Hair, Greg - Werewolf 01, page 21
It was a cool February day, and Landon had Jamie dress the part so as not to attract attention. Jamie liked being able to dress anyway he wanted in the winter, but he knew that if he were walking around in shorts, people would become curious.
“How far is it?” asked Jamie.
“It’s a little while,” said Landon. “We’ve got a couple of counties to go through.”
“Why aren’t you more upset with me about what I did to Paige and that girl, Jenny?” the teen suddenly asked.
“You have no idea how angry I am about that. Their blood is forever on your hands. You’ll have to deal with that. But I’m trying to stay focused on the good in you. You were a better person before Nicholas infected you.”
“Stop being so dramatic, and stop blaming him for everything. Maybe this is who I really am, and he just set me free. The Consuls said that I did not act of my own free will. What if I did?”
Jamie waited for Landon’s response, but it never came. Both sat in silence for the remainder of the car ride. Jamie spent the rest of the time wondering, again, what he was going to see in Indiana.
Finally, they came upon a field off a road in south-central Indiana. Landon pulled the car over, and both got out. There wasn’t another person around for miles. The landscape was bleak, though there were spots of trees here and there.
“I don’t get it,” said Jamie. “It’s an empty field. What am I supposed to see here?”
“Use your other senses. It’s not always about what you see.”
Jamie listened intently, but only heard a dog walking in the distance. Then he inhaled. He inhaled deeply to get a sense of what the air, even the ground, might give up. Then, out of nowhere, there it was, ever so faint but still present.
“What is that?” Jamie asked with an expression that belied the pungent odor that only he and his father could smell.
“Gasoline,” said Landon. “Smoke. Flesh.”
“What the hell is this place?” asked Jamie.
“Twenty years ago,” Landon began, looking down as he strolled along the ground, “a young boy, not yet a teenager, was burned alive in this spot. That, of course, was after he had been tortured for hours. A farmer found the body.”
“Did they catch the men who did it?” asked Jamie, the disgust evident on his face and in his posture.
“Who said it was men who committed the crime?” Landon asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they’re men today,” said Landon. He noticed the look of disbelief on Jamie’s face.
“His name was Sean,” he continued. “Like I said, he was tortured for hours in ways you can’t imagine. At one point, in the middle of it all, he responded to his captors, talking out loud as if he were talking in his sleep with a simple plea, ‘Mommy.’ They later burned him alive. You and I are able to pick up the smells that others can’t. This, son, is why I do what I do. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when he needed me.”
“So you go through all this, using your abilities to track down criminals and their victims, and people still die. No matter what you do, they still die.”
“We’re not gods, Jamie, but we still have to try. All the children that are lost and crying out for help—we can’t give up on them.”
The cold ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked through the field.
“We used to be,” Jamie said.
“What do you mean?”
“Gods. We used to be gods. He was right.”
“Who was right? What are you talking about?” asked Landon.
“Nicholas was right. Mortal humans are the real monsters. And if they had the chance, they would do to us what they did to that boy.”
“No, Son, he was wrong,” said Landon, stopping in his tracks. “Not all humans are like that. Only a small minority are so full of evil that the world needs us to be here. Just as there are only a few vampires and werewolves that are evil. That is what we combat.”
“You can say what you want, but I know he was right.”
“It’s incredible, the hold he had on you and the impression he left.”
Jamie inhaled one last time, looked at Landon, turned, and walked back to the car. Landon joined him, and the ride back to Kentucky was the same as it was when they left the Bluegrass State.
Jamie sat in psychology class at school, listening to the teacher drone on during a short clip of the most recent adaptation of The Wolfman. The topic was delusional disorders, specifically therianthropy, which the teacher explained as the idea of a person morphing into some kind of animal, the most popular extension of the psychosis being lycanthropy.
Jamie found it funny that the character of Lawrence Talbot in the movie actually turned into a werewolf as the character of the doctor was discussing the idea of lycanthropy. This was a similar irony, Jamie thought. The teacher rambled about lycanthropy, disrupting the clip the class was supposed to be watching, with no idea that an actual werewolf was sitting just feet away. Soon Jamie became bored and laid his head down on his desk in the dark room.
He stood in a land of deep, lush green grass and grey rocks. The sky directly above was a dark blue, while in the distance, dark storm clouds approached. A blue river ran through the countryside, separating him from his father, who stood on the opposite bank. Nicholas walked up beside Jamie and pointed at the running water, causing him to notice that a river of blood now rushed through the creek bed as wind gusts flowed over the land. Jamie at first noticed the smell of heather; now it reeked of death.
Jamie looked back up at Landon, who seemed to be calling to him, though he was unable to hear his father’s voice. Nicholas touched his shoulder, making a motion with his head for him to look behind. Approaching in the distance, through an encroaching fog bank, was a host of werewolves and vampires. Jamie turned again toward Landon. This time, his father was on his knees. He could hear Nicholas in his head. You are one of us.
The sound of the thick book dropping on the wooden desk made Jamie pop his head up.
“Not a good way to begin at a new school is it, Mr. Murphy?” asked Mr. Lloyd.
The other students in class gave a collective chuckle as Jamie wiped drool from the corner of his mouth.
“May I go to the restroom?” he asked.
“Go,” said Mr. Lloyd, obviously annoyed with his new student.
The stench of urine hit his nostrils when he entered the restroom. He looked under the stall doors and found he was alone. Jamie closed his eyes, splashed water on his face, and looked into the mirror.
The dream—the dream was so real. He had felt Nicholas’s hand on his shoulder as they stood in that strange land. His hands cupped more water, and as it ran down his face, he thought about the last time he saw Nicholas. The mighty werewolf had been impaled and entombed. He was dead. Nicholas was dead, and Jamie was in school. Jamie turned off the water and returned to class.
That night, Landon stood in the twins’ room and watched them as they slept. Behind him, coming up the stairs, was Jamie. Landon crept out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and into the hallway where his oldest son was waiting.
“This is not the happy ending you wanted,” said Jamie.
“No, you’re right, it’s not. But I still have hope,” Landon said, taking a couple of steps toward Jamie.
“Why? Why do you still hold out hope for me? For us?” asked Jamie, mirroring his father’s steps, moving toward Landon.
“Because you’re my son. That’s what I’m supposed to do,” said Landon.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future,” Jamie said. “You and I may never have the kind of relationship other fathers and sons have. And you really shouldn’t expect me to call you Dad.”
“I understand,” said Landon. “We’ll take it slow.” He was listening to the advice given back at Burghausen— let them come to you.
Jamie turned, walked down the hall to his bedroom, closed his door, and turned off the light. Landon stood there and thought about the nearby liquor store. He could almost hear a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey calling his name. Then he came to the conclusion that it was all in his mind, and not a result of his heightened sense of hearing.
Entering his bedroom, he heard a distant thunder ripple over the South End of Louisville. He looked out his window, hoping that the lightning on the dark horizon would shift and change direction, but he knew it was coming. He knew the storm was still heading his way.
Werewolf (v5.0), Hair, Greg - Werewolf 01
