Wild Evolution
Published by C. Fern Cook for Smashwords
Copyright 2009 by C. Fern Cook
CHAPTER ONE
The gentle rustling of the wind passing through the treetops is shattered by violent barking and thunderous pounding. The thrashing pulsates through the walls and across the yard, making it sound as if the barn will collapse any minute. The piercing howls and yelps continue but the crushing blows have abruptly stopped.
Dan jumps out of bed; pulls on his jeans and grabs his 30/30 from the corner of his bedroom and runs out to see what is going on. He trips over his boots as he runs towards the stairs in the darkened house, causing him fall into the railing and stumble down the rest of the steps.
As he charges into the barn, he stops at the barn door to catch his breath. Bent over and leaning against the door frame, he scans the area to locate the cause of this disturbance. His attention immediately turns to his lifeless mare and her foal lying in a pool of their own blood. The blood is still seeping from their shredded throats; their heads are barely attached to their bodies. His eyes focus on what’s left of his two cow dogs; they are lying motionless with their necks in an unnatural position only a few feet away from the mare’s carcass.
A faint whimpering sound comes from behind the horse stall. Dan’s lead cow dog, Jake, is trying to drag himself under a pile of straw. He drops down to his knees to check out his comrade, leaving his rifle lying on the ground. Cradling his partner in his lap with his back next to the wall, he strokes Jake’s face softly while slowly rocking back and forth to comfort his friend.
Jake can no longer move his hind legs and lies in Dan’s lap, staring into his comrade’s eyes, begging Dan to fix what is wrong. Hot tears of anger flow down Dan’s face, making his stomach tighten like a rock as he tries to hold back his urge to scream. Sickened by the sight of all the blood and his partner lying on his lap dying, he leans back, refusing to believe his own eyes. He closes his eyes, his mind unable to take it all in as he tries to wish away the reality around him.
In the past, Dan has always been able to take care of whatever is wrong with his dogs; but this time there is nothing he can do to make it right. An occasional whimper is let out as life slips away from his four legged partner. Every whimper tears his heart a little more. He takes one last look, but it is too much for him to endure when he sees the fear in his defenseless friend’s eyes. He lays his hand over Jake’s eyes and turns away, waiting for this tragedy to be over.
An enormous growl breaks his mourning. He turns his head towards the sound and opens his eyes to see an astonishing sight: a blood soaked mutant canine is charging at him with only his dead dog between him and the massive teeth lunging at him.
Without thinking, Dan shoves his dead dog into the huge attacking jaws. In a blink of an eye, the attacker throws the dead carcass aside and wraps his teeth around Dan’s thigh, shaking the flesh vigorously, attempting to tear the limb off his body.
Reaching for any weapon possible, Dan fumbles with the equipment hanging on the wall above him. Grabbing a mountain climbing pick with both arms, he pulls the pick straight down between the shoulders of this attack machine. Within seconds he can feel the jaws release their grip on his thigh. He pushes the mutant canine off his bleeding leg. Dragging himself up to a standing position, he watches for any movement from his attacker, making sure it is dead.
Stunned by what has happened, he stares out the open barn door and at a shimmering full moon. As if nothing evil has happened, the heavens allow the moon to cast its brilliant light down on earth. The moonlight highlights the horrible scene he had just survived. Now standing at the doorway of the barn, he rages, screaming at the moon for letting this happen to him, screaming until he has no voice left.
Emotionally drained, Dan collapses into a kneeling position. Holding his head in his hands, he hides from the reality that is behind him. When he rises up, he is in an emotional void running only on instinct. Mechanically he goes back to his house to bandage his wound. When he returns to the barn he is carrying a meat saw and a cooler. Matter-of-factly he removes the head of the beast and tucks it inside the cooler so he can take it in to be tested for rabies in the morning.
It’s late and Dan is physically and emotionally exhausted from tonight’s event. Dragging himself back into the house, he drops onto the couch, belly side down. Too tired and still in shock, he doesn’t bother to clean up; his tattered, torn, and tired body falls into a comatose state of sleep.
When he awakens, the first thing he does is put the cooler in the back of his pick-up. Out of curiosity, he opens the cooler to check out his parcel.
“What!” Slamming the cooler lid shut in disbelief, he walks back to the front porch and plops down on the steps for a moment to regain his composure.
After a minute or so, he returns to his truck. Gradually he lifts the lid and peeks in. This time he grabs the head by its hair and pulls it out of the cooler to get a good look. This is no head of a mutant dog; this is the head of a full-grown man.
With the head of a human man still in his grip, he marches to the barn to see what has happened to the rest of the mad dog he had killed the night before. A headless corpse lies where the body of the killer dog should be. The corpse is completely naked except for a fur belt around the waist. He drops the head. It rolls away, coming to a stop against the body of his lifeless mare.
Dan pulls the pick from the back of the headless corpse and pushes on the shoulder with his boot to roll it over. The almost naked cadaver is spread out before his feet. The fur belt tied around the midsection of the headless corpse bewilders him. When he stoops down to feel the fur of the belt it causes shivers to storm through his body. All of his senses are excited by the touch of the fur belt. He pulls the belt off the dead man’s body with such great force that the entire body flips back over.
Stepping back to admire his prize, he trips over the detached head. As he leans down to pick up the head resting against his slain mare, his thoughts turn back to his innocent animals that had lost their lives the night before. Unable to comprehend why he has the body of human instead of a dog; he attempts to erase last evening’s events and turns his attention to burying the dead.
CHAPTER TWO
Before Dan commences with this dirty job he decides to hang onto the fur belt, throwing it over his shoulder for safekeeping. One at a time he drags the corpses out of the barn with a heavy log chain wrapped around their mid-section, pulling them with his tractor to a grove of aspen trees behind the barn. Each time he drags another dead body to the makeshift gravesite, he leaves another layer of blood and bits of flesh scattered across the rock-strewn terrain.
The cover provided by a stand of Colorado aspens makes a perfect place to do his dirty work, but the irony of the vibrant colors of the autumn leaves against the crisp blue sky makes a mockery of his dark chore this morning. As he rests against the tractor fender trying to formulate his next move, the peaceful scene of his cattle grazing carelessly beyond the seldom traveled dirt road gives him a moment of reprieve from his macabre task.
His neighbor’s pick-up truck barrels past on the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust billowing behind, ends his short break. Dan hurries to finish his work before the cool morning turns into the heat of the afternoon. He piles the carcasses into a single shallow grave, but before putting the head in with the rest of corpses, he gives it one long, last look. The sandy-brown-haired thirty-something male conjures up no memory for him. After dropping the head down in the middle of the pile of dead flesh, he gets back into the driver’s seat of his tractor to push the dirt back over the bodies. The dead bodies are tangled up together as the dirt is forced over the top of the shallow grave.
Even with the use of his heavy equipment, this morning’s workout has broken his wound wide open. Still running on animal instinct, he turns his thoughts to self-preservation. With no first aid supplies left in his first aid kit, he takes off his t-shirt and wraps it around the outside of his jeans to slow down the bleeding.
The shock load from what has happened to him since he went to bed last night has made him oblivious to his appearance. Even with his t-shirt tied across his thigh like a bandage, the blood still trickles down his leg. By the time he reaches Kremmling, one leg of his jeans is completely blood soaked and the flow of blood has oozed into his boot.
His boot squeaks with every step he takes, leaving a trail of bloody boot prints across the parking lot. Looking like a casualty of war as he enters the drugstore, he notices several customers standing in awe, obviously afraid to say anything to him. As he makes his way back to the first-aid aisle, the customers move out of his way.
At the checkout counter Frank, the owner, runs Dan’s items across the scanner. While Frank is bagging Dan’s supplies, his curiosity can’t take it anymore and he blurts out, “My God man, what happened?”
Dan sighs and takes a quick glance down at his clothes. Not realizing until now what a sight he is makes him blush. Leaning over the counter towards Frank, he answers in a soft voice, trying to avoid any further attention to himself. “Sorry. The way I look was the last thing on my mind. You won’t believe this, but a wild dog attacked me and my livestock last night.”
Frank hands Dan the bag of first-aid products. “Did you get the dog that caused it?”
“Yeah.” Dan slips his change in his front pocket. “I got it, but it got me first.” Dan continues to blush from such attention directed his way. “As you can see, it got in some pretty good licks too.”
Waiting in line behind Dan is his neighbor, Jack Donaldson, who revives an old argument. “You got what you deserved, dumbass. If you’d listen to me, you would have killed those wolves on site and they wouldn’t have attacked you because they would’ve already been dead.”
The loud blusterous voice coming from behind exposes the painful memory of his father. Just for a moment, Dan hears his father’s voice barking at him, ‘You dumb-ass, can’t you do anything right?’ Just for a spilt second he is nine years old again, and he ducks his head down and draws his shoulders in, ready for his dad to smack the back of his head.
Already on edge from the ordeal he had suffered from the deadly attack on his livestock, Dan’s anger overheats when the humiliation of his childhood is drudged up. Dan turns around and shoves the old man hard enough to make him stumble backward a few steps before he can catch his balance.
“Listen old man, I said it was a wild dog. If you would take your head out of your ass you might hear better. I’m not like you; I don’t kill everything that crosses my property. And another thing, I know it was you that shot my dog last year.” Dan squares off in front of Jack with his fists clenched, waiting for an excuse to deck his belligerent neighbor.
Jack stands with his mouth hanging open, sucking air. As a precaution he steps back, just out of Dan’s reach before responding to that acquisition. “If I did, it was because that animal didn’t belong on my property.”
Frank steps out from behind the counter to referee, positioning himself between Dan and Jack. “Come on. Let’s not let this get out of hand.” Frank turns to Dan, putting his hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t like you to be so hostile; I never heard you say a harsh word to anyone before.” Frank’s eyes focus on Dan’s wound. “You need to call the doc and have him look at that wound. You might need stitches. Just settle down and get that checked out. OK?”
Dan turns his back on Jack and heads for the door. “Thanks for caring, Frank. I’ll be OK.”
Dan takes his friend’s advice and stops by Dr. Jackson’s office. As soon as he steps inside the doctor’s office, the receptionist, Jessie, jumps up from her seat and yells, “Oh my God!” Running out from behind the counter into the lobby, she pulls out a wheelchair tucked away in the corner and rolls it up behind Dan.
Dan’s male ego balks at such treatment, and he raises his hand in protest. “Please, it just looks bad. I can walk.” Then he continues to amble towards the receptionist’s window, waiting for Jessie to return to her position behind the counter.
Once Jessie returns to her position, she greets Dan with a slightly red face. “Sorry, but you look awful. You should go to the hospital. What happened to you?”
“It looks worse than it is. A wild dog attacked me. As you can see, I was at the losing end of the fight for a while.” Dan leans against the counter; the day is beginning to take its toll and the loss of blood is making him woozy. “Is the doc available?”
“Of course, he is always available for emergencies. Have a seat. I’ll see if he can fit you in next.”
Sprawled out in the first available seat, Dan closes his eyes for a little rest. His wound is still oozing blood; the blood soaked jeans are leaking into the upholstery.
It is only a matter of minutes before Jessie returns to the patient lobby. Holding the door open for Dan and carrying his medical chart, she says, “Dan, come on back. Dr. Jackson will see you in just a few minutes.”
When he stands up, both of their eyes turn to the bloodstain left on the couch. “Come on, the Doctor is waiting.” Jessie waves her hand at the freshly stained couch. “Don’t worry about that. You just worry about getting better.”
Dan ambles towards Jessie, hunched over like an old man. Still feeling a little woozy, he grabs the doorpost to steady himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he stumbles through the doorway.
Dr. Jackson has Dan’s chart open and is scanning the notes Jessie wrote for him as Dan enters the examination room. “Haven’t seen you in a few years. Must have been before your dad passed away, the last time I saw you.”
“Probably.”
The doc sets the chart on the counter and scoots his stool closer to the examination table. “How’s your mom doing down in Arizona?”
“Great, I think she is going through a second childhood; her and Aunt Janet have been hitting the senior social scene pretty hard since she moved down to Phoenix.”
The first thing the doc tends to is cutting away the blood-soaked jeans to check on Dan’s wound. “Jessie said you got attacked by a dog. Is that right?”
Jessie slips through the door and takes her position next to Dr. Jackson’s side, ready to anticipate his every move.
Dan props himself up on his elbows to get a better view of what the doc is doing before he answers, “Yeah, I think it was a wild dog.”
Dr. Jackson pulls the old bandage off. Dan lies back down; the sharp pain from the doc pulling the old bandage off makes him lightheaded. Dr. Jackson continues, “Do you think it was rabid?” Jessie moves the side table within Dr. Jackson’s reach. She has laid out a suture pack for him and disposes of the blood-soaked bandage.
Dan gets back up on his elbows to sneak a peek at his wound. “No,” he says, scrunching up his face in awe when he gets a view of his swollen and torn flesh. “That’s beginning to look nasty.”
“I’ll give the medical opinions, if you don’t mind.” Dr. Jackson pours antiseptic over the wound. “But nasty is a pretty close description.”
Dan closes his eyes and clenches his teeth to keep from screaming. Dr. Jackson dabs the remaining antiseptic with a sterile piece of gauze. “Did you catch the dog that did this?” Jessie holds the wastebasket out for the doc to drop the spent gauze into.
“I killed it.” Dan yelps from the sting of the antiseptic.
“Good.” Dr. Jackson waits for the antiseptic to dry a little before he lays a clean piece of gauze over the wound. Opening a sterile packet of sutures, he continues, “Bring in the head of the animal so we can check it for rabies.”
“Can’t, I cremated the animal.” Lying to cover his tracks, Dan knows he couldn’t bring in the head of a human without being arrested for murder. No one would believe his story.
“Sorry to hear that.” Dr. Jackson injects the area around the wound with a local anesthetic.
“Hey!”
Dan yells. “Next time warn me if you’re going to stick me.” Dan
lies back down, not wanting to see the rest of what the doc is going
to do.
“Afraid we’ll have to start rabies shots immediately.”
CHAPTER THREE
The trauma Dan has endured in the last day and half has bubbled up through his dreams. A night of tossing and turning has left him as tired as he was when he went to bed the night before. Nevertheless, he is determined to get his life back on track. After a quick shower, he’s off to the County Seat Café for breakfast and daily gossip, knowing full well most of the gossip will be about him.
The drive in is a little slower than usual. Anticipating questions he can’t answer about his leg wound and the incident at the pharmacy only agitates him further. When he finally reaches town, the same old pick-ups are lined up in front of the café. Unable to decide if it is a good idea or not to stop by the café, he stalls for time by driving around the block one more time.
As he turns the corner, he encounters his long-time friend and county cop, Deputy Tony Ramirez, headed his way. Ramirez sticks his hand out the window to wave and taps the horn with the other. Dan waves back and plasters on a phony smile before pulling alongside the squad car to chat with him.
Ramirez flips on his overhead lights while he blocks the street in this one horse town. “Heard you got hit with a dog attack.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on back to the County Seat Café and I’ll buy breakfast, it’s my turn anyway.” Ramirez waits for a response. Dan nods the affirmative.
“Great, meet you there.” Ramirez doesn’t bother turning off the overheads until he pulls in front of the café. Dan makes a u-turn and parks in front of the café alongside the squad car.
Once inside, the patrons at the counter watch Dan hobble back to a booth. Jack Donaldson, still sore about the argument they had at the pharmacy, turns his back on Dan as he ambles by.
Arnie, the short order cook, watches Dan shuffle past while he pours himself a cup of coffee to take back to the kitchen. “Hey Dan, sorry to hear about your animals, especially Jake. I know Jake was your baby. It must be like losing a family member.”
Dan keeps his head down while shuffling back to a booth. “Thanks, man.”
Angela drops the menus on the table as Dan delicately slides into the seat across from Ramirez. To his surprise, that is the end of talk about his episode with the dog attack. The patrons at the counter turn their attention back to breakfast and resume their prior conversations. In the customary small-town fashion, they’ll patiently wait until Dan leaves before they embellish the story they had heard about him and his encounter with the wild dog.
Ramirez snickers at the way Dan delicately sits down. “That bad?”
“Yeah. That dog really done some damage.” Dan scans the room to see who is watching. “At least that dog won’t be killing any more livestock.”
“Hopefully that will put an end to those livestock losses we’ve been havin’ on this side of the county. I can finally mark all those ‘loss of property’ reports closed.” Ramirez watches the waitress head back their way with a coffee pot and turns up his cup in anticipation. “I’ll have the usual, and put Dan’s breakfast on my bill this time.”
Angela pours the coffee, “Wow, Tony. You buying someone else’s breakfast. Did you win the lottery or something?”
Ramirez only grimaces in response to her sarcastic comment. Angela turns her attention to the other side of the table. “Dan, you going to have some coffee today?”
The sight of Angela brightens up his morning. His libido is awakened by the smell of her perfume. “Come on, baby, you know I don’t drink coffee. Just lookin’ at you is all the stimulation I need.” His eyes move from top to bottom, slowly taking inventory of Angela’s assets.
“Whoa. Am I talking to Dan Tucker, the quiet, laid back sort-of-guy?” Angela turns a little red as she becomes aware of the way Dan is eyeing her.
“This is the new me. Life’s too short.” Dan’s face is all lit up with a devious smile, a far cry from his mood ten minutes ago. “Give me two soft scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice. OK babe?” He keeps watching Angela’s every move as she heads back to the kitchen to place their order.
“Umm … I thought you were having breakfast with me.” Ramirez waits for Dan to turn his attention back his way before continuing. “Ya remember when I told ya I was gonna use the radar to catch DUI’s?”
“Sure.” Dan is only giving his buddy the polite almost-paying-attention routine as his friend rambles on about something he has no interest in. Instead his attention is focused on the more entertaining venue of watching Angela as she goes about her waitress duties. Just to keep up the appearance of paying attention, he looks in his friend’s direction once in awhile as he rambles on.
Oblivious to his friend’s attention level, Ramirez continues. “Well, I caught hell from the sheriff. He said running radar is for State Patrol. We’re real cops. When I asked him what he had the radar for, he said it was to make the parents happy when he does that school crossing patrol at the beginning of every school year. Man, I’ll be glad when he retires. Maybe then we’ll get a real sheriff instead of a politician.”
“Ahha. So what else is news down at the sheriff’s office?”
“Not much. Hey, I was wondering, did you get to meet the new physical ed. teacher from Grand County High?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m supposed to do a missing person report on him, but no one knows much about him. From what I gathered so far he was kind of a loner.” Ramirez takes a sip of his coffee. “He hadn’t showed up for work the last couple of mornings. I got the landlord to let me into his apartment. Everything looks OK. As far as I know nothing seems to be missing from his apartment and his car is still parked in front of his apartment.”
“So?” Dan is still watching Angela make her rounds, smiling at her when she turns his way.
“This is all I was able to get on him: His name is Ivan Sokolov, he’s a white male, 6’2”, 190 pounds, sandy brown hair, brown eyes, muscular, and 32 years old. No family in the area and no contact information in case of an emergency. The only interesting thing about him is that he was born on Christmas Eve.”
Ramirez now has Dan’s full attention: that description fits the headless man he buried. “Yeah…” Dan abruptly draws in a deep breath, sucking his own saliva down his windpipe, causing him to rudely cough across the table when he tries to catch his breath.
Ramirez places his hand across his coffee cup while waiting for Dan to regain his composure and stop spraying the table when he coughs. Dan takes a sip of water to help clear his throat.
Ramirez asks, “You OK?”
Dan muffles one last cough with his hand across his mouth and mumbles. “I think so. Sorry, Tony, didn’t mean to spray you like that.”
The fact that the man he killed in a ‘kill or be killed’ fight actually had a name makes it painfully clear that a man has died, not merely a wild animal. Dan’s stomach starts to stir as his mind digests this bit of information. He begins to tap his spoon on the table unconscientiously while his mind recaps the events of the last few days. The visualization of the shallow grave not far from the roadway makes him worry that someone might spot the gravesite while driving by.
Putting on his best innocent face, he acts concerned. “So, what you gonna do next?”
Ramirez shrugs his shoulders, “I can only put him in the national computer as a missing person with the tag to contact the Grand County Sheriff’s Department if any law enforcement department comes in contact with him.” Staring at Dan’s compulsive tapping fingers, he adds, “Do you mind?”
“Sorry.” Dan stops his fidgeting just as Angela pushes through the swinging kitchen doors carrying a towel and a hot plate in each hand. The interruption is a welcome one. A smile idly turns up on his face as he watches her sway back and forth. With each step she takes towards him, his thoughts turn to pleasantly fantasizing about her sexual qualities.
Angela sets the plates down. “The plates are hot like always. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“How about goin’ out with me sometime?” Dan clutches her hand when she starts to turn away.
She reacts to Dan with a giggling smile and ignores Ramirez. “I meant about breakfast. But OK.”
“More coffee please!” Ramirez clinks his coffee cup with his fork. Dan and Angela laugh together at Ramirez’s antics.
“Sure, be right back.” Angela keeps smiling as she fetches the coffee pot and returns to their table.
After leaving the café, Dan can’t shake the thought of taking a human life. Why did he suddenly have a human corpse when he was sure he killed a wild dog? Unable to get a grasp on how this could have happened, he decides to find some answers and calm his imagination before it drives him insane.
Stopping by the library to gather information on wild dogs, he stumbles on a website about werewolves. Scrolling down the pages, he stops on a paragraph about a wolfskin belt. A belt made of wolf’s fur will give a werewolf powers to transform himself at will Then an eye-popping bit of information comes up on the screen. Werewolf by contamination will happen if one is bitten by a werewolf and saliva and blood are intermingled.
“Oh, Shit!”
The librarian strolls up behind him and shushes him.
Dan mouths, “Sorry”, at the librarian and then continues his research. Noticeable changes in personality may be: aggressive behavior, impatience, intolerance of others, and/or overactive libido. Scrolling further down, he comes across another shocking piece of information. The only sure way to kill a werewolf is beheading. Unable to take any more information, he closes the website and sits mindlessly gazing at the wall.
Several minutes pass before the librarian returns. Noticing Dan’s unusual behavior, she places her hand on his shoulder and gives a little shake. “You OK?”
Dan looks up and bashfully grins while nodding his head yes. Quietly as possible, he gathers his notes and leaves.
On the ride back to his ranch, the idea of someone discovering the shallow grave of the missing man consumes him. Still obsessing about it when he reaches his ranch, the first thing he does is start up his tractor and head back to the grove of aspens that shade the makeshift gravesite.
Gently removing the top layer of dirt with the backhoe reveals the pile of mangled corpses he had buried just a day and a half ago. The process of decomposition has begun, causing an infestation of maggots in the slightly bloated bodies. Stepping down from the tractor, Dan picks up a shovel to dig out the decapitated human body from the pile. While he stands next to the pile of dead bodies, ants stream across the top of his boots as they continue on their feeding frenzy from the mass grave.
Removing Jake’s body from the top of the heap vividly brings back the ‘kill or be killed’ battle. Tears trickle down his face as the night is replayed blow for blow in his mind. The shock begins to subside as the reality of losing his livestock and comrades sets in.
After removing Jake from the pile of decomposing bodies, the human head is exposed. Dan fetches a pair of work gloves from the tractor before grabbing the disgusting head with its sunken eyes and matted hair full of coagulated blood. Out of morbid curiosity, he pulls up one eyelid and scrunches his nose when he makes the grotesque discovery that the eyeball has withered and resembles a collapsed, shriveled little ball.
Lifting up the head to eye level for closer inspection; he still can not believe this is the wild animal he killed in self-defense. The scene of the ambush and the attacking jaws coming down on him are still fresh in his mind. This is not the head of that monstrous attacking dog that put him in a fight to the death.
Incriminating evidence is staring him in the face. There is no turning back now. Convinced no one would believe his story, he is compelled to move forward. He abruptly drops the head, realizing this would be considered evidence in his murder trial. Now more determined than ever to finish removing all the incriminating evidence from his property, he steps up the pace.
He wraps a log chain around the ankle of the corpse and pulls it out of the mass grave with the tractor, leaving a trial of coagulated blood behind. He pauses for a moment to take in the sight of the naked corpse with its bluish-green skin. The natural changes of the decaying body are gruesome and at the same time fascinating.
Moving on, it’s back to work as he drags the dry brush and fallen branches into a heap. Carefully he moves the body along with coagulated blood to the top of the burn pile. Before placing the head on top of the burn pile, he takes one long, last look; trying to imagine what kind of life this man could have had, but nothing comes to mind.
Returning to the business of erasing this crime scene, Dan douses the burn pile with a generous helping of kerosene. He sets it ablaze and steps back to watch the fire do his dirty work. At first, he finds the roaring fire arousing, but when the smell of the burnt, decaying flesh hits the air, it triggers a gag reflex. He turns from the sickening smell but eventually looks back again. As the fire begins to cook the muscles, it causes the arms and legs to curl up. When the skin splits across the torso and the intestines burst open and throw the putrid contents into the air, he steps back a little further. The popping sounds as the bones crack from the heat push him further back.
No matter where he moves, the smoke follows him as if it is punishing him for this gruesome deed. The smoke ignites the membranes of his nostrils and causes his eyes to water until all he can see is a blur of red and yellow flames. But he must stand watch over the inferno until all of the evidence of this transgression is diminished. When the fire begins to fade, he refuels it with another load of broken tree limbs that keep the flame burning until all the flesh is consumed in the fire.
When all that is left is a heap of smoking bones, Dan lets the fire burn itself down to smoking embers. He returns with a bucket of water and a burlap sack. After separating the bones from the ashes with a shovel, he pours the water across the remains to speed up the cooling process. While waiting for the bones to cool down, Dan goes inside to get a drink of water and soothe his burning throat. Sitting at the kitchen table, he watches the smoke dissipate from the rubble.
After his short break, he returns to his chore. The bones are still too hot to touch, so he slips on his leather work gloves to sack up the charred bones. With his problem in tow, he drives to one of the abandon mines that dot the mountainside. With a tire iron from his pick-up, he rips away the barricade at the mine entrance meant to keep people out. Then he crawls through the narrow opening in the mountainside, shining a light ahead of him and pulling the burlap sack behind him.
Going into the abandon mine as far as he feels is safe, he dumps the contents of the bag into a scrambled pile. The skull rolls away from the heap. He grabs the skull and places it on top of the heap before sitting next to it. Folding his hands into a prayer-like gesture, he looks upward and whispers, “Please forgive me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
These past few days have been emotionally draining for Dan. Realizing his headless corpse now has a name is a lot to accept. If that isn’t enough to stress him out, he now has to deal with the possibility that he may be cursed by something he has only thought of in the past as horror-movie nonsense. The folklore on werewolves is spellbinding. If any of the information he had stumbled on is true, his life has been changed forever.
As he sits in his usual booth waiting for Angela to take his breakfast order, he makes a conscientious effort to put the thoughts of the werewolf folklore out of mind and concentrate on putting his life back into its normal routine.
As Angela makes her rounds tending to her customers at the County Seat Café, he watches the way she sways when she moves from table to table to top off her customers’ coffee. Angela’s uniform is a little snug; the buttons on her blouse are pulled tight, accentuating the outline of her full-figure bra. The ruffles that border her white apron dance lightly as she goes about her business. When she returns to the kitchen, he watches her pony tail swing from side to side as it hangs down her back almost touching the apron bow tied at the top of her more than adequate hips.
Angela’s natural rhythm gives her hips a slight bounce as she glides across the room, putting him in a more pleasant frame of mind. Her natural cadence conjures up sexual desire and an urge to get to know her better.
When Angela makes it to his table to take his order, his thoughts are no longer on food, but on something a lot more arousing. Angela drops the menu on the table and sets down a glass of water. “What’s that funny grin about?”
“Nothin.’” Dan bites his lip and then takes a slow sip of water, trying to drum up a good comeback from the recesses of his mind. The best he can come up with is, “Can’t a guy smile without getting the third degree?” His wit falls short as the blood from his brain is diverted to another part of his body.
“Ahha. Sure, so what’s your order?” Angela stands poised to write down his order with her eyes purposefully avoiding his stare, all the while keeping her eyes focused on her order pad. Angela has seen this kind of look before. Being viewed as a sexual object comes with the territory of a waitress who’s single, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take.
As Angela goes about her duties as the dayshift waitress and dispenser of information in this Podunk little town, she keeps looking over her shoulder as if she can feel someone’s attention beaming on her back side. Whenever she turns his way, Dan is quick to look the other way. As his eyes follow her every move, he tries to come up with the perfect line that would be impossible to reject.
Finally when Angela makes her way back around to drop off the check, Dan asks, “How about me waiting on you for a change?”
Stunned by such an odd request, Angela breaks her stride while turning to attend to another customer. She stops and slowly turns back to Dan’s table. “What?”
“How about me bringing you something to eat?”
“Whattaya mean by that?”
“I thought I’d pick you up when you get off work, and we could head up to Grand Lake for a picnic. It’s such a beautiful day, with the aspens turning and everything. I’m not a bad guy you know; I won’t bite.”
Angela turns her head towards the kitchen when she hears Arnie pounding the pick-up bell. “I guess so. Sure, I got nothing special planned for tonight. If you don’t mind me wearing what I got on.” She hustles to gather up the dirty dishes in a pile.
“You look good to me just the way you are.”
His lustful glare gives her a twinge of fear at being alone with someone she has only known as a casual acquaintance up to now. Just for a moment she has second thoughts about agreeing to such an odd request; but Dan has always been such a quiet guy, always polite and always a gentleman whenever he comes in. “OK then. I get off at three. Gotta go, see you later.”
When three o’clock rolls around, Angela is sitting at the end of the counter watching out the window for Dan. Dan’s truck pulls up with his boat trailer hitched up behind it.
As Dan moves through the door, the first thing out of Angela’s mouth is. “What’d you bring a boat for? I thought we were going on a picnic.”
Dan stops dead in his tracks, realizing he had failed to ask her if she liked boating. “I brought a picnic basket; I thought we could eat on the lake. It is really very peaceful out on the lake.”
Just a bit miffed from having a picnic turn into a boat ride without warning, Angela’s voice goes up an octave. “I sure hope you don’t think I’m going to be cleaning any fish you catch.” Angela heads for the door with Dan following behind with his head hanging down, knowing he has gotten off on a bad foot.
On the drive up to the lake they are treated to a beautiful view. The aspens are in their glorious splendor of yellows, oranges, and all the hues in between for one last display of nature’s beauty before they hibernate for their long winter’s nap. Dan takes a quick peek at Angela to see if the drive has softened her mood since he surprised her with the boat ride. Her smiling face as she enjoys the view puts him at ease.
As soon as he backs the trailer to the water’s edge, he jumps out and runs around to the passenger side of the truck to hold the door open for her, hoping to salvage this first date by trying to be the perfect gentleman.
As Dan lowers his aluminum frame bass boat off the trailer and into the water’s edge, Angela reconsiders her judgment in accepting his offer for dining on the lake. She smiles politely at him, calming her impulse to back out of this outing. He offers his hand to help her into the boat and grips the bow of the boat steady it for her. She moves slowly as she climbs in, stopping cold whenever the boat begins to teeter. Finally she is able to take a seat on the center bench.
Dan climbs in and pulls the wooden paddle out from under one of the bench seats. “You ready?” She nods and holds onto the bench seat with both hands as he pushes the boat away from the shore with the wooden paddle.
As they float away from the shore, Dan pulls the rope on the troll motor several times before the gas engine kicks in. “This old motor always gives me a work out.” Angela displays a nervous smile in response as Dan guides the boat out to the center of the large glacier lake.
Dan cuts the engine when they get half way across the lake. “I just like to float out on the current and watch the world go by on the shore. Is that OK with you?”
“I guess so.” Angela buttons up her sweater. The breeze coming off the cold water from the glacier lake makes the air temperature cooler than at the shoreline. “Are you going to try some fishing?”
Dan moves to the center bench to sit next to Angela and puts his arm around her shoulder. “If you’re too cold, we can go back to shore.”
Angela shakes her head and whispers, “No.”
“I wasn’t planning on fishing; I just keep the gear in the boat. That is unless you want to.”
Again Angela shakes her head in a negative answer.
For the next few minutes they both sit quietly watching the traffic go by on the main road between Granby and Grand Lake, occasionally waving to their fellow boaters as they float by. When the lull in the conversation becomes too awkward, Dan pulls the picnic basket out from under the bow of the boat and places it on the bench seat. He takes out a large white towel and places it across the bench seat in front of them and then carefully unpacks the dinner items, arranging them on the bench seat. When he removes the tin foil from the large bowl holding cold fried chicken, Angela asks, “Did you cook that yourself?”
With a funny grin breaking out across his face, he answers, “If you count taking it from the freezer to the oven as cooking, then I cooked it.”
Angela laughs at his little joke as she picks a piece of chicken from the bowl. “Not bad, this is a nice change of pace. I’m not a fisherman myself. I haven’t been out on a boat since I was kid and Dad use to take us kids fishing. I never liked it. Too gross, all that slimy bait was too much to handle.”
Dan takes a handful of grapes from the basket and picks one to feed to Angela. “I never got a chance to try fishing until I was a teenager; it was another excuse to get away from the house. I like the solitude of sitting out on the water. It’s so quiet and peaceful out here.” Then he pops a grape in his mouth.
“Yeah, I remember how quiet and shy you use to be in school.”
“I didn’t think you noticed me.” Dan picks a drumstick out the bowl. “I use to have a crush on you back then.”
“Really, why didn’t you ask me out?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Dan starts to unwrap the dessert he brought; individually wrapped, mass produced chocolate cupcakes with a cream center. He hands one to Angela. She takes a bite and then sticks her finger into the center filling and places the cream filling on his nose.
Dan returns the favor, then slowly leans in for a kiss. Their kiss is interrupted by a jet boat zooming by. The waves following behind pitch their tiny boat to and fro, causing the picnic basket to fall off the bench seat.
Angela wraps her arms tightly around Dan, frightened from the sudden surge of waves against the tiny bass boat. “If you don’t mind, I am really not much of a water person. Can we go to shore?”
Dan immediately consents to Angela’s request and moves to the aft of the boat to start the troll motor. Not much is said until they arrive at Angela’s apartment. He escorts her to the door. Angela asks, “Did you want to come in for a minute?”
“I’d love to!” Dan follows her in. Once inside, he makes his move with a passionate kiss. When he takes the liberty of unbuttoning her sweater, she pushes away from his embrace.
Still red-faced from his fast hands and the sexual arousal he has stirred up in her, she runs her finger across his wet lips. “I have a simple rule. No sex on the first date.”
Dan stares at the floor searching for a way to rescue the moment. When he looks back up, he is all smiles and takes her hand to give it a soft kiss. “Well then, I think I better leave and start planning our second date.”
CHAPTER FIVE
When Dan gets home, he takes a minute to relax in his favorite recliner. That’s when the events of the last few days start to catch up with him. He drags himself up the stairs to the bedroom to hit the sack early for a change. Stripped down to his skivvies, he gets ready to hop in the shower and clean up after a long day.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he carefully pulls the tape off the bandage to check his wound. Unable to believe what he sees, he sits motionless on the edge of bed staring at what should be raw flesh bound together by blood-encrusted stitches; instead, he sees a dried, scaly scab ready to fall away from a new growth of skin.
He moves closer to the full length mirror to get a better look at his uncovered wound. His mind runs back through the events at the doctor’s office where he endured the painful scrubbing of his torn quad before the muscle mass was stitched back together. In disbelief of what he sees, he moves his finger across the top of the scab and then down the groove between his sculpted muscles that wrap around his femur.
A well defined muscle mass presents an intriguing reflection worth admiring as he stares at his new physique. As he tightens his leg muscle, the tendons around his knee joints are squeezed out along edges of his knee cap like vines entwined around a tree trunk. His new physique boosts his ego. He clasps his hands together and pulls them against each other, pumping up his forearms. He steps back to get a full view of his physique, posing like the Hulk until his veins pop out down the arch of his biceps. Envisioning himself posing for a Mr. Universe contests amuses the adolescent vestige of his male ego. During this sideshow, the wolfskin belt draped across the back of the chair catches his attention.
The folklore of the wolfskin belt and the werewolf legends rip through his thoughts. Now he finds himself standing in front of the dresser mirror stripped down naked except for the wolfskin belt tied around his hips. The wild sensations have completely revived him. No longer dead tired; he is ready for some adventure.
Testosterone and adrenaline course through his veins, awakening impulses he never knew existed in him. Primal urges pulsate feverously in his mind; images of tearing flesh and the taste of a fresh kill are vividly played out. As his fantasy progresses, it delights and scares him at the same time. Thoughts like this would have repulsed him only a few days ago.
Dan pulls off the wolfskin belt and hurls it into the corner. Now the need for calm turns him to the only drug in the house. Running down the stairs to the kitchen, he opens his only bottle of hard liquor and pours himself a double. With the desire to wash away tonight’s horror fantasy, he downs the drink in one swallow. He waits for the effects. Impatient, he pours another double. Dan takes the rest of the bottle and his glass up to his bedroom. The last two drinks begin to take their toll as he sits on the edge of the bed. He takes one last shot before stretching out across the bed to wait for the liquor to erase his vicious impulses.
Sleep comes quick, but it is not restful. The fantasies he wanted to hide from have slipped into his dreams. A violent night of tearing flesh and terrified victims play themselves out in his subconscious. The alarm breaks his nightmares, and he awakens feeling tired and not the least bit replenished.
As the new day wears on, Dan does his best to put last night’s ideas out of his mind. Catching up on chores, he cleans stalls, hauls hay out to the herd, makes sure the water trough is filled with cool, fresh water, and checks the fence line for breaks. After dinner he goes straight to bed, but the dreams from the night before run again. Relentlessly tossing and turning, he bolts straight up in bed. Fearful of his own imagination, he goes downstairs and sits in front of the TV, mindlessly watching anything that is on.
His mental numbness is broken by the untamed howls coming from wilderness of nearby Routt National Forest. The sounds of the wild captivate his imagination. Caught up in the moment, the next thing he knows he is standing in front of the mirror, wearing only his wolfskin belt. Feeling strangely drawn to the howls, he suffers a strong desire to howl back at the pack and act out the scenarios in his nightmares. He aches to prowl through the night as the primal creature from his dreams and bring down a fresh kill to feed on.
In the background, the faraway howls of the pack can still be heard. Turning his ear towards the open window, he listens to the distinctive calls of each of the members of the pack. Closing his eyes, he frees his imagination and sees himself running with the wolf pack.. Deep into his visualization, he feels his muscles twitch as he races to keep up. Slipping into a pack mentality, he howls back. Opening his eyes, he no longer sees himself in the reflection of the mirror but sees a creature that resembles the wolf hybrid that attacked him a few nights ago.
Allowing his fantasy to rule, he bolts out the bedroom window and follows the howls. He pursues the pack that runs through the wilderness near his ranch. Running hard until his lungs are painfully out of air, with each breath he takes his lungs feel like they are about to implode. Stopping to allow his lungs to replenish, he sits alongside a shallow stream.
With each deep breath, his exhausted body renews itself, and his awareness of the surroundings begins to return. The feeling that he is not alone comes over him, a suspicion he is about to be preyed upon. All around him he sees glowing eyes piercing through the darkness, staring him down as if he is about to become their next victim. Jolting into a fight or flight mode, he springs to his feet. Shadows dart about on the ridge above him. He watches the assembly of shadows as they scurry in between the trees encircling him from above.
When he hears the first low growl, Dan knows he has found the wolf pack. In a well planned attack, each member of the pack knows the whereabouts of the other. One by one they lunge at him, each wolf taking its hit while the others keep the prey distracted. A whirlwind of bold strikes continue to keep Dan encircled. As one jumps in from behind, another waits for its turn in the battle, but the pack is no match for Dan’s newfound strength. The pack wears down from the unexpectedly long battle. They stand their ground, holding onto their position as they continue to encircle Dan, keeping their prey captive for the moment. They soon realize Dan is no ordinary prey. When Dan stands on his hind legs and releases a long, low, growl, the pack does something they have never done before in a battle; they lie down on their backs in a submissive position exposing their vulnerable underside.
Instinctively, Dan comes down to all fours and begins inspecting his new pack. Sniffing each member of the pack, he gets an assessment of them as individuals before sitting down in the middle of the pack. In turn, each member of the pack hunkers down and crawls up to Dan, signaling submission to his authority. All the members of the pack have moved up to Dan in the humbled position except one.
The alpha male moves towards Dan, but he is not ready to give up his position in the pack. Slowly the alpha male creeps toward Dan with his ears laid back and his teeth bared. In one last attempt to hold onto his position, the alpha male charges Dan. The rest of the pack scatters, but not too far away. The outcome of this battle will affect all their lives, and they are compelled to stay and see the outcome.
Holding on with all his strength the alpha male has gained the upper hand by latching onto the back of Dan’s neck. Dan’s air flow is gravely restricted, throwing him into a panic mood. He begins to swing wildly to and fro to shake the attacker off his back. Looking like a giant rag doll attached to Dan’s back, the alpha male maintains his stranglehold as he swings from side to side in the fight for leadership.
Abruptly, Dan changes tactics and falls onto his back, landing in the middle of the stream. Lying on top of the alpha wolf, Dan feels the release of his jaws. The alpha male splashes frantically in the water under the weight of Dan’s body. Struggling to keep his head above the water, the alpha male tries to regain his balance.
Dan jumps up on all fours for another stand-off with the alpha male. Both in their dominance posturing stance with ears laid back and eyes locked onto their opponent, each is waiting for the other to make the first move. Then Dan lunges out at the alpha male with full view of his massive teeth aimed directly at his opponent’s throat. This is too much for the alpha male; panicking, he turns tail and flees into the darkness.
The rest of the pack waits for a signal from their new leader. Dan sits down among them, inviting them to show him their allegiance. The cue is not lost. The rest of the pack crawls up to Dan with their heads low to the ground, moving slowly and carefully up to their new leader of the pack.
With the new leadership in control, the pack embarks again on their nightly hunt. Dan takes his position as leader, flanked by his pack. Running in full trot as lead dog, Dan is flooded with a multi-layered sensual experience. His eyes dart from one shadow to the next; even as the wind moves the branches, he catches all of it in his peripheral vision. Every movement in the shadows is registered as he dashes by. The underbrush of the forest snags his fur, leaving tufts of his hair hanging in the thickets. The smells are too numerous to decipher, but one stands out from the rest. Focusing on that one scent, he follows the path laid down before him by his prey.
The rest of the pack becomes excited as they close in on the trail. The pack instinctively fans out as the scent grows stronger. Slowing down to keep on target, Dan alternates between galloping along with his head up to gather the scent in the wind and trotting every few feet with his nose close to the ground to soak up every bit of the scent from his prey.
Bolting out from under the brush, a deer streaks past Dan. Chasing after his victim, he stumbles over the fawn left behind. Dan slows down, letting the rest of the pack move ahead. Watching his new pack bring down the doe invigorates his senses. One grabs onto the doe’s hindquarter, slowing it down, while another from the pack clamps down on her throat. As a few in the pack hold her down in a vise-grip that cuts off her breathing, Dan knows it is just about over for the doe. Before long, her head falls limp from the death grip on her wind pipe. In a matter of seconds, the doe slips into unconsciousness and is fresh meat.