Blood and Rain

by Glenn Rolfe

  “So, what, we set up cameras and this shit at the park and somewhere along the side of the road?”

  “I found a pretty sweet spot for us to spend the day. Emerson Lake.”

  “Okay?”

  “When’s the last time you got laid?”

  “What? Since Stacy, I guess.”

  “Well, just off Old Gilson Creek is Emerson Lake. I don’t see any reason why we can’t set the shit up just off the beach.”

  “Outta curiosity, why the lake?”

  “Email I got a couple days ago. Might be nothing, might be something. One of the locals emailed me that she saw something watching her from the trees just off of the sand.”

  “She saw it? But the moon isn’t full yet? I’m callin’ fraud.”

  “Maybe, probably, but if there’s a werewolf in this town, and I think we can both agree that there is, somebody is hiding their full-moon identity.”

  “Okay.”

  “What if that somebody is scoping out their territory?”

  “I like it. I like it.”

  “So…we set up in the spot the girl says she saw this figure, then we hit the beach for a couple hours of sun and bikini watching.”

  “Genius. Cheers.”

  Wes clanged his can to Joel’s. “Drink up, bud. Tonight, on Full Moon Eve, we drink to the monster that’s gonna make us a million bucks.”

  Deputy Clarke saw Ted’s Honda Rebel in the driveway. The black bike, still dressed with saddlebag, told Dwayne Ted was back. He stopped and ran up to say hello.

  “Hey, Ted, what the hell? When did you get back?”

  Ted opened the door and walked back to the couch. He was watching The Howling. “Got back today.”

  “And you’re watching werewolf movies. Of course.”

  “Studying.”

  Oh God. “Well, how was the tour?”

  “Don’t know. Didn’t go.”

  “What? What are you talking about? You left. The show’s been on best of shit for the last two weeks.”

  “I needed to get away for a bit.”

  “Well…where the hell were you?”

  “Dwayne, you’re my best friend. We need to talk.”

  “Oh for Chrissakes, Ted, what is it? More monster nonsense?”

  “Listen, I need to show you some things.”

  Ted got up from the couch and crossed to the little desk next to the TV.

  “Holy shit, Ted. Where the hell did you get that?” His friend held a Glock 9mm identical to his own.

  “Bought it at the gun shop in Hollis Oaks.” He set the gun down and lifted a brown box. “And these are silver bullets.”

  “Silver bullets.”

  “Wolf killers.”

  “Jesus, Ted, listen to yourself. I’ve kept my mouth shut for a long time, but this… You have to get your shit together. I mean, silver bullets? Are you fucking losing it or what? What were you doing for the last two weeks?”

  “They’re my fucking bullets, this is my fucking gun, and I’m not going crazy, Dwayne. Has Joe said anything about Friday night? Huh?”

  “No, because Joe’s not fucking crazy. The craziest thing he’s doing this weekend is closing Emerson Lake at five instead of eight.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe—”

  “It’s fucking stupid.”

  “But I’ve seen firsthand what this thing can do. What this thing will do again if we’re not ready.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” Dwayne went to the door. “Why don’t you go talk to Joe? Maybe he’ll put you up for the next night or two at the station so you don’t have a chance to fucking accidently shoot yourself or somebody else.”

  “Uncle Ted.”

  Alex McKinney and the sheriff’s daughter, Sonya, came through the doorway.

  “Hi, Dwayne,” Sonya said.

  “Hey, Sonya.” Dwayne turned back to Ted. “Don’t go filling these kids up with all of this. Joe will kill you.”

  “Night, Alex. Night, Sonya.”

  “Night, Dwayne,” Sonya said.

  “What was that all about?” Alex said.

  Sonya gave Ted a hug. “How was the tour?”

  “I…I wasn’t on tour.”

  “What do you mean you weren’t on tour?” Alex said.

  “Sit down, you two.” Ted placed himself between the kids and the gun lying on his desk.

  Sonya followed Alex to the sofa.

  “I needed to work out a few things. I told the band to take Bobby in my place.”

  “But your bike was gone, and you weren’t at—”

  “I know. I was looking into some things.”

  “Are you still in the band?” Sonya asked.

  “Sure, maybe, I don’t know.”

  “Well what about this weekend? We’re supposed to see you guys at the Nail?”

  “Alex, I don’t think anyone should be going anywhere this weekend.” Ted didn’t want to tell them any more than he had to. Who knows what Joe would do if his daughter came home talking about werewolves. “This is… Your father knows there’s something out there.”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t had any attacks since that one night,” Sonya said. “Whatever it was is gone.”

  “Unless you think it’s a—”

  “Alex, I’m not saying it’s anything. Call me superstitious, but I know I’d feel better if you kids weren’t out there running the roads Friday night. There are coincidences that just make it seem…maybe this animal feeds in certain areas in cycles. I don’t know, I’m not an expert, but I’m sure your father would agree with me, regardless.”

  “So we need to find something else to do Friday,” Alex said.

  “You need to just stay in, stay home and watch a movie, hang out with your friends.”

  Alex got up. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.”

  “Alex,” Sonya said.

  “I’m not your father, but I don’t really want to find you mauled on the side of the road, either.”

  “Come on, Sonya.”

  “Alex, it’s…”

  Ted let him leave. He didn’t know what else to say without shouting “don’t fucking go out unless you want to get torn apart by a fucking werewolf”.

  Then Sonya waved and shut the door behind them.

  Ted picked up the Glock and gripped the weapon in his hand. He thought it would fill him with a sense of strength and security. Instead, it felt incredibly small.

  “So where was he?” Shelly said.

  “He didn’t say.” Dwayne sat on the edge of Glescoe’s desk.

  “That’s weird.”

  “Has Randy said anything?”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. It sounds stupid.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ted’s convinced the wolfman stories are true. He asked me what Joe’s plans were. Same as Stan Springs.”

  “You starting to believe in monsters?” Glescoe smiled.

  “I’ve always believed in monsters, just the human kind.”

  “So what are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want Joe to laugh in my face. Do you know where Randy is?”

  “He was scheduled to have off today, but Joe called him in.”

  “What for?”

  “I didn’t hear. I think he went to meet him somewhere.”

  Dwayne tapped his fist against his knee and then scooted off the desk. “Call me on my cell if you see Randy. I want to talk to him.”

  Randy Hines pulled up next to the sheriff’s Range Rover. They were parked down the block from Mel’s.

  “Sheriff?”

  “We need to talk.”

  He knew what this was in regards to. He’d been dreaming about it for the last three weeks.
Randy stepped out of his car and joined Joe at the front of the truck.

  “Cigarette?” Joe offered.

  “No thanks, I don’t touch the things.”

  “I shouldn’t either.” Joe exhaled. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  That’s putting it mildly.

  “But I also know how much you love this town. You saw those bodies. You know what we’re dealing with.”

  “But how? I mean, after what you did to it?”

  Joe took a drag and stared at the forest beyond the end of the street. The sun sinking below the treetops burned a fiery, dark shade of red. “Appears I didn’t do my job well enough.”

  “Is it…the same one? Is it possible there’s another…?”

  “I checked the grave. It’s empty.”

  Randy paced between the vehicles and bit his thumbnail.

  “I’ve already been out to see Olson. He’s done a little looking into this problem of ours. I want to show you something.”

  Randy followed Joe around to the back of the truck. Joe reached in and pulled out a metal case shaped like a sword.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Joe flicked the cigarette butt into the dirt and unsheathed the gleaming blade. A flash of the setting sun’s bloody hue caused Randy to squint. “We’re going to finish it.”

  Nick Bruce was sicker than he could ever remember being in his life. Death had knocked on his door a dozen times since he finished the second steak from Jenner’s. Relief came in minute spurts when he would faint from the pain, but as if the physical pain weren’t enough, his nightmares were even worse. His mind had shown him things over the last six or seven hours that he could never have even come close to imagining on his own.

  In his fever dreams, he was chased, hunted and haunted by an animal with very sharp teeth and razor-blade claws. He’d been killed. He’d been slaughtered, and then forced to watch the large animal chew through his dead carcass. Sometimes he was spared the ability to feel the beast gnawing on him, but in most of the nightmare blasts, he felt every bite and every lick.

  In his last dream, it all changed. He became the one doing the hunting. Though, it wasn’t the creature he hunted, but the citizens of Gilson Creek. He chased down the radio jockey Ted McKinney. He cornered Deputy Dwayne Clarke. He stalked Sheriff Fischer and his daughter. He murdered them all. He didn’t just take their pathetic lives, but tore them each apart, limb from limb. And as if that weren’t enough, he devoured every last scrap of torn flesh and lapped up each minuscule drop of blood and fluid. He wasn’t sure of what he’d become in his dreams, but he knew he was no longer just a man. Not even close.

  His eyes itched when he opened them, like the time he had conjunctivitis. There was even a sticky discharge. He wiped the thick wetness from the corners of his eyes.

  His room—silent and black—felt too small, constricting. He swung his legs from the bed and stumbled to the door. The muscles in his thighs and calves were knotted. His entire frame ached from top to bottom. Even his face hurt. And it wasn’t the surface, but what lay beneath. All he could think was that it felt as if his cheekbones and his forehead were swollen.

  The kitchen was dark, save for the light above the stove. His mother wasn’t here. He couldn’t smell her. He wondered how he knew this, but the strange pain in his bones wouldn’t allow him to dwell on it. He needed to get outside. Needed the fresh air. He needed to run.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nick opened his eyes against an impossibly bright light and felt a warm breeze dance across his body. He was stark naked, lying in his backyard, and hadn’t a clue how he had ended up this way. Had he lost a whole night? He picked himself up off the lawn, noticing an instant change in his well-being.

  Not only did he not feel like death, but quite the contrary—he felt outstanding. He heard every chirp from the creatures in the woods beyond his mother’s broken fence, which her boyfriend Jerry promised to fix two months ago. He glanced around at the grass and could see every crimp and curve in each blade that surrounded him. He held his hands out to his sides and flexed. His muscles were hard, taut and strong.

  Nick rose to his feet and noticed his nosey neighbor, Tina Bazinet, staring at him from behind a transparent curtain in one of her back bedrooms. He looked down at his own nakedness and leered back at her. Her mouth dropped, and he could have sworn that he’d also heard the gasp as it escaped past her false teeth. He waved.

  She screamed and ran from the window, disappearing out of sight. She would probably call the police, but what the fuck did he care. Let her. He would be gone by the time they managed to mosey on over here. He had better things to do. The sun was shining high up in the sky, and he felt that he should be out enjoying its warmth and beauty.

  Nick stepped through the back door and found Jerry at the counter, pouring a cup of coffee.

  “Ah…sorry, Nick,” Jerry said. He shielded his eyes and scurried out of the room. “I guess you didn’t know I was here.”

  Nick followed him to the doorway.

  Jerry sat on the couch.

  “Your mom had to go to help her friend Cindy with some errands. She should be back around noon.”

  Nick felt his mouth tighten; then his teeth, protruding from his gums, began to fall to the floor with a series of tiny taps. The taste of blood on his lips elicited an electric charge within him. His labored breaths were loud to his ears.

  “You okay…?” Jerry craned his neck away from the morning show on the television.

  “Jesus, Nick. Your mouth…” Jerry’s eyes went wide, his skin transparent. His heart beat like a conga drum in Nick’s ears.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Jerry stepped and stumbled over the glass-covered coffee table. His mug hit the rug below him with a whispered thud that to Nick sounded like the thump of a book on concrete.

  Jerry fell on his elbow before the television stand. He held his hand up to ward off Nick. The hand quivered. “You, you, you…” he stammered.

  Nick was on top of him in seconds. Jerry’s shriek was interrupted as Nick’s bloody mouth—his jaws now extended, his new teeth dripping crimson—chomped down over the man’s maw. Jerry’s body jerked, his hands and feet flailed in spasms.

  Nick savored the crunch of his mother’s boyfriend’s teeth and bones in his mouth before he spat them to the floor. He rose up and noticed the black daggers at the ends of his fingers.

  There was a mirror in the bathroom.

  His swollen forehead appeared heavy over eyes that were yellowing from the edges inward. The bloody fangs in his large mouth were stained pink. The coppery taste on his tongue only made him crave more. His knuckles were also swollen, shaping his hands into claws. Whatever he was becoming wasn’t waiting for the moon to replace the morning sun. This beast was not chained to the night.

  Nick stepped out into the morning, his changing form naked for the world, or his neighbors, to see. He’d never been so alive. He clenched and unclenched his hands. His body and mind were exploding with cravings, the majority of which were nasty, even vile. He ran across the road and into the woods. He headed toward Emerson Lake, with images of sun, sex and blood playing before his jaundiced eyes.

  Tina Bazinet sat anxiously holding a cigarette in one shaking hand, a loaded shotgun in the other, and awaited the arrival of the Gilson Creek Sheriff’s Department. She had watched out her kitchen window as that pervert next door, Nick Bruce, stood naked in his driveway flexing his hands.

  As she watched him, she realized he didn’t look right. The smile on his face seemed somehow unnatural to her. And his face, especially his mouth, looked funny. Like a kid with fake vampire teeth in his mouth. Complete with fake blood. She felt a malevolent weight to the air suddenly press down on her.

  He crossed the road and disappeared into the woods. That man was going to do something very bad. She wasn’t sure where that
ominous thought had come from, just that it was right. She lit another cigarette and continued to wait.

  Deputy Clarke arrived ten minutes later.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Too much booze spilled around inside of Joel’s head like poisoned sludge. He was grateful at least to find Wes up and at it. The car was loaded. Wes slammed the passenger door and grinned.

  “Coffee, bud?” Joel said.

  “There’s some in the lobby.”

  “That shit?”

  “Hey, it’s free.”

  “And it will make me crap like I just ate a bunch of dead people.”

  Wes walked in past him. “We can hit the Dunkin’ Donuts on our way out. You gonna shower?”

  “Nah, figure my stink will help attract our specimen.”

  “Ha, more like scare it away. Well, man, if you’re ready, grab your shit and let’s get goin’.”

  Joel grabbed his Chucks from the end of his bed and threw them on. “Ready. We are coming back tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, unless you get eaten.”

  “Shithead.”

  They rode in silence. Joel’s excitement from last night crashed into a wall of anxiety. He wasn’t afraid, exactly, but all of the other emotions seemed to be hitching along. Wes’s creased brow and clenched jaw told Joel that his friend was feeling it as well.

  “Is this it?” Joel said. Two four-foot-high blocks of concrete marked the dirt road that appeared to descend into the mouth of the woods.

  Wes turned the car onto the gravel. The faded sign came into sight. Emerson Lake Open Sunrise to Sunset. Lifeguard on Duty. Swim Safe.

  A freshly painted sign just below it read TONIGHT ONLY: BEACH CLOSES AT 5 p.m. NO EXCEPTIONS.

  “Owooo.” Joel laughed.

  Wes stopped the car and reached in the backseat.

  “What are you doin’?”

  Wes aimed one of his cameras at the signs and snapped a photo. “In case we get enough to dedicate the whole issue to our little wolfy.”