Tales From the Lake, page 25
I backed up, hands pressed to my ears.
An explosion threw a ball of fire upwards, and bellowing smoke blocked out the moon. I reeled backwards. My foot slid in mud yet I remained upright. Clumps of meat pounded the garden around me. Amid the orange glare, wobbly limbs flailed and whipped fire in all directions. Grass and bushes and trees burned. Tall flames hurtled along the trench.
Still the scream filled my head.
The heat made my scalp and face itch. I backed off, careful not to slip again, reluctant to look away. The fire raged while the scream diminished, while that foul body sank into itself, thrashing fat limbs. The scream dwindled. The body slumped. Silence now, save for the hiss and pop of burning wood. A smouldering stink clouded the garden, drifting on a wind . . . a natural wind. I choked.
From somewhere in the distance, far away in a world I thought once sane, sirens approached.
At the heart of the blinding flames, eventually nothing moved. No foul limbs twitched. Nor were there any spiralling winds. The fire continued to roar, framed by thick black smoke that burned my throat. I coughed and wondered where the pet rabbit was.
I coughed again, this time into my hand. My palm came away wet. I did not want to see the colour.
LIMINALITY
Del Howison
It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God—Hebrews 10:31
They were looking at me in panic as they stood pressed against the side of the split rail fence. The eyes are always the tell. The emotion was palpable, a stench of fear in the air, the sweat, the sexuality, the sensual desire for raw that comes with the terror.
She kept her daughter pressed against her side, ready to shove her behind herself for protection. It was instinct, like many of my own actions. She darted a look over to the man on the ground, I presumed her husband, and then back to me. His guts, some of which dripped from the long sides of my muzzle, were torn from his body. He had groaned only once after the initial shouting and was now unmoving on the ground. His body was covered in dirt and dust from where I’d been slinging him about the ground with my mouth as I ripped open the fleshy seal of his skin to get to the soft delicacies inside. The dirt yard looked as if a giant broom had smoothed the surface and one could truly imagine that were the case, if it weren’t for the bits and pieces of body parts that had fallen out during the struggle and now lay scattered.
The mother’s eyes were large as poker chips, and although she clutched her daughter to her with one arm she tried to cover the young one’s eyes with the other hand in an attempt to protect her from the sight of the carnage, the man torn asunder and me. I am something to see, I am sure. Spotty gray fur covers most of my body and parts of my mouth, caught in the nether regions between man and wolf, is misshapen and grotesque with dripping intestinal matter leaking onto my arm. That is correct, I said my arm. The appendage on my left is still human while a fully formed wolf leg protrudes from my right shoulder.
My face, even in the presence of her vivisected husband, must present an alarming visage—eyes, heavily veined and yellowed, nose shoved up and back onto the base of what has apparently elongated into a snout-like protrusion that was of no use except to hold my upper jaw and extra teeth in place.
She continued to move backward, slowly away from me, and was now backed flat against the split rail fence. She had quickly spun her daughter from her left side, around her, and then to her right side, putting her closer to the gap in the structure and a possible run for the house that stands about 25 yards behind her. She could dash for the wagon to her other side, but that is almost the same distance and offers no real protection upon arrival. I can tell that she understands she will only have one chance. She is a smart woman.
Even as I sit on my twisted haunches and make that horrible guttural noise in my throat that I have no control over, I want to reason with her. I want to tell her that there are things over which I have no control. My looks, my instincts are now there, deep inside of me and they control me more than a twelve-year-old boy is controlled when he discovers his sexual drive in the palm of his hand. My mind can reason but not control my actions, just as my vocal cords can sound without my being able to speak.
I have no plans to attack her or her daughter. Her husband should satiate my lust for food and then I will leave and she will be safe to carry on with the lives I have spared. He was a sinewy farmer, but held enough fat for flavor and I am sure that my hunger will be slaked after I lay down to digest. She looks sad but I have no particular emotions for her or her offspring.
I am only sad for me, for my condition, for the spot I have found myself in.
***
You would not recognize me had you known me prior. Young and full of all the elixirs of life, I had traveled from the East, out to this godforsaken dirt pile, to take on the position of schoolmaster for a town of silver miners and their families. The church and the schoolhouse was one structure, interchangeable, being built in such a rush and with the school not in session on the Sabbath. There were few single females, outside of saloon fodder, but I, with my quirks and personal proclivities, did not find the lack of the opposite gender a problem. I also assumed that as more of the ore was brought up from the earth the town would grow in a symbiotic relationship with the silver. In turn more miners would come in and the town would continue to grow and provide a larger and more . . . varied population.
When I stepped off the stage onto the dirt street for the first time I thought, What have I done? But I was here and there was work to be accomplished so I found my rented lodgings and proceeded to make a home and profession for myself. Life was fairly uneventful save an occasional drunken brawl in the street below my room or the moronic parent who felt their child was above learning and needed to be on the farm instead of sitting in a school desk. I never taught the children to swear but used that terminology in my own mind many times regarding the parents.
As I had predicted, the town grew parallel with the silver vein and that growth, though in spurts, was inevitable. I did not socialize much save the parental talks about their offspring, church, and the occasional foray to the local eatery which was neat, clean and served an adequate enough breakfast. I preferred my time alone.
Eventually the town gave birth to a crudely written but mildly interesting weekly newspaper that reported all the gossip along with town hall information and the sheriff’s arrest tally for the past week. This last was more for the titillation of the locals who all knew each other than for any journalistic purpose. The people were simple and stupid but gaining knowledge on a daily basis due to my direct and superior methods of teaching. I believed that my technique was totally novel and intended to write a book about it during the next summer break. However, prior to my being able to gather that time period for myself, I was approached one day by the local constable and summoned to attend a meeting of the heads of the town. Although wondering why they needed to speak with me (probably some problem beyond their limited comprehension), I gracefully accepted and that evening I headed over to the meeting hall.
***
The woman acts as if she is looking about for a weapon for protection from my attack. I have seen that crazed look in a person’s eyes before and quite frankly they can be dangerous when their minds tell them that they are on the brink of extinction. Actually any animal can be. You should be careful of the little ones, like rats and prairie dogs as they can get quite snippy. With her hip she pushes her daughter slowly sideways along the fence line while scuffing her feet in the direction of the opening. If she thinks she can fetch to the house faster than I can run her down, she is sorely mistaken. Another growl sounds out, emanating from somewhere deep in my chest, and her eyes shoot up to meet mine. She stops where the two of them stand and I can see her breathing from here and only imagine the sound of her own heartbeats in her ears. The stare down between us begins. She should not play games with me but remain still and let me finish my task at hand.
***
I attended this town meeting and was surprised to hear that some of the outlying ranches and homesteads had been devastated by the indigenous people of our fair territory. Families had been slaughtered with some members being killed only after the most deplorable sexual acts one could possibly imagine were perpetrated upon them, while other family members were forced to watch. Then their houses were ransacked and burnt to the ground. The crops were trampled and any livestock that existed was either taken back to where these savages lived, or set free. To hear it told made it all sound revolting and extremely unpleasant. It was no wonder the white man needed to eradicate these barbaric people. The soldiers at Fort Squander could not be spared to just hang about the town hoping to catch these vicious rabid criminals in the act. There was no help coming for us even though it had been requested. It made me wonder what it was possible for anybody to do.
The mayor and his council had an idea. They said they had requested my presence at this meeting because I was the most learned person in town. This was true. They wanted me to write up a treaty or something more akin to a local plea to get these heathens to stop hurting us. In return they promised them some trinkets and a cow or two. There was even a backward, simple girl who lived in some abandoned mine shafts out the west end of town, and ate off the charity of the locals whom they said they would toss into the bargain as a mate for one of the uglier, irreligious fellows. They wanted me to write this all up for them and then go out to where they knew the encampment to be located to present the proposal. In exchange for this extreme act of bravery I was to be given a house of my own and a promise from the town fathers to work quicker to construct my school building.
Not being a stupid man (as you have probably noted) I thought it over for a moment and then asked whom they would send accompanying me out there as I am not a gun-toting type of individual, though heroic and warrior-like as the next man. I would need a show of strength to let these Indians understand I meant business. They said that one of the deputies and one of the mine guards would escort me. I agreed, somebody said, “Done,” and we all shook hands on it as a pledge of our word. I was to write up the treaty this week, let the fathers look it over and approve the paper before heading out.
***
I hear a crack as the woman manages to push her opulent posterior hard enough against the fence to force loose one of the crossbars from its post mooring. I, being lost in my thoughts the way I do after a satisfying meal, haven’t noticed her subtle but constant movement backward, applying pressure against the weathered wood. The loud snap of the timber brought me around and now we stare into each other’s eyes, trying to precipitate the next move. There is a slight shifting on her part so I take a step closer and snap at her, best I could with only half of a wolf’s muzzle, and she stops perfectly still as if portraying Lot’s wife in the church play. I run my tongue out from under my top teeth and it lies on its side, flapping with my breathing and dripping saliva along with the fluids that come from the man on the ground. I don’t believe she’s even blinked.
***
Approvals had been made, the day had arrived, and I (in the lead, of course) and my two companions were off to sooth the angry beasts. This would be my opportunity to show them how diplomacy is more effective than might. I was sure they had never been exposed to an opportunity like this, that is to attend a bargaining meeting with someone of knowledge, and I was convinced it would be an eye-opening experience for them. The breeze was pleasant, the air was warm, and the day could not have been any more agreeable.
As we got closer to where they had made their smelly camp from animal skins and sticks, the deputy pointed out half naked men hiding in trees and atop of some of the cliff faces. I supposed they were watching us in fear of what we might do and must have been frightened enough not to interfere with our passage. As we rounded a final clump of trees the camp spread out awkwardly before us with no real geometric design or placement to it. The denizens stood on either side of the entry trail as we passed by and I felt somewhat like Christ must have felt as they placed palm leaves in the path for his donkey to walk upon.
I had expected to be met by a grey-haired chieftain who would be dressed in some sort of ceremonial garb, offering me a pipe of peace. But when he stepped from his bark and hide covered abode he was small and brown. I would say almost shriveled and I was a bit disappointed that I would have to waste my time with this shrunken rucksack of a man. We pulled up a few feet in front of him and I stared down at the gnome. His eyes were intense. I remember that, and he never took them off me to glance at the other two riders. Not once.
I put my right hand up to show that not only was I not carrying a weapon but that I was also pledging or swearing that what I was about to say was the truth. He spit once near the front hooves of my mount, causing it to snort and take a step back. He seemed unimpressed, obviously not aware of my keen insight and education. I turned to my right, figuring that maybe by introducing the deputy it might make the reason for our visit a bit more poignant. As I pointed, palm up and open handed toward the badge on his chest, a spear caught the deputy just below his head in the hollow of his neck and took him completely out of the saddle. I heard the wooden shaft of the lance snap on the ground. I could not see him as he’d fallen on the far side of his horse. But I did see the rabble swarm him with rocks and clubs and never heard a single sound from him.
I was stunned, frozen in place, but the miner jerked his horse’s head about and scrambled back in the direction from which we’d come. The sheer number of arrows sticking out of his back, within what seemed an instant, resembled nothing less than a porcupine. He tumbled to the ground in a raggedy heap, twitching like a rattler with its head pinned to the dirt. I sat as stone still as if I had just seen Medusa, for my entire body had gone numb and the mechanism that connected my brain to my muscles had ceased to exist. I could not move. I could not run. I could barely reason.
***
Another snap and the wooden rail breaks free and drops to the ground at her feet. Maybe she is going to reach for that as a distraction while she gives her daughter a shove toward the front door. It might work for an instant, but not long enough. If she would just stop moving and let me finish with the man, I truly intend to go away. Some people are just too foolhardy for their own good. I take another step toward her and she holds her ground as we try to stare inside each other’s brain.
***
Bound with my hands trussed behind my back, laying on the ground inside one of their teepees, the only light that came in was from around the flap, the fire, and the hole at the top where all the poles came together and the smoke streamed out. I could hear chanting and singing while drums beat a consistent rhythm. Soon the flap opened and a garishly dressed savage approached me, beads clacking around his neck, while he shook some beaded rattle thing in his hand at me. He was followed by a couple of younger braves who stood to the side while he danced about, waving and shouting and making me dizzy.
Suddenly he stopped and bent down to where I lay on the ground. He spoke some gibberish which one of his sidekicks translated.
He said, “I think I am a big man.”
“No,” I countered. “No, just a humble school teacher.”
I tried to keep my speech from sounding shaky.
He said, “I think I am a great hunter who can lie to them with cheap trinkets and items to change their ways.”
The medicine man had read the paper I’d authored and was not happy.
“Oh that,” I said, “was just nothing. The mayor and sheriff of the town forced me to write that”
He said he would make me a great hunter since that seemed to be what I desired, a devious hunter who slinks in shame during the moonlit nights. He would turn me into a wolf. But I would not be just a wolf. Since he was to work his shamanism upon me, I would be an enchanted wolf, an especially sinister beast, hated by all who came in contact with me. I would exhibit the mark of Cain. This guy was crazy as a hoot owl.
I knew I had to get out of there. They untied me and the two strong fellows held me down while mad Geronimo chanted and sang. They stripped my shirt from me and began to rub me with some balm. It stunk but he hadn’t even finished when I began to feel the tingle move past the top layer of skin and deep into the frame of my body. My limbs twitched and throbbed while the nerves in my face jumped about like they were being stuck with hot needles. The pain was incredible. I would have done anything within my power to escape. He pulled a knife out, for God knows what, but accidentally dropped it, and as one of the strong boys turned to pick it up for him I seized my chance.
I reached over with my suddenly free arm and grabbed a burning wood faggot from the fire. Knife boy turned back just as I swung the flaming weapon. It caught him on the side of the head and sent a shower of embers across the tent. My other side was suddenly free and people were screaming. The sage’s hair was on fire and he was rolling about on the ground. I pulled up the bottom of the teepee and ran faster than I’d ever run before. I felt different, awkward, and mean at the same time. I didn’t stop for quite a while. When I did it was dark and I collapsed from exhaustion.
When next I awoke it was still dark and I was burning up. I needed to drink and I thought I could smell water on the breeze. I sat up and started off in that direction when I fell in on myself. My legs weren’t working correctly and when I reached down to them I found they were misshapen and covered with a thick layer of hair. I fearfully brought my hand up, and in the moonlight it looked fine. My other arm moved discomfited from the shoulder and bent precariously wrong. The control of my muscles was spastic at best and I felt as if I had to learn to use my muscles and tendons differently just to get my arm to move. As I brought it into sight I saw that it too was lupine in shape and covered in fur. I let out a scream of those swear words I saved for the parents, but the sound was muddled, guttural gibberish. More groaning than human speech, I could hear the canine in me. I put my good hand up to my mouth and realized it had also transformed. My bottom jaw was the same and shaped as it always had been, but my upper lip hurt and was stretched out, bleeding across what can only be described as a mutated wolf’s muzzle.
