Alright guys! My book is finally done! If you've been reading along, then thank you for sticking with it! If not, you can start with chapter 1
HERE
I hope you enjoy the rest of this. It's around 8,000 words, so longer than any post yet, but the chapters themselves are short.
Thanks for waiting. I know I told you the next book update would be the last one, and that was like 3 weeks ago... I'm sorry for the delay. You already know I've been dealing with some
serious bullshit.
anyway, no reason to keep you waiting any longer, here's the 4 part conclusion:
Chapter 19: Confessions and Incredulity
When
he was done with his tantrum, the room was a mess. Desks were pushed in every
direction. Chair legs were bent, papers were scattered. His desk was in pieces.
He
pawed through the wreckage and used one trembling hand to dial Emily.
To
voicemail. "Em. God. Good God, Em! I... I... Need to know you are ok. God-
FUCK! Call me. Please. For the love of Christ call me!" He sat there under
heavy silence, until the machine told him his time was up and asked him if he wanted to send his message or
record a new one.
He
hung up.
His
mind roved, he needed something to do. Someone to talk to.
He
called his house.
"Bill
Maria, how can I help you?" His father sounded rushed and a little bit
irritated.
"Dad?"
"Harold?
What's up? Why are you calling me, isn't class in session?"
"Dad,
I'm in ISS."
"Huh?"
"ISS
stands for In School Suspension." The mundane tone of their conversation
felt wrong in the utterly mad context of the day.
"I
know what it stands for, I mean why are you in ISS. Also, why are you calling
me, you hoping to get a longer ISS?"
"No.
No dad, the school is in lockdown. There was an attack."
"WHAT!?"
"There
was an attack! At school dad."
"Fuck.
Fuck. FUCK." Harold heard a fumbling, and then, "Call me back on my
cell, I'm hanging up the landline. Call me back right away!"
click
Harold
called back.
"Hello!?
Harold?!" He was panting into the phone, and Harold heard a door slam.
Then an engine rolling over.
"HAROLD!?"
"Yeah,
yeah Dad. I'm fine. I'm okay."
"Sweet
Jesus, I'm on my way."
"Dad,
calm down don't get in an accident. I'm okay. I'm... Shook up is all. And I
just need someone to talk to."
"Okay,
okay son. We'll talk. You're not hurt?"
"No
dad. No I think I..."
"What?"
"No
I'm not hurt. Just trying to make sense of what happened."
"Thank
God you're okay. What the fuck happened?"
"I
don't entirely know. I got assigned ISS because I threw my book bag at
Hanlon."
"You
what!?"
"I
know, it was stupid. I couldn't hold back though, he was kinda smearing Joe.
Told the whole class we were dumb."
"Jesus,
what a dick."
"Yeah,
but... I still don't really know why I lost it. Anyway, he marched me to
Marcy's office, and I got ISS. Hanlon was actually assigned to watch me around
lunch time. I started to fall asleep, and he said he was going to run to the
men's room. I fell asleep after he left, I don't really know what time it was.
Woke up shortly later, with the alarm blaring and the PA announcing a
lockdown."
He
looked around the mess that was A-27. "We're still locked down, and I'm
alone in this room, Hanlon never came back."
"Holy
shit, did he get attacked?" Then Harold heard a car horn, and his dad
shouting a bit farther from the mic, "Hey gas pedal's on the right,
idiot!" and a sharp rev on the engine.
"Um.
Yeah, I think he did. And I saw..." He swallowed and looked at the door
which was still latched. "Before I locked the door, I saw something in the
hall. One of the security guards was killed."
"Shit,
God. Was he shot? Was it a shooting?"
Harold
frowned. "I thought so at first, but I doubt I'd have slept through a
gunshot. And judging from... Well he looked really torn up. Looked more like an
animal attack. The amount of blood..."
"Hey,
Harold listen. We do not need to talk about that. You don't even need to think about that now."
"I
can't help but think about it dad. That... I'm pretty sure it was that fucking
thing that got Joe."
"Impossible.
It wouldn't be able to get in the school. Animals can't open doors, and they
sure as hell can't walk through security check points without being
noticed."
"Yeah
it could have come through the window, or even a loading door... But.... I
really don't think it was an animal. Not flesh and blood anyhow. I really...
Dad I'm worried that... I'm pretty sure..."
"It's
okay Harold. Tell me."
Harold
coughed. It was too hard to say- too insane to word. But he couldn't see any
other way. "It's a monster. A demon. And I'm pretty sure it's in me. Dad,
I'm a werewolf."
"No.
Don't be-"
"Ridiculous?
I wish I were, but I'm just being logical. Because you're right. There's no way
an animal could get this deep in the school. And I'm right, it couldn't have
been gunfire, or I'd have woken up."
"Then
some punk brought a knife to school and murdered a security guard, and your
teacher. You aren't a fucking werewolf..."
Harold
held back a grimace of tears.
His
dad stammered, "I... Look, I'm sorry Harold. I'm sorry all this happened,
but you are not a werewolf. You're my son."
Harold
wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I'm your son. But I'm also
that other thing."
"Harold,
listen to me. You can't even name that other thing again, because you know it is ridiculous. You are in shock. Hell
I'm in shock, and I wasn't even there. An animal made it in through an open
window. Or more likely: one of your classmates is a fucking animal in the head.
They'll catch whoever did this. You're school has security cams. They'll prove
me right."
Harold
started to sob. "Dad, they won't-- I'm a fucking werewolf, and-- I-- don't like saying it because it's-- terrifying.
I don't know how, but digging out that skull and-- removing the spear unleashed
something. And that something latched on to me. And it killed my-- best friend.
Used me to do it. Killed people in my school... And now, Emily is-- missing." He dropped his quivering
mouth into the palm of his free hand. Snot and drool ran down his face, and he
tried to dry it, but all he accomplished was a smear.
"Harold...
Oh, buddy. I'll be there in a second. I'm pulling into the parking lot now,
and- Shit! They aren't gonna let me through the doors. There's a crowd of
parents waiting outside. Reporters too. Fucking vultures."
Harold
trembled. "It's okay. Dad, it's okay. I'm going to confess."
His
dad's voice went stern, it must have been tough to manage over the phone, but
it came through strong and cut the haze from Harold's clouded thoughts:
"No. Absolutely not. You are not going to confess to something you did NOT
do. You are panicking. That's normal. That's fine. But you will not do anything
rash. Understand me?"
He
nodded.
"I
said, do you understand?"
"Yeah.
Yes Dad."
Then
his phone buzzed against his ear. He looked at the screen. "Dad, it's
Emily! She's okay! I wanna take her call, and see how she's doing."
"Okay.
Listen, I'll be right in the parking lot waiting. When they lift the lockdown,
you come straight to me. Okay?"
"Okay.
Bye dad. Thanks."
He
hung up, and slid to pick up her call. "Emily! Thank God you're
okay!"
Her
voice was raw, she'd been crying. "Harry. Oh, shit. Harry." She broke
into a stifled whimper.
"Oh
no, are you hurt?"
"No.
It didn't touch me."
"It?"
But he didn't need to ask because he knew what she'd describe.
"The
fucking monster that got Mr. Hanlon and Mr. Gordon."
"Who's
Mr. Gordon?"
"The
security guard. I didn't know his name before today, but I heard one of the
police officers say it. He was killed."
"Gordon
or Hanlon?"
He
heard her sniffle. "Gordon. Hanlon is... He's in bad shape Harold."
"How
do you know?"
"I
was wandering the halls in A section. I was trying to find you. I saw Hanlon
walking, and I hid in the bathroom. Then I heard the attack."
"Holy
shit. You were here? I'm in A-27!"
Her
whimpers broke into high pitched sobs, "Thank God you are alright, Harry!
Thank God!"
"Thank
God I'm alright? What about you Em? I spent the past fucking eternity wondering
if you were okay and thinking the worst."
"I'm
alright Harry. I'm okay."
But
she didn't sound okay. She sounded as broken as he felt. "Em, how do you
know Hanlon is in bad shape?"
"I...
I pulled him out of the hall way."
"During
the attack? Wha- are you crazy? You could have been hurt!"
"I
couldn't leave them out there alone Harry. I just... Couldn't."
"Emily
Green you're a fucking hero, you know that? And way better than me. I wouldn't
have risked it."
"You
don't know that Harry. In the moment you would have done the right thing."
"Em?"
"Yeah."
"Did
you see it? What did you mean when you said it was a monster that got
them?"
"I
saw it when I opened the door to grab Hanlon. I looked down the hall and saw it
while it was... Doing things to Gordon. He came to help and he got k-" Her
voice faltered, and he could practically see her tears.
"Jesus
Em. What was it?"
"It
was just what I said. I fucking monster!"
"Like
an animal?"
The
word hung between them, and he knew it before she said it. Knew it in his gut:
"Like a... Like a fucking werewolf
Harry. Like the kind of thing you'd see in a shitty movie."
He
picked up his drawing from the scraps on the floor, and as he listened his lips
fell numb.
"It
was tall. Dark. It looked like a man, had the posture of a man, and... Well it
was naked, and had all the anatomy of a man, except it was just off. Just off. Its arms were too long. It's
fingers were far too long. And too
sharp. It's head... it's face... It didn't have any flesh or fur up there. Just
a skull. Like a dirty skull. But definitely a wolf's skull, it looked just like
the one you and your dad found."
"Em."
His mouth was too dry to speak.
"Yeah
Harry?"
"Egh-"
He coughed and tried to lick his lips. All he could produce was a rasp, but it
was enough to get his point across. "Em, you gotta stay away from
me!"
"Huh?
Why? Are you trying to hurt me?"
"No!
No way Em! I'm not trying to hurt you, the opposite. Trying to make sure you
don't get hurt. You gotta stay far
away from me."
"I
don't understand. And if you can't give me a why, then fuck you."
He
looked down and saw how tightly he was gripping the edge of the new desk he'd
taken. His knuckles were boney white.
He
forced them to relax, and the color came back to them.
"Em,
I'm a damned werewolf."
There
was a long pause, and her voice was dry, curt, and utterly direct: "Don't
fuck around like that Harry, if you're trying to make a joke it's not funny. If
you're serious then, you have to see that's insane. You're not a werewolf. I
was with you most of the night that Joe... You didn't turn into a furry maniac,
so-"
"I'm
not fucking around Em. I'm not joking, and I'm not insane." His head swam
and he wondered about that last part. "I... All the pieces are adding up.
You saw a thing with a wolf's skull? Well I never saw it, but you know what? I
drew it. I fucking drew exactly what you said you saw. Weird thing is, I drew
it before I ever heard from you. Before I even knew if you were okay, I drew
that fucking thing. A tall naked guy with a wolf skull instead of a head. And I
hated it even while I drew it. And I hated it when it was done. I still hate
it!"
He
tore the picture he'd drawn in half, but it didn't help him feel any better. He
crumbled the halves and smashed them with his heel.
"Em,
I didn't change when you were over for the fire... But after you left I fell
asleep. And while I was sleeping, Joe got killed. My parents couldn't find me,
but they found my clothes. Then I woke up in the exact place they looked. And
now..." He looked at his own shirt, at his own hands.
"The
fucker never attacked last night, that's when I pulled an all-nighter. When
does it show up again? When I fell asleep! Where did it show up? In the very
hall outside the room where I fell asleep!"
"Harold
that's crazy."
"Is
it? IS IT!?"
Her
voice was weak... "I hope so."
"But
it isn't. Look Em, they're gonna see on the hall cams. They're gonna see me...
They'll see everything, and everyone will know the truth about me."
"Harold,
I already did see, it was a monster. It wasn't you."
"A
monster Em? Are you hearing yourself? You're saying I sound crazy for saying
I'm a monster... Well it's also crazy to say you saw one. Crazy doesn't equal
false, I believe what you saw, you need to believe me."
"Harry."
She was crying into the phone, and her voice was streaked with pain.
"Em,
you have to believe me. And you have
to stay away. I love you too much to let anything happen to you, I'd never
forgive myself if-"
"You
love me?"
"Emily."
"Is
that true? Seriously? We've only known each other for a week."
Harold
held the phone more gently. "Just because it's crazy doesn't mean it's not
true. I... Look at all your missed calls. When I couldn't get a hold of you, I
thought you- I thought... I was more broken than when I learned Joe died. And
he's been my best friend for years. Just please promise me- PROMISE me that
you'll stay away. I'll die if something happened to you, especially if that
something was me."
Her
voice heaved and he imagined she was wiping away tears. "Harry. Oh, God!
If you're serious... If you are a fucking- werewolf-
how do you expect me to leave you to that? Somebody needs to help you, somebody
needs to protect you from yourself. You can't do it alone."
"Emily,
I'm dangerous."
"You
love me Harry? Then you won't hurt me."
"Em!?
You don't believe me do you? It won't be me that does it, it'll be this fucking
bastard that's using me!"
"Harry
I... Look even if you turn into a fucking
werewolf, you'll still be in there Harry. Look if what you say is true, it
only strikes when you're sleeping, right? Well then let's just be careful. I
want to see you. I need... You can't sort this out alone."
----------------
Chapter 20: Sorting It Out
"Attention all students and faculty of Asbury
High School. The lockdown is being lifted at this time. Repeat, the lockdown is
being lifted at this time." Miss Marcy's voice was carefully subdued,
she sounded stressed.
"Em
I gotta go, there letting us out. I'll call you."
Harold heard an audible
cheer, not through the intercom but through the walls and doorways of the
school itself. But the PA continued, and the cheer was stifled as though it's
mouth were nailed shut.
"However,
we ask that everyone remain seated for
the duration of this announcement as there is important information that we
must share. It is with great sadness that we now report another tragedy. As
some of you have already guessed, there has been an attack here in our
school."
Harold had the room to
himself, but he began to feel claustrophobic.
"This attack has taken a second member of our
community and left a third in critical condition. Mr. Paul Hanlon was attacked
in the halls of A Section. Head Security, David Gordon responded bravely and
was consequently attacked. He did not survive his injuries. Hanlon remains in
critical condition, having been pulled to safety by the heroic efforts of one
of our own students, Miss Emily Green- who acted with utter courage. The rapid
response teams evacuated Mr. Hanlon to Green Fields Hospital, and the tactical
response teams have since cleared the school.
"No attacker was
apprehended. According to eye witness accounts, and preliminary police investigation,
this was another animal attack, likely the same unidentified animal that
fatally attacked our friend, senior classman Joe Jones.
"While the animal has not
yet been captured or killed, local law enforcement is one hundred percent
confident that it has escaped the confines of the school, and no longer a
threat to us here in the building. That said, it is important for all of us,
and the community at large, to observe some safety practices that may save your
life: Firstly, do not travel alone and minimize travel by foot. Students who
generally walk to school, we will be providing bus pickups until this issue is
resolved. Pickups will be at your address, as we do not want any students
waiting alone for pickup. In addition, all members of the community should
secure their residence, and places of business. Here at school, we'll be
keeping all the doors shut when not in use, and the ground floor windows shut
at all times, so this animal has no point of ingress. Lastly, if anyone sees
any sign of this unknown animal, we urge you to call local law enforcement and
make a report.
"Because of the nature of
the recent tragedies affecting our community, school is no longer in session
today. After the weekend, school will re-open, but attendance will not be
mandatory for the following week. However, we ask that any student wishing to
excuse themselves from class makes a call, daily, to the main office, for
security reasons. At this time, any student in sections B,C, and D wishing to
take the bus home make your way to the bus loop. Any student in sections B,C,
and D wishing to arrange for a ride, make your way to the cafeteria. The
cafeteria phone is available for external calls, if any student needs to call
their emergency contacts. Students in section A, please remain in your rooms
until you are escorted out. Thank you, for your patience and strength, dealing
with the lockdown and the aftermath of this tragedy."
Harold hoped to hear more. Expected to hear more.
But
there was nothing.
The
room felt over-filled with detail. He could see the grout between the wall
tiles, and it made him feel uncomfortable, almost in pain... as though the
rough grit were in his joints, and against his skin.
The
scattered papers. The shattered desk-top.
All
hyper-vivid, but the room didn't feel real. Or, maybe he didn't.
He
dragged his body out of his chair. He gained his feet, and took a step. Walking
reminded him of using a shitty old remote control car, where the signal gets
weak and the buttons don't really do what they're supposed to as fast as
they're supposed to.
But
he kept moving. He came to the door.
Why
did he feel so disjointed? Why did everything feel so focused, yet surreal?
It
was because from the moment he'd woken up and heard the first lockdown announcement,
reality had stopped being a thing he could rely on. He still trusted it- of
course. It couldn't be denied.
But
neither could it give him comfort. Because it was broken.
Or
rather, it was fucked.
He
was a werewolf. He wished that were a
question. He wanted it to still be impossible.
Harold
admitted to himself, that he had been terrified when he'd thought there'd been
a shooting- but it was worse now.
He
felt miserable for thinking it, but he wished it was a shooting.
If it
were a shooting then, at least, it wouldn't be him.
He did not look at the torn,
crumpled halves of his art assignment. But neither did he forget what they
looked like.
He
could see the creature, just beyond the shadow at the edge of his sight.
It
was waiting, it's face as blank as the wolf's skull, but it's posture and the
tilt of it's head showed him one thing:
eagerness.
The
thing wanted control again. And it would have it. It would have him, and
through him it would have whoever it wanted, the moment he fell asleep again.
He
put his hand on the door, and it hit him like an electric shock: through him. If he weren't alive, he
couldn't very well be a vessel for this... demon.
Harold
pulled the door open. He saw the blood.
The
police had put up vertical barriers, that went almost from floor to ceiling,
blocking off the section of the hall that previously (or maybe still) had
contained a corpse. There was another set up of dividers around the women's
restroom, which had once contained his girlfriend.
But
the blood spatter couldn't be hidden with a divider, it was on the lights. it
was on the ceiling. And the floor was a mess.
And
he remembered Marcy's announcement, asking students in Section A to remain in
their rooms until an escort arrived... Because the halls were filled with blood
and they probably had to... Had to what?
Clean
it? They couldn't clean a crime scene. Section it off?
Warn
everybody to keep their eyes to the floor?
He
felt light headed.
And
he could feel the wolf looming.
Maybe
they didn't want Section A to leave, because somebody in Section A was a
suspect.
Maybe
the cameras had seen him change! Maybe they were on their way to apprehend him.
His
should have welcomed the safety of a cell. A minute ago he had been
contemplating the safety of suicide. But an unwanted instinct kicked in: self
preservation.
Harold
stepped out into the hall.
His
pulse was quickening.
He
looked for the camera. And found it. Directly overhead.
It
was aiming down the length of hall, and he doubted it covered the doorway. So
it couldn't see him now.
He
moved farther out, and... What had they said? If we wanted rides, go the
cafeteria?
No,
he would not.
He
picked up the pace, away from the camera.
"Sir?"
He
spun so hard on his heel, he nearly fell over.
There
was a cop looking at him. He had been behind one of the barriers, he was
wearing gloves and had a forensic kit sealed in a bag. "Sir, we are
escorting all students out of this hall, there's still an ongoing investigation."
The
officer looked up the hall, in each direction and sighed, threw his gloves on
the ground before hitting the radio, "Command, This is Marcus, I've got a
kid up here at Scene A, can I escort him? Over."
"Negative,
the forensic team is en route, you need to be on hand to receive them. We'll
send someone to you. Over."
"Copy."
He looked at Harold, and shook his head. "Sorry kid, we've gotta wait.
You'll probably be more comfortable if you wait in that classroom."
"Not
a chance in hell." The words came out without his prior knowledge. And he
immediately regretted speaking so boldly to a man who was carrying a firearm.
But seemed unable to stop. "I know my way through the school, I don't need
an escort."
"Look,
they want you kids in this section to walk out with an officer. So you don't
impede the investigation, and so you have somebody nearby in case you... go
into shock or something."
"I'm
not gonna impede the fucking investigation, I just wanna get out of here and
make sure my girlfriend is okay!"
The
officer seemed to sympathize. He sighed again, "I can escort you past this
mess," He gestured at the dividers and the carnage they partially
concealed. "But, do you even know if your girlfriend went to the bus loop
or the cafeteria?"
"I
dunno. She was with you guys I think."
The
officer's eyes widened, "What's your girlfriend's name?"
"Emily
Green, she said she was trapped in the bathroom. She
was assessed by the first responders. They probably got her home by now."
"Well
my dad is in the side lot, he's waiting for me."
The
officer looked down the hall again, and sighed. "Alright, I'll just escort
you past this," he gestured broadly, "and you're good to get there on
your own right?"
Harold
nodded. So they didn't know it was him.
"Follow
me."
Harold
glanced once more at the camera, and figured it might have missed the action.
Either that, or they didn't view the logs yet.
The
officer led him around the crime scene barriers, "Try not to look, kid. The
thing that did this..."
Harold
didn't mind that the officer trailed off, he wasn't all that interested in
chatting.
They
made it past the second barrier, the one that blocked the view of the women's
restroom.
He
trembled at the thought, Emily! She had been so close to an evil thing.
Close
enough to hear it... probably to smell it. And she had been brave enough to
open the door and pull Hanlon to safety.
Would
he have done it? Would he have risked his own ass to save the utter ass-hat
that was Hanlon.
No,
he didn't think he'd be brave enough, nor compassionate enough.
He
would have let the wolf feast.
That
admission pained him, and he grimaced.
"Alright
kid, you're clear to head to the parking lot, I'm heading back before forensics
show up."
Harold
tensed up, at the thought of scientists testing the blood, the prints, and the
fur. What if they figured everything out.
Wouldn't
that be for the best anyway? Still he asked, "Was it definitely an animal?
Why forensics?"
The officer nodded. "Definitely
an animal. Forensics is gonna try to find out what kind, and we want to know
how and why. Stay safe kid. Buddy up, don't go wandering around alone. The
reason they want escorts is because we don't know where that animal is now. We
only know it's not in the school. We've got men searching the grounds, but
who's to say where it's gone. Do NOT go wandering around, straight to your
dad's car, got it?"
The
officer wanted him to be cautious, but Harold didn't need to be scared, at
least not for himself. "Thanks officer."
Still,
the only place he wanted to go was to the car. To his dad.
As he
turned away, he brought out his phone and called his father.
"Dad?
I'm on my way to the side lot."
` "Okay
son." His dad's voice was shaky, "I'm here Harold."
"Dad..."
He wanted to say the same things he'd said to Emily. He wanted to explain that
he was some kind of monster. But all he managed was: "I'll be out in a
minute."
And
then he was standing in the chilly autumn air.
His
dad was standing by the car and at their first sight of each other Harold saw the
worry melt out of his father's face.
The tension
around his eyes relaxed enough for tears slip free and he called with a choke,
"Harry!"
Harold
ran to his father and they drew each other into a trembling embrace.
"I
love you son."
"I
love you too dad."
"Thank
God you're alright. Thank God, thank God..."
And
Harold felt his father's chest heave. And he felt his own tears stream down his
face.
But
where his father was all relief, he was all anguish. A twisted knot of coiled
threat.
He
knew and hated the danger that loomed over his head, or within it.
And
the embrace grew uncomfortable.
He
pulled away. His dad squeezed his shoulders one last time and then wiped his
face with his hands.
Harold
had never seen his father cry before.
He
had done plenty himself, over the past few hours, but it was a different thing
entirely to see the tears fall from the one he admired most.
And
he hated the wolf. Hated it for everything. For killing Joe and his dog. For
killing the security guard. For tearing Hanlon's body. For trying to devour
Emily. For terrorizing his father. And he hated the false relief, the false
sense of safety that had loosed the flood gates on Bill Maria's emotions.
Because
the danger was not over. And Harold doubted it would ever be.
"Dad.
I wasn't kidding."
His
father's eyes were still wet and red. "Kidding?"
"Remember
what I said over the phone, I'm..."
Bill
Maria shook his head. "No Harold, not yet. I'll hear everything. I
promise. Once we're in the car."
So
they stifled their emotions and climbed into the car. The heat pumped out dry
air and washed the autumn weather off their clothes.
Harold
did not allow himself to hesitate. "I am a werewolf dad, I'm
certain."
He
looked at his dad, waiting for an answer.
His
father shook his head. "You understand Harold, that's a really tough idea
for me to grasp. But tell me why you'd come to that conclusion. I'll hear you
out."
And tensed
his soldiers and he laid it all out. Every attack, from Rufus to Hanlon happened
while he was asleep. His own location could not have been confirmed during any
of the attacks. And he was known to be missing when Joe was killed. And he had
drawn the beast, before he had known. And he had dreamed about the skull
gnawing on his body the night after they unearthed it. He ended with, "The
spear and the skull dad. That's some messed up shit. Like satanic or something.
Remember how I got scratched."
Harold
held up his finger at that, showing the delicate red line that was now mostly
healed.
His
father gave a nod- it was slight but it was still there. His face was grim, and
his lips drawn thin. "I'm not saying you're right. I admit the lines
connect, but the entire premise is built on stuff I simply do not believe. A
satanic wolf? Look. I'm not saying you're logic is broken, Harry. But I just
can't wrap my head around this being the answer."
"I
know it sounds fucking insane."
His
dad chuckled, and they both lost some of their tension. "Yeah, you're
fuckin' right! But- just for the sake of argument- if you really are po- Jesus
Christ! If you really are possessed by a
wolf, what do you suggest we do?"
"All
this shit started when we dug it up."
"The
skull." His dad nodded again, this time it was slightly more confident.
"And the spear."
"Then
what should we do, you want to rebury it? Those history nuts over at the
library will be kinda bummed out, won't they."
"Who
gives a fuck if they're bummed out. But, yes. I think we put the spear back in
the skull, and put the whole mess back in the dirt. Maybe read the Latin, for
good measure."
"You
know that guy from the museum called me while you were at school. He said he
thinks the other writing is Cherokee. When you called during the lockdown... I
should have told you. Or rather, I could have. But I didn't want to heap more
on your plate. But now that were talking about it in person, the guy said the
Cherokee writing, roughly translated, says 'wolf
spirit came for revenge and stayed for evil.' He thinks some superstitious
farmers had wolf trouble, around the time of the Civil War. Really it's all
just a guess, from a basement techie. But he said he thought one was Cherokee
and one was German. If I understood him right, he thought the German one killed
the wolf to protect his livestock, and the Cherokee told him that the wolf's
ghost would come back for revenge or something. The German got a priest
involved, and here we are."
Harold
slumped back in the passenger seat, and tried to process. "If they just
killed a regular old wolf, then... Why... So they did the ritual to stop a
regular wolf from coming back for revenge?"
His
dad just shrugged. "Only their best guess."
"Well
it didn't work."
Then
his father raised an eyebrow, and glanced at him. "If we assume your explanation
is on the money... Then it did work.
At least until it stopped working. When we dug it up, and tampered with it...
right?"
Harold
took his turn to shrug. "I dunno. God, what the hell? Either they caged a
demon and we let it loose, or... or maybe... Maybe it was just a fucking wolf,
and they conjured one up with all their magic mumbo jumbo."
Bill
Maria chuckled again, but it was forced, and neither of them felt an ounce of
humor. "So we'll bury it. And that'll fix it."
"And
if it doesn't fix it?"
"If
it doesn't fix it, then you'll just have to accept that you're not a goddamned
werewolf."
Harold
did not answer. He knew what he knew and there was no doubt in his mind- he was
afflicted. But he was not so sure that their plan would work. He was not so
sure... Because he did not believe that the ritual spear and the skewered skull
actually caged a vengeful wolf's spirit. He felt it in his bones.
It
had been a regular wolf that had been killed, and it was long dead. It had no
ghost, and no compulsion for revenge. The thing that came crawling up through
the dirt and decay was a devil. It had sniffed the remnants of their
superstition and their ritual... their fear.
It had come from somewhere else and sprang it's jaws shut, tight on him.
"Maybe
we get an exorcist?"
His
dad nodded, this time it was immediate. "Harold, I'm not buying into this
stuff but I want closure for you. If it will give you peace, we'll do it all. We'll
bury the skull this evening. We'll get an exorcist tomorrow morning."
------------------------------------------
Chapter 21: Can You Dig it? Part ll
When
they pulled into the driveway, Harold's mother came running out of the house.
She gave him no window of opportunity to exit the car- the second his door was
open, she practically climbed into the car and gave him a very sobby hug.
She
kissed his forehead and he felt like a little kid again- not to say he felt
bad. He felt cared for.
When
she finally spent all her tears and kisses, Harold's father gently tugged her
back, and Harold stood out of the car.
"Mom,
I'm..." He looked at his father, who gave him a very clear shake of the
head with wide and stern eyes. "I'm fine mom."
"Oh
God Harry, your father told me the school was in lockdown and he was going to
get you. I rushed home from work, and oh my God!" She started smothering
him with kisses once again. "Oh sweet Jesus, thank you Jesus."
He
hugged her back, and saw his dad's expression had relaxed again. When he
finally pried himself free of his mom's desperate embrace, she managed to say,
"Let's get you some food."
He
smiled, and it felt like it was the first time he'd ever made that particular
expression in his entire life. "Yeah mom, let's have dinner."
"It's
a little early to call it dinner, Harry."
"I
know, but this has been, literally, the longest day. I'm ready to eat and pass
out." He forgot himself and smiled.
She
practically ran back into the house, and Harold followed, until his dad grabbed
him by the arm. "Harold, your mother doesn't need to know the details. She
doesn't need to know the... gore of what you saw. And she doesn't need to know
what we talked about in the car. Don't stress her out more than she already
is."
"I
know dad."
And
they went in.
Dinner
was cold pizza, sourdough with olive oil, and some hastily chopped and fried
squash.
But
the food didn't matter. Harold was just happy to be home. The grinning devil
that stood on his shoulder didn't seem quite so real, or so threatening when he
was sitting at the table with his mom and dad.
And
happy wouldn't be the term- how could they be happy? Their neighborhood was
still rocking in sorrow, and now this- though they wouldn't have said they were
happy... they felt a glimmer of peace. A glimmer of rest. A bit of comfort.
Then
dad cleared the table.
When
the food disappeared, the feeling of peace popped like a bubble. His mother
leaned in, and asked, "Tell me everything, Harry. Get it off your
chest."
"I...
I can't talk about it right now mom. It's all too fresh."
She
winced.
"I
don't mean... Mom I'm not trying to hurt you. I'll tell you everything in time.
For now, can we just pretend things are normal? I'm here, I'm fine. Or, I will be. It's just a lot to
process."
"The
fastest way to process is to talk it out. Don't you trust me?"
A
mild nag of annoyance cramped the back of his neck. Sure it was kind of low of
him to sidestep his mom. But it wasn't so big of her to ply him for details.
"Mom, of course I trust you, but I'm not ready. relive any of that. All I
want is a bit of peace. Some distraction."
His
dad came back into the room. "And I have just the idea for that! While
it's still light out let's get some garden work done."
"Really
Bill? Gardening? At a time like this?"
"Yeah,
unless Harry doesn't want to."
"No,
mom it's fine. I love working in the garden, it'll be the perfect distraction.
You wanna garden mom?"
She
sighed.
And
they went outside.
They
laid the skull and spear beside the fire pit.
And
they dug.
It
was hard work- they lifted the coals. They undid the stone.
They
tore the gravel away in great tumbling shovelfuls.
They widened
the whole, they tore down into the earth.
And
they found the place.
When
they had pierced and scraped their way down far enough to return the artifacts.
They stood dirty and tired. When they stopped moving, they felt the chill of
the Fall evening air as it whisked away their sweat and sent goose-bumps up
their arms.
His
father leaned on his shovel, and nodded to Harold. "Ready?"
"There
wasn't much to say. He picked up the spear. And felt a pang of unease. He
wanted to be rid of it. He read aloud, "'Lupus daemonium, expulso est. Non repetiturum. Sit laus
Deo.' Then he drove the spear point through the
grinning skull.
Corners
of the bone screeched against the iron, like nails on slate.
He
grimaced.
The
iron rested at a point, but nothing felt right.
Harold
wanted the thing out of his hands. He wanted it buried and forgotten.
He
shoved it down into the crumbling dark. He felt the tip grind against the
deeper clay, and drove it down as hard as he could. His arm ached from the
effort and his body shook.
He
drew away from the hole, and clumsily dragged his shovel across the piled mound
of dirt. It trickled into the hole, but not nearly quick enough.
The
eyeless sockets of the skull glared up at him.
Harold
let out a little cry, and desperately strained to dump as much soil, his
movements became frantic.
He
felt a hand on his shoulder.
His
father eased him aside and did the shoveling himself, calm and confident.
The
skulls eyes winked shut, covered by lids of clay.
More
dirt fell into the hole. The spear was soon buried.
And
Harold forced himself to breath, willed himself to feel relief. But he was
acutely aware of the fact that nothing really felt any different.
They
worked to pile it all back in. Then they laid the gravel once again. And they
decided to re-line the stones tomorrow, because they were tired from the
physical and emotional strain.
His
father clapped him on the shoulder, and they put their shovels away. Then they
went inside.
Harold's
mom called from upstairs. "How was gardening?"
Harold
looked to his father.
His
father called back, "We did everything we needed to."
They
got cleaned up.
They
wished each other a good night.
But
Harold hesitated at the stairs. And he whispered,
"Dad, are we gonna
definitely get an exorcist tomorrow?"
"Absolutely.
I'll call the diocese first thing. I guess they'll know what to do from there."
"Okay."
Then
Harold made his way to his room. His bed called to him.
His
bones ached. His muscles were sore and tender. His brain was a knot of
pressure.
His
pillow looked soft, the blankets a luxury of comfort.
He
reached out and touched the pillow. It gave against his fingers, and he frowned
deep.
He
could not let himself sleep. He remained in his clothes for fear of getting to
comfy.
What
if he turned? Again?
What
if the ritual failed. What if he turned and attacked his parents- a sudden
dreadful thought split his mind like a lightning wedge... What if the ritual
failed because they got the wrong skull?
What
if the way to end the threat was to end himself, with the cursed- or blessed-
spear itself?
What
if it was the only thing that could end the danger- his danger- the madness?
He
imagined himself shedding the skin of his face, and revealing the wolfish snout
and fangs of the buried skull. He imagined himself bounding down the hall and
paying a visit to his parents. He imagined himself visiting their flesh and
their blood and their pain.
Harold
leapt to the door and locked it.
Then
he cursed himself for a damned fool. The lock wouldn't stop the beast.
"It's
gone. It's done. Dad and I buried it, I'm free."
But
his words were weak, and his ears knew it.
"Then
I won't fucking sleep."
But
his lids were heavy, and his limbs were dead weight.
He
clenched his jaw, and looked out the window. Peace outside, called him to just sit
on the bed. Just rest for a couple moments. Just lay down.
His
eyes drifted shut.
He
forced himself back up, and heaved the window open.
Stumbling,
half drunk with exhaustion, he stuck his face into the cool darkness- to wake
himself up. The freshness on his skin pricked him with a vague alertness, but
the overarching exhaustion still tugged at the rest of his body.
He
knew if he stayed in the house he would sleep. And he knew if he slept his
parents would die.
He
pulled himself through the window, and out onto the garage roof.
Cold
gripped his arms and legs, and shook the remnants of weariness off his body. He
caught his second wind.
Moving
on all fours, down the shingles he came to the edge and lowered himself to the
ground.
The
chilly air, nipped his fingers. He stuffed them into his pockets, and found his
phone.
A
line of texts from Emily:
"Hey Harry. Call when you get
home."
"Harry are
you ok?"
"Harry
please give me a call I want to talk."
And
the most recent one, only 15 minutes ago, "Harry, call me before you go to bed... Please I just want to hear your
voice."
Chapter 22: Young Love
He tapped her name, and heard the phone ring.
"Harry?!
Oh my God, thank you! I've been waiting for your call, what the hell
happened?"
A
wave of calm and comfort eased his beaten mind. "Jesus, Em it's fucking
great to hear your voice. Dad drove me home, and after dinner we... buried the
skull."
"Harry,
the werewolf thing, that's why you didn't call me?"
He
read her incredulity loud and clear. And he did not mind, because he wanted her
to be right. He so wanted reality to fix itself, and stick to the guidelines.
And her skepticism- and now, in retrospect- his father's- was a glimmer of the
old reality, the one he had taken for granted.
"No
Em, that's not why I didn't call. Or that's not the only reason. I just got
your text messages, and... Well. I pushed you out of my mind because I really
am serious- I'm dangerous. I did not want to-"
"Dangerous?!
I thought we talked about this Harry, you can't do it alone. We have to trust
each other. We have to trust love. You said you loved me Harry, and I know it's
true. It's early to say a thing like that, but I know you mean it because you
aren't a liar."
"I
do... I love you Emily."
"Then
trust me when I say, I know you wouldn't hurt me."
"Of
course I wouldn't. But, I also would never hurt Joe, that security guard. Or
even Hanlon. I fucking hated that guy, but I wouldn't have hurt him- and
Rufus-"
She
cut him off, "You wouldn't have hurt any of them and you didn't. It has to
be an animal."
"Em,
I'm positive it's not an animal. I know it's hard to believe I am what I say,
but I'm certain beyond any shadow of a doubt. I know it in my soul."
"Harry,
I know something in my soul too. If a monster like the one you insist you are
could not exist without the power of hate, and love always conquers hate. Why did you bury the skull?"
"To
end it. It started when we dug out the skull, so
putting it back in should have
undone everything. Or atleast bound the spirit, or devil, or whatever it is
back under the earth."
"But
you feel it didn't work?"
"What
gave me away, Em?"
"Mainly
your defeated tone. So if that didn't work, what will?"
He
thought of the spear, under the dirt. He was pretty sure if he dug it back out,
and used it in a ritual on himself, the problem would be solved. But he told
her, "I'm pretty much out of ideas."
"So
try love."
He
thought about digging, and new he did not have the energy, or will. He'd
certainly collapse under exhaustion and fall into sleep if he tried it.
"Love?
What do you mean, try love? I do love you, Em, what else am I supposed to
try?"
"Let
me see you Harry."
He
groaned. He remembered the feel of her cuddling in front of him by the bonfire.
He remembered the smell of her, how her scent had filled his senses with a
buzzing electricity.
"Em."
"Let
me see you Harry. I'm on my way over."
"On
your way? How. Your mom is driving you? She's okay with you being out this
late, when the news said there's a killer animal on the loose?"
"She
doesn't know I took the car."
He
smiled. "Emily, you are a fucking badass, you know that?"
"Yep.
Come to the driveway, I'll be there pretty soon."
He
couldn't help but smile. "I didn't even know you could drive, Em."
"Yeah,
I don't have a license yet, but that's just a technicality. Are you coming out
front?"
"I...
Em... This all feels so normal, you know?"
"What's
wrong with normal Harry?"
"Em,
I'm sorry. I can't."
"I'll
fucking ring your doorbell and wake the whole house up, if you don't get your
cute ass out front."
He
couldn't help but frown. "No Em. I can't risk it. Besides I'm not home. I
don't wanna turn and hurt my mom and dad."
"Harold,
what the fuck? Stop running away, let me see you. Besides, if you're worried
about falling asleep, I have a couple ideas... You know... ways to keep you
awake."
But
he missed the promise of passion because two words stuck in his mind 'running
away'. "Em, this is gonna have to be goodbye. I'm a monster. I need to get
far away from you and the other people I care about."
"Absolutely
not." He heard her voice crack, and knew she was starting to cry.
"Harry, you can't. You can't do this to me. I love you too."
It
was the first time she had said it. His heart cracked worse than her voice, and
he squeezed his temples.
"Em,
my God."
He
could hear the tears in her words, and it made his soul ache. "Harry, I
love you and you are NOT going to do this to me. You are not going to push me out.
This day... I need someone to talk to, just as bad as you do. I need someone to
hold. I need to be held. If you aren't by that fucking driveway when I pull up,
I'll break right in two."
But
he was already looping around the house. A calm resolve had settled over him,
and draped itself across his troubled mind. She was right about one thing. He
would never hurt her. And the only way the wolf would come over him was if he
fell asleep.
So
he would keep himself awake, it wouldn't be that hard. Love.
"I'll
be there Emily."
Her
sobs came through the phone. "Oh, God."
"I'll
be on the front porch Em."
She
sighed, "Like ten minutes. I can't wait to see you."
"Me too Em. Drive safe okay."
Then
they ended the call.
Harold
paced the front porch. He glanced at the time. 10:30 pm, but it felt like 4 am.
The
second wave he'd had was shredded rags by now.
He
forced his eyes open wide.
And
the cold felt less like a slap of wakefulness, and more like a heavy blanket
that quieted the twitches of anxiety.
But
he swore to himself: he would not sleep.
------------------
Emily
smiled. The feelings of anticipation warmed her even more than the car's heated
air. She luxuriated in the wonderful feeling of desire- not just physical
desire, but reciprocated want. Before
the start of senior year, she'd have never admitted to believing in such a
thing as soul mates. But Harold was perfect for her, through and through.
They
were meant to be. And they would...
She
wanted him. She wanted him in her life. In her days. She admired his mind. The
fact that he felt the same way was towards her and showed it was pure relief
and brightness.
She
pulled onto his street.
It
reminded her... She thought about the safety and acceptance she'd felt in his
arms, the night of the bonfire. That was the moment where she had known he was
hers and she was his. The feeling of his arms around her. She, wished for that
feeling once more.
Emily
longed for his breath on the back of her neck, and the feel of his chest rising
behind her.
She
pulled into his driveway.
She
let herself savor a slice of fantasy, of something else rising behind her, his
chest now heaving.
She
opened the door.
Emily
felt her pulse quicken, and caught her breath. She wanted him to touch her.
She
came around the car, walking through the gleam of the headlights. She saw him
on the porch, a shadow beyond the glare.
"Harold!"
She saw him coming down the walkway so she picked up her pace, and practically
skipped along to meet him. Her mind was a blur of drunken anticipation.
She
wanted his hands on her.
She
wanted his body on her.
She
wanted his mouth on her.
When
she moved beyond the lights, her eyes adjusted. She saw him, naked to the night-
his eyes like two deep and empty sockets, his mouth drawn in a crooked, jackal
grin. His face was hard and bone-white.
She
screamed, and stepped back. "Harry?!
HARRY!"
It
was true! Was it true?
Her
mind lashed out and told her to flee- instantly. But her heart... reached out
and tugged her back, ever so gently. She did not turn. She did not run for her
life. She hesitated. Her heart told her love conquers all, even hate.
She
tried to sound brave, but she was terrified. "Harry, I love you! This
isn't you Harry, you love me too!!!"
And
her mind was flooded with doubt. She could not stop her voice from shaking: "It's
me, Emily. Harry, please,
we're meant to be together!"
He
lunged forward, and brought her crashing down.
His
claws.
His
naked body on top of her.
His
teeth sinking into her flesh, spilling her blood which was still so warm with
desire.
THE END
Thanks for reading this. I wish I could say the ending left me satisfied. But it didn't.
And I can't fucking sleep.
