Beneath a Winter Moon (60 page)

The shot rang out loud in the cavern as Alastair’s head exploded. The shot hit him in the right temple, blowing out the entire right side of his face and skull. Brain matter and bits of teeth and skin splattered against the rock wall. Jack rolled away, whimpering, and slid down the incline on which he was laying. He was half covered in Alastair’s blood. “That’ll take more than an hour,” Thomas said, mockingly. He called down to Jack in the most soothing voice that he could manage, saying that it would be okay—that everything would be fine, now.

He lowered himself into the pit.

Jack was going to be okay…Thomas was certain. There was a problem with his right hip, but it was not broken. The Husky had suffered a strong blow to the head and Thomas had been happy to see the swelling bump—believing the lump was good sign that there was less damage on the inside. Once Thomas had finished his grueling work in the pit, he placed a snow-filled sealable bag on the dog’s head wound and wrapped it in a flexible bandage. He laughed at his Siberian Husky when he reviewed the handy-work.

“Not my best work, boy,” Thomas said as he stroked Jack’s soft fur. Jack reminded him of a cartoon dog from an old Saturday morning television show. The dog always had his face wrapped up due to a constant toothache. He fought to keep the laughter from tuning into more tears. There had been enough of that. There had been enough of everything…an overkill of every emotion that Thomas had ever known, and it was becoming just as draining as the incidents that had led him here.

The work in the pit had been grisly and difficult. Even with the machete, the work had been difficult. When the time had come to swing the machete down on Alastair’s unmoving form, Thomas had felt nothing—an emptiness of emotion. Doing the same to Delmar was different. The decision to treat Delmar’s body the same way had come after a swath of conflicting emotions, but in the end, he knew it had to be. Delmar had been infected, and Thomas could take no chances that he would regenerate—even though it was impossible to imagine that his friend’s torn corpse could ever come back to life. Violating his friend’s body in that manner had been so repulsive to him that he’d been sick several times…and at first he had scrambled away from the body, unable to go back for several minutes. By the time he was finished he had become emotionally numb, feeling nothing in his heart but a hollow emptiness. He recalled now that the emptiness had actually been comforting.

Thomas changed his blood-soaked clothing but didn’t know what to do with them. He supposed that he would go ahead and act out his plans to go back for more kerosene…and he could simply burn the clothes along with the bodies. He took the sticky bundle of clothing and threw it into the pit…and quickly whirled around as he heard the echo of a footfall somewhere behind him.

A man dressed in a white camouflage jumpsuit stood behind him, his hands above his head. He tried to smile at Thomas, but the grisly scars all over the man’s face made the expression grotesque. Before Thomas could say a word, the man’s knees began to tremble and he fell forward, rolling onto his side. Thomas leapt for the 10-gauge when he saw the man had an MP-5 strapped to his back.

The man cursed aloud and held up a hand as he rolled over to one side, gesturing that he meant no harm…but Thomas was not taking any chances. He knew that this man had been attacked during the night—by Alastair. The consequences of the attack were set in stone.

“It was your weapons fire we heard in the night?” Thomas asked, keeping the double-barreled rifle aimed at the man. The man grunted and slowly sat up. He nodded.

“You were attacked by something?” Thomas said, slowly. “Something…not quite animal but not human?’

“A werewolf,” the man answered. “Are you one of Steven
Svenson’s
clients…one of the hunters?”

Thomas nodded. “Thomas Devereux…and you?”

“I’m captain Deluth, Royal Canadian Police, special investigative unit. Are you the only survivor?”

Thomas ignored him. “You’ve been infected.”

Deluth chuckled. “Indeed, Thomas. Indeed—which is why I need your help. Can you tell me where you think I can find the man…this Jeremiah? He is the werewolf, is he not?”

“Remove that MP-5 and your sidearm, one at a time, and slowly. Finger and thumb.”

Deluth smiled. “You know your weapons, Thomas. Were you a military man?”

“Seventh Special Forces, US Army,” Thomas replied blandly.

Deluth nodded, truly impressed with both the man standing before him, and the luck that the almighty himself had bestowed upon him in this final hour. He slowly removed the MP-5 with one hand, sliding the sling over his head. He laid it gently on the ground and slid it across the rocky cavern floor. He did the same with the handgun.

“I have to get to Jeremiah while he is still in human form. I think you know that, though—otherwise you would be staring at me as if I were mad.”

Jack whimpered and Deluth shifted his gaze to the Husky. “Well, that explains the smaller thermal image.”

Thomas frowned. “You saw us this morning from that helicopter?”

Deluth nodded. “We figured you were in trouble, and believed wherever you were, the werewolf would likely be. Instead, he reversed our own game—dropping his pursuit of you in order to come for us.” He sat up. “We didn’t see that coming.”

Thomas shook his head. “He came back.”

“I see,” Deluth said. “Our imagery detected another person…”

“Dead,” Thomas said. “Killed by Alastair…I mean, Jeremiah.”

“Where can I find him? He has to die.”

“He’s right behind me, about twenty feet down inside a pit. He’s had a bad morning. He’s…lost his head.”

Deluth frowned for a moment, though it was hardly detectable through the long, thick scars. “You are being truthful, Thomas? You have killed him”

Thomas nodded. “Yes—to both. He and the best friend I have ever had are in that pit—both are headless now, and both are due for a funeral pyre.”

Deluth let out a huge sigh of relief and let his head drop, his chin touching his chest. “Thank God—and thank you. I take it that the…creature did not infect you…but that he did—your friend?”

Thomas nodded, then sat down on the cavern floor next to Jack. “You can call it a werewolf, captain. I’ve gotten used to the idea.” He paused. “You have obviously been infected, captain. So tell me, what is next? Where are the others and where is your aircraft?”

Deluth looked down at the ground for a moment. “The others are dead. The helicopter is maybe half a click away, with a pilot standing by and waiting for instructions.”

Thomas shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain. I really am…but you won’t be leaving this cavern alive.”

Deluth sighed, and again silently thanked the heavens for this man. “I know that, Thomas, and I am fine with it.” He hesitated. “Well, that is a lie. Let’s say that the alternative is something I could not stand even for an instant.”

Thomas stared. “You knew what you were coming out here for…which means that
someone
has always known. The authorities have always known, haven’t they? And you are about to tell me that you are part of some Canadian task force who hunts the damned things, aren’t you?”

Deluth nodded. “You have it...although technically we are part of an international task force, with permission to enter and act in virtually every country in the world.”

Thomas started to say something, but Deluth held up a hand.

“Listen to me, Thomas. There is another one out there. Well, not literally out there,” he gestured to the cavern entrance. “Jeremiah infected another person. We had that person locked down and he was being transported away last night but the vehicle wrecked and the bastard is loose. You have to go to the helicopter and give this to Lieutenant Snow Eagle.” Thomas gazed at the folded paper Deluth held out in a bloody hand. “This has everything he needs to begin a search. Alan Tucker is the infected man’s name. He will most likely still be near the wreckage and he will be seeking shelter.” He grimaced. “It will be many hours before another team can reach the site, but you can be there in minutes. By now, Alan is back in human form, awake, and panicking. Every moment that Alan Tucker walks this earth, he is a danger unlike anything you have ever known…even more dangerous that Alastair.”

Thomas doubted that, but he listened. Deluth waited, and finally Thomas nodded for him to go on.

“He’s dangerous because he is new. Newly infected ones can have unbelievable strength after they have changed the first time, even in human form. Their instincts will take over and despite what they know they have done…despite how many they have killed, they will convince themselves that they must live.”

He bowed his head. “I have to die, Thomas. I am fighting like crazy to keep that in my head. The infection—or curse, depending on who you ask, is fighting against my convictions even now.

 They can come back from death once they have survived infection. You have to decapitate or burn them—which I gather you already somehow know—so even if Alan took his own life, he would come back. If you can find him and kill him, you must.”

Thomas removed the silver-bladed dagger from his cargo pocket. “Alastair had this one him. He said he tried to kill himself with it, but regenerated once it was removed.”

“He spoke to you about his life?” Deluth asked, incredulously. “None have ever done so, willingly, nor said much when being…forced.”

“He told me some things,” Thomas said. “I only gave him a few minutes, but it was enough for me to fill in some blanks.” Thomas frowned, pausing a moment to reflect on all that Deluth was telling him. “Are you
really
asking me to hunt this man for you? You don’t even know me.”

Deluth gestured toward the MP-5 and the handgun. “Those are equipped with silver bullets. They will stop Alan but they will not keep him down forever. He must be burned to ash or decapitated. There is another team like mine coming for Alan, but they are hours away at best. They will want Alan alive if possible, but I am ordering you to kill the man if you have the opportunity to do so.”

“Ordering me?” Thomas shook his head. “I don’t think so, Captain.”

“I’m deputizing you, Thomas. Officially and legally. Right here, right now.”

“And if I refuse? I’ve been through hell the past…” Thomas was confused. How many days had it been? “I haven’t slept for days. I’m not in good shape, myself. I can’t go chasing your man around. What if I’m just not up for it?”

Deluth shook his head. “You are not going to refuse. You are a man of honor and I know you are duty bound. You do not want others falling victim to Jeremiah. You don’t want others to become infected.” Deluth paused. “Have you thought about what happens if the infection spreads?”

“Yes, I have. Why do you think I said that you won’t be leaving this cavern in one piece?”

“There is no time to argue, Thomas. You are a special ops soldier. Trained better than most men...better than most soldiers. You were part of an elite fighting force and you know how to use unconventional tactics. You are a last gift to me.” He tried to smile again, but Thomas grimaced at the result. “I don’t believe in coincidences. You are here now and are the only hope of stopping Alan before he is gone. If he gets out of here…and out of
Canada
, we may never find him…unless it’s through a long trail of victims.” He stared at Thomas, who averted his eyes after a moment, unable to keep looking at the man’s twisted face. “Will you help me, Thomas? Will you help us?”