looked absolutely stunned. Time rolled by. Finally the question was asked, the one Richard had been asking himself all morning. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
A deep breath. “I don’t think I can. It’ll ruin everything.”
“You can’t let her have the baby, you know. Don’t even think it.”
“Oh, I know. Letting the pregnancy continue isn’t an option, but she won’t have an abortion. I can’t even ask.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. An abortion is out of the question.”
“If not that, what? What’s left?”
“Well, to be honest, I was thinking of poisoning her. I’d be careful not to kill her, of course. But a high dose of those-morning after pills might, well… you know. Maybe I could crush them up and slip ‘em into her food for a week or two.”
“Will that work?”
Richard’s voice suggested it was a long shot, when he said, “Honestly, I can’t really say. I think you’re supposed to take them the next day, after sex. I don’t know… I don’t know what to do, Steve. I’m lost.”
They drove for another hour, stopped for lunch, and continued on. Conversation was minimal and for the most part, light-hearted. At one point Steve offered, “If there’s anything I can do, just ask.” But there was nothing he could do, nothing obvious anyhow, and both men knew it.
Day became evening.
They drove along a forgotten highway that few cars traveled. Cedar trees to the left of them, cedar trees to the right. A large hawk flew overhead as they turned onto a dirt road that led to a pathway that could hardly be deemed a trail. Deep in the woods, they were. Lost with the black bears and the insects, the crows and the deer. Lost in a place they called their own. Steve had purchased the land years earlier. Picked it up for a song , he said. The money he paid his lawyer to square the deal was equal to value of the land, he said. Steven Wendelle was no bullshit artist, and Richard knew he spoke the truth. Twenty acres of nothing––it was absolutely perfect.
As the sun began setting and the moon began to rise, they stripped down to their underwear and placed their clothing in the car. Sitting on a log, hands in their laps, they waited. Quietly. Peacefully. The August air was warm. It was fresh. The fact that Richard lied about working for the weekend wasn’t relevant. He loved his wife and she loved him. He also loved the sounds of the forest, which were comforting and serene. All thoughts concerning Jennifer and the seed in her belly was set aside. Other things were swiftly becoming more significant.
Richard was the first to feel the change coming on. He felt it in his spine and in his teeth. His knees popped and his shoulders buckled. Then, as he watched his hands grow long and his fingers turn to claws, he tried to articulate how much he enjoyed the transformation. What escaped his throat could only be described as a growl. Animal thoughts consumed him. A thirst for blood boiled inside his brain.
Steve didn’t notice these things happening to Richard; he was too busy becoming a monster.
The hunt would soon begin.
* * *
On the third day, right around the time Jennifer was expecting her husband to arrive home from his monthly trip, there was a knock on the door. She looked out the window and was surprised to find a police car in the driveway. She opened the door cautiously, wondering if she had done something wrong.
Two officers stood by the door. Expressions were solemn. The one that spoke first looked young enough to be in high school. He was lanky with eyes that bugged out of his head. The other cop, thirty years his senior, had a chocolate complexion and dark hair.
Jennifer sized them up quickly: the veteran was showing the rookie the ropes; they probably didn’t have a thing in common.
“Mrs. Beach?” The rookie said, clasping his fingers together.
“Yes?”
The veteran stepped forward with his
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
A deep breath. “I don’t think I can. It’ll ruin everything.”
“You can’t let her have the baby, you know. Don’t even think it.”
“Oh, I know. Letting the pregnancy continue isn’t an option, but she won’t have an abortion. I can’t even ask.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. An abortion is out of the question.”
“If not that, what? What’s left?”
“Well, to be honest, I was thinking of poisoning her. I’d be careful not to kill her, of course. But a high dose of those-morning after pills might, well… you know. Maybe I could crush them up and slip ‘em into her food for a week or two.”
“Will that work?”
Richard’s voice suggested it was a long shot, when he said, “Honestly, I can’t really say. I think you’re supposed to take them the next day, after sex. I don’t know… I don’t know what to do, Steve. I’m lost.”
They drove for another hour, stopped for lunch, and continued on. Conversation was minimal and for the most part, light-hearted. At one point Steve offered, “If there’s anything I can do, just ask.” But there was nothing he could do, nothing obvious anyhow, and both men knew it.
Day became evening.
They drove along a forgotten highway that few cars traveled. Cedar trees to the left of them, cedar trees to the right. A large hawk flew overhead as they turned onto a dirt road that led to a pathway that could hardly be deemed a trail. Deep in the woods, they were. Lost with the black bears and the insects, the crows and the deer. Lost in a place they called their own. Steve had purchased the land years earlier. Picked it up for a song , he said. The money he paid his lawyer to square the deal was equal to value of the land, he said. Steven Wendelle was no bullshit artist, and Richard knew he spoke the truth. Twenty acres of nothing––it was absolutely perfect.
As the sun began setting and the moon began to rise, they stripped down to their underwear and placed their clothing in the car. Sitting on a log, hands in their laps, they waited. Quietly. Peacefully. The August air was warm. It was fresh. The fact that Richard lied about working for the weekend wasn’t relevant. He loved his wife and she loved him. He also loved the sounds of the forest, which were comforting and serene. All thoughts concerning Jennifer and the seed in her belly was set aside. Other things were swiftly becoming more significant.
Richard was the first to feel the change coming on. He felt it in his spine and in his teeth. His knees popped and his shoulders buckled. Then, as he watched his hands grow long and his fingers turn to claws, he tried to articulate how much he enjoyed the transformation. What escaped his throat could only be described as a growl. Animal thoughts consumed him. A thirst for blood boiled inside his brain.
Steve didn’t notice these things happening to Richard; he was too busy becoming a monster.
The hunt would soon begin.
* * *
On the third day, right around the time Jennifer was expecting her husband to arrive home from his monthly trip, there was a knock on the door. She looked out the window and was surprised to find a police car in the driveway. She opened the door cautiously, wondering if she had done something wrong.
Two officers stood by the door. Expressions were solemn. The one that spoke first looked young enough to be in high school. He was lanky with eyes that bugged out of his head. The other cop, thirty years his senior, had a chocolate complexion and dark hair.
Jennifer sized them up quickly: the veteran was showing the rookie the ropes; they probably didn’t have a thing in common.
“Mrs. Beach?” The rookie said, clasping his fingers together.
“Yes?”
The veteran stepped forward with his
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