Animal Behavior and Other Tales of Lycanthropy (15 page)

“I’m sorry.” Jack didn’t know what else to say. His mind riddled with various emotions, tugging him in different directions. He grieved for the loss of his wife and brother, swamped with guilt for spending those last moments with his brother instead of saving his wife. He was angry with the woman before him for causing all this, but simultaneously was lustful and aroused by her beauty.
Is this roller-coaster ride of emotions part of her curse? My grief over Karen should outweigh her beauty . . . and yet—

“I can show you the way to the main road, if you’d like,” she said, breaking the silence and snapping Jack out of his inner torment.

“There is nothing left for me out there. Marty and Karen were all I had.”

“That can’t be entirely true.”

“But it is. I don’t have any
true
friends, just a bunch of bottom feeders. I’m stuck in a dead end job with nothing to show for ten years of employment. All because I dropped out of college when my father died.”

“Those are all things you can change,” she said.

“Maybe,” he replied, grabbing her by her right wrist. “Or maybe—” He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips tasted so sweet he could only wonder how the rest of her tasted.

He threw her to the ground.

She looked at him discontentedly.

He didn’t care.

She would be his for those few fleeting minutes. As he fiddled with his belt, he wondered what animal he would become.

* * * *

A horn echoed in the air followed by a voice over the loud speaker. “Game’s over, ladies!”

Marcus Wright stared down at the two blue ink spots in the center of his chest.
Screwed up again
, he thought.

“What the hell were you doing? Sleeping?” asked Squad Leader Harris as he came out of the surrounding bush. “Give you a simple task . . .”

You didn’t fare any better
, he thought.

“How he made it this far I’ll never know,” said another squad member

“The idiot’s been recycled twice. What do you expect?”

“Be careful, he might put a gypsy curse on you.”

Marcus just stood there and let his teammates vent; he was used to it by now. Since they learned of his heritage, diluted though it might be, they teased him with their prejudices.

“A true leader assumes responsibility for his men,” the opposing squad leader said.

“What’d you say? You gotta problem?” Harris said, charging at the man until he was nose to nose.

“Get a room, ladies,” barked drill sergeant Barrow.

“Why do you keep giving us Marcus? We can’t be expected to win if—”

“Maybe you should consider it an honor. Maybe I see what you cannot and I feel you need to be sabotaged in order to even the sides. Or maybe I think you’re just a whining baby who needs his momma. Is that what it is?”

“Sir, no sir!”

“All of you get back to the barracks. Except you, recruit,” Barrow said, eyeing Marcus.

All members of the blue team laughed as they triumphantly walked to base camp, waving the red flag in victory as they did.

“Aren’t you getting tired of this?”

“Sir, no sir,” Marcus answered, stiffening his back.

“You’ve failed the Phase Three test twice already. This is your third squad, and I’m afraid your options are dwindling.”

“I know, sir, I can do better. Perhaps if I was on the blue squad—”

“Afraid not. Face it, you lack that killer instinct, and that’s just something you cannot learn. It’s inherent. Changing squads isn’t going to make a difference.”

“But, sir—”

“Listen, Marcus, I know it sounds harsh, but I’ve been watching you closely. It’s not unusual for a recruit to fail their Phase Three test, but you’re on your way to failing a third time and I believe it is because you’re holding onto your identity too tightly. It’s my job to strip recruits of everything that makes them unique, and rebuild them into soldiers.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“And therein lies the problem. Think it over. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Marcus walked to the barracks at Fort Benning alone and contemplative. The sergeant was right, he knew, but the Army was his only chance at a decent life. The base felt like his one true home since losing his parents to a carbon monoxide leak while away at summer camp. As a twelve-year-old boy, he bounced from foster home to foster home with prospective parents only interested in toddlers and babies. As soon as he was old enough, he enlisted in the Army and finally felt peace.

I have to make this work. I just have to
, he thought.

“If it isn’t the gypsy queen,” Harris said, standing in the doorway with his arms folded in front of his chest. “So tell us, gypsy queen, what did the sarge want?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Where was that backbone on the battlefield?”

“It wasn’t a battlefield.” Marcus shoved his shoulder into Harris, pushing his way through the doorway.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Marcus felt two hands slam into his back, knocking him face first to the floor.

“Now tell me, what did Sarge want? You squeal on us?”

“No,” Marcus said, getting to his feet. “He wouldn’t do squat anyway. Hazing’s part of the training, right?”

“Right,” Harris said. His cronies, Eric and Tony, nodded in agreement.

“If it makes you feel better, Sarge wanted me to think about why I’m here. Says I lack the necessary ‘killer instinct.’”

“He’s a smart man, that sarge. Best drill instructor the Army has.”

“Yeah, you should just quit,” Tony said.

“Or dig down deep for that animal instinct.”

Harris nudged Eric in the shoulder. “You’re such a dumb twit. We said
killer
instinct.”

“What’s the difference?”

Animal Instinct! That’s a great idea
. “Are we finished here? It’s getting late,” Marcus said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Harris said and Marcus walked away from his teammates and headed for his bunk.

As a boy, whenever Marcus would misbehave his father teased and threatened him with a gypsy curse, but always with a smile on his face. When his parents died, he learned all he could about the gypsy blood running through his veins. It was the only way he knew to honor his father and to keep his memory alive. Learning about himself and his family tree also comforted him and warded off the isolation he felt in the foster homes. He had an old library book he had checked out and never returned because of being relocated. The book detailed the history of the gypsies as well as their beliefs, and there was one such belief that could help him now. One of the first things Harris had done when Marcus was assigned to their squad was confiscate the book after seeing him read it. Not that it mattered, for he knew every passage by heart and could recite it easily.

It’s worth a try. What do I have to lose?

Marcus withdrew a sharpening stone from his bedside table, sat down with his knife and began sharpening the blade.

“Plannin’ on killin’ somebody?” Harris asked.

“No . . . not someone.”
Yet, anyway.

“Well, you’re not going to need it tomorrow. It’s just the training course.”

“Always good to be prepared. Besides, maybe it will help me with my problem.”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Harris walked away.

“Goodnight,” Marcus said.

When night fell, Marcus snuck out of the barracks and entered the woods, armed with only his knife. In Georgia it was legal to hunt wolves and he knew this undertaking would be daunting, but he had no other choice. Merging his spirit with that of a wolf was the only way he could foresee getting that killer instinct. He searched the ground for tracks, but came up with nothing. He pressed on well into the night but eventually gave up. The forest was as dark as pitch and seeing anything more than ten feet off was impossible. And that was with a flashlight.

Shortly after climbing into bed, exhausted, the alarm went off and a new day began. His morning shower and coffee only stimulated him so much. After so many hours of training, his body craved sleep.

“Come on, recruit, let’s see some hustle,” the sergeant said through his megaphone.

“Just give up,” he heard Harris say from the other side of the twelve-foot wall.

Just a couple of more obstacles
, he told himself as he grabbed hold of the rope and hoisted his body. His arms screamed in protest, but he pushed on. Overcoming the pain, he shifted his body to the top of the platform and lay there.

“Move it . . . move it . . . move it. It’s not nap time, recruit!”

Marcus stood and grabbed the pulley, then slid down the rope. He dropped to all fours.
I can see the finish line. Everyone’s waiting.

“Are you sleeping?” the sergeant asked as Marcus crawled under the barbed wire.

How could anyone sleep with you barking orders?

“Simply pathetic. I can see you gave my question little to no thought, isn’t that right?”

“Sir, no sir!”

“Prove it! Cross that line so we can call it a day.”

Marcus grabbed the dangling rope and swung over the mud pit. His legs buckled as he landed and he fell to the ground, his face displacing mud as it pelted the earth. Laughter erupted.

“You just going to lay there and take it?” the sarge growled.

“Sir, no sir,” he answered, lifting himself out of the mud. It felt as if his body weighed twice as much as he took several steps toward the finish line.

“C’mon, boy!” Harris teased.

“Push it,” said Tony.

As Marcus crossed the finish line, he collapsed once more. Chest tight. Breathing erratic. The sky above him swirled as he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

“Pick him up!” the sarge ordered.

Marcus’s teammates helped him to his feet and stood by his side, escorting him to the barracks under the watchful eye of the sergeant. When the men realized the sergeant hadn’t followed them in, Harris and Tony mercilessly tossed Marcus on his bed.

Marcus said nothing, too tired to complain, and he knew if he said anything smart that would not be the end of it and only invite more trouble. He dragged himself toward the pillow and drifted to sleep.

He awoke to the sound of rain pelting the roof. Moonlight filtered in through the window above his bed allowing his eyes to quickly adjust to the darkness. Everyone appeared to be sound asleep.

I don’t know if it’s worth it
, he thought.
Last night was a bust, and tonight . . .

A howl echoed in the night.

Marcus grabbed his knife and headed outside with little regard to waking the others, the rain instantly drenching his uniform. He ran in the direction he thought it originated from and found tracks several yards in.

He knelt down to determine their freshness.
The rainwater hasn’t pooled too high. These are fresh
.

A low, guttural growl caught his attention. Looking up, he stared into the wild eyes of a gray and white wolf. He could clearly see the outline of the wolf’s ribs.
It’s starving
, he thought.

The wolf lunged and ran headlong at him. Marcus stayed down on his knees, knife at the ready. This was it. Either he became a warrior or a meal; there was nothing else for him.

As the wolf leapt, Marcus leaned back and drove his knife deep into the beast’s midsection. He received the beast’s weight and sliced upward, spilling blood and intestines onto his chest. He fell backward and pushed the wolf’s body off him.

I did it!

Marcus ran the blade up the wolf’s midsection, the neck, and through the jaw. Then went back, slicing the carcass toward the tail. With that accomplished, he delicately separated skin from muscle, being meticulous to keep the hide intact.

With the animal skinned, he undressed and wrapped himself in the hide, wearing it like a hood and cape.
One more step.
He got down on all fours and lapped the water residing in the wolf’s footprint.

A howl forced him to turn around.

It’s working
, he thought as he stared at the ghostly image of a wolf standing over the carcass. Their eyes locked and for the first time, in a long time, Marcus was not afraid.

“Be one with me.”

The phantom image blurred as it ran toward him.

“I’m not afraid,” he said as the wolf leapt and disappeared into his chest.

He dropped to all fours, the animal hide burning his skin as it fused with his own. Pain surged through his body as his muscles contorted; his bones snapped, twisted, and reformed; his fingernails and teeth elongated as his mouth and nose stretched outward. The hairs on his body tingled with life as they intertwined with the wolf’s.

With the transformation complete, Marcus stood on his haunches and howled. The forest was alive. He heard the insects marching, the flutter of a bird’s wings, and the sound of running water from a brook nearly a mile away.

This was life. This was freedom. This was power.

He ran into the night in search of his first victim.

* * * *

Marcus awoke to the sound of snickering. As his eyes adjusted, he made out the shapes of people hovering around him.

“Gives a new meaning to ‘going commando,’ doesn’t it?”

“Good one, Harris.”

“Where am I?” Marcus asked, touching his forehead. He had a splitting headache. “And why am I naked? What did you guys do to me?”

Harris held his hands out in front of him. “Settle down! We didn’t do anything. We found you like this.”

An image of him running through the woods hot on the scent of meat flashed before him. “I must have just gotten really hot during the night. I honestly don’t remember.”

“Regardless, if you’re not dressed in five, you’re gonna be late. And that reflects on the team.” Harris turned away and walked toward the door. The others followed, laughing and giggling like schoolgirls.

A low growl emanated from within, surprising him. “Don’t worry,” he said, staring out the door, “we’ll have our day.”

Without regard for hygiene, Marcus got dressed and joined his team at the obstacle course.

“Since you ladies fail to understand that this is a team effort, and a team is only as good as its weakest member, we’re running the course again,” the sergeant said.

The other guys sighed, obviously preferring a war game to the course, but Marcus didn’t mind. This was his time to shine. He could feel the beast eager for the competition.

“Assume the position, ladies,” the sarge said and everyone in the squad lined up.

The sergeant fired a shot in the air and Marcus was off, instantly getting ahead of his squad on the straight away run.

“Who lit a fire under his ass?” Harris’s voice was unmistakable.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Tony said.

“I’m not letting him show me up!” Eric said.

Marcus hustled through the rows of tires, shimmied across the single rope line across the first mud pit with balance and precision, fearlessly crawled under barbed wire and leapt half-way up the wooden wall and climbed the rest without the aid of the dangling rope.

This is easy. I’m not even panting,
he thought.

Once at the top of the platform, and with the finish line in sight, he turned back to see the rest of his team still struggling.
They exerted themselves trying to match me. Fools!

The sergeant got on his bullhorn. “Are you ladies going to let Marcus beat you?”

It felt good hearing the sarge tease them for a change.

“Don’t be so smug, Marcus. Team effort, remember?”

Right, Sarge
, he thought.
Better wait here and see if anyone needs help climbing the wall
. “Come on, guys.” Marcus watched intently as the men reached the bottom of the platform.

“If that’s not insult to injury, son-of-a-gun is cheering us on.”

“Knock it off, Harris. He’s finally taking this seriously and so should we,” Eric said, grabbing the rope.

Harris wrinkled his brow and narrowed his eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

“The team’s side.”

“Wrong answer!” Harris yanked the rope out of Eric’s hands and shoved him to the ground, and then ascended the wall.

Marcus looked to the sarge, but he obviously couldn’t see the transgression. He locked eyes with Harris. “You rotten, miserable—”

“What are you going to do about it?” Harris asked, pulling himself onto the platform.

“How about I rip your black heart out of your chest and crap it out tomorrow?”

“You’re lucky the sarge can see us from here, ’cause I’d knock you off this platform, you little punk.”

“Don’t stop! Keep moving, else he’ll think it suspicious,” Tony said as he nudged between the two of them, grabbed the rope and swung to the other side.

Harris threw his shoulder into Marcus as he grabbed the rope on the return. “We’ll finish this later.”

“Somebody help me,” Eric said, struggling at the edge of the platform.

“Sorry, I don’t help losers.” Harris swung away.

“Nice friend you got there,” Marcus said, reaching out for Eric.

Eric grabbed his hand. “Damn! What’s with the nails? Trim those things.”

“Sorry,” Marcus replied and hoisted Eric onto the platform.

“Easy! Have you been working out?”

“Not exactly.”

“You near pulled my shoulder out.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“It’s all right, but look at my hand.”

There was a nasty gash in the center of Eric’s palm, blood running down his wrist and dripping away. Marcus looked at his own hand and noticed his nails were longer and tapering to a point.

I’ll just need to be more careful
, he thought. “You ready to finish this?”

“Absolutely.”

“You go first. I’m used to bringing up the rear.”

Marcus trailed Eric all the way to the finish line and even though he didn’t complete the course first, he still managed a far better time.

“This is more like it. Marcus, I’m proud of you,” the sarge said.

“Sir, thank you, sir!”

“And, Harris, don’t think I didn’t notice that little stunt you pulled. Tonight, while everyone else is sleeping soundly, you will be cleaning the mess hall and I’ll be right there watching you.”

“Sir, with all due respect . . .”

“Would you rather I write up a formal Article 15, recruit?”

“Sir, no sir.”

’Bout time you get yours, Harris.

“Tomorrow you’ll be facing off against York’s recruits. I expect a coherent team. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir,” they all said.

“Dismissed!”

As they started walking back toward the barracks, the sarge said, “And, Harris, I’ll be by at lights out for your punishment.”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

After showers and dinner the men strategized, going over the mistakes made during the last war game. As usual, Harris took the lead, but surprisingly saved his finger pointing and criticisms. The decision was made to make one alteration to the original plan: to leave Eric as backup for Marcus.

“All right, so you know the plan and what’s expected from you?” Harris asked.

Everyone at the table nodded.

Harris stared into Marcus’s eyes. “Maybe this time you won’t let yourself be overwhelmed.”

There it is
.
Couldn’t resist, could you?
“I think we’ll manage.”

Sergeant Barrow stood at the door just as ‘lights out’ was signaled and he escorted Harris to the mess hall. Marcus did his best to fight back the snicker, afraid of being forced to join him.

As he lay down, ready to sleep, the night came alive. Each heartbeat of his roommates thundered in his ear. No matter how hard he tried, he could not block out the sound. He still needed to master his enhanced senses. He focused on the pleasing sound of an orchestra of insects outside his window. As the beating hearts faded away, the snoring began.

You rotten . . .
he thought, sitting up.
I’d rather sleep out there under the stars as nature meant.

He caught movement to his right and was amazed at how well he could see in the dark. Eric was fidgeting, scratching the palm of his hand. He noticed Marcus staring and stood up from his bed. Eric’s eyes were wild with madness and a shock pervaded his body. Eric smiled a toothy grin.

It can’t be.

Eric darted off, out the door and into the night.

He looked out the window, up at the full moon in the sky.
The werewolf’s curse. I have to stop him. He’ll ruin everything. But why haven’t I changed?

There was time to worry about that later. He had to follow him. With his new senses, tracking was easy. He followed the musky scent deep into the woods, away from the barracks.

“Grrrr!”

Marcus stared into the eyes of the largest wolf he had ever seen and couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he looked like.
Now that’s interesting. No tail.
He remembered reading that men disguised as wolves lacked tails. Sometimes it was the only way of knowing if one was dealing with a werewolf or not.

The wolf took a step forward.

“Easy, boy,” he said.

Another step, followed by a low, guttural growl.

“If that’s how you want to play it.” He could feel the wolf inside him itching for a fight. To prove its worth, prove it was alpha.

The change was less painful this time, almost enjoyable. In beast form, he stood on his haunches, extending his arms out to the side, claws at the ready. He howled at the moon. The werewolf before him scrunched down, lowered its head and ears, and whimpered. Its eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

That’s right, beast, cower before me.

The wolf slowly approached him, circled around his feet then lay before him.

If it wasn’t for his scent, there’d be no telling this was Eric. There doesn’t seem to be any trace of his personality, just a wild beast obedient to me. Oh the possibilities.

He barked an order and Eric stood on all fours, then darted off toward the mess hall.

How is it I have all my wits and complete control of the change, yet Eric doesn’t?

Marcus headed back toward the barracks, still contemplating.
The werewolf’s curse. It must be real and must only pertain to second generation. A single scratch is all it takes.

He had an idea, one that would turn the tides on Harris. As he passed the mess hall, Eric was in place, ready to distract Harris and Sergeant Barrow should they finish before him. If he was to pull off his plan he needed time and stealth. Entering the barracks, Marcus proceeded to delicately scratch his sleeping roommates. None awoke to his touch. He could picture the slaughter, every wall decorated in crimson if one of them woke up prematurely and sounded the alarm. He’d have to fight his way through, and where would he go then?

With the deed done, he transformed back into a man and signaled for Eric. Still in wolf form, he entered the barracks and lay beside Marcus’s bed, keeping to the shadows.
We’ll be the perfect platoon
.

Morning came fast, and after breakfast it was time to face the blue squad.

“This is the last war game before finals. Show me what you’ve learned, ladies,” Sergeant Barrow said.

“All right, everyone take your places,” Harris said and the squad looked to Marcus.

He nodded for them to obey. Harris stood there dumbfounded as the men carried out their orders.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked.

Marcus stepped toward him, getting in his face. “You’re not the big dog around here anymore.”

“We’ll see about that.” Harris headed off to join the others.

Marcus smiled, pleased with himself and his plan. He was surprised to find the men already falling into place. It was instinct. Never in his life did he have this much confidence, this much respect.

Blue squad’s trying to end this early
, he thought, catching their scent.
They’re relying too much on past experience
. A slight rustle in the bushes off to his left confirmed his suspicion. He took a knee, aimed and fired.

“How the—” someone shouted.

“You know the rules, come out of there.”

“Two more to the right,” Eric said.

The man Marcus hit walked out of the brush, a bright red stain in the center of his goggles.

“No wiping!”

“No duh,” the man said, then walked away.

He’s out. Now for the other two
. Marcus sidestepped toward Eric.

“Can you pinpoint their location?” Eric asked.

“Not quite. If they’d just move . . .”

The distinct sound of the nitrogen-powered paintball gun gave their location away, but Eric was in the line of fire. Marcus acted quickly, pushing Eric behind an aluminum wall, then took a knee again. Another paintball was fired. He leaned to his left and the paintball missed its mark. He fired two shots of his own.

“What the . . . . How was that . . . . Must be cheating!” The two men walked out from behind the brush, each sporting a red stain on their chest.

As if that’s the only way you guys could lose, right? You’re not even worth it. Go cry to Momma.

“Excellent work,” Eric said.

“Thank you. Let’s see if the others can claim victory for us.”

The men didn’t disappoint. Within the hour the blue flag was captured and brought to the red team’s side, Harris the only casualty.

“Marcus, I’m proud of you. You’ve shown tremendous improvement,” the sarge told him afterward.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Harris, I expect you to be less overzealous tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Harris sounded defeated.

“All of you, fine work. Let’s call it a day. Tomorrow we see who becomes a man.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Nothing could bring Marcus down from his high, not even Harris’s persistent whining as to why the others were hovering around Marcus rather than him. Seeing Harris shunned as he was amused him. He thought about converting Harris, but his men had done a fine job, and tonight was the last night for the full moon.

Tonight they feast.