A silver bullet might protect you from a werewolf, but you can’t take it on the plane.
I recently went on vacation to the Pacific coast.
This is my favorite vacation. Go to the ocean. Take pictures. Eat seafood until I start craving beef, come home.
The weather was perfect.
The food was great
I did wonder where all those people were going.
Flight day came. I’m meeting my daughter on the coast. I check in. Park my suitcase in the checked baggage and present myself to TSA.
Things proceed smoothly up to the xray of the carry-ons. A supervisor was called over. Two TSA agents peered intently at the screen. My purse exited the ramp into the screening area.
I waited patiently while the agent went through my purse. Frowned. Went through again and finally came up with my silver bullet.
It’s fake. I said.
Doesn’t matter, she said. No replicas allowed.
I wrote a story about a werewolf that won some awards and this is one. I am a horror movie dork. I said. And I’m sorry.
Can you call someone to pick it up for you?
Daughter was already on the coast.
I call her boyfriend at 5 AM – can you come to the airport? TSA won’t let me take my bullet on the plane.
What? He was out camping. Not at home.
No. I don’t have anyone.
Did you drive? You could walk it back out to your car.
YES! Oh no.
What now?
I put my car keys in my checked bag.
Well, there isn’t a line because I’m always insanely early and this is a small airport, so the Head of TSA Security walks me back to the Delta counter and asks them to let my retrieve my keys from my bag that hasn’t moved yet. Delta advises I should always keep my car keys with me.
Car keys and bullet in hand, and before I take the bullet out to the car, I thank the TSA agent for kindness and understanding and apologize one more time for being a horror movie dork. She says her grandkids like horror movies the best.
Me too.
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An old school Montana cop chases a murderer, who witnesses describe as a zombie
werewolf, into a Sci-Fi/Fantasy convention.
Wolf Con is a thriller script with horror movie and sci-fi tones.
Coop Stevens is a Forest Service Law Enforcement officer, one of those strong silent types. He gets a call that a zombie werewolf killed a man hunting in a wilderness area.
Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness is miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles of untouched vistas, granite peaks, wildflowers and who knows what else.
Coop’s boss saddles him with the state wolf expert – Muriel Jackson. Some folks can tread the line between commitment and zealotry. Muriel skidded past that and never looked back. This has estranged her from her son who happens to be Coop.
Together they ride into the Bob after the mysterious predator. Coop tracks something that leaves paw and boot prints. Muriel proclaims every step of the way that whatever it is, it’s not a wolf because wolves don’t do bad things.
Coop’s hot pursuit flushes suspect into a small town on the edge of the forest. A small town who’s new librarian, Noreen Tyfield, an ex-pat New Yorker, has arranged the town’s first ever Sci Fi Fantasy Convention.
This put her in direct and daily confrontation with the town Sheriff – Herb Baker, an older version of Coop who usually only has to hitch up his belt and scowl to keep order in his town. Now he has Klingons, fairy princesses, vampires and spacemen romping around, wearing down the nerves of his town folk who usually aren’t all that fond of outsiders anyway.
How would you tell a Klingon from a Zombie Werewolf?
Soon cosplayers report sightings of an epic Zombie Werewolf. Local citizens start turning up gutted, gory and dead, Coop and Herb join forces to track down the killer. Muriel begins to regret the choices she made that cost her her family. Noreen misses the bright lights, big city. Sheriff Herb wishes everyone would behave or go home. Z Wolf wants to find a way back to the Bob.
For the Cosplayers who wake up in a new dimension every day, it’s situation normal.
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