by Traci Briery
"Uh-huh."
Nothing that Tamara said was boring, but Loraine needed all of her powers of concentration to keep understanding and remembering everything that she heard. Tonight's moon was one day away from full. This knowledge brought back memories against her will. Even now the room seemed much warmer than when she first entered it. Her hands fidgeted on their own, as if to check for any change or imperfection. Thankfully, they remained as smooth and hairless as they had ever been.
"—you know what I'm saying?" Tamara's voice broke in. Loraine had always appeared as though she were paying full attention, but until now Tamara had not stared at her as though electing an answer. Loraine stared back, then smiled nervously.
"Um…" she said, "I'm sorry; I didn't hear that last comment." Tamara cocked an eyebrow.
"I was just saying that we should start thinking about the routines now. Right?"
"Um… um, I've been thinking about a few things," Loraine said, wiping away some sweat. "Do you have a heater on in here?"
"I don't think so," Tamara said, looking over her shoulder at the man, who shrugged, then at Loraine. "Are you hot?"
"Kind of. No, not really. I'm okay. But—before we keep going, I have to be honest with you. I know that I said I wasn't really doing anything, and… I'm not really… but see, I had this trip planned before your try-outs, and… I'm still kind of packing, and…"
"A trip? Now? How long is it gonna be?" asked Tamara, concerned.
"Oh, just a few days," Loraine said hastily. "Seriously, just a few days. I'll be back before Friday. Before everyone gets here. It's just that—I can't really do much with you before then. That's all."
"Oh. I see," Tamara said. "How come you didn't say that before?"
"Well, I wasn't sure what you needed to talk about when you called. That, and… well, you are my boss now. And you're a star!"
Tamara smiled as though embarrassed.
"Ahh, Gawd, I didn't mean it that way," Loraine said. "We're suppose to be cool in L.A. about 'stars,' but_geez, you have two hit records and… now I'm your choreographer, for Godssake!"
"Hey, I feel lucky to have found you," Tamara said. "And… I know I can kinda overwhelm people, like today, I suppose—
"Oh, no…"
"Sometimes I'm a bitch, too," Tamara continued. "But I don't want to be the 'boss' of the group. In this case I can tell you what I don't want to do, but I'm still your student."
"Huh. I never thought of it that way. I guess I am your 'teacher.' "
"So where you going?"
"Hm? Oh, just… just out to the desert."
"Ohh, you mean Palm Springs? I've never been there. What's it like?"
"Not Palm Springs, Loraine said. "Uhhh, more inland. But… um… I guess I really should finish packing tonight. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that's okay."
"I know you wanted to get started right now, but—"
"Hey, I said it was okay. I was just being impatient."
"I'll work out some routines while I'm there."
"Is this a business or pleasure thing?"
"Um… business."
"Well…" Tamara said, tapping her foot, "don't stress out about this, then. It's only a few days. Just be sure you're back by Friday morning."
"No problem," Loraine said. "I just… have this thing that needs to be finished, and then I'll be back no later than Thursday night."
It was just past noon by the time a familiar, but disturbing feeling came over her. Loraine instinctively looked at her hands, but they were as hairless as always. It was that other feeling—the one she had felt during the tryouts, and on the way home. She was already at the back of the bus, so this feeling of somebody watching her from behind had to be simple nervousness. Regardless, she stood unsteadily and gripped the seat backs for support as she lumbered slowly up the bus's aisle. Also on board were two couples, one with a baby who expressed its discomfort often throughout the trip, a fat woman who was trying to sleep, a young man whose attention was buried in his newspaper, two silent black men, and a teenager who could very well have been a runaway.
She glanced at each passenger as she passed, hoping to sense something stronger as she came near them. Some threw back glances at her, but then immediately returned to their previous business. Finally she reached the driver. Nothing registered from him, either. She turned and walked back a little faster, and then stopped near the end. The only one beside Loraine now was the fat woman, with the young man and his newspaper just in the seat ahead of her. Loraine hesitated only for a moment, however, before disappearing into the cramped unisex toilet room. She sat down, her hands clasped together as though in prayer. The feeling of being watched had been with her as she had moved up and down the bus, but she had not been able to pinpoint it. Now it was gone, and somebody on the bus had caused it to do this.
Loraine did not allow herself to use a hotel in Barstow. She could not afford to be in a populated area tonight, so she rented a car, got directions to the desert, and sped away as soon as possible. She never explored the town itself much past the bus station. Her cargo consisted of as much camping gear as she could scrounge up, which in this case meant a sleeping bag, flashlight, matches, food, and drink. She also brought extra clothes—one outfit for each day.
If it was illegal to drive out into the middle of the desert and set up camping, Loraine did not know or care. Better to get a ticket than to wake up with bloodied corpses by her side. The sky was already turning red by the time she had found a suitable spot to park. Once stopped, she busied herself pulling out the food and flashlight. She scooted into the back seat, which was only slightly more comfortable than the front, and shuffled some of her bags around as though taking a count. Looking at the sleeping bag almost made her laugh; it seemed unlikely that she would be doing any sleeping tonight. Hope never killed anyone, however.
She brought magazines but was afraid that reading them now would wear out the flashlight. Instead she set to work eating as much of her hike-warm food as possible, in the hope that the wolf's hunger might also be sated this way. The sky was growing darker, and the desert heat disappeared as quickly as the sun did, but Loraine would never have noticed this. She was always warm on nights like this. Soon enough she would be sweating waterfalls from the heat. She also found herself increasingly dissatisfied with her food. She had canned fruit, water, diet drinks, corn chips, and a chicken sandwich. First it was everything but the meat that offended her; now it was the meat itself. It was not tender enough, not juicy enough, not… rare enough. But chicken needed to be well-done, she reminded herself. They had diseases otherwise.
By the time she finished the last of the sandwich, Loraine was pulling at her collar. Outside the desert had dropped its temperature considerably, but Loraine found herself sweating. Near panic now, she ripped through her bags hi search of more food. If she could just eat enough, perhaps she'd be so stuffed that the wolf would lie on the side of the car all night, picking at its fangs and burping.
She tore open another bag of chips, then groaned and leaned over in pain. It was her stomach this time, which was not surprising, except that the terrible heat accompanied the pain. Ignoring the pain, Loraine grabbed for more chips and shoved them into her mouth just as an explosion erupted from her belly. She had left the car windows shut, and they were now dripping with a multicolored goop of barely digested junk food. Loraine's first thought was the extra cost of cleaning this stinking mess, when the pain struck again. Her mother had always criticized her for eating too quickly. This felt like more than just a reminder of childhood scoldings, however. It was as if her own body were thwarting her plan—as though it were clearing the way for the wolf to feast on whatever it cared to.
Loraine growled at these thoughts, and at her new discomfort. She held her gut and slumped over onto her side, where another supply of vomit blasted from her gut, this time covering the back of the passenger seat.
She felt weaker this time, as though she had feasted on a sick ani
mal and had been poisoned for it. Yet life was so scarce here; there were scents of creatures on the wind, but where were they? The wind did not follow a straight path. It blew then seemed to circle back, and may have circled back yet again. How could a hunter follow a scent this way?
She was ready for a two-legger now, but the scent of none traveled on the wind. Except… a scent lingered from inside the shiny behemoth by her side. She peered inside carefully, and sniffed. The stench sent her into a coughing and sneezing fit. A two-legger had been there before, but something intolerable was in there now, and a trace of her own scent was also within. Sensing no further use to the behemoth, she began the night's hunt.
There was life here—a lot of it—but most of it was so small. Some scents definitely came from warmblooded food, while others were unfamiliar. This new land also brought unfamiliar sounds. Something once hissed at her as she raced by, or rather, sounded as though something were shaking a handful of gravel at her. She retraced her steps, but could not find the source of this "rattle."
The moon was at its apex, when a very familiar sound filled her ears. Far away, perhaps miles away, something else was howling. She was uncertain if it was wolf or another creature. With renewed speed and strength she raced off to its source. The wind seemed to be striking her from all sides. The howling began again, and it, too, seemed to come from all directions. The howl sounded closer, however. She howled back, and there was silence. The silence lasted longer than she liked it to. There was no way to tell if she was still going in the right direction; there was not even a scent to follow.
Suddenly the howl was nearly in her ears, and she yelped and leaped off to the side, allowing herself only a split-second to be off-balance. Silence followed once again, and still no scent blew in on the wind. She stood her ground and braced herself for an assault. She bore her fangs, brought out her claws, growled, snapped, and barked at the unseen enemy. Then she dared to take forward steps—slowly at first, but always cautiously. Eventually she reached the spot where she had last heard any noise, and shifted into her erect form. The balance of her two-legger form was so awkward compared to all fours, but for now, it seemed a familiar stance to her. She was used to it for some reason.
There was no sound or motion now save from the wind. Except… something warm brushed the nape of her neck. She tensed and almost whirled about to attack, when strange odors filled her nostrils. Her muscles relaxed, and she felt her balance shifting to that of four legs once again. Was something holding her up throughout this? She felt warm limbs caressing her own, but she never thought to touch them back and see if they were real, after all. She was on all fours again, and crouched down even more as a heaviness came upon her back. Her legs tensed, especially the hind ones, and she breathed in these wondrous scents that made the heaviness seem to float away. Now she seemed to float away, and yet her paws were firmly planted on the ground.
She shut her eyes and let her head arch back until her snout pointed skywards. Warm limbs continued to hold and caress her from behind, when a loud grunt sounded next to her ear. Her eyes shot open, and all senses snapped back into crisp focus. She jolted forward and felt something heavy slide from her back and fall to the earth with a soft thud. Snarling, she whirled about and squared off against the intruder. There was a brief silence before a snarl not her own joined the roaring of the wind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Erotic, but violent dreams faded quickly soon after Loraine opened her eyes. All that soon remained were impressions of a chase, a struggle, and a Pyhrric victory. The ground was hard and very cold. This was something that baffled Loraine. She could not fathom why a desert could be so cold at night when it was so blistering hot during the day. That was the least of her concerns for now. She rose slowly to her feet and struggled to hold together what little remained of her clothes. Perhaps it would be wise from then on to strip before the full moon rises completely. But what of when she awoke in the morning? She wondered if the wolf would keep on a backpack throughout the night.
While dusting herself off, Loraine found more blood, except that it hurt to brush it away. A little bit of spit and gentle wiping revealed that these were her wounds this time. There was one large scratch on her shoulder, two small ones on her side, and several on her face, but she would need a mirror to properly locate them. She then caught herself sniffing the air before she thought to look for any unwelcome visitors. A murky memory of fighting something remained from her "dream." What, in this desert, could attack her while the wolf was dominant? A pack of coyotes, perhaps, if any dared to approach her. She knew that coyotes were known to carry off people's pets, even in Los Angeles. But a full-grown wolf? She shook her head vigorously as if that might clear away any cobwebs, but it was of no use. She never remembered her dreams for long.
The sooner she escaped to civilization, the better. Far, far away she caught a glimpse of something that could have been her car. It wasn't easy walking barefoot in this rocky terrain. Gravel and spiky plants and bushes poked at her feet. The sudden thought of coming across some nasty creature—a scorpion or rattlesnake, perhaps—spurred her to walk faster, however.
The glimpse of something was her car. It appeared to be undamaged, except for the remains of half-digested food that had dried onto the back of the seat. Holding her nose, Loraine donned her clothing for the day and held her breath while climbing into the driver's seat. She then opened all of the windows but the soiled one.
Her first stop in town was at the car wash. It took one hour and a half of her spending money to clean out the vomit. After this was a trip to the market to load up on more supplies. A different approach to fighting the wolf was necessary tonight. Intense concentration and meditation did not seem effective enough, and binging on junk food only created a mess.
She made several attempts at collect calls to home, but answering machines cannot accept phone charges. After the last attempt she considered calling Joanie again, but did not have her phone book with her. This, and what could she say? That she was out in the middle of the desert in order to avoid killing people? Loraine would probably not be able to explain her situation once she finally reached Wisconsin, either.
With little else to do but wait once again for the night, Loraine wandered aimlessly through the town for about half of the day. For the other half, she discovered a small library—the only library for all she knew—and searched inside for a private spot. A brief search revealed nothing useful in the way of lycanthropy lore. She settled for a magazine that she never actually read. Too many thoughts were shooting about in her brain now. Unfortunately all she had at the moment were questions and no answers.
The more she considered her situation, the more of a paradox it became. She still did not believe in real monsters such as werewolves, yet she believed herself to be one. Of course she was one; what else could explain her actually becoming a wolf before her friend's very eyes? This was not Loraine's greatest concern, however. The most disturbing thing, she realized, was the ease in which she had come to believe in and almost accept this curse.
What was keeping her sane throughout all of this? She had never enjoyed horror films because they inevitably gave her nightmares. She was not having nightmares now, but her dreams were always very strange when the moon was full. If the wolf's actions were becoming Loraine's dreams, then the wolf had to be some subconscious part of her that had managed to—literally—manifest itself. What, then, of her actions? Did the wolf have dreams about drinking diet soft drinks and sitting in libraries?
Suddenly there were no more questions. The most important one had been answered. She was calm and rational about the curse because the wolf wanted her to be that way. She had been righting a battle that, until now, she had no idea that she had been losing. The real curse was not the physical change, but the mental. This led to a thought; Roxanne had once suggested counseling for her problem, but only because she didn't believe Loraine. Counseling did not sound as offensive this time. Her body was not the only t
hing being violated; it was her mind most of all.
Loraine chuckled out loud to herself, then silenced herself in embarrassment. No one had seemed to hear her, fortunately. She was laughing at the mental image of herself, lying on a sofa and discussing her flea and tick problems with a skeptical shrink. No, Loraine didn't need someone who would waste all of her time trying to convince her that no curse existed, except in her fantasies. Briefly she also considered finding a psychic or a parapsychic or a superpsychologist. She couldn't remember what they were called, so she settled on "ghost-buster" for the time being.
This "secret admirer" who had been haunting her was no outsider, after all. Loraine would have bet her soul that the wolf had been her "ghost" all along. It had been following her, watching her, trying to intrude on daylight hours. Loraine felt herself shiver in spite of the great heat outside. She was not cold, but afraid of what her answer could be to a new question: Did she want the wolf to stop? After all, what had caused her to get not only a new job, but a great new job—herself or the wolf?
The sky was turning red. It was time to see if this new knowledge would be of any use.
Two days now and no police had hauled her away for camping in the desert. Perhaps it wasn't illegal, after all. On the other hand, a night in jail might be the safest way to spend the second—and strongest—full moon. If the police didn't shoot her while she was trying to rip the bars from the cages, that is.
Loraine brought more water than food with her this time. She hadn't eaten or drunk very much that day, and was feeling dehydrated. She spread her sleeping bag across the back seat and attempted to sit in a lotus position. This proved to be impossible, so she settled for leaning back into the seat and stretching out her legs as far as possible. Then she cleared her throat and closed her eyes.
Okay, she thought, no meditation shit this time. I know you're in there. Hey! I said I know you're in there! Talk to me!
