Werewolf Chronicles Page 5

  After a time her eyelids were growing heavy again. There was nothing she could do to help them, and once the sheriff's jeep pulled up, Phyllis yawned and stretched, then crawled back into bed to sleep uneasily.

  Chapter Six

  There was the equivalent of a circus the next morning, as far as ranches go. The sheriff's jeep was back, as well as another car that Phyllis learned had come from the Game Commission. Joanie greeted her with a hot breakfast, which she was too upset to eat. The llamas were out grazing again as if nothing had happened, but the butchered one had been removed. Joanie explained that Uncle Bill and the others were now scouring the grounds for clues.

  "Bill did shoot at something last night," Joanie said, "but even he isn't sure what it was. He says it looked sort of like a bear."

  "You have bears around here?"

  "We don't. That's the trouble. You know, I wouldn't be surprised if it were something that escaped from a zoo or a circus. The game warden ought to know. I can't believe something like this could happen."

  "Neither can I," Phyllis said. "Um… aren't there animals like mountain lions, or um, wolves or something? I thought this was all fenced off, anyways.

  "The gate could have been left open," Joanie said, shrugging. "And no, honey, there aren't any mountain lions or wolves nearby. The wolves are up north, and folks pretty much keep them in line."

  "Um… do you think Uncle Bill would mind if I kind of watched what they were doing?" Phyllis asked. "I just want to see what's going on."

  "I suppose you could, but um… just make sure to keep out of their way," Joanie cautioned. "Especially your uncle. He's been having a couple of cows about this."

  "I don't blame him."

  "Neither do I," Joanie said, peering out the window.

  Phyllis finished her breakfast in a few minutes, then excused herself to wander out to where the men were. Joanie returned to preparing the weanlings for sale. First, Phyllis scanned the dirt at about where the dead male seemed to be, then found the spot marked with blood. There was a very short trail of it that seemed to go off toward the north, away from the gate. Phyllis kicked at the dirt a while, then headed off north. The men were all the way over to the fence, so she quickened her step.

  After a time Phyllis reached the north end of the ranch, and stopped some fifteen feet from the men. Uncle Bill had no doubt been repeating his story over and over to the deputy and Game Commission person. At least he was not tired of it yet, but it only made him angrier with each retelling. The source of their concern lay before her eyes; one part of the fence had been torn wide open. Something had actually ripped its way through a chain-link fence just to slaughter a llama. It had either been something hungry and insane, or just so strong that it didn't care what was in its way. She then began picking up on their conversation.

  "—that I know can do this," the deputy said.

  "Well, Jesus Christ, man, haven't you called the zoo or something?" Uncle Bill snapped at the commissioner. "What's strong enough to rip through this? What killed my stud?"

  "All we've got now is what you've told us yourself, plus what we're seeing here," the deputy said.

  "And we'll get back to you pronto on that autopsy," the commissioner said.

  "I want it today if you've got it," Uncle Bill said.

  "We're doing the best we can," the commissioner said. "Now that I see this, it's obvious we've got something more than just some misplaced wolf or bear."

  "I'm going to ask the sheriff to get a posse out there," the deputy said, pointing to the woods. "Could be anything out there. Could even be a man."

  "Christ, you can't tell me a man did this," Uncle Bill said, indicating the torn fence. "These weren't wirecutters here. Something just—tore it open!" he added, mimicking the action. "That wasn't no man I shot at."

  "It was nighttime, Bill," the deputy said. "It's hard to say."

  "I had enough light to see it wasn't a man. Or… or anything else I've seen, either."

  "I'd like to start along the lines of maybe a rabid dog," the commissioner said, scratching his chin. "Bill," he said, slapping his hand onto Bill's shoulder, "I'm real sorry about this. We'll call you with anything we've got."

  "You know we will," the deputy said.

  "Yeah," Uncle Bill said, scratching his head. He glanced at Phyllis, then looked away. "Goddamn if this didn't happen to that stud. That dam ain't letting another near her. This has really fucked things up," he said. This swear word above all sounded comical coming from him, but Phyllis would not let herself smile about it. She decided that she had heard and seen enough just as the men had reached the same decision. Still, she let them walk far ahead of her before Uncle Bill turned around to look at her, then let her catch up. He took her arm firmly, but not roughly.

  "Come on, honey," Uncle Bill said. "You keep close to us, you hear?"

  "I'm sorry, Uncle Bill," she said. "I just wanted to see, that's all."

  "Yeah, well, you just keep off where it's safe," he muttered, then said no more the rest of the way.

  Dinner was hardly the lively meal that it usually was. Roger and Uncle Bill had been working on the fence for most of the day, leaving Joanie to watch the herds. She had not had time to create any culinary miracles this time, but even her "open the can" meals were a treat.

  Again, Phyllis slept uneasily, but this was eased somewhat by the lack of any further incidents that night. But the next day, Phyllis called up the airlines to arrange her flight home. She could leave the next day, and although her uncle and step-aunt claimed they would miss her company greatly, Phyllis was not going to impose on them any longer. This wild animal incident was more important to deal with than entertaining some self-pitying relative. Their problems were about equal now, in Phyllis's eyes.

  A slight breeze had started up during the day that had become a pretty good wind by nightfall. Phyllis could fall asleep by now to any number of crickets, but somebody had neglected to latch the barn door decently. No llamas would be escaping, but the door was going to bang Phyllis's ears and mind into oblivion if something wasn't done.

  Uncle Bill and his wife were blessed with a room on the other side, so they probably never heard the door whenever it acted up. Phyllis was quite nervous about going out alone, but she was more reluctant to wake them up just to escort her outside. The stud's death had rudely reminded Phyllis of why she used to be afraid of the dark. Nothing had ever happened to her, which was why her fear had finally died out, but now she was reminded that there really are dangers lurking in the darkness.

  Of course, that door would never let her sleep otherwise, so she fetched a flashlight and quietly made her way outside. The full moon gave her the advantage of extra light; she almost didn't need the flashlight. Still, she swept the immediate area with the light, then stepped gingerly onto the dirt. Even from there she could hear that door banging away.

  Unfortunately, when she arrived at the barn, there didn't seem to be much for her to work with. There were no extra bits of wood lying around with which to jam into the crack, so she decided to start piling as many rocks and as much dirt as possible against the door. It was a dumb idea, but it was all she could think of in the middle of the night.

  Shrieks from within the barn toppled Phyllis onto her behind, where she scrambled to her feet in a panic. She covered her ears and dropped the flashlight, so she fumbled for it while trying to shush the beasts.

  "Hey, hey, it's me! Shut up! It's not that thing!" she whispered at them harshly, but the shrieks continued. She then decided that the barn door could bang out a solo if it wanted to; she was going back inside, and quickly.

  She did not bother wasting time to check the grounds with the flashlight, but ran. Up ahead, some lights were appearing from inside the house. Dealing with Uncle Bill's wrath would be just fine if it meant getting away from that thing, if that was what had alarmed the llamas.

  Something grabbed Phyllis and tossed her easily to fifteen feet away. The ground smashed into her ribs and wri
st as she rolled along the ground; she felt her shoulder pop. There was no time to lick her wounds before she was flung onto her back and struck several times with what felt like a sharpened sledge hammer. Phyllis tried, but could not open her eyes for fear of seeing what the thing actually looked like. Her ears were filled with a growl and a roar and she felt a breath like a volcano burning her face. She tried to raise her arms to flail away at her attacker, but her wounded shoulder felt as though it had burst into flames. Before she could try kicking, she was pinned down even further by the full weight of the beast clamping down hard onto her remaining shoulder. She felt and heard a soft, snap before a loud bang assaulted her ears, followed by many loud snarls, and ending with somebody screaming. Without knowing why, Phyllis felt laughter mix with her tears before the darkness swallowed her.

  She found herself in a bed upon awakening. No one was with her at the time, but she had plenty of tubes and beeping machines to keep her company. The drawn curtains were thin and did little to keep out the sunlight, which served to cheer her somewhat.

  Phyllis tried to sit up but was unprepared for the soreness and stinging that came of it. Her heart monitor sped up a little from the effort, until Phyllis gave up and fell back into bed with a groan. After a few moments a curious nurse peeked inside, then entered all the way.

  "Goodness," the middle-aged woman said, bustling over to the bed. "It's so good to see you awake, dear. Can you speak? How do you feel?"

  "Like shit," Phyllis mumbled. "What is this?"

  "What is what?"

  "Is this a hospital or something?"

  "I'm afraid so, dear," the nurse said, fixing the sheets. "Do you know what day it is?"

  Even if she knew, she didn't care.

  "No," Phyllis said. The nurse nodded, but did not tell her the date.

  "Do you know your name?" she asked.

  "Yeah," Phyllis said. She looked away and felt the back of her head, then felt the nurse watching her. "It's Phyllis," she said, a little irritated.

  "We have to check, that's all," the nurse said. "How do you feel, though? Are you hurting?"

  Phyllis lifted up her arms, which were bandaged. Her face was stiff, so she felt the bandages there, and felt her chest, too.

  "Yeah, everywhere," she said. "How did I get here?"

  "Well, the ambulance brought you in just three days ago," the nurse said. "You were badly hurt, dear. They say that something attacked you."

  "Um… um, I don't know," Phyllis said, feeling the bump on her head. "Where are Joanie and Uncle Bill? My God, are they okay? I was at their ranch. Where are they?"

  "Just let me get all your signs for you first, then I'll get the doctor, all right, hon?" the nurse said.

  "I want to know if they're okay," Phyllis grumbled while the nurse set to work.

  "The doctor will be here to talk to you real soon," was all the nurse said. Phyllis sighed and looked at the curtains. She hadn't been in a hospital in years, but remembered that it had been an awful, frightening place. This one was a little more inviting. It was not so cold as she remembered the first time to be, but that may have been because the windows here were bigger and faced the patients more. The room was obviously clean and scrubbed, but a new paint job wouldn't have hurt anything.

  A doctor showed up just as the nurse was finishing the blood-pressure test; she had "buzzed" for him earlier when taking vital signs. He was an approaching-old-age sort of "country" doctor who smiled pleasantly as he went to the bed.

  "Wellll," he said quietly, "Phyllis, is it?"

  "Yeah."

  "How long you been awake now?" he asked, whipping out an eyelight to check her pupils. Phyllis hated those things, but had had enough checkups to know what to do.

  "Umm, not long, I guess," she said, letting him shine his toy at her.

  "Just a few minutes now, doctor," the nurse said, now writing down the vitals. "She was able to speak right away."

  "Good, good," he said, touching each side of Phyllis's face. "Feeling sore, are you?" he asked.

  "It hurts to move much," she said. "How'd you know?"

  "Well, you came in here needing a lot of patching up," he said. "I'm afraid you needed stitches."

  "Oh, God, on my face, too?"

  "Afraid so," he said. "Ten there, and on your chest," he said, pulling back the sheets and opening her gown to reveal the bandages. "You needed fifteen here, and twenty there. Then on the arm—"

  "Forget it," Phyllis said, trying to close the gown. "I don't want to hear this."

  "Sorry," the doctor said. He said a few things to the nurse, who handed the chart to him and left the room. "I'll tell you what, though—"

  "Where's my uncle?" she asked. "And Joanie? Something attacked me at their ranch. Are they, okay?"

  The doctor looked up from the chart a moment, then set it back at the foot of the bed. He scratched his head, then put his hands in his pockets and sighed.

  "Uh_" he began, "Miss Turner… you and your uncle were brought here a few days ago, and, um…"

  "And Joanie?"

  "His wife?"

  "Yeah."

  "No," he said. "She was here, but wasn't hurt. You see, um… I think it's best that you get better rested before we talk about the others, but—"

  "If you're trying to tell me that he's dead, then tell me now," she said. "The last thing I remember was somebody screaming. I guess it was him I heard, wasn't it?"

  "Um… I'm afraid so," he said quietly, patting her hand gently. "Your uncle didn't actually make it to here. He was dead when the ambulance got there, and your aunt was—well, not physically hurt, thank God."

  "What attacked us?"

  "Um… I wish I could tell you," he said. "It was gone when we showed up, and your aunt wasn't up to giving a good description."

  "Was it an ape dog?" she asked.

  "A what?"

  "Nothing," she murmured. "Never mind. I couldn't give a good description, either."

  "Something attacked you, Miss Turner," he said. "I know it may be hard to think about it, but if you can give us something better, it'll make it easier for people to get the thing."

  Phyllis had been trying not to think about it since that night. No matter how calm she seemed or normal her speech was, her mind had been filled with a broken record memory of that horrible growl, the boom of the gun, her uncle's death scream, that horrible crunch at her shoulder—

  "A bear," she said.

  "A bear? Are you sure?"

  "A gorilla, then. I don't know what the hell it was," she said woodenly. "Uncle Bill's dead? It killed him? The same thing that killed his llamas killed him, too?"

  "I don't know."

  Phyllis tried to hold her face in exasperation, but her wounds prevented this. She pulled her hand away to reveal the beginnings of her tears.

  "He was the only one in my whole family that I liked," she whispered. "My whole goddamned family. So why him? He was so—They let me stay with them because my own life is so fucked up back home and now…"

  Her tears came freely now, making her whole body hurt from the effort. The doctor held her hand until Phyllis pulled it away.

  "Where's Joanie?" she sobbed. "Is she here?"

  "She's at home, I think," he said. "Getting ready for the services. I think other people in your family are here, too."

  "Why?"

  "Because of what happened," he said. "I'd think they'd come for the services, and for you."

  "Better not be my parents here," she muttered.

  "Er… actually, your mother and father visited here when you were still unconscious," he said.

  "Fuck," she whispered.

  "Um… I'll tell you what," the doctor said. "If you're not feeling up to it, you don't have to have visitors. I can tell people you need more rest."

  "I can see Joanie," she said. "In fact, I want to see her. I want to apologize for all of this."

  "Ohh, now, I don't think anyone can be blamed for what's happened," the doctor said. "Especially not y
ou, no, not at all."

  "Nice of you to say that," she said, "but I would like to see her. Can you call her?"

  "The nurses should have called by now and let everyone know you're awake," he said. "And you can call them, too, if you want. You've got a phone right there."

  "Thanks," she said, trying to wipe off her tears around the bandages. "I guess I should calm down first, then call her."

  "Take your time. You need any of us for anything, then you push that button, you hear?" the doctor said, checking her tubes and bottles now. "We've got you on the sugar water and antibiotics, but if you keep up, we'll start you on regular food as soon as possible."

  "Yeah. Thanks," she said distantly, and he turned to leave. "Um… doctor? Could you open the curtains a little?"

  "Hm? Oh, certainly," he said with a smile. It would have been a perfect day if not for the fact that it was being spent in a hospital. Needless to say, Phyllis found it impossible to think pleasant thoughts. Her vacation was no vacation at all; now her favorite uncle was dead, his ranch could be ruined, and she had no insurance or money to pay for her treatment. And it was all her fault, of course.

  Eventually Phyllis dried her tears and grabbed the phone. She wanted Joanie to know she was okay, and how sorry she was, but was afraid that the wrong person might answer. Her parents were there for her uncle's funeral, not for her. Phyllis's presence was just an unfortunate coincidence. She dialed the ranch.

  A man's voice answered, and it had been so long since hearing it that Phyllis didn't recognize her brother, Richard. His tone betrayed relief, but no real excitement at the news of her recovering health. There was some confusion while he announced her to everyone, and Phyllis's fears were realized. Her mother grabbed the phone first.

  "Phyllis?" a cigarette-ruined voice croaked. "Phyllis, are you okay? The hospital just called; we were about to call you back."