Animal Behavior and Other Tales of Lycanthropy (2 page)

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Jim awoke to a burning sensation in his hands. They itched.
What am I going to do? Do I leave town, or do I stick to the plan?

He looked around, trying to decipher his bearings. He wasn’t too far from the cemetery, but the sun was well past the horizon.
I don’t know if there’s enough time to put everything in its place and pretend nothing happened.
He looked down the long winding road and thought about how far he could get.
No! I have to try. I’ve worked too hard here.

When he arrived at Garden Row, the first order of business was to get dressed. His clothes were right where he left them in the tool shed. Once dressed, he grabbed his shovel and searched for Mr. Jackson. With no sign of the old man, he headed toward Mr. Moore’s plot.

Seeing everything just as he left it and no one around, Jim looked to the sky and mumbled, “Thank you.”

He dropped his shovel and hoisted Mr. Moore on to his shoulder, then carried him back to his casket. With the body in place, he walked over to the lid and carried that back too, placing it back in position the best he could.

“What are you doing?” asked a man in uniform. Jim squinted from the sting of the sun, but he made out the figure: it was Sheriff Williams.

Act cool.
“Just cleaning up after some vandals.”

“Well, I’ve just come from the station after hearing the damndest story.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really. I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the hole, sir.”

“All right.”

Jim climbed out of the grave and stepped aside. The sheriff jumped in, looked around, then opened the casket. The hinges were busted and Jim had only been able to lay it in place and not fix it; anyone could see it wasn’t closed properly. It fell to the side and leaned against the wall of dirt.

The sheriff said nothing upon seeing the teeth marks in Mr. Moore’s face. He turned toward Jim. “You weren’t going to report this?”

“I’m just doing my job.” He didn’t know what else to say. The thought of beating him to death with his shovel and burying him with Mr. Moore crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

“So you’ve done this before?” asked the sheriff as he climbed out of the grave.

Jim rubbed his fingertips into the palm of his hand. “No . . . I . . . . This kind of thing doesn’t happen around here.”

The sheriff turned back to the casket, then back to Jim. “What’s wrong with your hands?”

“They’re just a little itchy.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s the casket made of, fiberglass?”

Jim swallowed hard. “I . . . I’m not sure.”

“Save it. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to the station for questioning.”

“I meant no harm. I just wanted to save the family some grief. Think of what it’ll do to them. They’ve suffered enough.”

“I understand that, I can even respect it, but I have a sworn duty to protect the living. And from what I’ve heard and seen here, there is something extremely dangerous threatening my town. I didn’t want to believe the boy, he sounded crazy, but . . .”

“What did he tell you?”

The sheriff placed his hand over his gun. “We’ll talk about it at the station.”

“There’s no need for that. I won’t give you any trouble.”

“Glad to hear it. Let’s go.”

Jim sat in the back of the squad car and prayed for both strength and forgiveness. There was no denying he needed to get out of town, but where would he go? He finally had it made, but he survived before and he could do it again. He knew a small town like Madison, Virginia, would band together tonight and he couldn’t afford to go toe-to-toe with a lynch mob.
They would never survive. There’s always Europe. I hear their embalming practices leave much to be desired. The beast could have its fill of untainted meat. But first, I have to get through this.

“So, tell me about these kids. You sure they’re not the ones that dug up Mr. Moore? Some kind of initiation prank or something?”

“Whatever it was or is . . . these kids had nothing to do with it.”

“What were they doing in the cemetery?”

“They’re teenagers. What do you think they were doing?”

Should have known. Damn kids.
“Were they drinking?”

“After hearing their story the first thing I did was give them a breathalyzer. No, they’re on the up and up, which is more than I can say for you. You’ve got an awful lot of questions for someone who says he was just doing his job.”

Jim folded his arms across his chest and looked out the window.
He’s right. I’m acting guilty.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“No, Sheriff.”

The rest of the ride was done in silence and once they arrived at the station, Jim saw the maroon ’68 Dodge Charger parked outside. Sweat beaded on his brow as he took note of the long claw marks on the rear quarter.

“Look familiar?”

“Never seen it before.”

“Not the car, the marks. Same as that casket.”

“So I see. Some kind of large animal. Bear, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. Let’s go.”

He was pushed from behind and escorted in, then seated at one of the cluttered desks.

“Who’s this guy?” asked another uniformed officer.

“The caretaker of Garden Row. Call Ernie. Tell him to get his keister to the cemetery. I want an investigation before the scene is compromised any more than it has been.”

“How long do you think this’ll take?” Jim asked.

“As long as it takes.”

“Someone needs to inform my boss. Don’t want to lose my job over this.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”

“When can we go home?” Jim recognized the voice of the sex-crazed teenager.

“Why don’t the two of you come out here? I’ve brought the groundskeeper of the cemetery.”

The young couple stepped out of what looked like an interrogation room and took a seat across the desk from Jim.

“Do you recognize this man?” the sheriff asked them.

They both shook their heads.

Mike looked Jim in the eyes. “Did you see it, too?”

“No,” said Jim.
Forgive me, Father.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Mike said.

The girl still appeared to be in shock. She sat there; quiet, with Mike’s right arm tightly wrapped in her arms as she rocked back and forth.

“Sheriff, I really need to get her home.”

“Her parents are on their way. They should be here any minute.”

“I called Don Jackson. He’s on his way, too,” said the deputy.

“All right, then. Everyone just sit tight,” said the sheriff.

Jim looked to the clock.
A little after noon. Where did the day go?

“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” the sheriff asked.

“No, sir.”

“Keep an eye on him,” he said to his deputy. “I’m going to the john.”

I can’t believe how this day is flying by. I lost too much time this morning while my body healed. Worse, I have no preparations for tonight. Nothing to keep the beast occupied. If I don’t get out of here in time, the whole town is in jeopardy.

“There she is!” a hysterical woman said as she ran over to Amy.

Amy finally released Mike’s arm to embrace her mother. Mike pumped his hand several times; obviously the limb was going numb from her clutching so tightly.

“I’m not happy with the idea of what you two were up to, but thank you for keeping my little girl safe,” said Amy’s father, offering his hand, which Mike shook cautiously.

“When can we take her home?” her mother asked.

“The sheriff will be out momentarily. He’ll let you know.”

“Are you sure you saw what the sheriff says you did?” Amy’s father asked them.

“Yes,” Amy said.

“Yeah,” Mike said.

The man ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair. After a hundred years, Jim hadn’t come across anyone who believed the tale of the beast at face value. The rational mind was the main reason why he managed to live for so long.

“Where are your parents, Mike?” he asked. “Are they on their way?”

“No, sir,” Mike replied. “They don’t give a hoot about me.”

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Torres, I presume,” said the sheriff as he entered the room.

“I’d like to take these kids home,” said Amy’s father.

“And you may. I have all I need. Their statements have been taken, and Mike already knows he must leave his car here.”

“Thank you,” her father said. “Come on, guys.”

“Just remember,” the sheriff said as they started walking out the door, “not a word of this to anyone.”

They nodded and left.

At least they’re safe now
, Jim thought. “When are we going to get started?”

“All right, Jim. Now that they’re gone we can talk freely. Did you try to scare those kids out of the cemetery?”

“No, sir. I had no idea they were even there. I heard nothing.”

“Where were you last night?”

“I was in bed.”

“And you sleep at the mortuary?”

“Yes.”

“That would drive me crazy,” said the other uniformed officer who Jim thought to be a deputy.

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m crazy?”

“No one’s saying that. Those kids said they saw a werewolf. No mistaking it. Now—”

“Who’s crazy now?” Jim said, trying to throw them off.
I need to get out of here.

“As I was about to say, it was dark and shadows can play tricks on the mind, especially in a cemetery. There’s no denying that a large animal is behind this, but your behavior it’s . . . off. Why? What are you hiding?”

Jim looked the sheriff in the eye. “Nothing.”

“You obviously got fiberglass particles under your nails. Were you inspecting the claw marks in the lid?”

“Yes.”

“You know tampering with evidence is illegal, right?”

“Yes.”
Come on, just let me off with a warning.

The phone rang and the deputy answered. The deputy said nothing, only listened, then finally said, “I’ll tell him. You too. Bye.”

“Was that Ernie?” the sheriff asked.

“Yeah. He’s inspected the scene and is bringing samples back to the lab. He’ll call back as soon as he has something.”

“Any idea how long?”

“No,” the deputy said.

What kind of samples?
“You can’t keep me ’til you hear something. You know where I live.”

“You’re not going anywhere, so just chill out.”

Jim crossed his arms and waited. Forty-five minutes later, Mr. Jackson finally showed up.

“What took you so long?” Jim asked upon seeing him.

“I had to go out to the site and see for myself,” he said.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Jackson.”

Don sat beside Jim. “Please, call me Don.”

“All right, Don. Can you tell me if anything like this has happened before?”

“No, never.”

“Have you ever seen any animals large enough to do this in the outlying woods?”

“No.”

“And how long has this man been working for you?”

“Going on twelve years now, why? You don’t think, Jim, had anything to do with this, do you?”

“I can’t rule it out. He was caught reburying the body.”

Don looked to him. “Jim . . . why . . . you know the drill.”

He said nothing and Don nodded.

“We need a lawyer present.”

“That’s not necessary, Don. No charges have been filed yet,” said the sheriff.

Jim’s stomach growled for everyone to hear.
No surprise. Haven’t eaten since yesterday.

“Since we’re accommodating you by sticking around, how about some food for my friend here?” Don said.

“We can do that,” said the sheriff, then walked away toward the phone. “Pizza all right?”

“That’s fine,” Jim said.

“I can’t believe they think you did this,” Don whispered.

“It’s all right. I messed up.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here.”

It may be too late
, he thought, looking at the clock.
Quarter of two. Time’s running out. What am I going to do? I can’t let the beast hurt them.

“What’s wrong?” Don asked Jim.

Jim forced a smile. “Nothing.”

“You know you got the wrong guy,” Don said, looking toward the sheriff. “Jim volunteers at the soup kitchen every weekend and donates half his paycheck to the halfway house in Roanoke. He’s a kind-hearted man who wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

“Thank you, Don, but it’s not necessary.”

“To hell it’s not. It looks to me like they already have you pegged.”

For good reason
. Jim eyed the jail cell and wondered if it would hold the beast. Though it would expose him, it would be the only way to protect the innocent.

The phone rang and the deputy answered it. “Yeah. Hold on. Sheriff, it’s Ernie.”

Sheriff Williams picked up the phone on his desk and the deputy hung up his. “Go ahead.”

What’s he telling him? I should run. No. They’d gun me down and I’d wake up in the morgue as the beast. How many innocent lives would be lost then? Best bet is that cell. Pray they understand. Pray they believe I mean them no harm.

“Thank you for checking. Good work. Keep me posted.” The sheriff hung up.