Lychan Part 1

Fire was kindled in the cool night. Water heard in the weary distance. A breeze blew swiftly in the darkness while four friends laughed and…

Photo by Avery Cocozziello on Unsplash

Fire was kindled in the cool night. Water heard in the weary distance. A breeze blew swiftly in the darkness while four friends laughed and drank.

“And ‘Bam!’” Harold shouted, “It lit up their faces, bro.” His friends commented and Lukas Ryan’s face twisted. “Killed ’em. Never knew it was possible, man. Dying, killin’ like that. It was too easy,” Harold said. He sipped his drink tipping his wide-brimmed cap.

“That’s fucked up,” Haul said stroking his gray beard.

“Yeah, well, you gotta do what ya gotta do, man. Survival. That’s it.” They sat in silence waiting for someone to speak. The cool breeze blew in their faces.

“Well,” Lukas said, “I guess now’s the time.”

“What’s up?” Steve Meyer asked.

“I quit my job.”

“Oh, man! Whatdya gonna do,” Harold asked.

“What’d you guys think? Starting my own business,” Lukas Ryan said. He had a collared shirt with stripes and wore khakis. Being the younger of the group, he was treated with little respect.

“You? Shit, I better start calling around if I were you,” Harold said as he downed his second beer. “Nobody’s gonna buy anything you’re sellin’.”

“Maybe, but at least I gotta plan,” he said. They had been drinking for a few hours relaxing in the summer night.

“Hey, I wouldn’t say anything,” Harold said. “It’s just that your job was good, wasn’t it? Paid the bills, you could go out, have fun every week. You got a family too. I don’t know how you’re doin’ that. Why would you give that up?”

“And be miserable like you,” Lukas said as the guys became quiet. Harold Derrickson leaned back in his camping chair.

A faint smile came across his bushy-bearded face. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t you, Ryan?”

“The one and only.”

“I got everything I need, right here. What more could I want?”

“Family-”

“Oh, save it for church, preacher! I gotta live. Live the life I want — and if you can’t handle that then fuck you.”

“Real nice,” he said amusingly. “Sounds like you’re really livin’ it up.”

Harold got up fast as Ryan swarmed right to him. “You know, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Ryan, but you got a problem. What is it,” he asked pointing in his face.

“You’re my problem.” Screaming in each other’s faces, they rapidly spoke over each other.

“Alright, you two,” Dennis Haul shouted. “Quit it!” Ripping them apart, Steve Myer helped awkwardly. Haul handling his best friend, and Steve holding Lukas back.

“Fuck you, man. Why don’t ya leave?” Harold said blood on his lip.

“My pleasure, you got some balls tryin’ to hit me, fag. I don’t know why you guys hang out here in the middle of the woods. Nothin’ out here, just fucking trees and your stupid dreams and plans! Grow up,” Lukas said. Storming out, he talked nonsense insulting him and leaving briskly.

“You know what,” Harold shouted as Haul held him back. “I’m going to kill you one day, you bastard! You hear me?”

“Hey, cool it, alright,” Haul said. Harold broke away from his friend.

“What’s wrong with him?” Harold asked, angry sitting back down by the fire.

“He’s scared, man,” Haul said. “The town’s going crazy with everything happening.”

“Well, we know better, don’t we?” He went for another beer by the cooler.

“Nobody believes,” Haul said. “It’s messed up.” He added some logs stoking the fire.

“Harold,” Steve said, “Why be out here all this time? He’s got a point.”

“I told ya why. And you can leave if you don’t want any part in this. Hank deserves more. This is the least we can do.”

“Hank’s dead,” Myer said.

“I know he is, Steve, he was my brother!”

“Hey, we gotta calm down, OK,” Haul said. “We can’t lose our cool. We gotta stick together. Lukas is right to leave, but if you’re gonna stay, then stay and help us. If not you can always leave. Speakin’ of — where’s Bobby?”

“He said he was coming,” Harold said.

It wasn’t long before Bobby Derrickson arrived with his friend that his uncle scoffed at him, “Ah, ya late. We’ve been waitin’ for the beer.”

The circle huddled the fire and burst with laughter. Rowdy with excitement.

“I didn’t realize there was a time limit on Friday night.”

“You got the beer,” Harold asked.

“Yeah, they were out of what you wanted. I got this.” Bobby threw a can at his uncle’s face. Catching it with ease, Harold smiled.

“What is this? Bag of Shit? What kind of beer is that?”

“They make anything now,” Haul said. “No creativity anymore. No heart. Just write whatever the hell you want on the can and call it beer.”

“So many different kinds now,” Myer said opening a crisp one. “You don’t know what to pick.”

“Hey, it’s all they had,” Bobby said he said with a wink.

“Bullshit,” Harold said as he popped one open.

“I like it. Anyway. Guys, this is my buddy Tom Conway. Just met him today.” Thomas Conway was a built fellow. His military cut was newly done making his toned face seem genuine, but harsh simultaneously. Wearing a wife beater, he let out his hand toward Harold.

“Nice to meet ya’ll,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll bet you two met at the bar,” Haul said.

“You’re not wrong,” Bobby said opening a beer. “Come on, Tom, have a seat.”

The fire crinkled and crackled. Smoke went up as incense in a church. The hot embers rose in a religious fashion.

“So,” Harold began. “Where ya from, Tom?”

“Kalamazoo. About an hour.”

“Ah, no kiddin’, Bobby’s mom is from there. Isn’t she?”

Bobby sipped his drink and then realized, “Oh, shit. You’re right.”

“Yeah, she loved growin’ up there. Talked about it all the time.”

“Never could have her stop,” Haul said they all laughed.

“Which part?” Harold asked.

“Oh, just downtown off the main drag,” Tom said.

Harold nodded. “What was it like? Growing up there?”

“It was pretty normal, you know,” he said sipping his beer.

“My sister-in-law said it was a fun-loving family community. And she never mentioned any name like Conway. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s a big town.”

“I knew a Conway, East Lansing. Never knew why he always kept to himself, but he was a drunk, wasn’t he?”

Everyone stopped. Thomas drank looking down pretended not to hear him. Bobby was insulted. Outraged by his uncle’s accusation.

“Wasn’t he?” Derrickson said sternly.

“Uncle Harold-” Bobby said.

“Never heard of him. Different family.”

“He had two boys. Beat them senseless,” Harold went on. “Then one night he was found. Knife in his chest. Mother dead, strangled. Two boys just disappeared. Out of sight. This was a few years ago now. Where’s your brother?”

Conway laughed, “I can see why Bobby likes you, Harold.” He threw back his head laughing.

“I never said my name,” Harold said. Their eyes met and they both knew the other.

Tom’s eyes grew wide and big turning into a snarling gross green and his nose became a snout, his ears popped up like a wolf’s, hair springing up like lightning and his face became angry with a fury few knew. All jumped up and went for their concealed guns, but Harold went first. The wolfman lunged at him quickly. He fired two rounds into his chest. Silver bullets. Writhing, distorted in agony, Tom moved no more. Heartbeat gone. An absolute stillness.

“What the-” Bobby said with a bloody face from the spurt out from his friend.

Harold grabbed him, “Next time, you bring somebody let me look at ’em first. You get me?” he said hate rising up in him, his eyes like spears. Conway’s face was human again. No wolf-face. Dead like the sea.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby said rustling out of his grip. “I had no idea.”

“I know, but you gotta be careful, kid. They’re all over the place. He knew us.”

“How did you know,” Steve asked.

“I could smell ’em. Like an animal. Blood and cum. Damn bastard.” He wiped the blood of his lapel. “This is gettin’ crazy.”

“We gotta call the sheriff,” Steve said concerned.

“Nobody’s doing nothin’. He’s got his hands full. They probably know where we are. He wanted to infiltrate us. So, they don’t know yet what happened. They’re waiting for him.”

“What’re we gonna do?” Bobby asked.

“Give ’em hell. Just like they did to Hank.”