Read Online Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman by Scott Burtness - Free Book Online

mouth moved, but she must’ve been speaking
very softly, because Dallas didn’t hear a sound. Actually, the more he thought
about it, the more apparent it became that he couldn’t hear anything except the
rush of a distant ocean, waves rolling and receding. Each wave seemed to pull
at his awareness, dragging his mind far away and leaving gobs of soggy cotton
in its place. The button on his shirt cuff caught his attention. It was a
button. A round button. But why did that matter? With a tremendous amount of
effort, he refocused on Lois and offer a tentative wave goodbye, but she just
turned and walked away.
    Sound
returned like a needle dropped on a record. With a huff, Dallas stomped out of
Ronnie’s Grill and climbed into Deloris. As he twisted the key in the ignition,
he pushed thoughts of Lois and Herb forcibly down. No one ever said being a
hero was easy, and Dallas had some C.I.A. douchnozzles to deal with.
    The
sun was spilling orange across the morning clouds when he pulled into Cecil’s
lot. More of a lunch and dinner spot, Cecil’s was still a few hours from
opening, and all was dark and quiet. Even so, Dallas decided not to take any
chances. Pulling back onto the highway, he drove a quarter mile or so until
only unbroken woods lined either side of the paved, two-lane road. A gap in the
trees that looked big enough to accommodate Deloris appeared, so he drove off
the road and killed the engine. Walking back to the shoulder, he looked at his
impromptu hiding spot for the giant pickup. Only someone paying attention would
notice the truck. Fortunately, most folks in these parts didn’t pay much
attention, especially when driving.
    The
morning air was crisp on his face as he jogged back toward Cecil’s to get his
bearings. Putting the small restaurant to his back, he started walking into the
trees in what he hoped was the same direction he’d traveled the previous day.
Buoyed by his conviction that he’d figure out where he was going soon enough,
he strode confidently through the woods. It wasn’t long though, before he
realized that he didn’t have a clue where he was. Dallas slowed his gait and
looked more closely at the surrounding pines and maples, hoping for a reminder
of the path he’d followed just a day before. Finally coming to a stop, he
ground his teeth in frustration.
    “Dammit!
C’mon Dal. You found ‘em once, you can find ‘em again. No big deal, right?”
    A
deep breath helped to bring his blood pressure down a point or two. Next, he
exhaled, pushing all the air from his lungs. Closing his mouth, he drew a
second deep breath through his nose. A hundred thousand smells that he’d been
smelling the entire time suddenly registered in his conscious mind, a rush so
intense he dropped to his knees. Letting the air whoosh out through his mouth,
he drew another breath, more slowly this time. It was all there. Each tree,
leaf, and blade of grass. Deer droppings, squirrel poop, and coyote scat. Bugs
and birds and everything in between. And him.
    Huh? he thought, coming back to the
moment. He’d just showered the previous night, and the cool morning meant he
wasn’t in any danger of breaking a sweat. Even so, he could definitely smell
something, and that something was definitely him.
    Dallas
lifted each arm and took a mighty whiff of each pit. Sweat, Old Spice, laundry
detergent, no fabric softener. He’d be captain of the Vikings cheerleading
squad before he used fabric softener. The shirt was mostly clean, no spilled
beer or other such things on this one yet. Swiveling his head, he snuffed and
whuffed, pulling the morning air in and out of his nose. He still smelled him , but it wasn’t coming from him.
Wholly confused, he started to pace a zigzag back and forth between bushes and
trees. The zigs and zags became a lopsided loop, then a series of crisscrosses
over the circle he’d just wandered. The more he concentrated, the more he could
smell himself, always so close, always just out of