Village of the Full Moon Curse

by Daniel Griffin

  “I had the wolf right where I wanted him,” replied Buck jokingly, forcing out a slight chuckle, his body visibly shaking from the adrenaline rush and the pain he felt due to the attack. But also, he began feeling comforted by the presence of his cousin and best friend. “He got me really good, though. Bit me hard in my left thigh, and it hurts like hell!”

  “I better get you back to the clinic ASAP! That bite wound on your thigh looks nasty, and you’re bleeding. You could get a bad infection if the wound isn’t cleaned up soon. I’ll return back here with the truck and load up your caribou, after I drop you off there. I should load the wolf at the same time, too, so it can be taken to the clinic and tested to see if it were sick, since this is highly unusual behavior for a wolf. It didn’t even seem to flinch or care when I approached, like it had rabies or something! I’ll finish field dressing your caribou before I load him in the truck, and then take him to the meat cutter, and check up on you later,” said Ron.

  “I owe you dinner sometime, Ron. Sure glad and thankful that you came back when you did.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought, my friend. We’re family, we’re blood!”

  Buck threw his left arm around Ron’s shoulders, and he hopped one legged to the four-wheeler while Ron steadied him. They both quickly climbed on and sped off down the old dog musher’s trail, toward the clinic in Circa. Buck’s leg was throbbing with pain, and he was feeling extreme discomfort from every bump driven over on the trail.

  8:00 PM

  Later that evening, Ron drove his truck to the village clinic, parking near the front door, worried and anxious to hear the doctor’s test results on the dead wolf, as to whether or not rabies was the reason for its odd behavior. Suddenly, from the corner of his right eye, he spotted two people walking toward the clinic. One was a tall, long-haired, muscular man, holding a cane in his left hand and walking with a limp, and dressed in blue jeans, a thick, black T-shirt, which helped to display his large biceps, and brown hiking boots. The other was a beautiful young Athabascan Indian woman, wearing tight-fitting black jeans, white, high-heeled cowboy boots, and a blue jean jacket, who was clutching onto his right arm and her head resting on his rugged right shoulder as they moved slowly toward the clinic door. It was Buck and his gorgeous girlfriend whom he had been spending so much time with, Phyllis Duso. Ron hadn’t heard from Buck yet since he dropped him off at the clinic earlier in the afternoon.

  “Shouldn’t you be home resting your leg?” asked Ron with a chuckle.

  “I’m doing really well right now, dad,” replied Buck with a touch of sarcasm, humor, and wit. “The doctor gave me some Vicodin for my pain, and antibiotics in case of infection. And I also have to know myself what the deal with that wolf was.”

  Phyllis smiled at Ron. “I tried to persuade him to stay home also,” she said, “but he’s just a tad bit stubborn.”

  Her friendly smile melted Ron’s heart, making his legs and knees feel weak. Phyllis was, without a doubt, the most naturally beautiful young lady in the village of Circa, and maybe even in all the villages of Alaska combined. He would have gladly traded places with Buck at that very moment, wounded leg and all, even with the possibility of having rabies, just to have Phyllis at his side, clutching onto his arm instead. She had long, black hair extending down to her shoulder blades that always appeared soft and shiny with silky perfection, her skin having a light-brown, smooth complexion, an attractive, gorgeous face with light makeup and no impurities, and a twinkle in her seductive brown eyes, which often pierced through a man like cupid’s arrows. But she also always appeared to be friendly, humble, and happy, far from a snob, and often displaying her sparkling white, perfect teeth with her beautiful smile.

  And the perfume she wears is the best smell in the world, thought Ron. If her beauty and wonderful personality couldn’t win a man’s heart over quickly, her 5’4” and 105-pound, tight, petite, lithe body could! He was envious of Buck, as he cared for her deeply, but would never dare to admit it, for he knew that she loved Buck and that her heart belonged to him. They are perfect for each other, he often thought or said.

  They were all about to enter through the clinic door when Doctor Jones stepped out, locking the door behind him.

  “Looks like we caught you just in the nick of time,” said Buck.

  “Yes, but I’m sorry that we have to close down an hour early tonight,” replied Doctor Jones. “I recently received tragic news from the village of Hublick that the dead body of a fifteen-year-old girl was recently discovered 100 yards from the village, at the edge of a creek! The FBI called me from their Fairville office, asking if I would fly up there as soon as possible in my Cessna to do an autopsy on the poor girl.”

  Doctor Jones had been a medical doctor and surgeon for over thirty years in Fairville, but retired three years ago, after his wife of twenty-eight years, Judy, passed away from cancer. And now, he dedicated his remaining days flying to various villages throughout Alaska, offering his medical help and services to the clinics there. The FBI and state police also occasionally recruited him for help with autopsies and medical forensics in those villages, whenever the need arose.

  “I’m sorry about the girl. That’s very sad news!” said Phyllis. She, being only eighteen and at a very young age herself, thought how terrible it would have been to die at fifteen.

  Doctor Jones paused momentarily and began shaking his head. “I’m afraid I’ll have a very difficult job with this autopsy, if what the FBI told me over the phone were true. Reports are that the girl’s body was drained of all her blood, and that she had two puncture wounds on her neck. Who or what in Alaska would want or take all of her blood?! I’ve never heard of anything this disturbing in all my years in the medical profession, and it makes me suspicious of the possible involvement of an evil cult doing some sort of sadistic ritual!”

  Ron, Buck, and Phyllis stood silent, in shock and disbelief from the tragic news, unable to think of any comforting words to say.

  “I’m sorry to dump this tragic news on the three of you,” said the doctor. “Before I leave for my airplane, what can I quickly help you with? Is your leg okay, Buck?”

  “Yes, and amazingly, it’s starting to feel like it’s healing up fast! Those antibiotics must be powerful and fast working. We were all just wondering about the wolf, and whether it had rabies or some other disease. Did you find anything unusual?”

  “I’m afraid the wolf is a mystery case for me also. I inspected it two hours ago, from head to tail, did blood test, and couldn’t find anything wrong with the wolf, other than two weird puncture wounds on its lower back, just over its hips, as if it were bitten by some unknown animal, possibly a wolverine or weasel. The good news for you is that it didn’t have rabies, so that’s a positive. Just in case, though, I loaded the wolf in my airplane an hour ago, and plan to fly it, and possibly the Hublick girl’s body also, back to Fairville, where they have much better lab equipment, and I can get more confirmed results. My nurse will be here at the clinic, if your leg acts up again. She’ll be able to help you. I should be back in a week.”

  “Thanks, Doc. But I should be fine. Good luck and I will talk to you again after you return,” replied Buck.

  August 18, 2010, 11:30 PM

  Buck lay writhing on the peat moss forest floor in painful agony, not knowing what was currently happening to him. He had felt great since the time when he last saw Doctor Jones leaving the clinic, just a few days earlier, and the deep lacerations on his left thigh, which occurred from the wolf’s bite, had miraculously healed by the following morning and day. In fact, he had felt better during the past couple of days than he remembered feeling in a very long time, as if he were on some exciting new miracle drug.

  On this night, however, he now felt worse than he had ever remembered feeling in a very long time. He first began feeling agitated. Then there were the aches. And then he felt ill while watching TV an hour earlier at his cabin, and had rapidly declined since. He was now having the chills f
ollowed with hot flashes, as if he had a high body temperature of 120 degrees and felt as if he was burning up, causing him to sweat profusely. He figured that he had a bad fever, swallowed three tablets of ibuprofen, and went outside for a quick walk in the moonlight, hoping the fresh, cool night air would help, even if only a little. But instead, his condition worsened and regressed.

  The neuromuscular pain that soon followed, along with the muscle spasms, convulsions, small seizures, and intense stomach cramping he was now feeling and experiencing, were excruciating, causing him to nearly pass out from his intense pain, which also felt to Buck as if his painful condition were possibly ten times more agonizing than he imagined it might feel like if he were being devoured by an army of fire ants, or anything else he had experienced during his lifetime! His heart was now racing, pounding through his chest, and he felt as if the organs inside his body were wrenching or ripping apart! His bones slowly begun to snap, crack, break, and fracture, and his head, jaw, and teeth ached immensely from his body and skull slowly reforming itself into something unknown.

  After slumping down to the forest floor in pain, and now lying flat on his back in his helpless situation, he noticed the full moon shining down on him, like a huge floodlight, hovering in the night sky. His eyes were painfully sensitive to its bright light. The moon’s rays seemed to cut through him like a hot knife through butter. And then oddly and mysteriously, during a span of only five minutes, while he stared at the moon, the unbearable pain and anguish that he had been experiencing quickly began to diminish, and were slowly being replaced by new sensations: a feeling of great power, strength, agility—but also rage, as the moonlight and its rays seemed to be empowering him with a magic spell. Buck now felt as if a huge adrenaline rush, along with a combination of bipolar and hypomania mixed together, took control over him.

  He had never felt sensations and euphoria like this before in his lifetime. He was now feeling superhuman, and no one could stop him from doing whatever he wanted to do! He loved the feeling, but also now felt like he would have difficulty controlling it, unsure if he even wanted to control or stop it. Disturbing thoughts of violence begun to flood his mind, followed by overwhelming predatory instincts to hunt, stalk, chase, and ambush something or someone! The desires to bite, kill, and rip or tear apart a fleeing victim or prey, whether the victim were an animal or human, seemed to no longer make a difference with him, as his human emotions, conscience, and morality of right and wrong were now nearly nonexistent!

  His whole skull had now nearly completely reformed into a different shape, larger in size, from that of human into that of a horrific head and face of an animal, with sharp teeth, fangs, and different ears and nose. Along with his body, which was also changing, his new transformation was nearly complete, increasing in muscle mass, longer, animal-type hair, and lethal claws, quickly transforming into a very powerful, upright apex predator with animal instincts! A formidable, and potentially destructive, supernatural beast and brutal killing machine, that no-one would ever believe possible outside of nightmares! Terrifying sounds of chomping jaws and frightening growls echoed through the surrounding forest and night air like distant thunder, as Buck’s humanity was now being dominated and replaced with a new horrifying monstrosity! A werewolf!

  CHAPTER 1

  February 17, 2011

  Carl Grogan of Fairville, Alaska, drove his Dodge Ram 1500, standard cab, 4x4, with its hemi V-8 engine, into the driveway of the local truck stop named Webster’s for breakfast, with his good friend and passenger, Brian Griffith, who was also from Fairville, before beginning their 200-mile journey together, from Fairville to Circa, on a three-day hunting trip for caribou. Webster’s had a restaurant, store, and fuel pumps, making it a very popular public place for truck drivers, touring companies, and tourists, along with the general population of Fairville, a city with a diverse population of around 100,000 people. Circa’s population, on the other hand, was only around 300 people, and was comprised mostly of Athabascan Indians.

  Circa was a remote village, located at the very end of the Reese Highway, northeast of Fairville, and ended at Alaska’s largest river, the Yukon River. The Athabascan citizens who live there survive mainly on a subsistence lifestyle of harvesting berries and living off the land. This includes smoking and drying fish, like salmon caught from the Yukon River during the summer months; which helps preserve it for winter consumption, along with meat from various animals like moose, bear, caribou, and ptarmigan taken during the autumn and winter months. But other types of food, vegetables, and fruit, along with important and often necessary supplies, including medical and fuel, were usually transported to Circa via trucking companies, once a month if needed, or barged in on the Yukon River when accessible. Circa also had a small runway for small airplanes or helicopters to access if a medical emergency should arise.

  Fairville is Alaska’s second largest city, which is located in the central interior, approximately 400 miles north of the Pacific Ocean. It has all the modern facilities needed, like medical clinics, a hospital, malls, restaurants, churches, schools, an airport, and even a university, although one would only need to drive for ten minutes away from Fairville to find wilderness, if he or she preferred solitude. Fairville is a popular city for tourists in the summertime, when temperatures can climb as high as 90 degrees F on occasions, and daylight reaching up to twenty-four hours per day in June. But on the other extreme, it also considered a forbidden city in the wintertime, when temperatures can dip to –50 degrees F, and daylight as low as three hours per day, in December and January.

  It was Thursday, 4:30 AM, and Brian still felt subdued by his early morning drowsiness, and in anticipation of the hot cup of coffee that he desperately needed and craved.

  “I’m hungry and ready for a steak and egg breakfast,” said Carl. “I could eat a moose right now!”

  “I can tell. I’ve been hearing your stomach growling since the time we left your house fifteen minutes ago. Besides, you shouldn’t underestimate yourself, as you could probably eat two moose,” quipped Brian.

  “Yes, you’re probably right. I’m a growing boy, a very hard worker, and I sure could use the protein,” replied Carl, chuckling. “Certainly, much more is needed than if I had an easier job, like yours.”

  “I don’t know how anyone can eat such a large breakfast this early in the morning. If we get a caribou, I hope you don’t eat the whole thing down right there on the spot,” Brian said, smirking with his clever response.

  They were both taunting each other in jest, with provoking comments, as they walked into the restaurant.

  “Smoking or nonsmoking?” asked the waitress. “Oh, hello, Grizz,” she said to Carl when her eyes saw his familiar face and 5’11”, heavyset, burly, 250-pound rugged frame. She recognized him instantly, for Carl was a thirty-six-year-old fuel truck driver who went by the nickname Grizz for his CB handle, because of his large size and touch of grey hair on top of his dark, thick, curly-haired head. He frequently stopped at Webster’s for breakfast or lunch on a regular basis.

  “Hello, Wendy,” replied Carl. “We’ll take nonsmoking.”

  “And bring us a lot of coffee please,” said Brian.

  “Please follow me this way, guys.” The waitress guided them to a table in the back corner of the restaurant and seated them. “Would you like to order now, or do you need a few minutes?” she asked.

  Brian didn’t have a second to respond before Carl quickly replied, “I’ll take my usual, steak and egg breakfast, medium rare on the steak, home fries, wheat toast, and easy over on the eggs.”

  The waitress chuckled and asked, “Don’t you mean over easy on the eggs?”

  “He’s really hungry and ready to pass out,” said Brian, amused with his own saying. “Bring me the scrambled eggs and bacon breakfast, with hash browns and sourdough toast, please.”

  “Your coffee should be here in a minute and your food in ten minutes,” said Wendy as she walked away toward the kitchen with their orde
r.

  “I sure hope we didn’t forget anything and brought everything we need for our trip,” said Carl. “I’d hate to drive all the way to Circa and realize we’d forgotten several things. I’ve gone over our list a hundred times in my mind, from food, winter clothing, sleeping bags, and the tent, to our hunting knives, rifles, ammunition, the binoculars, matches, two five-gallon gas cans, and ibuprofen. Heck, I even checked the weather forecast, along with the road report, and it reported clear skies and good conditions for the next four days, with only a thirty percent chance of flurries on Hawk Summit, and temperatures not expected to dip lower than 35 degrees F.”

  “I’m sure we at least got all the important things anyways. Circa has a small store, which is decently stocked with supplies, if we ever get into a bind,” replied Brian, as he eagerly begun to sip on his hot coffee that quickly arrived at their table just seconds earlier.

  “That sounds good to me, Buzz,” said Carl to Brian, which was a nickname he had given him back when they first met, four years earlier. Brian, being a thirty-six-year-old professional pharmacist of eleven years, was working the evening when Carl showed up with a doctor’s prescription for twenty-five tablets of Percocet. The painkillers gave Carl euphoria and a buzz; hence, the nickname “Buzz” was given to Brian by Carl. The two of them began talking that Saturday night about hunting, fishing, and their families, quickly bonding and hitting it off, realizing they had very similar interests, were of the same age, both married, and had a lot in common with each other. The only things the two didn’t have in common with each other was their appearance, being different sizes and having much different hairstyles, as Brian, weighing only at 190 pounds, was much leaner for his 5’11” height than Carl, with his hair being a very short military style cut, and brown in color also, but with no grey hairs.