Turkey Jerky
Smashwords Edition

M.T. Murphy
http://www.luciferaspet.com
©2010 by M.T. Murphy
All rights reserved.
Discover other titles by M.T. Murphy at Smashwords.com
Lucifera’s Pet – 
Silver Shells: A Werewolf Gunslinger Tale Volume 1 
Stitches: A Werewolf Gunslinger Tale Volume 2  

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“You Benny?”
 “I might be.”
Benny had opened the front door but he kept it between him and the stranger. He watched as the man slumped against the outside of the door frame seemingly in a mixture of boredom and weariness. 
Old leather jacket. White t-shirt. Jeans. The stranger wasn’t even six feet tall. The only thing memorable about him was his pork chop sideburns.
“It’s time to pay up, Benny.”
So that’s the way it was. No chitchat. Benny nodded. He had planned ahead.
“Yeah, I know. This ought to cover it.”
He opened the front door completely, lifted the shotgun, and shot the stranger square in the chest. The man toppled backward off the porch and landed flat on his back in the grass. 
Benny shook his head, trying in vain to rid himself of the ringing in his ears that followed the blast. He took a step forward to survey the carnage. There was a bloody hole in the stranger’s chest. A tiny bit of smoke escaped from the wound and wafted upwards toward the harvest moon.  
Dead. No doubt. It wasn’t over, though. More would come and he needed to be far from here when they arrived.
He went to his bedroom and grabbed the travel bag. Two changes of clothes ought to do it. He’d have to travel light. 
He was packing his deodorant into the bag when it hit him: the stranger was dead. With the pull of a trigger he had ended another man’s life. An unexpected wave of guilt washed over him and Benny began to weep. Playing with unsavory characters was one thing. Getting his own hands dirty was something different entirely.
Deep breath. He couldn’t afford to crack. The plane tickets were in his pocket. He’d meet her at the airport and they’d be in El Paso by morning. A leisurely stroll across the border to Juarez and the nightmare would be over. The outlaws in that town were nothing compared to what he was leaving behind. 
He wiped the tears from his eyes with trembling hands. No regrets. He swore he’d do what he had to do to survive. 
Fact: The stranger would have killed him.  
Fact: Now he would live at least a little longer.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Benny walked out the door of his old house for the last time. His eyes never drifted to the grass where the stranger’s body was. He wanted to put a hundred miles between himself and that place before midnight. 
“I’m being careless,” he muttered. He thought back to the instant before he shot the stranger. Had the man pulled a gun? 
No. He had just stood there. More pangs of guilt tugged at Benny’s mind. He pushed past it, letting logic take over.
Benny knew if he left things like that, it would be murder. That was simple enough to fix. Put a rock in the man’s dead hand and murder instantly changed to self defense in the eyes of the law. 
Picking up an old brick off of the porch, he let out a deep breath and turned to look at the body. 
There wasn’t one. 
Benny blinked. Then he dropped the brick and ran to the empty spot on the grass. The blades were still pressed down from the weight of the absent corpse. 
“Careless,” he whispered. Of course. They had sent two men. The stranger’s partner must have dragged him away. 
 A violent crash around the corner made Benny jump. The sound came from near his car. He pulled the pistol out of his jacket and crept towards the sound. He peered around the edge, holding the gun at ready. 
His car was still in one piece, more or less. But it now sat upside-down. Something had rolled the old sedan completely over onto its roof. 
The pistol felt like it weighed a ton in his wobbly hand as Benny walked slowly backward, retracing his path to the entrance. He slipped inside, slamming the door and fastening the four bolt and chain locks. For once, he was thankful the house’s previous owner had been a paranoid nut job. Those bars on the doors and windows just might keep him alive. 
Something crashed against the front door. Wood and metal exploded inside the foyer, knocking Benny to the floor. The dislodged metal burglar bars landed neatly by the wall.
The thing had to be a bear. Nothing else could have splintered the door like that. He tried to remember how to survive a bear attack. Play dead? Scream? The pistol slid well under the couch in the commotion so he’d have to think fast.
Benny summoned his courage and rose to his feet, turning towards the animal with arms outstretched. “Go away Mr. Bear! This is my house and I want you gone! Yaaah!” It was corny, but it was the best he could do on short notice. He figured loud noise was the key anyway.
The great black beast was the oddest looking bear he had ever seen. Its presence filled the entire room and sucked away all the light at the same time. It stood seven feet tall with a head that was not at all bear-like. It was more similar to a dog. Or a wolf. 
There was also something very unpleasant about its eyes: they were glowing.
The animal regarded Benny, tilting its head to the side. It did not advance, but it also made no move to leave.
Benny ignored his own fear and stepped forward shouting, “Get out!”
A massive black hand closed around Benny’s throat and forced him against the wall. 
“I knew I should have played dead,” he thought.
The thing leaned in, bringing its snout to rest against Benny’s nose. 
“Do you have any buffalo jerky?” it asked.
Benny blinked. What had sounded like the growl of a bear also seemed to contain words. 
“What was that?”
The beast sighed. “I said do you have any buffalo jerky? This is your lucky day. If you give me some buffalo jerky, I will let you live.”
“Wh-what?”
It slammed Benny against the wall and lifted him up. He found himself hanging by the neck with his feet inches from the floor. 
“I’ll just kill ya now and get it over with,” the thing grumbled.
“Wait! No!” Benny grabbed the animal’s arm with both hands and struggled to take some of the pressure off of his neck. “No. I don’t have any buffalo jerky. I do have turkey jerky, though. It is delicious and low in sodium.”
“Turkey jerky?” the beast snarled.
“Yes. If you try it you’ll forget all about buffalo jerky. I swear!” Benny would have sworn he was the king of France to get that horrible thing to let him go.
“Hmm.” The monster lowered Benny in its grasp, letting him put his weight on his feet. “Somebody paid a lot of money to see you dead. It will take a lot more than turkey jerky to make me disappoint them. Sorry. I’m sure you understand.” The growl did sound very apologetic. 
Two slashes from its gruesome claws and a bite to the throat left Benny looking like the victim of a bear attack. The coroner would have to gather his remains in a garbage bag or two. The airline tickets would go unused. 
The monster held up a piece of paper that had been in its left hand the entire time. It dipped a claw into the blood trickling out of Benny’s neck and then crossed his name off of the list.
The werewolf scratched its chest. The shotgun blast had hurt like crazy, but the itching as it healed was far more annoying. It walked towards the door, but stopped. The beast remembered Benny’s dying words and plodded to the kitchen. Finding the unopened pack of turkey jerky, it ripped the bag and dumped the contents into its gaping maw. 
“Mmm. Turkey jerky. Good stuff.”

Dear Reader,
Thanks for giving this tiny story a read. Stay tuned. There is much more weirdness where that came from.
I killed the feral gerbils. Now they are undead. Stupid feral gerbil zombies.
Howlingly yours,
M.T. Murphy
authormikemurphy@gmail.com
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About the Author

M.T. Murphy prefers his vampires evil, his werewolves feral, his facial hair excessive, and thinks that shades of gray are far more interesting than black and white. He lives in a den deep in the woods of Alabama with his beautiful and patient wife, their two ridiculously adorable children, and a were-Schnauzer named Logan.