“May I help you?” asked a female voice from behind the counter on their left, which had an old cash register on top.
They turned their eyes away from surveying the inside of the store to glance in the direction of her voice, and saw a very beautiful teenage native lady, with long, shiny black hair, displaying a nervous, but friendly smile.
“Hi, and, yes, to your question,” replied Carl. “Do you happen to have any snowshoes for sale, or know of any snowmobiles to rent around here?”
“Um...I’m sorry, but we don’t sell any snowshoes, and I also don’t know of any rental snowmobiles here in Circa,” she replied. “We never get any outside visitors or tourists during the winter months, but only during the summertime, so we’re not really set up for that sort of thing. Most of the men from the village are gone for the week also; they went to Fairville and Anchor town with their families, and I’m not sure who to ask. I could call my good friend Ron really quick and ask him. He’s our village mechanic.”
“No, that’s okay. I think that we’ll survive without them,” replied Carl.
“But thank you anyway,” said Brian, quickly joining the conversation. “My name is Brian and this is my friend Carl. We’re from Fairville.”
“Hello, my name is Phyllis,” she said while flashing her beautiful smile. “Forgive me if I seem a little surprised by your presence. May I ask what brings you both to Circa, and will you be leaving before tonight?”
Interesting question, thought Brian before responding. “Actually, were planning on spending a few days around here to go caribou hunting, but we forgot our snowshoes and snowmobile. We’re not afraid to hike off the road a mile or two, though, if necessary. We want to set a tent up just a few miles out of town.”
“Oh...I’m not sure if that’s a very good idea right now,” replied Phyllis hesitantly. “Any chance I can persuade you both to come back in a week instead to hunt then? Most of the men will be back at that time, and I’m sure one of them could help guide you to the best area.”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Brian. “These are the only days off from work we’ll have in quite a while, so it’s now or never.”
“Can I at least persuade you both not to stay in your tent for the next few nights then? My uncle has a local bed and breakfast cottage that you could stay in. It’s been closed down for the winter, but I have the keys for it and can reopen it, and I will bring you anything that you might need. Please stay there tonight instead, and if so, promise me that you’ll lock the doors and shut the lights off at around 9:00 PM. And especially, don’t wander around outside during the night!” said Phyllis with alarm.
“Sounds tempting, but why is that?” asked Carl curiously.
“It won’t be safe out there for the next few nights,” implored Phyllis. “There have been wolf pack attacks on caribou and moose just a few miles out of Circa, and our mechanic, Ron, has had some recent close encounters with lone wolves wandering in near the village at night also. Please stay in Circa tonight, or go back to Fairville instead, please?”
Carl and Brian glanced at each other, astounded that this beautiful stranger from the village would be very concerned for the two of them and their safety. But they also wondered to themselves as to why she wanted them to lock their doors at the bed and breakfast, and turn the lights off at 9:00 PM.
“We’re big boys now, and we can take care of ourselves just fine,” responded Carl. “But thanks for your concern for us and for your generous offer. You’re a sweetheart for sure.”
Brian and Carl said good-bye to Phyllis, who had a very nervous and worried look on her face, as they left the store, en route away from Circa for a few miles to search for the perfect place to set up their tent and complete their hunting trip plans.
“What do you make out of that?” asked Carl to Brian with astonishment.
“I don’t know,” answered Brian. “I’m just as perplexed as you. She really seemed spooked about wolves or something, and didn’t want us coming out here for camping tonight.”
“Probably, she didn’t want us to shoot any of their caribou,” quipped Carl with a nervous chuckle.
“Let’s forget about it for now and concentrate on getting our camping site set up, and bagging ourselves a caribou. There are caribou tracks all over the roadside for the next twenty-five miles,” said Brian. “We could camp anywhere we want, and I want a bull with a head just like the one mounted in the store, with the huge antlers on it!”
They both laughed a little and began looking for a good place to set up camp as Carl drove along the Reese Highway, past black spruce trees, willow shrubs, and meadows for several miles, until they finally spotted a small side trail on their left side, surrounded by black spruce trees and appeared as if it would take them a decent distance off the main highway, if they were able to drive all the way through and to the end. The trail appeared as if it had been driven on sometime beforehand and previously packed down during the past month, but had since accumulated about five inches of new snow on top.
Carl locked his truck’s transaxles into four-wheel drive, and easily drove off the highway and down the bumpy, snow-covered trail, after both agreeing that it appeared as if it would lead to a potentially great hunting spot. They had only driven around a half mile when the trail finally ended at a place that they thought would be the perfect place to set up their campsite.
The place that they settled on was a huge, snow-covered meadow or clearing approximately 300 yards long and 300 yards wide, which gave them plenty of viewing distance for spotting caribou, and allowed for a fantastic shot with their identical 270 Winchester caliber, bolt-action rifles on any unfortunate caribou bull that happened to pass through. Carl parked his truck with its front grille and headlights facing toward the open meadow, or perpendicular to the Reese Highway, and shut the engine off before excitedly exclaiming, “Welcome to paradise! And I get first dibs or first shot at the first bull that we see!”
Brian slowly shook his head back and forth before bursting out in a small laugh. “That way, when you miss, I can follow up with my guaranteed lethal finishing shot!” he replied.
“I never miss!” Carl countered with a chuckle. “Where do you want to set up the tent?”
Brian took a quick glance around before suggesting that the spot ten yards to his right, and at the edge of the meadow, looked like a great place for a tent.
CHAPTER 4
10:00 PM
Brian and Carl sat on small folding lawn chairs in front of their tent, with both of them admiring the Aurora Borealis, which is often called the northern lights, enjoying its awesome, flashy display dancing high in the night’s clear sky, surrounded in the background by millions of glimmering stars and a very bright, rounded full moon, shining down on them through the chilly night air, after having just finished their cups of hot chocolate heated on a small propane stove to warm themselves. Both were beginning to feel fatigue creep into their tired, aching bodies after spending the majority of the day wading through the knee-deep fluffy snow in an unsuccessful search for caribou bulls. They had seen several female cow caribou wander through their campsite occasionally, but their hunting permits only allowed them to take a bull or male caribou.
Carl was beginning to regret forgetting his snowmobile, for they could have covered far more territory with much more ease had he not forgotten it. “I don’t want to whine, but I’m really tired, and I’m ready for my sleeping bag and a good night’s sleep,” he moaned. “Maybe tomorrow, we should try driving up and down the highway for fifteen miles each way instead. We could cover a lot more area and territory that way.”
“I considered that approach myself,” answered Brian. “We won’t wear ourselves out using that method, and it will increase our chances of seeing more caribou, I think. If we keep this slow pace up, by wading through the snow like this, we’ll...” He paused for a moment, midway through his sentence. “Listen, do you hear that small, rumbling noise?”
Carl sat quietly still, h
olding his breath and listening intently for any unusual sounds or noises, before hearing the rumbling noises also. “Yes, I do,” he answered. “Is that thunder?”
“No, not at this time of year. That sounds possibly like a large herd of animals with hooves coming toward our direction, like a stampede,” Brian said with dire concern.
They quickly stood up from their chairs, grabbed their rifles, and ran the ten-yard distance toward the safety of the truck. The fatigue that they both felt moments earlier became quickly replaced with adrenaline. Despite the knee-deep snow on the ground, the stampeding sound they heard from possibly a hundred or more hooves bearing down on them became increasingly louder. They each stood by the opened doors of the truck, ready to jump inside if necessary.
“Turn your truck’s headlights on so we can see a lot better!” exclaimed Brian vehemently to Carl.
Carl turned his truck’s ignition one click forward after inserting the key, so power from the battery would enable the high-beam headlights to come on, shining its powerful bright lights a great distance out into the open meadow. The two of them stared out into the meadow as far as their eyes could see, and as far as the headlights would enable them, in anticipation of the thunderous, stampeding sound that now sounded just seconds away. And then they came, one caribou after another, followed by many more, and many more after that, possibly a hundred or more, all running at full speed toward Circa, appearing briefly into the headlight’s illumination radius from the west, and quickly galloping out of the eastern side, disappearing into the darkness again, approximately 100 yards away, directly in front of their truck.
“What in God’s earth are they running from?” asked Carl aloud, and with alarm. “They’re running like they’re scared out of their minds! I wonder if they’re being chased by something, wolves’ maybe.”
The two of them stood behind the truck’s opened doors, their rifles in hand and ready to shoot, or they could jump inside the safety of the truck if need be. But they quickly began thinking that they had finally watched the last caribou pass by after the rumbling, stampeding noise of the herd begun to dissipate and grow quiet. Yet instead, they saw another caribou appearing again, straggling into the light, running much slower and quickly falling behind now after being separated from the rest of the herd. And then suddenly, to their dismay, appearing from nowhere and into the light also, in extremely fast pursuit of the herd and straggling weaker caribou, Carl and Buck saw the caribou herd’s tormentor, and why they had been stampeding and fleeing with tremendous fright—a sight that nearly left them both speechless in shocked disbelief. A tall and upright-standing, frightening, brown, hairy, muscular beast, running with phenomenal speed, and in just two long strides, leaped onto the back of the last straggling caribou from at least ten yards behind, quickly biting into the back of its neck with extreme force, breaking its neck and killing it instantly with its powerful jaws.
“What in the hell is that?!” asked Carl with serious fright and alarm. He was not a man who was easily intimidated by anyone or anything, save possibly a bear, but he had never seen any animal or beast like this, and was beginning to feel terrified, to the point of trembling and nearly passing out.
The beast quickly turned its attention and head from its now dead prey to gaze at the source of bright lights shining on it, and to the loud, frightened voices coming from behind the light source. The beast, just merely 100 yards away, was still crouched down in a squatting position over the dead caribou, but now, while staring at their truck’s headlights with its evil red eyes, it began slowly standing to an upright position, raising its snout or canine nose high in the air in intimidating fashion, sniffing the air with its huge nostrils in an attempt to catch their scent.
Howloooooooooooooo......Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! The hideous howling and growling sounds it made, equivalent to that of a screech owl and Tasmanian devil from Hell combination, echoed as loud as cannons being fired off into the silence of the still night, causing a paralyzing feeling of terror to overcome Carl and Buck! The two of them quickly chambered a round into their rifles and raised them up to their shoulders in a firing position, aiming them in the direction of the horrific beast, while trying to affix the crosshairs from their rifle’s telescopic sights onto its impressive-looking and massive, muscular chest.
“Can you see it?!” asked Brian loudly and fearfully.
“My heart is pounding hard, and I’m shaking too much!” shouted Carl. “My crosshairs are all over the place, and it’s really hard for me to calm my breathing down enough to get a clear look or shot! What do you see, Brian? What do you see?!”
Brian was also having the same struggles as Carl with steadying his rifle due to trembling and hyperventilating, and decided it best to lean his rifle against the door of the truck instead. “I can see a little better, now that I’m steadying my rifle against the door, but I’m not sure if I have any explanation as to what I’m looking at, and I don’t know if I even believe my eyes, or if this is just a very bad dream! This really can’t be happening!”
“What do you mean?!” asked Carl vehemently, with a pleading tone.
“It looks like one of those brown, hairy werewolves from some of those horror movies that we’ve seen in the past!” exclaimed Brian as he studied the beast through his rifle’s scope. “It has a rounded and ugly-looking, brown, hairy head with a snout, red eyes, pointed ears, and nasty-looking sharp fangs or teeth, and crazy-looking claws, too! And it’s very muscular everywhere, like a very hairy hulk, and I swear to God that I see it wearing blue jeans, which appear partially torn up, along with hairy feet with claws!”
“What?!” asked Carl with extreme alarm and disbelief.
“Shit! It’s starting to come toward us now!” screamed Brian.
The werewolf, which was now affixed on their position, began slowly trotting toward them, increasing its speed with each gait, while also furiously snapping its jaws and fangs at the air.
“Shoot it now! Shoot!” implored Brian. He leveled the crosshairs on the advancing werewolf’s chest as best as he could despite their unthinkable situation, and quickly squeezed the trigger. KABOOM...BOOM! His first sight was the orange glow from his rifle’s muzzle blast through his telescopic lens, as both 270 Winchester caliber rifles roared into the night, sending his 130-grain soft-point bullet traveling at 3,000 feet per second, smacking hard into the beast’s muscular chest, and also instantaneously followed by the slightly slower but heavier 150-grain bullet from Carl’s rifle, which had been fired simultaneously!
The stunned werewolf briefly spun around 180 degrees and staggered, as if it were drunk and dizzy, and trying desperately to gather itself, but quickly regained its balance. It briefly reacted by digging at its wounds with its claws and biting at it with its fangs, as if it were trying to bite and attack whatever was causing it pain, before refocusing on them and continuing on with its determined, rage-filled forward charge!
“Did we hit it?!” asked Carl vehemently but also with a glimmer of hope.
“I know we did! For a second, it acted as if our bullets hurt it, but now it looks even more pissed off!” shouted the frustrated Brian in response.
“Keep shooting!” demanded Carl.
KABOOM ... KABOOM ... KABOOM ... KABOOM ... KABOOM ... KABOOM!
Brian and Carl emptied their rifles, shooting into the direction of the charging werewolf, unsure how many successful hits they had accomplished, but now needed to reload again, with the werewolf only twenty-five yards away and closing in fast! If they did hit the beast like they hoped, then it had shed off their bullets as if they were just annoying bee stings!
“Screw this!” yelled Carl. “Get in the truck now, Brian!”
They tossed their rifles in the truck with total disregard, as if they were a bag of dirty laundry, while also immediately jumping inside and slamming the doors behind themselves. Carl already had his truck’s engine running by the time Brian’s door shut, slamming his transmission into reverse and pushing his throt
tle fully to the floor! The werewolf’s red eyes now appeared to be around ten yards away, as all four tires were in the process of spinning up huge chunks of snow and dirt into its direction, causing them to lose sight of the creature momentarily. Carl had to be going at least twenty-five mph in reverse when he quickly turned his steering wheel with full force to his left, enabling the front of the truck to spin and slide fully around to the right, until it stopped while facing forward, in the opposite direction. Carl slammed the transmission into drive now, and again pushed the throttle fully to the floor, hoping to increase the distance between them and the pursuing beast! SLAM! Carl nearly lost control of his truck momentarily when its tail end and rear tires were knocked three feet sideways from one swipe of the werewolf’s massive right paw, as it was now running just behind the truck’s rear bumper! SLAM! Another near-disastrous powerful swipe from the beast, jolting them sideways again, just after Carl had regained control!
Village of the Full Moon Curse Page 4