Beneath a Winter Moon (38 page)

It had been many years since he needed to drop off the face of the planet. Sure, he had changed identities when he felt it was time to move on, but only twice before had he needed to disappear in order to save himself. Parker’s failure to control his own beast had facilitated that need, and Jeremiah’s foolish,
yet delicious
attack on Thomas’s group had sealed the deal. He had to disappear and he had to do it now, before the storm broke and the damned Mountain Rescue teams came for him. He was prepared for this situation, of course; he had an overseas bank account established in a new name, and all of the necessary identification, passport, birth certificate, and driver’s license…laid waiting in a vault in Fort Saint James where he owned another cabin in yet another name. But first, he must reach Hope and retrieve a packet that contained an emergency set of identification and enough cash so that he could leave Hope without being recognized as Jeremiah Johnson. He chuckled inwardly at the name. Not everyone knew that the name had belonged to a famous mountain man who had been immortalized by books and television, but some did, and he enjoyed the second glances and the slight smile on the faces of those who recognized the name. Thomas and Delmar certainly knew of the mountain man, but they had kept quiet.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice startled Jeremiah so badly that he dropped the parka he had held in his hands. He turned to look, but he already knew whom he would see. He leaned forward, placed his hands on the sharp edge of the container, and sighed. He could not help but smile, though. These fools thought that they were catching a bad guy…bringing some mysterious bad man to justice by holding him for the law…maybe even catching a killer, but what they were doing was more than likely sentencing themselves to death. He chuckled then.
A most horrible and yet delicious death
.

“I wouldn’t be laughing, numb nuts,” Delmar said loudly over the howl of a strong wind as he and Thomas came closer. “Your
pet
is responsible for two murders, which makes
you
responsible. Now…stand up nice and slow, then hand Thomas the spark plug from the generator.”

Jeremiah pushed against the edge of the container, and shoved himself upright, bending at the knees and standing up slowly. He raised his hands slowly, but did not look at the two men. “I’m afraid I don’t have it.”

Delmar stepped forward and shoved the barrel of the rifle into Jeremiah’s back. “We will search you, so make it easy and just hand it over….
please
.”

Thomas, who had walked over to look inside the container, stared down at the plethora of items and gear slowly being covered by snowflakes. “That’s a hell of a cache…
why
would you have a cache, never mind one this big, out here behind your cabin?”

Jeremiah didn’t answer. He turned to face them, his hands up. “You should let me go,” he said.

Delmar laughed, but Thomas remained stone faced. “If you will hand over your weapons and the plug I will consider it,” Thomas said.

“
What
?” Thomas asked, incredulously. “We’re not letting him go anywhere. He’s going to tell us what his pet is…and
where
it is.”

“You do not look well, Mister Forsythe. Are you alright?” Jeremiah asked.

Thomas glanced over at his friend. The big man had his Russian style (Daniel had argued it was actually French) fur-lined hat on with the ear flaps pulled down. He had a neoprene scarf around his neck, so that only his face was exposed. Even then, Thomas could see it. Delmar’s face was completely red, and not from wind or snow. Sweat ran down his forehead and cheeks. He was sweating profusely.
The cancer. Damnit! Please, Hero…tell me that you’ve brought medicine with you
.

“Don’t look at me, Thomas. I’m fine. And we’re not letting this asshole go, either.”

Thomas turned back to Jeremiah and shrugged, acting
unphased
. “I’m inclined to agree with Delmar…but it would help if you handed me the plug and your pistol…nice and easy. Once that’s done, we’ll deal with your two rifles.”

Jeremiah thought about the situation. He could go for his pistol, probably get shot, but then he could not die from a gunshot wound, after all. It would hurt like hell, though, and what if the idiots dragged him back to the cabin, anyway…it would seem like a lot of trouble just to find that he was their captive anyway…and they, of course, would go ape shit when he woke up from being dead. He almost smiled at the thought. He prided himself in always finding humor in bad situations.
It’s a gift
.

He wondered what was wrong with Delmar, and hoped it was not as he suspected. Surely, he had not bitten the man last night. He tried to remember, but the beast’s actions were always sketchy, usually just a series of images that Jeremiah managed to form into a series of events. He could not recall whether or not he had bitten Delmar, but it would explain the man’s obvious condition. “Alright, Thomas. Well, I say that it’s all right, but then I have already told you that I don’t have the spark plug. I threw it as far as I could into the forest, and in this weather and with the snow on the ground, it would be like looking for the proverbial needle, wouldn’t it?”

Delmar cursed.

“I will give up my weapons, though, and you can take me back,” Jeremiah offered.
I’ll
leave it up to the weather
, he thought.
If darkness comes before we’re picked up, things will turn in my favor…at least for the night.

* * * * *

Smiling doctors and nurses had met Alan on the landing pad atop the Hospital roof, and there had been a warm reception for him once inside, but no one would listen to him when he tried to explain he had been attacked by a werewolf. He could not know how he looked and sounded…but perhaps he should have. Most people would not rant about werewolves, and the full moon and being cursed—unless, of course, they were playing it up at Halloween or having a good time after the latest
wolfman
flick.

The staff’s nods and insincere looks of concern, and especially their sideways glances only served to make Alan more insistent, louder, and eventually downright angry. He just could not make them understand that in a few hours he would be a foul beast intent on consuming the entire hospital staff. The doctors and nurses dropped their fake smiles and their patronizing nods of agreement when Alan struck a doctor square in the nose, smashing the appendage completely to one side, blood splattering all over the staff’s white or pastel-green coats. That was when hospital security got involved.

There were four guards, three being rather large men who carried ominous looks frozen on their faces…the fourth was a woman who had the
rather large
part down, but looked pretty scared when Alan spit at her. They wrestled Alan to the floor, but it took everything in them to do it. One of the guards would later comment to a news reporter that the man had “some sort of super-strength,” and that “if he hadn’t slipped on the contents of an overturned urinal, we’d have never taken him down.” But they had, and had managed to hold Alan still enough so that a doctor could jam a needle into the young man’s arm.

Alan awoke to find that he was strapped down to his bed…but he realized that he didn’t care. His vision changed back and forth from wildly blurry to a soft, blue haze. He was aware that he was talking, but had no idea what he was saying. No one else was in the room, but likely as not he wouldn’t have been able to tell one way or the other. He heard his voice, though, and the sounds definitely came from him, but they were garbled and had no inflection. Why was he talking anyway? What good would it do? His body relaxed as he gave up and drifted to sleep once more.

* * * * *

By the time they reached the cabin, Delmar could barely stand. As soon as they were back inside, the big man tore off his hat and jacket and collapsed on the floor beside Jenny. That left Thomas to deal with Jeremiah. Though he was worried for his friend, Thomas knew that the first order of business was to tie up Jeremiah.

“Sit on the bench. Over there,” Thomas said, using Jeremiah’s pistol to gesture toward the opposite side of the table. “Sit facing us, and please do not move once you are down.”

“May I not remove my coat, then?” Jeremiah asked, trying to sound meek.

“Yes, you may. Slowly. Throw your coat and hat on the floor in the foyer.” Thomas reiterated, “Slowly.”

Thomas took a moment to kneel down and pet Jack, then ordered the dog back to the rug by the fireplace. “I’m going to need you to stay put, boy.”

Jeremiah did as ordered, then sat down on the bench and put his hands on the table as he looked into his living room at Delmar. The man was on the floor and, though he had removed his jacket and his neoprene shirt, he was drenched with sweat.
Please let it be something else and not that he’s been bitten
, Jeremiah thought.
That is all that I need right now
.

Thomas kept the pistol pointed at Jeremiah as he opened drawers and cabinets, finally locating a plastic bag of zip ties. “Everyone has them,” he said aloud. Jeremiah made no move to resist as Thomas bound his hands and then tied them securely to the bench. He had left enough slack so that Jeremiah could move his hands around, but making it so that it was impossible for him to get up and walk away from the bench. Thomas then searched Jeremiah’s jacket for the spark plug or other weapons. Frustrated when the plug wasn’t there, he searched Jeremiah. The plug was not on him.
Why didn’t he just rip the wire off the damned thing?
Thomas thought.
I could have repaired that…but without the plug itself we’re screwed.

“Thomas,” Jenny called. “Delmar has a horrible fever and he’s unconscious, now. I can’t wake him up.” She was on the floor, kneeling next to Delmar, watching him breathe. “His breaths are shallow and fast.”

“Shit,” Thomas said. He went to the foyer and grabbed Jeremiah’s pistol belt, then strapped it around his waist. He could not constantly watch his prisoner, but he could get to the pistol quick enough if necessary. He knelt down next to Jenny and put a hand to Delmar’s forehead. “He really is burning, up.”

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.

Thomas shook his head. “He has cancer,” he whispered. “It’s untreatable, but Delmar thought he would be fine for this trip.”

“I can still hear you,” Jeremiah said, sourly.

Thomas sighed. “It must be that.”

Jenny nodded. “It’s not like this has been an ordinary trip. I’m sure he wouldn’t have come if he knew this would happen.” She paused. “Not Delmar.”

Thomas tapped Delmar hard on both cheeks, but hid friend did not respond. “Well, there’s no need in trying to get him up on the couch. He’ll be alright down here until help comes.” He looked up. “Jen, there are blankets and pillows in the bedroom. Will you get some for him?”

She nodded.

“Steer clear of our Landlord, over there,” Thomas said.

“You will have to tell me all about that,” Jenny replied.

“Later. I promise I’ll tell you what I know.”

Jeremiah was glad to hear that the man had cancer. That probably explained everything…but still, he thought he saw what looked like healed puncture wounds on the man’s neck just at the shoulder. He sighed, resigned to let things come as they would. The man wouldn’t transform…not tonight, anyway. He might feel the urge tonight, if he woke up at all, but so far as he knew, a fledgling werewolf’s first time came only with the full moon. Hopefully, Jeremiah’s alter ego would forever end that opportunity once the sun went down. He felt fairly sure that the storm would not allow any aircraft to enter this part of the mountains tonight…at least not before dark. By then, Jeremiah would be gone. So, until then, he would be a model prisoner, perhaps he could even make his captors enjoy his company.