The Graveyard and the Cornfield

The ride home from the concert was full of the usual gripes and curses from Frank, after making the long trip to Indianapolis to pick up the four concertgoers.

"I don't know why you have to give all of these assholes your money anyway," the Old Man barked. "You already have the CD full of all of their music, what's the difference if you see them live."

No one ever answered these questions. It was better to stay quiet and let him rant, and rant he did, all the way back to Triloville.

Once Marvin, Jack, and Autumn were dropped off at their respective homes, Benny found himself alone in the car with his father as they returned to Frank's house, where Benny was staying until he returned to school.

Benny stared at the Old Man's face for a long moment, highlighted only by the ghostly glow of the dashboard lights, and tried hard to decide if he could confide in him without being perceived as being crazy.

"Something on your mind?" Frank said.

Benny swallowed hard and then spoke, "I saw something tonight. Something strange that I'm not sure was entirely real."

"What did you see?"

Benny recounted his trip to the dark bathroom. When he had finished, Frank looked at him sternly and said; "Did you drop acid tonight?"

Benny shook his head, "Of course not. I've never done that shit."

"In that case, you probably did see this creature."

This was the last thing Benny expected to hear from his father.

Frank saw the confused look on his son's face and decided to elaborate. "During my time in the military and even in this business, I have seen some strange shit. Things that I wouldn't feel comfortable telling anyone for fear of my sanity being questioned, so believe me, I know where you're coming from."

"What do you think it was I saw?"

"I don't know, Benny, but some things are better forgotten. If you dwell on this and start talking about it to other people, it could get back to someone or something that doesn't want this secret out. Then you might find yourself a lifeless lump on a bathroom floor."

Benny nodded and took his father's advice to heart, pushing the entire event to the back of his mind. He would not think of it again for almost five years.

The old black hearse had just crossed the border from Indiana into Illinois.

"We should be able to make it before sunset," Frank shouted over the roaring engine, "Omaha is about eight hours away and it's just past 11 now."

Autumn had just finished informing the others that she could feel Odin's presence somewhere around Omaha, Nebraska, presumably holed up someplace dark until the sun went down.

"We only have about seven hours before the sun sets," Jack reminded the others, "it is October after all."

"I realize that, Jack, but I also realize, come sundown, we'll be the target of a whole lot of vampires. So, we'll leave it up to Benny," Frank looked to the back of the hearse at his other son. "You boys have been on a road trip with your old man before, you know I can get you there in less than seven hours."

Benny looked at his father and knew he was right. Plus, traffic should be thin on a Sunday morning. "Alright, let's go for it."

Frank applied pressure to the gas pedal and the old death cab shot westward where they would ride Interstate 80 in an almost straight line to Omaha.

Turning his attention to the back of the hearse, Benny began to replenish his belt with wooden stakes. Autumn had moved some of the arsenal away from the window and was now stretched out on her side, using the old army nap sack as a pillow, staring distantly at the scenery as it flew by. Benny sat his gear aside and lay down behind her, slipping his arm around her waist. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her in his arms. She nuzzled against him.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she answered, "I just feel so sorry for the things I'm making you do. The person you're becoming is so different from the person you once were."

"How do you mean?"

"You would never have killed anyone before. You were always such a live and let live type of guy. Back when we were at IUPUI everyone used to call you a hippie."

"Hippie?" Benny was shocked, "Who called me a hippie?"

"Kenny Evens, for one."

"Would this be the same belligerent, gun freak, Kenny Evens who would beat the crap out of people when they made fun of his teeth and committed himself to the Army when he dropped out, only to be discharged because he was even two nutty for them?"

"Yes, that's the one," Autumn replied sheepishly.

"That guy made Ted Nugent look like a hippie."

Autumn began to giggle, in spite of her worries.

"Besides, there is something I've always had that makes me secure enough in my masculinity to not act like a dominate male, chest-beating freak like Kenny Evens…or Ted Nugent."

Autumn turned over and looked into his eyes, fully prepared to hear something extremely romantic. "What's that?"

"A massive cock."

With that, Autumn began laughing harshly; letting out pig-like snorts no matter how hard she tried to contain them.

"Seriously, those guys are hung like half a pack of Rolaids."

This only made her laugh harder. When the laughing had finally subsided, Benny began to stroke her long hair. "Nothing has changed about me, Autumn. I would do absolutely anything to be with you for the rest of eternity, and that's the way I've felt since the moment I first met you."

She smiled at him and he leaned down to kiss her lips, and though she probably imagined it, she could have sworn that kiss made her cold body feel much warmer.

Jack sat in the passenger's seat with his head resting against the window, not really paying attention to the brilliantly colored trees that were racing by outside. Instead, his thoughts were somewhere else. A long-forgotten memory buried deep in his mind, rising to the surface with the startling suddenness of a bloated body in Lake Michigan.

He was seven years old, maybe eight, and he had just watched a TV movie with his father, Salem's Lot if he remembered correctly. He was lying in bed trying to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes the bald vampire's horrible face would appear floating before his mind's eye. It didn't take long for him to start screaming for his mother. And in she came, as she always did, to comfort him. He remembered her sitting there on the edge of his small bed, rubbing his back, and assuring him that there was no such thing as vampires. It was only a movie, they were only actors (and not very good ones at that) wearing heavy makeup and fake teeth.

He remembered feeling so much better with her there. So much safer. How he wished she was with him on this mad trip, to rub his back and tell him everything was going to be alright.

That movie, as well as the multitude of horror movies he had seen since then, were weighing heavily on his mind. Mostly because the vast majority of them have something in common. The supporting cast gets killed off one by one throughout the course of the movie until the main character and maybe a love interest are all that's left. The situation that he and his family (what's left of them anyway) had found themselves in now, was starting to feel more and more like one of those movies. What were the odds that all of them would make it through this, considering what they're up against?

This is Benny's story, and Jack knew it. Ol' Jack Writeman is nothing but a supporting character, just like the Old Man, and even Autumn. He had a sinking feeling he was not going to make it to the end of this story alive. While these thoughts ran through his mind, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Frank Writeman was used to going long periods of time without sleep, but now that the adrenaline from breaking into the vampire house had drained from his body, he felt exhaustion he hadn't experienced since his younger days. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to collapse on a bed and sleep for a good twelve hours.

That was not an option, however, and he was sure that if they didn't kill Odin Sway before sundown, there was a very good possibility they would be dead before dawn. This was Benny's best chance to complete his task and after that, he would let things play out as they may.

Now, as they made their way west to Omaha, he couldn't help but feel bad for Jack. He regretted ever letting his oldest boy get involved in this mess. Frank had lived a long life and didn't fear death, and though Benny was young, it was obvious that without Autumn he was practically dead already. Jack, however, still had things going for him back home. Sure he hadn't had much luck with women lately, and Frank knew how much he hated the job he had inexplicably gotten into, but he had yet to know the magnificence of real love, and now he most likely never would.

Hindsight is always twenty/twenty. Right?

"Right," he said aloud.

Jack's head popped up from its resting place on the passenger door window. "You say something?"

"No," Frank replied, after a slight hesitation, "go back to sleep, son."

Jack dropped his head back to the window. A few seconds later, Frank put his hand on Jack's and held it. Jack squeezed his father's hand, and sleep came a little easier.

There was still about half an hour of daylight left when the Writeman hearse pulled into the Auburn Fields cemetery, just outside of Omaha city limits.

"See, I told you we'd make it," Frank stated, proudly.

"Yeah," Jack glumly returned, "that's great, Dad."

Looking back through the window at Autumn, Frank asked; "Where exactly do we need to go, pumpkin."

Autumn was momentarily distracted by her father-in-law's use of a nickname he gave her long ago. Though he had called her pumpkin countless times in the past, this was the first time he had done so since she had returned from the dead. It made her feel accepted and at the same time, made her realize how much she really loved the old man as if he were her own father.

"Autumn?" Jack said.

"Sorry," she pointed a finger out the windshield, "up there on that hill, inside the mausoleum."

"Inside a mausoleum," Jack half-shouted, "Why am I not surprised."

"Settle down, Jack," Benny said from the back of the hearse, "let's get up there, we don't have much time."

Frank drove the car up a narrow, paved road and parked next to the decrepit looking structure. The three men exited the car and began equipping their gear. Autumn got out of the car and walked slowly away from the mausoleum. She came to a stop near an eroded headstone and stood staring blankly toward an adjacent cornfield.

Benny and Jack went to the front of the mausoleum and began the arduous task of removing the large stone slab that covered the entrance. After a few moments of struggle, Benny turned to his father, red-faced and out of breath. "Can you…give us…a hand with this."

"Oh, yeah!" the Old Man exclaimed, "Alright, on the count of three. One, two, three, heave."

The three of them pulled on the slab together but still had no luck moving it.

After catching his breath Frank said; "Something isn't right here, it shouldn't be this hard to move."

"Maybe we should just go," Jack put in nervously, "we don't have much time left. The sun will set soon."

Benny thought about it a moment, then looked at his brother. "Jack, do you have a tire iron in that hearse?"

"Yeah, I think so. Give me a second to dig it out."

As Jack went back to the car, Benny noticed his wife hadn't moved or said a word since they had exited the hearse. She only stood there by a grave, staring at a withering cornfield down the hill.

"Autumn?" Benny said from behind her, "Are you alright?"

She turned and stared at him with frightened confusion. "He's there, in the cornfield."

Jack had just returned with the tire iron and all three of them were now giving her an identical dumfounded look.

"But, didn't just you say he was in the mausoleum?" Benny asked.

"He is, but I also feel his presence in the cornfield."

"Are you sure it isn't other vampires you feel?"

"He is the only one I can sense, and he's in the mausoleum, yet at the same time I can feel him in many different places throughout the field."

"Alright," Frank said, as he took the tire iron from Jack and shoved it into Benny's hands, "Jack and I will check out the cornfield, you keep working on getting that door open."

"Guys, this is not a good idea," Jack added. "The sun is almost down, we should beat feet and get the fuck out of here."

"We'll be alright, Jack," Frank assured, "we have the equipment to defend ourselves. Besides, if we run now they'll catch up to us within a matter of hours. It's best if we try to finish this as soon as possible."

Frank pulled weapons from the hearse and began to walk toward the cornfield and, after giving his father a defiant sigh, Jack followed his lead.

Benny looked at his wife and saw her stumble a little, then reach for a headstone for support. "Autumn, why don't you get in the car and try to relax."

Autumn nodded and returned to the car while Benny went to work on the stone slab with the tire iron.

The graveyard and the cornfield were separated by an old, broken-down picket fence. Frank and Jack found a fallen section and stepped over to the other side.

"We should split up," Frank said.

Jack shot his father a surprised look. "Umm, I…you know…I really think that's a bad idea there, Dad. As a matter of fact, I think it's about the worst fucking idea I've ever heard."

"Calm down, Shaggy, we'll only be a few isles of corn stalks apart, so if you and Scooby get in trouble just give me a holler and I'll come a-running."

"That's real funny, Old Man. It's just a shame you have to finally get a sense of humor right when we're about to die."

Frank smiled. "Just remember, move quietly, stealth and surprise are our biggest allies."

"Right," Jack said, but he didn't sound convinced to say the least.

They put about twenty rows of corn between them and then entered quietly.

Approximately fifteen yards into the field, Jack realized he'd never been so completely and utterly terrified in his entire life. He noticed his breathing was forming a steady stream of steam in the cold evening air and made a conscious effort to calm his nerves. He kept walking deeper and deeper into the maze, trying hard to resist the urge to call out to his father. He stopped and looked back to the west. In the distance, he could faintly hear Benny still struggling with the stone slab on the mausoleum and wondered if his brother noticed that the sun was now down.

Further and further into the field he walked, his breathing was now short and jagged and he was sure he could hear himself whimper from time to time.

Then something changed. The air grew still. Jack could hear a low, grumbling sound that seem to come from all sides. He stared around wildly but could see nothing but corn stalks in every direction, and the stalks were too high to see over. Luckily, the night was clear and a full harvest moon shone its light down, illuminating all it touched. Jack thought if it was any darker he would have gone mad with fear by now.

The grumbling sound seemed to be getting louder. No, that's not quite right, he thought, it was getting closer. Slowly, he pulled a 9mm pistol from his belt (taking a split second to ask himself why he had waited so long to do so) and cocked a bullet into the chamber. Looking to his left, he tried desperately to peer through the rows of corn stalks to find his father, and at that moment, the stalks began to sway.

For a second he still didn't see anything, but as his eyes focused he could finally make out the dark, hulking shape of the creature moving toward him.

Jack quickly raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

Frank heard the gunshots break the eerie silence of the night, only moments before a bullet whizzed by his ear.

"Jack," the Old Man shouted, "use your sword or we'll end up shooting each other."

Pulling his own sword, Frank caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned to see an angry werewolf moving toward him. He swung the sword up and the blade moved cleanly through the monster's neck. He watched the head roll and come to rest at the large feet of another werewolf. Looking around, he now realized they had been lured into a trap. The cornfield was full of werewolves and they were closing in fast.

Benny heard the shot fired in the cornfield below, as well as his father's shouts afterward. Dropping the crowbar and grabbing his sword off the ground he sprinted for the old picket fence at the bottom of the hill with every intention of helping his father and brother. He had nearly reached the fence when he heard the low sound of cement sliding against cement. He turned slowly and beheld the ghostly form of Odin Sway emerging from the open doorway of the mausoleum.

A primal rage seemed to awaken inside of him and he ran back up the hill, using his free hand to draw a 45 semi-automatic pistol from his belt as he went. The weight of the gun felt exhilarating as he raised it to aim at the monster's head. He was going to enjoy this kill most of all.

He pulled the trigger and the force of the blast nearly caused him to fall over. The bullet struck the side of the mausoleum, where Odin's head was a split second earlier. It appeared his father wasn't exaggerating about the vampire's speed.

Benny stopped, dropped his sword back to the ground, and steadying his feet, he brought the heavy gun up again, this time holding it with both hands.

"You missed," Odin said. He was now crouched atop a headstone to Benny's right.

Benny took aim and fired, but again the vampire was on the move with unbelievable speed. This time he stopped with his nose only half an inch from Benny's. In a flash, the gun was removed from Benny's hand and when Odin moved again, he left the pistol at Benny's feet, broken down into pieces.

It was at this moment Benny felt immense hopelessness set into the pit of his stomach and threaten to swallow his entire body. He was breathing hard and somehow; he knew that Odin Sway was standing behind him. He turned to face the vampire and found him leaning his right elbow against a tall, eloquent monument that stood about ten yards away

"You have a sword there," Odin said, "why don't you use it?"

Benny thought the villain was toying with him, trying to trick him into doing something stupid, but it was hard to tell. Odin's face showed no emotion at all and Benny once again felt that strange attraction trying to take over. He knew it was only his overwhelming hatred for the creature that kept the spell in check.

Slowly, Benny stepped toward his sword and as he bent down to retrieve it with his right hand; he slipped his left up to his side and gripped the butt of an Uzi. With amazingly quick reflexes (for a human) he brought the Uzi up to fire. Before he pulled the trigger the gun was violently ripped from his hand and Odin Sway appeared back in front of the mausoleum with the weapon held up to his cheek like an actor in a buddy cop film.

Odin appeared to be taking no pleasure in this fiasco, nor did he seem angered, he merely tossed the gun aside and spoke to Benny in a low emotionless tone. "Guns are so uncivilized Mr. Writeman, please, show me your skill with that beautifully crafted blade. It's been so long since I've had anyone challenge me."

"Somehow, I don't think your desire for a challenge would be fulfilled," Benny said, unable to hide the anger in his voice.

"Perhaps," Odin returned in the same monotone voice. "Nevertheless, you seem to be getting nowhere with your popguns."

From a short distance behind him, Benny could hear his brother shouting obscenities, followed by an inhuman howl of pain. It sounded as though they had things under control, he found that at least a little comforting.

Benny reached down and picked up the sword. "Fine, have it your way."

Odin Sway pulled his walking cane apart to reveal a gleaming blade from within. The sight of the blade only increased Benny's rage, knowing full well this was the same one that killed his wife and shattered his world.

He pulled his sword out (tossing the sheath aside) and gripped the hilt with both hands, raising it up into a defensive position.

Odin Sway held his thin, long blade up with his right hand and placed his left behind his back, crouching in a classic fencing stance.

For a moment the two men only stared at each other, each one trying to predict the other's first move. It was Benny who opened, swinging his sword in a wide arch from his right side. The vampire blocked the attack without much effort, as well as the two blows that followed.

In a blur of motion that left Benny surrounded by a cyclone of fallen dead leaves, Odin sliced a long gash in his left shoulder blade. Benny's clothes began to feel sticky with the warm liquid that was pouring from the wound. He spun, bringing the sword upward as he turned, but Odin was no longer behind him. An instant later he felt his right thigh split open and a blossom of fresh pain rack his body.

Benny dropped to his knees just before another cut appeared on his right cheek. Suddenly he was on all fours, watching his blood drip on a large orange leaf. He felt an urge to stay there and see what kind of fascinating image would appear before Odin ended his life. Odin, however, was standing nearby, patiently waiting for his prey to stand and ready his sword.

With Great effort, Benny got to his feet and looked the vampire in the eyes. He couldn't let it end here. Avenging Autumn was the only thing that had kept him alive the last 24 hours. He had to prevail somehow.

"Why do you stand?" Odin asked. "Can't you see that you're beaten?"

Was that a hint of sympathy Benny heard in this creature's voice, or was the loss of blood affecting his perception? Are these beings even capable of such feelings?

Benny raised his sword once more but a quick swing of Odin's blade ripped the weapon from his hand. Suddenly, Benny found himself without a weapon, and the cold, long blade of Odin Sway's sword pressed against his jugular. Benny looked into the vampire's eyes and was again astounded by the lack of emotion there.

"I'm sorry, my friend," Odin said, "but this has gone way too far already, it needs to end now."

Benny closed his eyes and began whispering to himself as he waited to feel the blade rip into his throat.

With a suddenness that even made the vampire jump, the back door of the hearse flung open and Autumn stepped out.

Odin stared at the dead girl, and as he slowly backed away from Benny, a real emotion finally took over his stern face. That emotion was pure horror.

Autumn began to speak, but Odin's reaction to seeing her seemed to catch her off guard and her words were forgotten. Instead, her jaw only remained slack with shock.

Odin was still backing away when he tripped over a short headstone and (much to Benny and Autumn's surprise) continued to scuttle and kick himself away from the approaching dead girl.

Benny was so surprised by this turn of events that he only stood there for a moment, staring at the hysterical vampire as it scuttled away from his wife. With an effort, he shook off the shock, picked up his sword, and darted for Odin Sway. This was his best chance to kill the vampire before he could escape.

As Benny swung the sword, Odin quickly smacked the ground with both hands and pushed himself up into the air. All Benny could do was watch, as his wife's murderer flew away and disappeared into the night sky.

Frank had killed three werewolves and was trying desperately to find Jack through the tall corn stalks. He'd heard the gunfire from the graveyard and decided against the urge to go help Benny. He knew his youngest son's determination would keep him on his toes; however, his oldest son was having trouble dealing with this little adventure they were on. He was nervous, apprehensive, and, sometimes, just downright scared.

"Jack," he shouted, "where are you?"

"Over here," he heard Jack call back from his right.

"Keep talking, I'm coming to find you."

"Hurry up, Dad, I need your help."

Frank moved through the stalks as fast as he could and a few rows over nearly ran into his son.

"Jack, are you alright?" Looking around, Frank saw two dead werewolves back the way Jack had come.

"I'm fine," Jack replied, "for now."

The old man followed Jack's gaze and he could make out the dark shapes of five more werewolves closing in on them.

"C'mon," Frank said, "back the way I came."

But as the two men turned, they found more monstrous figures moving through the stalks. Frank grabbed his oldest son by the arm and turned back toward the graveyard, but again their path was blocked. They were completely surrounded by the beasts.

"What…What do we do now, Dad?" Jack whispered. "What do we do?"

Frank could tell he was on the verge of losing his composure. The Old Man quickly stowed his sword back in its sheath. "Guns!" he exclaimed, trying hard to put some measure of confidence in his voice. "Put your back against mine and start firing. Don't stop until we're the only motherfuckers standing in this cornfield. Do you understand?"

Jack swallowed hard, "Yeah," was all he said.

"And whatever you do, don't let one of them bite you."

"Right," Jack said, replacing his sword on his back and pulling two 9mm semi-automatic pistols from their holsters. Frank thought his oldest boy sounded a little surer of himself.

The Old Man pulled an AR-15 that was strapped to his back and began to fire, holding the grip of the weapon with his left hand in an effort to control the kick.

The rifle spoke in short barks, tearing through cornstalks and werewolves alike. Frank could hear the rapid fire of the two 9's Jack held as well as the satisfying cries of pain from the creatures moving in on them. They may just make it out of this one.

Just then, Frank noticed something that turned his blood ice cold. The werewolves they shot were falling dead, but more moved in behind them, only these were not creeping but running at full speed.

The clip on Frank's AR-15 went empty and he dropped the gun and pulled two .45's from his belt. The werewolves were getting closer and there seemed to be an endless stream of them hiding in the giant cornfield.

Frank turned to his right in time to see a large werewolf leaping toward him. He raised the .45 in his right hand and the cannon-like blast sent the creature reeling back in the direction it'd come with the top of its head torn off.

Jack kept his pistols blazing until they were both empty. He then tossed the guns aside and pulled two more 9's from shoulder holsters. The werewolves were unlike anything he had ever imagined. Oh, how TV and movies had lied to him. These things walked on their hind legs and at full height were nearly ten feet tall. Now that they were on full attack they weren't bothering to lay low and hide in the stalks. Besides, there weren't a lot of stalks left to hide behind, especially where Frank had used the AR-15.

As the werewolves drew closer, they began to swipe at them with long, hideous claws. They didn't seem to be mindless killers at all, but organized, intelligent beings that came at them in waves, and Frank and Jack both knew the next time they ran out of bullets, they were dead.

One of Frank's .45's blew a gaping hole in a werewolf's chest, while another's eye exploded from Jack's 9mm slug. This one's throat erupted in a volcanic shower of blood. That one's crotch caught a searing round and it let out a high-pitched squeal as it fell. This one got the 45 point-blank in the mouth, covering the monster behind it with brain and shattered teeth. That one got the 9mm point blank and its heart disintegrated in its chest. On and on it went until finally, Frank and Jack's guns were clicking on empty chambers.

This was it.

Both men knew they were about to die.

Jack closed his eyes, while Frank only stared up defiantly at the werewolf in front of him, its claw raised in preparation of tearing the old man's face off.

There was a sound like a crack of lightning and an eruption of automatic gunfire and the werewolf that was about to strike Frank was being riddled with bullet holes. Frank and Jack (as well as all of the werewolves surrounding them) turned to see where the shots had come from. A smile came over the Old Man's face as the hearse plowed through the cornfield with his youngest son laying flat on the roof and firing an AR-15 into the large crowd of werewolves.

Frank was not one to let an opportunity like this pass by. "Swords!" he yelled pulling his sword from its sheath once more.

Jack followed suit, and the two men began hacking away at the surrounding creatures as they cleared a path to the hearse.

The oldest Writeman boy could feel all the fear starting to rush from his body as it was replaced by pure adrenaline. Now that he had the sword in hand, and for the first time noticed the ease at which it sliced through their attackers, he knew he was lost to the total carnage. Although it shamed him to admit it, killing werewolves was something he could get used to.

After turning back toward the graveyard, the hearse came to a stop well clear of the pursuing werewolves. Benny jumped off the roof and yelled to his Father and Brother. "Get in the back, I'll cover you."

Frank and Jack opened the door and jumped in the back of the car while Benny picked off the werewolves with amazing accuracy.

After the two men were in the back, Benny ran for the passenger side door and jumped in.

"Go!" he shouted.

Autumn laid her foot on the gas and the car wheels began to spin in the soft soil of the cornfield.

"Shit!" Benny exclaimed, "Just try to pull out slowly."

Autumn let off the gas and then began to press the peddle back down, lightly. The hearse began to pick up speed and pull away from the fray. She glanced into the rearview mirror and could see the monsters were closing in fast.

In the back, Frank handed Jack an AR-15 and then grabbed a belt that had six fist-sized balls hanging from it.

"Ha ha, watch this," Frank shouted maniacally, throwing the belt out the back window. Two seconds later, there was a large explosion and about twenty werewolves fell dead.

"Holy shit!" Jack shouted.

"Silver shrapnel grenades," the old man said, still grinning.

Autumn had the car moving now and soon they were back on the graveyard's narrow, winding road. She felt the car pull as they hit a curve and knew she had to slow down or they would end up hitting one of the many surrounding trees.

The werewolves were not letting up in their pursuit despite the constant blasts from Jack's gun. Autumn had to slow down again as they rounded another sharp curve and that was all it took for two of the creatures to leap onto the roof of the car.

"Get down!" Frank shouted at the others as he pushed Jack to lay flat on his back. An instant later, the earsplitting sound of twisting metal filled the interior of the hearse as sharp, black claws tore through the roof.

Jack tried desperately to pull his rifle up to fire but had somehow pinned it beneath his leg when his father had pushed him backward.

A heavy explosion sounded to Jack's right and he knew the Old Man had gotten his hands on another .45. A shower of blood rained down on the two men in the back of the car and Jack caught just a glimpse of the creature's body as it rolled off the back of the hearse. A large, bloody hole had been made in its chest.

The sound of crashing glass caught both of the men's attention and their blood-covered clothes were quickly forgotten. The second werewolf had put a hairy, clawed hand through the passenger side window and was trying to pull Benny out of the car.

Frank quickly stood up and peered through the new moon roof the first wolf had created. He took the only shot he had and a second later the remaining creature was yelping from the slug that entered its ass.

Using its claws to steady itself, the werewolf turned its attention to the Old Man. Another shot from the .45 sprayed werewolf brain across the colorful leaves that littered the roadside. The creature's headless body tumbled off the hearse and Frank dropped back down through the opening.

Autumn had finally pulled onto the main road and was beginning to pick up speed. A few of the more determined werewolves stayed on their tail but were quickly disposed of by Jack's Ar-15. Soon, there wasn't a werewolf in sight and the Writemans were back on the road, all of them breathing hard and letting the adrenaline drain from their bodies.

Frank looked around at his family and abruptly shouted; "I don't know about you guys, but that was about the most goddamned fun I've had in my whole life."

The others looked at the old man in disbelief for a moment, but their faces soon gave way to relieved laughter and Autumn kept driving west until dawn.