Bark (The Werewolf Journal's Book 1)

by Sabian Masters

  “Thanks. I needed a new gun,” Jay said, grabbing the gun and sticking the .44 magnum in his jacket. Jay’s eyes filled with tears as Gulaunt held his right hand tightly in compassion.

  “I’m scared. I am so scared,” Jay said, embarrassed.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. Fear makes us strong. Makes us do things that we never thought we were capable of,” Gulaunt said, again patting Jay on the shoulders.

  “I held his baby. It was so beautiful. I don’t know if I can do it,” Jay said.

  “You have to and you will,” the Indian replied.

  “If I do get out of this alive, I’ll probably spend the rest of my life in jail.”

  “I’ll visit you if that happens. But if you survive, I’ll get you to the border. I know some people that can help you. Now go and do what you have to do,” Gulaunt said as Jay walked out of his house.

  “I almost forgot,” Jay said, walking back in. That notebook I gave you, it’s Arnie’s journal. He never finished it. I finished what I could. If I don’t make it, maybe you

  can – ”

  “What on earth do you expect me to do with it?” Gulaunt interrupted.

  “I don’t know. Maybe write a book,” Jay said, leaving.

  CHAPTER 60

  Roberta jumped out of her red Jeep, reaching for her gun. She had already radioed in for backup. She tailed Jay Summers, but there was no sign of his friend Arnie. The only thing she could think was that the Alvarez kid was hiding in the woods. That was the only reason Summers would be coming out here.

  It’s really stupid of me to go in without backup, she thought, waving her gun, pointing her flashlight toward the trees.

  “Welcome, Officer,” Arnie said, causing Roberta to fumble her hands against her gun.

  Roberta shined her flashlight on Arnie’s face as he stood leaning against the tree. “Don’t move, Alvarez!” Roberta ordered.

  “What are you going to do, Officer? Shoot me?” Arnie asked, stepping toward her.

  “I’m warning you, Arnie,” Roberta said, pointing her gun.

  “I think it is I that should be warning you.” Arnie stepped closer to Roberta as she backed away.

  “I’m warning you, kid. No one’s going to care if I pump your body full of bullets.”

  “Neither am I. Why don’t you shoot, Officer?” Arnie said, stepping closer. And as he did, Roberta fired her gun, shooting Arnie in the head. Arnie’s head tilted back as the bullet connected to his skull. Roberta watched in disbelief as smoke smoldered from his wound. He stood with a wicked smile, unaffected by the bullet.

  “You want to try again,” Arnie asked, knocking the gun out of Roberta’s hand.

  “What are you?” Roberta asked.

  “Come now, Officer. You’re no fool,” Arnie answered, revealing his sharp teeth.

  “Oh my God!” she said, feeling the cold hand of fear running against her body.

  “Trust me, God’s far from this place. Now you know the truth.” Arnie wrapped his hand around the officer’s petrified neck.

  “Please, I have a little boy,” she begged.

  “Really,” Arnie said, stopping momentarily. “No one seemed to care when my little boy was born,” Arnie replied, crushing Roberta’s neck with his hand. He then ripped her jugular out. Blood splattered against his face as Roberta’s body hit the ground. Arnie looked up at the moon, undaunted by what he was becoming.

  CHAPTER 61

  Father Bastin opened his door to find Jay standing there, asking him if he could talk.

  “Sure,” the father said, asking Jay to come in.

  Just as Father Bastin was turning to lead Jay into his living room, Jay hit the father over the head with a pipe, knocking him out. Jay then ran up the stairs to the father’s house where the baby’s room was, walking in. He could see a figure standing by the crib holding the baby.

  “I knew you would do this,” Jay said, reaching for his gun.

  “He’s beautiful,” Arnie said, stepping into the light.

  “I know, Arnie. Please put the baby down and get out of here,” Jay begged.

  “No, I won’t let you.” Arnie kicked Jay’s gun out of his hand.

  Jay then punched Arnie in the face, causing him to slam into the crib. Arnie set the baby down in the crib realizing that would be the only way he could protect the baby without harming it.

  “I really wished you hadn’t come here,” Arnie said, beginning to change.

  The baby in the crib screamed in fear as Jay picked his gun up. Arnie struggled to protect the baby as he changed, but before he did, Jay fired the gun into the crib. Blood spurted out, and the crying ceased.

  “Nooooooo!” Arnie screamed, pushing Jay away from the crib. Jay then clumsily fired his gun, just grazing Arnie on the shoulder.

  Arnie then crashed through the window of the house. Jay could hear the howling of the beast as it escaped through the woods. Jay ran out the house and into his truck. He prayed to God he was wrong, but judging on the direction the beast was headed, he knew where it was going. Jay started his truck and headed for his house.

  When Jay finally arrived, he knew he was too late. He turned off his truck, reached for his gun, and walked up to his house. The old screen door had been ripped apart. It screeched, swinging back and forth. Jay paused momentarily as he entered his house.

  He knew before he even saw the blood on the walls in his house that his father was gone. Tears slid down his cheek. Jay then turned around toward the doorway.

  The monstrous beast, Arnie, had become stood, breathing heavily, holding his father’s head in its claws. “I’m sorry, Arnie,” Jay said pointing his gun to the beast. I’m so sorry.” With that Jay fired two rounds into his friend’s body. But as he did, the creature hurled its body to Jay’s, opening its massive mouth, sinking its bloodstained teeth into Jay’s shoulder. Jay screamed in agony and terror as the large body collapsed on his. The creature began its change until all that was left was Arnie’s naked body lying on his. Jay pushed his friend’s body off him. He put his hand over his wound, realizing what had happened. Jay kneeled by his friend as Arnie coughed up blood,

  struggling to breathe.

  “I’m sorry, Jay,” Arnie said, trying to speak.

  “I’m sorry too.” Jay held his friend.

  Tears ran down the faces of the two friends. Jay then set his friend down and pressed the cold barrel of the gun against his friend’s head, holding Arnie’s hand in his. Arnie closed his eyes. With a pull of the trigger, Arnie’s suffering was over. He then looked into the chamber of his gun, seeing that he had one bullet left.

  CHAPTER 62

  Rodriguez walked into Jay’s house. Jay sat on his father’s old rocking chair, looking at the TV as he rocked back and forth, causing the chair to squeak. Rodriguez stepped over Arnie’s body over to Jay.

  “What the hell happened here, kid?” the inspector asked.

  “Hell. That’s what happened,” Jay replied, looking at the TV. “Do you like horror movies, Inspector?” Jay asked.

  “No. Never was into them.”

  “I did. I used to love a good werewolf movie. Want to know my favorite of all time? This one, the old classic werewolf movie,” Jay said, referring to the movie on his TV. “The effects on this suck but the concept of it all is good… even a man who is pure at heart, may become a werewolf when the wolf bane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.” Jay was quoting the movie. “Now that was a story. Do you believe in God, Inspector?” Jay added.

  “No. Not after being in the kind of work that I’m in.”

  “Have faith for if there are beasts like my friend roaming the earth, then there most certainly is a god of some sort. The only question is, is he one of love or is he one of hate? I need to tell you something, Inspector. It’s a secret,” Jay said, urging him closer.

  “What is it kid?” the inspector asked, putting his hand over the frame of the rocking chair that Jay was sitting on.

  “Do you believe in werewo
lves?” Jay asked.

  “What?” Rodriguez said, nodding his head.

  “I could make you believe, Inspector.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of things in life, but I’ll never believe in anything like that.”

  “You will,” Jay said, biting the inspector’s hand.

  Rodriguez painfully pulled away, kicking Jay out of the chair and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Rodriguez hollered.

  “Now, Inspector, you will know what it’s like to bark at the moon,” Jay said, pulling out his gun and placing it under his chin. Jay then pulled the trigger, sending his brains splattering against the pictures that hung on the wall.

  Inspector Rodriguez reached for a handkerchief, wrapping his hand. And as he did, he shook his head, looking at the teen that lay dead before him. He noticed a picture frame in the hands of the boy who had taken his own life. Rodriguez took the picture out of his hand and threw it to the floor, saying, “What a shame!” In the picture were four teenagers posed on a beach hugging one another, each with their whole life in front of them. He had met all of them, with the exception of Danny Renold.

  What could have driven them to all this death? Rodriguez thought, throwing the picture on the floor, walking out as the old woman on the TV spoke, “The way that you walk was thorny through no fault of your own, but as the rain enters the soil, they will enter the sea. So tears run through a predestined end. Your suffering is over now. You will find peace for eternity.”

  The woman’s words echoed as two men dressed in white placed Jay’s and Arnie’s bodies on stretchers, wheeling them into the ambulance while a young girl the same age as the teenagers in the ambulance looked on hiding in the shadows.

  CHAPTER 63

  Father Bastin sat on his old faded couch, crying. He ran a rosary through his hands, holding it against his white shirt, which was stained with blood. “If I had known, I would have never let that boy in,” the father said with disbelief.

  “Was this the boy that did this?” Rodriguez said, showing a picture of Jay Summers.

  “Yes,” the father said, trying to regain himself. “Why would he do something like this? It was just a little baby.”

  “If it means anything, we have caught him, and well, he’s dead,” Rodriguez said, placing his hand on the father’s shoulder.

  “That won’t bring the baby back.” The father got up from the couch and walked over to his kitchen to get coffee.

  “The irony of it all is just yesterday the baby that was here was adopted. Samantha arrived only two days ago, and now she’s gone,” the father said. “Even at the midst of

  all this, I just cant help but think that there’s something special about that baby.”

  “You mentioned another baby?” Inspector Rodriguez asked, wondering.

  “Yes, Dominic. I think that’s who Mr. Summers came to kill. I just can’t see how. The way he held that baby.”

  “Was that the baby that was found outside the cemetery?” Inspector Rodriguez asked.

  “Correct. You would have thought he was the father.” The priest poured coffee into a white mug.

  “Who knows? Maybe he was. I’ll have the department run a DNA test on the deceased,” the inspector said.

  “So much carnage has transpired over the last year, Inspector. I pray it will end,” the father said.

  “I think it already has, Father.”

  “That baby that died tonight will haunt my dreams for as long as I live,” the father said again, sitting down on his couch.

  “That’s why we’re able to wake up so that we can remember that they’re only dreams, Father,” Rodriguez pointed out.

  “I wish I could wake up from this one, Inspector,” the father said, sipping his coffee.

  “I’ve seen a lot of things this last year, Father. Things that nobody should see. I don’t sleep much, and when I do, it’s only for a few hours at a time. I wake up every night praying that I can forget about those faces of the people that I’ve seen murdered, but I never do. They’re still there every day of my life.” Rodriguez started to walk out of the house.

  “What do you do to cope? the father asked.

  “I already told you. I pray, and when that doesn’t work, I pray some more. You, out of all people, should know that,” Rodriguez said, walking out of the father’s house and stepping into his car. He reached for his matches in his coat pocket. He put his cigar in his mouth, watching the lights of the ambulance flash. “Any word on Officer Roberta yet?” Rodriguez asked, radioing in to headquarters.

  “No,” the voice replied.

  He turned on his stereo, raising the volume as the song “Hungry Like A Wolf ” by Duran, Duran played. The inspector drove off, thanking God that the town’s nightmare has finally been caught. He lit his cigar, looking at the bloody bandage on his hand. He then looked up at the full moon and laughed, whispering to himself, “Werewolves”.

  CHAPTER 64

  Arnie’s Poems

  Heaven Nowhere to Be Found

  There’s a lake of fire beneath my feet and sheets of blood cover my bed. Skulls of demons cover my walls and I begin my never ending fall. Red, dirty wings pierce through my back and sharp, tiny horns crash through my skull. There’s an abyss of blackness at the end of the hall and horrific laughs fill the air. Screams of agony and despair and a tearing at my skin as the flames of the river swallow my sin. I’m alive not dead in a den of pain and everyone around going insane. Hounds with faces that look like mine run around always barking ugly sounds. Everything spinning round and round. Heaven out of reach nowhere to be found.

  Knocking

  There’s a knocking on my door. I hear it more and more as the rain begins to pour and no one but me lives here anymore. I feel like going mad but something stops me. Maybe it’s the knocking at the door. I really can’t tell anymore. I feel like crying far from dying, but there’s still that awful knocking at the door. I hear a scream maybe a dream. Nothing really is what it seems. I close my eyes and hold my pillow tight. Something here is far from right. I see a light underneath the door and someone stepping on the floor and inside me, saying, “Please no more.” I hear a voice. Is it my dear, or is it something evil near? What is it? The worst I fear. There it is again. The knocking at the door. It’s quarter to four. I can’t take no more but the knocking grows and the wind blows and something outside hides. I feel scared. I cannot bear whatever it is that says beware. I want to wake, don’t want to shake. I want out but I have to wait. It’s so late, ain’t this great? The knocking’s there. I dare not go anywhere. It’s not fair. No one cares, but I’m still here in the dark, naked and bare. I know it’s there. I’m so scared I feel like pulling on my hair. I sit on a chair. I want to go somewhere but that knocking’s there like some haunting nightmare. I close my eyes and go to sleep and say my prayers, my soul to keep. If I wake and the knocking’s there then I’ll count some sheep and fall back to sleep. Then I’ll do the same again and if there’s still a knocking there then I guess I’ll never go nowhere.

  Change

  The moon shines bright. I try to fight but cannot resist the calling of its light. I feel myself slipping as sweat from my body starts dripping. The evil inside grows as blackness fills my mind. The time has come again for the world to meet my friend. He sends his son, the beast, which is born every night when the time is right. A change takes place as I lose my face. I try to say grace but my memory is erased. I see red as people I know surround me all dead. There’s a howling that I hear again and again as rage and hate consume what I am and the beast inside runs wild through the land.

  Damned

  I am beast. I am man. I wear the mark upon my hand. I am damned, yes, I am. I am scorned. With each new moon I am born. I am torn. My skin is used and worn.

  I feel alive looking through the beast’s eyes. I cannot fight. I need a bite even though it’s far from right. I’m slipping and my soul is dipping for to hell will soon be shipping.

  Fate

&nbs
p; Evil deeds through flesh I feed. Blood-filled skies as Mommy cries. The prince of lies spreads its wings and flies. Red, watery rivers and sights that make me shiver. Alone I roam in this place I call my home. I feel myself wanting to hide and the little boy inside asks why. Heaven no longer wants me because of my continuing urge to feed. I cannot help it, can’t they see? I long to rid myself of this curse and be free. My fate was written the day I was bitten.

  Dead Lights

  Dead lights in front of me. I can’t see. I’m blinded. Faces that look disfigured pass me, screaming hysterically. I’m cold and scared, don’t know which way to go, but what can I do? I’m at my crossroads. I want to fly and escape, build a brand-new life. I need a way to release all this hate. I can’t wait, it’s so damn late. Need to breed, need to live on so this song I sing can go on. Dying inside. The child within tries to hide. Surrounded by lies, heartbroken cries, and someone I love always dies. Dead lights in front. I’m blinded and can’t see. All I want is to live and be free.