Ashton Daigle

Although the trail and the hunt called strongly to them both, it was necessity and common sense which kept Jesse and Rakov in place for all the next day, at the makeshift lab in Henderson. There was just too much to do.

Furthermore, Namid hadn’t calmed down much. She was still a handful. At one point, when they were still preparing her living area inside the old bank building cell, she’d woken and tried to make it outdoors. Fortunately, they got her and sedated her before she reached the door, but it was a close call.

“But it finally prompted Jesse to ask, “What the hell are we going to do Rakov? We can’t just keep sedating her every time she comes to.”

“Once we get her situated, we will begin to gradually start lessening the dosages of the sedatives,” Rakov said. “But for the time being, extra rest is not going to kill her.”

I addition to readying the living area, they also spent a considerable amount of time cleaning and attending to Namid’s wounds. At one point during this process she came to, wincing as Rakov stitched one of the deeper cuts near her abdomen.

She looked as if she were about to resist, but Rakov firmly held his ground, staring her dead in the eye.

“No,” he commanded firmly. He pointed at her and said “You. You. You move,” he said, jiggling his body and waving his arms like a court jester. Then he pointed at the stitched up wound on her belly. “You move, that hurt,” he said, pretty much the same way a mother would teach a young child not to touch a hot stove. “Hurt bad.”

Her face remained expressionless the entire time, but by the same token she didn’t growl at him or try to escape. And although her face, itself, was expressionless, again her eyes were burning with curiosity, especially when he took the time to carefully pronounce words.

Several times throughout the day they also tried dressing her. That morning, Jesse had gone to a clothing shop and bought a variety of different dresses; none of them too expensive though, as Jesse figured the process of dressing may be trial and error.

For the most part he was right. They put the first outfit on her when she was still sedated. She woke, inside the cell, in horror. She practically leaped out of the bed, as if something were strangling her, and she pulled at the dress, trying to pry it from her body like it hurt her. Eventually she got hold of it and ripped it from herself and dropped it on the floor.

“Well lucky for her, I’m not one to attend many dinner parties,” Jessie said, smiling.

“It is good you can have a sense of humor,” Rakov said. “It is very healthy.”

“I kind of feel bad, but by the same token, if I can’t laugh about it, all I’d be doing is crying about it,” Jesse said. “And I can tell you, I’m just not really the crying type.”

About six hours and three dresses later, though, Namid had taken a slight interest in the garments. Inside the cell Jesse and Rakov both sat with her trying to explain the necessity of clothes. Again, it was slow going, like teaching a child.

“Look here,” Jesse said, holding one dress in his hand, as he stroked the fabric with his other hand. “It’s soft. It’s nice.” He tried to hand it to her, to let her copy his motions, but instead she cringed away from it, like it was something infected.

But Jesse persisted.

“Soft,” he said. “Pretty. Like you,” he said, placing emphasis on the word you, as Rakov had done earlier. “And I’m me, Jesse.”

At the sound of Jesse saying his name out loud, her head perked up a little, and her eyes burned with something Jesse could swear was recognition.

However, Rakov had warned him early that morning, that progress was going to be slow and that it was maybe even possible, had she suffered any head injuries, that she may be even experiencing full or partial amnesia.

“You cannot allow yourself to take it personally, not one single bit, if she doesn’t seem to remember you or your life together,” Rakov had warned.

For a moment her lips were pursed, as if she were going to say Jesse’s name, but then she stopped, her attention more focused on Jesse stroking the cloth.

“Here,” Jesse said, slowly and underhanded, sliding the cloth to her. “Hold it. Pet it.”

She looked very unsure of both herself and the entire situation, but reluctantly held out two fingers and touched the cloth.

Jesse smiled and nodded at her.

“Soft,” he said, now holding the fabric in his hand and touching it to the side of his grizzled face. “Soft. You can hold it. Hold.”

Again, she reached out, but this time she took the cloth into her hands, exploring it, rubbing the material between her fingers. Eventually, she also rubbed the dress on her cheek.

Jesse and Rakov both smiled at her, but she did not mimic them.

“Soft,” Jesse said again, smiling eagerly.

This somehow put her off and she let the dress fall to the floor, withdrawing from them both again almost completely. They let her be, alone in the cell. For the time being, she seemed oblivious to being locked inside the caged vault. It didn’t bother her that Jesse and Rakov closed the cell door and locked it.

In fact, she seemed to relax more completely, with them outside the cell away from her. Rakov had folded all the dresses and laid them out on her bed for her. But the second they stepped outside the cage, she picked them up and threw them on the floor of the cell, looking up at them, as if to see what their reaction was going to be.

Rakov had already warned Jesse not to respond to such acts; to ignore her. They did, and a short time later Namid actually gathered up the dresses. She sat on the floor with the dresses.

She didn’t like the bed and didn’t sleep in it unless she was sedated and placed there. Instead, she preferred sleeping on the floor, curled up in a small ball.

She held each dress, one by one, holding it to her face. After a few minutes, though, this activity bored her and she laid the dresses down on the floor, arranged them into a bed and laid on them and drifted off to sleep.

Eating, drinking and going to the bathroom were also several things they addresses with Namid that day; none with too great of success. She preferred to squat, like a dog or wolf, to use the bathroom. In vain, both Rakov and Jesse tried to show her how to use a bedpan, each time with seemingly less and less success. Finally, on the last try, Namid actually took the bedpan from Jesse and held it. Rakov and Jesse were both excited, both hoping they’d made a significant breakthrough. But the she looked at them curiously and placed it on her head, like a hat.

Both men laughed heartily and indeed a breakthrough of sorts did occur; a slight smile crept across Namid’s lips.

“That’s a bed pan darling, not a hat,” said Rakov still laughing.

And then…

“Hat,” she repeated, in a small, tiny voice, so low they the men thought they were hearing things at first.

“That’s right,” Jesse said. “Hat.”

“Hat,” said Namid again, only this time a little louder. “Hat,” she said again to herself, looking halfway proud but also halfway terrified that words, human sounds were coming from her mouth. But she continued.

“Hat, hat, hat, hat hat, hat,” she said getting increasingly louder as she stomped around her cell, like a marching soldier.

“Well, at least we know she is all woman,” Rakov laughed. “The first word she has learned is a piece of lady apparel.”

Eating and drinking didn’t go quite as smoothly. Both men tried to show her how to drink from a cup. But each time they handed her the cup, she threw it, delighting in the fact that the water inside the cup sprayed everywhere when she did. A plate of food brought the same results.

Rakov eventually went out and bought two dog bowls, filled one with water and one with food and placed them in her cell. The first couple times, she upset the bowls; but eventually seemed to understand. And later that night, she approached the bowls on all fours and ate and drank as a wolf would, panting and lapping at the water, completely oblivious to Rakov and Jesse’s stares.

At around ten, after Rakov had administered a sedative to Namid, Doc Ogle and the kid showed up.

“Boy, you two are sure late in getting here,” Jesse said.

Ogle took off his hat and sat down at the table and said, “Well Jesse, it was a live one in town today. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Garvey was killed. A wolf got him.”

Jesse and Rakov both raised their eyebrows and Ogle shook his head.

“Not the wolf we’re hunting,” Ogle said. “They think it was that wolf pup he had captive.”

‘Yeah, you know,” said the kid. “The one he was tugging around the other night choking and holding it up in mid-air.”

‘What happened?” Jesse said.

“They think it slipped its leash,” Ogle said. “Garvey had that gut wound. It looks like the pup pulled out his intestines.”

Even Rakov cringed slightly at that.

“Well, I’m still waiting for the bad news,” Jesse said.

Ogle looked at him queerly until he realized Jesse was just kidding and he added, “Well, I know it’s not exactly going to leave anyone heartbroken, but truth be told, I wouldn’t wish that a death like that on anyone. Not even a shit heel like Garvey.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that,” Jesse said. “But still, you have to admit there’s a certain sense of justice to it, seeing as how he was so cruel to that pup; not to mention the wagon of wolves he burned.”

Rakov nodded.

“So how is our star patient doing?” Ogle asked.

“It was a busy day,” Jesse said.

“We made some progress, but I think it’s going to take some time,” Rakov said.

“Well, I brought you some extra supplies, bandages, rubbing alcohol, blankets and things,” Ogle said. “And I’m leaving John here with you. He’ll be at your disposal, that’s if she’ll be allright without a doctor present.”

“She should be just fine,” Rakov said.

“Yeah, we really need to get out there tomorrow,” Jesse said.

Ogle shook his head in understanding and asked, “So are you two headed out first thing in the morning?”

“Actually no,” Jesse said. “Rakov and I talked about this. We’re going to head out mid to late afternoon, it’s about an hour to Mill Creek. But…”

Jesse paused and said, “You go ahead and tell him what you told me Rakov.”

“Wolves aren’t exactly fully nocturnal creatures, but they do seem to get more active right at dusk,” Rakov said. “That is the time they are most apt to bring their young down to a river or creek to drink. That is also the time that the Parsons girl was attacked.’

“Yeah,” Ogle said. “But we all agree the wolf that killed the Parsons girl wasn’t our wolf.”

Rakov went on to explain how a wolf, like the one that killed the Parsons girl, more than likely belonged to a pack.

“The only thing that usually draws males like him away from the pack is a she-wolf; more than likely in heat; but possibly also carrying young,” Rakov said. “Regardless, we plan to be there before dusk.”

“And then we’ll hang around a few hours to see if anything happens,” Jesse said. “Unless we can actually pick up her blood trail somewhere, it’s as good of starting place as any. Plus, there’s a full moon tomorrow night, so we should have plenty enough light to see by, to make it back here without falling off a mountain or anything stupid like that.”

“Seems like a sound enough plan,” Ogle said, getting up to leave.

“You sure you don’t want to just sleep here tonight and head out in the morning Doc?” Jesse asked.

“No, I promised the wife I’d come home tonight,” Ogle said, telling everyone bye and then leaving.

Jesse wasn’t prone to dreams, much less nightmares. So when he heard a clank and he stirred and sat up to see Namid in the dim light of the stove lamp, fully dressed, he assumed, naturally, that he was awake.

She was a vision of beauty. She had taken up one of the dresses from the floor, the green one, and dressed herself.

“Hat,” she said. “Hat, hat, hat.”

Jesse smiled. He hadn’t said anything to Rakov about it, but Jesse knew the significance of that word.

Shortly after he originally found Namid, they were together in Carson. By that time, she wasn’t feral like she was when he first found her, but she wasn’t forming words yet either. That day in Carson, they were looking through the window of a lady’s shop, when Namid spotted a sun hat of sorts. She pointed at it and smiled and Jesse said the word “hat” to her. Out of nowhere, she repeated it back to him, smiling and excited. He bought the hat for her, and for days she wore it on her head, admiring her own reflection in mirrors or in creeks, smiling, saying “hat, hat, hat” over and over to herself.

Now, all this time later, she stood before him again, hauntingly.

“Hat, Jesse. Hat, Jesse,” she called out to him, smiling, nearly bringing him to tears.

“You remember me,” he said to her.

“Of course I remember you Jesse love,” she said. “Come to me Jesse love. Love me Jesse, love Namid. I cannot stay, but come love Jesse, Jesse love me.”

Although something in his mind clicked, like a tripped trigger, a grave warning; Jesse ignored it and felt himself rising to his feet. He couldn’t ignore her; not like this; not now; not ever.

Jesse stared over his shoulder to make sure Rakov and the kid were asleep. They were. He grabbed the keys, unlocked the cell and walked inside. She stood before him, radiant, upright and full of pride; like a queen; and gently walked towards him.

Slowly, he took her into his arms and their mouths met, their tongues swirling together; the radiating heat almost painfully intolerable. Then she quickly stepped away, backing up towards the bed. She lifted the dress from her shoulders and in a few deft motions it fell, cascading around her ankles.

“Jesse love,” she said, reclining on the bed, motioning for him to follow.

Jesse clumsily unbuckled his trousers and followed, taking great care to be gentle as he positioned himself on the bed with her, between her spread legs. She smiled as he eased himself on top of her.

“Babies,” she said, smiling, and gently patting her own belly.

“I know,” Jesse said. “I know there’s babies in there. I’ll be very careful.”

She smiled and then clenched her teeth, stifling an animalistic grunt as he slid slowly inside her. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Yet, it had always been like that between them. Every time was always like the first time.

They were both trembling, and she moaned in pleasure. Jesse began to pump deeply inside her but she gently nudged him to be still.

“Stay Jesse,” she said. “Close eyes. I show you.”

“What?” Jesse asked.

“I show you,” she said urgently. “All of the things I can never say. I will show you.”

With that, Jesse suddenly felt very light-headed and he heard his heard-beat throbbing, pounding in his temples as his vision turned to a blank canvas of red. He tried to blink, but his eyes were still clamped shut. He couldn’t open them and then he felt the sensation that he was soaring, over vast spaces, mountains, through time itself.

Then he saw. He saw foreign lands; ancient Rome; where two infants lay suckling the teats of a she-wolf; Romulus and Remus; he saw an old haggardly woman with sharp claws opening up a young calf; in France; hunters gathered, seeking the Beast of Gévaudan; the moors of London; where a young naked man hunched over a set of wolf tracks, lapping water from them thirstily.

As he saw, Jesse felt his hips begin to thrust, the heat inside him growing. The faster he thrust, the more he saw; Russia; a young girl, familiar; Namid; only her name then was Nadia; walking alone on a snowy trail at dusk.

Jesse wanted to scream; to warn her; but he couldn’t; and the great wolf leaped from the shadows on top of her; Jesse came, exploding inside of her as she undulated, arched her head back and howled. He continued to lay there; his body still in the spent dying throes of orgasm; he saw Shaman; dancing around night fires; one adorned with a wolf’s head; blood flying as heads were severed cleanly from their bodies; and then warriors; tying a bruised, bloodied injured girl to a tree.

“These,” she purred in his ear. “These are the things I can never say.”

Jesse screamed and woke screaming, sweat pouring off him like buckets. He checked himself. He was still dressed, the keys were still clipped to his belt. Rakov and the kid were both snoring. His head darted around, confused, disoriented.

And then his eyes fell on the cell. The door was open. It was barely open, but it was unlocked and open. Namid was still curled up in a tight ball on the floor, lying on the dresses she’d fashioned into a bed.

Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he rose and walked to the cell and placed his hand on the door. He knew he’d just experienced something; but he couldn’t remember what. All of the images, the entire dream slipped away from him, almost as if it were being drained from him; pulled away.

Namid stirred slightly and the opened her eyes and watched him. Jesse shut the door to the cell and made sure it was locked.

“You will not remember, ever; but now at least you will understand; always Jesse love,” she said to him.

He nodded.

“My change is near,” she whispered. “These bars will not hold me.”

“I know that,” Jesse said, confused, not sure what they were talking about, or if they were even really talking.

“And you will do what you must do Jesse love, as I will do what I must do,” she said.

She lapsed back into sleep so quickly, Jesse doubted the entire conversation took place. And by the time he laid back down, he had forgotten; everything.