Beneath a Winter Moon (30 page)

Delmar didn’t answer. He merely sat in place, rifle pointed at the entrance and ready.

“There is no way he could still be alive,” Thomas said, letting his head fall into his hands as he sat with his back against Jenny, who still shook within the sleeping bag. “Not with that amount of…blood.” He tried to prevent a sob from forming in his throat, but he was unsuccessful, and it pushed forth loudly, surprising Delmar.

The big man stood up and looked down at his friend. “Thomas, he’s my friend too, but you need to get your head screwed on right.” He tapped Thomas on the head. “This is not over. That
thing
is still out there, and we are trapped
in here
. What if there is more than one? What if half a dozen of them come at us at once?” He tapped Thomas on his head again. “Murphy’s law, Hero. Murphy’s law. And we still have someone we have to protect.”

Thomas said nothing.

“I really don’t think I can sit here with you while you blubber away, Thomas. Steven was killed by this animal, Daniel is likely…dead…and Jenny is in shock.”

He walked halfway to the entrance and picked up the flashlight from the floor, moving it so that it was behind the group rather than ruining their night vision by being right in the path to the door. “We have six hours until daylight.
Six hours
, Thomas. We have one rifle and not much ammunition…”

Thomas suddenly lifted his head and looked at Delmar. “It had shackles on it.”

“What?”

“The animal…the… thing. It had shackles on its wrists.” He paused, waiting for a reply.

“Shackles as in prison shackles?

Thomas stood up. “Something like that. They were bigger, wider…thicker maybe.”

“What the fuck?”

“Someone had chained up that thing…which means someone has either caught it before or knows what it is and is responsible for it.”

“So, you got a good look at it? I never saw a thing.”

“It grabbed me by the throat and lifted me,” Thomas said, pulling away his torn Gore-Tex to expose the huge, bloody claw marks. “I saw a shackle with a piece of heavy chain still attached. Someone
had
that thing.”

Delmar looked into Thomas’s eyes. “You mean that you think that thing belongs to someone? For what? Like a pet?” He grimaced.

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s an experiment.”

“A fucking experiment gone wrong. What did it look like?”

“I swear to God, Delmar…you do not want me to answer that.”

Delmar thought for a minute, then rubbed his chin. “Yes, I do, Hero.”

Thomas looked up at his tall friend.
My only friend
, Thomas thought. “It looked like a cross between two animals. A bear and a wolf, maybe…or a gorilla and a wolf…or maybe a…”

“Don’t say man.”

“…
man
and a wolf,” Thomas finished.

“Jesus Christ,” Delmar muttered. “I told you not to say that.”

“And I told you that you didn’t want to know.”

Delmar grunted. “I was right about it walking upright?”

“And it has opposable thumbs.”

“No fucking way.”

“I saw them, Hero. Up close and personal.”

“No.”

“And claws like talons, an inch long.”

“But not like a man...”

“Men don’t have claws, Delmar. But other than that…yes…like a man.”

“You said maybe like a gorilla.”

Thomas sighed. “Maybe so…but last I checked they don’t have opposable thumbs. Some say that is what separates us from them, when all is said and done.”

Delmar turned away and stared at the entrance. “Just don’t use the word that I know you are thinking, alright, Hero?”

“Okay,” Thomas agreed. He stood up and put wood on the glowing embers. “We can’t chase it. Daniel can’t possibly have survived the blood loss…so we have to stay here, ready to defend this place.”

“If you will take your rifle, I will find mine. It’s out there, somewhere in that snow.”

“I’ll cover you, then, from the doorway. It came down from the cliff, so we need to watch it.”

“Be ready, then,” Delmar said as he walked out into the snow.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alan ran, naked, leaping over the damp, summer deadfall with ease as he attempted to best the monster behind him. His feet ached. They were torn and bloody and tears welled in his eyes and ran down his hot, dirty cheeks. He dared not look back, afraid to see the monstrous form, but then he didn’t have to, because the werewolf leapt over him to land directly in front of him. The monster’s arms were open wide, waiting. Alan screamed and tried to stop, but it was no use. Just as he reached the outstretched arms of the werewolf, the beast’s face changed into that of his father, bloody fangs remaining in the wide-open mouth that came down toward his face.

His body
spasmed
as he woke up and involuntarily cried out. He crammed a fist into his mouth, bit down, and then sobbed. Early before dawn, he had discovered a hole that might have once been the den of a small bear. He had fallen halfway into it after running for what seemed like hours. He had crawled inside and found that he fit, but with no room to spare. He had curled up into the fetal position and pulled deadfall and snow into the small opening until it was pitch black. He was covered in mud, drenched with melted snow and with sweat, and his body ached for relief.

He had slept through the day. He had not meant to…and could barely remember going to sleep at all. He had stayed silent, shaking with fear of the monsters, keeping the hole covered so that when the sun did come out, barely a ray made it into the wet, cold hole in the earth. He had awoke and saw that it was day, and knew he should get up and run back, but he was so tired and now that his adrenaline was gone, the pain from his wounds surfaced, leaving him in agony. So, he had gone back to sleep…
just for a little while
, he had told himself.
Until I’m more rested and there is less pain.

Now he woke to the darkness of night. The snowstorm had sealed his small hole, and he had to punch through it to gasp for fresher air. He had been in the hole for
so long
. But it was night, and he understood that the monster was a creature of the night and would probably lay in wait for him. At least his pain was now completely gone. He was hungry. He had quenched his thirst by cramming handfuls of the dirty snow into his dry mouth…but it did not satisfy the hunger. He felt a worm slither against an arm and he had a fleeting thought of consuming it, sucking it down his throat. The thought left, however, and he gagged. No, he would stay hungry,
at least until tomorrow
, he thought. Tomorrow he would rise from the hole and find his way back to the cabin where surely his rescue would be there waiting. He curled up tighter in the muddy hole, the earth pressing down on his shoulders and hips. He must go back to sleep until the morning. He must not lay awake in fear of the monster. He closed his eyes once more, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

When morning finally did come, Alan found that he was happy that he could not remember his dreams.
Today is the day
, he said silently as he stood outside his makeshift hole, wiping dirt and mud from his clothing and body.
I have survived and I will make it out of here.

He had only the torn clothes on his back and a pocketknife…and it would have to do. He had emerged from his muddy, snow-covered hole this morning, his second morning in hiding, to find the sun shining down on him and his wounds healed. He realized that he had been suffering a fever and blamed it for his inability to think straight these past nights or to get up and leave yesterday morning.

He had sweated profusely through those two long nights as he shared the wet hole with worms, centipedes, and other small creatures that crawled on him as he lay shivering. While laying in the darkness, Alan had tried to recall everything that had happened. His chest and shoulder wounds had stopped bleeding after the first day in the hole, and sealed by thick scabs. He had been amazed, then, that he had not bled to death from the deep tears in his flesh. Horrible nightmares came as he slept, terrifying beasts chasing him through the dreams, but each time he awoke he found that his memories of what had happened to him, of what had attacked him, were more distant and hazy. This morning, as he stood in the open forest, feet buried in the snow, he found that he could not recall what animal had attacked him and sent him flailing through the forest like a lunatic. He remembered some things clearly, up to the point where he, Seffert, and Jaffey waited inside the cabin, monitoring the radio. But he could force nothing to the surface of his mind beyond that…well, that and his blind run through the forest and his time in the hole. He remembered running all the way until it was almost dawn on that first night, hurt and bleeding and torn by brambles and thorns…but he could not remember what he ran from.

He had urinated twice while in the hole, accepting the smell and wetness of his own bodily fluids whereas he could not accept moving from his hiding place. Alan smelled the urine now, amazed at how pungent the odor was after so much time. He smelled other things, too. The moss on the trees, pine needles and bark still wet with snow. He thought he smelled other animals, though he had given that idea up. That was impossible.

 As he stood in the open forest, his feet buried in snow, and his senses more alert than ever before, he tried again to recall what animal had attacked and chased him. He could not. For him it seemed the more he tried to remember, the less he was able to recall. Although each foray into the events of that night failed to bring back memories of the attack, they did end up leaving him shaking with fear. Alan pulled off his torn jacket and pulled back the remnants of his bloodstained shirt to reveal his torn chest and the strange wounds on his neck and shoulder. He placed a hand across the thick scars that stood in place of the scabs from the day before. Spreading his fingers wide, he matched one with each long scar, noting that his hand was not quite wide enough to place each finger over the center.
It had to have been a bear
, he thought.
What else could make a wound like that?
He ran his fingers across the wounds on his neck and shoulder and knew without doubt that he felt healed teeth marks.
Definitely a bear. Must have been the same one that killed the horses and maybe Kyle, too.
He slipped the shirt back in place and zipped up the jacket.
Why can’t I remember?

He could easily tell which direction was south, and so he
trodded
off at a half jog. South had nowhere to lead but to the lake. If he found the lake, he could easily find the cabin. With the cabin came safety and a return to civilization. He hoped that the constable would understand about his running away. Thinking about O’Reilly jogged loose a memory. O’Reilly had taken off into the woods.
With Elmert and that man with the team of dogs
.
I wonder what happened and how come they didn’t track me down if they were out here somewhere.
The more he jogged through the snow…over deadwood and around thickets and past trees, knocking snow off the branches, as he couldn’t help but run into the tips of most of them, the more confident he became.
He didn’t know why he had no real fear of whatever it was attacking him in the daylight…he just wasn’t afraid. He didn’t even try to comprehend why he felt so good,
so alive
, or how those horrible wounds could have healed in just a couple of days.
I just have to survive
, he thought.
I just have to get back to the constable to tell him what happened and so that I can get back to Kathy. Jesus, she must be worried to death by now
.

Alan jogged through the snow for hours, sometimes falling into a deep snowdrift or into a hidden pile of twisted branches hidden by the snow. The obstacles didn’t slow him down much. He was in shape before all this happened, and now it seemed he was somehow in even better shape.
It must be adrenaline
, he told himself. Only when the wind returned and the sky began to turn gray again did he start to worry. He did not want to have to hole up somewhere again. He must be close to the lake, now. He vowed that he would keep moving until he was forced to stop.

He did not have to stop, though. Instead, just as the sun dimmed, overtaken by the clouds that now drifted above him, Alan saw wisps of black smoke and heard the familiar hum of a generator. He turned toward the smoke and the sound and he ran faster. The noise of the generator was loud, now.
I’ve made it
, he thought, as he pushed aside one last growth of bushes to reveal that he had indeed found his way back to the cabin.

* * * * *

 “How are you holding up?”

Delmar wondered if Thomas was referring to his cancer, and whether he was affected by it…but he let it pass. “I am one hundred percent, hero. Don’t worry about me.”

Thomas sensed his friend’s frustration. “I was talking about your ribs…and your shoulder.” Thomas had wrapped Delmar’s badly bruised ribs with all of the flexible cloth wrappings that they had. The wrap was usually used for a sprained ankle or a bad knee, so there was not enough to do the job well.

“Sorry. The ribs hurt, but they are okay. Just try not to make me laugh. As for the bite…well, it feels raw and this backpack isn’t helping, but it isn’t like I can complain,
all things considered
.”

Thomas nodded. “I know.” It was all he could think to say when faced with recalling the
all things
part of Delmar’s reply.

They trudged on, ever alert, through a very sparse area of the forest, where rock outcroppings were as normal as the trees. There was no more deadfall, just open, snow-covered ground and the occasional giant boulder or tree. Jenny and Jack walked side by side behind Delmar, who led the group and Thomas, who covered the area behind them.

“It should be a while before those clouds get here and when they do, maybe it won’t be bad. Maybe our rescue will come,” Thomas said.

“Let’s hope so,” Delmar replied looking to the northern horizon at the oncoming clouds.

They were headed for Jeremiah’s cabin, still, where Thomas hoped to find some answers. He was worried what those answers would be, but hoped for them nonetheless. Someone knew about the creature that attacked them. Someone knew and someone had a hand in either controlling the monster or in keeping it secure. Seeing that Jeremiah was the only person who lived out here, perhaps he would shed light on the situation. First and foremost, though, was to get to a radio and get off of this mountain. His heart ached at the thought of leaving Daniel’s body out here somewhere, but he promised himself that he would not leave this country until search parties had recovered the remains of their friend.

Delmar halted the companions when he felt that they were no more than three hundred meters from the cabin. He checked the map and then walked back to Thomas, who stood looking behind them, squinting in the sunlight to detect movement.

“We are close, now.” Thomas said. “I figure three hundred meters, maybe less, given our last pace-count and this terrain.”

Thomas nodded.

“How do you want to handle it when we get there?”

“I will just knock on the door,” Thomas said. “From there, I don’t know. We radio home, get a bird out here for Jenny...”

“And for us, Hero.”

“Only if we find Daniel’s body,” Thomas said. “I’m not leaving him.”

“They’re going to make us come with them, Thomas. Two men are dead. They aren’t going to just ask us a few questions over the radio and then leave us to go traipsing around, looking for a monster and our friend’s body.”

“Let’s just go,” Thomas said. “Let’s get there and get inside and radio civilization…if the guy even has a working radio.”

“He will,” Delmar said, then started walking again.

Jenny ignored their conversation but stayed behind Delmar. The shaking and spasms had finally stopped, and she could respond to Thomas and Delmar again, but she was far from okay. She would burst into a soft laughter, and then talk to thin air, usually mumbling something that neither man could understand. Once, Thomas thought she was talking to Steven, who, of course, was not there. Jack seemed to know that something was wrong with her, and even though he was leashed to Thomas’s belt, he stayed as close to her side as he could.
They just know
, Thomas had thought, seeing the dog nuzzle against Jenny’s hand as she walked between the two men.