Red Moon Rising (22 page)

M
other red help

The moon won't help; it can't stop bullets. And I might not be able to hide from him
hunt enemy
Offense is defense
better hunter than enemy more quiet more fast more strong
He's human and he must be nervous
human weak slow
Get close
stalk stalking hunt
get up close and disarm him, disable him
faster than enemy quiet stalking
That should work. Go. Find him.

run

run

run

smell

whitehair
There he is
quiet low
He's facing the other way. Follow him.
hear him breathing hard heart beating fast
Flank him from behind
slow slow closer
Don't rush. Get closer
time to attack
no, not close enough.

attack run run
He's
raising the rifle. Go all out. Attack!

CRACK
bright flash from metal stick PAIN top of arm PAIN burns
I'm shot in the shoulder and he's backing away
enemy scared

howl again howl loud

He's taking aim again, hurry up and
run run to kill him

loud sound…burn in leg

enemy turns runs slow easy catch prey
He's running away! Just forget him
run to catch
Let him go and check that leg wound
kill him

run

fall
I
can't run on this leg
pain hurt stand fall
It's bleeding like crazy
pain white pain
Will my regen work if the bullet's still in there?
claw in hole dig pain hard inside
That's it, that's the bullet
pull out metal hold hole keep lifeblood in

tired rest rest

sleep fast…sl—

W
here am I? Somewhere outside. It's mostly dark, but I can see. It's probably just after sundown. Trees all around. Yeah, I'm in the woods—on my back in the leaves and dirt. I sit up and feel a dull ache in my thigh. No shirt. Whoa! That's a lot of hair on my chest. My forearms, too.

There are little black nubs sticking out from under the bases of my fingernails. And the tips of my fingers are caked with dried blood.

Wait, I remember now. The Change. I touch my face and it feels different. Some fur, sharper teeth, and—

There's a piercing shout from somewhere. It echoes in the woods, but I can tell it's not far and coming from the left. It's a person in pain.

“Please, please, help me.” It's Gunther.

And now I notice that it hasn't gotten darker out. It's gotten a tiny bit lighter. Which means this isn't dusk: it's dawn.

I have to get to shelter before the sun rises.

“Can anybody hear me?” It's him, and wherever he
is
is not where I want to be.

Wait: I know where I am. I'm in the nature preserve. Not sure exactly where, since I'm deep enough that I can't even see the fence. The sky is lightening a little bit on my right side, darker when I look left. West is to my right, and that's where home is.

And that sun is going to come up really fast.

I start running toward my house. The ache in my thigh throbs, but it's not bad enough to stop me. Small mammals dash away from me. I can hear them; I can hear their tiny racing heartbeats.

“Please! I'm going to die out here!” Gunther wails.

I stop. I don't know why he needs help, but he sounds desperate.

Damn it. He's even farther east, closer to the sunrise. If I go to him—toward the rising sun—we could
both
incinerate.

I start running again.

H
e's not really shouting for help so much as screaming hysterically. So it's easy to follow his voice. And there he is.

He's sprawled out on the ground, his left calf caught in the steel jaws of a bear trap. It probably crushed his shinbone. The lower half of his pants leg is soaked with blood. I can't help but notice the dark stain around the fly of his pants, but that one's not from blood.

His eyes go wide when he sees me. “What…are you?”

I grunt at him.

“I mean, what the hell? I can see it's you. The running pants. And your face is…but you don't look totally like a werewulf. You're not…”

I grunt again and start to turn away.

“You can't leave me here,” he shrieks. “Please! The sun is coming up.”

Look back his way. “Why would there be a bear trap in a nature preserve?” I say. But my mouth is all different on the inside, and I can't form words.

“I don't know what you said, but help me! Please.”

I point at the trap and then hold my hands palm up, like
what's going on
?

“I'll explain later. I'm begging you. I can't get this thing open.”

And now I remember. A hunting rifle next to him.
Metal stick…loud noise
. And the metal smiles with chains, those were bear traps. He got in here somehow, set traps, and then went hunting for me. Literally.

He tried to run away but got caught in one of his own traps. How's that for poetic justice?

So this guy tried to kill me, and now he wants me to
save
him?

Gunther whimpers, then says, “You have to stop staring at me. Please. Do something, like now, or I'm a roaster.”

I look down at the trap clamped tight on his leg. It looks very strong. I probably wouldn't be able to open it even if I wanted to.

“Okay,” he says. “I'll admit it. I tried to kill you. Or at least shoot you. I thought you were a moonrunner, and I was going to…Well, you
are
a moonrunner. But I don't care anymore. Really. It's not my business. Do whatever you want. I swear on my life, I won't tell a soul if you'll just please,
please
help me.”

Uh-huh. This specist informed on me to the LPCB, and he shot me with a rifle. Twice.

“Please. Please.” His eyes are pleading, desperate.

Damn it.

I still don't think I can open that trap, but I kneel down to look at it.

He whips his head from side to side. “It's getting hot. I'm starting to feel the sun. Do you feel it?”

I say
no
, but I'm not sure even the single word is clear, so I shake my head, too. And it's true: I don't feel anything. It's getting lighter, but the sun isn't high enough for direct rays to hit us, not yet. But it won't be long, and he's panicking.

I get my fingers between the jaws of the trap, right next to his leg, and pull to open them. They open just a little, maybe two inches. Not enough. And if they close again, this guy is going to die of agony. I can't get the jaws wider, but I don't want to let them go. I start trembling.

Gunther is moaning and writhing. “Look. Please. If you can't get me out, I'm begging you: shoot me. Take my hunting rifle and just shoot me. Don't let me burn to death.”

I can't hold it anymore. The trap starts to inch closed again.

Gunther screams, shrilly enough to set birds flying from the trees. And I pull those jaws with everything I've got. They're opening. I ease the open trap down over his foot, stand up, and yank my fingers clear as I shove the thing away from me. It makes a solid clang before hitting the ground.

Gunther is barely conscious. I check his leg, and lucky for him, his regen has stopped the bleeding. But the wound is bad, and I can see jagged shards of bone—too severe for the regen to close and heal.

We don't have time to deal with his injury now. The sun will come up in minutes, and we're way out in the woods. I get him upright and he groans. I pull his arm over my shoulder and start moving toward the house.

The sky is definitely getting lighter. I pick up the pace. At least moving through the woods going west—away from the rising sun—the trees will block the sunlight, buying us a few more minutes.

Gunther groans with every step, and he's not moving fast enough. Tiny patches of sunlight are coming through the trees. I can dodge the light, sticking to the shadows. But we're running out of time, and his bad leg is slowing us down.

He starts shouting, shrieking. I look and there are three small spots on his face that are smoking and turning black.

Sunlight.

We're going to die if we can't move faster.

I drop low and heave Gunther over my shoulders in a fireman's carry.

I can move almost at a full run. Definitely a fast jog. He's moaning and gasping, but I can't stop for that. I hear the sizzling sound as pinpoint beams of sunlight burn the side of his face. I duck my head, even though the sun somehow hasn't hit me yet.

I see the fence. We still have at least a hundred yards until we get to the spot where the fence is closest to my house. But then what will we do? Even if I could scramble up the fence fast enough to endure the shock, there's no way I'd be able to do it while carrying Gunther.

Wait. This can't be too far from where I saw him walking into the woods with his traps, gun, and tools.

I jog to the fence and start to run alongside it. If I haven't overshot, I should be able to find the place where he got in.

Shafts of light start to cut through the trees, and I look left and right to avoid running through them. Gunther cries out.

“Pull your coat over your head,” I say, or try to say. I pin his arm and leg across my chest and reach back to pull his coat up, giving him a little more cover.

The sun is getting higher. My face and arms start to feel warm, then hot.

Gunther is silent now. He must have passed out.

I stop running. There it is: a four-foot cut in the fence. There are wire cutters with insulated rubber handles on the ground on the other side of the fence. But however he pushed it open, the flap of fence has settled back now.

I can't squeeze through without getting shocked, especially with him as dead weight. I'm standing here, trying to figure it out, and then I hear sounds like bacon dropped on a hot skillet, as another shaft of sunlight catches his neck.

I put him down and curl him so there's no exposed skin.

I can see the corner of my house through the trees.

The sun is rising fast. And we're so close, but I don't know how to get us through. This space is going to be bathed in sunshine any minute. We can fry by electrocution or we can fry by sunlight.

I have an idea.

I pull the sneaker off his right foot and put my clawed hand inside, palm down, thumb toward the heel. I squeeze and bend the sneaker in half. It's like an oven mitt, but the thick rubber sole will insulate me from a thousand volts of fun coursing through the steel wire. I hope.

I bend the sneaker and hold it over the jaggedly-cut edge of the fence and squeeze to get a grip, tensed to be electrocuted. I clamp it closed.

Not even a tingle. I grip hard and pull it back, folding it up. I get it to hook onto itself. And now we have an exit.

Grabbing Gunther by the back of his jacket, I drag him to the opening and push him under. Once I'm through, I grab his wrists and pull them over my shoulders. I crouch, put my right shoulder against his stomach and bend him as I push up. He's hanging over my shoulder. He smells like burned steak.

It's maybe forty yards through the sun-dappled woods until I get to the edge where our lawn starts. There's my house, Sol-Blok shields already closed tight over the windows.

I've got twenty yards of blazing sunshine to cross before I can reach the shade at the back of the house. No other way.

I run.

I feel the sun on my neck, arms, and face. It's hot. The sunlight is directly on my skin.

In no time, I'm in the shade.

But the shade won't last.

I let Gunther down, and he lands with a thud. Oh, well. I pound on the back door, checking the sun creeping along the deck, getting closer and closer to me.

I bang on the door.

The videocam buzzes and rotates to face me. I hear Mom shouting inside. The door unlocks. I drag Gunther inside the outer Sol-Blok photoshield doors. They close them just as sunlight reaches the spot where we were standing.