Full Wolf Moon (32 page)
The spine hunched upward, the great tail whipped between the beast's haunches and the forelegs contorted inward. The carcass shivered and jerked as though it was freezing as its fur began to cluster. It was sweating below the pelt. The silver hair began dripping off in large, wet clumps.
Bones popped, Doris saw the head round off, almost shrink away from the fur. The ears curled inward and the muzzle shrank, its tough, black skin peeling away. She looked at David, his teeth clenched as he wiped at the disintegrating fur, pulling it away from the emerging face.
As the fur dropped off, Doris saw fresh, pink skin, the flex of human shoulders. Forelegs were now arms. Black-clawed toes now fingers with tender, new quick. The hindquarters stretched out into human legs and buttocks.
All in a matter of minutes. A matter of minutes! Just like at moon rise, when Max had contorted into the beast, he was transforming so quickly Doris could hardly tell where the metamorphosis began or ended. In the blink of an eye, the human can become monster. Or find his way back.
It was Maxwell Pierce who lay before her now. Sluggish, naked. Completely bald, completely hairless. His abdomen still bore the wound, a raw, reddened saucer where Doris had pulled the arrows free. Watery blood seeped from it, but it was already virtually closed, quivering against the cold air.
After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. David rested his hand against Max's fresh, pink scalp, near the old scar.
"Over?"Max rasped.
Doris knelt beside him and picked up his hand. "Over," she said.
Chapter 40
David Alma Curar's Shack
Dawn. Second Night of the Full Moon.
The ropes again. His arms, that seemed so angry and wrenching before, now wrap her from behind in embrace. Doris sighs and leans into his strength. She leans her head back and does not even look at the straining ropes as she opens her hands to let them whip off into the darkness. Arthur's lips are against her ear, and she lets him pull her upward toward the light.
Doris blinked awake, amazed that she had fallen so heavily asleep in the bath water, head bent, arms curled around her knees. Bath water, hot and steamy. All the blood gone.
Max was so deeply asleep on the cot, Doris bathed without concern in the oblong washtub. Outside, she could hear David puttering around, keeping himself busy until she was done and they could change places.
She wanted to linger. She could sit in that tub for hours, as long as the hot water kept coming. But she knew David would be eager to bathe, too. Like Doris, he'd want to wash the blood away like afterbirth. She rose, shivering in the contrasting cold, toweled off and dressed in her familiar skirt and jacket, tucking her hair into the snood. Somehow they all felt new.
Doris checked once more on Max before leaving the shack. He had been so weak that she and David had to bathe him like doting parents. But the weakness was only exhaustion, his eyes clear, the awe of being alive burning beneath heavy lids. Now she looked at her palm -fresh, clean, without a trace of the pentagram- and gave Max's bare head a little pat before walking out the open doorway.
She followed the scent of smoke around the north corner of the shack and found David. In fresh clothing even before bathing, he was burning their blood soaked garb, including her half-vest and arm brace.
"I'll help you change the water before I go," she said.
He turned to her. "Thanks. It'll feel good. Are you sure you don't want to rest, just an hour, before going back?"
"I can't."
"Are you sure there's something to go back to?"
"Yes. Not like before. But, yes, there's something to go back to. I've got to find a way to help those boys."
David smiled. "I think you're making a wise choice. But if something happens to change your mind, you can always come with us."
"When will you be leaving?"
"Max needs to rest until the moon passes, and I think we'll be safe until then. So you have a couple of nights' grace."
Doris smiled. "Old Baldy. Will his hair grow back?"
David shrugged. "Mine did."
"Do you think he's serious? Does he really wants to remain as presumed dead?"
"Yes, he's serious. But I'm glad he has a little time to think it through." David lost his smile, but the affection in his eyes never wavered. "Go on, I can get my own bath water. Those boys need you."
Epilogue
Tulenar Internment Camp
Dawn. Second Night of the Full Moon.
The Report: At approximately 0100 hours, 23 November 1942, internee Joy M. Haku, daughter of Jesse L. and Harriet K. Haku (Family Number 5727), was abducted from Dormitory Two, Block Eight. The assailant broke through the Haku unit window and kidnapped Miss Haku while Mrs. Haku -contrary to curfew regulation- stood outside the dormitory.
Mrs. Haku states she was awakened by the sound of scratching at the door and, armed with an ax handle (since confiscated), left the quarters to investigate. Alerted by the sound of breaking glass, Mrs. Haku re-entered the unit to find the window damaged and her daughter missing.
Mr. Haku was serving his shift with the internee police during this time, and was therefore exempt from the curfew regulation.
At approximately 0500 hours, 23 November 1942, Joy Haku's remains were located one-quarter mile south of the camp on the east face of the hill locally known as Junction's Peak. Cause of death: Massive internal bleeding produced by severe trauma to heart, lungs and liver.
/ / / /
The pounding on the Takeis' dormitory door began barely an hour after Andrew and his mother had finally fallen asleep. Opening his eyes Andrew's only movement while his mother threw on a robe. She wasn't a very big woman and he could easily see around her, see the M.P.'s hands gripping their rifles as though they thought his mother might leap at them. Behind them, a Jeep trundled by. A disheveled, frightened teenager -Andrew knew him! He was Endo!- was stuffed in the back seat between another pair of soldiers.
His mother understood what was happening before Andrew. He could hear it in her voice, iced over with dread. "No. You can't have him. You can't have him!"
The soldiers shoved upward, shoved past her, and were heading toward Andrew even as he rushed to sit up. Startled, he forgot about his bandaged arm and set his weight against the stitches before yelping with pain. The soldiers stiffened as though he had threatened them, and pointed their guns at his chest.
"What are you doing, are you crazy!" Mrs. Takei screamed.
With one soldier keeping aim, the other jerked Andrew to his feet and ordered, "Hands up."
Dazed, Andrew obeyed as the soldier patted down his sides and inner thighs.
"Stop it, you'll hurt him, can't you see he's injured! Stop it!"
The soldier who had searched Andrew clasped him by his pajama collar and glared at Mrs. Takei. "Injured as he slaughtered a five-year-old girl." He brought his face near the boy's. "Come on, asshole. Your ride leaves in fifteen minutes."
Terrified, Andrew could barely think. "Ma!"
Mrs. Takei leapt, but the M.P.'s partner pulled her back. The soldier began wrestling Andrew toward the door.
"Ma!"
"That's crazy!" she kept screaming. "That's insane! He was at the hospital when it happened! Something attacked him last night, he wasn't anywhere near the Haku's block! Please!! I was with him myself! Listen to me! Listen to reason!"
But the soldiers made it clear they were listening only to orders. They wrestled Andrew into the waiting Jeep and carted him off to the cargo truck where most of the other Inu Hunters were already handcuffed inside.
An F.B.I. official with a clipboard checked off Andrew's name, then pinned a stiff paper tag, stamped with his family number, on his pajama shirt. The soldiers pushed him over the tailgate and forced him onto the bench. His arm was too swollen and bandaged to handcuff, so they secured his good wrist to the bench instead.
Dazed, he looked at his friends, already lining the two benches. Only last night, every one of them had been proud and arrogant. Even now, two of the boy spat epitaphs at the milling officials outside the truck, but the other five were as pale and stunned as Andrew. Endo was shivering, his face bent low, but Andrew could still see tears. He caught the smell of turpentine and wondered in the disjointed way of trauma when his friends had the time to scrub last night's paint from their hands.
He couldn't remember that much from last night. Mostly, only the eyes of ...that...thing ... and his pals' whoops of victory clipped short by mute terror. Andrew couldn't even remember how he had gotten away. One more handcuffed boy was hoisted over the tailgate.
Through his daze and the growing clamor of parents only now catching up on foot, Andrew made out a voice he recognized, growing nearer, on the other side of the truck's heavy green canvas cover. A woman's voice:
"Mrs. Murato, try to stay calm. You have allies, and I'm one of them. Mr. Sata? Mr. Sata, you're an attorney, aren't you? You can be a big help to your son, to all the boys... Hey, someone watch that man over there, he's about to faint..."
The woman came around to the tailgate and Andrew turned his unfocused gaze toward her. It was Mrs. Tebbe.
"Listen, boys," she was saying, "has anyone let you know what's happening?"
Even Andrew's angry pals quieted. Something in her voice was comforting. Endo managed hoarsely, "We didn't kill anybody."
"I know you didn't."
The conviction in her voice seemed to lift Andrew's heavy veil of shock, if only a little.
"We're going to prison," Endo said, panic lacing his words.
"I know I can't tell you not to worry, boys, but I'm asking you to stay calm. People are already working to turn this truck right back around as soon as it makes the prison gates..."
As her eyes finally moved toward Andrew, Mrs. Tebbe stopped talking ."Andrew...?"
"Mrs. Tebbe. My ma..."
But she didn't seem to be listening. She was looking at his bandages. "Andrew, what happened to your arm? Did the soldiers do that?"
Andrew looked down at the thick, white gauze. He would have answered her, but the sudden rumble of the truck's engine, the vibration rattling the bench, struck him dumb. Prison. He was going to prison!
He was too overwhelmed with terror to notice his heightened senses, to question how he could catch the subtle scent of blue violets through the stench of turpentine and truck diesel. Ma. He looked up, certain he would glimpse her right there, just behind Mrs. Tebbe. But his mother was only now catching up with the crowd, still in her night gown, running with all her might, her robe flapping behind her. Fear and rage so knotted Andrew's stomach that bile rose to his throat, burning away the scent of violets.
As the truck pulled away, his bitten arm began to bleed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
K.L. Nappier is an award winning author who writes in multiple genres. Regardless of how light or dark her plots may be (though she confesses they're usually dark), she's exploring how the human experience can lift us up, give us hope, teach us how.
Kathy's supernatural thriller Full Wolf Moon placed in the Draco Awards' Final Three in the Horror Division, placed in the Kay Snow Awards and was a finalist in the New Century Awards.
Bitten, is also an award winner, placing first in the 2007 Dream Realm Awards' Horror Division.
Her work has been reviewed by the Gothic Journal as "stunning" and "fresh" with suspense that "is razor sharp." Lisa Rau of CBS Network Affiliate WTSP hails Full Wolf Moon as "an intelligent read." The Eternal Night Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Website calls Kathy's work "totally addictive." Tampa Book Buzz says she "pulls you in from the first sentence" and DredTales.com calls her a "stand out in the world of independent fiction."
For more information about K.L. Nappier, her novels and books, visit Kathy's website at www.klnappier.com
Novels by K.L. Nappier
Shadows in the Mist (Out of Print)
Full Wolf Moon Supernatural Thriller
Bitten Supernatural Thriller
Voyagers Paranormal Mystery
Short Story Anthologies (as Contributing Author)
Twisted Tails: An Anthology to Surprise and Delight
Twisted Tails II, Volume 2: Out of Time
Twisted Tails III: Pure Fear
Twisted Tails IV: Fantastic Flights of Fantasy
www.KLNappier.com
A free ebook from http://manybooks.net/
Bones popped, Doris saw the head round off, almost shrink away from the fur. The ears curled inward and the muzzle shrank, its tough, black skin peeling away. She looked at David, his teeth clenched as he wiped at the disintegrating fur, pulling it away from the emerging face.
As the fur dropped off, Doris saw fresh, pink skin, the flex of human shoulders. Forelegs were now arms. Black-clawed toes now fingers with tender, new quick. The hindquarters stretched out into human legs and buttocks.
All in a matter of minutes. A matter of minutes! Just like at moon rise, when Max had contorted into the beast, he was transforming so quickly Doris could hardly tell where the metamorphosis began or ended. In the blink of an eye, the human can become monster. Or find his way back.
It was Maxwell Pierce who lay before her now. Sluggish, naked. Completely bald, completely hairless. His abdomen still bore the wound, a raw, reddened saucer where Doris had pulled the arrows free. Watery blood seeped from it, but it was already virtually closed, quivering against the cold air.
After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. David rested his hand against Max's fresh, pink scalp, near the old scar.
"Over?"Max rasped.
Doris knelt beside him and picked up his hand. "Over," she said.
Chapter 40
David Alma Curar's Shack
Dawn. Second Night of the Full Moon.
The ropes again. His arms, that seemed so angry and wrenching before, now wrap her from behind in embrace. Doris sighs and leans into his strength. She leans her head back and does not even look at the straining ropes as she opens her hands to let them whip off into the darkness. Arthur's lips are against her ear, and she lets him pull her upward toward the light.
Doris blinked awake, amazed that she had fallen so heavily asleep in the bath water, head bent, arms curled around her knees. Bath water, hot and steamy. All the blood gone.
Max was so deeply asleep on the cot, Doris bathed without concern in the oblong washtub. Outside, she could hear David puttering around, keeping himself busy until she was done and they could change places.
She wanted to linger. She could sit in that tub for hours, as long as the hot water kept coming. But she knew David would be eager to bathe, too. Like Doris, he'd want to wash the blood away like afterbirth. She rose, shivering in the contrasting cold, toweled off and dressed in her familiar skirt and jacket, tucking her hair into the snood. Somehow they all felt new.
Doris checked once more on Max before leaving the shack. He had been so weak that she and David had to bathe him like doting parents. But the weakness was only exhaustion, his eyes clear, the awe of being alive burning beneath heavy lids. Now she looked at her palm -fresh, clean, without a trace of the pentagram- and gave Max's bare head a little pat before walking out the open doorway.
She followed the scent of smoke around the north corner of the shack and found David. In fresh clothing even before bathing, he was burning their blood soaked garb, including her half-vest and arm brace.
"I'll help you change the water before I go," she said.
He turned to her. "Thanks. It'll feel good. Are you sure you don't want to rest, just an hour, before going back?"
"I can't."
"Are you sure there's something to go back to?"
"Yes. Not like before. But, yes, there's something to go back to. I've got to find a way to help those boys."
David smiled. "I think you're making a wise choice. But if something happens to change your mind, you can always come with us."
"When will you be leaving?"
"Max needs to rest until the moon passes, and I think we'll be safe until then. So you have a couple of nights' grace."
Doris smiled. "Old Baldy. Will his hair grow back?"
David shrugged. "Mine did."
"Do you think he's serious? Does he really wants to remain as presumed dead?"
"Yes, he's serious. But I'm glad he has a little time to think it through." David lost his smile, but the affection in his eyes never wavered. "Go on, I can get my own bath water. Those boys need you."
Epilogue
Tulenar Internment Camp
Dawn. Second Night of the Full Moon.
The Report: At approximately 0100 hours, 23 November 1942, internee Joy M. Haku, daughter of Jesse L. and Harriet K. Haku (Family Number 5727), was abducted from Dormitory Two, Block Eight. The assailant broke through the Haku unit window and kidnapped Miss Haku while Mrs. Haku -contrary to curfew regulation- stood outside the dormitory.
Mrs. Haku states she was awakened by the sound of scratching at the door and, armed with an ax handle (since confiscated), left the quarters to investigate. Alerted by the sound of breaking glass, Mrs. Haku re-entered the unit to find the window damaged and her daughter missing.
Mr. Haku was serving his shift with the internee police during this time, and was therefore exempt from the curfew regulation.
At approximately 0500 hours, 23 November 1942, Joy Haku's remains were located one-quarter mile south of the camp on the east face of the hill locally known as Junction's Peak. Cause of death: Massive internal bleeding produced by severe trauma to heart, lungs and liver.
/ / / /
The pounding on the Takeis' dormitory door began barely an hour after Andrew and his mother had finally fallen asleep. Opening his eyes Andrew's only movement while his mother threw on a robe. She wasn't a very big woman and he could easily see around her, see the M.P.'s hands gripping their rifles as though they thought his mother might leap at them. Behind them, a Jeep trundled by. A disheveled, frightened teenager -Andrew knew him! He was Endo!- was stuffed in the back seat between another pair of soldiers.
His mother understood what was happening before Andrew. He could hear it in her voice, iced over with dread. "No. You can't have him. You can't have him!"
The soldiers shoved upward, shoved past her, and were heading toward Andrew even as he rushed to sit up. Startled, he forgot about his bandaged arm and set his weight against the stitches before yelping with pain. The soldiers stiffened as though he had threatened them, and pointed their guns at his chest.
"What are you doing, are you crazy!" Mrs. Takei screamed.
With one soldier keeping aim, the other jerked Andrew to his feet and ordered, "Hands up."
Dazed, Andrew obeyed as the soldier patted down his sides and inner thighs.
"Stop it, you'll hurt him, can't you see he's injured! Stop it!"
The soldier who had searched Andrew clasped him by his pajama collar and glared at Mrs. Takei. "Injured as he slaughtered a five-year-old girl." He brought his face near the boy's. "Come on, asshole. Your ride leaves in fifteen minutes."
Terrified, Andrew could barely think. "Ma!"
Mrs. Takei leapt, but the M.P.'s partner pulled her back. The soldier began wrestling Andrew toward the door.
"Ma!"
"That's crazy!" she kept screaming. "That's insane! He was at the hospital when it happened! Something attacked him last night, he wasn't anywhere near the Haku's block! Please!! I was with him myself! Listen to me! Listen to reason!"
But the soldiers made it clear they were listening only to orders. They wrestled Andrew into the waiting Jeep and carted him off to the cargo truck where most of the other Inu Hunters were already handcuffed inside.
An F.B.I. official with a clipboard checked off Andrew's name, then pinned a stiff paper tag, stamped with his family number, on his pajama shirt. The soldiers pushed him over the tailgate and forced him onto the bench. His arm was too swollen and bandaged to handcuff, so they secured his good wrist to the bench instead.
Dazed, he looked at his friends, already lining the two benches. Only last night, every one of them had been proud and arrogant. Even now, two of the boy spat epitaphs at the milling officials outside the truck, but the other five were as pale and stunned as Andrew. Endo was shivering, his face bent low, but Andrew could still see tears. He caught the smell of turpentine and wondered in the disjointed way of trauma when his friends had the time to scrub last night's paint from their hands.
He couldn't remember that much from last night. Mostly, only the eyes of ...that...thing ... and his pals' whoops of victory clipped short by mute terror. Andrew couldn't even remember how he had gotten away. One more handcuffed boy was hoisted over the tailgate.
Through his daze and the growing clamor of parents only now catching up on foot, Andrew made out a voice he recognized, growing nearer, on the other side of the truck's heavy green canvas cover. A woman's voice:
"Mrs. Murato, try to stay calm. You have allies, and I'm one of them. Mr. Sata? Mr. Sata, you're an attorney, aren't you? You can be a big help to your son, to all the boys... Hey, someone watch that man over there, he's about to faint..."
The woman came around to the tailgate and Andrew turned his unfocused gaze toward her. It was Mrs. Tebbe.
"Listen, boys," she was saying, "has anyone let you know what's happening?"
Even Andrew's angry pals quieted. Something in her voice was comforting. Endo managed hoarsely, "We didn't kill anybody."
"I know you didn't."
The conviction in her voice seemed to lift Andrew's heavy veil of shock, if only a little.
"We're going to prison," Endo said, panic lacing his words.
"I know I can't tell you not to worry, boys, but I'm asking you to stay calm. People are already working to turn this truck right back around as soon as it makes the prison gates..."
As her eyes finally moved toward Andrew, Mrs. Tebbe stopped talking ."Andrew...?"
"Mrs. Tebbe. My ma..."
But she didn't seem to be listening. She was looking at his bandages. "Andrew, what happened to your arm? Did the soldiers do that?"
Andrew looked down at the thick, white gauze. He would have answered her, but the sudden rumble of the truck's engine, the vibration rattling the bench, struck him dumb. Prison. He was going to prison!
He was too overwhelmed with terror to notice his heightened senses, to question how he could catch the subtle scent of blue violets through the stench of turpentine and truck diesel. Ma. He looked up, certain he would glimpse her right there, just behind Mrs. Tebbe. But his mother was only now catching up with the crowd, still in her night gown, running with all her might, her robe flapping behind her. Fear and rage so knotted Andrew's stomach that bile rose to his throat, burning away the scent of violets.
As the truck pulled away, his bitten arm began to bleed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
K.L. Nappier is an award winning author who writes in multiple genres. Regardless of how light or dark her plots may be (though she confesses they're usually dark), she's exploring how the human experience can lift us up, give us hope, teach us how.
Kathy's supernatural thriller Full Wolf Moon placed in the Draco Awards' Final Three in the Horror Division, placed in the Kay Snow Awards and was a finalist in the New Century Awards.
Bitten, is also an award winner, placing first in the 2007 Dream Realm Awards' Horror Division.
Her work has been reviewed by the Gothic Journal as "stunning" and "fresh" with suspense that "is razor sharp." Lisa Rau of CBS Network Affiliate WTSP hails Full Wolf Moon as "an intelligent read." The Eternal Night Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Website calls Kathy's work "totally addictive." Tampa Book Buzz says she "pulls you in from the first sentence" and DredTales.com calls her a "stand out in the world of independent fiction."
For more information about K.L. Nappier, her novels and books, visit Kathy's website at www.klnappier.com
Novels by K.L. Nappier
Shadows in the Mist (Out of Print)
Full Wolf Moon Supernatural Thriller
Bitten Supernatural Thriller
Voyagers Paranormal Mystery
Short Story Anthologies (as Contributing Author)
Twisted Tails: An Anthology to Surprise and Delight
Twisted Tails II, Volume 2: Out of Time
Twisted Tails III: Pure Fear
Twisted Tails IV: Fantastic Flights of Fantasy
www.KLNappier.com
A free ebook from http://manybooks.net/
Other books
Imprudent Lady by Joan Smith
Friends of the Family by Tommy Dades
Spiral by Koji Suzuki
The Doctor's Undoing by Allie Pleiter
Forever After by Catherine Anderson
The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop by Gladys Mitchell
How To Seduce A Pirate (The Hawkins Brothers Series) by Alexandra Benedict
The Bradmoor Murder by Melville Davisson Post
Designed for Me: Book One of the Blue Building Chronicles by A. L. Freeman
Webster by Ellen Emerson White