Sarah was out of breath, her breaths coming in short gasps. Her lungs burned. She was pretty sure she had lost Clint and was about to give up. A snapping sound of metal breaking to her right caught her attention. She turned. It was behind the house in front of her. The sound was quickly followed by other sounds of metal objects falling and crashing about. Silence. She stopped to catch her breath and to listen for more sounds. It surprised her no one in the house seemed to have awakened. She made her way cautiously around to the back of the house. The backyard was bathed in the luminescence of the full moon. The door to the shed was slightly ajar. She was about to cross to it. She was sure this is where Clint must be hiding. Something, however held her back. It wasn’t until afterwards she realized it must have been some sort of survival instinct that stayed her.
She backed slightly into the shadows of the house just as the door to the shed burst open, broken and crushed wood spilling to the ground. What emerged from the shed froze her heart. It was easily eight feet tall. The legs were all sinewy and muscular, and its body was completely covered in hair. The thing was wearing clothes, but not much. They seemed to have been ripped and torn as if the clothes were two sizes too small. The creature’s head … that was the word for it, creature… it was canine-like with a long snout and short upright ears. She could see the teeth in its muzzle shine under the moonlight. What she was seeing, looked like a large dog walking on its hind legs. The legs she noticed now, were more humanoid looking than canine.
It was the most frightening thing she had ever seen. She moved deeper into the shadows as the thing’s head swiveled around, as if taking in its surroundings for the first time. The dog-man-thing, or whatever it was, sniffed the air, trying to catch a scent. The creature paused for a moment before giving an extra sniff in Sarah’s direction. She saw it lower its head and look right at her hiding spot. It must be able to see me, she thought.
It went into motion. It was incredibly quick for its size and bulk. It lunged in her direction. She let out a short yelp, turned, and ran. She knew she was dead. There was no way she could outrun this thing. She was exhausted from chasing Clint. And this thing was too fast. She rushed into the street. She heard and felt the thing right behind her. Then, like some horror movie, she tripped. The thing was on her. It grabbed her around her waist. It swung her into the air. She screamed. The creature brought her around to look at her. She saw its amber eyes examining her. Its jaws parted slightly. She looked away. That is when she noticed something that caught her completely by surprise. Even though the shirt this thing wore was ripped in many places, she recognized it. A Chicago Blackhawk shirt.
“Clint?” she asked and looked back into the creature’s eyes. She saw something in those eyes confirming recognition. The creature, or as she now knew, Clint, slowly set her down on the street. Just as he set her down, the door to the house with the destroyed shed burst open and an old man wielding a handgun came out.
“What the hell is that?” the old man yelled.
The creature, Clint, turned toward the old man and bore its teeth in a vicious snarl. The old man let out a yelp, raised the gun, and fired into Clint, striking him in the chest. Clint rocked back, but remained standing and retaliated with a terrifying roar. The old man shot again, but his hands were shaking so much, it missed. Other houses came to life with lights and shouts. The creature who was Clint looked back and forth before turning once as if to leave. Sorrowful eyes looked at Sarah once more and then the creature loped away. She watched the creature reach a tall chain-link fence and leap over it in a bound. It disappeared from view.
Sarah fell to the pavement. She waited for a moment for her heart to get back into her ribcage. She felt she was about to faint. She looked up and saw the old man standing over her, the gun at his side. He stared towards the way Clint had run. The sound of sirens howled in the distance. Someone had called the police. She didn’t want to talk to the police. It would get too complicated. She managed to get up with the old man’s help.
“What in God’s name was that thing?” the old man asked.
“I have no idea.” She lied. She turned from the old man and started walking down the street back the way she had come.
“Hey! Where you going? The police are coming. You got to talk to the police about being attacked.” He continued to shout as she made her way down the street.
She turned a corner and ran. Her mind raced as fast as her feet. She needed to get back to her car. She needed to change her clothes as well. She smelled like urine.
Clint awoke as if from a dream. Bits and pieces of the night before intruded on his subconsciousness. He was sprawled on his recliner. To his relief, he only had a small amount of blood on his chest. His shirt was in tatters and his sweats were ripped in several places. He examined the blood stains on his shirt and realized it was most likely his blood, seeing how it surrounded a hole in his shirt. He vaguely remembered being shot. At least, he thought he had been shot. He remembered the pain he felt all over his body. He remembered a shed. The rest was a blank. Wait! He remembered more. He heard his name being spoken and looking down, yes, down at that doctor chick. Something held her in front of him, some huge-clawed hand grasped her small waist. He followed the view up the arm. Shocked, he realized it was his hand, his arm. He was the one holding Sarah, dangling her in midair. A door slammed. An old man stared at him. He tried to say something, but it was a low growl. The old man fired one shot. Clint felt a searing pain explode in his chest, though the pain receded quickly. He shouted again at the old man to stop shooting him, but there was only a roar that startled him as much as it the old man. The gun fired again. Clint decided to get the hell out of there before the old man’s aim got better. He started to run, but turned to look at Sarah. She stared at him, her eyes a mix of fear and… was that wonder? He made his way over to a fence, a leap of at least eight feet.
What happened to him? What had he become? Is this what happened to him when he blacked out? There could be no other explanation. But why could he remember last night and he couldn’t remember the nights before? He wondered.
Sarah. She said his name. Yes. That must have been what had brought him out of wherever his mind went when this change happened to him. Whatever those changes were. He must be sick. He must have some sort of disease. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his eyelids. He was exhausted. He always was after these events. He pulled at the shreds — what was worse, he ruined his favorite Blackhawks shirt.
A soft knock at the door caught his attention. Clint groaned. He knew who it was. He gave some serious thought to growling at the door, but discarded the idea. If she had the guts to come to his door after what happened last night, it was obvious, she wouldn’t leave now. He stood as the soft knock came again. He opened the door and Sarah stood there, staring at him. Her eyes took in his torn shirt and ripped sweats. Her hand slowly moved up and her finger slid into the hole where the bullet had passed, and touched his chest. Her eyes held disbelief as her fingers obviously found no marking of the bullet breaking his skin.
“Are you going to stand out there feeling me up, or are you going to come in?”
Sarah quickly removed her hand from his chest and blushed.
“You’re actually going to invite me in?”
“It never mattered to you before if I did or not.”
She blushed a deeper shade of red, which actually made her look prettier. He stepped aside to let her pass. She crossed the room and stood at the other side of the room with her arms crossed under her breasts.
“I apologize for the way I acted yesterday. It’s…” Sarah stumbled for words. “What you have in your blood stream is incredible.” She smiled. “Not nearly as incredible as what happened last night. I had no idea it would manifest itself as this, or that it would already have a name.”
Clint scrunched his eyebrows together.
“What are you talking about? Already have a name? I don’t even understand what happened last night and you’re tellin
g me you do?”
Sarah crossed the room to him. He saw she had something tucked under her arm.
“Here, you made the news.” She handed him the Chicago times. It was open to page two of the news where there was a rough drawing of some sort of bear-like creature with the headline, “Bear Roams Streets of Chicago?” He quickly scanned the article. Apparently, some resident of Chicago claimed to have seen a bear in the street attacking some woman. He had fired at it several times and was sure he hit it at least once before the beast fled. Police would normally have chalked this up too much alcohol, but the man had not been drinking as far as the police could determine, and several neighbors collaborated his story by saying they had heard a woman scream followed by a loud roaring sound. The woman apparently fled the scene and could not be found for questioning. The police were asking if the woman would please contact them to give a report so they could have a better idea of what was prowling the streets of Chicago.
Clint set the paper down.
“I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t even know what was happening. Normally I just black out and I have no recollection of what happens.”
Sarah looked into his eyes. For some reason he found it hard to look back into hers. After all, he had attacked her, and if she hadn’t said his name he was sure he would have killed her.
“Really? You didn’t even know this happened to you?
He shook his head.
“Wow. Why do you know now?”
He moved past her so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable standing there under her scrutiny.
“I’m pretty sure it was when you said my name. Somehow it brought my mind out of that animal state it was in.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m not glad I knew who you were. I am pretty sure you were about to eat me.”
Clint glanced back at her and smiled slightly.
“I believe you are right.” Something she had said earlier jumped back into his thoughts.
“Wait a minute. You said what I have already has a name. What did you mean?”
She looked at him, trying to figure out where to start. She moved to the recliner and sat.
“You might want to bring a chair.” She motioned for him to move. Clint stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a chair, brought it into the room, and set it in front of Sarah.
She waited for him to be comfortable and his attention on her.
“Hmm… where to begin, okay, well, it took me a bit to figure out what happened last night. After all, it’s not every day someone turns into a large standing dog, or whatever. But that didn’t seem right. You didn’t quite look like a dog. After some brain wracking and some internet searching, I realized you didn’t turn into a dog-like creature, but into a wolf-like creature.” She paused. “Even though everyone else says it was a bear. I saw you up close.” She smiled. “Extremely close.”
She looked at him as if that should sum it all up. He shook his head.
“Okay, so what does that mean?”
Sarah sighed as if it was obvious.
“There is only one type of humans capable of turning into wolves,” she said, staring at Clint. “Werewolves.”
Clint laughed, and then looked at Sarah. She was serious. How could she think he was a werewolf? But what other explanation was there? It wasn’t as if it was normal for someone to change into a walking wolf-like creature. So why did it seem absurd he had turned into a werewolf? He looked back at Sarah. She sat there patiently as if she had also reasoned through the same thing.
“Okay. Assuming for a moment that what you are saying is true. Why do you think that is what it is?”
“Well, apart from you turning into a large wolf-like creature that walks around on two feet...” She gave him that look again, like he was being stupid. “It was a full moon last night. Did you notice?”
Come to think about it, he hadn’t. He thought back to his other nights of blackouts. He couldn’t be positive, but he thought some of those times it had been a full moon. He knew it happened almost every month or so. She could be on to something, he thought.
“What you have, as far as I can tell, is Lycanthropy.”
“What the hell is Lycanthropy?”
“It is the ability to turn oneself into a wolf. Though technically, I think it is the ability to turn into an animal, but is more commonly associated with a wolf.
“Most people consider it to be just a myth,” she continued, “but since almost every culture has at least some references to Lycanthropes in their history, it is probably safe to say, at least at one point, it was something that existed. However, I couldn’t find anything in recent history, at least nothing that didn’t seem National Enquirer worthy.”
“Well, whatever it is, I don’t want it. I almost killed you. I have been lucky I haven’t killed anyone so far.
“Yeah, I went through the newspapers at the times of full moons for about a year; nothing, not even so much as a mentioned mysterious death involving a large creature mauling anyone. So, I had to ask myself… How have you done it?”
Clint leaned back against the wall. He wondered this, too. To his recollection, this had been going on for several months, and in all that time he had only killed an occasional pet, never a human. Had he been just lucky? He suddenly remembered something.
“I get this feeling whenever this is about to happen. I feel desperate to remove myself from any social situation. Like last night, when I tried to get you to leave, and finally, I just left when you wouldn’t.” He gave her a look telling her what he thought about that. She just shrugged back.
“It’s like something tells me it is a bad idea to be around people right now. But, I had no idea why it happens or how.”
Sarah tapped her finger against her lip, pondering the situation.
“Perhaps your self-conscious knows you are going to be dangerous and since you are not the type of person who would knowingly hurt someone, your brain makes sure you don’t put yourself in a situation where you would.”
Clint mulled this over, and finally shrugged.
“Well, I have no idea. I’m just glad that however it happens, it does. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I killed another person. Not only killed them... but fed on them.” Clint finished and Sarah visibly shivered when he said this.
“Well, I guess the question now is — are you going to turn me in?” Clint asked.
Sarah smiled at him.
“Are you crazy? Why would I turn you in and let someone else get the credit for figuring out what you suffer from?” She eased back into the recliner and folded her arms in front of her.
“Uh-huh. I figured it out and now you are going to let me run tests on you.”
“Oh. Is that it?” Clint asked while standing up and looming over her. “This is how it is going to be? You’re going to blackmail me?”
Sarah’s smile slipped.
“No. No of course not.” She grasped the arms of the recliner in fear. “I just meant that now I can run tests on you and hopefully, we can find a cure for you. You won’t have to go to someone who you don’t know or trust and tell them this crazy story. You already have someone you can trust — me. Plus, after we figure out how to cure it, I can publish my findings.”
Clint cocked his head to the side and gave her the look showing he didn’t approve.
“Look, I will keep your name out of it. But, you must understand this is just too fantastic of a medical mystery to not publish. No one will know it is you.”
Clint considered. He really needed to figure out what was happening to him, and how to cure it. He couldn’t just go to another doctor and be like ‘Hey doc, I was wondering if you could help me. It seems I turn into a wolf when there is a full moon.’ At least Sarah knew what he had. She definitely knew the risks involved with it.
“Can I? Can I trust you? Can I trust you won’t ever turn me in, no matter what happens? You won’t run tests on me I don’t want?”
“Of course, you can trust me.” She tried to give him
her most disarming smile, which he frowned at. Apparently, not as disarming as she thought.
“Look I have to go home and get some sleep, because I’ve been up all night, and I have to be ready for work tonight. I would like to come by tomorrow afternoon and start some tests?” Sarah stood up and made her way to the door.
“You can make me dinner as well then.”
“Oh, I can, can I?”
She smiled at him again, turned and opened the door, and without looking back, left.
Clint stared at the empty doorway for a moment. He shook his head and closed the door.
Chapter 2
Syndor picked himself off the ground as the shaking stopped. He looked around and saw all the stones of the Calendar had fallen. A smile crept across his face as he climbed back down the stairs under the Table. The room billowed with dust from the shaking that had just occurred. Syndor entered the chamber as the woman who was lying on the bed gasped her first breath in almost two thousand years.
Kestrel’s eyes opened. She sat, allowing her eyes to adjust, taking in the room that was at once familiar, yet strangely different looking. She knew this was her dwelling under the Table, yet there were things here she did not understand. Facing the wall where her spell was written were strange square boxes that shined light as bright as the sun at midday. Several more of these boxes pointed in other places as well. One was obviously pointed at her bed, though she could not bear to look at it for very long else her eyes watered. One other thing caught her attention. From the back of these boxes were some yellow colored ropes running off in the direction of the stairwell. Where they went from there was difficult to tell because of the intensity of the box pointed at her. She shaded her eyes protectively. She coughed as dust around the room caught within her throat. Muttering a spell, she attempted to douse the lights so she might again be able to see clearly towards the doorway. She sensed someone was standing there, watching her. Kestrel was surprised when her spell was unsuccessful in dousing the lights.
THE AWAKENING [Part 1] Page 7
