The Book

On Monday evening, Steve and Jack sat down by the reservoir on the lone green bench by its eastern shore. It was a beautiful autumn day, up in Rydel, and the trees shone a brilliant gold. Lit up by the setting sun, they rustled as a light breeze blew through the native maples that borne them. And then…silence…

“Why’s it gotta be like this?” Steve finally spoke, as he ran his hands through his hair. It was a bad habit, but one which he performed whenever he was nervous. And this certainly fit the situation. It was comical to him, how the habit had developed over the years, but he had to forget about those thoughts for now. He could feel the sweat starting to build on his brow as he leaned over his knees, dropping his head into his hands.

Jack turned from the setting sun and leaned in toward Steve. “Don’t do this, Stevie. Just give me the book and then it’ll all be over. I mean, does it really mean that much that it’s worth dyin’ over?” He was almost pleading at that point. It didn’t suit him, the pleading. Jack was big, and had always been that way. He had grown up being more like the guy who had people pleading with him, instead of the other way around. Today he was standing at 6’2” and weighed in around 220. He wasn’t the kind of guy who begged, but Steve was starting to wonder about that too.

Steve raised his head and tried to compose himself. “Yes,” he replied, “it does”. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a little black book and held it tightly on his lap. It appeared rather plain. Bound in black leather, a little red ribbon hung out of its side like a copperhead’s forked tongue.

Jack reached out for the book. “Come on, let me see it," he grunted. He didn’t want it to go down like this, but he had bills to pay and a life to live. Plus Danny wouldn’t be too happy if he didn’t follow through with it. And that was one guy whose good side you wanted to stay on.

“Can’t do it,” replied Steve as he pulled the book away. “I’ve gone through too much to get this thing, and I ain’t never goin' to give it up,” which was true by now. Marlene was dead, and so were their daughters Heather and Wendy. He was way past denial at this point, about what had happened. “They're dead because of him. And I’m gonna make sure he pays.”

“Look, Stevie, you know I can’t let you leave with that book!” responded Jack. “It’s got too much information that can be used against us, and Danny does NOT want that to happen!”

“Even if it’ll save lives you bastard?” Steve screamed. His pulse was beginning to race faster as his anger started to take over again. “I know you, J, the human life still has to mean something to you.” Now it sounded like he was the one who was pleading. Pleading for his one-time friend to listen to reason. Pleading for it to not end like this.

Jack squinted toward the setting sun, thinking about his options. On one hand was his friend who had come up through the organization with him. A man who would have (and had) taken a bullet for him. A boy who had once been his best and only friend only twenty years earlier. Could he do this to him? Could he do this to the guy who set him up on his first date? The baretta in his pocket and the $50,000 in cash at home said “yes”. He looked back at Steve again and saw the veins in his arms pushing up against his skin. For some reason it reminded him of the old Bugs’ Bunny cartoons when the rabbit would burrow around and push up dirt in his wake. “Almost time, huh?” he asked rather sheepishly. That last question had burned him up a little, making him rethink the decision he had thought about over and over again the past few weeks. Of course he cared, but he was a soldier, and that over-ruled everything else. If he didn’t go through with it, he was dead.

“Yup, it’s getting close,” Steve responded. He’d been watching the sun make its final descent toward the horizon. Slowly sliding, what seemed like millimeters at a time, it was now only a small pink arc on the skyline, with a second slice reflecting in the water that lie in between.

As the last remnants of light peered over the trees that stood to the west of the reservoir, Jack rose from the bench. He stared at the dwindling slice of orange and pink as it dipped below the horizon and turned his entire frame to face Steve’s hunched body. “Last chance,” he said as he reached into his pocket for the gun.

Steve continued looking off to the west at the orange clouds, which had taken over that part of the sky. He knew that his timing would have to be perfect to get this right, or it could be all over for him. “This book is the only thing that can save us, J. After we killed the first couple, I thought I could handle it. But over the years I’ve developed a conscience, and I can’t do it anymore. I want out. I NEED out. And the book has the cure.”

Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he yelled. “You and I have been in this together for ten years, and now you say you want out? No. I can’t do it. I can’t do it, and I won’t do it.” Jack had now pulled out the pistol and held it up to Steve’s temple. “Any last words?” he asked.

“Yeah,” spoke Steve. “Go fuck yourself.”

Jack pulled the trigger and a loud bang rang out across the reservoir, sending a flock of geese away from its north shore. Steve collapsed to his left and slumped against the side of the bench. “Shit,” stammered Jack, “not enough blood.” He stepped back and fired again, this time at the body, hitting Steve in the chest. Then fired another into his stomach. Blood began to ooze out of the wounds, running down the front and side of Steve’s white shirt.

After the three shots had blown the silence out of the peaceful area, Jack began to look around. "Probably nobody around for miles," he thought, "but either way I have to get out of here.” He pulled the clip out of the gun and threw the pistol into the reservoir. Holding the clip in his right hand, he began to walk back toward the body to take the book he had come for. And then he froze. Something wasn’t right. Standing there he looked down at his right hand and began to turn it over. When the clip was right side up again, he slowly dislodged one of the bullets from it, and brought the round close up to his face. He examined it and noticed what appeared to be an aluminum casing with a bronze tip. “No…” he whispered as he looked back up toward the bench.

Steve stood upright before him now, the book in his left hand and a pistol in his right. “Sorry bud,” he said in a growling voice, “but you shouldn’t have left that clip out where anyone could get to it. I made sure to replace those nasty little silver-tips you had in there with some standard ammo. Don’t worry though, it’s not your problem any more.” Steve was now standing close to seven feet on what were beginning to appear to be not just legs, but hind legs. He fired five shots at Jack, who still stood staring in disbelief, like a man who had just seen a ghost. His body hit the ground before the fifth round had even reached him.

Steve walked over toward the body of his old friend that lied on the edge of the reservoir and smiled. He hadn't wanted to take down his friend, but at least it was one less body standing between him and Danny. The full moon was coming up now and he realized that he didn’t have much time until the transformation took over. He looked back out toward the west at the ever-so-slowly darkening sky and swore to himself, “Tomorrow I’ll be coming for you, Danny. You and anyone who helped you kill them."

Over toward the path that led away from the reservoir Steve walked. A smile came to his lips, which had begun to tighten against his expanding teeth. And as he opened the book to the page which had been bookmarked, he began to recite, to himself, the list which would produce the cure, “Nitro Glycerine, check. Zinc Oxide, check. Silver sulfate…”