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yourself against what you’ll find.” Then he turns to Sidekick, “And you’re going to escort him there.” Joe steps back but speaks again before either of us could protest. “We know the land better as well as the dangers that lurk. And I don’t want any of our kind getting in your way. On your own, you’re as good as dead. Together, you’ll get there safely and we need to know what’s going on as well.”
    Silver Joe knew me well. If this started because some lone wolf went to the graveyard, I had to check it out and make su re whatever threat still exists there is dealt with. And I strongly suspect the answer to why Old Man Jones was laid out like my brother would be there as well. I nod. I look at Sidekick. “Well, look at that… you’re my official tour guide.”
    “I’ll get you there. But I’m not bringing you back,” Sidekick snarls. Joe snarls louder and Sidekick gives in. “Fine… you’re going to need more than the pistol. Load up. Anything but what was once yours.”
    I go to the rifle rack. I reach for my pa’s then as Sidekick reacts to my gesture I flip him the bird and grab the Rugen, using the strap to sling it over my shoulder. My pa’s rifle could wait for another day. Next, I rummage through the draw and grab its matching ammo, along with a few more additional magazines for the SD9. I open the draw below it and see a selection of knives and other sharp hand-held weapons. But, unfortunately, not the ones I came in with. They stripped me of those before they woke me and must’ve hid them elsewhere. I grab two daggers, an axe, and put a machete in my belt. Then I go back to the gun table and grab the Colt. I don’t need any ammo for it. I have no plans to use it. Once this is over I’m going to sell it. A second generation, in as good condition as this one, is worth around a cool ten grand.

    Chapter 10
     
    I call Sheriff Martaan and tell him I’m as okay as Wyatt Earp at the OK Corral. Only he and I know what that really means. I give him the rest of the sitrep, hearing the relief in his voice as I do, then Sidekick and I are off to grandma’s house. The other wolves are glaring at us. They look mean, but they always look like that so I can’t read their true intentions. But with Sidekick next to me they leave me alone.
    We hit the woods, the light of the full moon piercing its way through the treetops enough where I can see my way. I figure the graveyard’s about a two-mile hike so I decide to make some small talk. “So, where are you from?” I ask, like we’re two travelers randomly meeting on vacation.
    “What the fuck is that sup posed to mean?” Sidekick replies.
    “I mean originally. What were you in your previous life? Before you were this. Before yo u were bitten,” I ask.
    “Bitten?” He snorts. It was a guffaw, yet with the throaty growl of a wolf. “You have no idea where werewo lves come from, do ya?” he adds, trotting ahead of me as if I was insignificant.
    I could tell his opinion of me dropped a notch. Not hatred wise—he hated me worse than anyone could—but knowledge wise. He thought I was smarter. But he was right. Other than knowing how to kill them , I really didn’t know much about ‘em. Maybe werewolves weren’t turned by being bitten. Still, he was pissing me off and I never properly paid him back for pissing on me.
    His arrogant rump was a few yards ahead of me. I think about testing the accuracy of the SD9, plugging him one where the sun don’t shine. But no silver meant he’d heal in seconds and I don’t cherish the thought of him returning the favor. He wasn’t looking at me. I could ditch him too—I knew I couldn’t fully trust him—but Silver Joe put me in a smart box. If there were other wolves out to get me, or other things that Sidekick knew about that I didn’t, Sidekick was my best chance for survival. The enemy of my unknown enemy was momentarily my friend. Any petty revenge I could plan would have to wait until