The half-turned nodded and did as Darryl told him, seeming to enjoy the process. He measured, marked, and then began cutting. For using a handsaw, he cut the edge surprisingly straight.
“Damn, kid. That’s some good work.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not a kid.”
“You’re a kid compared to me.” Darryl grabbed the plank and began hammering it to the frame. “Cut six more pieces, the same length and we’ll call it a night.”
They faded as the darkness gave way to mid-day. Darryl was sitting on his lifeguard chair, watching over a crowd of swimmers while Austin hammered away, adding a railing and steps to the deck. I hadn’t known Austin was the one that built this, and he seemed content doing it, losing himself to the sounds of construction.
Day soon turned to evening, and Austin had disappeared, but the deck was finished. Darryl approached, climbing the sturdy steps while holding onto the railing.
“Damn,” he whispered to himself, cautiously padding across the newly built structure, feeling for any loose planks. He turned, looking out toward the ocean to see Austin lying near the water, partially obscured by one of the white sand dunes the beach was famous for. “The kid’s a little rough, but I think he’ll be okay.”
“Attention, mongrel squad!”
The sudden shift in scene made me jump, as Austin, now a full werewolf, stood rigid next to three other werewolves in a line as a human man in camouflage slowly paced in front of them. Despite the insult, the mood seemed unusually upbeat.
“Because of your excellent latrine-cleaning, you’ve all been officially promoted to…” The man paused, folding his arms. “Grout.” He pulled out four toothbrushes and slipped each into their pants pockets. “Make the country proud boys. Dismissed!”
The werewolves scampered out of the barracks, leaving a line of humans behind still at attention.
“The rest of you, hit the course!”
“Yes sir,” they all shouted in unison, filing out behind the werewolves. I phased through the soldiers, easily catching up to the others as they bantered, but Austin remained quiet, trailing them at a short distance.
“I think sergeant has the hots for you, Steve,” a shorter, brown werewolf said, jiggling the toothbrush in the light gray werewolf’s pocket. “Did you feel how slowly he slid it in?”
“I’m actually fucking him, but don’t tell anyone or we’ll be court-martialed.”
Austin quickly caught up, his ears pulled back and his eyes wide. “Are you dumb? That’s, like, six rules broken!”
The others howled with laughter, and the larger werewolf recoiled, falling behind the others again.
“I wonder what they’re gonna make us do next,” the brown werewolf said. “You remember last week when they had us prepare dinner after cleaning the toilets?”
“Sergeant was extra spicy that day,” Steve replied.
“I didn’t wash my hands, and I fondled all the Hawaiian rolls.”
The black and silver werewolf gagged, wrinkling his nose. He was about as tall as Austin, but a lot lankier.
“You fucking—” He gagged again. “I ate six of those, you piece of shit! I wondered why they were all squished.”
“Oh, come on, Randall. You’ve eaten worse things in survival training,” the brown werewolf replied. “Besides, we were the only ones that didn’t get sick. Everyone was puking and shitting everywhere. What a fun night. I bet they won’t let us touch any more food after that.”
“This is why they hate us, you know?” Austin pulled open the door to the communal showers. “And why we’re stuck scrubbing grout with toothbrushes instead of training.”
“We were scrubbing shit with toothbrushes before you got here,” the black werewolf said with a defeated sigh. “I keep thinking they’re saving us for something fun like tactical warfare, but it’s like they don’t have any use for us. We’re twenty soldiers in one, and they treat us like we’re army pets.”
“That’s kinda weird,” Steve said. He reminded me of a leaner and better-spoken version of Roscoe. “I didn’t even think they’d accept me because I didn’t have my GED. Who knows. Maybe they’re saving us for some super-secret mission. Did you hear about the werewolf sect of al Qaeda.”
“Wait, terrorist groups have werewolves?” Austin asked, his eyes widening.
“Yeah. They’re called al-Betas.”
Three of them snorted laughter, but Austin rolled his eyes and groaned.
“That was a good one.” Randall got down on his knees and began scrubbing furiously. “They probably do have werewolves, though. Someone like Austin wouldn’t hesitate to reach into their asses and pull out their colons. He’s the biggest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.”
