Sheriff Hatton stepped out of Sam Wesley’s bar and belched. This night he was higher than kites and he damn well knew it. The only solution was to hit the hay. He adjusted his sheriff hat, and turned to his deputy, Dean Andrews.
“Son, did you later find out if that pecker wood Johnson paid back his loan to old Mr Rockwell?”he drawled.
Drew Andrews shook his head. He was a negro in his late twenties. Medium built, with small beady eyes, charcoal glossy hair, a well shaped nose and small lips. When he spoke, he had a Creole accent.
“Oh I totally forgot about it, sir,” he said. “But don’t worry sir, first thing tomorrow I will find out.” he quickly added knowing how short tempered Hatton was.
Hatton snorted.
“You are acting too slow these days, son,” he said tightly. “You’ve got to remember these things. If we don’t act right, we’d have a load of vices on our hands. I don’t want any stress at this age. All I wanna do is eat, drink some good whisky and have fun at Milly’s Tender.”
Drew started to laugh at the mention of Milly’s Tender, but a scowl from Hatton shut him up. Milly’s Tender was the name of the only whorehouse in Fur Rivers. It was owned by a woman named Milly. Her husband had blown his brains out after he had caught her having hot sex with a young drifter. He left her high and dry. Having nothing to do, she opened the whore house The whore house catered to old, tired and sexually starved men like Hatton.
“I feel so tight tonight,” Hatton continued. “You know what son? I’m gonna drive you to your house and head straight to mine.” and not waiting for Drew, he walked wobbly to his dusty sedan prowler which was parked across the bar. Right behind him was Drew, a cool expression on his black face.
Hatton got there, opened the car door and jerked his head up when he heard a loud laugh from one of the rooms in the three story building facing him. It was a gambling Parlor. Hatton, despite his own personal misdemeanors, loathed gambling. He turned to Drew.
“Say son, didn’t we tell those boys to get the hell out of that building?” He slurred and belched again.
Drew wrinkled his nose.
“We told them sir. I gave them the eviction letter myself.” he said solemnly.
“Then what the hell are they still doing there?” He drawled, his leery eyes staring dizzily at the tall building. “The folks of this town don’t have any respect for the law. This has got to stop. I don’t care how we do it. But this………..” he didn’t get to finish.
A screaming howl of triumph rises in the night.
Hatton and Drew froze on the spot. They looked like a block of ice. The hairs on the back of their neck bristling.
Then they heard the howl again. It is a wolf cry alright but there was something so human in the howl and it made them hold their breath. Suddenly, out of nowhere, in the darkness of the night, three monstrous werewolves stumbled into the streets.
Hatton and Drew stood transfixed, not believing their eyes.
In a horrifying shock, they watched as the werewolves ran on both paws and feet, howling and snarling, heading towards the gambling parlor edifice. The liquor died on Hatton leaving him shaking and terrified. He watched in horrifying amazement as the werewolves got to the gambling parlor building, leaped on the walls with a powerful, easy momentum and began to crawl up, their movements swift and deadly. They got to the top of the building. There was a loud, nerve- wrecking explosion as they crashed into the room through the windows.
Hatton had never seen anything like this in his life. Of course, he knew about the attacks in Sam’s bar and seen the aftermath of that of Bill Castle, but nothing could have ever prepared him for a thing like this. He felt something wet and hot dribbling inside of him to the grounds where he stood. Slowly, with his heart pounding wildly, he looked down to see a wet perch on the front of his pants. He had pissed his pants. What a day! Oh what fucking day! Then he heard his deputy screaming. Stupefied, he turned to him.
“What? What? What is it?”he croaked. The look of horror on his deputy’s face added to his own trepidation.
But the deputy, his black face streaked with sweat, continued to scream, jerking his thumb to the building where the werewolves had entered. Hatton ignored him. There was only one solution to this insanity. With a sweat soaked hand, he felt in his pocket for his phone. Trembling, he begins to dial Caesar’s number.
***********************
The three heavy gamblers in Fur Rivers; Jake, Curtis, and Miller all sat around a table. It was littered with poker chips, playing cards, cigarette stubs, ashtrays and bottles and glasses of whisky.
“Tonight is my winning streak!” Jake yammered. “I’m gonna be rich tonight, baby. ” and he jeered at his pals Curtis did not say anything. He had lost a lot of money that night. And he was feeling really bad about it.
“Stop shooting your gun, Jake!” Miller cautioned. “Play the game and let us breathe.”
“I’m playing it alright, baby. I’m playing the damn thing” Jake said grinning. “Fact is…………….” and then the big windows of the gambling parlor blew inward in a twinkle of glass, letting in the howling black wind from outside, and the three werewolves.
The four men look stupendous for a second……..only for a second. Then they began to scream and their voices sounded the wail of new born babies.The eyes of the three werewolves settled on the screaming men. They let out a rolling howl of triumph which shook the room and leaped on their prey.
One of the wolves caught Jake who had scrambled up towards the door. It grabbed his head and sank his claws into his face. Jake began to yell and his voice sounded like an injured kiwi. The beast pulled out his claws and sank its teeth into Jake’s throat and ripped it out. Blood splashed on the pelt of the beast. Then it sank his claws into the lifeless body, ripped it open, let it drop to the floor and it began to feed on it joyfully.
Another of the werewolves grabbed Curtis. He began to yell wildly. The wolf sank its claws into Curtis belly and ripped it open, spilling hot spleens and guts to the floor. The beast tossed Curtis' wasted body away and began to feed on his intestine which littered the floor.
Helldog, who had led the werewolves into the gambling parlor, rested his eyes on one of the men who had scurried under the poker table. It was Miller. He let out a terrifying howl, lifted the table and flung it away violently. It crashed into the opposite wall, shattering to pieces.
Miller yelled as the beast folded his paw in his shirt front. It began to lift him off the floor. Stupidly, Miller picked a bottle of bourbon which had rolled to him. As Helldog lifted him off completely from the ground, his legs dangling in the air, Miller spat into the beast's face.