It had been many years since he needed to drop off the face of the planet. Sure, he had changed identities when he felt it was time to move on, but only twice before had he needed to disappear in order to save himself. Parker’s failure to control his own beast had facilitated that need, and Jeremiah’s foolish, yet delicious attack on Thomas’s group had sealed the deal. He had to disappear and he had to do it now, before the storm broke and the damned Mountain Rescue teams came for him. He was prepared for this situation, of course; he had an overseas bank account established in a new name, and all of the necessary identification, passport, birth certificate, and driver’s license…laid waiting in a vault in Fort Saint James where he owned another cabin in yet another name. But first, he must reach Hope and retrieve a packet that contained an emergency set of identification and enough cash so that he could leave Hope without being recognized as Jeremiah Johnson. He chuckled inwardly at the name. Not everyone knew that the name had belonged to a famous mountain man who had been immortalized by books and television, but some did, and he enjoyed the second glances and the slight smile on the faces of those who recognized the name. Thomas and Delmar certainly knew of the mountain man, but they had kept quiet.
“Going somewhere?”
The voice startled Jeremiah so badly that he dropped the parka he had held in his hands. He turned to look, but he already knew whom he would see. He leaned forward, placed his hands on the sharp edge of the container, and sighed. He could not help but smile, though. These fools thought that they were catching a bad guy…bringing some mysterious bad man to justice by holding him for the law…maybe even catching a killer, but what they were doing was more than likely sentencing themselves to death. He chuckled then. A most horrible and yet delicious death.
“I wouldn’t be laughing, numb nuts,” Delmar said loudly over the howl of a strong wind as he and Thomas came closer. “Your pet is responsible for two murders, which makes you responsible. Now…stand up nice and slow, then hand Thomas the spark plug from the generator.”
Jeremiah pushed against the edge of the container, and shoved himself upright, bending at the knees and standing up slowly. He raised his hands slowly, but did not look at the two men. “I’m afraid I don’t have it.”
Delmar stepped forward and shoved the barrel of the rifle into Jeremiah’s back. “We will search you, so make it easy and just hand it over….please.”
Thomas, who had walked over to look inside the container, stared down at the plethora of items and gear slowly being covered by snowflakes. “That’s a hell of a cache…why would you have a cache, never mind one this big, out here behind your cabin?”
Jeremiah didn’t answer. He turned to face them, his hands up. “You should let me go,” he said.
Delmar laughed, but Thomas remained stone faced. “If you will hand over your weapons and the plug I will consider it,” Thomas said.
“What?” Thomas asked, incredulously. “We’re not letting him go anywhere. He’s going to tell us what his pet is…and where it is.”
“You do not look well, Mister Forsythe. Are you alright?” Jeremiah asked.
Thomas glanced over at his friend. The big man had his Russian style (Daniel had argued it was actually French) fur-lined hat on with the ear flaps pulled down. He had a neoprene scarf around his neck, so that only his face was exposed. Even then, Thomas could see it. Delmar’s face was completely red, and not from wind or snow. Sweat ran down his forehead and cheeks. He was sweating profusely. The cancer. Damnit! Please, Hero…tell me that you’ve brought medicine with you.
“Don’t look at me, Thomas. I’m fine. And we’re not letting this asshole go, either.”
Thomas turned back to Jeremiah and shrugged, acting unphased. “I’m inclined to agree with Delmar…but it would help if you handed me the plug and your pistol…nice and easy. Once that’s done, we’ll deal with your two rifles.”
Jeremiah thought about the situation. He could go for his pistol, probably get shot, but then he could not die from a gunshot wound, after all. It would hurt like hell, though, and what if the idiots dragged him back to the cabin, anyway…it would seem like a lot of trouble just to find that he was their captive anyway…and they, of course, would go ape shit when he woke up from being dead. He almost smiled at the thought. He prided himself in always finding humor in bad situations. It’s a gift.
He wondered what was wrong with Delmar, and hoped it was not as he suspected. Surely, he had not bitten the man last night. He tried to remember, but the beast’s actions were always sketchy, usually just a series of images that Jeremiah managed to form into a series of events. He could not recall whether or not he had bitten Delmar, but it would explain the man’s obvious condition. “Alright, Thomas. Well, I say that it’s all right, but then I have already told you that I don’t have the spark plug. I threw it as far as I could into the forest, and in this weather and with the snow on the ground, it would be like looking for the proverbial needle, wouldn’t it?”
Delmar cursed.
“I will give up my weapons, though, and you can take me back,” Jeremiah offered. I’ll leave it up to the weather, he thought. If darkness comes before we’re picked up, things will turn in my favor…at least for the night.
* * * * *
Smiling doctors and nurses had met Alan on the landing pad atop the Hospital roof, and there had been a warm reception for him once inside, but no one would listen to him when he tried to explain he had been attacked by a werewolf. He could not know how he looked and sounded…but perhaps he should have. Most people would not rant about werewolves, and the full moon and being cursed—unless, of course, they were playing it up at Halloween or having a good time after the latest wolfman flick.
The staff’s nods and insincere looks of concern, and especially their sideways glances only served to make Alan more insistent, louder, and eventually downright angry. He just could not make them understand that in a few hours he would be a foul beast intent on consuming the entire hospital staff. The doctors and nurses dropped their fake smiles and their patronizing nods of agreement when Alan struck a doctor square in the nose, smashing the appendage completely to one side, blood splattering all over the staff’s white or pastel-green coats. That was when hospital security got involved.
There were four guards, three being rather large men who carried ominous looks frozen on their faces…the fourth was a woman who had the rather large part down, but looked pretty scared when Alan spit at her. They wrestled Alan to the floor, but it took everything in them to do it. One of the guards would later comment to a news reporter that the man had “some sort of super-strength,” and that “if he hadn’t slipped on the contents of an overturned urinal, we’d have never taken him down.” But they had, and had managed to hold Alan still enough so that a doctor could jam a needle into the young man’s arm.
Alan awoke to find that he was strapped down to his bed…but he realized that he didn’t care. His vision changed back and forth from wildly blurry to a soft, blue haze. He was aware that he was talking, but had no idea what he was saying. No one else was in the room, but likely as not he wouldn’t have been able to tell one way or the other. He heard his voice, though, and the sounds definitely came from him, but they were garbled and had no inflection. Why was he talking anyway? What good would it do? His body relaxed as he gave up and drifted to sleep once more.
* * * * *
By the time they reached the cabin, Delmar could barely stand. As soon as they were back inside, the big man tore off his hat and jacket and collapsed on the floor beside Jenny. That left Thomas to deal with Jeremiah. Though he was worried for his friend, Thomas knew that the first order of business was to tie up Jeremiah.
“Sit on the bench. Over there,” Thomas said, using Jeremiah’s pistol to gesture toward the opposite side of the table. “Sit facing us, and please do not move once you are down.”
“May I not remove my coat, then?” Jeremiah asked, trying to sound meek.
“Yes, you may
. Slowly. Throw your coat and hat on the floor in the foyer.” Thomas reiterated, “Slowly.”
Thomas took a moment to kneel down and pet Jack, then ordered the dog back to the rug by the fireplace. “I’m going to need you to stay put, boy.”
Jeremiah did as ordered, then sat down on the bench and put his hands on the table as he looked into his living room at Delmar. The man was on the floor and, though he had removed his jacket and his neoprene shirt, he was drenched with sweat. Please let it be something else and not that he’s been bitten, Jeremiah thought. That is all that I need right now.
Thomas kept the pistol pointed at Jeremiah as he opened drawers and cabinets, finally locating a plastic bag of zip ties. “Everyone has them,” he said aloud. Jeremiah made no move to resist as Thomas bound his hands and then tied them securely to the bench. He had left enough slack so that Jeremiah could move his hands around, but making it so that it was impossible for him to get up and walk away from the bench. Thomas then searched Jeremiah’s jacket for the spark plug or other weapons. Frustrated when the plug wasn’t there, he searched Jeremiah. The plug was not on him. Why didn’t he just rip the wire off the damned thing? Thomas thought. I could have repaired that…but without the plug itself we’re screwed.
“Thomas,” Jenny called. “Delmar has a horrible fever and he’s unconscious, now. I can’t wake him up.” She was on the floor, kneeling next to Delmar, watching him breathe. “His breaths are shallow and fast.”
“Shit,” Thomas said. He went to the foyer and grabbed Jeremiah’s pistol belt, then strapped it around his waist. He could not constantly watch his prisoner, but he could get to the pistol quick enough if necessary. He knelt down next to Jenny and put a hand to Delmar’s forehead. “He really is burning, up.”
“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.
Thomas shook his head. “He has cancer,” he whispered. “It’s untreatable, but Delmar thought he would be fine for this trip.”
“I can still hear you,” Jeremiah said, sourly.
Thomas sighed. “It must be that.”
Jenny nodded. “It’s not like this has been an ordinary trip. I’m sure he wouldn’t have come if he knew this would happen.” She paused. “Not Delmar.”
Thomas tapped Delmar hard on both cheeks, but hid friend did not respond. “Well, there’s no need in trying to get him up on the couch. He’ll be alright down here until help comes.” He looked up. “Jen, there are blankets and pillows in the bedroom. Will you get some for him?”
She nodded.
“Steer clear of our Landlord, over there,” Thomas said.
“You will have to tell me all about that,” Jenny replied.
“Later. I promise I’ll tell you what I know.”
Jeremiah was glad to hear that the man had cancer. That probably explained everything…but still, he thought he saw what looked like healed puncture wounds on the man’s neck just at the shoulder. He sighed, resigned to let things come as they would. The man wouldn’t transform…not tonight, anyway. He might feel the urge tonight, if he woke up at all, but so far as he knew, a fledgling werewolf’s first time came only with the full moon. Hopefully, Jeremiah’s alter ego would forever end that opportunity once the sun went down. He felt fairly sure that the storm would not allow any aircraft to enter this part of the mountains tonight…at least not before dark. By then, Jeremiah would be gone. So, until then, he would be a model prisoner, perhaps he could even make his captors enjoy his company.
Thomas kept a wary eye on Jeremiah as he went through Delmar’s backpack and clothing. He found nothing, save a medic bag with emergency supplies…no prescription drugs for the cancer, nothing special at all. Jenny saw his frustration when he returned to help her.
“What’s the matter, now?” she asked.
“I thought that Delmar would have some special medication with him…some drugs or something, but he doesn’t. And I don’t know what to do.”
She began to unlace Delmar’s boots, as Thomas laid a pillow under his head. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Thomas. It might just be that exhaustion has brought the symptoms to the surface. Maybe once he rests for a while, he will be okay.”
Thomas nodded, but surprised himself when he pounded a fist on the floor. “I’m tired of being helpless!” He gritted his teeth. “I’m sick and tired of watching the people around me…watching them…”
Jenny put a hand on his shoulder. “Me too,” she said softly. “But rescue is coming soon, and we are really safe now. They will get him to a hospital and he will be fine. You’ll see.”
Thomas stayed on the floor and scooted over to the wall by the gun cabinet and next to Jack. He reached over and petted the Husky, then, unabashedly drifted onto one side until his head rested on the dog’s back. Jack swung his head around but could not quite reach Thomas’s face. He managed to lick Thomas’s hair, instead, and Thomas reached over to grasp a furry ear in his hand, scratching back and forth. “Good boy,” he said, as he had so many times before. “You’re a good boy, Jack.”
Jeremiah slapped the table repeatedly, as if applauding. “Now that is so very sweet, Thomas. I have to say that it is so refreshing to see that kind of love for a pet. It’s commendable, as well, I think.”
Thomas knew that the man was probably goading him, but the word “pet” reminded him that there was much to be said about the death’s of Daniel and Steven…and this man was likely the only one who could answer the questions on Thomas’s mind. He jumped up and went to sit opposite of Jeremiah. “So, tell me, Jeremiah….tell me about the animal that you’ve been chaining up out there. And please don’t repeat the nonsense about the diseased bear. I saw the damned thing’s face up close and personal. I’ve got the wounds on my neck to prove it.”
“First,” Jeremiah answered. “Call me Alastair. It’s my real name and I’m more comfortable with it.” He leaned back. “Second, the animal is not my pet and I don’t believe it is fair to say that I have been studying it. At least…not for a long time.” He smiled, seeing the anger manifest itself on Thomas’s face. “It’s certainly not part of any experiment.” He paused. “You said that you have wounds to prove you’ve seen it. Tell me, were you bitten?”
Thomas shook his head. “What is it, Alastair? What have you been doing with it if not some wacko genetic alterations…are you studying it?”
Alastair laughed. “Genetic alterations…I’m not a scientist, Thomas. I’m not conducting any experiments, I’m not studying it, and I can’t really say what it is. Not in the strictest sense, I mean. There must be a thousand definitions.”
“Give me just one.”
“Fine. It is a Rougarou.”
“A what?”
“You see what I mean? There must be a thousand words for it, and yet it…the animal…that was your word, Thomas…is an unknown species.” Alastair shook his head. “Goodness, Thomas, I used Rougarou because it is what you Louisiana natives call it.”
“I’ve never heard of any…how do you know where I am from?”
Alastair laughed and raised his hands from the table to point at Thomas. “I was right.” He chuckled. “Your accent is definitely southern and yet I would be remiss if I couldn’t identify the Cajun rolling off of your tongue. Or do you prefer Coonass?”
Thomas felt that even though Alastair was tied to the table, helpless, it was he who had the upper hand. He checked his anger. “Did you know before now that it has killed people? Did you know that it killed two of my friends…one of my best friends and also Jenny’s husband?” He turned to look at Jenny just as she lay back down on the couch. “Sorry, Jen.”
She didn’t reply. She turned her face inward and buried it into the cushions.
Alastair shook his head. “No,” he lied. “I didn’t know that it killed them and I didn’t know it had ever killed anyone.”
“Then, tell me what it is.”
“I just did, Thomas. You must trust me in that it is better that I do not describe it to you. You would not believe me anyway…no
t at first. If you recalled just a bit of your Cajun French you would understand the name.”
Thomas tried a new tack. “Why did you run from us?”
Alastair held his bound hands up for Thomas to see. “Because I feared this.”
“We’d have had no reason to hold you if you had not shut down the generator. Your running away? I couldn’t have cared less…but when you shut down the radio and endangered us all? That is why you are where you are. That, and the fact we saw your contraption.”
Alastair sighed. “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you that it was not you that I feared, and I don’t fear you now…but I do fear being taken off the mountain and ultimately held by the police. Oh, at first it will be only for questioning, but then after you tell then what you have learned, they will send others up here and they will find evidence of the…animal…and then I would be arrested. I cannot be in their custody when they find everything out.”
“If you are not guilty of anything, then it shouldn’t bother you.”
Alastair shrugged but said nothing.
“So, you fear that your role in what…that you took care of the creature? That they will learn that you are its caretaker? Is it that, Alastair, or are you even now protecting it? Maybe it’s not that you fear for yourself…maybe you don’t want it found.”
Beneath a Winter Moon Page 30
