy as that one obviously was. What a fucking loser!
And finally, she had leaned slightly forward as she spoke, causing the shirt to hang open even more, exposing those ripe little tits that were positively begging to be used by him—the only real man she had been with. Adding all those points in his head, he made his decision.
“Alright,” looking at his watch, “But it’s past midnight. My birthday is officially over now. Hell, it’s not even March anymore, so you’ll have to apologize for being late. I’ve also recruited another girl, so the two of you will have to learn to play together nicely.”
“I don’t mind.”
“One last thing. That shirt. He gave it to you?”
“Well, I don’t like it. So take it off and get your ass in here.”
Becky stood and walked inside the garage, closing the door behind her. She began to slowly remove the shirt, as if doing a strip tease for him.
” There was a message he wanted me to give you.”
Jerry’s eyes were glued to her body as she revealed herself completely. She was even more perfect than he had remembered. Her skin was pristine, with not a single blemish anywhere. Barely listening, he replied, “Oh, yeah? And what’s that? Happy Birthday?”
Becky stepped forward and smiled a toothy smile, displaying her long sharp incisors.
“April Fools…” she replied.
In the past week Becky learned a great deal from her new master. The movies had gotten it completely wrong. She knew, now, that it wasn’t the cross which posed a deterrent to their kind, it was the faith of the wielder, assuming they had any. Jerry had none. She knew that she couldn’t enter a house, or attached garage, unless invited by the owner. Jerry had invited her in.
But, most importantly, she now understood that drinking a victim’s blood—even to the point of exsanguination—did not turn humans into vampires. She’d joined the undead only because her master offered her his own blood. It was his gift to her and she had accepted gratefully.
She let her tongue flick over her fangs seductively. Her eyes shone like small points of red fire. Her fingers hooked into claws. She grinned maliciously at the growing look of terror on Jerry’s face.
It was going to be a long night. This evening there would be Hell to pay, but this time she was not the debtor. She let the shirt fall to the floor and stepped forward to embrace her old lover.
Thank you for reading “Wolf Girl”. I hope you enjoyed it. As I said in an earlier post, it’s the first story I ever had published. You can find more on Amazon Kindle.
Talk with you again, soon.