Calvin spent the whole day feeling like there was a giant shoe hanging over his head and it was just about to drop. Math class, lunch, and swim practice all occurred in their blissfully normal routines, however. He kept a close eye on Logan, but his friend displayed no overt signs of being a villainous mastermind. There was the very real possibility that Logan was an unwitting pawn in Marla or Sara's schemes, but there was little that Calvin could do about that right now. Still, that feeling of looming dread persisted all through the afternoon.
Calvin had just about convinced himself that he was being paranoid when a shotgun blast ripped through the windshield of the Hyundai on his way home from swim practice.
"Hurry, dammit!" Someone snarled in a gruff voice.
Two men with ski masks on their heads came darting out of the woods. Calvin winced as he saw them approach. Several slugs or pellets or whatever the hell they were had lodged themselves painfully in his torso. Both men smashed the windows of Calvin's front doors so they could point their shotguns at him more menacingly.
"Don't try it, freak! I'll fill you up fuller of lead than my Aunt Martha’s gut at an all you can eat buffet!" One of the gunmen growled. "We know what y’all can do."
Calvin groaned and looked down at the bloody ruin of his t-shirt. "Then you have to know how phenomenally stupid what you just did was."
"I said-" he started another threat that he never finished. Calvin twisted around, transforming as he did so, and smacked the shotgun out of that one's hands. Calvin picked the now unarmed man up and hurled him at his fellow thug. The two of them went down in a scrambling, cursing heap and Calvin pounced on them, teeth bared mere inches from their faces.
"Wait!" One of them pleaded. "We'll tell y’all who sent us, just don't kill us dead!"
Calvin hadn't planned on killing them, but he saw no reason to let them know that. "You better talk fast," he growled.
"Herbert! It were old Herbert! He wanted us to steal Miss Avery's prize cow so he can figure out how to make the werewolves in his big ol’ clan into freaks like you! Everybody knows Miss Avery has got more power right now than my cousin Burt’s got bourbon on his breath and they'll all be gunning for you! Please, that's all I know, I'm just a working stiff - I ain't got no big fancy bosses looking after me!"
Calvin pulled his snarling maw full of teeth away from their throats by just a hair. “What are your names?”
“I’m Festus and this here is my brother Darryl. Our other brother Darryl is driving the old pickup truck parked up ahead a ways. We call her Gertrude. The pickup, not Darryl, he ain’t no lady,” Festus explained nervously.
A thought suddenly occurred to Calvin. “How would you boys like to have someone look after you?” The two idiots in front of him looked to be a few years older than Calvin, but somehow calling them boys seemed like the only proper way to address them.
“I guess that depends on how you mean look after us.” Festus gulped. “Our momma was real keen on lookin’ after us ‘til we done pissed her off and then all she’d want to do was wallop on us with the cat. You wouldn’t think a tabby would hurt much, but ol’ Stripes didn’t like being flung about by the tail like that and she’d sink her claws into you if you didn’t duck fast enough.”
Calvin stared at Festus for a long moment. He hadn’t meant to do it as a form of intimidation, he had just been thoroughly perplexed and horrified by what the young hillbilly had said about being hit with the family cat. However, Festus and Darryl had both evidently considered Calvin’s silence to be incredibly threatening and both of them had pissed their pants.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Calvin had finally said, “No, no cat-beatings or any other kind of beatings. I assume all three of you are werewolves?”
Festus nodded. “Yes, sir. Our daddy was a were and he done passed it on to teach of us when we was old enough. That was before he run oft with that trollop of a cashier from the Piggly Wiggly’s, of course. Mamma ain’t never set foot in a Piggly Wiggly’s since then. Except when she got drunk that once and tried to burn the place down, but she didn’t hurt nothin’ except some watermelons so alls we had to do was pay for the melons and haul her home.”
“Then consider yourselves under my protection,” Calvin told them. “I need people loyal to me who can help protect my friends and family. Can I count on you boys?”
Festus nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes sir! Yes sir, indeed! We know all about keepin’ kith and kin safe! It’s the one good thing our daddy taught us, according to mamma!”
Calvin stood, allowing Festus and Darryl to stand. “I suppose we had better tell your other brother Darryl about your new allegiance.”
“Great plan, hoss. You seem like a real smart feller. I bet we’re loads better off sticking with you than we were as freelancers,” Festus gushed. He pulled Darryl to his feet and the two of them wiped the dirt off their overalls...well, most of the dirt.
“I sure hope so,” Calvin replied. He looked at his ruined car, the torn clothes in the drivers, and realized he was going to be running home through the woods in werewolf form.
“Don’t you worry none about your car, hoss,” Festus assured Calvin. “Darryl’s real good at automotive workins. We’ll get your ride runnin’ all smooth like and then get it back to you. Say, that reminds me, how are we gonna get in contact with you?”
Calvin gave Festus his phone number and discovered that the brothers were staying--shockingly--in a trailer park on the outskirts of town. He bid the dimwitted brothers farewell and then headed home.
When Calvin reached his parents’ house he found his mother upset. “Calvin Douglas!” his mother chided. “There is another pack of mangy werewolves hanging around waiting for you again! I won’t stand for it!”
Calvin wondered when his mother, the same woman who had worn a pink Hard Rock Cafe tank top to Gemma’s confirmation, had decided she was some kind of fancy, high society lady, but he let it go. “I just need to get some clothes, mom. Then I’ll go talk to them.”
“You had better, young man! And what are you doing traipsing around as a werewolf? Just because you can be a werewolf whenever you like doesn’t mean you should!”
Calvin sighed. “Yes, mom.” He went upstairs, turned back into a human, and got dressed.
Out on the lawn one of the werewolves politely asked permission to conduct business in his territory, which Calvin gladly agreed to, but what he hadn’t counted on was another one of them being in the business of stabbing him between the ribs. Calvin cried out in pain and then his parents’ front lawn quickly disintegrated into a battle royale.
At least two other werewolves were in on the ambush, but another six or so were on the level. Some pulled out hatchets or machetes, but the rest had knives. Calvin wondered if he was about to create some kind of new folk saying in the werewolf community about dumbasses bringing knives to a werewolf fight. He transformed into a werewolf, ruining his second set of clothes that evening. He picked up two of the attacking werewolves and bashed them together like dolls before flinging them aside. The third would-be ambusher tried to run, but one of the other werewolves threw a hatchet that twirled end over end before striking the fleeing traitor in the back of the head. He fell and the others pounced on him.
“Sorry about the mess,” the werewolf who had asked Calvin’s permission to conduct business in his territory apologized. The others were loading the three unconscious men into the trunk of a sedan. “We’ll take care of it, though. Don’t you worry, sir.”
Sir. Calvin seemed to be garnering a certain amount of respect in the werewolf community. That was something that was likely to come in handy, what with all the people jumping out at him with guns and knives lately. Calvin gathered up his tattered, bloody clothes and went back inside.
“Werewolfing again?” Calvin’s mother groused. “Have you no manners at all? Were you raised in a barn?”
“Yes, mom. But thanks to you and dad, it was the finest barn in the whole county,” Calvin replied dryly.
“That is not funny, mister! Don’t you go telling the neighbors you were raised in a barn!”
“Mom, calm down. We don’t have any neighbors. Otherwise they would probably be grabbing their torches and pitchforks after the scrawny neighbor boy turned into a werewolf right in front of their eyes,” Calvin explained.
His mother continued as though he hadn’t said a thing. “Just because our old house was a manufactured home and technically still had the wheels attached does not mean we are some kind of white trash rednecks! We are sophisticated, God-dammit!”
Calvin took a deep breath and did his best to sound calm and rational. “Mom. I’m a werewolf now. Just yesterday our town was under attack from zombies. Today I think I ended up in the middle of a werewolf civil war and tomorrow the werewolves might go all 1939 Germany on everyone and try an all out bid for world domination now that they think they’ve discovered the master race. Can you please calm down so I can put on my third set of pants for the day and go meet the cute redheaded fairy girl who is supposed to be spying on me?”
“Ooh! Calvin, you have a date?” his mother gushed. “Tell me all about her! How did you meet? What color are her eyes? Does she play basketball? What about musical instruments? Can she sing? I always wanted a daughter-in-law with a beautiful singing voice.
Calvin stared at her for a moment. “I’m going upstairs to change,” he said at last.
Why everyone got so damn excited about Calvin meeting up with Rhoslyn, he had no idea. It wasn’t as though he had never been on a date before...but if something did not go utterly, horribly, irreversibly wrong it would certainly be a first. Calvin passed out on the bed so he could transform painlessly and woke up five minutes later. He dressed and started his homework while he waited for Rhoslyn to call.
Finally, Calvin’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Rhoslyn’s number, but it was definitely not from Rhoslyn. “We have the fairy. Meet us at the Wal*Mart in fifteen minutes.”
“Jesus Christ,” Calvin swore. This day was getting ridiculous. And whoever these people were seemed to be at least a little intelligent. They had kidnapped Rhoslyn and then demanded to meet in a public place. No quick werewolf transformations to brawl his way out of this one. Calvin called Festus and his brothers Darryl anyway, just so that he would have backup if things went to hell. Festus agreed to meet him there “quicker than a fart out of Grandma Ethel on Easter morning.” Whatever that meant.
Calvin took his clothes back off, transformed, tied his clothes to his arm so he could run freely and then change back once he got to Wal*Mart, and then headed out to face his newest tribulation.
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