Bud Hutchins Collection by J B Michaels

Author:J B Michaels [Michaels, J B]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781974014477
Publisher: Harrison and James Publishing
Published: 2019-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

31

A Pint Of Blood And A Shot Of Silver

Bud followed the werewolf's blood trail in the direction of the heart of Llanwelly.

"Oh this may-" Bud labored in pursuit. "This may turn into a particularly problematic debacle."

Bud saw the werewolf reach the dimly lit cobblestone streets. The werewolf stopped next to a street lamp, removed the scimitar from his side. The beast let out a loud howl, "AWOOOOOO!"

The werewolf's break spurred Bud to move faster, but the creature heard him and ran towards the raucous noise of Johnson's Pub.

"Hence, the heightened difficulty of this ridiculous encounter," Bud said. He almost ran past the bloodied scimitar. "How can I be so ill of mind?" Bud picked the blade up and disregarded the awful smell and sinewy film that covered it.

The werewolf burst into Johnson's Pub, hungry, hurt, and ready to feast. Bud jumped over the remains of the doorway, similar to the castle. The patrons yelled and panicked. Some ran to the bathrooms. Others had jumped behind the bar.

Bud scanned the room for anyone that might be of sound mind and fit body to help him push the beast down. The patrons of Johnson's pub ranged in age from 55 to 18. A communal pub for the drinkers of Llanwelly. The old trusty dive bar.

One older man in a golf cap took a swig of his beer and turned away from the bar.

"Alright, me son. What the fuck do we have 'ere?"

The werewolf was bleeding all over the floor of the pub. He slipped on his own mess but recovered quickly and launched towards a group of six younger patrons at the bar. The group scattered.

"It's bleeding true it is!" a younger man, not much older than Bud yelled.

"It's the Beast of Llanwelly!" a woman yelled.

Most of the patrons bolted for the exit. The werewolf clawed a middle aged man. Blood spattered against a card table. The rest of the patrons made a clean exit.

The man in the golf cap still sat in his stool observing the chaos. "Fuck it. Ang," the man said to the barkeep, "Give me my shotgun."

Bud grabbed a chair in his left hand and held it up like a lion tamer. He raised the scimitar with his right hand. He would try to corner the Beast then stab it to death. The werewolf grunted and pounced towards the man on the floor. Bud lunged at the beast with the chair. The werewolf bit a leg off the makeshift shield and Bud struggled to keep a grip on it.

The werewolf clamped on another leg of the chair with its jaws. Beads of sweat spewed from Bud's brow. He shook violently from the might of the werewolf's bite. His hands blistered. His grip weakened. His energy waned.

BOOM.

The werewolf's body jolted and crashed through a card table. The man in the golf cap confidently stood over the shocked werewolf with a double barreled shotgun and emptied the second barrel into its head.

BOOM.

"Aye, that'll fuckin' do me son."

Bud stood dumbfounded, amazed, and grateful.

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