Cure for Wereduck

by Dave Atkinson

  It was him. Fear rushed through every part of her body. She shook and trembled as if it had been mere seconds and not fifteen years since that awful night. She clenched her teeth and turned her fear into anger.

  Laura raised her hand and pointed the heavy revolver at the wolf. The creature cocked its head to one side.

  Laura closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  The explosion from the gun was louder than she expected. The metal became hot in her hands. She opened her eyes and saw her bullet had hit its mark. The wolf’s crumpled body lay motionless in the grass.

  She pushed open the screen door as the sun peeked over the horizon. As she strode across the yard, the wolf seemed to melt into the form of a man lying on his side, blood staining his shoulder and arm. As Laura came closer, she saw he didn’t have the black hair she was expecting, but rusty brown. The realization hit her like a bag of bricks.

  It wasn’t Marcus.

  “Wacka, I think he’s over here!” shouted a girl’s voice from the woods. “John! What was that sound?”

  A young teenaged girl with dark hair emerged from the forest. She was just fastening the top button of her shirt when she saw Laura standing over the body of her best friend.

  “John!” she gasped.

  Kate dashed to John’s side and rolled him over.

  “John, no! Say something!”

  John coughed. “Kate?” he said weakly.

  “I’m here. Yes, it’s Kate.” She placed her hand on his wounded shoulder.

  Laura stood frozen in the middle of the yard. The gun dangled from her fingertips, then dropped to the grass.

  “John?” Laura whispered. She fell to her knees. “I shot…John? But...how can that—”

  “We have to move him into the house,” said Kate.

  Laura seemed to come out of a trance. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course.” She hurried to Kate’s side. “How can we move him?”

  Kate looked John up and down. “I think…you grab his legs, I’ll hold onto his chest, and we’ll haul him in.”

  They got into position, but John cried in pain as they tried to lift him. Kate looked helpless. “What are we going to do?”

  “Don’t move him,” said a man’s voice.

  Laura looked up to see Marcus rushing toward them from the side of the house. “Stay away!” she shouted. “Stay away or I’ll….”

  “Or what?” he challenged. “Or he dies?”

  Marcus kneeled beside John.

  “Dad?” said John in a small voice. He coughed again. “I’m cold.”

  “I’m here,” said Marcus. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

  “Dad....”

  Marcus turned to Kate. “Can you find me some blankets? Quickly?”

  Kate nodded and ran into the house.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got here,” said Marcus. John winced as his father gently turned him over. “The bullet went clean through,” he said to himself.

  “I thought he was you, Marcus,” said Laura. “I thought you were coming back to kill me. I never meant....”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Silver bullet?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Good. Then he has a chance.”

  Laura stared at him. “Good?” she stammered. “But….”

  Kate ran back from the house with a blue wool blanket. She helped Laura wrap it around John’s shivering body.

  “The cure,” said Marcus to Kate. “Do you still have some?”

  Kate looked at him blankly. “What?”

  “The Cure for Werewolf, do you have any left?”

  “I…I think so,” she said. “It’s in my canteen.”

  Kate ran to the woods and searched the ground. Wacka had been carrying the canteen when they emerged from the river, but must have dropped it in the forest when she turned back into a duck.

  Where is Wacka? thought Kate. She worried about her friend for just a moment before she spotted a corner of the canteen poking out of a bed of ferns. She grabbed it and rushed it back to Marcus.

  “There’s not much left,” she said. “Just a few swallows.”

  “It’ll be enough,” he said, taking the canteen from her. Marcus unscrewed the lid. “John,” he said with a grimace, “I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.”

  John moaned and whispered, “Daddy, no….”

  Marcus held the mouth of the canteen over the bullet hole and began to pour. What looked like steam sizzled from the wound. John screamed in pain as Marcus began to recite:

  “If the wolf you seek to calm,

  Let this potion be your guide:

  A shot of silver, a soothing balm;

  Still the beast that lives inside.”

  “Marcus, what are you doing?” shouted Kate.

  “Saving his life,” said Marcus, emptying the canteen on John’s shoulder.

  John lay writhing on the ground. “Stop!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “Dad, stop!”

  Marcus dropped the empty canteen and put his hands on his son.

  “I’m done now,” he soothed. “Daddy’s all done. Lie back.”

  John’s face was streaked with tears. “Dad!” he gasped in pain and terror, still rocking back and forth.

  But Kate could see something was happening. John’s breathing was calming down. His violent shaking was slowing. Kate held her breath.

  John curled up into a ball on the ground, wrapping his arms around his body. When his hand brushed his injured shoulder, he stopped.

  “Dad,” he said steadily. He sat up. “Dad, what the heck?”

  “What is it?” said Kate, leaning in to get a better look.

  John pulled his hand away. The wound was gone. In its place was a pink welt, like an old, faded scar.

  “It’s gone!” said Kate. She laughed nervously. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m…fine. But….” He looked at Marcus. “Dad, what happened?”

  “The cure,” said Marcus simply, picking up the empty canteen and screwing the lid back on. “It saved your life.” He paused a second. “Mostly.”

  “Mostly?” asked John.

  “It saved the human part of you,” explained Marcus. “We were really lucky to have this. But I’m afraid the wolf in you is gone. Forever.”

  Bobby ran as fast as his sneakers could carry him. His feet pounded the sidewalk as he tore around the quiet suburb, looking for his sister and John. He’d lost Marcus ages ago. When Bobby last saw him, he was running toward this neighbourhood. But Marcus was much faster on four legs than Bobby was on two.

  Then, a little while later, he’d heard a loud BANG. He prayed it wasn’t a gunshot, but he knew in his heart that it was.

  Bobby rounded a corner. Every house in this neighbourhood looked the same. Every window was still dark. Dozens of questions raced through Bobby’s mind. How would he be able to find out which house they were in? What was that shot? Was John okay? Was Katie okay?

  Bobby stopped at an intersection. He looked right and left. To his left, the road ended in a cul-de-sac near a small forest. At the last house on the block, he spotted a man and a woman sitting on the porch. Bobby ran toward them. That shot must have been nearly half an hour ago but he was having trouble keeping track of time. Maybe they’d seen or heard something.

  The couple on the front porch watched him approach. The man stood up. Bobby did a double take when he realized it was Marcus.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” he called, stepping off the porch to greet him. His face wore an expression Bobby had never seen on it before. He was smiling.

  “I heard a shot,” said Bobby, pausing to catch his breath. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Everyone’s fine,” said Marcus. He looked from Bobby to Laura sitting on the porch. “Everyone is g
oing to be fine.”

  Bobby looked confused.

  “Sorry. Bobby, this is Laura. Laura, this is the young man I was telling you about.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bobby,” said Laura, standing to shake his hand.

  Bobby’s eyes bulged. He turned to Marcus. “Like, Laura Laura?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “The lady you were telling me about?”

  “The very same.”

  Bobby blinked. “John’s mum?”

  “That’s her.”

  “And you’re just sitting with her, chatting pleasantly on the porch like everything is totally fine?”

  Laura grinned. Marcus coughed.

  “Well,” said Marcus with a wry smile. “A lot has happened in the last half hour.”

  Bobby looked back and forth from Marcus to Laura. “I’m so confused right now,” he said. “I thought you guys, like, hated each other.”

  “Hate is such a strong word,” said Marcus.

  “More like, deplored,” corrected Laura.

  Marcus and Laura exchanged a glance and laughed.

  “Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” demanded Bobby.

  “Honestly, I’m not quite sure myself,” said Marcus, “but you’re right. We did hate each other. But now….”

  “Now we’re just,” said Laura with a shrug, “catching up. Sorting out the last fifteen years.”

  “This is so weird,” said Bobby, shaking his head.

  “It is weird,” agreed Marcus. “But it’s good, too. And really, the one person we have to thank for this…is you, Bobby.”

  Bobby took a step back. “Me?”

  “You,” said Marcus. He smiled.

  Bobby thought for a moment. “I still don’t get it.”

  “You helped me look at our story in a different way, Bobby,” said Marcus. “I never stopped to think of how my actions affected the people around me. Your family. John.” He paused. “Laura.” He turned and held her gaze a moment.

  “And so everything is…better now?” ventured Bobby.

  “I still think there’s a lot of talking and healing that has to happen,” said Laura, “but yes. Things are definitely better now.”

  “Are you guys, like, back together then?”

  Laura and Marcus laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know if we’ve come that far,” said Marcus. “But we’ve come to an understanding. John’s going to live here with his mum.”

  “Really?” said Bobby, turning to Laura. “You don’t mind living with a werewolf?”

  “I can’t wait to have him live with me,” she said, beaming. “But John isn’t a werewolf. Not anymore.”

  Bobby stared. “What?”

  “It’s a long story, Bobby,” said Marcus, “and one Kate and John can fill you in on. But yes. John won’t ever be a werewolf again.”

  “Is he okay?” asked Bobby anxiously.

  “He’s fine,” Laura reassured him. “You can go in and see him, if you like. He’s resting in his room upstairs.”

  Bobby put his hand on the door handle. Marcus spoke before he could enter.

  “I don’t know how to properly thank you, Bobby,” he said. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things for a very long time, and you helped me see that. So, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Bobby. “I guess.”

  “And I’m sorry,” said Marcus. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you and your family. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Bobby looked up at him. “Where are you going to go now?”

  “Oh, I’ll be around,” he said. “It’s probably best I hit the road again. But I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” Marcus thought a moment. “You were right about me,” he said. “I don’t have to be the bad guy. But I know one thing for sure: you’re the good guy, Bobby.”

  “I swear, one day you will be the death of me, Katie Wereduck,” said Kate’s mother over the phone later that morning.

  Kate winced. She hadn’t heard her mother this upset in years. Maybe ever. “I know,” she said into the receiver. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Your father and I were worried sick,” scolded Lisa. “And on a full-moon night, of all nights. Your father paced around the house all night, growling at anything that moved.”

  “Oh, Mum,” said Kate. “I don’t know what to say….”

  “But,” interrupted her mother, her tone changing. “I’m glad you’re safe. And I’m glad you were able to help John reconnect with his mother. That took a lot of courage. You’ve been a good friend to him.”

  Kate blushed. “Thanks, Mum.”

  In the background, Kate could hear her father shouting.

  “Did you tell her about the pacing and the growling and how we were worried SICK ABOUT HER?” he yelled.

  Lisa put her hand over the receiver but Kate could still hear her mother’s retort: “Brian, she’s fine. Calm down and go get a cup of tea.”

  Kate smiled.

  “Can I speak to your brother?” said Lisa.

  “Sure thing. I think he just ate half the food in Laura’s fridge.”

  Kate passed the phone to Bobby.

  “Mum! I rode in the back of an eighteen-wheeler and it was AWESOME!”

  Kate knocked on the bedroom door and pushed it open a crack.

  “Mind if I come in?” she asked.

  John propped himself up on his pillow. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “Come on in.”

  Kate entered and sat on the edge of his bed. “You okay?”

  “Much better,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “How was it on the phone with your parents?”

  “They…weren’t the happiest with me. But they understand why we did it.”

  John raised his eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat quietly for a moment. Kate looked around the room. Morning sunlight poured through a window over a small, wooden desk. On the desktop was a framed photo of a laughing baby John and a much younger-looking Laura. Her eyes were so happy—like nothing bad could ever happen to her and her perfect son. And now they were reunited. John was here to stay.

  “So, this is great,” said Kate to John. “Right? I mean, this is what you wanted?”

  “I guess so,” he replied. “I mean, I’m not a werewolf anymore, so maybe it makes sense that I live with my not-werewolf mom.”

  Kate’s eyes welled up.

  “I understand,” she said. “And what if...what if there were some werewolves—and maybe a duck or two—who missed you?”

  John grabbed Kate’s hand. “I think a not-werewolf guy could still be best friends with a duck,” he said softly.

  “You’ll be so far away,” sniffed Kate.

  “But see,” he said, leaning back on his pillows with a grin, “they invented this thing called the internet.”

  Kate laughed. “I guess. But we have to chat every day. Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Bobby barged into the room and tossed the cordless phone on the bed. “Hey.”

  “Don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting or anything,” said Kate sarcastically.

  Bobby scoffed. “When have I ever worried about that?”

  Kate and John laughed.

  “Can I ask a dumb question?” said Bobby. “Where’s Wacka?”

  “Oh, my gosh!” exclaimed Kate. “Wacka!”

  Kate dashed out of the room and down the stairs. She flew out the back door and ran into the yard.

  “Waaaaacka!” She pushed through branches at the edge of the forest. “Wacka, where are you?”

  Kate traced her steps to the spot where she’d found her canteen. She couldn’t see Wacka anywhere. She called for the duck as she pushed deeper into the forest toward the river.

  “Wacka,” quacked a
familiar voice, just to Kate’s right.

  Kate followed her friend’s quacks until she found her nested in the dry leaves at the base of a tree; she was wrapped loosely in some sort of leather strap. Kate’s backpack lay nearby.

  “There you are,” said Kate, kneeling beside the duck. “What have you got?”

  Kate freed the duck from the strap. A grin spread across her face when she realized what it was attached to.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she said with a laugh. “You got Dirt Bag’s camera. You magnificent, magnificent duck.”

  “I’m telling you, it was the blind girl, the duck, and the wolf!” yelled Dirk. “They must have jumped off the train.”

  The police officer sitting across the table from Dirk rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He clicked the pen in his hand three or four times.

  “First,” said the officer, “stop shouting. Second, enough with the duck story. Just tell me what you were doing with that door open. You realize this is a federal offence, don’t you?”

  “I don’t realize anything,” insisted Dirk. “That’s what happened.”

  “Right,” said the officer. “Look, I just want to fill out this booking sheet and be done with you. Let’s try again.”

  “The blind girl, the duck, and the—”

  The officer’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. “All right, bub. I was just going to write you a ticket, but I think you need to spend a bit of time in lock-up to get your story straight.”

  The officer led Dirk out of the small office and down a hallway.

  “Maybe you should ask some of the other passengers,” said Dirk defiantly. “I’m sure someone saw something.”

  “We did,” said the officer, staring straight ahead. “Passengers in your car remember a blind girl with a service dog. No one remembers a duck. And someone said they saw them get off the train in the middle of the night in one of the northern New Brunswick towns. Campbellton or Bathurst.”

  They walked through a heavy metal door at the end of the hall. The room held half a dozen jail cells facing each other across a narrow walkway. Three of the cells held prisoners.

  “Check it out! A new guy!” taunted a bearded man in one of the cells.