Sherry stopped at the edge of darkness and flicked on her flashlight. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "Careful. The boys toss a lot of broken pallets on this side of the tracks," she warned us.
"Why aren't there any lights over there?" I asked her.
"The power company won't install any electricity on the other side of the tracks," she explained.
I clicked on my flashlight and glanced at Roland. He had his soul box in one hand, but not his flashlight in the other. Sherry turned to us and the light of the flashlights showed the dark lines of her frown.
"You gonna turn on your flashlight or do you expect to catch them by feel?" Sherry asked him.
"You forget what I am," he reminded her.
She stepped back and pointed her light towards the tracks. "Thanks for reminding me. You go first," she ordered him.
Roland bowed his head and took the lead. We stepped across the railroad tracks and stumbled into the uneven, weed-infested ground. I tripped on various pieces of metal, wood, and something that looked like a voodoo doll. Roland walked straight ahead and at a quick pace.
"Mind slowing it up so the humans don't impale themselves on a weed?" I asked him.
"We're almost there," he comforted me.
A few more feet and my flashlight showed me what he meant. Our beams found the fence and the point of penetration for our phantom foe. There was a hole dug a foot into the ground beneath the fence, but the bottom of the wires were curled back to give another half a foot for the intruder to get inside.
I squinted my eyes and pointed at something white stuck to the bottom of the twisted fence. "What's that?"
Roland stepped forward and grabbed the white thing. He turned it over in his hand and frowned. "It appears to be wool."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not pulling my leg of lamb, are you?"
"No. This is a small patch of wool," he insisted.
"I hate to interrupt your talking of sweaters, but where the heck's whatever got in here?" Sherry reminded us.
Roland stooped and brushed his hand over the ground. I saw the tell-tale signs of the squash-murdering hoofed hitman. He nodded at the ground behind us. "The tracks lead towards-" I jumped when another, louder alarm went off.
"The warehouse!" Sherry yelped.
Sherry scurried across the railroad tracks and we followed. We reached the back of the warehouse and the light on the rear of the building caught on glistening metal. There was a two-by-one foot hunk of metal panel pushed into the warehouse. The sides were curved and ended in a tight neck inside the building.
"What the hell?" she hissed.
"The creature entered through the hole," Roland guessed.
Sherry scowled and beat her flashlight into her other palm. "Then let's go say hello." She turned towards the corner and the door.
"Wait. Let's see if we can get a look at them through the hole," I suggested.
"But the hole is small," Roland pointed out.
I grinned and handed him my flashlight. "Just gimme a second to suck up some gut and I'll fit."
I got down on my hands and knees, and crawled into the hole. The thin ending point was tight on the shoulders blades, but I squeezed them through and looked around. The lit interior lights gave me plenty to see, and what I saw was carnage of the gourd variety. The bins closest to the hole were tipped over and spilled onto the floor. Broken and whole squash lay scattered on the floor. Some of the bins teetered on the edge of falling and joining their gourdy contents in gourd heaven.
A long pair of muscled legs dangled out of one of the tipsy fruit bins. The legs ended in hoofs, and most of the leg was made of pink flesh until a half foot below the hindquarters. Then it gave way to a soft coat of black wool. A stumpy tail sat at the end of its butt and wagged to and fro. The rest of the creature spilled over the other side of the bin.
Then I got an idea. Not a good idea, but an idea.
"Hey! Leggy!" I yelled.
The creature lifted its upper body out of the bin and looked at me. Its face was a long, thin snout with a pointed black nose. The eyes were set back in its head and were a bright yellow color. The upper body was covered in the dark wool, and the front legs also had the same quad-hoof as the back. It was some sort of sheep who's father must have been one ugly piece of mutton.
The creature tilted its head to one side and blinked at me. Its yellow eyes softened. The thing slid backward and clattered onto the floor. The woolly creature stood at about three feet tall from hoof to the tip of its pointed ears. It took a step towards me.
I smiled and waved at it. "Um, hi. You're kind of cute." For a misshapen crime against nature.
The creature pinned back its ears and curled its lips back in a hideous snarl that showed off a row of sharp, pointy fangs.
"Not cute! Note cute!" I yelled. "Pull back! Mayday!"
The creature rushed me. I tried to reverse course, but my arms didn't want to tuck back through the small hole. Someone grabbed my legs and pulled me through the hole. That is, until my shoulder blades got caught on the thin opening. The person kept pulling, but my shoulders weren't budging. Something was going to give, and I had a bad feeling it was going to be my shoulder sockets.
"Not working!" I shouted.
The hands leg go of me and something slammed into the wall to my right. The creature's jaw snapped shut and its eyes widened. It tried to stop, but its hoofs skidded on the concrete and it crashed into the wall on my left. I was stuck between a pounding and a hard hoof as the creature tried to stand and the wall on my right bent inward from multiple blows. The creature clattered onto its feet and raced for the front door just as the wall was punctured by a hand. The hand and another grabbed the bent sides and opened the wall like a can opener.
Roland jumped through the hole and landed beside me. He bent down towards me, but I pointed at the retreating rear of our fluffy foe.
"It's getting away!" I told him. Roland hesitated, but I pushed his hands away. "I'm fine, but my aunt's pumpkin won't be if we don't catch that thing!"
The creature slammed its head into the door. The entrance bent outward and the hinges were knocked halfway off the frame. Roland rushed to the door just as the creature did another slam and broke down the entrance. It rushed through and out into the night. I saw a flash of Sherry rush after it with Roland close behind.
I wiggled myself out of the hole and looked myself over. I'd lost a bit of skin, clothing and some pride, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a long, hot shower, a shopping trip, and a small tub of ice cream. I stood, brushed myself off, and walked over to the bins. One of the center metal shelves was littered with munched squash.
"Ouch!" I yelped. I rubbed my head and looked up.
The bins on the metal shelves leaned towards me and took the whole works with it. I turned and slipped on one of the slimy murdered fruits. My rear hit the ground hard and I had a front-row seat to my death as the metal shelves leaned over and dumped the bins onto the floor where I sat. I raised my arms and prepared to take my accordion.
A moment before fruity impact a dark shadow flew in front of me. Roland wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him with his back faced towards the falling bins. The gourds spilled over us in a waterfall of seeds and sticky innards. One of the bins overturned on us and shut out the lights.
CHAPTER 5
The avalanche of fruit was over in a few seconds. I opened my eyes and found myself face-to-face with stoplight-red eyes. They said stop, but my mind said go, and I tried to reverse course in the tiny space that was our fruit quonset hut. My back hit a wall of fruit and heavy, thick cardboard.
"Are you all right?" Roland asked me. The eyes belonged to him, but I hardly recognized the voice any better. It was hoarse and strained.
"Yeah, but you don't sound so great," I returned.
Roland lay over me with our faces nose-to-nose. He placed his hands on the ground on either side of me and performed a push-up that lifted a couple tons of fruit off of us.
The fruit and bin rolled off us, and warehouse light permeated our dark little fruit house. Roland grunted and tossed aside the bin, and I sat up. We were both covered in orange goo courtesy of the smashed squash.
I pulled off a particularly amorous string of goo from my face and turned to Roland. "You know, I'm really starting to hate squash," I told him.
"I must concur," he replied. He tried to stand, but his left leg buckled and he dropped back onto his knees.
I grabbed his upper arms and looked him over. "The stench get to you?" I teased.
My joke fell flatter than a suggestion of barbecue to a group of vegans when I noticed the gash across his left side. One of the upright metal bars from the shelving had come down and dragged down his flesh. A thick trail of blood ran down his side and into his pants.
"You trying to get yourself a permanent place in a coffin?" I scolded him.
He lifted his head and smiled through a grimace. "Don't bury me too soon."
Sherry appeared at the door with the guard in tow. "Misty? Roland?" she called to us.
I tossed one of Roland's arms over my shoulders and waved to her. "We're over here!"
Sherry and the guard waded through the produce catastrophe and reached us as I was getting Roland onto his feet. Sherry grabbed his other side and looked him over. Her pursed lips told me Roland had more than his usual one foot in the grave.
"Let's get him to my office," she suggested. She glanced over her shoulder at the guard. "Get back to the gate and wait for me to get there."
"But shouldn't we call the police?" he pointed out. Sherry narrowed her eyes, and the man snapped at attention. "Yes, ma'am!" He hurried off back to the guardhouse.
"You've got to teach me that trick," I told her.
"It helps that I sign the paychecks," she revealed. "But let's get your friend here to my office before he bleeds all over the fruit."
We hefted Roland outside and across the concrete to the office at the right of the guardhouse. I looked around for any signs of our furry foe, but it was gone.
"What happened to the creature?" I asked Sherry.
"It jumped on top of the guardhouse and over the fence," she explained.
We reached her office and plopped Roland in a spare plastic chair. Sherry bent down and tore open what remained of his gashed pants and shirt. I looked over her shoulder and winced. The pale flesh on his side had a nice gash down the hip. I was reminded of Ralph's stuffed hamburger-steaks. The steak was slit open and hamburger was stuffed into the opening. It was a highly sought delicacy if the trucker hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours and wanted to end his days seated over the worst-looking pile of cow flesh he'd ever seen, fork in hand and prayer in mind.
Sherry shook her head and looked up at me. "I can't do anything for this. We need to get him to a hospital."
"I'll be fine," Roland insisted.
I snorted. "That's not fine. You look like you ran your side into a meat grinder."
"That damage is great because I have yet to feed this night," he explained.
Sherry and I glanced at each other. We both fought off the urge to wrap our hands around our necks. The color of his dark red blood down his side caught my eyes, and he was paler than the white pumpkin from the night before. I sighed and wiped some leftover squash off my neck.
"All right, I'll bite, or you can," I told him.
"We could each give half of what he needs," Sherry offered.
I shook my head. "You're on duty, and if anyone's going to talk to the police it should be you. You go to the guardhouse and I'll deal with things here."
"You sure?" she persisted.
"No, but I'm going to do it anyway," I replied.
Sherry stood and shot an unfriendly glance at Roland. "Don't take too much or I might think about going into the vampire hunting business."
Roland bowed his head. "I will be careful."
"I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you two," she promised. She left, and I turned to Roland.
"So now what? You need a straw?" I suggested.
Roland looked me in the eyes with a steady gaze. "You're sure you want to do this?"
I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him. "You want a free tap or not?"
"Very well. There will be some pain," he told me.
Roland lunged at me and grabbed my upper arms. He sank his sharp teeth deep into my neck. I gasped as a searing pain shot through me followed by a paralyzing numbness. It was as if I stepped into a walk-in freezer and had the door shut on me for a couple of hours, but without all the risk of catching a cold-to-beat-all-colds. Roland replaced his fangs with his lips, and I felt the blood flow out of the wounds and into his mouth. I grew dizzy and the world started to blur like an old VHS tape that needed some serious tracking.
"Roland," I croaked. "Remember to share."
Roland reluctantly pulled away and swept me into his arms. He set me in his former chair and stepped back. I watched through blurred vision as the wound in his side closed up and changed to perfect pale flesh.
"Neosporin, eat your heart out," I quipped.
Roland knelt in front of me and pressed his fingers against the wounds on my neck. I winced. "Does that hurt?"
"It doesn't tickle," I retorted.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" I held up my hand between us, or tried to. It flopped between us like a dying fish and the ends of my fingertips caught on Roland's lips. They stuck there.
"I'll live. I think," I assured him.
He pulled off my stuck hand and smiled. "You will."
"Good, and you get to drive us home," I told him.
He bowed his head. "With pleasure."
I snorted. "You forget how many potholes are on these roads. Driving home's like initiating a practice run in a war zone."
I tried to stand, but my legs informed me that they wanted to make the acquaintance of the ground, so I tumbled towards the floor. Roland caught me and lifted me into his arms.
"You'll be weak for a few hours," he informed me.
"I expect some pampering for my blood sacrifice, you know," I insisted. "Some foot and back rubbing, but skip the neck massage. I think you've done enough of that tonight."
Roland chuckled. "Of course."
We stepped outside and halfway to the gate we ran into Sherry. She looked me over and frowned.
"You look like someone dunked your flesh in an ice-cold lake," she pointed out.
"She merely needs food and rest," Roland assured her.
"She won't become a vampire, will she?" Sherry questioned him.
"It's takes more than one hickey to turn someone," I told her.
"Good, now you two better get out of here before the cops come. I can wipe the surveillance footage, but you here will be hard to explain," she recommended.
Roland got us into the car and we drove back to my apartment. My condition was upgraded from soggy cereal to wet noodle, and with Roland's help I got into the apartment and onto the couch. I lay my back down on the cushions and sighed.
"That's the way to die. Metaphorically speaking, of course," I commented.
Roland took his spot in his chair with his trusty soul box at his side. "Did you happen to get a clear view of the creature?"
"I didn't get his license plate, but it was definitely a monster of some sort," I told him.
"Did it resemble a sheep with fangs and split hooves?" he asked me.
I lifted my head and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe. Why?"
Roland pulled out two pieces of wool from his pocket. They were both white. "One of these is from the fence, and the other I witnessed fall from the creature before I heard the metal shelves tip under the strain."
I sat up and shook my head. "What I saw was definitely a black thing."
"The wool was black when it fell off the creature, as well, but reverted to white before it reached the ground," he revealed.
I took the pieces of wool and felt them. "So we're looking for a wolf in sheep's clothi
ng?"
"No. We are looking for a sheep in wolf's clothing," he corrected me.
"Come again?"
"We are looking for a were-sheep," he rephrased.
CHAPTER 6
I blinked at him. "You're joking, right?"
He shook his head. "If only I was, but the difference in wool on and off the sheep shows it's a shape-shifter. To my extensive knowledge there's only one creature a sheep can change into, and that is a were."
I tucked the wool in one hand and held up the other. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You think we're dealing with a sheep with sharp fangs and that howls at the moon?"
"It bleats, not howls. Their vocal chords don't change enough to allow a howl," he corrected me.
"Maybe it's just a sheep high on grass," I suggested.
"And changes into a gluttonous creature with sharp teeth?" he pointed out.
I sighed. "Okay, let's assume there's a puff of wool running around that transforms by the light of the full moon. How dangerous can a were-sheep be?" I asked him. "I mean, it's only attacked a bunch of squash, and I gotta tell you, I'm not really a fan of those things, either."
"We've been fortunate that a human hasn't interrupted its meal who wasn't armed," he explained. "Otherwise it could have killed them, or worse."
"What's worse than pushing up daisies?" I wondered.
"If a were-sheep bites a human, and that human survives, then they, too, change into a were," he revealed.
I frowned. "A were-sheep or a werewolf?"
"A werewolf," he replied.
"But if it's a sheep that bit you, wouldn't a human turn into a sheep-were? Or maybe a were-sheep? And how bad can that be? I mean, wouldn't a human crave grains or something?" I pointed out.
"The curse is canine and remains canine even if passed on indirectly from different species," he told me.
"All right, so we have to stop the fanged flock from sinking their chompers into a human. Where can we find it?" I asked him.
"We'll need a map of the local area, and a red pen," he replied.
"You really need to branch out on colors, and on this century," I told him as I stood and stumbled over to my computer. I slipped into the chair and clicked on my browser. "Maybe get into pink. You might love pink," I told him as he came up behind my chair.
"I would rather be staked," he quipped.
"Fair enough," I returned.