Amish Werewolf

By G J Armstrong

'A rare insight into the age-old battle between the Amish and the Werewolf curse.'

Her boyfriend and the band she started with him have betrayed Liz. This leads to a life-changing encounter with a beast carrying the ancient curse that transforms the victim into their greatest fear.
Liz tries to hide her secret, but her worst nightmare is quickly spread as she loses control. Liz wants to live out her dream as a successful musician, but other passions and desires are now in her blood, and they want to take over. Her family become involved in her struggle and they attempt to hide their dark secret. Becoming the thing you fear is hard to cover up and they flee to the wilderness as the federal agents hunting them close in on their suburb.
Liz finds a new singer for her band, but the rules and restrictions of his Amish community oppose Liz in her quest to make him a rock star. Liz also develops feelings for Zachary. Her dark side also has plans for the unsuspecting Amish farmer and their relationship becomes complicated and very messy.
Amish Werewolf is a fresh and sometimes hilarious addition to the werewolf legend. It is a story of love and anger, really nice organic cheese, tradition and Chihuahuas.
The Amish know something strange is going on. They are in danger, and the full moon is coming. Will their dated wardrobes, prayers and cows save them from the bloodlust of the werewolf? Read on and find out . . . if you dare!

'Deeply upsetting to those of us afflicted with the Lycan curse. We're not like this at all! It's perfectly safe to run around the wilderness in a horror story during the full moon.'
Bobby; Lycan's are people too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G J Armstrong
• Release date: May 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463989272

G J Armstrong

Author G J ArmstrongI have taken Stephen King's advice that only those who know what is good can write about that which is evil [horrific].Amish Werewolf carries both of these elements. I did a lot of study on the Amish , and I hope the reader comes away with a greater appreciation of their lifestyle. I also looked into the history of werewolves and shape-shifters and tried to write characters who are relatable and have a mixture of good and bad intentions.I was fascinated to discover that fear played a big part in the development of the werewolf story. Villagers were terrified of wolves. That fact got me thinking about the modern world and what we would transform into in the world of zombies, killer clowns and other scary creatures.I hope to write a sequel to Amish Werewolf and I am currently finishing a dystopian novel based in New Zealand.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Stepping out

Sometimes the veil was lifted and we were able to see the world that existed in the shadows. The moment I'd stepped from the van, I'd begun to feel a discomfort unrelated to the chill in the air. I was about to see horrific injuries among the accident victims nearby, but there was something worse going on. The sixth sense I'd never used in my twenty-one years on earth had awakened. It started sounding the alarm. The world seemed hostile and alien.

As Kyle and I stepped from the media van, I knew we had more questions than answers. It doesn't look that bad, Liz. Kyle said, staring across at the red hatchback that was blocking the narrow country road.

We both stood and accessed the unusual rural Seattle scene. What did they hit? I asked. Other than a few cows in the fields, there were no signs of life.

The vehicle was almost sideways across the road, as though the driver tried to swerve and avoid whatever they'd hit. There were no signs of movement from the two bodies. One was still in the driver's seat and the passenger lay on the grass verge beside the car.

We were both used to being out of place and out of step with our culture and surrounding, but this was strange at a whole new level.

"This is way more weird than a stray kitten being adopted by a pig." Kyle said, reaching for her handbag. We'd been on the way to film it as a quirky story for a breakfast news item. Her producer Max had parked a long way from the accident. He was sitting in his seat talking to the emergency services.

Go and see what happened! he said. They want to know how many people are injured.

What if who or what caused that is still hanging around? Kyle said, squinting her eyes in anger.

I'm sure we would've scared it off, Max said. You'll be fine. He returned to talking to the emergency services on the phone.

I doubted we'd scare off anything much bigger than the mid-sized rat that had run away as we'd pulled up. Kyle was an aspiring reporter and had the classic news reporter look—conservatively dressed and with mid-length blonde hair, engaging intense blue eyes and a gleaming smile. I had the grunge musician image happening: long brown hair, a thin athletic physique and a long overcoat covering my Who T-shirt and tight jeans. We weren’t scaring anyone.

Max is such a coward, Kyle said, What's he doing . . . telling the operator his life story?

We should check it out, I said, willing myself to move towards the car. Someone may need medical attention.

No Liz, wait. Kyle said, We need some protection. She rummaged through her handbag and retrieved a can of pepper spray. Okay, I'm ready.

Where's the first aid kit? I asked. That may be more useful.

Kyle reached into the back of the van and found the plastic box with a red cross on it. Here you go, she said. I hope no one needs CPR."

I grabbed the first aid kit. Why?

You know I still haven't been kissed, Kyle said. I'd hate to —you know —waste my first kiss on someone who isn't even breathing.

I shook my head in disbelief. Part of Kyle's social isolation was her ability to say inappropriate or random things that made people uncomfortable. I wasn't sure why. She had grown up overseas, so I'd decided it gave her a license to make two stupid statements per day before I started telling her off. She’d just used up the first one.

What are you talking about? I asked. I'm pretty sure giving CPR won't count as a kiss.

It is lip on lip though, Kyle said. What's the difference?

Let's worry about that issue when we have to face it, I said. I took a deep breath and advanced towards the car.

Kyle fell into stride beside me. I imagined malicious eyes watching us from the long grass along the side of the road . . . or a psychotic serial killer peering through the bushes of a neighboring farm. We almost looked confident and unafraid as we marched shoulder to shoulder towards the car.

Then Kyle hunched forwards with a groan and threw up all over my vintage Doc Marten boots.

What the hell? I said.

Kyle was still bent over, but she extended her finger and pointed at the figure sitting behind the wheel. Sorry Liz. I don't think he needs CPR, she whispered.

Shattered glass was scattered around the area. The person who'd been driving was still wearing their seatbelt, but it hadn't saved them. I could see shredded ribbons of flesh and the white of bone along the driver’s throat and jaw. I lifted my hand to my mouth as my stomach churned, but a lifetime of playing zombie video games had prepared me for gory scenes. I managed not to throw up.

I stepped around the back of the car and across to where the other body was resting. It was a male wearing jeans and a dark sweatshirt that was soaked with blood. He was face down and looked like he'd been trying to escape from the vehicle when he'd been attacked. I could tell from the blood and torn up fabric and flesh around his neck that he'd been mauled.

I noticed Kyle hurrying back to the van. Are they alive? she asked.

I shook my head. No.

We should do a report, she said, I'll need a hand with the equipment.

Whatever did this is still out here, I said. Maybe we should stay in the van until the cops arrive.

Kyle stopped and looked around. I could see her holding her can of pepper spray, as though she was ready for whatever monster had just killed the two men. No. I think it's gone. We should get some coverage before the police arrive. She ran back to the van and I followed close behind her. I didn’t want to be left alone with the bodies.

Max took some persuasion, but he agreed to set up the camera gear. I got busy putting large windsleeves on the microphones and then helped Kyle with her hair and makeup. Even with the foundation I'd applied and the lipstick she’d put on, she still looked pale and almost ghoulish. Once the camera was on her, she recorded a brief report and then Max circled the crime scene with his camera as Kyle commented on what we were seeing.

Okay, That'll do. We'll interview the emergency services once they've taken a look at what happened, Max said. "I'll call our other appointments and tell them we're going to be delayed. He moved into the back of the van to check and begin to edit the footage.

I cleaned my boots with some hand towels as Kyle sat in the passengers seat with her hand over her mouth as though she was preparing to vomit again. We could hear sirens in the distance. Kyle sipped from her water bottle for a moment and then focused her attention on me. So what do you think happened?

I shrugged my shoulders, I have no idea. From the damage to the front of the car, it looks like they hit an animal. Maybe they ran into a bunch of wolves or a bear. They were both mauled by something.

I think the passenger tried to run, Kyle said. They ran into something and I think it hit the windshield and broke it. For some reason they both stayed in the car. The driver was attacked first. The passenger saw what was happening and ran.

I shivered as I thought about the shredded throat, Where's the creature that did it? There was blood on the hood of the car, but no other sign of a wounded animal crawling away to die.

I don't know? Something doesn't add up, Kyle said.

I could see two vehicles approaching at speed. One was coming from the road to the north and we could hear its siren and see the flashing lights. The other vehicle was moving along a country road to the south, creating a huge dust cloud behind it.

Kyle groaned and slid from the seat, I'm so sorry, Liz, she said. I bet you wished you'd said no when I asked for help today.

It's not your fault, I said. I was regretting agreeing to help her, but the offer of some extra cash had been enough to deny me my usual Saturday sleep in. I need my guitar though, I said, flexing my fingers. Music was my therapy. Some people got help going for counseling or taking a walk, but I was like the tormented Blues musicians of the past—playing music was my medicine.

I bet you do, Kyle said. I know I need a drink and some chocolate—lots of chocolate.

We walked across to the vehicle that had parked behind us. A thin man with a brown leathery complexion from spending a lifetime outdoors jumped from the seat of the utility truck. He looked anxious, like he was jacked up on caffeine or something stronger. He didn't look crazy, but we both stepped back, just in case.

I can't believe I beat them here, he said in a drawling Southern accent. The cops had just arrived and two of them were closing off the road. We called them a while back, Kyle said. We're out in the middle of nowhere.

The man put on a faded cowboy hat and hid his piercing grey eyes behind a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. Not the police. I'm talking about the people who are about to take over this investigation and pull down the shroud of secrecy.

Kyle glanced across at me and gave me a knowing look and took another step back. What are you talking about?

I knew I was close, the man said. He stepped forwards and extended his hand to Kyle, I'm Angelo.

He shook Kyle's hand as she introduced us. So, you're both looking pretty shook up, he said. How many people are leaving here in body bags?

Two . . . I only saw two, Kyle said.

Angelo pointed to the back of the van, where Max was busy editing the report. Would you mind letting me have a look at the footage before it gets confiscated.

Kyle frowned. We're about to send the report back to our studio. No one is confiscating it.

Give them time, Angelo said, grinning. Are you going to introduce me to your friend or not?

We turned and stared as a helicopter began to approach from the south. Here they come! he said. We need to hurry. He began to march towards the door of the truck as Kyle hurried to join him.

This is Angelo, Kyle said to Max. He wants to see our footage.

I watched as two men in grey suits stepped from the helicopter that had landed in a neighboring field.

It'd be a shame to see all your hard work wasted, Angelo said. You should upload it back to your TV studio now. He pointed to where two men were running across to the accident scene. After they see what happened, they're going to come and take everything.

Kyle gave him a skeptical scowl. No they won't. They're not allowed to do that . . . are they? She looked across at Max, who shrugged his shoulders.

Mark my words; they're coming for it! Angelo said.

We'll upload it now, Max said. He ran through the report he'd compiled as Kyle and Angelo watched it on the monitor screen. Who are you anyway? Max asked once the file had been sent.

I'm like you, Angelo said. I just want the truth. I've been looking for the person who caused this accident. Just give me a close-up of the point of impact on the vehicle and I'll tell you what's really going on.

Max and Kyle exchanged nervous glances for a moment before Kyle spoke. Okay, she said, we don't have anything to lose.

There! Angelo said as they ran through the footage, can you get a close-up of that area.

I peered inside as they enlarged the image of where the bumper and hood had impacted whatever the vehicle had hit. There was a huge dent and some scratches and blood, but it was what was caught under the lip of the hood that Angelo wanted to see. I hadn't noticed it before, but there was a small clump of dark grey fur caught under it.

I thought so, Angelo said. Now, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a quick look at one of the victims?

I stepped away from the van. I'd seen enough blood. Definitely a werewolf, Angelo was saying as they watched the images. No bear or wolf would've done that. Just co-operate when the agent's come for the footage, and don't mention anything about werewolves. Tell them you have no idea what happened.

You got what you wanted, Kyle said. I'd like you to leave us so we can finish our work. I could tell from the tone of her voice that she suspected Angelo was crazy.

No problem. I understand completely, Angelo said. Think about what's about to happen though, he said. If this was just an accident, why would they send so many agents?

Kyle peered out of the van at the two suited agents talking to the cops. There are only two of them! she said.

Are there? Angelo asked, stepping from the van. Wait a few minutes and do a recount.

An ambulance had just arrived at the scene, but hadn't turned up with its siren blaring. They must've known the victims were beyond medical help.

I'll leave you to talk to the agents, Angelo said. They'll give you a story about some wolves. Go along with it; but think about what you filmed. That car hit a creature hard enough to kill it. The car stopped and then the creature recovered. It lost control and attacked them.

How does that work? I asked. Whatever the car crashed into would've had massive injures. There's no way—

Werewolves heal very quickly, Angelo said. That's why they're so hard to kill.

I shook my head. That's crazy! Werewolves don't exist. You saw the grey fur, it must've been a wild animal. I followed Angelo back to his vehicle. Do you really believe in werewolves? I asked. What evidence do you have?

Angelo leant on a section of fence where he could watch what was happening. I believe in them because my son became one. I think he did this.

I began to feel sorry for him. I'd done a bit of busking with my guitar and met a few people with mental illnesses. I'd always give them money for coffee and spend a while trying to talk to them, but Angelo was different. He seemed so confidant in what he believed, and didn't care about my disbelief. I wanted to challenge him and find out why he was so certain.

Explain how that works? I asked. The agents were now at the media van talking to Max and Kyle. One of them was taking some notes as the other Agent stepped into the van. I doubted we'd be leaving any time soon.

Angelo's sun beaten face creased into a wide grin, you asked for it! he said. Get ready to have everything you thought you knew about werewolves turned upside down.

Chapter 2: Angelo

Both agents were going through the media van files. I'd been trying to figure out what Angelo believed, but the incessant yapping coming from the cage sitting on the tray of his pickup finally got the better of me. Angelo followed me over as I investigated.

They're my tracking dogs, he said, I'm waiting to see where the federal agents begin their search. I've got a good idea where the werewolf has gone. I'll track it once the agents let us go.

The screeching and barking was almost deafening as I walked to the cage, but the dogs went silent as I leaned over to look at them. I could see their thin brown and black bodies and uniquely shaped heads.

They're Chihuahuas, I said. Of all the dogs I'd expect someone to use to track a monster, Chihuahuas would be one of my last choices.

The finest werewolf hunting dogs in the world, Angelo said. They're so little they have to work as a team and they have no fear. I've seen my dogs circle and attack monsters nearly a hundred times bigger than they are.

Isn't that just because they're stupid? I asked. I have a Chihuahua at home. He does the same thing to a Rottweiler on our street.

Angelo waved his hands dismissively. He looked upset. No, no. They're not stupid. People see them as cute, loyal pets; but train them well and their courage makes them a force to be reckoned with.

I repressed the urge to laugh. I'd already decided he was a-few-potatoes- short of a serving of French fries. Now I was convinced. Really? I said, shaking my head.

Yes. He opened the cage and pulled out a brown short-hair Chihuahua that licked his hand as it stared at me. "God in his wisdom, made the Chihuahua very tiny—otherwise most of the other animals would've been wiped out."

I patted his dog for a moment, but a cloud of dust on the road to the north caught my eye. A line of black SUV's were heading in our direction. They slid to a halt and seconds later the crash site was swarming with agents.

I don't know how many agents you're seeing, Angelo said. But I can count at least eight.

I began to suspect that Angelo wasn't as crazy as I'd believed. There do seem to be a lot of them, I said. You said you'd tell me about werewolves. What do you know about them?

I know more than most people alive, Angelo answered. The reason I know it was my son was because of the fur. Now days, it's rare for a person infected by a shape shifter to become a wolf. Most people infected by the virus are afraid of other things.

The classic image of a half-human, half-wolf creature came into my mind. What are you talking about? I thought all werewolves had fur?

Angelo put his dog back in the cage. That's a misunderstanding. Back in the dark ages when the legend started, most people lived in villages where they were terrified of wolves. The virus changes you into your greatest fear. Some European villagers turned into bears, but most became wolf-like.

I wasn't ready to abandon the understanding I'd developed from years of watching horror movies. I thought it was a werewolf curse? I said. Why do you keep calling it a virus?

Angelo grinned. "It is a curse to be bitten, but the virus is the curse. I don't know how it all began, or where it came from, but the virus is intelligent. It has the ability to get inside its victims mind and control its host."

A smart virus that knows your thoughts? I asked. If that's true, why have I never heard of it?

Angelo pointed to the Agents. They're terrified that it continues to spread and they don't want the public to panic. Fear is a dangerous thing.

I looked across at the armed agents who were guarding the area. They don't look like they're scared of anything.

They are, Angelo said. The virus knows we can be dominated by what we fear. It thinks we fear the creatures in our environment that are superior to us. They know the creature they're hunting is Badass with a capital B.

It was all sounding crazy to me. I watched as Kyle and Max argued with the agents as their camera and hard drives were confiscated. So why did your son become a wolf? Why was that his greatest fear?

Angelo pointed at me. For someone who isn't a reporter, you ask some good questions.

What makes you think I'm not a reporter?

You don't fit the mold, Angelo said. I'm guessing you're an arts student . . . maybe literature? You're not a journalist.

Close! I said, I'm a musician. Kyle asked me to help her out today. I need the money.

Angelo relaxed slightly at my answer. My son is a hunter and he was stalked by a wolf-like creature for two days last summer. He left me a note detailing what happened. I would've expected his greatest fear to be alligators or snakes; but being hunted by a wolf-like creature that appeared to be bulletproof would terrify anyone.

Wait, I said, closing my eyes as I tried to understand. You said they recover quickly. Are they bulletproof as well?

No, they're not, Angelo answered. They bleed and feel pain, but a few bullets won't stop them. They begin to heal the moment they're wounded. As best as I can tell, it only takes a few minutes.

I thought back to the victims and tried to picture what had happened. You think they collided with the werewolf, I said. They stopped the car and probably thought they'd killed whatever they'd hit. The creature started to recover and then turned on them and killed them. I opened my eyes. I didn't want to envision the bloodbath.

Don't tell the Agents this, Angelo said, but from what I saw, it looked like the passenger tried to get out of the car and check on what they'd hit. It was still dark and he couldn't be sure. He'd only taken a few steps when he realized it was a monster—a very angry monster that was bleeding, but beginning to recover. He ran back to the car and found his gun—

Wait, I said, I didn't see any gun.

I did. Angelo answered. It was only just visible under the body, but I knew there had to be a gun somewhere. There was no blood on the passenger door or any scratches. The beast must've begun to move around to look at him and he panicked and shot it at close range. He didn't dare to wind the window down before shooting. I saw the glass sprayed out all over the grass.

What about the driver? Why didn't he try to drive off?

Angelo grinned. Maybe you should be a reporter. I think he did. The beast turned and attacked him when he started the car again. It smashed his window and tore him to pieces. That's when the passenger decided to try to run for his life.

I shook my head. I'd thought Angelo was crazy, but it all made sense. I didn’t like the idea of agreeing with a madman. Two things were bugging me. You said you thought it was your son, I said, but you keep calling it the beast. If you've been searching for him since last year, how come he showed up now?

I heard a report of cattle losses two nights ago, Angelo said. I rushed up here to investigate. I'd expected him to hide out in the forest for a few days until after the full moon, but he must've know the agents were closing in and decided to move. That's when he got hit by the car.

I sighed with relief. So that part of the werewolf story is true, I said. They are drawn out by the full moon.

All our fears become more alive at night and the full moon makes everyone a little crazy. Those infected can try to hide, but they all seem to lose control during the full moon.

At least I have that part of the story right, I said.

I've investigated reports of zombies, huge snakes and vampires . . . even evil clowns that were produced by the curse, Angelo said. But only a few wolf-like creatures. Modern horror movies have a big influence on our fears. I call it the beast, because it's the full moon and my son has no control over the creature. My son didn't kill these men.

This all sounds too messed up and weird, I said, watching two of the agents making their way over to us. They didn't seem that interested in you until now. Do they know what you're doing?

Angelo pulled out a pocked sized bottle of whiskey and began to sip from it as the agents drew nearer. They think I'm just a crazy drunk. I've saved a few people infected with the curse from being captured. Now I just want to help my son.

So what happens now? I asked. What are those agents going to do?

They'll go through your phone and give you a phony story about national security. I wouldn't worry.

The two agents marched over and took our names and searched us. I had the option of letting them check my phone or having it confiscated, so I unlocked it and waited while they searched my files. After a twenty minute grilling the taller agent asked his final question.

So tell me in your own words, Liz. What do you think happened here?

They hit a wild animal and stopped to check on it. I didn't look too closely—it was pretty gruesome. They were attacked and killed by the animal, or maybe a few animals working in a pack.

The agent’s eyes bore into mine for a moment. He was a short haired, square jawed guy in his thirties with piercing blue eyes. He had the ability that many police also possessed. He could make me feel guilty even though I hadn't done