Scourge: Chapter Three

The ensuing noise hurt my good ear. I could have sworn that fireworks were going off in the hallway. In my head. In my body. There was no time to react when my collarbone snapped in half everything was happening so fast. I was beginning to understand how a small animal feels as it’s caught up in a dog’s teeth which proceeds to shake it to death; not a pleasant feeling. My whole body was being ripped apart form the shoulder. Shredded. More fireworks went off followed by an earsplitting scream. Being thrown into the wall and feeling the strange, numbing sensation of being hit in the head too hard was a relief. My vision was a blur; streaks of black and red broken with blasts of bright light. Blood was all over my arm the floor and the walls. Bang. Bang. Bang.

         I was getting my bearings somewhat. I had been in the hallway, which I was now staring down from the kitchen. There was only a blur of motion where Sandra and I had once been. Something truly enormous and black fell to the floor and Sandra immediately kicked it over. I saw her shoot it once more and red fountains erupted out of it. She was kneeling over me. I hadn’t even seen her walk over. What was happening? This had to be a nightmare. I was about to wake up. I tried to tell myself to wake up, but I couldn’t speak. This wasn’t real, it wasn’t happening. Things were still for just long enough that I began to calm. Even still I could not gain control or keep a firm grip on reality. It would slip away letting me fall back into believing that this was only a dream world then it would return like a bucket of cold water poured over my head every time Sandra touched me. She was brushing the hair out of my face, looking at my eyes, feeling my face and my hands, and then she pulled me away from the wall so I was lying on my back. It was then when I regained control. The white-hot pain coming from my mangled shoulder ripped through my whole body. My good hand shot out to stop Sandra from touching me.

         “Don’t!” I managed to blurt out. She backed off. I looked at her for a second then let my head and good arm fall back to the floor. It was all I could do to lay still and not move my broken collarbone. When I closed my eyes I could feel my pain amplify. Regretfully, I came to the conclusion that this wasn’t a dream. This would be something that I would have to deal with the rest of my life.

         “I need a hospital,” I whispered.

         The soft ripping sound of fabric caught my attention enough for me to open my eyes again. Sandra had torn my shirt open around the area where there was the most blood. I looked away fast enough not to see my injuries and send myself into more shock, but not fast enough to miss the look in her mismatched red and brown eyes. It was the look of a man who has just had a person die in his arms. The wounds couldn’t have been bad enough to cause her that much worry, but this hadn’t been an ordinary night by a long shot. They began to feel very warm; uncomfortably warm.

         “Fuck,” she whispered, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

         “What happened?” I asked.

         She didn’t say anything. Still not looking at my shoulder I watched her stand up slowly. Her movements reminded me of Atlas holding the world on his back. She turned away from me. I was hoping she would call an ambulance, or the police, or, looking at the certainly dead, very large animal in the hallway, animal control. Sandra began to pace back and forth, not once looking back at me. I think I knew what was coming when she pulled a fresh magazine out of her pocket, let the old one drop to the floor and slowly clip the new one into place.

         I almost asked her what she was doing, what was wrong, to explain herself, but she turned back around and stared at me. I stared down the deep barrel of the black pistol. Her face was hardened, straining not to give away any hint of emotions that may be lying hidden in her eyes. I couldn’t make myself move, or talk, or think. I was just waiting for something. Her hand began to shake and her upper lip twitched. She turned in a circle then faced me and re-aimed the gun. Though I didn’t have the slightest idea what was happening to me or why Sandra believed I should die I didn’t panic, or beg, or flinch. I don’t think I even changed my facial expression. I was still just waiting. My brain had turned itself off again. Her hand and entire arm began to quake even more violently than before and she grimaced. Her eyes showed pain.

         “Damnit!” she screamed and punched through the counter top. Taking several deep breaths she closed her eyes and put her forehead against the gun. Her lips moved silently.

         “Sandra,” I whispered.

         “Shut up!” she wheeled to face me again, both hands wrapped around the firearm. Again, she began shaking.

         “Just shut up!” she screamed.

         “Please,” I could barely form the word.

         It’s true that I barely knew Sandra at all and I realized that now. She began to do something that I didn’t think she was capable of doing. Her bloodshot eyes welled up with red liquid, which spilled over and ran down her pale cheeks. She was crying.

         It became a struggle to keep my eyes open. They felt so heavy and I felt so tired. The world around me blurred in and out of focus for several seconds before my ears began to ring. It felt like I was hearing all the noises around me from underwater. I was waiting for the gun to go off, but it never did. Everything was black.



###



         The nightmares started out short and mild, but with each passing dream they grew longer and more horrific. They depicted things I never could have thought of myself. Sickening, disturbing things that made me feel absolutely ill. I couldn’t remember ever having nightmares like these, or experiencing pain that even came close to what I was feeling. I found myself screaming when I wasn’t suffocating, choking on blood or drowning in a sea of black. The worst was the feeling of not being able to breathe and being on fire. Heat that felt like it would never end radiated from my body and burned my flesh to ash in every vision. I was being crushed, smothered and burned for an eternity.

         Small amounts of relief came between dreams where I found myself slipping into consciousness for valuable seconds at a time. I heard the sound of a screaming engine once or twice accompanied with a very slight breeze. Unfortunately it wasn’t nearly enough to even dull the terrible burning sensation I was feeling. There were voices after that, and flashes of color, lights, off whites with flashes of red and gold. The voices were Sandra’s and that of a man who sounded angry. Sandra’s voice didn’t slip in between my nightmares nearly enough.

         Soon the brief moments of consciousness that I treasured through my time in this hell became just as bad as the nightmares themselves. I could hear people shouting orders in stressed voices. I could only see bright white. It was painful. The last nightmare and the worst I experienced woke me violently. I dreamt that my skin resembled that of a charred log, black with veins of glowing orange. I could see yellow venom winding it’s way through the burned chunks of my flesh. The pressure grew to be too much and the yellow, reeking, venom exploded from my agonized body.

         I shot up into a sitting position only to realize that, once again, I couldn’t breathe. This was supposed to happen only in the nightmares. My vision was sharp, far better than I could ever remember it being before then, and it was red. When I coughed my throat was raw and I spat a long stream of liquid so dark red it was nearly black. It splattered a white sheet covering my legs. Hands forced me to lie back down. Still I couldn’t breathe. Fear that I was going to die took over now and I strained against them. I was going to drown in my own blood.

         “He’s suffocating, you idiots!” came Sandra’s voice again amongst several others. It sounded closer to a snarl than a voice.

         I was rolled onto my side where I continued to cough red streams, but couldn’t manage to inhale. My lungs just made nauseating gurgling sounds when I tried. How long could this go on? Just make it end. Please.

         “His lungs are almost drained,” a voice I didn’t know.

         “It’s about time,” a gruff, angry male voice I had heard several times before usually with Sandra’s, “That cut it close.”

         Why was everybody speaking so loudly? It hurt my ears and my head. Everything hurt. I finally managed to inhale for the first time in too long. The coughing continued on for a while after that, but at least now I was getting air. But there was something else I felt I needed, and needed desperately. I needed it just as much as the air. I closed my eyes.

         “All of you can leave,” the angry, male voice again, “Girl, you stay here. He’s all yours now. You brought him here so you take care of him. If he dies now it’s your fault.”

         A door slammed shut. Finally things were quieter. Not complete silence but it would do. Somebody turned off the lights that had been blinding me. My pain began to subside little by little. It was beginning to end. The soft sound of cloth dropping to the floor was all I could hear now followed by the silence my head longed for. The desperate need was all that I focused on now. It came across as a severe loneliness that had the power to kill. That may sound silly to anybody who has never felt it, but it’s the only way I can think to portray what I was feeling. Deadly loneliness.

         I felt a warm, soft body press against mine and lay very still. When I reached out to touch it I was surprised and relieved at the same time to feel that it was furry. I held onto that body like it was the only thing keeping me alive then drifted into a dreamless sleep.



###



         I awoke slowly. At first I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or just in a sort of half sleep. This feeling came in blips lasting only a minute or two. During these moments I could see warm light and hear my heart beat along with another slightly faster one. There were lots of sounds. They weren’t loud or annoying, just very small, interesting vibrations, squeaks, groans, clicks and hums. I was so tired and disoriented that all the information coming to me remained part of the background. The darkness faded in and out several times. Each time the light around me was different but there was always the sound of the same two hear beats and the plethora of small, unidentified noises.

         When I finally came out of the darkness for the last time there was an orange glow about the room, like sunset. I felt sick to my stomach. The room was very plain with machines and carts in the corners. The orange light was coming from a small window that hugged the ceiling. The closed curtains didn’t do much to block out the light. I began to feel a slight sting in my right arm.

         My suspicions that I was in a hospital were verified by the bed and the I.V. stuck into the inside of my elbow. Then I saw something that made me doubt this was a hospital after all. The biggest white dog I had ever seen was curled up on the bed with me breathing softly and sound asleep. Everything that had happened the previous night flooded back to me; the break in, Sandra, that thing that had attacked me, and the nightmares. My heart began to race, my body felt very light. For a moment I wondered if I was dead. The nausea I felt was fading quickly. I was confused as hell, but relaxed at the same time. Absentmindedly, I reached out to stroke the dog’s back.

         The instant I touched it a pair of large, piercing, red eyes gazed up at me. It’s ears pricked and it lifted its head looking me in the eye. A whine issued from its muzzle. Dogs normally had a way of making me feel nervous but this one made me feel very calm and even though it had a very wolfish face it was kind of cute.

         “How did you get in here?” I croaked and smiled, scratching behind its ears.

         It immediately jumped off the bed, tail wagging so furiously it’s entire body wiggled. It was so funny I couldn’t help but laugh. I also couldn’t help but notice the shape of it. The legs were very long and the feet were huge. When it barked it showed off massive sharp fangs. The shoulders seemed far narrower than most dogs I had seen and it was far taller. I doubted that it was even a dog. It ran to the door, pushed it open with its muzzle and left. I was alone.

         After a few minutes it came to me that I had been stroking the dog with my left hand. I clearly remembered that arm being torn to pieces and rendered useless. No way. There was no pain when I moved my fingers or wrist or when I moved my shoulder. When I looked at my hand it was plain to see that my fingernails were much longer than they had ever been and thicker too. Months had to have passed! What was going on?

         When I sat up my body felt extremely light, like there was less gravity in here. I didn’t feel groggy or light headed or nauseated or even tired anymore. There was no pain. Someone had put me in one of those awful hospital gowns. There was some discoloration on the skin that I could see but before I could take off the gown I heard footsteps hustling down the hall. They belonged to a person who was rather heavy and used a cane followed by and animal that ran on all fours. How did I know that? They came through the door, the big white dog and a man in a black robe. A priest. He was short and round with balding gray hair and glasses. For being so small there was something about his face that was very intimidating. He breathed loudly, moved quickly, despite the limp, and his high cheekbones put his eyes in a perpetual squint accented by furrowed brows. He looked so angry.

         “Ah, you’re awake,” his voice was that of the angry man who had been talking to Sandra in between my nightmares.

         “What happened to me?” I asked immediately.

         “How do you feel?” he ignored my question.

         “I’m fine.”

         “Oh good,” he mumbled and hobbled over to my side. When he reached out to grab my arm I pulled away. Well, I had meant to pull away. Phasing my upper body at the speed of light to a few inches away would have been a better description for what I did. I surprised myself.

         “Give my your arm, boy,” he growled.

         I reluctantly let him see my right arm and he pulled a broken I.V. needle out of my skin. I must have broken it when I sat up, but I hadn’t felt a thing.

         “I told them you wouldn’t need it, but in the future, Elijah, please refrain from breaking the equipment,” he threw the needle in a steel bin. He was calling me by name already. That’s not weird at all.

         “How long have I been out?” maybe he’d be more willing to answer questions with shorter answers.

         “Two days, almost three,” he grunted, “Don’t worry it’s quite normal.”

         “Normal?” I said quietly. I gave him what I hoped was a persuasive glare. Apparently, it worked because the angry man sighted and pulled up a chair. The white dog curled up on the floor and sighed as well.

         “Well at least you’re feeling some amount of remorse you coward. If you were any sort of wolf at all you’d be explaining this to him yourself!” he said to the dog. What? There was a wild animal running around freely, he had just told me that I had healed completely in two days and now he expected the wolf to explain everything to me? I was getting more confused and irritated every second.

         “Who are you?” I asked.

         “I apologize,” he sighed again, “I am Father Donovan. You must be very confused.”

         Yeah I guess you could say that.

         “I’m not a fan of beating around the bush Mr. Salvatore,” same here and I’m also not a fan of you knowing my full name, “So I’m just going to come out and say it. You’re not human anymore. Last night was our agent, Sandra’s, first failed hunt and unfortunately you were a victim.”

         “Whoa, whoa, back up,” did he just say what I thought he said? “What do you mean, not human?”

         Donovan looked totally serious, “I’m aware that something found its way into your house a few nights ago and tore you up pretty severely. Am I wrong?”

         “No, but-“

         “You may not believe me now, son, but what you were attacked by that night is what you might call a werewolf. Unfortunately you were bitten and the beast’s venom found its way into your blood stream. It’s a wonder you survived and perhaps a disaster,” Father Donovan cast a dark look at the dog.

         I cracked up and started laughing. Werewolves. This guy was a nut-job and I didn’t really care what had happened anymore. I was so out of there.

         “I hate to break it to you, Father, but there’s no such thing as werewolves. I’m grateful that you people saved my life and everything, I’ll give you my billing address, but I feel better and I’m leaving. Where are my clothes?”

         “You’re not leaving, boy,” he was glaring now, “You’re a werewolf whether you like it or not and you have two choices now. One: you choose to accept what you have become. After that you will be subject to training and quarantine until we are satisfied that you will be an efficient hunter and not a danger to society.”

         “And what’s choice number two?”

         “You can choose not to do as we ask and we will kill you,” his face showed no emotion at all.

         I don’t know how long I sat there staring at him with my mouth open. My life had been threatened way too may times recently and I wasn’t taking it very well. The only words I could force out were, “I’m dreaming.”

         The short, fat man stood up so quickly I didn’t have time to react and hit me full force across the face with his walking stick. It felt like somebody had slapped me only hard enough to make it sting and I had barely moved from the blow. Even for an angry old man he had to have more strength than that.

         “Mr. Salvatore!” he boomed, “Sooner than later you are going to have to learn to distinguish your dreams from reality. If you do not your life will be a nightmare you cannot wake yourself from, it will be short and when death wakes you, you will find yourself in Hell! Such silly behavior will not be tolerated here.”

         I put my hand on the side of my head where it stung. It was hot and sticky and my fingertips came back bloody.

         “There are clothes for you on that table,” Donovan pointed across the room, “there is a bathroom at the end of the hall. Go clean yourself up. You have three days to decide your fate, Mr. Salvatore. If you have not come to a decision by that time you will die.”

         I watched him with horror as he walked to the door.

         “I’m not a werewolf!” I shouted.

         He turned to face me, “May God have mercy on your soul, Elijah Salvatore,” and then he left.

         They were going to keep me trapped for three days and then they were going to kill me. Who was They anyway? Was I the victim of a cult of psychos who believed in werewolves? This could not be happening. The white wolf had stayed behind. It cocked its head to the side and whined at me. These crazies probably kept the poor creature trapped too due to an obsession with wolves.

         “Come here,” I held out my hand.

         The wolf came to me quickly and put the side of its head in my hand. I scratched behind its ears slowly then allowed myself to fall back and stare at the ceiling. A whine pierced the air as I put my hands over my face and took a deep breath. This couldn’t be happening, but it was.



###



         Eventually I made myself get up and put on the clothes that were set-aside for me. I forgot to take a closer look at my wounds. Strange, my body felt a little thicker? Thinner? No, that wasn’t it either. Oh, well. I put on the sweat pants, t-shirt and hoodie along with the slippers. It wasn’t unlike something I’d normally wear. The wolf was wagging its tail. I wondered if I would see Sandra again. Probably not.

         My new friend followed me down the hall to the bathroom. I couldn’t get it to leave me alone. I gingerly touched the side of my head and felt a crust where I had been bleeding earlier. Good, it had stopped. The fact that my fingernails had grown so much in just two days distracted me again and I was working on biting one off when I walked into the bathroom. They were hard little suckers. I’d ask for some clippers later. Thinking about looking in the mirror was making me a little nervous for some reason and I ran my fingers through my hair that still hadn’t been cut. I would ask for scissors too.

         What was I worried about? My reflection always looked a little scary and besides being in the middle of a life and death situation I felt great. I was more revived and energetic that I had been in a long time. I looked up. Something was wrong.

         When I realized what it was I threw myself backward into one of the stall doors. I couldn’t look away. No. Walking closer to the mirror proved that I wasn’t just seeing things. No, no, no. My eyes were blue not yellow.

         “My eyes are blue,” I whispered.

         No matter how much I denied it I was still staring into the unchanging brilliant, gold irises. I pulled my eyelids apart looking for contacts, but didn’t see any. Those were really my eyes.

         That was the beginning of my frenzy. When I grimaced my teeth looked wrong. My eyeteeth on both the top and bottom of my mouth were sharpened, the canines even longer and more pointed. Fangs. The dried blood came off easily. There was no wound underneath it, not even a scratch. Not a werewolf! The memory of my mangled shoulder returned to me again. It couldn’t be.

         I pulled my sweater and t-shirt off at once. There was no proof that I’d been bitten and this was all just a joke. I let my clothes fall to the floor. Standing and staring was all I could do now. My body was frozen. I was much leaner than I remembered and my muscles ere slightly more toned, but that’s not what had stopped me dead. No. That’s not what I wanted to see.

         My trembling fingers traced the crescent shaped pattern across my chest and shoulder, lingering on the area around the collarbone where the most damage had been done. It was a giant bite mark. The scaring was dark red and long tendrils extended from where the puncture wounds had been the worst. I turned so I could see my back. The scars covered my shoulder blade and the back of my arm. I gripped the sink until my knuckles turned white and my arms shook. My heart was pounding furiously in my ears. Werewolves didn’t exist. Things like this didn’t happen in the real world and they didn’t happen to me.

         “Wake up, Elijah, wake up,” I whispered through clenched teeth, “You’re not a werewolf, you were never attacked, you never met Sandra or left San Francisco. Mom never died. It’s not real. It’s not real!”

         The muscles in my back tensed and rippled under the skin, I gripped the sink harder and heard the high-pitched crack of porcelain. Slowly I looked back up through the locks of hair in my face at the golden eyes and bared fangs in the mirror once more.

         “I’m still human. I’M NOT A FUCKING WEREWOLF!!” I brought my fists down on the sink, breaking it off the wall and watching it shatter on the floor. I was losing control. Water sprayed from the broken pipes. Without thinking I shattered the mirror and cracked the wall behind it then whipped round and kicked a stall door off its hinges. The snarl that came from my mouth was not human. I had never been this angry before in my life. I wasn’t myself. Just as I started to look for something else to demolish an ear splitting bark rang through the bathroom.

         The white wolf stood there barking and snaring at me. It was enough to make me pause. It had my attention. I was shaking violently, my heart still racing. A single whine. The wall stopped me when I staggered backward and I slid down it to the floor staring at my palms. Something had gone horribly wrong. The wolf stared at me with its big red eyes looking very stressed. I reached out to it. Something had gone horribly wrong and I knew that no matter how hard I tried I would never wake up because I wasn’t dreaming. The wolf wormed into my arms and I buried my face in its fur. This wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t human anymore. The water was drenching us both, but I didn’t care.