Lunacy: Chapter 1

LUNACY

By James Cowgill



    On one of the warmest summer evenings in New England, Justin Moon awoke in a cold sweat. He had difficulty catching his breath. Terrified by the night he witnessed those things…

    His fear slowly diminished and his heart rate began to stabilize when he realized he was safe in his own bed. Breathing easier, he sat up to place his sweat-soaked head in front of the small fan next to him. It gave little relief from the still, humid air, and he wiped the moisture from his brow with the back of a shacking hand.

    Although the slight breeze felt cool against his damp skin and hair, slowly calming his anxiety, the images still haunted him. As quickly as the nightmare subsided, the scourge of memory soon smothered his reality with the horrors of the previous evening, of witnessing the fantastic. Were they real or did he imagine them…?

    After another sleepless night, pondering what to do with his life at the age of seventeen, he needed to make a decision about what career to pursue. His father, an unemotional man, consumed with the “old school” ways of working hard and saving money, and not with the ways of teaching about life in general, was on his ass about him finding a job since he had quit high school prematurely three months ago. 

    Being a resident of a small town, there were not many career choices that had much appeal. He wanted more out of life than working the lumberyard, the feed store, or the general store. Perhaps he could get his GED, maybe sign up for the police academy, or become a forest ranger; God knows there was plenty of forest in this town to make an expedient career of it. 

    He loved strolling at night with the full moon illuminating the secrets of night’s cover; allowing him to be able to clear his mind as the silence put him at ease without the distraction of cars or people. The coolness of the night gave a needed relief from the sweltering, sauna-like heat of the afternoon. 

    A short walk west on Page Street brought Justin to King Street, a narrow dead-end street on his right, with Old Man Tuttle's home at the end. Tuttle was a hermit who kept to himself and was the mystery of the town, really.

    The only time anyone saw the old man was when he came out for his monthly grocery binge at the general store, driving his restored, Midnight Blue, 1973 Monte Carlo, with the meanest 350 small block Justin ever heard. He could not figure out how the old man kept it so pristine at the ripe old age of eighty-five.

    From the top of the street, he could hear what sounded like music coming from the woods. It sounded like heavy-metal music, the kind he adored, with the melodic and heavy riffs of bands such as Metallica, Anthrax, Slayer, etc. Curious as to where it was coming from, he walked farther down the street. As he drew closer, he could now hear people singing along with the music; it sounded as if they were screaming, no, howling.

    Following the commotion, he entered the woods to his right. The voices and music got more and more pronounced as he got closer. In the middle of a large clearing, he could see two dark silhouettes drinking and dancing around a roaring fire. Unable to identify who they were and curiosity getting the better of him, he moved closer to gain a better view of what was transpiring. Using his best stealth, he did not want to disclose his presence by accidentally stepping on a branch or dry leaves.

    Oddly, the two figures began to strip off their clothing and convulse violently. Justin could not believe his eyes as their bodies began to twist and contort, as flesh and cartilage shifted; bones cracked like the sound of dried branches being broken in half, their knees bent backwards in ways a human form should never endure.

    With fur growing all over their bodies they produced ghastly howls that drowned out the music, sending shivers down his spine. Eyes glowing yellow, they continued to transform into something unquestionably evil.

      To his horror, as these inhuman events transpired, Justin noticed a displacement of air beyond the fire. Thinking at first it was just the heat of the fire displacing the night causing a warping effect; like the heat coming off the road on a hot summer day, the shimmer began to open into an apparition of a beautiful woman with long, curly blonde hair, with high cheekbones and full pouting lips.

      She appeared to hover in mid air, dressed in a long and flowing transparent white nightgown, which hugged her trim figure and mysteriously vanished into a black abyss behind her.

      With his mouth agape, he peered at both the ghostly woman and what appeared to be two very large wolves when an unearthly laugh bellowed out deep from within her. “Hello, my pets,” she greeted, with an eerie, echoing voice to the two humanoid-looking wolves.

      “I’m extremely exited you could make it out of your cages tonight to visit your new mistress, Selena.” She said with a sly grin. At that, one of the huge beasts snapped at the apparition with its powerful and deadly teeth, and then delivered a long deep growling retort. “Now, now, my dears, if you’re going to act that way you shall not receive the treat I have for you tonight. Observe.” She said, gently rubbing the two behind the ears.

      Slowly raising her arms into the air she began chanting in a tongue Justin could not comprehend, and a second shimmer came into being next to her. Like a piece of paper burning from the inside out, edges glowing, it slowly grew bigger until finally bursting into a fireball, leaving a naked woman shivering in fear with her hair in the fist of her captor.                                                                         

      Struggling vainly to free herself from the iron grip, the ghostly woman tossed the girl to the ground like a distasteful table scrap. Seeing the two overgrown wolves licking their chops with hungry eyes upon her as if she were dinner, the girl ran off screaming into the dark forest. Suddenly, one of those things began sniffing the air and turned in Justin’s direction with those evil, burning eyes, staring at him murderously. When the werewolf did so, the woman’s ghostly head came up with a look of surprise at the interruption. With a single command of “Seek,” one werewolf went after the girl in the forest, and the other bounded toward Justin. 

      Nearly tripping over rocks and fallen trees, branches tearing at his face and body, he desperately tore through the dense, dark forest surrounding him, as the werewolf continued its fast and deadly pursuit. Surely, he would not be living long if he allowed one of those things to reach him. Never looking back, he ran as fast as possibly to avoid the coming onslaught. 

      From thin air, a dense fog pressed in upon the ground around him, providing him with the necessary cover to mask his retreat home to escape this evil creature. Where this fog came from he neither knew or cared, as long as it delivered him in one piece. How would he ever explain any of this to anyone? People would think he was a head case ready for the sanitarium. The police would never believe him.     

      Reaching his doorway, he fumbled for the key. Opening the door, Justin could still hear the howling behind him, and thought he could see those eyes coming. He slammed the door and locked it, panting so hard he thought his chest would explode, when the hulking werewolf collided with the front door once, then twice, its sharp claws scratching ferociously at the hardwood. It sounded as if it was sniffing at him through the door, then silence.           

      After what seemed like hours sitting with his back pressed against the door trying to regain his composure, he finally got the courage to peer out the window. With a lengthy investigation, he could see nothing outside but that chilling fog that saved his life this night. Regaining consciousness the next afternoon, Justin wondered if he imagined the whole experience, but the memory of the horrible scratching and pounding on the door overtook his grogginess. Going directly to the door in question he immediately opened it. Inspection of the door revealed claw marks upon it. Horrible gashes etched in the hardwood halfway down to the bottom; his father was going to kill him. Good thing his father was away on business for a few weeks. With this discovery, and the events of last night, he knew he did not imagine this. He was going back to that spot by Old Man Tuttle’s place to investigate.

        Putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys, he headed out along Page Street convinced that there must be a reasonable explanation. Reaching King Street, he got up the nerve to walk down the street to the point where he entered the forest last night. Taking a deep breath, he trekked through the familiar terrain.

        Justin carefully searched in each direction to make sure no one was near or watching his approach. Satisfied he was alone; he knelt by the fire pit and held his hand above the still-warm ground. Realizing of what happened, panic set in. Questions soon flowed through his mind:  What were those creatures? Who or what was that ghostly woman floating in mid-air. What happened to that poor frightened, girl that the other monster went after; and most importantly was she still alive? With that last thought, Justin frantically began to search the area for clues of her whereabouts.                         

        The area around the fire pit revealed nothing but scattered beer cans and clothing, so Justin decided to head in the direction in which the girl had run. Expecting to find evidence of a chase or a body, he could find none at first. However, upon closer examination after a short hike of about twenty feet, he found claw marks scored on the bark of a tree with strands of hair stuck to it. Looking down at the ground around the tree, he found a small amount of blood droplets leading to a path toward Old Man Tuttle’s home. The path was just visible, narrow and rarely used, as there was grass still growing upon it. Deciding to follow it, he discerned a small blood trail, an insignificant amount upon a rock, branch, and a few droplets on the earth. It continued to puzzle him as to why he could not find more evidence of a murder that he knew took place here.

        Checking over his shoulders, he scouted for eyes upon him. No one was watching as far as he could tell. Suddenly, Justin eyed some movement. Immediately, he dropped to his knees behind the piled rock wall that was typical of dividing property lines in New England. It was Old Man Tuttle.

        With heart pounding, he got up enough courage to peek over the wall. The old man carried two sacks over his shoulders, toward his shed. He let the sacks drop to the ground, with a nasty squishing thud coming from them. They appeared very heavy when they hit. How does an eighty-five year old man have that kind of strength to carry not one, but two heavy sacks like that from his basement to the shed? Justin thought to himself.

        At that moment, Justin made up his mind to investigate further the exact connection between what he saw last night and the old man. Tuttle then walked around to the front of the shed and opened the door of it. Reaching in, he pulled out a shovel, walked back to the rear of the shed and began digging.

        He got two shovels full when the phone began to ring in his home. With disgust and a growl, he threw the instrument to the ground and walked toward the disruption, grumbling something Justin could not quite understand. As soon as Tuttle entered his home, Justin made his move. Crouching behind trees and rocks, while constantly keeping his eyes on Tuttle’s home, Justin slowly worked his way toward the shed.

        While approaching the two sacks, he slowly inhaled a breath to steady his hands and clumsily untied one sack and opened it quickly. The sudden overwhelming stench of decomposition sent him to his knees, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose with his forearm. He could not believe his eyes. Inside, the sack was full of ground meat and organs mixed with hair, bone, and blood.  He was going to be sick.

        Forcibly spun around by his shoulder, and grabbed by the throat, he was pinned against the shed in one fluid movement. The hand around his throat was like a vise. The outstretched arm attached to it raised him two feet into the air. It was old man Tuttle. A normal man his age could not accomplish this; not even a young man could. The old man then proceeded to inhale his scent. Justin could not believe the old man was holding him in the air by his throat and sniffing him like a dog. “What are you doing here boy?” said Old Man Tuttle. “You shouldn’t be here snooping around. You are not one of us. Who sent you?” he growled.

          “What are you talking about? I was just hiking through the woods,” Justin managed to gasp through his restricted windpipe. He was starting to panic. He needed to think fast before Tuttle strangled the life from him. Seeing spots before his eyes, it suddenly it occurred to Justin that no matter how strong a man may appear; a kick in the groin would drop the best of men quickly.

          Kicking as hard as he could, Justin delivered his foot to the old man’s groin. With a howl, the old man instantly dropped him. Old Man Tuttle lay before him groaning, holding his crotch, and rolling in pain.

          As air came rushing into his lungs once again, Justin regained his composer. Snatching the shovel that lay before him, he raised the weapon above his head, and with all his remaining strength, slammed the blunt instrument over the old man’s cranium.

          Barely phased, Tuttle’s head whipped up with a murderous glare and growled like a beast hell-bent on murder. Justin dropped the shovel and stood looking dumbfounded a few seconds before running for his life; once again.                              

          Justin sprinted fifty feet or so toward the rock wall like an elk chased by a lion. As he closed upon the wall he planned to hurdle over, something snagged his foot sending him tumbling head over heels, causing him to smash painfully on the other side, knocking the wind out of him.

          Rolling over onto his back, Justin gasped for air. Touching the scratches on his face, he winced in pain. Looking up, Justin noticed Old Man Tuttle squatting on top of the wall staring at him, seething with anger; looking like a tiger ready to pounce.

          Deciding to get some distance between himself and the old man, he began crawling on his back using his elbows, while simultaneously pondering how Tuttle had gained on him so quickly. He had a twenty-foot head start before he even noticed the old man chasing after him. How could he be so fast at his age? As Justin continued his retreat, he bumped into something solid.                    

          Looking up and allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight poking through the trees, he saw that it was not something, but someone. A man, a tall man with long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. He appeared to be Native American, standing above him dressed in a uniform consisting of olive drab pants, and a dark gray short-sleeve shirt.

            Justin could not make out the man’s nametag, but a knife and flashlight hung from his belt. According to the badges on his sleeve, the man was a forest ranger. This town has not seen a forest ranger in six months since the last one died. They found him at Rangers’ Cabin by the lake, which was not too far from his house. Something had mauled that poor ranger to pieces. They never did find the animal responsible for the savage attack.

            Strapped to the stranger’s back was a quiver full of arrows. In his outstretched left arm, he held a bow with an arrow drawn at the ready, aimed directly at Old Man Tuttle.

“Let the boy go!” said the stranger with a stern and commanding tone. Tuttle, still holding his position on the rock wall, stared at the stranger with newfound hatred in his eyes.

Justin heard a low growl come from deep within the old man. Justin slowly got up off the ground to stand next to the stranger. “I see we have a new ranger in town.” Tuttle replied with a grotesque snarl. “Pity what happened to the last one. You would not want to end up like that poor soul, now would you my friend? I suggest you go about your business and leave me to mine,” he said with a tilt to his head and malice in his voice.

            As Justin nervously glanced, wide eyed, back and forth from man to man, he could feel a powerful tension in the air between them. As though, the very Earth itself emitted an odd source of energy, raising the hairs on his arms. As both were unwilling to relinquish their positions of power, the situation gave it the unmistakable feel of good versus evil.

“Run boy! And don’t look back,” the Ranger said with a quick glance at him. Placing his eyes back upon his foe to make sure his aim was true toward the fiend’s heart. The Ranger knew that this was the only way to kill the old man.

            Cringing at the sight of the sun glinting off the silver tip of the arrow from his perch on the wall, the old man knew he could not win this stalemate. “You have made a dangerous enemy today ranger. I will not let this incident go lightly. You shall suffer dearly for this interruption,” he stated.

            Standing his ground the ranger replied, “I shall not be afraid of the likes of you, slave. It is my responsibility to ensure the safety of all town residents from harm of any kind. As long as I patrol these forests, you or your masters will not threaten that duty. I am not without powers of my own, and I will destroy your reign of evil in this town if you do not desist.”

              Tuttle could sense this stranger indeed had the powers he claimed. He could feel the mystical power emanating from his soul; this new Ranger could cause them considerable problems. Not to mention the silver-tipped arrow pointed at his heart. This stranger knew how to kill him quickly. He would have to have his Master look into this man’s past rather soon. Who was he? Where did he come from? More importantly, what does he know about him and the Pack and how did he gain the knowledge of killing them? “A challenge then ranger?” replied Tuttle. “I look forward to seeing you suffer. See you around ranger.” With that, Tuttle turned on his perch, leapt back onto his property, and resumed his digging of the sacks.

              As the ranger watched, he was especially intrigued to see the sheriff’s truck abruptly skid to a halt in Tuttle’s driveway. Starting a heated conversation with him, the sheriff seemed extremely annoyed with the old man. As he suspected when he met with the Sheriff two weeks ago, he could not trust the authorities of this town. Until he found out friend from foe, he would have to watch his back. Deciding it better to leave than be outnumbered, he retreated into the woods never turning his back on the two men.





              The forest whizzed by in a streak of brilliant green, brown and gray as Justin kept running, not caring which direction he was going or where he would emerge. He knew he would come out some place other than where he was previously, and that was fine by him.

              As the briers began to gradually thin, Justin knew he was getting closer to some kind of opening from the forest. Ahead about fifty yards he saw the general store, a welcome sight. He started down the jagged hill at the back of the store with the utmost caution, as the terrain was extremely treacherous.

              Making it to the bottom safely, Justin sat upon a rock and fought to regain his breath. He was exhausted. He must have run two miles at lest, nonstop.

              Using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his hair and brow, he began walking toward the storefront. As he rounded the corner and raised his head, there she was, Christina Bell, the woman of his dreams. She had the most gorgeous blue eyes he had ever seen and her body never quit, as she was tall with legs up to the sky. She always wore tight clothes that hugged every inch of her.

              Christina had the most exquisite ass. What he loved about her the most though, was her long strawberry-blond hair. She always looked and smelled great, and set his loins on fire.

Today she wore her usual ass-hugging jeans with a rock t-shirt cut high to show her belly piercing, an absolute goddess in his opinion. She always smiled whenever she seen or talked to him. Receiving a hug from her always made his day brighter, but her beauty always intimidated him. For that reason alone, he could never quite get the nerve to ask her for a date. Then there were her two brothers to contend with, and the fact that her father was the sheriff.

              Phil and Carl, both wild and mean, would never allow any men date their younger sister. Whenever she tried to date someone, they would threaten or beat the crap out of them. The two of them were practically inseparable, as they worked together at the lumberyard and played in a rock band together; he thought they were rather good, as he had observed them play at a keg party once, here in town.

              “Justin!” she shouted excitedly as she spotted him coming around the corner and ran towards him with a big smile and arms wide open, embracing him in a hug. It felt terrific to hold her in his arms and smell her sweetness again, never wanting to release her luscious form. He had not seen her since he dropped out of high school three months ago. “How have you been?” she said, her voice soft and angelic in his ear. She let go of him and stared wonderingly into his eyes. Right away, she noticed something was wrong. “What’s wrong, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” she asked.

              “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. The last two days have been very strange.” He replied looking away from her eyes toward the ground.

              “Try me.” She said softly to him, lifting his chin to look into his eyes full of compassion and worry.

              As Justin was about to confide in her, revealing the whole crazy story he endured over the past two days, the things he’s witnessed, the horrors he’d seen and the stranger that had just saved him from Old Man Tuttle, an obnoxious horn blew in the parking lot next to them, startling them both.

              It was Carl, Christina’s older brother, laughing like a hyena at the response he received from the two of them. “Come on girl!” he yelled at Christina, head hanging out the truck window. “Just a damn minute!” she shouted back at him. “Justin, I have to go. There is a keg party tomorrow night on the other side of town, you know the spot, and I would love it if you met me there at nine o clock. Then you can tell me all about it.”

              “You got it.” He said nodding his head at her. As she hugged him goodbye, with a snarl from her brother, she whispered in his ear to bring her something nice.

              Skipping excitedly toward her brother’s truck, she hopped in waving goodbye to Justin, as Carl peeled out into the street. “Something nice?” he whispered to himself. What could he afford that was nice enough to impress her?

              During his trek home, a sudden shout of his name disrupted his thoughts on Christina and a vehicle pulled over to the side of the road a few feet directly in front of him. He recognized Tom’s scrawny frame instantly as his friend emerged from a beat-up Mustang his father had just purchased for him. The car not in that bad a shape as it only needed a few dents and dings banged out and a new paint job.          

            “What’s up my man, were have you been lately?” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders and palms turned up. “What do you think?” he said, as Tom displayed the car with his hand like a model on a game show. “She’s a beauty, Tom. When did you get her?” He inquired after he gave the Mustang a full walk around of admiration and awe.

            “My father picked her up about three weeks ago after haggling with a guy in Plymouth for about a month. We had to do some minor work to the engine, but she purrs like a kitten now. Let me give you a ride home.”

            They excitedly piled into the Mustang, and with a quick look in the side view mirror, Tom hit the pedal, showing off what she could do. After catching up on what Justin had been missing at school, Justin sprang it on him. “Guess who I just bumped into?” With a questioning sideways glace, Tom indicated he wanted to know whom.

            “Christina Bell. She just invited me to a keg party tomorrow night.” Justin told him.

            “No way, you’ve been in love with her since junior high school. I always thought she had the hots for you. Good for you man, she is totally hot.” Tom replied.

            “She wants me to bring her something nice, any ideas?” he asked Tom, since he was always good with women.

            “Yeah, bring her some roses, she’ll like that.” He said with a wink.

              Feeling more confident about his future encounter with Christina, Justin enjoyed the rest of their joy ride around town in Tom’s new Mustang. With a tour of the Mustang’s engine and some further gossip, Justin said goodbye and went inside the house to cook dinner. Tomorrow was going to be a normal day, or so he hoped.