The Howling

Chapter Twenty-Two

Roy Beatty heard Inez' car approaching well before it reached the house. Since the other night when… when whatever it was had happened to him in the woods, Roy's hearing, along with his other senses, had become unnaturally keen. He was aware of the change particularly at night. As he lay sleepless beside Karyn he could hear a whole symphony of night sounds that had been inaudible to him before. Tiny forest creatures chittered and squeaked. Trees groaned, their branches clacked and whispered in the dark. The house itself had a score of voices as boards creaked, a shingle flapped, the stone foundation settled another millimeter.

The nights were restless times for Roy. He had acquired an ache in his joints that came when the sun went down and made it difficult for him to find a comfortable position in bed. Knowing how worried Karyn was, he held himself still and pretended to be asleep whenever she looked over at him. All the time his mind was fully alert and ranging far from the bed where he lay.

In the daylight hours his nerves jumped like worms on a griddle. Although he tried, he could not sit still for more than a few minutes. Karyn's presence in the same room irritated him for no reason. Only when he walked in the forest did Roy find partial peace. Striding along through the brush, inhaling the myriad new smells, listening to the daytime forest music — so different from that of the night — Roy knew a kinship with his surroundings. But even at those times he felt incomplete. When he returned home after hours of walking in the woods he would be jumpier than ever.

Roy had tried very hard to remember what had happened to him that night Karyn found him lying outside the door. All he could bring to mind were vague, shifting images. There was some kind of an animal, of that he was sure. And the eyes, always the eyes. Green as jade. Eyes that knew him too well.

But the picture would never form completely, and as his head began to hurt Roy would give up trying.

He heard Inez Polk's car drive away. A minute went by before Karyn came into the house. She was blurry and red around the eyes.

"Oh, you're home," she said.

"Yes. I found your note. Is anything wrong, Karyn? Have you been crying?"

She started to come to him, then something seemed to stop her, hold her back.

"Roy, are you feeling well enough for us to leave?"

"Leave? What do you mean, leave?"

"I want to go away from this place. It's not healthy for you or for me."

"Leave Drago?" Sudden apprehension sent a chill through him.

"The other day you said we would go back to Los Angeles. I'm ready now."

"I don't remember saying that."

"If we don't get out of here something awful will happen to us. I know it — "

Roy stepped toward Karyn and put his arms around her. She was stiff and unresponsive. He released her.

"All right, if you want to go, that settles it. We'll go."

"When?"

"We can't just walk away. It will take time to make arrangements. We'll have to do something about this house. And we sublet our place in the city for a full six months."

"How soon can we go?"

"Dammit, I don't know." Roy felt an anger building that was far out of proportion to the cause. He made an effort to be calm. "If you're in such a hurry, why don't you go back alone? I'll come after I get things straightened out."

"I don't want to do that, Roy. I want us to leave together."

"All right," he said, "we'll leave in a week. That will give me time to tie up loose ends here and find somewhere for use to stay in Los Angeles until we can get our apartment back."

"Thank you, darling," Karyn said, greatly relieved.

"Sure." Roy continued to fight down the irrational anger. "Now that it's settled, why don't we have a drink?"

"Are you sure it will be all right for you?"

"Hell yes. There's nothing wrong with me."

"I'll mix them. Are martinis all right?"

"Sure, fine." Roy had not taken a drink since his experience in the woods. He had no desire for alcohol now. But having a drink had seemed like a good way to get off the subject of leaving Drago. The raw smell of gin burned his nostrils as Karyn stirred the cocktails out in the kitchen.

She brought in two icy glasses and handed one to Roy. He took a sip, swallowed, and the liquor tore at his throat like broken glass. He fell into a coughing spasm.

Karyn, quickly putting down her own glass, came to his side. "Are you all right?"

It took several seconds for Roy to get his breath back to answer. "Some of it went down the wrong way, I guess."

"Maybe you shouldn't drink on an empty stomach."

Roy sniffed at the glass in his hand and his stomach turned over. "Maybe you're right." He set the glass down and moved away from it, trying to mask the overpowering revulsion he felt.

"I'll start dinner," Karyn said. "What would you like to eat?"

"It doesn't matter. The truth is I'm not very hungry."

"You really should eat something. You've barely touched your food the last two days."

"Cut it out, will you? You're starting to sound like a Jewish mother."

What Roy could not tell his wife was that he did have a hunger. A bone-deep gnawing need for something, he didn't know what.

"I only asked what you wanted for dinner," she said.

"I don't give a damn," he snapped. "Cook anything you want to."

Karyn looked up at him quickly. The hurt in her eyes made him want to reach out for her, but he could not. She turned away and went into the kitchen.

For their dinner she prepared pork chops with baked potatoes, creamed carrots, and a green salad. Roy barely picked at the vegetables. He knew his stomach would not accept them.

"Is something wrong with the food?" Karyn asked.

"It's fine. Too bad you burned the pork chops, though."

"They aren't burned, Roy. They're done the way I always do them."

"Then you always burn them."

Karyn chose her words carefully. "You have to cook pork well. You know that, Roy."

He slapped his napkin down and left the table. "I don't want to argue about any stupid pork chops."

For the rest of the evening Roy pretended to work while Karyn pretended to read. At last it was time to go to bed. Roy got in next to his wife and lay rigidly still, not wanting to touch her, praying that she would not touch him. The aching in his joints was the worst yet. After a very long time Karyn's breathing eased, her features softened. She was asleep.

Roy relaxed. Through a gap in the window curtain he could see the moon. He could not remember ever seeing it so bright. The light of it kept his eyes open and made sleep impossible. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. He meant to close the curtain, but when he looked out he was stunned by the beauty of the scene. The full moon suffused the forest with a pale silver light that made everything magical. Roy could not stay inside on a night like this. He gathered his clothes and carried them silently into the living room. There he dressed rapidly and went out.

He plunged at once into the deep shadows of the forest, but had no trouble seeing the path. The combination of bright moonlight and his improved night vision made the going easy. He inhaled and savored the tangy scent of the evergreens. The air was deliciously cool. Roy felt he was embraced by the night.

The tiny things that lived in the darkness — the rodents and the night birds — froze in the shadows as Roy approached. But he saw them and smiled. He was a part of their world.

The cramps in his joints grew suddenly worse. Roy slowed down and rubbed at his shoulders. There was a twisting ache in both his knees. He stumbled into a clearing, and the pain was too great for him to go on.

He recognized the clearing. It was the place where he had come upon Marcia Lura the night he had gone looking for Karyn's wolf. It seemed so very long ago, yet it was less than a week.

Breathing became difficult. Roy tore at his collar. It was loose at the throat, yet it choked him like a noose. He pulled the shirt open all the way down the front and peeled it from his back. Better. The cool night kissed his flesh. He eased into a sitting position and pulled off his shoes and socks. The grass was like velvet against his bare feet. The cloth of his pants rasped against his skin, and he pulled them off too. Roy pulled himself erect, naked in the clearing. He bathed in the clean night air.

Then a violent muscular spasm seized him and he lost control of his body. He dropped to the ground, his hands braced out in front of him. As Roy stared at his hands a growth of short yellowish hair spread over the backs. The fingers shortened and grew claws. The palms thickened into pads, and the hands were paws. Simultaneously, thick pale fur covered his body, his arms and legs twisted into new shapes, his ears grew points, his face lengthened into a muzzle. He flicked his tongue over the new cruel fangs in his mouth.

As his body changed, so did the mind of Roy Beatty. The logical, rational, well-ordered human consciousness was crowded into a far corner of the new intelligence. The mind that now controlled the body was wild and cunning. The mind knew — Roy Beatty knew — what had happened to him. He had become a wolf.

Tentatively at first, then with growing confidence, he tested the new body. He marveled at the way the four legs worked in effortless rhythm, bearing him swiftly over the ground. He turned his head to look down along the thickly furred back. He could see the long muscles moving smoothly under his pelt. And there was the fine thick tail that provided balance for this graceful creature he had become. The delight he felt at his transformation was beyond anything in Roy Beatty's experience. There were no words for it in the human vocabulary. He wheeled once around the perimeter of the clearing, then bounded off into the darkness of the forest.

He disdained the paths, moving easily through narrow openings in the underbrush. The powerful legs carried him swiftly along, the keen eyes and nose following faint animal trails. On he plunged, growing careless of the protruding twigs and branches as he discovered his body was protected by the thick covering of fur.

As he crashed through the undergrowth the big pale wolf became aware of hungers that squeezed his belly like a giant's hand. The craving was for food and drink, and other things. The need was powerful, but the spark of human intelligence that remained still fought it.

The wolf loped on. The satisfying stretch and pull of his muscles filled the consciousness of the beast and, at least for a while, kept out the dreadful hungers.

Then in mid-bound the wolf tensed and jammed to a stop. A sound from far away in the forest stabbed into the animal's brain. He froze, slowly turning the great head this way and that, sampling the air, listening.

The sound came again. A high-pitched wail of unearthly beauty. The howling. It spoke to the pale wolf, called to him. No steel-jawed trap could have kept the pale wolf that night from the one that howled.

The beast raised his muzzle to the night sky and gave his own answering call. Then with an unerring sense of direction he wheeled and ran back through the night.

It was in the same clearing where Roy Beatty had left his clothes that the pale wolf found her. A lithe she-wolf with sleek fur blacker than the shadows of the night. Her eyes reflected the pale moon in twin green sparks. Her lips drew back from the sharp strong teeth and the she-wolf gave a soft, taunting growl.

The nostrils of the pale wolf distended, filled with the wild, musky scent of the female. He stopped in front of her, feet braced wide, neck fur bristling, and gave an answering growl, low and harsh. The she-wolf switched her tail and moved away from him in slow, sidling steps.

He sprang at her, but the wolf bitch leaped nimbly aside and he came down on empty grass. The green eyes of the female burned into the darker eyes of the male. Roy Beatty the man had never known such overwhelming lust as now consumed the pale wolf. Again he lunged for the bitch, and again she sidestepped just enough to elude him.

The animal mind of the pale wolf understood the game then. He feinted another leap and the she-wolf moved to one side. Instantly he changed direction and sprang upon her. Their legs became entangled and they rolled together on the grassy carpet of the clearing. Their flashing teeth caught each other wherever there was loose flesh. They bit hard enough to hurt, but not to injure.

Abruptly the she-wolf broke off the mock battle and moved a short distance away. She turned and looked over her shoulder, offering herself to him. The pale wolf was on her in an instant, and took her with cruel animal haste. The climax was sudden and explosive. For a moment the two wolves stood locked together. Then the bitch pulled free and sank to her side. The male wolf dropped beside her, his tongue lolling, his ribcage working like a bellows.

At last they both lay quiet. The male told in soft growls and whines of the other hunger that was still unsatisfied. The female answered him in murmurs that said, Soon.

As the moon sank behind a ridge of mountains, the black she-wolf rose suddenly and slipped into the forest. Without a sound she was gone. The big pale wolf got unsteadily to his feet. The animal mind was becoming confused. Images faded and broke up, human and bestial thoughts intermingled.

The wolf's muscles twitched and jerked convulsively. Its eyes rolled wildly. With its graceful movements turned awkward, the wolf staggered toward the untidy pile of Roy Beatty's clothes.