FULL MOON ISLAND

by Terry Yates

  “Are you listening to me, Wilby?” she asked him. “Wilbur Munn!”

  Wilbur snapped to, adjusted his glasses, and then looked at Opal who was staring at him, her new big eyes looking a little strange. She had changed since the bite, that was obvious, but Wilbur couldn’t care less. He had been so worried that she would die after breaking her hip…many elderly citizens seem to for some reason, but here she was, walking and talking as if she had the energy of three people.

  “No ma’am, I must’ve missed it,” he answered.

  “I was saying that bad things are about to take place. Ba-a-a-d things! Bad things for some. Good things for others. We’ll find our own little place somewhere, and live there, just you and I, forever and ever!”

  Wilbur smiled as she continued on, not really catching much of it, but he didn’t really care. He was with his Grammy. She was excited and that was all that mattered. He began to think of a little cottage somewhere where they could live and he would tend the garden and she would cook, and every night they would watch “Wheel of Fortune” together, and each try to be the first one to solve the phrase just like they had done for most of his life. He found that he no longer cared for the things he couldn’t have or for being someone he wasn’t.

  As he let himself drift away, Wilbur noticed that Opal was no longer speaking. At some point, probably when he was dreaming about gardening their own vegetables, she had stopped talking. When he realized this, he snapped to. Opal was now staring at something just over his head. He looked behind him but saw nothing…but she did, because she was not even blinking.

  “Grammy?” he asked. Nothing. “Grammy?”

  Opal, who had been sitting down on a bench across from Wilbur, now stood up, keeping her eyes fixed on whatever it was that had caught her attention. Wilbur continued to sit and look up at Opal who had begun to slowly sway from left to right, back and forth, like a cobra just before it struck. A trickle of what looked like thick, white puss began to run down both sides of her mouth.

  “Gramma…Grammy!”

  Wilbur arose and stepped up to Opal. He was looking into her eyes, but she wasn’t looking into his. Their eyes were locked, but she was staring right through him.

  “Grammy!” Wilbur said loudly, putting his hands on her shoulders, and gently shaking her. “Grammy! What is it?”

  As he looked at Opal, he became confused for a moment. He was staring almost eye to eye with Opal. He was 5’8” and she only 5’3”, but here she was, looking him dead in the eye. He looked down at her foot. She wasn’t standing on anything, but her nightgown was now barely covering her knees, where usually it was about ankle length.

  “Grammy!” he screamed again, becoming more nervous.

  He was about to shake her harder, when he noticed something. Her eyes were no longer big and brown, they were now slit with the pupils elongated up and down, much like a cat’s eyes…and her eyebrows seemed to be almost coming to a point like a unibrow, with just a small gap of skin keeping them from connecting.

  Wilbur removed his glasses, quickly wiped the lenses, then put them back on again hoping that his grandmother would be short again and her eyebrows would be back to normal, but he was wrong. Not only had her eyes remained in slits, but the unibrow was now complete, and the hair bushier than it had been before, and now he was having to look UP into her eyes.

  Wilbur’s legs began to buckle. Someone had put something in his food and he was hallucinating. That had to be it. The people that ran this place had deliberately laced the food with some sort of poison or hallucinogen just in case they ever had to abandon it, possibly to an enemy, or to a group of stranded refugees, and this is what would happen. They would be poisoned to death so that they could never tell the outside world about what they had seen in this place. They would be dead. That had to be it.

  Wilbur’s legs were about to go out, his fear of death having taken every inch of elasticity out of them. He sat down on the bench opposite his grandmother and watched her. The top of her eye sockets began to bulge through the skin giving her an angry Cro-Magnon look.

  He flinched as she let out a roar, her mouth open wider than would seem possible. Her mouth receded back toward her ears as if she were smiling the biggest smile anyone had ever seen. It was almost as if she had zippers running along the side of each cheek connecting her mouth to her neck. He could see every tooth in her mouth. Whatever hallucinogens they had put in the food were causing her teeth to look larger…and pointed. Hair began to sprout, first from her forehead, and then to her cheekbones, which were already rising toward the top of her skull. Wilbur looked down and held his head in his hands. He was losing his mind. The army had killed him, or if not killed him, destroyed his mind. He began to sob uncontrollably. Another scream from Opal caused him to flinch. He covered his ears and looked down at the floor where he saw that his grandmother’s feet were now five times as large and covered with hair. He heard her skin tear as claws began to grow out of her toes. She cried and wailed in pain, but it didn’t sound like his grandmother. Now it sounded like an animal, possibly a dog or a wolf.

  As he cried, he closed his eyes and kept his hands over his ears. He began to rock back and forth. The army. The damned army. They had planned this all along. Everyone on the island had been given the hallucinogen. They were being experimented on. There had been no hurricane, much less two back to back…and that poor man. He had never become a monster. They were made to believe that he had been. Those people hadn’t died because of a werewolf. They were either still alive or possibly part of the plan…part of the experiment. That’s it. They were all in on it.

  He continued to rock back and forth and cover his ears, but he was no longer crying. His tears had dried up once he had figured everything out. He was chuckling now, waiting for his mind to completely go. It wasn’t so bad going insane. It wasn’t hurting him. Sure, he wished it didn’t look like his grandmother was turning into a werewolf, and standing right in front of him, and grunting, and howling like a wolf, but there was no pain in losing one’s mind. That was the great thing. It’s painless, and he was pretty sure that wherever his mind or body went, he would always be somewhere close to his grandma.

  Where he had been crying uncontrollably just moments before, he was now giggling uncontrollably, his voice high like a girl’s when he laughed. As he kept his head down, he could swear he could feel hot breath on the top of his head, blowing through his hair like a blow-drier. Opal was probably saying something to him, but since he was hallucinating, he would naturally hear something else.

  He continued to laugh as two seemingly giant hands with several seemingly giant claws grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and picked him up into the air. Wow, he thought to himself, my hallucination is actually hurting me. Boy, those imaginary claws were smarting.

  Still laughing, Wilbur opened his eyes and saw that he was face to face with his hallucination. His grandmother’s face was completely covered with hair. She now had a long snout with a triangular black nose on the tip of it, which was no more than two inches from his. When the other man had changed into a werewolf, he was completely covered with brown hair. Grammy…or the illusion of Grammy, had long white hair sprouting up from the top of her head, which flowed like a lion’s mane down her back. Her ears were pointed and stood straight up like a dog’s would.

  Wilbur giggled and “tee-heed” and snorted and guffawed. The drugs had made him see his grandmother as a werewolf and, he had to admit, a funny looking werewolf. He heard a low rumble come from deep down inside her…a guttural canine growl, like a dog that was guarding its food bowl. Her claws dug deeper into him, and she was breathing in slow, long, rasps. Her canine mouth had formed into a snarl, giving her a hungry look, but he knew it was just Grammy. She had probably just noticed that he was hallucinating and was trying to snap him out of it.

  “It’s no use, Grammy,” he wanted to say. “The drugs are just too powerful, but we can be together now forever. Don’t worry about me. Just change m
y diaper once in a while, and spoon feed me my baby food and I’ll be fine.”

  As the thing’s mouth opened, Wilbur noticed her teeth. Instead of her usual stubby, yellow teeth, she had nice, big, sharp pearlies, which seemed to be growing with each passing moment. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, causing Wilbur to think that the hallucination was showing off its teeth. He began to giggle again, even as the claws dug deeper and the mouth grew larger. He guessed that this must be what a bad trip in the 60’s must’ve been like, but he wasn’t afraid, because he knew that it was just his dear old grandma. He laughed harder even as he could feel her hot breath in his face….and it had the fetid odor of decay about it. Wow! This trip must be in “Smellaround”. Smellaround! Now, he was laughing at his own jokes. He would show the army that they couldn’t kick him around anymore…well, they still might, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t know it. His brain would be elsewhere. He laughed hysterically at the thought of getting one up on the army. They wanted to play? He’d show them. He’d look the hallucination in the face and laugh.

  “Grammy,” he said overtly childlike, his giggling even higher now. “What big teeth…”

  Before he could finish, the beast clamped its jaws on each side of his head and began to close them around his skull. He laughed as the teeth began to sink into his face, causing his skull to start gradually imploding. He laughed as he felt his cheekbones shatter to a pulp, and he laughed uproariously as his jaws collapsed and several of the hallucinations teeth severed his tongue, filling his mouth with blood and flesh.

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!” he continued, until his brain was torn from his head.

  CHAPTER 53

  “What was that?” Sylvia Morrison squealed. She looked up to see everyone turned toward the door. They had heard it, too.

  “Probably the wind,” answered Samantha, who was now sitting between the two of them. She had not spoken, or even looked at Kyler and Zora since her failed attempt on Kyler.

  “Wind?” Gringo shot back. “How can there be wind inside this place? We’re what…twelve…thirteen floors down?”

  Samantha ignored him, but no one else did. They had all heard something. It had been very faint…like someone was singing, they weren’t sure. As they were about to go back to the movie, Lauren, who had her hand on the back of Joe’s neck, felt his hackles begin to rise. His muscles stiffened, and he began to emit a low growl.

  “Get away from him, Lauren,” Ariella told her, thinking that maybe the dog had become rabid.

  Everyone began to look at the dog, each staying extremely still as not to alarm him. Michael Blum tried to stay as still as possible, trying to keep from moving his broken leg. FranAnne reached down and felt for her sidearm, but it wasn’t there. She had taken the clip out and stuck the pistol inside one of her boots that was next to her cot. Sam Fong slowly reached down for his flashlight. He would brain the dog if he had to.

  Kyler, who had showered and taken a few aspirin for his head, back, and balls, was sitting next to Zora on his cot. The two of them slowly stood up.

  “Nobody move,” Kyler said, especially you, Zack.”

  Zack was sitting next to Michael now that his father was asleep. He had stretched his leg out, and right then, it was no more than two feet from the dog’s face.

  “He’s fine,” Lauren told the nervous group, patting his head even harder.

  “Lauren!” Locklear had wanted to yell at her but thought better of it. “Stop that.”

  “It’s not him, it’s…”

  At that moment, they heard a howl that echoed throughout the corridors. Everyone jumped up at once.

  “Oh no,” Sylvia moaned.

  It was in the building, and had somehow made its way down thirteen floors. Everyone was petrified. Rob Olsen was even awake, his eyes glazed, and staring at the ceiling.

  The thing howled again. This time, Joe was up and headed for the door.

  “Joe!” Lauren squealed. “No!”

  “Quiet!” Gringo told her, closing his robe.

  “Joe!” Lauren said softer this time. “No! No! Bad doggie!”

  Joe, who was now standing in the doorway, looked back at Lauren, and then ran out the door.

  “No!” Lauren cried, trying to run after him, but Sam Fong and Gringo were too quick and grabbed her.

  “No!” she cried.

  “We’ve gotta do something!” Locklear said loudly.

  “Keep quiet!” Kyler told the group.

  Everyone screamed as the werewolf let out another howl, followed closely by Joe’s growling.

  “Get down everyone!” Kyler told them, running toward the door. He flipped the light switch off. Everyone immediately hit the floor while Kyler, still on his stomach, peeked out the door and looked down the lit hallway. He didn’t know what good it would do to hide from the thing. It either already knew they were there, or according to Klefka’s story, it could probably sniff them out.

  He couldn’t see anything down the hall, but he could hear the creature and Joe lowly growling at each other.

  “Do you see it?” came a voice, causing Kyler to jump. It was Zora. He had not heard her crawl up beside him.

  “No,” he whispered back. “It’s…”

  At that moment, the two adversaries both became silent.

  “What’s going on?”

  Kyler jumped again. He turned to find Gringo on the other side of him, also trying to peek out the door.

  “I don’t know,” Kyler answered him. “They’re both quiet.”

  He had no sooner said this, than they heard both dog and beast going at it, both growling and snarling. The two were fighting. Poor Joe, Kyler thought to himself. He knew that the much smaller dog probably wouldn’t have a chance at a seven-foot werewolf, but he wouldn’t go out without a fight. The growling, barking, and snarling had turned into a full-fledged melee, the sound of bodies hitting the corridor walls. The fight continued on, so they knew that Joe was still in it.

  “What can we do?” asked Gringo, looking nervous.

  “The only thing we can do,” Zora answered back. Stay quiet and hope the thing doesn’t find us.

  “Where the hell’s Potts and the other two?” Gringo asked angrily.

  Kyler had been wondering that himself. The only people other than FranAnne who had weapons were leaving them to their own devices, which were nil. FranAnne! Kyler shifted his body around on the floor, and began crawling toward FranAnne’s cot. He needn’t have, for FranAnne was already there and removing the pistol from its holster.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  Kyler looked at her and started to speak, but he had absolutely nothing to say. He didn’t know what they were going to do. What could they do? He looked at her and just shrugged helplessly.

  “We have another problem,” FranAnne said.

  “What?”

  “Shelly and the baby are gone.”

  Kyler turned around and searched the dark room. He hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t there.

  “Where did she go?”

  “She said she was going to change the baby, and then give her a bath.”

  “Her? Give the baby a bath? In her condition?”

  Kyler saw that FranAnne was looking at him as if he were about to blame her for letting Shelly go somewhere alone, which he probably would have under normal circumstances, but he wasn’t going to put that burden on her shoulders right now.

  “We have to go get her, FranAnne.”

  FranAnne silently nodded her head and the two of them belly crawled back to the door where Zora and Gringo still stood watch.

  “Anything?” Kyler asked.

  Zora shook her head.

  “That mutt’s hangin’ in there, boy,” Gringo said. To Kyler, he looked like a little boy who was lying on the floor listening to a boxing match on the radio. He was right. The snarling and the growling continued. That’s it, Joe, Kyler thought. Stay in there.

  “We’ve got a situation,” Kyler said.

>   “What is it?” Zora asked.

  “Shelly and the baby aren’t here,” FranAnne told her.

  “Shit!” Zora hissed, sounding like “sheet”.

  “We’ve got to get her,” Kyler told them. By this time, Sam Fong had joined them.

  “Maybe one of us should go now while Joe’s got that thing distracted,” Sam said.

  At that moment, they heard Joe let out a yelp, followed by the angry howl of the werewolf.

  “Oh no…” Zora moaned.

  No sooner had she said when Kyler grabbed her arm.

  “Look!” he whispered.

  From around the corner, ran Joe, followed closely by the angry werewolf, which was slightly limping. As Joe ran by the dark room, they could see that the werewolf had made a notch in one of his ears, the blood dripping down the side of his head, but other than that, he looked okay. The dog looked at the quartet lying on the floor, and took off running faster down the hallway. They ducked their head to the floor as the werewolf ran by the doorway. When they looked up, they saw the beast disappear around the corner of another hallway.

  “Did you see its hair? Kyler asked, noticing the long white main that ran down its back. The hair reminded him of Opal.

  “Dammit!” he exclaimed.

  “What?” Zora asked.

  “Opal and Wilbur! They’re gone, too!”

  “I saw ‘em in the laundry room after my shower,” Gringo told him. “They were doing his laundry or something.”

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Kyler muttered.

  “I’ll go and find Shelly and one of you can go get Wilbur and Miss Munn,” FranAnne said. “Problem is…there’s only one pistol.”

  “I’ll go and get them while you get Shelly and the baby,” Kyler told her.

  “I’ll go with you,” Zora said.

  “No,” Kyler shot back.

  “I’m going with you,” she told him, placing her hand on his wrist.

  “Well…” he started, “maybe if three of us are out there, we can cause a diversion here and there if we have to.”