Ashton Daigle

Jesse and Rakov made it to Mill Creek in less than an hour, with time to spare before darkness fell. Jesse had spoken to Doc Ogle at length and had a good idea as to where it was where the Parsons girl was attacked and killed.

Thankfully, it had started to warm up a little. It was still cold, but at least it wasn’t freezing any more.

As he suspected they would, they found the spot almost immediately. While the elements had done their job, there were still several patches of ground that were darkly stained from dried blood.

Rakov and Jesse tied the horses up, a good hundred yards or so from the creek itself and made their way there on foot, examining the scene carefully. A few ripped pieces of the girl’s clothes were still snagged on low-lying branches. The area right beside the creek was wooded pretty heavily.

“I don’t remember it ever being this overgrown here,” said Jesse.

“With time and industry, people depend less on streams and creeks like this,” Rakov noted.

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that,” Jesse said. “The creek runs north up that way, through there. As you can see the terrain gets rockier and rockier.”

But Rakov was near the stream bed, kneeling down, examining something. Jesse looked down and saw Rakov was looking at tracks, and he scanned the ground following them.

“Do you have any idea where exactly Garvey killed the big black wolf?” Rakov asked.

“They said it was off in the woods,” Jesse said. “I figure somewhere between where we tied up the horses and here.”

Jesse was still looking at the ground at the prints, presumably left by the big wolf and he noted, “It looks like they stop right here.”

Jesse walked to where they vanished and looked up the creek.

“Why there?” Rakov asked.

“I don’t know,” Jesse said, as he continued following the creek another few feet to the north.

“Where are you going?” Rakov asked.

“Just an idea,” Jesse said. “I just want to see something.”

He made his way to a big rock that rose about for feet off the ground and examined the top of it. He motioned for Rakov to follow him. Rakov did and stopped and looked at the top of the rock. It was barely discernable, but there was a partial paw print outlined in what also looked like dried blood. Except the paw print was facing forward, as if the animal that had stood there had looked down at the wolf that killed the Parsons girl.

“It probably stood there when the male wolf approached,” Rakov said. “Wolves have been known to use terrain to their advantage; especially if it’s a smaller wolf. Are there any more tracks on the other side of this rock.?”

“They look old but yeah, there are,” Jesse said. “They’re clear as day.”

So, together they trudged north for about a half mile. There, the creek narrowed in width to about six inches, because of rocks and mountains. They looked around, up at the rock formations and small meandering trails until Rakov paused and pointed.

“Right there, look,” he said. “It’s a cave.”

“Not big from the looks of it, but just big enough for our girl to hide in,” Jesse said.

They climbed up and found the cave empty save for some pine boughs, which had been dragged in; probably as a bed. Rakov poked around further, bent down and picked up what looked like a rock.

“What kind of rock is that?” Jesse asked, trying to move closer to see.

“It isn’t a rock, it’s a skull,” Rakov said. “A human skull.”

They poked around a little bit longer until Jesse found a small cache of bones.

“All human,” he said.

“This is where she sleeps, or slept,” Rakov said.

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Jesse asked.

“I’m almost certain of it,” Rakov said.

“Where do you think she is?” asked Jesse. “What’s her holdup?”

“If she’s wounded, she may be moving slow,” Rakov said.

“Do you think we should wait here for her?” Jesse asked.

“No, not tonight,” Rakov said. “I think we should get back to the girl, and the kid. Besides, there is something I want to check there.”

“What is it?” Jesse asked.

But Rakov seemed to have drifted off, deep in thought.

“What?” he asked. “Forgive me, I was just thinking. It probably isn’t important. I will let you know, though, if it does, when we get back.”

They returned to the horses empty-handed and tired. In silence they mounted and began the journey back to Henderson.

—— ——– —— ——

The girl woke about an hour after Jesse and Rakov had left, and immediately picked up where she had left off.

“Out, out, Namid out,” she pleaded with the kid, who remained seated and indifferent to her pleading.

If it was possible, she seemed even more distressed now than she had that morning and early afternoon. The kid reckoned it was partially because she realized Jesse was gone, but still he tried his best to ignore her.

About an hour later it was even worse. She became more animal-like; snarling and howling, and pulling at the bars in vain. Over and over again she’d work herself up into a fevered pitch, and then exhausted, she would lay down, panting and whimpering.

She’d gotten up again, and was standing near the bed, muttering to herself, “Out, out, out,” when she suddenly doubled over in what looked to the kid like true pain. He remembered what Rakov had said though, and he tried not to let it alarm him.

But she continued to cry out, eventually howling at the top of her lungs and writhing on the floor in agony.

“Hurt, hurt,” she panted between gasps. “Namid hurt. Namid baby hurt. No.’

She moaned and cried pitifully. Then her entire body seemed to spasm and she threw up.

“Sick, sick, Namid sick, baby hurt, no,” she yowled.

It tore the kid up inside to look at her and to listen to her go on like this, but he knew he couldn’t let her out either. Instead, he rolled a cigarette and walked outside, in front of the building.

He was actually shaking from nervousness as he lit the cigarette. He inhaled deeply and wondered if Rakov had left any vodka behind. He continued to try to get himself under control. His hands had quit shaking but he was still breathing hard and his heart was racing.

He saw the two men exit the saloon across the street and saw them walking towards him, but it didn’t strike him as out of the ordinary.

“You got a light mister?” one of them asked as they continued to approach.

The kid nodded as the two men walked up beside him, and he held his cigarette out to the first man, to use as a light. The kid saw the second man’s shadow, just out of the corner of his left eye, but by the time it took to register that something wasn’t right, the butt of the pistol cracked him hard above his left eye. The man struck him again, this time in the back of the head, and he went down hard.

They drug him quickly inside and locked the door and looked around.

“My God, it stinks to kingdom come in here,” Harry said, as he looked around nervously.

Clint nodded to the cell.

“There she is,” Clint said, as he removed the keys from the kid’s belt.

“Out, out, Namid out,” she said, looking at her new guests with hope in her eyes.

“You hear that Clint, she wants out,” said Harry laughing, and then, as he walked closer to the cell said, “What the hell’s wrong with her? She’s done pissed and shit all over the floor. It looks like she’s been throwing up too.”

“She smells worse than a fucking animal,” said Clint, sneering.

As the men drew nearer, Namid knew they meant her harm. She could smell the violence on them before they even thought violent thoughts. She also smelled their fear, but she tried to compose herself. They had the keys.

“Namid out, out, out out,” she said forcing herself to smile at them. “Namid pretty, pretty Namid.”

“Yeah, even thought you smell like a damn animal you sure are pretty,” Clint, as he inserted the key into the lock.

She rushed towards the door and Harry drew his pistol and held it up, pointing it at her head.

“Get back,” he yelled.

She knew the gun would kill her. She knew her changes were coming. She only had to hold on a few more minutes. She looked both men up and down and backed off and they entered the cage, locking the door behind her.

The men continued moving towards her and she kept backing up until she could back up no further.

“Namid pretty,” she said, knowing it was no use.

And then she lunged herself at the one called Clint.

She was fast, but Clint side stepped, tripped her and she went sprawling into the bed. Harry was on top of her before she could move and he rammed her in the back of the head with the pistol. She fell to the floor, unconscious, or so they thought.

“Good, get her up on the bed,” Clint said, unzipping his pants.

Harry bent down to pick her up, but something was happening to her body. She began shake and then convulse and Harry stepped away.

“She’s probably just faking, now bend her over the bed, before I shoot you myself,” Clint said.

Harry did what he was told and Clint bent down behind her.

The kid was starting to come to. He was dizzy and his head hurt horribly, but he knelt upward and let his eyes try to adjust. Everything suddenly came into focus and as they did, he wished they hadn’t.

Namid’s head jerked upwards as Clint thrust violently into her, her eyes rolling back into her head, the veins in her neck bulging, looking like they were going to explode. The kid stumbled forward, but realized he didn’t have the keys or his pistol.

Namid screamed; no, howled and lowered her head, staring at Harry, growling. The kid saw her eyes first. They were changing. Something was horribly wrong that went beyond the fact that the girl was being violated. She was changing. Her face contorted and her lower jaw began protruding outward. Her mouth opened wide and the kid could see teeth, fangs growing before his very eyes.

She was in the throes of convulsions now and her whole body shook. It wasn’t like the time the kid’s cousin Jack had an epileptic fit. That had been bad enough. But this was something altogether different. The girl was growing, and snarling. Her eyes were no longer her own, they were yellow and red, like an animal’s eyes.

Her hands, which had been gripping the frame of the bed as the men hurt her, were also growing; they were growing long, hairy and clawed.

The kid couldn’t believe his eyes and was sure he was still knocked out. But he wasn’t. Namid was changing; and he thought back to earlier in the day to her cries “Namid out, Namid out. Namid hurt you.”

She’d been trying to warn them all damn day long. And now it was too late.

Harry noticed it next, trying to call out to Clint to tell him to stop; but Clint didn’t listen. Clint was still behind her, still inside of her.

He didn’t realize anything was amiss, at least not seriously, until she began to stand up, and until he felt fur; long shaggy fur beneath his hands; where only minutes before there had only been cold, bare, exposed flesh.

The thing that rose in front of him now stood at least two heads taller than him, and with his pants still pulled down around his ankles; he couldn’t comprehend or believe what was happening until it slowly turned around to face him. And by then, his terror was so complete, and so numbing he couldn’t move.

All he knew, for sure, was that the girl wasn’t the girl any more. He was looking into the eyes and face of a wolf; that opened its jaws, exposing rows of sharp teeth. It reached out for Clint with a long, hairy, sinewy arm, that was still more human than animal. But its grip was like a steel vise as it clamped down onto his forehead, shoving him viciously, as if he were a rag doll, against the hard concrete wall.

The back of Clint’s head slammed into the wall and he felt it open up, ripped, as his hot blood began to shower down his neck, between his shoulder blades. It reached down, under and then up sharply with its other clawed hand, and yanked solidly. Clint heard his flesh rip and his mouth fell open, partially in pain, but more in shock; as the creature playfully dangled Clint’s penis in front of his eyes.

It then shoved it into Clint’s mouth, causing him to vomit and gag; until finally it waited, and then clamped its jaws down on his neck, ripping out the jugular, and savoring the blood as it jutted out to the slowing rhythm of the man’s dying heart.

The blood made it stronger and it tossed its head back and howled, turning to face the other man. He tried to fire off a shot, but it was too fast. In one swift movement, the creature swept its arm out and cleanly heaved Harry’s head from his shoulders.

It grabbed the cell door with one hand and yanked inward, ripping it from its hinges. The kid just kneeled there, his head down, crying and praying, and the thing that was once Namid only backhanded him, with no claws; but effectively knocking him back out.

It hurled itself through the window of the building landing outside on all fours, and then it disappeared quickly into the night.