Beneath a Winter Moon

by Shawson M Hebert

  * * * * *

  “Wake up!” Deluth yelled. “Wake up you lazy bastards!” He banged on the side of the helicopter, but Snow was already awake from his slumber on one of the passenger benches. “Time to get wheels up. We’ve got skies clear enough to get us to Jeremiah’s cabin, so we are out of here.”

  Snow groaned and swung his feet over the side, then hopped onto the concrete floor. “Are you sure?” he asked of Deluth.

  “Absolutely. We have a break from probably now till dawn. The winds are safe, and the snowstorm has lifted temporarily. We have a good window and we have to move now.”

  The men were moving slowly, rubbing their eyes, looking around for their gear.

  “Move it! Get your gear and let’s move! Wake up!”

  Deluth moved to the hanger door controller and smacked it hard. The huge doors began to open, letting the ice-cold wind waft inside, as their precious heat dissipated into the night.

  Soon the men had the helicopter rolled out onto the tarmac and were doing a final preflight and weapons inspection—while Deluth growled at them the entire time. Finally, he threw up his hands. “It’s been thirteen minutes, gentlemen. That’s unacceptable!”

  “Preflight’s done, Captain,” Snow called out from the cockpit. “Load up and let’s get moving.”

  “Finally!” Deluth said as he climbed into the back. The men strapped themselves in as the rotors began to turn. They would keep the doors closed until they were near the LZ, at which time the door-gun would be utilized to protect them.

  As the helicopter lifted off, Deluth snatched a small radio from his web-belt. He connected an earpiece to it and plugged it in, listening intently. None of the men noticed the frown on Deluth’s face, or the concerned expression as he scribbled something onto a notepad. A few minutes later, he disconnected the earpiece and put away the pen and notepad. He looked at his men and cursed under his breath while, at the same time, praying that all their work thus far would mean something—and not have been in vain. He would not tell his men that Alan’s van had not made it to the rendezvous. He would not tell them that the warning beacon was sending an emergency signal. That mission was secondary—they must first get to Jeremiah.

  Thirty minutes later, turbulence and high winds began to buffet against the small aircraft, jostling the men. Kaley turned around in the co-pilot’s seat. “We are over the lake. We should be over the cabin in another half hour.”

  Deluth flipped the flight helmet’s microphone to his lips. “Use thermals as soon as we are close. I want to know what is moving around down there—if we can tell.”

  Kaley nodded and have him a thumbs-up.

  * * * * *

  Inside the cavern, Delmar and Thomas embraced for a moment, slapping each other on the back. They drank from their canteens and then worked to free themselves, removing the rotting wood and the built up piles made up of dirt, branches, and rocks. They tossed aside small boulders and soon the hole was easily large enough to crawl through. Thomas stepped out into the cold night, breathing the chilled air into his lungs and sighing with relief. It was still snowing, but it was of no concern. He called Jack out of the cavern and once again hooked the leash to his belt. Delmar stepped out into the cold and slapped Thomas on the shoulder.

  The men had failed their mission to capture or kill Alastair, but they still had a chance to make their way back to the lake Cabin and to the rescue teams that surely waited there. They would have to settle for trying to convince authorities that Alastair was responsible for everything, which would be no small matter, but they at least had a chance.

  First, they would have to survive the night. The werewolf would not give up, they knew, and though the beast’s size would slow it down as the tunnel cramped, they had no doubt that if Delmar could get through, so could the werewolf. They would have to move as quickly as possible and the sooner the better. As if on cue, they heard a muffled howl. The beast was close, probably having made it into the cramped tunnel just outside the small cavern.

  “We’ve go to move,” Thomas said, holding his compass. “That way,” he pointed, indicating northwest.

  “Wait,” Delmar said. “Hear me out.”

  Thomas heard desperation in his friend’s voice. “I’m listening, but we have got to move.”

  “I know where we are, Thomas.” Delmar gestured at a large rock facing. “I mean exactly where we are. We are only a couple of hundred meters from the cavern…the one where Daniel was…” Delmar’s voice trailed off.

  Thomas looked around. He thought he recognized the area. They had maneuvered around this spot in the dark before—he was sure of it.

  “Remember the hole? The huge friggin’ pit inside that cavern? Think about it…any animal in that hole is in it for good. Werewolf, vampire…whatever…the devil himself would be trapped if he fell into the damned thing.”

  Thomas thought he understood.

  “We can either keep running and damned likely be killed before the sun rises or we can trap the bastard inside that pit. If we can do that, all we need to do then is to wait for sunup.”

  Thomas opened his mouth to reply…closed it…opened it again. Delmar was right about that hole. Not even Alastair’s alter ego could leap out of that.

  “We do our best to camouflage it, lead him into it…and we’ve got the bastard.”

  A wailing howl came from the direction of the cavern. Delmar continued, “It sounds like he is still stuck.” He took Thomas’s shoulder. “I screwed up today when I jumped into the cavern. I get it. I ruined an opportunity and we were lucky to get out alive…but now there isn’t much choice.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, “He’s going to be here pretty soon…and we won’t get far in the mean time. He’ll burst into the mountains and follow our trail—he’ll find us within an hour.”

  Thomas was silent. He thought for a moment about how beautiful the snowfall was…even on a starless night. Flakes as big as his grandpa’s silver dollars.

  “It will be a last stand, Hero. We will either get him or we’re dead. There aren’t any alternatives when facing that thing. We had fire before…we have nothing now.”

  “We can do it.” Delmar said.

  Thomas finally nodded. “I know we can. And you are right. If we try to get down this mountain tonight, we are dead.”

  They ran.

  * * * * *

  “That cabin is gone, sir!” Kaley shouted into his mic. “It’s burned down. No live heat signatures nearby, either—just what is left of the cabin.”

  Deluth silently cursed his bad luck “Snow, recon this area, give us just above treetop altitude so we can look for heat signatures.”

  Snow nodded and veered the helicopter away from the still smoldering ruins of the cabin. He felt a lump in his throat as he thought of Jenny, but still held out hope that she had made it out alive—and that she had gotten away from Jeremiah.

  Snow flew the helicopter in a wide, intersecting grid. Searching for people on the ground was his specialty, and he knew that if the fancy heat-seeking devices worked and if there were people down there, he could find them.

  “Snow?” Deluth called through his mic.

  “Roger,” Snow replied.

  “I want you to run a circular pattern, stretching it out larger and larger so that we cover three-hundred sixty degrees—rather than doing one grid at a time. You understand?”

  Snow nodded. “It will take longer, but I understand.”

  “We don’t have any idea which way Jeremiah or those survivors would move. We need to cover as much as we can.”

  “Got it,” Snow answered. He adjusted his controls and began flying a lazy, circular pattern, expanding it with each complete rotation.

  * * * * *

  Thomas ran right behind Delmar, Jack loping at his side. Thomas half prayed that his friend was wrong about where they were, in which case they could simply keep running. He felt safer running, knowing they had a head-start of at least a half-hour—but he also knew that the bea
st was supernatural, and could probably make up that half-hour in mere minutes.

  The wonderment he felt after making it out of Alastair’s lair was gone now, replaced by the knowledge that those events had merely been a bend in the road—the road leading to an ultimate confrontation. This chance—this idea of Delmar’s seemed to be logical and was actually not too bad. Thomas didn’t understand how they would camouflage that huge pit…or how they would lure the creature into it, but the odds were better than simply running blindly down the mountain.

  Delmar had done it. He led them straight to their cavern. Thomas had hoped never to see the place again—where Daniel had been carried away by the werewolf—but even so, he didn’t hesitate as he stepped back into the cavern. He was awash with mixed feelings of hope, safety, and sadness as Delmar rummaged through his pack, looking for chem.-lights.

  Jack wanted free of the leash, but Thomas would hear nothing of it. He knelt down and pulled the dog in close. “I’m not letting you go just yet, boy…but I promise I will if I have to. I’ll give you the chance to get away from this place.”

  Thomas quickly stood up. Delmar was already heading back toward the entrance.

  “Did you hear that?” Thomas asked as they reached the entrance to the forest.

  “I did. It sounded like a helicopter. You think mountain rescue has made it out here?”

  “God help us,” Thomas said. “If they set down before we get the job done, Alastair will massacre them.”

  They stepped just outside the entrance and stared into the sky. They could hear it plainly, now. It was a helicopter, and it was getting farther away.

  Delmar shook his head. “We can’t do a damned thing about it, Thomas. Besides, its gone. If Alastair comes, he will come for us.” He put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “We will get him, and we will find that helicopter if it’s out there.”

  “Jesus,” Thomas muttered. “I wish we could have at least seen the damned thing—or seen which way it was headed.

  They went back inside, and Delmar ran around the cavern, snapping open chem-lites and placing them in cracks within the walls. Thomas did the same after resting for a moment, and soon all but four spares were used, lighting the huge cavern with an impressive glow.

  * * * * *

  “Hover! Hover!” Kaley cried out. “I just saw two, maybe three definite signals, but they disappeared.” He looked back to Deluth and then at his sensors. “They were there, and they were bipedal—at least two of them were—and then something smaller, it might have been animal.”

  “But not our beasty?” Deluth shouted over the mic.

  Kaley shook his head. “I’d swear the two were people, boss, the way they were moving. The third was too small to be our beast. Could have been a dog, maybe.”

  Deluth nodded. “We’ll take no chances.” He tapped Snow on the back of the shoulder. “You move us at least half a kilometer south, and find a place to set down.” Looking back at Kaley, he gestured to the sensor. "You keep your eyes on that sensor. If those two are survivors and being chased, we could see our werewolf at any moment.”

  * * * * *

  The werewolf was very nearly stuck inside the confines of the tunnel. As he struggled to move, shifting his shoulders side-to-side, he began to panic. He was not used to dealing with situations like this, and his mind was not prepared for them. Never before had he been eluded so easily by his prey, and now, feeling stuck in the darkness of the tunnel—it was almost too much for the beast. He had made it to within site of the jagged opening into the last cavern, but his body had jammed just short of reaching it. The more he tried to pull or push himself free, the less he moved. He wriggled, twisted, and tried to turn his body, but to no avail. He breathed heavily and then let out a long sigh. He closed his eyes.

  Moments later, he howled in frustration and began struggling once more. By accident, he clamped his huge canines down on his blue tongue. The shock of the pain sent him into a rage. He howled in utter fury as he exploded into action, attacking the small space with a maniacal rage that would not be resisted. Chunks of clay broke free from the tunnel’s ceiling as he turned his huge body and howled in rage again. He pushed forward and found that he could move. Just barely…but he did move. Finally, he reached the opening, and launched himself out and into the small cavern.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  While Thomas put the finishing touches on their makeshift covering for the pit, Delmar removed the bandages from his knees and from his bullet wound. Thomas looked over in the dim light. “Well?”

  “Completely healed,” Delmar said, sadly. “It’s like my knees never had a scratch and my leg only has tiny marks showing where the bullet holes once were.”

  “When he gets here, you stay by me. We will still do this together.”

  “Not if he takes a decent look at that mess we have over that hole.”

  Thomas shrugged. “You were right, though, Delmar. This is what we have to do. No choice. We take him down now, or he takes us.” He pointed to the branches and rubble they had placed over the hole, “If he doesn’t walk into the pit, then we force him into it.”

  Delmar wondered just how in the hell they were going to force that beast to go anywhere it didn’t want to go, but he held the question back. The beast would soon find them. There wasn’t much time for argument or despair. Instead, he changed the subject. “How many rounds do you have?”

  “Seven for my elephant gun,” he said. “Nine for the pistol.”

  Delmar sighed. “I’ve got eleven, but I doubt either of us will get a chance to reload. Oh—and I’ve got four in this Colt.”

  Thomas knew Delmar was right. Trying to reload any of the weapons would take an obscene amount of time.

  Thomas moved behind a large stalagmite formation. “This will do for cover. It’s right behind the pit and Alastair’s only way of getting to us will be to either fall in or to tippy-toe around the edges…which I doubt he would do.”

  Delmar figured that the beast could probably leap over the hole and land right on top of them—and he believed that Thomas had purposely remained silent with regard to that possibility. “When we are out of ammo—in the rifles, I’ll fire my pistol. That will give you a chance to reload your cannon.” He smiled, gesturing to the double-barreled rifle. “Might keep the bastard’s head down for a few seconds, anyway.”

  Thomas started to reply but Delmar held up a hand. He closed his eyes for a moment. “He’s coming—and he’s close.”

  “The chem-lites…” Thomas said.

  But Delmar was already moving. He ran to the front of the cavern and methodically removed each of the chem-lites, shoving them deep inside his daypack. Soon the only ones left were the two in front of the pit. The dimly glowing tubes would provide the light necessary to aim at the werewolf and to help guide the beast directly in front of the pit.

  Thomas thought of his family. His sister, whom he loved dearly and whom had been his best friend and confidant through the years. He thought of old friends, some long gone, and relatives he had neglected to contact for many years. He realized that he had not updated his will since he had left the military. Who would handle everything if he didn’t make it? He had no burial plot, no headstone—and no instructions for anyone in that regard. He had said to his sister once that he’d be comfortable enough with the idea of being buried with other soldiers—perhaps in a veteran’s cemetery. Maybe she would remember.

  He found himself regretting that he never married—then he took it back, believing that he would not be good at it. He worried for Jack. He was sorry for bringing him here—and wondered if the husky would actually take an opportunity to flee if Thomas should fall. He prayed that the dog would run. The thought of Jack being killed by the werewolf was such an affront that he could not even hold it in his thoughts for a second before the pain overcame him.

  He thought of his mother and father, and wondered if he would be with them if Alastair’s alter ego won the coming battle. Perhaps he would also s
ee his grandfather and grandmother—uncles, aunts, and other relatives long gone. What about the wrath of God, he wondered. What will really happen next? Maybe his not knowing meant that his afterlife would be filled with endless pain and suffering. With that, he turned his thoughts away. God knew what he felt—knew his sorrow for his sins and the good that was inside him.

  Delmar settled in beside Thomas and leaned against the clay-like mounds of stalagmites. Thomas had broken them off and leveled out an area that was suitable for them to use as rifle-rests. The big man took a moment to reach down and pet the nervous Siberian Husky that lay down between the men. “You’re a good boy, Jack.” Delmar looked at Thomas, who gazed toward the tunnel’s entrance. He gave Thomas a little shove on the shoulder. Thomas looked over at his friend and the outstretched hand. He took it. He saw the mist in Delmar’s eyes, reflecting the soft light—but Thomas didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded, and was glad that Delmar did the same. There wasn’t much to say now that hadn’t already been said—or was understood. Sorry for the mistakes? Sorry that we came here? Sorry that we didn’t make better decisions? Sorry for Steven, Jenny—Daniel? There was nothing more.

  In the next few minutes…perhaps mere moments, words would becomes meaningless. They would either live or die. Only action was necessary now.

  * * * * *

  Deluth looked at Snow, who remained in the cockpit of the helicopter. Deluth instinctively ducked from the still rotating blades, though they barely moved now. “If you lose radio contact, then you are to fly out of here at your first opportunity after dawn.” He handed Snow a folded paper. “Contact the people at that number and tell them that Deluth’s team is down, and give them the coordinates. They will likely tell you to stay where you are, and will send a team out for you. Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant—they are no worse than me.” He smiled. “The same goes for if I tell you to get out of here now. If I come over that radio and tell you to get out...don’t hesitate. Get the hell out. Got it?”