by Terry Yates
Kyler nodded. He wanted to ask which time, but it didn’t seem prudent.
“It was when I told him that it was time to be a soldier again,” Potts said as if reading his mind.
“I remember,” Kyler remarked. “Mrs. Munn jumped up, put her hand on your arm and pretty much begged you to leave him alone…to basically let him out of the army was the way I took it. To be honest, I was surprised you gave in. I half expected you to deck her.”
“I would never hit a lady, Doc,” Potts told him, smiling. “I might cuss at ‘em once in a while, but never hit.”
“I was just saying that it looked…”
Potts cut him off as if he hadn’t heard him. “It wasn’t my arm that she put her hand on…it was my wrist.”
“Your wrist?”
“Yes…and she didn’t just put her hand on it, she clamped down on it…and I mean hard. So hard that I thought she was going to snap it in two.”
“Jesus…”
“Those were my thoughts exactly. She kept gripping it harder and harder. I guess normally, I would’ve pulled my gun and blown someone away who was doing that to me…or at least, pop ‘em one.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I think I was just so stunned by it, that it caught me off guard. I could hardly speak…it hurt so bad.”
“So, it isn’t just me. She’s not just going crazy, she’s…changing somehow.”
“Yeah…and it doesn’t seem to be for the good, either.”
“Do you think that maybe that thing biting her has something to do with it?” Kyler asked. “I mean in the movies, when someone is bit by a…one of those things, they turn into one, too.”
“This isn’t the movies,” Potts retorted.
“Oh, it isn’t?” Kyler shot back. “Then explain to me what grew hair and claws, ate seven or eight soldiers, and just chased us a quarter mile? Sorry, Colonel, but the only place I’ve ever seen werewolves was in the movies.”
“Well…” Potts started. “Just keep an eye on her.
The two men remained silent for a moment, both once again turning their gazes to Opal Munn, who was now swaying from side to side instead of rocking back and forth.
“What’ll happen to Wilbur?” Kyler asked, breaking the silence. “Are you going to court martial him?”
“Nah…it wouldn’t be worth it. He’ll just be told that he’s not made for the army, and they’ll discharge him.”
“Honorably?”
“Sure. He hasn’t really done anything to warrant otherwise. He didn’t disobey orders or run away from battle or do anything to shame the army, per se.”
Kyler wondered if hiding behind his grandmother wasn’t a tad shameful to the army.
“There are just some people in the world that don’t belong in the armed services and he’s one of ‘em,” Potts finished.
“Why do you think he joined in the first place?”
“Who knows…probably the same reason that hundreds of his kind join the army every year. They want to be men. They’ve grown up extremely sheltered or smothered, usually by a dominant female or a whole slough of ‘em. They were never allowed to play ball or tag with other kids, because they might fall down and get a boo-boo. They kept ‘em in short pants way past time. They made ‘em wear hats and sunscreen any time they walked outside and the sun was shining. They remain Momma’s Boy or Granny’s Boy or Auntie’s Boy for the rest of their lives, even after their mother or whoever dies. In a nutsack, they have absolutely no life experience and it’s usually too late to pick it up by the time they hit service age, so they end up petering out. Sure some stay and finish their hitch. Those are usually the ones who end up being okay in life. They made it through six weeks of boot camp without dying and find out that for the first time in their lives, they have muscles, they have some pride, some dignity, and have completely pulled away from their maternal figure.”
“But not Wilbur?”
“Oh no, not Wilbur. He was sent to me just after basic. He’d had it pretty rough in boot camp. Got the old bar of soap in the sock treatment once or twice for not being able to keep up. You see, when one fails in boot camp, all fail in boot camp. It’s not always fair, but it’s meant to turn them into a cohesive unit. One. Not individuals. Why do you think drill instructors are so mean?”
“They like it?” Kyler shot back.
“You’d think so if you’d ever been to basic, but no. The DI’s job is to do exactly what you see them do. You see, in the service, you get kids from all walks of life. Some rich. Some poor. Some black. Some white. Some men and some…women, and its left up to the DI to turn them into a single, solitary unit. How do they do that, you ask? Well, first they shave their heads and put ‘em in fatigues so that they all look alike. Then they have to find one thing that they all have in common and the first thing that they learn they have in common, is a sudden loathing and hatred for their Drill Instructor. Bingo. They have something in common. It gets a little harder after that. The Drill Sergeant then puts ‘em through the paces…makes ‘em run, hike, do pushups, do KP, clean the latrines, almost anything that a normal person would detest doing. And he leaves it up to the unit to make sure that everyone keeps up and each unit has different ways of making someone keep up. They can do it through encouragement or by roughing ‘em up. My guess is that Wilbur got roughed up a lot. They sent him to me over a year ago. I never saw anyone like him. The kid would flinch if someone farted. I figured that if I rode him hard enough, he might grow out of it, but he never did. Pity. He’s a pretty bright kid.”
“There’s another thing I’ve been wondering about, Colonel.”
“What’s that?”
“I wonder where they disappeared to tonight?”
“What?”
“When we stopped at the pass, they weren’t with us. Remember?”
“We went over the hills!” hissed a voice from across the room. It was Opal Munn on top of her hospital table, on all fours, in a crouched position, her long, stringy, gray hair sticking out all over. To Kyler, she looked like Medusa’s ugly sister. Her wide eyes were a shining black and she smiled another one of her new hideous smiles.
“What are you doing, Miss Munn?” Kyler asked her as if he were talking to a child.
“We went over the hills!” she hissed again. “Just like…him!”
“Him?” Potts asked, not daring to take his eyes off of her.
“That’s how he got your soldier boy, Soldier Boy!” She let out a loud cackle, amused at her own little joke.
Potts took a step forward. “What?” he asked, folding his arms. He looked like he was inviting her to step outside.
“He outfoxed you…the wolf outfoxed you!” She cackled again.
“Keep it down, Opal. There are people trying to sleep here,” Kyler told her in his best doctor-to-patient voice.”
He couldn’t believe that no one was even stirring at the sound of her loud voice. He didn’t expect to hear anything from Michael or Lauren, who had both taken the diluted morphine once he saw that Joe had recovered all right, but the rest of them were simply too exhausted to notice. They all had dry clothes now and sleep was taking them over. He knew how they felt. He’d much rather be sleeping than listening to crazy Opal Munn right now.
“I looked into his eyes!” she told them. “Last night, I looked into his eyes! And do you know what I saw? Hmm?
“No, what did you see, Miss Munn?” Potts asked.
“I saw immortality.”
“Immortality?”
“Yes!” she squealed, rolling onto her back and clapping her hands like a happy five-year old.
Potts glared at her for a moment. “Maybe, I oughta just toss you out into the hurricane…if it’s here yet. You can enjoy it with your friend.”
She rolled back over and looked him dead in the eye, no longer smiling.
“Or maybe I’ll just toss you out there with him…Co-lo-n-e-ll.” She pronounced colonel in the French dialect, almost daring him to come at her.
Potts put his hand on his pistol, making Kyler extremely nervous. “Now, Colonel,” he said, trying to play to Potts’ ego, “let’s not get carried away. She’s an old woman…”
“Old woman!” Potts exclaimed. “She’s way past an old woman, Doctor. She’s…”
“A crazy old woman, yes, but you can’t go around shooting crazy old women,” he whispered. .
“I’m not crazy!”
Jesus, how did she hear that? He had been almost inaudible when he had said it. The two looked at Opal again, who was now lying on her back again, her eyes closed, as if she were talking in her sleep. “We shall see...” she said softly, her voice trailing off. “We…shall…see…” And then she was asleep, her breathing was rapid at first, but then finally slowed down and turned into a snore. Kyler and Potts stood dumbfounded.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joan of Arc…what was that?” Potts asked Kyler.
“Damned if I know, Colonel, but she’s really beginning to scare the shit out of me. What can we do about her?”
“I guess the only thing we…you…can do, is keep an eye on her. I’ve got to go found out what’s going on in the…” Potts stopped in mid sentence and smiled.
“Real world?” Kyler finished, also smiling.
“Yeah…real world.”
“Colonel, as a doctor…and right now, your doctor…I’m…”
Potts looked at him as if he knew that Kyler was about to say “I’m ordering you…”
“We’re going to both be useless tomorrow if we don’t get some sleep. It’s a medical fact, Colonel. The brain needs rest as much as the body does, so let’s both get some rest, huh?”
Potts looked at him for a moment, and then nodded his head. He was so brain fried right then that just the word “sleep” made his eyelids heavy.
“All right,” he answered, but I’m still posting guards at the door every two hours, just in case…”
“That’s fine, but for right now, let’s see if we can find a couple of blankets to get under. It’s a tad cold in here for my taste.”
“I still don’t like leaving Opal there without someone to keep an eye on her.”
“Come on, Colonel,” Kyler said, “she’s just an old…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Potts gave him a “you’ve got to be kidding me” look.
“Well, I think she’s probably good for the night,” Kyler said.
“Yeah, but if she’s batshit crazy now, there’s no telling what she’ll be like tomorrow,” Potts interjected.
“Let’s worry about that tomorrow, shall we, Colonel? Let’s worry about everything tomorrow. I think its been proven that this place is hurricane and werewolf proof. Hopefully, we’ll all be rescued tomorrow and we can put these last two days behind us.”
With this, Kyler walked over to an empty chair, sat down, and closed his eyes. Within two minutes, he was fast asleep, leaving Potts as the sole conscious person in the room. The doctor had been right. He did need rest. He had done all that he could do for the moment. Tomorrow, they could continue to search for communication, food, more medicine, and anything else that they might need for an extended stay. If the hurricane came and went tonight, they would probably all be rescued tomorrow. Boy, Potts sure had some explaining to do if they were.
Potts pulled a chair into the corner of the room. He didn’t want that nutty woman sneaking up on him from behind. He sat down in the chair, and then slid down a little, so that he was leaning back. He closed his eyes and tried to think of what the next day might bring, but he didn’t get the opportunity. He had fallen asleep in less time than it had taken Kyler.
“Hopefully rescued,” he muttered in his sleep.
CHAPTER 39
Kyler sat up quickly. All around the infirmary, the refugees were milling about. He looked at his watch. Six forty-five. He’d been dreaming about high school, only he was the same age that he is now, and he’s getting ready for the district meet, and he knows he’s not in shape, but he’s not sure why. He’s getting ready to run the eight-hundred meters, then realizes that he’s forgotten his shorts, and is standing over the starting block in nothing but a jock strap and track spikes and all of the girls are watching, even though some of them he never even went to school with. Why couldn’t dreams just make sense? Why don’t they just say that you feel like reliving your glory days of high school, but you know you can’t because you’re thirty-one now and it doesn’t make any sense to go back. And why does he always have to end up naked somewhere, or using the bathroom and looking up to see that he’s on a toilet in the middle of a mall with everyone watching? And knowing that all of these scenarios were coming out of his own head didn’t make things any easier.
He watched the group as they moved silently about like vampires that are just waking up, or fatigue wearing zombies who just bump into one another all day. Kyler knew this action to be the camp wake-up routine. Every morning at camp, one person wakes up and starts to silently move about, followed by another, then another, then another, until everyone is up and ready within minutes of each other.
The only voices he really heard were the O’Hearley’s, who were all speaking quietly to each other. He saw Pvt. Hawkins asleep on one of the tables, FranAnne on another. They had been on guard duty, so they were still sacked out. He looked to his left and saw that Potts was still asleep in his chair, snoring loudly. Kyler stood up and stretched. He had to pee. They all had been using a restroom down the hallway. As he made his way to the door, it opened and in walked Zora. She stopped suddenly when she saw him.
“Good morning, Doctor,” she said.
“Good morning, and it’s Richard…please.”
Both of them were trying to slyly cover their mouths while they spoke. They hadn’t been fortunate enough to find toiletry utensils last night, no toothbrushes, no soap, no deodorant. Nothing. There had to be some somewhere. It looked like this place was made for people to either live in or at least stay for extended periods of time.
“How did you sleep? She asked him.
“Okay, I guess, even though I feel like I barely even closed my eyes,” he answered, rubbing his neck. It was stiff from having rested it on the back of the chair for the last several hours.
“Getting ready to…how do American doctor’s say it…make your rounds?” she asked, smiling broadly. Kyler couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Even first thing in the morning, she was ravishing with her wild black, wavy hair flying out in all directions and completely covering up one eye, making the other one seem so much bigger and browner and brighter.
“Yes…gotta make the rounds,” he stuttered, ending with a dumb guffaw, which actually sounded like “guffaw” when it came out of his mouth. “But…I…uh…have to make a quick stop first.” Actually he had to piss like a drunken burro. “It looks like Lauren’s all right for the moment, unless she keeps playing with her new best friend, and loosens those stitches.
They both watched as Lauren and Joe both sat on the floor, her arm around him, and both seemed to be sharing a knowing smile. It didn’t seem to bother either of them that they could make a patchwork quilt with as many stitches as they had between them.
He looked over at Michael Blum who was awake and sitting on the edge of the table, once again talking to Zack Olsen…and both were smiling. Kyler saw that Rob Olsen was still sound asleep on his table. Something seemed strange…different. He shook the cobwebs from his brain and scanned the room again. Opal and Wilbur Munn weren’t in the room, but he couldn’t honestly say he cared. He could use a break from the “heebee geebees”. Then it dawned on him. He didn’t see Samantha Gould. He spun around toward the table that she had been lying on. It was empty. Gringo and Sylvia weren’t there either.
“Where the…”
Before he could finish his sentence, a pair of soft, feminine hands came from behind him, wrapped themselves around his forehead, and covered his eyes.
“Guess who?” came a high squeaky voice.
He turned around
quickly to find himself face to face with Samantha Gould, who was not just smiling, but beaming. The bandage was firmly on her neck. He could see a small, dried bloodstain near the center of the bandage, but other than that…nothing. Standing on each side of her, were Gringo and Sylvia, their smiles as big as Samantha’s.
“Can you believe it, Doc?” Gringo asked, stepping up and clapping Kyler on the shoulder.
“Well, no…but…”
“It’s a miracle, Doctor Kyler!” Sylvia exclaimed taking both of his hands. “Just look at her!”
“I feel wonderful!” Samantha sang loudly, spinning around like a woman who had just bought a new dress and wanted to show it off. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on whom you asked, she had found some safety pins to button up her fatigue top.
Kyler turned to Zora, who had the same puzzled look on her face that he did.
“Yeah! Look at her, Doc? She’s running, jumping, and dancing around! It’s all I can do to make her sit still! Ain’t it somethin’?” Gringo was almost like a giddy child who’d found out that his puppy hadn’t been run over after all. His face told Kyler that a tremendous burden of guilt was quickly falling from off his shoulders.
“Yeah…yeah, it is.” Kyler tried to force a smile, but all he could think of was Opal Munn who had also been bitten by the werewolf, and just look at how she was turning out. “It’s…uh…great,” he muttered. He reached for Samantha’s neck. “May I?” he asked.
Samantha’s hand shot to her neck with lightning speed, her smile quickly disappearing. She looked as if she were afraid that if he uncovered her wound and saw the big gaping hole again, her symptoms would return.
“I really need to look at it, Miss Gould,” he told her, giving her his best doctor smile. “We want to make sure it doesn’t get infected or anything.”
He remained smiling as he gently removed her hand from her neck and unfastened the bandage. He pulled the bandage back a little. He didn’t want everything in her neck to spill out onto the floor. He looked at the wound and saw exactly what he had been afraid that he might see. The wound was about half the size that it had been less than seven hours ago. Like Opal Munn, her skin was regenerating itself. The thin membrane of skin that had been barely holding her neck together the night before, was growing thicker, and the hole that one of her neck muscles had been poking through, was completely sealed up, the only sign that there had been anything there at all, was a small, round, red spot.