Slowly, Doris pulled her hand away from the rifle's trigger and pressed it against the breast pocket of the nightshirt, feeling for the last egg shell. "It's broken," she said.
All they had now was Samuel's gun -to be saved at all cost for his suicide mission- plus the six shots left to Max and Doris. And Lloyd Stonehill's knife.
"On the count of three, we're going to switch guns. One ... two ... three ..."
They switched. The Beast charged. Max started firing. A spray of blood erupted, glittering under the moon, but the Beast kept coming, pounding down on them. A shotgun blast rang in Max's ear, a bigger, brighter spray of blood peppered his face and, shrieking, the Great Beast careened into them both, then tumbled out of the circle.
Max rolled, heard another shotgun blast, aimed and fired at the Beast's retreating haunches. A trail of silver-tinged blood followed the Beast. He felt Doris's hand on his shoulder and he struggled up.
"It's hurt!" she said.
It had made it out of close range again, but the Great Beast's hind legs lay limp against the ground. Against its glowing fur, near the tail, a broad, dark blotch spread. They could see the Beast's sides heaving as it lowered its head toward the wound and began licking.
Gasping for breath, Doris pointed and said, "It's got a head wound, too."
Max nodded. "But the one at the haunches is worse."
For one, precious moment, hope returned. Go after it! Now or never . He checked his rifle. Hope evaporated. He looked desperately to Doris. Tears rimmed her eyes. She shook her head. Both the rifle and the shotgun were empty.
The Beast struggled back onto its feet. It was watching them. They were done.
"It'll realize soon," Max said, his voice sounding hollow and defeated in his own ears. He reached to his side and laid his hand against Lloyd Stonehill's knife. "Doris ... I want you over with Mina and Samuel. Don't try to take David with you."
"No ..."
"You can't get to them in time if you try to drag David --"
"No, I'm staying."
"There's no point. If you have any chance at all--"
"I don't have any chance. None of us do." Her voice caught. "We're used up."
She stepped out of the circle and started walking toward the Beast.
"Doris!"
She called out, "Andrew!"
"Doris, stop!"
"Andrew! Can you hear me?"
* * *
A voice, calling. We should know the voice. We should know the name its calling.
"Andrew! Son? Can you hear me?"
The voice was plaintive, filled with anguish. Andrew, detached and yet bound, floating and yet crushed, struggled to rise, struggled to be Andrew, struggled to open his eyes.
But his eyes were already open and used by another.
Let me see. Let me see.
"Andrew! Please! Please, hear me!"
Darkness lifted. Images swam, lurched and tilted. Where am I? Who is that? Ma? No ...not Ma ... but like her .. someone ... I loved her. Moms. He tried to say that, he tried to call to her. Moms . But when he did, everything went black and he heard something altogether different. Not even a voice. A snarl.
Pain made its way to him now, deep and searing. Images swam again until he focused on where his legs used to be, his own legs, buttocks and spine. But what pitched and wavered before him was a great, glistening haunch, the glowing fur matted with silver-tinged blood. A deep tear exposed muscle.
Pain and blood came from above him, too, in what should be his head. But it wasn't as bad. Once more, everything tilted and Andrew found himself looking ahead again, at the woman in the distance, walking toward him ... toward us.
Who was she, again? He had already forgotten. Her arms were open. To welcome him back? To embrace him? No. She was showing him she didn't have a weapon. And then he remembered who she was, where he was. Anguish flooded him. Anguish and hatred.
Kill her , he said. Kill her, and let me see.
* * *
Max caught up with Doris. "I know what you're doing," he said. "It won't work with him like it did with me. He's too far gone."
She ignored him and called out, "Andrew! Leave the others! All right? I'll come to you if you leave everyone else."
The Great Beast stopped snarling and took several limping steps in her direction, then eyed Max and began a swing toward the north. Doris stopped walking.
"Go away, Max."
Instead, Max brought his lips close to her ear, whispering urgently, "He's not yours anymore, Doris! They're bound together and, together, they're going to kill us all."
"No. If Andrew can hear me, we can bargain ..." She began walking again. The Beast, still moving, watched as she kept coming.
Max stayed with her. "The Beast doesn't bargain, Doris, you know that. Look at it! Look !"
She hesitated. This close to her, Max could feel her tremble as he spoke. He saw tears spill over her cheeks. "Andrew!" she shouted, then once more. But the second time, his name came out strangled. The Great Beast tilted its misshapen head, its stare cold and hollow.
"Andrew," she whispered. Her shoulders sagged.
Max felt her take his hand and squeeze it.
Clasping back, he brought his free hand to the knife's hilt and slowly drew out the blade. He stepped away, letting the Great Beast see Doris's fingers curled over his one hand and the knife in the other. The Beast was still making a limping circuit, north by northwest, putting itself in a position to see everyone: Max and Doris, front and center, David lying unconscious on the ground, Mina and Samuel, with their last two bullets, in the car. It stopped short, took in their clasped hands, Stonehill's knife and uttered a low, rumbling growl.
Max stepped in front of Doris. He held his arms out and shouted, "What's the hold up, you fucking flea bag!"
The Great Beast snarled. Its gaze flitted over Max's shoulder and fixed on Doris. It took several limping paces to Max's left, but he stepped between the Beast and Doris again.
"Oh no. Uh-uh. You want her? You come through me."
The Beast belted out a blood-curdling roar and moved back toward Max's right. He blocked the way to Doris again.
"Not gonna happen, Andrew!" Max raised his free hand and made a goading, come hither motion. "Come on, buddy, whatiya say! You 'n' me. Arm and arm, right into Hell!"
The Great Beast charged. Max planted his feet and thrust the knife forward. He heard Doris scream, he saw the Beast leave the ground, its jaws stretch wide, opening to take him, Great Almighty God, make my hand strong!
The Great Beast's chest exploded .
Bone, blood and tissue sprayed across Max as he hit the ground, the Beast's head cratering the soil in front of him. Its eyes - Andrew's eyes- glared at him, outraged, the Beast's jaws working, snapping, struggling to drag in breath or reach Max, he wasn't sure. Then the pupils dilated and the Beast's great, red tongue -steaming in the night's chill- dropped against the earth.
Max sat up, disoriented and uncertain, trying to get a fix on what just happened. He looked at Stonehill's knife, bloodless, still in his hand. Doris was sobbing behind him, pulling at his shoulders and he heard Mina nearby trying to rouse David. He looked to the east and saw two people some twenty yards away standing like statues, their big-barreled guns still trained on the corpse of the Great Beast. It took a moment for him to realize who they were.
The taller, thinner of the gunners lowered his weapon and let out a whoop.
"Not so fast, son," the other said. Then, to Max, she called out, "Would you call that dead?"
Max struggled to his feet. "Yeah, Millie ... I'd call that dead."
She lowered the gun, pulled a bandanna out of the back pocket of her Levi's and mopped her face as she and her son hurried over to them.
"Sweet Jesus, I thought you was a goner!"
Max grabbed Doris, held her tight for a long moment, and then joined Mina next to David. Mina had him roused to a groggy consciousness. Millie dropped her gun and knelt next to Mina.
&nb
sp; "How bad-a shape's he in? You his woman, honey?"
Mina looked at Max. "Who is this?"
"It's ... Millie," Max replied, still dazed, "... and her son, Jackie." A rush of soul-deep joy flooded through him as it finally sank in: My God! My God! It's over!
He yanked Millie up and into a bear hug. "Millie! Millie! What the hell are you doing here!"
Millie squirmed away, looking somewhere between disgusted, embarrassed and pleased. She took her bandanna and wiped at the gore Max's hug left on her. "Got lost lookin' for the local Tasty Freeze. Whatiya think we're doin' here?"
Max went for Jackie next, grabbing his hand with both of his and pumping it hard.
"Ow, godamighty, Mr. Max, easy does it, awright?"
"Sorry. Sorry, Jackie, it's just ..." He stepped back, and ran a hand through his spattered hair, still not daring to really believe. We're alive! We're all alive! Doris was closest to him again and he pulled her against him once more. Over her shoulder he shouted for Samuel.
"He's all right," Mina told him. "We all are. We're all ... alive!"
Doris pulled away from Max, lay her hand against his heart for a moment, then walked away to kneel next to the remains of the Great Beast. She buried her face in her hands.
Not all of us , he thought, as he watched her there, grieving for her son.
* * *
Huddled around a fire, no one said a word as the full moon sank below the horizon. Doris watched it leave, then leaned against Max and pressed her face into his shoulder. He tucked the old army blanket more snugly around her shoulders, and then wrapped his arm around her. He knew what she was thinking. He was thinking it, too. If the shots that had torn through the Great Beast's heart had, instead, been to the pelvic basin, would Andrew be swaddled in blankets right now, resting with David and Samuel, reconciled with Doris?
Or, bereft of the only thing that had ever made him feel powerful, would he have waited until they had all fallen into an exhausted sleep, then finished the job for the Great Beast?
Millie looked over at Doris, then toward her own son, then back at the camp fire, her eyes troubled. Max had a good idea of what Millie was thinking, too. She cleared her throat.
"I'm ... I am sorry about your boy ..."
Doris stiffened and righted herself. Millie tried to look at Doris without taking her eyes from the fire. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Doris rose and left for the front seat of the Rambler. She coaxed David up, settled his head back onto her lap and leaned against the seat, closing her eyes.
Max looked at Millie and said, "She's just going to need some time."
" 'Course. 'Course she is."
"We owe you our lives," Mina said, "She knows that."
"Nuh-uh," Jackie replied. He was rubbing the barrel of his bear gun with a chamois he had fetched from his and Millie's station wagon, now parked near the other cars. Buttercup was sprawled at his feet. "We was the ones with a debt to square."
His hair had grown back since the last time Max had seen him: a carrot top, like his mother. A broad stripe of silver stretched from his left temple and disappeared into the curly red mop toward the back. He seemed much older. Fiercer.
"Is that why you're here? To square up? " Max asked.
Jackie shrugged. "Sure. That, and we thought hard on what you 'n' David said. About bein' hunters. But we ain't gotta Ham radio, so we took the map you drawed for us and decided to just come on."
A weak voice, from the front of the Rambler, asked, "You couldn't have ... written?" It was David.
Mustering a smile, Millie twisted around in his direction. "Neither of us is much good at that, other'n to make our marks. How you feelin' in there?"
"I shouldn't ... be here."
Max got up, dusting off the seat of his pants. "Yeah, well, none of us should."
David's voice found some strength. "You know what I mean, Max."
He walked over to the Rambler and leaned on the car door. David looked at him, his eyes filled with a pain Max knew had nothing to do with his injuries. Doris was petting David's forehead, trying to calm him.
"I know what you mean," Max said, unrepentant.
"You should've let me --"
"Bullshit. No, I shouldn't. What the hell do you think we'd do without you?"
David's jaw tightened. He swallowed hard and a tear tracked away from one eye.
"What would we do without you?" Max said again, his voice cracking.
Doris leaned down and kissed David's forehead. He reached for her hand.
"I'm putting you all in danger," he said.
For a few moments, there was nothing to hear but the crackle of the campfire. Nothing to say, because they all knew David was right. Nothing to say because, in spite of that, they would not let one of their own die bitten.
Then Samuel struggled up from the back seat. "Listen to me .. David ... you gotta dance at my wedding."
"Weddin'?" Millie exclaimed and burst into a wide grin. "Why, Buttercup loves weddin's! Don't she, Jackie?"
THE END
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Table of Contents
Bitten
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
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Bitten Page 29
