lobby.
“Will those do?” asked Catrina.
“Nope.”
Two more torsos bounced into the lobby.
“OK,” said Thor. “What the hell.”
Thirty: Ding, Dong, Ding
Thor and Catrina stood in the broken, busted-up foyer of the Secaucus Holiday Inn and looked out over the plaza. Before them was an enormous, bulging werewolf, juggling a variety of appendages and heads with admirable skill.
“That’s new,” commented Catrina.
Thor scanned the rest of the plaza. To the left of what he had been assuming was some kind of escaped circus animal were three scientists: one looking on with curiosity, one looking on with a burlap sack over her head, and one sitting on the ground, clutching his knees and weeping. Thor pointed them out to Catrina.
“Think we should go talk to them?” he asked.
“You are aware of the giant wolfman between them and us, correct?”
“Yes.”
“The one playing with body parts?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re aware that we’re made of body parts, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you still think it’s smart to go over there?”
“Verily.”
“OK,” said Catrina, nodding her head, “have fun with that. If you need me, I’ll be grabbing the axe from the break room and then locking myself upstairs and hiding under my bed.”
“Like an axe is gonna hurt that thing,” replied Thor. “Besides, you know we never clean under the beds. There’s bound to be something just as terrible living under there.”
“Damn,” said Catrina, confused and upset that she was forced to agree with Thor. More importantly, that she was sober when doing so.
“Fine,” she relented. “But if you get me killed, I’m coming back and haunting the shit out of you. And I mean constantly. When you’re asleep, in the shower, when you’re flirting up some senorita, whatever. I’m not gonna be nice about it.”
“We’ll be fine,” replied Thor. “Just stay with me.”
He grabbed her hand and led her around the edge of the plaza toward the scientists.
The beast, singing “Frere Jacques” and balancing a severed arm on its nose, didn’t seem to notice.
Thirty-One: It’s Always the Completely Batshit Insane Ones
Thor and Catrina reached the scientists just as it began to rain.
“Yo,” said Thor.
“Yo, indeed,” said Dr. Lalas. “I’m Dr. Alexi Lalas; this is my assistant, Julie.”
“Judy,” said Judy.
“Judy,” said Dr. Lalas. “And this,” he patted the still weeping Dr. Meola on the head, “is Dr. Meola.”
“Thor,” said Thor, nodding and extending his hand.
“Catrina,” said Catrina, doing the same.
“Nice to meet you,” said Dr. Lalas, shaking Thor’s hand.
“Pleasure,” said Judy, shaking Catrina’s.
The foursome switched partners and continued the introductory hand-clasping. Once finished, they stood in the plaza silently, looking at one another with complete neutrality. The rain continued to fall.
Judy pulled her lab coat tighter. Catrina crossed her arms across her chest and huddled closer to Thor.
Dr. Lalas smiled weakly and nodded at the hotel employees.
The rain began falling harder.
“So, uh, what the hell is that?” asked Thor, pointing a thumb at the super-wolfman, which was now standing on its hands and juggling scientist pieces with its feet.
“That,” said Dr. Lalas, “is test subject 37-E, a hybrid of a werewolf and an irradiated, mutated human, engineered to be preternaturally aggressive, intelligent, and athletic.”
Thor nodded in agreement a few times before blurting out, “Why in the holy fuck would you do that?!”
“Kinda just… because we could. Basically.”
“Who,” asked Catrina, “is it juggling?”
“My associate, Dr. Ramos.”
Judy cleared her throat aggressively.
“And a couple of interns.”
“They had names, damn it!” said Judy.
“Yes, yes, Jamie,” said Dr. Lalas, “I’m sure they did.”
Judy screamed incoherently, then pulled out a revolver from inside her lab coat and shot Dr. Lalas in the leg.
“Gah, fuck,” he said, before folding to the ground like a deck of cards made of meat and bone and possessing a doctorate.
“Crazy bitch…” he continued, before Judy shot him again, twice, in the face.
Thor and Catrina stared at her, wide-eyed. They took a step back. Slowly.
“You guys, uh,” said Judy, “you mind if we blame the wolf for that?”
“No, no,” said Thor, “go right ahead.”
“Yeah, totally,” said Catrina. “Absolutely.”
Thirty-Two: Adapt or Die
“And, so,” concluded Judy, “we followed it here, where it proceeded to grotesquely massacre everyone except for myself and Dr. Meola.”
She motioned to Dr. Meola. He was lying in a puddle near the edge of the plaza, curled up in the fetal position and sucking his thumb.
“Even though it really probably should have.”
“But why is it singing?” asked Catrina.
“Couldn’t tell ya.”
“I… I think it’s having a tea party with the heads…”
“Huh, yeah. Looks like,” said Judy. “Maybe the thing’s retarded. Or maybe it just really enjoys dismembering people. Who knows?”
“Well, you, right?” said Catrina. “You should.”
“Pfft, please. I
Catrina held back on a response, waiting for Judy to finish her sentence.
Judy did not.
“OK,” said Thor, eventually, “OK. So. You and your scientist friends got bored and created an unstoppable, homicidal monster. Then you let it escape. And then you failed, utterly, in your attempt to stop it, and, in fact, most
