Werewolf Moon Ch. 05

A warm breeze rippled through the golden grass of the clearing, rolling like the surf at the seashore until it spent itself at the edge of the trail. The dull orange disc of the sun hung low in a cloudless blue sky; the trees cast long shadows in sharp relief. The day teetered on the brink between late afternoon and early evening.

On the other side of the path, to her right, the green waters of Lake Winslow lapped serenely at an earthen bank.

Brianna Lang wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was a gorgeous day, except for the heat and the humidity. The light wind offered a little relief, but she had worked up quite a sweat climbing the hilly trail to the wilderness area. She'd made her trek in about forty-five minutes -- just about what she had estimated. No sheriff's deputies or park rangers had impeded her progress. The forest was almost eerily silent, save for the insects and a few birds. She slid her backpack off her shoulders and opened the flap so she could get to her instruments -- and her gun, if need be.

She could see the parking area on the other side of the glen through a break in the trees. She shivered. As a little girl, she had spent many happy hours in this park, picnicking with her family, taking walks on this very trail with her father.

Now these once friendly woods seemed somehow menacing, foreboding.

Last night, an unholy beast had stalked and killed two young kids in a convertible, and then slaughtered a female ranger in that lot. In all likelihood, the thing had probably been somewhere in this area. In fact......

About twenty feet ahead on the trail she saw an area where the grass had been trampled. She rushed to the depression and bent down, scrutinizing the turf.

There -- on a bare patch of ground. They were unmistakable -- huge, wolf like paw prints, leading away from the parking area back into the woods. Some of the stalks of grass were stained a rusty brown.

Dried blood, most likely.

The creature had passed right through here last night.

Brianna suddenly felt very cold, even in the blast furnace heat of the late August afternoon. She hugged herself and apprehensively glanced around. Well, this was something, anyway. If they could backtrack these paw prints, maybe they could find the creature's den -- if it had one. Maybe bring in some bloodhounds. She wasn't about to do it herself! She realized how alone she was up here -- and how vulnerable.

And then, suddenly, the forest grew deathly still. A robin cut off its freeform song in mid-warble, and even the insects ceased their buzzing. Brianna felt gooseflesh pucker all over her body.

"It gets dark a lot quicker up here than it does down below. Must be all these trees."

She screamed and whirled around.

He stood on the path about ten feet away from her -- and he was naked. He smiled ingenuously at her, leaning against a tree with his arms folded. He was a handsome young man, with wavy chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes; he looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, well-toned and well-hung. Ordinarily she would be gawking in open-mouthed appreciation.

But this was very, very wrong. How could she not have heard him coming?

"Sorry if I startled you, Brianna, but I'm here to help you find what you're looking for."

She felt an icy fist clench in the pit of her stomach.

"How d-do you know my name?" she quavered. "And what do you think I'm looking for?"

He chuckled.

"I have excellent hearing. I was up on a ridge over there this morning when you were doing your preliminary investigation, and I heard them call you by name. Brenna -- Brianna Lang. Pretty name, Brianna. And as for what you're looking for -- well, you're looking for the werewolf."

Brianna's palms were wet, and her mouth was desert dry. "Th-there's n-no such thing as...."

"Oh, but there is!" He closed his eyes and raised his head, and appeared to be meditating. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer blue.

They were amber -- almost yellow. It had to be a trick of the light! Brianna swallowed hard.

"The thing is, people think that werewolves can only change during the full moon. That's just not true; the most powerful ones can change any time they want to -- but they can't help but change when the moon is full."

Now there was no mistaking it. He was changing! His skin had darkened to a shade of mocha and was thickening, like animal hide. His fingernails and toenails had grown into long, razor-sharp talons, and patches of chestnut fur sprouted all over his body. His penis had almost tripled in size and was sheathed -- like a wolf's. Brianna stood rooted in place by sheer terror.

When he spoke again, his voice was a guttural snarl.

"Don't you feel stupid, bitch? Haven't you ever watched a horror movie? You're the airhead bimbo who goes off in the woods all by herself and gets butchered by Freddy or Jason -- or eaten by a werewolf." He bared his teeth, which were now long, bristling fangs. "In the movies, the werewolf always goes for the throat. Not me -- I go for the tits! Especially when I nail a hot babe with a nice rack like yours. And the thing is -- you'll still be alive and watching while I eat them!"

"No!" Brianna quavered, terrified. "Oh, God - no! Wh-why me?" She took a halting step backward, wondering if she shoud run or go for her pistol.

He shrugged, and flashed a fearsome grin. "No reason, really. You have a very pleasant musk - I like the way your pussy smells. It's imprinted in my mind and marks you as my prey....and you do look good enough to eat!"

His muscles began to ripple and bulge, and he was growing taller.

With a shriek of terror, Brianna yanked her .45 out of the back pack, flipped off the safety and squeezed the trigger. The pistol roared and bucked in her hand; the slug caught the changeling in the center of his chest with an explosion of blood, flesh and bone, and knocked him backward. He howled in agony.

Brianna pulled again and again, emptying the clip into his chest with deadly accuracy. The impact of the bullets lifted him in the air and dropped him into the lake with a great splash. He floated face down in the water, streaming blood from eight tightly-spaced exit wounds in his back. The fur faded away; his skin returned to its normal hue.

He was changing back into his human form.

She sobbed with relief. She had done it; she had killed the werewolf! Now they could identify the son of a bitch, and.....

He had stopped bleeding, and the wounds were closing up! 'God, no!' she thought. 'No way he could still be alive!' Every shot had hit its mark.

He rolled over and sat up. His chest wounds were healing rapidly; then they totally disappeared, leaving behind smooth, unmarked skin. He shook his head as if to clear it, and fixed her with a venomous, yellow-eyed scowl.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" he raged. "That really stung! You'll pay for that, bitch -- big time! Your death will be as slow and agonizing as I can possibly make it!"

He was changing again, only much faster now, looking more like the horrifying creature Brianna had seen on the dash cam video. She backed slowly down the trail as she prayed for the first time in ten years.

His muscles swelled to immensely thick proportions. Bones began to elongate and forcibly stretch with a horrible crackling noise, thrusting forward and rupturing through his bleeding skin, and then quickly covering over with new flesh and fur. He was down on his knees in the water, loosing unearthly shrieks of pain. He was growing even taller now, and his chest and shoulders broadened. He was now covered with thick, bristly fur. Then a great shudder rippled through his shaggy body. His eyes snapped open. They were a glowing red now; wild, malevolent -- insane.

The werewolf glared at Brianna and grinned.

She felt a trickle of urine slip from her bladder and stream down her thigh. She screamed in terror, then broke and ran for her life.

"GO AHEAD, BITCH!" he roared. His voice was thick, almost unintelligible. "YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME! I'LL FIND YOU -- I CAN SMELL YOUR CUNT A MILE AWAY!"

Brianna careened down the path, running faster than she had ever run in her life, sobbing in terror. She reached into the pocket of her shorts for her cell phone, and her heart sank when she realized she'd left it in her backpack. A deep, resonant howl filled the forest, an otherworldly, terrifying sound. A chill ran down Brianna's spine. The werewolf!

He was coming!

Brianna kept on running, even though her lungs were on fire. She could hear leaves rustling and branches snapping behind her.

She could hear his paws now, pounding over the ground as he bounded down the path. He was going to run right over the top of her!

'Oh, nononononono! Oh, Jesus -- please don't let this happen!'

The creature leaped on Brianna's back with an ear-splitting roar, driving her to the ground and knocking the wind out of her. She felt ribs crack as his thickly-muscled body crushed her. He sank his long fangs into her shoulder; he picked her up and shook her viciously as she shrieked. Then he flung her across the clearing, ripping away a chunk of flesh and exposing muscle and bone. She landed hard by the edge of the lake and lay there, stunned and moaning.

And then Brianna Lang's world erupted into a paroxysm of unbelievable agony as the werewolf clawed open her back from the nape of her neck to her tailbone with the long talons of his right foot. Her piercing screams shattered the early evening calm. Birds exploded from their roosting places in the nearby trees.

The beast bent down and tore off the pieces of her bloodsoaked shirt and cutoffs, then discarded them. His claws had severed her bra strap and cut through her panty briefs, so he stripped them off as well.

Then he slowly dragged the long claw of his index finger over the bridge of flesh between her cunt and asshole, cutting deeply, slicing it open. Brianna managed only a gasp of agony this time, and fresh blood gushed out onto the mud and quickly formed into a puddle.

The werewolf rolled her over onto her back. He stood above her, flexing his lethal claws. He drew his lips back over his fangs in a toothy snarl.

He attacked then in a raging fury, falling on her, his claws and fangs a deadly blur of motion. Brianna found her voice again, shrieking at the top of her lungs as blood and dollops of flesh sprayed into the air. Talons raked over her, ripping skin and tearing flesh. His fangs grated against the bones of her skull. He tore at her face and neck, jerking and tugging violently, gnawing away tendons and muscle. His claws dug deeply into her cheeks. They carved downward, cutting her face into bloody ribbons. His huge maw closed over the top of her head, and there was a terrible, ripping pain.

Her scalp hung from his gore-clotted jaws like a bloody, copper-colored wig. He dropped it on her slashed belly.

Brianna moaned, her body wracked with spasms of intolerable torment. She wanted to die, but she knew he wasn't finished with her yet. He was grinning that horrific, bloody grin at her again. His penis was gorged with blood and fully erect, extended to its monstrous length.

He knelt in the shallow water and grabbed her ankles; then he spread her legs wide and pulled her to him. There was no mistaking what he intended to do to her.

"Ohhh.......God, no......please d-don't ...."

He thrust brutally into her; Brenna arched her back, and her raw, elemental shriek of pure agony shivered across the lake.......

*****

The forensics department's phone rang just as Sam D'Amato was leaving for the night. Against his better judgment, he picked it up.

He quickly wished he hadn't.

Steve Dante watched curiously as the forensic chief's face drained of all color. He swayed, and almost dropped the receiver, looking for a moment as if he might faint. Then he straightened resolutely.

"I'll get a team up there right away, Jace."

"What is it?" asked Gord Matthews, the assistant director. He was a wiry, middle-aged man with receding, curly blond hair and a neatly-trimmed silver-streaked beard.

D'Amato plopped in a chair, trembling.

"Th-the sheriff and his wife were torn to pieces," he said, his voice barely audible. "Probably by the same thing that killed those kids and Megan last night. So I guess it can hunt during the day, too. Jace says you can't tell which body parts belong to whom."

"My God!" Dante exclaimed. "We've had one murder here in the last eight years. Now we've had five in less than twenty-four hours." He shuddered. He was thankful that Brenna had decided not to go up to the wilderness area.

Matthews clapped D'Amato on the shoulder. "Sam -- go on home. I can handle this. You've been at it all day."

D'Amato wearily shook his head. "Thanks, Gord, but I'd better go, too. We're a little short handed." He stood up. "Let's go, people -- all hands on deck. We've got a job to do."

He saw Steve Dante grab a shoulder mounted mobile radio out of his drawer. "I suppose you're going to ride your dirt bike up there, Steve, since your sweetie Brenna's not here to drive you up this time? Be careful you don't take a spill on that thing." There was a note of resignation in his voice.

Dante chuckled. "I will, 'Dad' -- and it's not a dirt bike. It's a Husqvarna TE-510, made for Enduro racing. It's a finely-tuned machine. You can take it off-road, but it's DOT street legal, too."

"Whatever," D'Amato retorted. "Just don't bust your ass."

Dante grabbed his kit and headed out the door. He had a very un-geek like fascination with motorcycles, and was a fair to middling rider. He loved his Huskie; it was a powerful machine, the top of Husqvarna's Enduro line. He started it up. Then he popped a wheelie for Sam's benefit as he streaked out of the parking lot past the director's car.

He hadn't ridden far when he saw something that made his blood run cold. He skidded the bike to a stop and slewed sideways.

Brianna's car -- parked right by the head of the Parker's Woods Trail. She had lied to him! She was up there in those woods, and that thing might be running around up there, too! A thrill of fear shot through him as he slapped his radio.

"Sheriff's Department, Clay Palmer here."

"Clay, this is Steve Dante in Forensics. Brianna Lang is hiking up the Chilhowie Falls Trail. She's going up to do a more thorough investigation of the parking area!"

"Christ! That area's off limits! I'll send a couple of cars up there right away!"

"Thanks, Sheriff," Dante said. "I'm on my bike heading up that way. I can take the trails."

"Dante -- no! It's off limits to you too! Don't you....."

Dante turned off the radio and gunned the Huskie. He went roaring up the trail, driving his bike faster than he ever had in his life. Branches whipped his face as streaked over the path, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were focused on the beautiful young woman he had made love to this afternoon.

'Come on, Bri, please be all right!' he thought. 'Please be all right!'

*****

The pain had become her constant companion, the only reality left in a world that was swiftly tilting toward oblivion. Brianna Lang couldn't believe that she was still alive.

Blood filled her mouth. Its metallic taste choked her. Internal injuries. She didn't have long. Never had she felt agony like this; it was almost beyond the ability of her nervous system to process. She tried to move, but her torn, mutilated body no longer listened to her. She thought of Stevie, sorry that she had lied to him, sorry that they would never get the chance to grow together as a couple. She thought of her mom and dad. They would be heartbroken. She had planned to visit them in Seattle this coming weekend. If only she could have seen them one last time, told them she loved them.....

The werewolf crouched over her. His huge, powerful jaws engulfed her left breast; he bit down slowly, shearing away the tender flesh until his fangs snapped together in the middle. He chewed up his gory prize and swallowed it. She had thought the pain could get no worse, but she'd been wrong. Brenna tried to scream; she managed only a horrible, wet gurgling noise. She was in shock, weakening from the loss of blood.

The creature's massive head darted between her spread legs. His bristling fangs tore out her cunt by the roots, and he gobbled it down right before her eyes.

Brianna's eyes closed and the tears flowed down the slashed ruins of her face.

Gradually a lethargy calmed her tormented mind; the physical pain became sublime, almost blissful. Bright lights danced before her eyes, growing more and more intense until her entire universe was a swell of incandescent flame.

And then she was no longer lying in agony at the edge of the lake.

She was in....her Grandpa Sam's backyard?

It had been one of her favorite places when she had been a little girl. Only this backyard was transformed by an ethereal, golden-white glow. It was like the most beautiful spring day you could possibly imagine, multiplied by a factor of a thousand. It was just as she remembered it, just the way it had been before he had......gone away. The two-tiered yard, bisected in the middle by a neat flagstone retaining wall with steps at the far end, was filled with hanging baskets and planters bursting with all manner of beautiful flowers. The grassy areas were cross-hatched with mulched flower beds. Gorgeous climbing roses in all colors of the rainbow covered the high stone walls that bordered the property, and pine trees whispered in the gentle breeze. Flowering vines twisted in among the roses. She raced up the stone steps to the upper level of the yard, where his potting shed was.

Sure enough, he was inside, filling clay pots with topsoil and plants. He was healthy, trim and tanned. His well-barbered mane of wavy white hair was neatly combed, and his brown eyes sparkled kindly behind those goofy photo-grey glasses. As usual, he wore a short-sleeved white knit shirt and pressed gray slacks, as neat as a pin. He was the way she remembered him in happier times, before the disease wasted and ravaged him.....

"Grandpa?" Brianna quavered, an arm reaching out to the old man. "Grandpa Sam, is that you?"

"Kitten?" He looked surprised, but enfolded her in a warm embrace. "Lord, let me look at you! My, my, you've really blossomed into a young beauty. You were knee high to a grasshopper last time I saw you."

She squeezed him tightly. "Oh, Grandpa, I've missed you! I love you!"

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you, too, honey. I must say, though, I wasn't expecting to see you just yet. Sort of figured Grandma Rose and your Mom and Dad would be along first."

"Is this....is this real?" she asked in wonder. "Is this heaven?"

He chuckled. "You can call it whatever you like, I guess. It's whatever makes you happiest. Favorite people, favorite places, favorite things -- it can be anything you want."

Brianna glanced down at herself. Her slender body was whole, unscarred by the werewolf's lethal attack. She was wearing her favorite jeans and a comfortable, loose-fitting denim shirt.

She heard a familiar 'meow' behind her.

"T-Tiger?!" Her eyes filled with joyful tears as the big, beautiful gray-striped tabby cat leaped into her arms. He purred and nuzzled her face, a comforting, warm bundle of fur. He had been dead for almost ten years.

"Oh, baby, I've missed you, too!" she exclaimed.

"Why don't you stay here with me, Kitten?" her grandfather urged, waving his arm invitingly. "You always did like my backyard."

"Oh yes," she sighed contentedly as she stroked behind the cat's ears. "Oh yes! I'd love that!"

A tug in her stomach brought her back to the reality of the bloodsoaked lakeside as a red curtain of pain occluded the comforting vision. So it had been just a pain-induced hallucination, then? Brianna sobbed softly. She desperately wanted to go back, to go where she would find an end to her suffering.