Lovers of Legend (2 page)

We found two seats on one of the three couches and were joined by about two dozen other people, among them a lot of nervous and excited kids. Outside I heard the faint sound of raindrops on the windows. The storm had finally come. There was ten feet between the front of the couches and the hearth, and Mr. Patterson stepped into that space with a clipboard in his hand.

"It seems we have a lot of shy people because no one signed up," he told us. There were a few nervous laughs and the children whimpered in disappointment. "But in these emergencies I have just the tale to tell myself. It's about this very lodge and the woods around the cabins." He gestured to someone behind the chairs and couches, and the lights were flicked off. The only light came from the glow of the fire. Mr. Patterson set aside his clipboard, took a small glass of alcohol from one of his employees, and stood in front of the fire. His front was covered in darkness, and his shadow stretched out in front of him toward us. He deepened his voice and it echoed around the cavernous lobby. "What I'm about to tell you is a true story."

Greg snorted. "Yeah, right," he commented. Everyone around us shushed him, including me, and Greg sulked over his food.

Mr. Patterson continued. "This is a story about the beast of the woods, and dates back to a time long ago, long before I acquired the lodge. A young man arrived one stormy night without money and his car on its last leg. He pleaded for a room in which to stay, and the owner granted him one of the unused cabins. Cabin thirteen." I stiffened. That was right next to our cabin. Even Greg paused mid-bite and whipped his head up to stare at Patterson. "The man was as pale as snow, and the owner asked him if he needed a doctor. 'No doctor can help me' the young man replied, and hurried to his cabin. That night, at midnight, the other cabin renters heard terrible sounds from cabin thirteen. It was as if the man was tearing the walls and floor apart with his bare hands. The cries of the young man were horribly mingled with that of an animal. They rushed to the lodge and huddled around the fire, as we are doing now, and complained to the owner. The owner took the bravest men and their guns, and they made their way to cabin thirteen. They found the door ajar and the cabin destroyed. Nothing was left untouched, not even the carpet tacks. The man was gone. All that was left were bits of torn clothing strewn about the room. The men found bare footprints in the ground in front of the porch, and they followed the tracks to the edge of the woods behind the cabins. As they followed the trail they noticed the feet changed. The twos melded together and the feet stretched and thinned. They flashed their lights on the trail and saw it was no longer a man they followed, but some wolf creature."

"Did it jump out and kill them?" a boy of six asked our host.

Mr. Patterson chuckled. "Not quite. As they were trying to decide whether to follow the tracks or return to the lodge three cars crested the hill and parked in front of the lodge. They were state police cars, and the group of men went to meet them. The captain in charge told them a terrifying tale about what brought them so high up in the mountains."

"Somebody didn't pay a parking ticket?" a man spoke up. A nervous giggle rippled through the crowd.

"No, a murderer had brought them to the lodge. He'd killed several people in the valley below here. Their deaths were horrible. He'd torn them apart with his bare hands and eaten parts of them." There were gags of disgust from the audience and Greg nearly lost his apptetite. "The officers had followed his trail along the road that led to the lodge. As they were speaking to the men one of them glanced at the cars in the parking lot, and his eyes fell on the one the stranger had come in. 'Who's that car?' he asked the owner. 'A young fellow who just came up here,' the lodge owner replied. The captain led the men over to the car and flashed a light inside the vehicle. The interior was splattered with blood!" Mr. Patterson swung around toward the fire and tossed his drink into the flames. The fire roared up the chimney and lit the area in front of the couches as bright as day. Children screamed and women shrieked. Greg dropped his plate when someone knocked into the back of the couch.

The lights flicked on and Mr. Patterson stood there with his empty glass and a broad smile on his face. "Neat story, isn't it?" he asked us.

"You could have killed us all with that fire!" one man commented.

Mr. Patterson shook his head. "No chance. This hearth is built of good stone and I've thrown enough fuel in the fire to know how much I need," he explained.

"But you didn't finish the story!" a small boy spoke up.

"Yes, finish the story!" a woman pleaded.

"Not until we get this mess cleaned up," Mr. Patterson commented as he indicated Greg's spill. An employee was called and it turned out to be the woman from before. Greg helped her pick up the food and I noticed the woman glanced at Greg a few times trying to catch his eyes, but he kept his gaze to the floor. When the food and floor were clean everyone took their seats and the lights were again shut off. Patterson stood before us sans glass. "When the men and officers saw the blood their own ran cold, and the captain turned to the owner. 'Where is this man?' the captain asked him. The owner shook his head. 'We don't know where he is. He tore up his cabin and ran into the woods,' the owner explained. 'Show me,' the captain demanded. The officers followed the owner and the other men to the trail, and they shined their flashlights on the footprints. The captain took a few cautious steps up the trail, but shook his head. 'There's no way we'd find him tonight. We'll look for him in the morning,' he told his men. They stayed at the lodge and the next morning they scoured the trails. The footprints led them far into the woods, up beyond where anyone goes nowadays. They lost the footprints when they disappeared into the brush. After several days the officers were forced to give up the search, and left. Years passed, but nobody was able to forget about the strange young man. Over the decades rumors of strange sightings occurred. People swore they saw a large shape flitting through the trees behind the cabins, or they met a stranger on the trail that they never saw at the cabins. Even to this day there are still sightings of the stranger, and sometimes, after a rain like this one, you can find his tracks in the mud. They lead around cabin thirteen and sometimes the tenants of the other cabins here a scratching at their doors. Whatever you do, don't answer it."

A woman derisively snorted. "How can he still be alive after so long?" she incredulously asked him.

Patterson's lips curled back in a strange smile. "Because, miss, this man wasn't a man. The reason no doctor could help him was because he'd been turned into a werewolf!"

Some of the smaller children squealed in play fear and the adults laughed at their antics. The lights were turned on for the final time and the terrifying atmosphere was expelled from the lobby. All was well and sane in the world.

Chapter 3

Some guests stood and mingled again. Mr. Patterson happened to move close beside us and delved deep into conversation with one of the lady guests.

"Was that story really true?" she asked me.

"Well, the previous owner told it to me like it was true, so I tell it to my guests like that," he replied.

"But have there been any recent sightings of this werewolf?" she wondered.

Patterson rubbed his chin and looked off in the distance in thought. "There was a young couple a few years back staying in cabin thirteen who swore something scratched at the back of the cabin between the two beds, but we didn't find any footprints. Of course, that was a dry, windy summer so not even a beetle could leave a trail for very long," he pointed out.

"And is anyone in cabin thirteen?" she inquired.

"Not right now. I don't let it around the full moon. I used to, but some people became so nervous about their room that half of them always wanted to change, so I gave up giving it at all. It's let out again two days after the full moon," he admitted.

"So you don't think it's real?" Greg spoke up.

"Well, I don't say it is, and I don't say it isn't, but it does keep some of the wilder kids from running out at night when they should be in bed," he replied with a chuckle.

"So would you stay out in the woods on a full moon?" Greg persisted.

"No, I wouldn't, but not just because of the story. Werewolves are part of folklore, but there are wolves in the area and hikers have come across their food, or what's left of it," Patterson told us. "I'd like my guests to stay inside so they don't become that food."

"Are your employees allowed outside after dark?" Greg wondered.

"I'd rather they not go out, but I don't lock them in their rooms at night to keep them in," Patterson replied, obviously annoyed with Greg's questions. "If you'll excuse me, I have other guests to attend to." With that he hurried off to other groups.

"Why did you antagonize him?" I asked Greg.

He shrugged. "I don't know why he was so sore," he argued.

"He's sore because it sounded like you were going to go out and get yourself hurt," I pointed out.

Greg laughed nervously and shook his head. "Nah, I'll be a good boy and stay in bed. Promise, Mom," he teased.

I nodded at the windows. The rain poured over the glass in heavy sheets. "You'd better or you'll end up a wet rat."

Greg stood, stretched, and faked a yawn. "Well, after that long drive and all that food I'm ready to hit the hay."

"It's barely ten. You usually got to bed at midnight," I reminded him.

"Not after that long a drive. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. You coming?" he persisted.

I rolled my eyes at his childish behavior. "Fine, I'll come, just try not to snore," I commanded him.

We stepped outside and our coats were instantly soaked. The rain pelted our heads and we rushed past the cabins to our little abode. Even in such weather I slowed down to look at cabin thirteen. It looked just like any other except for the lack of car and lights. I thought it'd be exciting to stay in such a spot tomorrow night. That was the time of the full moon.

"Hurry up!" Greg called from our step.

I rushed inside after him and we took turns dressing in the bathroom. I wouldn't even go that far with him, and as things were going we weren't bound to hit that point any time soon. It was far enough that he saw me in my short nightshirt. Greg slipped into bed and a few minutes later I heard the sounds of him snoring. It was going to be a long night, but I made the best of it. Stuffing my pillow around my ears gave me enough reprieve to fall asleep.

At ten minutes till midnight I was awoken by a soft rap. I sat up and, after figuring out where I was, looked at the door. "Hello?" I called out. No answer. I glanced at Greg's bed, and my eyes widened when I noticed it was empty. He was gone.

I swept aside my sheets, slipped my bare feet into my shoes, and peeked my head outside. The rain had stopped and the ground had turned to mud. Two sets of tracks left the porch and headed toward the lodge. I glanced toward the lodge and my heart skipped a beat. There was a dim light in cabin thirteen. My suspicions overrode my fear when I noticed one of the sets of footprints led to the porch. That was the pair that had come from our cabin. The other set had come from around the side of our cabin in the direction of the woods.

"Hello?" I whispered to my mystery knocker. No answer. Whoever it was probably slunk back to their own cabin.

I grabbed a flashlight and crept over to the infamous cabin. The shades were pulled in the front, so I tiptoed around to the rear. The window that stood between the two beds was ajar. I sloshed through the muck, ducked low against the waist-high window, and listened.

"Oh god," a woman's voice moaned.

"Not so loud," a man's voice replied. It was Greg.

"I can't help it. You're just so good," the woman cooed.

I could just imagine Greg's smirking face. "You're feeling pretty good yourself," he replied.

I'd heard enough. I stood, lifted the window and shone my flashlight into the cabin. On one of the beds were Greg and the woman from the lodge. They were both naked and with how close they were they could only have been having sex. My face reddened, but not from embarrassment. "You ass!" I shouted at Greg.

"What? Ally?" he wondered.

"Don't you dare call me that, and don't you dare go back to the cabin. I'll toss your stuff out to you," I told him.

"But it's not what-"

I'd seen enough not to listen to anything he said. I marched my way back to the cabin, grabbed his bag, and tossed it onto the porch. Then I slammed and locked the door, and plopped myself on the end of my bed. Greg came up to the door a minute later and tried the knob. Wouldn't work. "Ally, come on! It was just a little fling!" he argued.

"Then go back to your fling and finish it. Go back to town for all I care because you're not getting in here tonight!" I shouted back.

"Come on, Ally, we aren't even supposed to be in that cabin. We can't get caught in there," he replied.

"Then sleep in your car," I suggested.

"We can talk this over. Give me another chance," he pleaded.

"No! You're selfish, spoiled, and a womanizing ass! Just go away!" Tears slipped down my cheeks. I'd never been hurt like this before, and to face it far from home made it all the worse. I didn't even have my teddy to hug.