“Oh…the tranquilizers…yes. They won’t work on it, Thomas. I tried to use them on several occasions and they had no effect.” In fact, he was telling the truth. He had used them on Parker in various stages of his transformation, to no avail.
Thomas doubted Alastair. “Why keep them?”
Alastair shrugged. “Why not?”
Thomas closed the container and then the drawer, deciding to bring the subject up again, later. He thought now might be a good time to change the topic of conversation and maybe dig a little into Alastair’s background. “You’re from Scotland? Are you a Scotland native, then?”
Alastair raised an eyebrow. “I’m from a Scottish family, yes. I am American, however.”
Thomas turned to look at the man. “Yet you still have a pretty deep Scottish accent.”
“Yes.”
Thomas shrugged. “Your father…was he ever in the military?”
Alastair was amused by that. “My father?” He chuckled again. “Lord knows my father would have made an excellent soldier, the bastard, but no, he was not.”
“Grandfather, then?”
Alastair frowned. He now understood.
“Yes. He was in the army. 101st Airborne. A Colonel.”
Ah, Thomas thought. That explains a part of it. “So, you are at least third generation American…and yet you still have that accent. I don’t get it.”
Alastair didn’t reply.
“You know, you look younger than me, Alastair. May I ask how old you really are?”
Alastair smiled to himself. He knows everything, but his simple mind won’t allow him to even begin to put it all together, the poor sot. “I’m forty…ish,” he answered.
Thomas laughed and nodded. “You know, all of this is going to come out. By…I’d say by day after tomorrow, your whole story will be known. What’s the point in being so mysterious now if everyone’s going to find out, anyway?”
Alastair decided to see if he could jump-start Thomas’s weak mind…perhaps push him into the truth. It might be dangerous, but darkness was coming soon. A few more hours and none of this would matter. “Did you even stop to think that maybe I chained up the animal precisely so that it could not get loose and hurt anyone?”
The question took Thomas by surprise. “I…no, I hadn’t.”
Alastair nodded. “You didn’t allow yourself to believe that perhaps the restraints were there for compassionate reasons and not for some abhorrent experiments. What if I chained it up so that it could not get loose?” he prodded. “What if I tried to protect you? What if the animal showed signs that led me to believe people were nearby, so I chained it down for their own protection?”
“Is that what happened?”
“Yes, Thomas…it is. I had the framework designed for the animal and anytime someone was near, I secured him to it. Only this time, this once…he broke free.”
Thomas walked over and sat down across from Alastair. “You were trying to protect us?”
Alastair nodded. “Though I’d be lying if it was not to protect the animal as well…and even to protect me. I did not want it killed or trapped, and so I restrained it if there were any signs…any signs at all that someone had strayed into this land.”
Thomas turned as he heard a groan from behind him.
“Don’t believe the bastard.”
Thomas smiled and jumped up from the table. Jack’s tail was wagging furiously as the dog licked Delmar’s face. Delmar pushed Jack away. “Get away, you furry oaf.”
Thomas stood over Delmar and held out his hands to restrain him. “Don’t get up. Take it easy for a few more minutes.”
“I’m fine,” Delmar said as he propped himself against the edge of the couch.
Jenny sat up, then moved her legs out of Delmar’s way, so that she sat cross-legged on the couch. “You must be feeling better,” she said to Delmar, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah….I guess so. What about you?”
“I’ve gotten some sleep…I guess I’m better, too.”
Delmar groaned. “That’s good.”
Thomas knelt down so that his face was level with his friend’s. “Jenny knows about the cancer, Delmar. Was that what caused your fever? You were out for a while…we couldn’t wake you.”
“I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “It’s never happened before. The docs said that it would be weeks before any of the real symptoms started showing.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Did the bastard have the plug? Is the radio working?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Jesus,” Delmar groaned.
“You don’t have to call me that,” Thomas said, grinning. “You can call me Thomas.”
“Ha...ha,” He mocked. “I need aspirin, Hero. I’ve got a massive headache. Will you get some from my pack?” Delmar asked.
“I’ll get them,” Jenny said, and hopped off the couch.
Delmar watched her. “She’s feeling better,” he whispered.
“I can hear you, Delmar,” Jenny called as she knelt down and retrieved the first aide pack. “I suppose I do feel a little better…now that we know help is on the way.” She came back and ripped open two packets of aspirin. “Here. I’ll get some water…”
“Wait, Jen. I’ll do it,” Thomas quickly interjected. He didn’t want her near Alastair. She nodded and sat back down on the couch. He went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water from the blivet, then soaked a cloth and tossed it on the table in front of Alastair. “Here,” he said.
Alastair frowned, but took the cloth and wiped the dried blood from his nose and face, and then from the table.
“I could use some food, too. Have you guys eaten anything?” Delmar asked Jenny.
She shook her head.
“I didn’t get to eat much of that bowl of noodles…and if you haven’t eaten, either...wow. You must be starved.”
Jenny raised her eyebrows. “I guess I could eat something.”
Thomas came back with a glass of water. Delmar swallowed the pills, throwing his head back as he gulped the water down. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I need more water…and I have to have some food. How about you, Thomas? Jenny’s hungry, too…and who knows when the helicopter will get here.” He patted Thomas’s arm. “I just remembered…how is the weather? Any change?”
Thomas shook his head. “If anything it’s worse out there now than it was before.”
“Shit.”
“Yup.”
Delmar slowly got to his feet. “Uh oh,” he moaned.
“What is it?”
“I’ve got to go to the head,” Delmar said, dryly. “I don’t suppose you would go for me?” He chuckled, then looked down at his feet. “You took my damned boots off. Knucklehead.”
“Didn’t want you to go into shock. You know the drill.”
“Bah.” He looked around until he found them, then plopped down beside Jenny. “See these boots?” He pointed.
Jenny nodded.
“These boots are nine years old. NINE. Can you believe that?”
Thomas frowned. Delmar hadn’t acted this nonchalant since before they left Hope.
“I traded a set of specially-made jungle boots for them. It wasn’t even a fair trade. What was the guy’s name…Frederickson. Yeah. Anyway, I traded a set of thirty-dollar hot weather boots for these babies. These are top of the line, waterproof mountain boots.” Delmar grunted as he finished tying the second boot.
Jenny looked at Thomas and shrugged.
“You sure you are okay, Hero? You sound…I don’t know…giddy…maybe even a little drunk.” Though Delmar hadn’t slurred any of the words, his tone suggested that he was not in the least bit stressed or worried.
Delmar grimaced, then looked up at Thomas. “I think so. In fact, other than this headache, I feel great. Better than ever.”
That wasn’t the right answer so far as Thomas was concerned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go all the way to the outhouse.”
Delmar scoffed. “The outhouse? Pff
ft. I’m going right outside. I’ll be back in a second. When I am back, we need to fix up some chow and ask that bastard over there some questions.” He gestured toward Alastair. “Old Jeremiah there has some explaining to do.”
Thomas sighed. “His real name is Alastair.”
Delmar jumped up from the couch. “See,” he shouted. “I told you his name wasn’t really Jeremiah Johnson.” He laughed. “I see you’ve tied him up…the lying bastard.”
“Okay, okay…do your thing outside and we’ll get something to eat.”
Delmar walked into the foyer, staring the whole time at Alastair. He stopped. “Alastair is a girl’s name.” Alastair made no reply. Delmar chuckled and went outside.
“I hope you can control your friend,” Alastair said.
Thomas walked over and started rummaging through a large cupboard. “He’s fine.”
“Was he bitten last night?”
Thomas froze. Why would he ask me that?
“If he was bitten last night, he might have an infection. It might affect his judgment.”
“An infection?” Thomas asked.
Alastair nodded. “The…animal is sort of like a big cat in that way…you know, like a cougar or a lion. It carries…bacteria in its mouth that can cause serious infections.”
Thomas looked toward the door. “Assuming you aren’t completely full of shit, tell me how serious?”
“The infection can be quick, and takes a few days for the body to fight off…and it can cause high fever, and impair motor function and critical thinking.” Alastair was enjoying the lies. He comforted himself in that there was always at least a grain of truth in them.
“Unconsciousness?”
“Almost always.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Would you have listened? Besides, I didn’t know. It didn’t cross my mind.”
Thomas chose to ignore Alastair for now, but he would force Delmar to take the rest of the antibiotics from the aircraft’s first aide kit. He removed some cans of peaches and some vacuum–packed crackers, and found some candied yams. He saw plenty of canned vegetables, fruits, and there was a lazy-susan filled with spices, but there was no meat of any kind. No icebox of any kind, either. He assumed that Alastair must be a vegetarian. That lifestyle certainly did not suit a man who hunted for sport and hung his conquest’s heads on the wall. He sighed and placed several of the cans of fruit and vegetables on the table. He saw Alastair looking down at the cans.
“We’re going to eat some of your food, Alastair.”
“I see that. May I have some as well?”
“Give me your word that you won’t cause any trouble? You asked if I could control Delmar…well, you don’t want to find out. If you piss him off, my actions are going to seem like powder and fluff.”
“Interesting analogy,” Alastair replied. “I’ll do my best. I give my word.”
The cabin door opened, and Thomas could see that the sun was beginning to settle. “Can opener?” he asked Alastair.
“Left hand drawer…left side of the sink.”
Delmar brushed the snow off of his shoulders and sat down across from Alastair. He smiled at him, and began to ask him questions. Thomas had already asked them all, so he called Delmar into the bedroom, where he told him everything. He emphasized that there was a real possibility that, no matter how nefarious Alastair’s association with the creature was, he might have actually tried to protect them. That was what Alastair had been saying when Delmar woke up.
Delmar refused to believe any of it, but he agreed to be somewhat civil to the man…stopping short of making a promise. Thomas also talked his friend into taking a huge dose of the few remaining antibiotics. Afterwards, Delmar glared at Thomas. “Don’t believe this guy. I’m telling you, he’s lying.”
Thomas just smiled. There is the Delmar that I’m so used to.
A few minutes later, Thomas opened up several of the cans of food. He gave Alastair a spoon. Jack, who hadn’t recently been commanded to “stay,” sauntered up to the table and placed his front paws up on the bench opposite Alastair. The Husky smelled food and wanted in on the action. Jack stiffened when he saw Alastair, but he did not growl. Delmar carried a spoon and a can of peaches to Jenny, who thanked him and sat down on the floor in front of the fire.
Thomas gave Jack some peaches as well, and the dog gobbled them up. When he finished, he jumped up on the bench and stared across at Alastair. Each time Alastair looked up, Jack let out a throaty, but barely audible growl. Thomas was amused by the behavior. After all, his Jack loved everyone…and it was testimony to the intelligence of animals that Jack could obviously tell this man was not to be trusted. Alastair didn’t ask that Jack be moved, so Thomas let him stay there.
Delmar decided that he would try to continue the questioning where Thomas had left off, and so he shooed Jack away and sat down in his place. “So, you say that you tried to stop the thing…the monster from hell that is NOT a balding Chinese bear, by the way…by chaining him up, right?”
Alastair couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aye.”
Delmar scoffed and shook his head, “I’ll tell you what I think…I think that you bought this thing on some black market…some weird biological mixed-breed animal-thing. You thought it was interesting or maybe funny…so you bought it. You are undoubtedly a rich man...and rich men tend to find ways to satisfy their appetites, no matter how strange…or sick.”
Alastair chuckled again, then straightened his face. “You have no idea of my appetites…I promise you.”
“So, you bought this thing, tried to train it, and failed. All the time knowing how dangerous it is and what it is capable of doing.”
“You are wrong.”
“Go to hell, nutford.”
“Oh, I have no doubt where I am going when my time comes, Delmar…but you can rest assured that you will already be there.”
For a moment, Delmar thought of his cancer. The man was probably right…he would be in hell long before Alastair.
Thomas, who had been studying the intricate water system at the kitchen sink, heard Alastair’s comment and turned around to face him. “Remember what I said.”
“Fuck you, ya stupid fucking child!” Thomas involuntarily took a step back at Alastair’s outburst, and he bumped into the counter. Delmar also leaned back, his expression frozen in place by the surprising display. Alastair’s eyes were huge, and his teeth were gritted. He looked absolutely mad. “You fucking man-child! I told you to let me go, but you act like you are on a damned crusade! A crusade of good! Hometown soldier makes good!” He laughed, and the laugh was guttural. Thomas glanced at Delmar, who sat silent, his mouth hanging open. “You fucking asked for it, boys. Aye! You asked for it. I told you to fucking let me go, but now it’s too late. He’s coming, idiot fools! He…is…coming.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jack went completely nuts, growling and snarling from behind Delmar. His teeth were bared and saliva shot from his jaws as he snapped them. Thomas ran around the table and subdued him, dragging him back toward the foyer. He attached the leash to his harness and snapped the D-ring around the neck of the doorknob. He quickly finished and came back to the table where Alastair seemed to have calmed a bit. Just then, they heard Jenny cry out and saw her scramble toward the couch, only stopping for a second to look directly at Alastair. He stared back, and smiled. Thomas saw the smile, and his nerves snapped.
He opened his hands as if looking for something to strike Alastair with, and then removed the knife from his pocket. He slammed it so that it stuck in the center of the table just in front of Alastair’s face. “I’ll skin you alive, so help me God.” he leaned forward, about to say something else, when he saw beads of sweat pop out of Alastair’s forehead and face. Had Thomas’s threat worked so easily on the defiant Scot? Thomas pulled the knife out of the table and began to move the tip of it toward Alastair’s face. The man jumped back and away from it and shook his head.
Thomas frown
ed. “Is it the knife, Alastair, or is it this knife that scares you? You really are a crazy bastard, aren’t you? A damned loon. Is this knife some special thing? A religious thing, maybe? Well, that is great…all the better for when I cut out your damned eyes.” He didn’t mean it, he knew. He had already calmed down, his heart slowing as he regained control of his breathing. Oh, he did want to hurt the man for scaring Jenny…but he doubted he really would have done it. Thomas looked over at Delmar, who raised his eyebrows and looked back.
“Holy shit, Hero,” was all Delmar said.
Alastair wanted to spit at Thomas, to somehow wrestle the knife away and slice out the man’s heart…but the knife was now more of a danger to himself. Just a touch from the blade would burn him like fire. A thrust into the chest and Alastair would be dead…at least until the knife were removed.
Alastair’s outburst was caused by a failed attempt to transform. He couldn’t see how dark it was outside, and had thought that maybe it was close enough. Not only had the attempt failed, but it had also drained all of his energy in the process. Now, Thomas and Delmar once again held the upper hand, if only for a time. The damned knife! If only he had hidden it…but then how would he have known to do it?
He had tried to use silver on himself just after the stock market crashed during the beginning of the great depression. He’d lost almost everything, and the authorities in New York had taken an interest in him with regard to several gruesome murders and missing persons. They had questioned him three times, and they were not giving up.
Just as it was when he awoke to find that he had murdered his wife and son, Alastair had again reached his limit. He stole the alter bowl from a nearby church and ordered that a knife be crafted from the almost pure silver. He waited patiently, and when it was finished, he took it to a bewildered priest, who reluctantly blessed the knife. Alastair went home and lay on his bed, grasped the silver knife with hands that were wrapped in cloth so as to protect them from the silver…and plunged it into his heart.
Two days later a coroner’s assistant was reprimanded for the disappearance of a corpse…Alastair’s corpse. The young man had lifted the silver bladed knife, astonished that the cops had not stolen the beautiful weapon for themselves. Their loss was his gain, he had figured. Quitting time came during the middle of Alastair’s autopsy, so the young man had covered the body and slid it back in its drawer. The morning shift found the cadaver doors mangled and Alastair’s body missing.
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