The Cure

The machine looked like something out of a 1950s B movie, with blinking lights, metal rods, and the occasional electric spark, but the doctors had assured Adam that it would work. He took one last look at the machine, and then the nurse directed him to the platform bed in the middle.

Adam lay down upon the bed, feeling cold in the thin hospital robe. The nurse began methodically strapping Adam down, first fastening straps at his wrists and then at his ankles. Next she inserted needles in his arms, connected to tubes that led out of sight. Finally, she fitted a helmet onto Adam’s shaven head. Metal electrodes, cold to the touch, affixed themselves in a ring all around his crown.

“All set?” Adam asked.

The nurse smiled. “Just try to relax, Mr. Gantz. We’ll be ready in a minute.” She walked away.

Adam twitched his fingers and wiggled his toes, uncomfortable at the lack of mobility. But still, this sacrifice, like all others he had made recently, was well worth it. That is, if the machine would do what he was promised it could. As he lay there, he thought back to his appointment one month ago that had led to this moment.

“Yes, Mr. Gantz,” the doctor had said, putting him at ease. “All of us here at the Lycanthropy Institute truly believe that your condition exists, and we have in fact developed a method to cure it.”

“You’re telling the truth? I won’t be a werewolf anymore?”

“Well, Mr. Gantz, in all honesty, we don’t know if the method will work on everyone. Basically, we have located a major gene group that seems to be the one that leads to lycanthropy. What we do is act upon the gene, neutralizing it so that your cells won’t attempt to express it anymore.

“But,” the doctor cautioned, “our method is very new and very experimental. We don’t know if your particular brand of lycanthropy is—”

“Never mind that,” Adam interrupted. “Has it worked on others?”

“Yes. Ever since we started L.I. last year, over a hundred people have come to us to be cured.”

“And?”

The doctor smiled benignly. “And they have all been cured successfully.”

Adam had signed up for the treatment immediately. For too many years he had lived with the pain and burden of his monthly cycle. He still remembered the first time he came out of his werewolf stage, when he had just turned eighteen, his clothing in tatters and blood on his mouth and hands. They had never traced the disappearance of the Barrett girl to him, but he had been plagued with guilt for months afterwards.

Since then, he had made sure to stay indoors on the night of the full moon, locked in a closet or handcuffed to a bed. It didn’t always work, though, and Adam had resigned himself to the damage he would do the world in his wolf phase. It wasn’t as if he could control himself, after all.

But now there was a chance for him to be free of what Nature had forced upon him.

Adam’s reverie was interrupted by the doctor’s voice, coming over a tinny intercom. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Adam replied.

“Then we shall begin.”

Adam heard the clank of a large switch. A jolt of electricity surged through him, and he felt fluids seep into his body from the tubes.

After a minute, he felt a tingling, unlike any he had felt before. His skin and bones felt like they were stretching. Was that it? Was he stabilizing into his human form? Was he—

Sudden pain! Adam twisted himself against the restraints. He tried to scream as loudly as he could, but no sound came out. He whimpered instead.

What was happening to him?

“Well?” asked the doctor.

“The treatment is complete. Mr. Gantz is cured.”

“Excellent. Call the ASPCA, and tell them we have another stray wolf for them to put to sleep.”