The Wolf With the Silver Blue Hands

by Eric Ellert

  Moren remembered the pups and wondered if she'd opened the can cleanly enough so they couldn't cut their tongues. When she got into the bedroom, the pups were gone. She remembered she hadn't named them, not that they could actually understand you. "Hey, dog." She searched all the rooms upstairs twice, diving under all the beds and opening all the bathroom cabinets.

  She found them downstairs, though she couldn't imagine how they'd navigated the stairs unless they'd tumbled like Slinkies. "Stupid and sorry, how you like those names?"

  They were bigger, as if a year had passed. She mustn't have noticed before with all the wet fur. She stroked them and they pawed her as if they were practicing for a hunt.

  She put them back in the box, came back downstairs and grabbed something to eat from the fridge. There was an eel pie in there, about a week old -- Rau the Mao had sent it over, kissing mom's butt so he could convince her to leave. Stupid jerk. He told this story that Mau's glass case leaked just a tiny bit, but with all the visitors, tiny bits of his DNA were scattered all over the world like a carpet.

  Why hadn't he just said the town was dangerous, Deliverance in the Green Pond Mountains. "Thank you very much." She dunked the eel pie in the garbage and stared out the window, trying to see if there was any activity next door. She'd wanted to stay but she didn't want Rau waking up and he would, and asking questions about the Big Blue Man or Shep, or Crayon-head or whatever his real name was. There seemed to be two people in that big blue problem, the friendly blue and the one who swept up after the monsters and no matter what Rau did, she had a feeling, when it came down to it, Blue would take Kau's side.

  Moren stomped her foot and slammed the kitchen cabinet door. She'd forgotten to ask Blue about mom's snooping around. She'd gone from traipsing in the woods, to haunting the graveyard by herself. Moren had followed her a couple of times, and when she'd gotten there, mom seemed ok, but had made a point of scooting from the tombstone she'd been standing at when she heard Moren approach. It would have been easy-enough to backtrack and figure out. It wouldn't have been one who died before mom was born, would it? It couldn't be brand new, could it?

  They'd have lunch and mom would drop her off in town while she went gathering records in every office that had records in this miserable place. Moren wanted to ask her if they could move into town, there were so many empty houses, houses the town spent a lot of time and effort keeping up. It might be fun, but mom wouldn't move. Soon, she wasn't eating much, or sleeping much. The librarian gave her a key and she spent most of the nights tearing apart the back issues of the closed town paper, the paper that had covered the silver miners and later the Manhattan Project people. They'd kept everything, all ordered, cataloged and searchable by hand and that's where she lived practically, but Moren knew that wasn't exactly so. She'd seen a flashlight glowing in the woods and followed many a night to find mom at the graveyard taking rubbings on the stones. At first, Moren had thought it was one of those ghostly-strange Southern habits her mother must have kept from her youth in South Carolina but the idea had turned into vapor and Moren had known, the rubbings were proof.

  Mom had made a file. She knew where it was, but hadn't the heart to look at it. She wanted to cry, and she knew she'd wanted to cry for herself and not for mom.

  "La Vie en Rose" played again.

  Moren searched under the end table by the couch in the living room, found the portable DVD player and searched through the rack of DVDs in the endtable drawer, spilling them all out over the floor until she'd found the first season of Everwood and a copy of Carriers. Carriers was about a plague. She thought she might learn something. If the four stoops could survive till the end of the movie, well two of them, surely she and Faudron could. She stuffed everything into a plastic bag.

  "Ow." Moren felt a pain like a nail in her bone and looked down. The pup had bitten her ankle and hung on, its grip growing stronger by the second. She ran, dragging it into the kitchen, hopped up on the counter and shook it off. It fell hard and yelped.

  It looked six-months-old and kept pawing at the counter while the other one dug at the eel pie in the garbage, growling the way dogs do when you touch their food, but when it got its paws on it, it yelped and burst into flames.

  "Oh, no," Moren said. She'd never thought of werewolves as having pups. They were made and cursed and roamed the night, half in dreams and nightmares, and when it was over and they staggered home in ponchos. You sort of felt sorry for them until the evening came.

  But they'd been in the water. Maybe they'd been too young. She turned on the faucet and held the dishwashing hose out. The other pup looked so cute but it kept getting bigger, something intelligent in its eyes and soon it would jump. It placed its paws on the edge of the sink.

  Moren stood on the windowsill, crouched like a gargoyle, balancing herself above the dishes in the sink. She closed her eyes and sprayed it.

  The pup burned and screamed and before it turned to dust, it looked like a little man a foot-and-a-half-tall.

  Moren screamed and ran from the house, tripping at the pool of water at the edge of the lawn, the two puncture marks in her ankle stinging.

  She met Faudron on Rau's lawn and they stared at each other in the rain with pieces of Astroturf floating down the slope and into the reservoir.

  "He ok?" Moren asked.

  "I, I think," Faudron said.

  "Then why you look so sad?"

  "I found the whale." She slipped back a bit towards the water and had to keep shuffling her feet to keep her balance. "We could take it with us."

  "I'm all for it."

  "Dad's all right," Faudron said, as Moren said, "Mom's all right."

  "Liar." They both said at once.

  "Sorry," they both said at once.

  They hugged.

  Rau came out of the house, carrying a little saddle he placed on the lama as if no explanation was necessary.

  "Hey," Faudron asked, "Where you think you're going?"

  "You ok?" he asked.

  "No. I mean yes. He'll kill you," Moren said.

  Rau placed his spear in a leather scabbard and tied it to the saddle.

  "At least let me say goodbye," Moren said, giving Faudron a look and brushing past her as she moved.

  She crossed to the coral. Rau met her halfway and hugged her, gesturing Faudron over with his free hand.

  "Why you limping?" Faudron asked Moren.

  "It's nothing."

  Rau stepped back, looked in her eyes and sniffed the air. "You been bit?"

  "No."

  "Moren!" He checked his watch. "When?"

  "Just now."

  Rau pulled her shoe off as if she was a horse. "Ah, hell." He pushed Faudron and Moren behind the lama and grabbed the spear, stalking their house.

  "No, no. It was little."

  Moren told them what had happened.

  Rau came close and grabbed Moren by the arm. "You're going to hate me for this."

  He led her inside, up to the second floor and locked her in the bathroom.

  He ran home, Faudron right behind him. He went down to the basement and came back with what looked like a bonsai. Faudron couldn't get him to speak but followed him back home.

  Moren was cursing and pounding on the door. Rau placed the plant before the door and Moren went quiet.

  "I'll be back," Rau said. "You'll be fine." He turned to Faudron. "We'll fix this."

  "Fix what?"

  "It was Moren, not you; they lied."

  "Fix it, Rau?"

  "That plant's wolfbaine, by the way."

  "Hell no," Faudron said. "There's nothing wrong with my sister."

  "She's bit."

  "Don't say that."

  "But there are exceptions to the rule."

  Rau went outside and led the lama across the road and past the first trees. Faudron followed.

  "Where are you going?" she asked, somehow afraid to cross the road.

  "Lock the door and do me one favor, if you would."

  "
Anything."

  "Let the whale go," he said, gesturing to the reservoir.

  "That makes no sense. That's like saying let a movie go."

  "I can't explain. It's late," Rau said. He pointed to the sky. "That rain, they make it."

  "Bullshit."

  "Reservoir water'd melt a werewolf. Got to fill the wells."

  "You care?"

  " 'Bout one, maybe two, if you're not very careful," Rau said.

  Faudron tried to take a step, but trembled so she couldn't. She closed her eyes and ran across the road, only opening them when she felt the first branches brush her face.

  Rau looked so healthy, but it was somehow painted-on as if that thing in the basement hadn't magically healed him but had rather taken some healthy portion of him, cut it out and patched it over his wounds, leaving him spread thinner than he ought to be. He didn't look like he wanted to come back. She thought of all the old movies she'd ever seen. They parted by trains and planes and the one leaving always chewed the scenery trying to show how much they wanted to come back. She reached out to touch his hand, but either he or the beast moved away, she wasn't sure but since he didn't move back, she walked back to the road, not turning until she was safely on the brick line that marked her lawn, away from nature and it's nasty, dirty, deer ticks and strange good-byes.

  "Don't let her out," Rau said, a shadow among the trees.

  "I know."

  "It's here, the night of the triple moon, in it different dimensions might mingle. She might be good. She might do evil, even to you. Don't trust her."

  "Stop talking like that."

  "Run your hands in the water," Rau said as he came back to the road.

  Faudron stared at the spear.

  Rau held it high in the air as if it was heavy, but he could probably poke a playing card if she tossed one in the air. Would he, if she was so? "I hate you."

  She dipped down into the stream that surrounded her house and held her hands up.

  "You're fine."

  "And if?" Faudron asked.

  "I wouldn't 'a cared."

  "And her?" Faudron asked.

  "Don't let her out, don't."

  "Come back, don't get x'd. I never say killed."

  "I know," Rau said.

  "Oh, no. You're looking in my mind?"

  He smiled. "Yes."

  "Your people, Rau? What do they call your people?"

  "You call our planet Orion. You couldn't pronounce our name for it."

  "You'd just beam it in my head and don't you dare."

  "It wouldn't help. The way we say I love you, isn't quite the way that you do."

  "Liar, say it," Faudron said.

  The word appeared in her head so forcefully she closed her eyes.

  He wasn't coming back. She could hear the near future and listened to his heart beat out, fast like a washing machine on the spin cycle, then a blackout in a dripping pool of his blood.

  When Faudron opened her eyes, she was standing alone in the rain. "And tell the lama not to curse so much," she whispered. "It's a bad reflection on lamas everywhere, or so I've been told."

  ***

  She got back to Rau's place, went to his closet and put on the spare armor. It smelled of the woods, a mixture of campfire smoke and chestnuts. The armor was soft and pliable in spots and she couldn't be sure if it was made that way or was rotting-out. She wasn't sure just what it would protect her against, but she still had her good boots.

  Moren had mentioned something about a cemetery. It didn't make any sense, but it made just enough sense for her to have to look, like those late night calls to Art Bell that sound crazy buy have you checking out the UFO section of the Barnes and Noble the next day.

  She was all set go when remembered the whale and climbed the stairs.

  Boy it smelled. "Hey you. What's the Back Beyond?"

  "We are stealing your past," the whale said. "You are not using it and two things can be at once, like a re-recorded tape."

  "But only one can be heard."

  "Lemme go." It smiled like a pickpocket thief caught and ready with an excuse. It wasn't a whale with brushy teeth. It had fangs like a killer whale, a baby seal eater, a dolphin eater, a trainer eater. "Soon you will destroy yourselves," it said.

  In her mind, Faudron saw flattened-New York. No one talked about it, no one went there, but she saw Rau finding the bathysphere in the ruined aquarium where the blast had rolled it from its display stand by the penguin tank, over the boardwalk, across the beach and into the bay. All this time this thing living there, in an inside place that was larger than the outside that held it. Damn aliens might be anywhere.

  She smacked the side of the Bathysphere. "Go tell the ear-heads to come get you. And stop peeing in there; you're getting it all over the floor. It leaks out the bottom and it's got the whole house smelling like fish."

  Faudron took the stairs two at a time and when she got to the door, she almost wished she had the key so she could lock the door and pretend to lose the key.

  She got to her lawn, wondering why she thought of it as her's, wondering if she just shouldn't get Moren, go see Splinter and take their chances. But he'd said to wait and he must have known it was Moren who's hour might strike on the day of the Triple Moon. The cloud that ate the Space Station, the shimmering people under the island, ear-heads, were all stuck together because something they did broke the night in three. She was furious at Rau for worrying about the whale. It must have sat in there for years, hiding in some E.T. vastness, but she had to go back and get it. Just in a couple of minutes.

  When Faudron went upstairs, Moren was pounding on the door. "Fau, Fau, are you there? Let me out. I feel sick."

  "You're supposed to."

  "All right. Just get me something to eat."

  "You sure you can stand being alone?"

  "Yeah. And get the whale. I can't stand the noise it's making. It hurts my ears."

  "I don't hear anything," Faudron said.

  "Go on. Please. Get me a Coke. We don't have any in."

  Moren's voice was different; maybe it was her choice of words, but Faudron didn't like it. She was tempted to open the door just to get a look at her face but wouldn't be able to shut her in again. Faudron felt so nervous leaving Moren for even a moment but she figured just outside would be all right.

  ***

  She went back to Rau's and the Magic Eight Ball as she called the whale and it's container.

  It wouldn't speak to her. She noticed that the slight odor filling the room was whale farts escaping through some filter. "Mustn't be any fun swimming in your own poo." She looked for an opening but the top windows were bolted on. "Jack ass Rau thinks I have time for this."

  Faudron went to the basement to find a wrench, knowing this was going to be a big, four hour project. She found Rau's laptop. She liked the idea of him online and not fooling with those nasty computers in the corner. Maybe the laptop would help keep Moren busy.

  Faudron stole a moment. From the files, it seemed that Rau recorded everything he said, pretty much. She was just dying to poke around. The password to open them had to be Rau or something or was it Moren? She wondered. She didn't like wondering, but they looked so much alike, always a feint flirtation in the air when they were near.

  She closed the laptop, no, it was wrong to snoop, especially if she didn't like what she found. She'd let Moren do it.

  She went home, upstairs, opened the door a crack and pushed the laptop in, expecting a struggle from Moren but she was cowering in the bathtub, gray-faced, holding her head. "Please let me out. I just want to go to my room."

  "No."

  Faudron locked the door as Moren tried to open it, somehow stronger or heavier than she'd been.

  Moren pounded on the door again, shaking the hinges, making the room echo, far stronger than a young girl should be.

  She cursed like a lama.

  Chapter 23

  Faudron was gone. No point begging any more. Moren found the pain and the
stinging sensation from the dirty plant just outside the door unbearable. It gave off a stink that burned her lungs and she hated it, as if it could think. She had a consuming urge to join the hunt, the very world, all of it was filled with the sound of wolf paws hunting the forest like whales hunting seals.

  Did they not know these walls would not hold her? Would they make her a monster and place her in Jungle Habitat as they'd left the starving baboons? She could picture them still, the very kind of animal that showed you what people could be when you stripped away the asbestos shingles on the houses, took the gas out of the cars' tanks and stopped Fresh Direct from roaming the highways. She'd be worse, never even a day or two off waiting for a full moon. She'd eat whatever opened the door, even Faudron, especially her. Why couldn't it be cancer? You couldn't give people that. And they'd never let her out of here, or Faudron, if they knew that all those green and white pills didn't work at all.

  "Faudron," she whispered, then stepped into the shower, and turned the water on, covering her eyes with one hand for the pain that surely would come before her bones were turned to flame and she washed down the drain into the septic and lay with eels.

  She only got wet.

  She sat on the edge of the cheap, plastic tub so newly cleaned. She looked under the sink for the tile cleaner, found it and checked the label -- bleach-based. She peered under the door and saw the base of the flowerpot. "You ain't so smart?"

  She unwound the wire on the toilet brush and played it under the door until she turned the pot over, the sweet smell of dirt filling her nostrils. She sprayed it.

  In just a few minutes, the wofbaine decayed and the plant died.

  It was not painful at all to change, though everything grew louder. All the color was gone but she saw so clearly and could think faster. She touched the door – metal-framed but screwed into wood and sheet rock. She looked at the claws on her overly long fingers and got to work on the wall. In four swipes, she had a view to the outside world and climbed through the hole.

  Moren closed her eyes as she passed the mirror in the hall, not daring to see what she had become.