Blind Rage - Chapter 21

Thursday, July 30, 1997, 8:01 pm

Texas (Water...water!)

Dave opened his canteen and tilted his head back to drink from it. His body grew hot suddenly, and he almost coughed on a mouthful of water. Lowering the canteen, he looked into the clearing first.

The tarp was still in place over the hole, so it could not be Rosa.

Setting down the canteen, Dave grabbed the rifle and set the stock against his shoulder.

Nothing moved.

“Come on,” Dave whispered. “Whoever you are, just stick your head up.”

He heard a growl and spun on his heel, staying in a crouch. Less than a hundred feet away from him, the orc crouched in what looked like a runner’s stance.

The hulking body of mottled grey rippled with muscle, and every muscle was as hard as the glare on the monster’s face. Red eyes stared at Dave with unbridled rage, and fat lips peeled away from huge tusks in a snarl.

Dave started to bring the rifle around, but he hesitated when he saw the pendant hanging just under the orc’s broad chin.

Rosa wasn’t lying.

The bulging jaw unhinged in a roar, and the beast jumped.

Dave’s survival instinct waylaid his conscience, forcing him to act to save himself. He pulled the trigger, a grimace filling his face when his shot was wide by inches. The huge bullet tore a hole out of the tree behind the orc.

Dave’s hands shook as he slid the bolt lock back.

The orc landed and began his charge. Dave pulled a bullet free from the ammo belt around his waist.

The bullet slipped into the chamber, and Dave locked the bolt.

The orc was right on top of him. There was no way to take aim in time. Dave fell back, pulling the trigger.

The rifle kicked, slamming into Dave’s sternum at the same time that a huge hole opened in the orc’s gut.

Roaring, the orc lurched and fell over Dave. He’d not lost any of the forward momentum from his charge, and he was determined to wound Dave.

Dave made an effort to put the gun up and stop the falling body, but it was like trying to stop a train with his bare hands. He was stronger, yes, but not strong enough to hold the falling orc up.

Panicking, Dave tried to lean to the side to dodge the orc, but instead of cross-stepping, his feet collided with each other. His training lost out against the cold rush of fear and his body became clumsy.

The orc’s limp shoulder slammed his rifle, and the gun was driven down to Dave’s chest, squeezing the air from his lungs before he’d even hit the ground. They fell together, flying only a foot before the side of Dave’s head thumped into the fallen tree trunk.

Stars exploded in his vision, and then everything went black.

***

Everyone looked up at the sound of the gunshot, and then the three werekin spun their heads toward Jobe.

A moment later, another gunshot went off.

George leapt from the ground, slinging his arm out to point in the direction of the two reports. “It’s that way.”

Jobe got up, his face tensing with uncertainty. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” George said. “The first shot, I wasn’t so sure, but the second one, I’d stake my life on it.”

“All right, I’ll grab some food and water,” Jobe said. “Gavin, please tell me you still have the radio.”

Gavin dug in his cargo pocket and nodded as he tugged out the radio. “Got it right here.”

“Hold on to it,” Jobe said. “I think we’ll need it.”

***

Thursday, 9:27 pm

Jobe smelled blood in the air and pushed around George to look for the source. At first, he couldn’t figure out where to look, but George pointed, and Jobe realized that what he’d mistaken for a rock formation was the body of the orc.

He broke into a run, leaping over the fallen tree. Stepping around the orc gingerly, he found Dave.

Jobe winced when he recognized the dark stain of blood in the soil under Dave’s head. A splash of his blood painted the dead grey bark skin with a wide spray pattern, explaining everything in the span of a single glance.

Jobe muttered, “Well, you got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy now.”

Dave’s body was visible through the hole in the orc’s gut. His head and a shoulder stuck out from under the orc’s arm, and the silver barrel of the rifle was just barely visible.

Rachel dropped beside the orc, putting her hand up to the nose of the beast. “He’s breathing.”

“Dave isn’t,” Jobe said. “Maybe he’s dead or—”

“He’s breathing,” Rachel corrected him as she sat up. “It’s very faint, and very shallow.”

Gavin leapt over the orc and pulled up his wrist, sniffing at the fabric. “This was Rosa’s shirt.”

Jobe said, “Dave used Rosa as bait.” He scowled at a thought and looked at George. “It’s a plan close to what I wanted to use on you. Dave just chose not to ask for permission before he used her.”

George sniffed at the air and frowned. “I don’t smell her.”

“No, the scent trail meant for the orc is probably just outside of your range.”

George said, “That would work both ways, right? Rosa can’t smell us to know to call for help.”

“Maybe.” Jobe knelt down, looking at the splash of blood on the fallen tree, and then the backpack lodged under the trunk. He said, “Gavin, shouldn’t you be turning on the radio by now?”

“Huh?” Gavin cringed and nodded. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s all right. Just focus and get these guys a ride out of here.” Jobe raised his hand to rub his mouth. He moved his other hand up, pointing two fingers out like a gun.

“Okay, Dave, you’re hiding here, and you underestimated the orc.” He stood up and spun. “You were thinking of it as a dumb animal, so he got the drop on you and never went for your trap.”

He turned his head to look past the fallen tree, adding “So your bait was put in a hole to keep her scent hidden from us.” He planted his hand on the trunk to vault over it, walking quickly. “Son of a bitch, we walked right past her!”

His hands flew to the side of his mouth, and he gave the berserker control.

The berserker’s growling voice thundered as he shouted, “Rosa!”

Faintly, she cried, “Jobe!”

“Keep shouting, darlin’!” All caution was forgotten, and he started jogging. “Give me something to hone in on!”

Rosa shouted, “I’m here, Jobe!” She repeated it over and over, her tone getting shrill and hoarse.

Jobe kicked the edge of the tarp, and he dropped his head.

George slammed into him, and then he grabbed Jobe in an awkward embrace to keep him from toppling onto the tarp.

After they’d regained their balance and stepped away from each other, George leaned over to draw back the tarp.

When it came away as a segmented scrap, Jobe leaned over to help.

George was the first to peer into the hole, and he muttered, “Oh, dear god.” His hand clamped over his mouth before he could say anything else.

He was up and staggering back to the fallen tree seconds later. The animal growl in his throat announced his intentions.

Jobe looked down into the hole, but there wasn’t enough light for him to see anything.

The thought dawned on him that George wasn’t thinking clearly, and he said, “I need to get a rope and the rest of the pack to lower me down. Are you hurt?”

“I can’t move! Jobe, please, hurry!”

“I’ll be right back, darlin’. You just wait two shakes of your phantom tail.”

Jobe ran at top speed and caught up to George, who was no longer staggering. He strode with a heavy stomp, and his face was set in a stony glare. George had murder in his eyes, and Jobe wasn’t sure if he could stop the deputy.

Jobe said, “George—”

“I’ll rip him limb from fucking limb,” George said. His voice had taken on a beastly growl. “If you could see her, you would thank me.”

Jobe stepped in front of George and grabbed his upper arms. “Maybe I will, but we’re the cops, George.”

George kept trying to step forward, and Jobe shoved him back.

For every attempt that George made to step around Jobe, he was blocked.

Tensing his fists, he shouted, “Get out of my way!”

Jobe shook his head. “No. Listen to me, all right? I’ve killed people before, George. Have you?”

“I’ll kill him,” George said.

“Have you ever killed somebody?”

George shook his head. “No.”

Jobe move closer, resting his hands on George’s upper arms. “Then don’t start now. Believe me, once you have human blood on your hands, it never washes off. It doesn’t just stain your skin. Human blood stains your insides, George. It stains your soul.”

“He deserves it, Jobe. For what he did—”

“No, he deserves to be punished.” Jobe squeezed George’s arms when the deputy tried to move around him again. “Listen, okay? I can’t see into the hole. I need you and Rachel to help lower me down, and then you can pull us back up while Gavin watches over the orc and Dave.” He raised his right hand to squeeze George’s shoulder tight, but not painfully. “Let’s take care of Rosa, and let the judge worry about that piece of shit, okay?”

George clenched and unclenched his fists several times before he nodded.

It took only a minute more to figure out that there was no rope available.

Jobe shucked his boots to strip off his jeans. George and Rachel followed his lead, and they returned to the hole.

Jobe called, “Rosa?”

“Been flicking my tail a lot down here,” Rosa tried to joke, but the warbling in her voice made it obvious that she was crying.

Jobe felt sick with guilt and fear, but he swallowed both down along with the lump in his throat. “We couldn’t find a rope, so we had to improvise. I’m coming down now, and I’ve got food and water with me, okay?”

“Okay. Did you bring my glasses? I left them at the camp.”

“I’ve got them,” Rachel muttered.

She was much paler after looking into the hole, and her dismay only made Jobe worry more.

He grabbed the waist of a pair of jeans and dropped to his knees. “I’m coming down now.” He slipped himself in the hole and tried to feel for the bottom.

He looked up at George. “Can I drop safely?”

“No, move to the left,” George said.

Jobe moved by walking himself on his forearms.

Under him, dirt spilled into the hole.

Rosa said, “Thanks, but I have plenty down here already.”

“Now,” George said.

Jobe dropped, and he slipped down into complete shadow. When he hit the bottom, he curled his legs up, and his butt thumped Rosa’s back.

Jobe spun and laid his hand on her hip, his frown spreading when he found rope and bare skin.

He put away his annoyance at finding the rope at last, because the lack of clothing summoned a writhing knot of angry serpents hissing in his brain. “Rosa, where are your clothes?”

“Son of a bitch took them,” George said.

“No, he just took my shirt,” Rosa whimpered as Jobe picked her up and rested her against his chest. “I lost control of my temper and transformed. I’m not clear on what happened after I got out of the hole, but obviously, Dave knocked me out and tied me up.”

Jobe pulled the canteen strap over his head. “Let’s get you some water, okay?”

Rosa said, “Please, untie me first. I can’t stand this.”

“Okay. I’m going to take out a knife now. Don’t panic, okay?”

“Too late.”

Jobe cut the ropes, and once she was free, Rosa closed her arms around his chest and squeezed him hard. She started shaking, and her breath hitched in quiet sobs.

Unable to contain his relief, the berserker took over to kiss her forehead. She responded by raising her face, and his kisses pecked at her lips while he smoothed down her clumped, dirty hair.

The berserker whispered, “I’m so sorry, Rosa. This is all—”

“I forgive you,” Rosa said.

She made a soft laugh next, but it was a false sentiment. Her voice sounded huskier when she asked, “Can we go home, please?”

“Yes, darlin’, we’ll go home now.” Jobe took control, his voice smoother as it rose back to his normal pitch. “The orc found Dave and tried to rescue you first.”

Rosa gasped, her body stiffening. “Is he dead?”

“No, but he’s got a huge hole through his stomach and back. I don’t know if he can survive a wound that grievous.”

Jobe heard Gavin yell something, but he couldn’t make it out from the bottom of the hole. “What did he say?”

“He said the hole in the orc is closing,” Rachel said, relaying the message. “I think he heard—” Gavin shouted something else, and Rachel groaned. “He also says we have another problem.”

Jobe heaved a sigh. “When do we not have problems?” He patted Rosa’s shoulder. “All right, darlin’, let’s get you out of here and back into some clothes. You just grab onto my throat and pretend I’m Dave while George and Rachel lift me out of here.”

“No, that won’t work,” Rosa said. “I wouldn’t touch Dave with a stick.”

Jobe smiled faintly and asked, “Not even a pointy stick?”

Rosa’s laughter was relieved and more sincere. “Okay, if it was pointy, maybe once or twice.”

***

Thursday, 9:42 pm

Gavin explained the problem within a few seconds. The chopper needed coordinates to get to, or, failing that, they needed a signal flare to hone in on. There were flares packed with their camping equipment, but they were meant to be laid on the ground, not fired into the air.

Jobe glanced around and spotted Dave’s gear tucked under the fallen tree. He pulled out the hiking bag and started to dig through it. In a side pouch, he found flares, but again, not the right kind.

He looked up, and then over toward the clearing. “Hey, Gavin, hand me the radio.” He pressed the send button. “Who’s on the other end of this?”

“Captain Keith Carter,” a man’s voice boomed. “I’ve got a chopper fueled and ready for extraction, but I need to know what I’m looking for. Over.”

Jobe said, “All right, I’ve got six flares here. There’s a clearing not far from the wounded, and I’m going to burn three of these flares in a line. If they go out before you arrive, I’ll light the others. You’ll want to get up high to see them, and bring a spotter if you’ve got one. Over.”

“We’ll be airborne in five minutes. Over and out.”

Jobe picked up three of the flares and handed them to George. “Stay with them, and yell if you see lights or hear the chopper.”

Jobe hunched down beside the orc. “Rachel, Gavin, help me flip the big guy over. We need to check on Dave.”

***

Thursday, 8:51 pm

John trailed behind Lucy as they walked in silence. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have gone in for the plan of hiking at night. But once John parked the truck near the point where he’d dropped Dave off, Lucy unpacked her gear and started pulling on the hiking backpack.

The scowl she wore told him that arguing was not an option. John got his gear out and followed Lucy into the woods.

The whole time, her words echoed in his mind, I’ll make you suffer.

That thought sealed his mouth and stopped him from asking questions for the first leg of their hike.

After walking for an hour, Lucy changed directions, but didn’t explain herself. It was only after she changed directions again that John asked, “Are you tracking Dave, or just getting us lost?”

“I’m tracking him,” Lucy said. “He can brush over his footprints, but he can’t hide his scent from me. The werekin have a...I’m not sure how to explain this. The magic that curses them also carries an odor, something that lingers long after the scent of the animal is gone.”

John was silent for several minutes, awed by this revelation. Lucy could smell magic. John wasn’t even aware that magic had a scent. The question sounded stupid to him, so instead he asked, “What are you?”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder, and he cringed when he saw her eyes were mostly black.

She’d dilated her pupils to make seeing in the dim light easier, and the flashlight that John insisted on waving around was annoying her. She chose not to mention it.

“I don’t know, and no one in my family knows either.” Lucy swiveled her head back around and sniffed at the air. “Maybe we’re a mutant strain of human, but our physical traits are dominant through the bloodline for more generations than my folks remember. So I wouldn’t think we’re a new strain, or even a sign of evolution.”

John asked, “Do you eat people?”

“What?” Lucy stopped walking and laughed derisively. “No, I haven’t eaten anyone. I got excited and bit George one time while we were fooling around, but he’s the only person I’ve ever done that to.”

John fell into step beside her when she started walking again. She felt awkward with her confession, and under his stare, she started to fidget. “I didn’t mean to, but we...we were having an intense intimate moment, and it just popped into my mind.”

John shrugged and looked down. “Maybe it was a feeding instinct?”

“Oh sure, because I must be a vampire, right?” Lucy rolled her eyes. “I’m not a vampire, John. I wouldn’t be able to work a day shift job at the auto shop, and going on vacation to Galveston with you and Sharon would have been difficult.”

“But you bit George.”

“Yes, but he was—I mean, we were...” Sighing, Lucy waved her hand as if to dismiss the topic. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

John decided to change the subject rather than risk upsetting her. At the back of his mind, he recalled an old werewolf joke.

He thought, A werewolf and Little Red Riding Hood were walking through the woods. Red said, “It sure is scary being in these dark woods at night.” To which the werewolf replied, “You think you’re scared? I have to walk out of these woods alone!”

He didn’t dare repeat it to Lucy, but he was desperate to make small talk.

He asked, “So what do you eat?”

“Mostly beef,” Lucy said. “I can eat a lot of meat in a week, probably close to a half a cow on my own.”

“That’s incred—”

“Shhh” Lucy hissed, holding up her hand for silence. She leaned her head to one side, turning and looking up to scan the sky. “Look, it’s a helicopter.”

John found the slow moving set of blinking lights and nodded. He was about to ask why it was important when he realized the helicopter was descending.

A white spotlight flashed on under the canopy, the beam aiming straight down.

Lucy stopped walking and waited.

John asked, “Do you think it came for Jobe’s pack?”

Lucy glanced at him, her right eyebrow shooting up in a high arch. “How much do you know about the werekin?”

“Only that Jobe is collecting the victims of the werebear’s attacks, and that the curse changes people to make them stronger and younger.” He waved at the helicopter as its silhouette merged with the black horizon. “So, I guess they found Dave or the werebear and called for an extraction.”

“Yeah, probably,” Lucy said. “I don’t think there would be many hikers out here who could call for a helicopter extraction.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.” John smiled at Lucy. “See? Sometimes I can act like a cop.”

He waited for the helicopter to reappear, and time dragged on without a sign of it. “You and George are divorced, right?”

“Yes,” Lucy said.

“So why did you come running out here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Okay, fair enough.” John tucked his hands into his hip pockets. “It just seems to me that if you didn’t like him so much—”

“I couldn’t trust him because he was human.” Lucy pouted at John. “I shouldn’t have agreed to marry him in the first place, but he was always so sweet that I thought maybe I could live with him. But once we moved in together, I couldn’t let myself relax. Because he was a human, and I’m not.”

John frowned, “But he’s not human anymore?”

“Not completely, no.” Lucy looked away again, and the chopper rose up through the trees. “That doesn’t matter, because now George is too wary of getting bitten again.”

She followed its progress for a few seconds. “I ruined my marriage, and I accept that. But I still love him, and if I think he’s in danger, I’ll come running as fast as I can to help him.”

John smirked at a sarcastic thought. “Would you cover up a crime for him?”

Lucy made a soft snort. “Maybe, but I’m not a cop, am I? I’m just a cop’s wife.” She shook her head, her smile becoming proud. “George wouldn’t need me to cover up a crime for him. Maybe he’s close-minded about some people, but he’s a good man, and he has a good sense of right and wrong.”

Her smile faded, and John turned to look for the helicopter. He spotted the lights wobbling as the outline moved toward the ground again. The chopper bounced erratically for a few seconds more before it dropped from the sky.