The Perdition Tales

The Manner of the Moon, Part Two

For a long time in Jeffrey’s world, there was only darkness. Silence was the beast that shared power with that lack of light, and it seemed that nothing could invade into that ill-begotten emptiness. Jeffrey had much time to think about everything, especially to look back on things. He thought about his first encounter with these woods at the age of five. How excited he had been when he first discovered Charley, with its low branches and easy footholds. He must have climbed that tree a thousand times. But why did I always stay in my own world? Jeff wondered. Or did I ever return to the world from when I was five? Could I possibly have ‘hopped worlds’ at that first encounter and never looked back? Had I possibly traversed a thousand worlds too identical for me to tell the difference? If so, then do any of us really know where we are or whether the people we talk to are who we think they are?

Jeffrey soon traveled on from that time, looking now upon the more recent past, the fearful hour they had spent in that tree. We were between worlds, Jeff thought. Between universes. In none but out of space and out of time. Wait, out of time? That thought ripped Jeffrey from that dark emptiness and dropped him into the real world (or at least the world of werewolves) just in time for him to rescue his leg from a frothing, toothy mouth. A creature had been crawling toward him while he slept and he quickly yanked his leg out of reach of it. He had almost been out of time. Almost.

Jeffrey scrambled away from that creature but found himself still in the encroaching shroud of gloom obscuring his view. He heard the growls of many wolves but also the groans of animals grunting in pain or weariness. He saw the silhouette of the wolf that had almost stolen his leg. It had stopped for a moment, watching him. What are you looking at? Jeffrey thought. Why aren’t you attacking me?

With the animal frozen and the small amount of light filtering in from somewhere up above, Jeff was able to stand and look around. He was no longer in Mr. Cam’s fallout shelter. He wasn’t even in a building. From what he could tell, it seemed as if he was in a large pipe, almost a sewage line. But it seemed to have been drained. The rounded, rusted walls remained but the ground was not the mucky, festering sewage pipes of cities or even of town. It was the soft, earthen, barely damp floor of dozens of years of moss and fungus growth. He looked up into a funnel of light, seeing yellow eyes peering through riveted metal bones about a dozen feet above his head. His neck-length hair was wet from laying on the moss for God-knows-how-long and dark from the almost magically cleansing properties of this strange tunnel. It dripped down, clinging to the back of his head, allowing the vision of a lost knight illuminated by the fantastical glow of the moonlight above. A snapshot would have endured the fantasy realms for aeons. “Where am I?” he called up to the yellow eyes above. “Where are the others? What is this place?” All he could see in the glowing, filtered lunar light was the glinting of sharp teeth and the dulling of the eyes, as if his questions had sparked, if only for a moment, a deeply buried semblance of humanity. The yellow eyes then disappeared completely, bathing him in the light of total abandonment.

There was a growl from up ahead as more shapes resembling the waker began crawling from further down the pipe. He recognized their glowing eyes, yet, strangely, some of their eyes did not glow. Some of theirs were human. “I have feared this place,” came the familiar voice of his advisor. “I have found traces of it over the years but I never actually thought it was real,” Mr. Cam continued.

“What is it?” Jeff asked.

“I don’t think they have a name for it but it’s some type of hospital for injured wolves. Only, rather than making them better, they just feed them their leftovers. Us.”

“So that’s why these look strange,” Jeff said. “Are they still dangerous?”

“Probably,” Mr. Cam answered. “But I wouldn’t think they’re very fast.” He grabbed Jeffrey and the two of them began backing up as some of the wolves dragged themselves closer and closer. Jeffrey and Mr. Cam now found themselves beneath a drain, bathed in a column of light and standing atop a small mound. “It looks like these are all missing their hind legs.” And, as Jeff could see as some of them were doused by the light during their journeys forward, each of the wolves had stumps for their back legs. They were roaring and snarling and howling as they dragged themselves forward.

“Why do they all have the same wounds?” Jeff asked. “It can’t be one big coincidence.”

“Actually, it might be. Think about it. The loss of the legs would probably be one of the only injuries that would allow a wolf to live and be unable to help the pack. Other injuries aren’t a burden enough to leave them here.”

“That must be why some of them look human…ish,” Jeff said, backing off the mound as the wolves drew near. “The loss broke their spirits.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Cam reached down and grabbed what he thought was a rock and prepared to throw it. He stopped, however, when he realized that it was actually a skull, but not a human skull.

“Is that an-”

“Alligator,” Mr. Cam finished. “It seems like it. But why a gator?”

“I’m thinking there were alligators down here back in the day but these guys ate them. It’s the only thing I can think of.” The two of them had now made great strides up the tunnel, keeping a large distance between themselves and the broken wolves.

“Wait,” Mr. Cam said, gripping Jeff’s shirt tightly and stopping them in their pace. Over the howls and the roars behind, there was another sound. A deeper sound. A rumbling sound. “What’s that?”

The only answer was a powerful wind blowing through the cave, filling the cave with a roar unimaginable, a roar that knocked Jeff off his feet. Mr. Cam yanked him to his feet just as a wolf almost laid a claw inside his chest. It pawed and scratched the ground in frustration. “What if the wolves aren’t the only things down here?” Jeff asked no one in particular. “What if…what if there’s something else?”

Jeffrey turned to leave the wolves only to find something else - some…thing - standing before him. It was almost completely ingested by the darkness but Jeff could still see its insanely formed features, its horns and spikes that protruded at odd angles. Its tangled mass of fur and hair sticking in patches. Its row upon row of shark like teeth lining the inside of that hideous, huge, rotted mouth. Its horrible human eyes. They were the eyes of a fresh corpse, staring both into space and into Jeff’s very soul, demanding it, wanting it, needing it. The beast was indescribable in both hideousness and in its ability to draw out his desire. It was calling for him. It was speaking his name. Jeff remembered then that the only way to survive a Wendego was…was…

Was to avoid its home at all costs. No victims of a Wendego had ever survived. But there was something deep down calling to Jeff, drawing him toward this creature both ancient in sight and hunger but young in powerful ferocity and Jeffrey knew, deep down on some primal, subconscious level, that this was not a Wendego. This thing was something else. Something wholly unknown. And it wanted Jeffrey. And Jeffrey wanted to be a part of it.

Mr. Cam sensed what was happening and did the only thing he could think of to stop it: he dove at it and broke its connection with Jeff. Not enough to take it down but just enough to allow Jeff to regain his senses. The wolves were dangerously close again and this creature held Mr. Cam in its grasp, feeling his pulse, now probing into his heart and mind, bringing him into its fold. Jeff stepped forward to stop it but Mr. Cam brushed him away, struggling all of his will into giving Jeffrey his final instructions, his final commands and his final lesson. “Go to the manor,” Mr. Cam sputtered out. “Find the others. Leave this place.” Mr. Cam then began to scream and Jeff knew nothing else could be done. He turned and sprinted up the tunnel with the devil at his back and the hounds of Hell at his heels.

Only a few seconds into the run and Jeff heard his teacher screaming. The screaming was agonizing yet peaceful, painful yet short. His teacher had joined that creature. It ended mere seconds after its start. The thing was quick. It was deadly. It would be coming for Jeff.

Up ahead, Jeff saw a gate with a chain. It was the opening of the tunnel. Jeff reached it in moments only to find the door shut and the chains locked. Jeff struggled against its crank and eventually managed to open a wide crack. He squirmed and scratched himself against the protruding bolts and warped, jagged fragments of metal but eventually managed to squeeze his whole body through that small opening. The wolves were right behind but the opening was too small for them to leave the tunnel. He snapped the door shut behind him and leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, the crack burst open as the wolves and God-knew-what-else pounded against the other side. Jeff had no time to worry what else these sounds would attract as he jabbed one arm through the opening and gripped the chain. Holding tightly, he pulled it through, hearing it crank through its gears and shrink the crack. He pulled the chain as strong as he could until the only crack in the door was from the chain itself. Remembering his old skills, he tied a hasty bowline knot and backed away, catching his breath listening to the howls and watching the eyes stare through that small crack between what seemed to be two different worlds.

Henna awoke laying on hard stone, her head pounding and her hair wet from the damp, apparently moss-covered floor. She sat up a bit and wiped some dirt from the side of her face, then wiped her hand across her damp jeans. She was cold. It was dark, allotting her virtually no view of her surroundings. But she could tell from the hollow drip of water a few yards away and the complete and utter lack of forest noises that she was inside. There was no echo from the dripping water, so she assumed herself not to be in a cave nor a hut but actually in a building or a house of some sort. But she could see nothing.

There was a pounding and then light flooded her vision as tow mighty doors were pulled outward. Her eyes adjusted quickly and she could see that the doors were massive, nearly twenty feet high and two burly, primal men strained against the weight of those doors, holding them ajar. Dim light exploded in the chamber where she now was and she looked around, seeing stone walls and, sure enough, heavy levels of moss and fungi spreading across the floor, speaking of this monolith’s archaism. “Move along,” one of the men barked at her and followed the comment up with a slight, doglike growl. “This way.” She carefully gained her balance atop her two legs and ignored the throbbing of her head which spoke of bad sleep positioning. She limped and stumbled her way to the doors and by the time she reached them, the majority of the blood had already left her head, making it feel much better. Not great but better.

She reached the doors and politely (probably out of fear more than etiquette) ignored the terrible stench the two men exuded. Slipping past them, she saw only a hallway leading to a staircase. Much of the hallway, as well as a great chunk of the stairs, seemed to have suffered monumental scorches and burns. Evidently, much of this building - possibly a mansion or a castle - had been composed of wood that had had its beauty r***d from it by a terrible fire. The unsightly scorches that adorned the wall were black and crumbling. Henna suspected that the whole framework of the place was probably in architectural jeopardy. The various creaks and groans that emanated as she descended the staircase did nothing to alleviate her fears of a lethal collapse.

Eventually, Henna reached a landing and saw a large foyer full of more of the wolflike men. Some were thin and skeletal while others stood short, squat and heavily built, as if they were human tanks. And before them all, standing on a raised platform that had probably once been the mantle of a no longer existing fireplace, was another woman like herself. The woman was dressed in animal skins and had long, black hair trailing down her pale, moon-hued skin, ending halfway down her back. She wore no shoes and, as she turned to face her new guest, it became clear that she possessed yellow eyes, only the yellow of her eyes wasn’t glowing like the wolves. It was dark and dull, as if it was a natural, human eye pigment. “Hello, Henrietta,” the woman said. “Come forward so that the pack may view you better.”

Henna didn’t move. She stood there in mystified, trembling expectation, expecting to soon be attacked, skinned and eaten. The skin of the hut, Henna suddenly remembered, looking back into her memories upon the sight that had stolen the contents of her stomach. Is that what they use it for? Is that what adorns… She dared not think further on the subject and, out of fear of what might happen if she disobeyed their leader’s command, Henna stepped forward. The crowd of men - and she could now see wolves huddled amidst the mass - shuddered aside and made way for the girl of the different world. “Welcome, my dear,” the woman said when Henna stood before the pack.

“He-…Hello,” Henna choked out. “Where are…where are the others?”

“Your friends?” the woman asked. “They are where they belong.”

“And where would that be?”

The woman glared a bit, a face of malice threatening to make itself known. But that disappeared as the woman smiled at Henna. “Jeffrey and the old man were taken to the tunnels and fed to the Omegas. The wolf in me so desires that those of that tunnel be left to die but the human in me shows pity. But each year, Henna, the wolf gains more ground. With each passing year, I feel myself go further down that road of the beasts, down to where no human resides. I need you to save me, Henna.”

“What are you talking about?” Henna quivered. “And where’s Eddie?”

“You will know in time,” the woman responded. Then, remembering she forgot an introduction, she held Henna close, sniffing her lightly, taking in the girl’s aroma. Leaving a soft kiss upon her cheek, she turned back. “I am the Alpha Female of this pack, young Henrietta. I will tell you things for there are things that you must know. You need to know of us in order to be what I need you to be.”

“And what is that?”

“You will know in time.” The Alpha turned away, looking outside through another pair of massive doors that were being propped open directly across from the staircase, allowing in some light of the moon. The wolves had dared not light torches in this place. The burns and remains of a previous world spoke of the dangers of such a negligent act. “Many years ago, I was a young girl of this town, Henrietta. I saw many horrible things come to pass here. There was the corruption, then the disease and finally, there were the alligators that arose from the swamp. But the swamp has long since turned to forest and the alligators died off long ago, just like most of this town’s original inhabitants. I was happy when this manor burned. I had always suspected that it was somehow responsible for the evil here. And now it houses us.” She laughed a bit. But the laugh was not a happy one. It was a laugh of irony, filled with sadness and flowing with regret.

“Before the town died, I met someone who came from a different world, through that tree that you used. I know not his name. We simply call him The Beast. I know not if he was from your world but I loved him.” The Alpha paused for a bit. Henna almost sensed a desire to cry but the woman set her face as stone and continued with her tale. “He seduced me one night. I loved him. But he only wanted to return to his home. It was only after he left that I realized what he had meant by being ‘glad to be a man again.’ I saw not the deeper meaning until it was too late. I became what you have seen. I suffered his curse.”

“He was the first of our kind,” the Alpha said. “At least, the first to this world. His words make me think it was a lot harder for him to regain this form than it is for us.”

“And then,” Henna said, finishing the tale on her own. “And then, you made all of them. And you survived the corruption, the disease and the crocodiles.”

“Alligators,” the Alpha corrected. “This is not Africa.”

“And now you want me to succeed you as Alpha Female?” Henna went on questioningly.

“Of course not, you arrogant little girl!” the Alpha said. “I will always be Alpha Female. And I will always wait for the return of our Alpha Male. What I want you to become, Henrietta…” The Alpha brushed Henna’s hair from her eyes and stared deep into them as she had, on many occasions, hoped Jeffrey would. “Is my Beta Female.”

“What?” Henna asked, backing away and breaking the stare.

“Our numbers are growing thin,” the Alpha explained. “Usually, only the Alphas mate. But I cannot do that by myself. As such, I need you, as my Beta Female, to mate with my Beta Male and bring pups into our pack.”

“Who is the Beta Male?” Henna asked, already knowing that, no matter who it was she could refuse.

A wolf stepped up near the platform. Another stepped up beside it. “These are the two that will fight for you.”

As Henna watched, each of the wolves bristled its back and bore its teeth menacingly, trying to gain dominance over the other. When neither backed down, they ran at each other, not biting but throwing their heads forward and trying to hit each other with their teeth, as if their teeth were small swords or clubs. Their shoulders (or fore hips, as Henna would later refer to them) collided, creating a mass of roiling, rolling, barking fur and glowing yellow eyes. It seemed almost as if the larger wolf was winning but then the smaller squeezed out of the vice in which the other held it and sank its teeth into the other’s neck. The other went down with a squeal and stayed low, finally submitting and slinking away. The wolf now stood on its hind legs before Henna.

“I believe we’ve found our Beta Male,” the Alpha she-wolf in human skin said. “Show her who you are.” The wolf began to change itself before Henna, its hair shrinking back and falling off at the same time. Its canines sank backward in its mouth and the rest of its teeth flattened out as the snout diminished and the yellow dimmed from the eyes. In moments, what had previously been a wolf and now found its form in Eddie, the Beta Wolf, stood before Henna, his prospective mate. “No,” Henna said. She tried to say more but the only thing her mouth would utter was that same word, “no.”

“I have been here before,” Eddie explained. “That’s why I brought you here tonight. I did not mean for Jeff to die-”

“Jeffrey is dead?!” Henna screamed. “You bastard!” Then, turning to the woman by her side, Henna yelled at her, “you b***h!”

“Jeffrey serves no purpose here,” the Alpha explained. “His main purpose - and yours, Eddie - was in finding the old man. He was killing my kind. Our kind. He got what was coming to him.”

“Wait,” Henna said, finally overcoming her horrific shock. “You were a wolf this whole time?”

“Yes, Henna,” Eddie said. “I have been for awhile now. I accidentally came here and ran into her.” He motioned to the Alpha that was staring down at the two of them. “She gave me power and strength. Believe it or not, I’ve always kind of resented Jeff. He’s always treated me like a child.”

“Then just grow up, you s**t,” Henna said.

“And,” Eddie growled a little under his breath. “So, I brought the two of you here. Jeff was unnecessary but I needed him to get you. I was to bring you and find Mr. Cam. I led the wolves to that bunker, Henna. I let them take the three of you. Because we all needed you. I brought you, as I was told, and helped them catch their threat, as I was told.”

“Very obedient,” Henna mocked. “Just like a stupid dog.”

“It’s funny that you call us stupid, Henrietta,” the woman said. “When you fell for the whole trick.”

“After all of this, do you really think I’ll help you?” Henna asked. “Honestly.”

“The wolf in you will change your views,” the Alpha said. “When we change you you will see things from our perspective.” The woman now began to circle Henna, staring at the girl’s throat with hungry, salivating lips. “The time to discuss is over, Henrietta. You will join our pack now.” The Alpha Female moved close to Henna now, pulling back her hair. “It will only hurt for a moment,” she whispered. “Then the world will explode in beauty and in love. Tell.” The Alpha paused and looked back up at Eddie. “Listen to his story,” she said. “It will take your mind off of things.”

“The ancient Indian knew much of what was real,” Eddie started, moving closer to Henna and the impending smell of her blood. “It was him that first breathed the legend of the wolf heart. ‘It’s said that there are two wolves fighting in a man’s heart. One wolf represents love, the other hate. They fight an endless war and only the survivor may stand before the Great Spirit in the end and declare his victory, then head to his eternally judged home.’”

“And which wolf is that?” Henna asked through broken tears that streamed down her face, crashing to the dusty, earthen floor. The Alpha Female was breathing hot air upon her neck, her fangs bared and prepared to inject the poison in her blood.

“’The wolf you feed,’” Eddie finished. “You see, Henna, man has always had the wolf inside him. But it takes our ways - our capabilities - to bring that wolf to light, to hand him the reins and let him judge your life. Release your wolf, Henna. Let it take your place amongst the pack.”

“Don’t listen to them, Henna,” came the voice that saved her life. The Alpha backed away and Henna straightened her neck to see her beloved Jeffrey standing in the doorway, two pieces of glinting metal in his hands. No, Henna realized. Not metal; silver.

Two men quickly morphed and rushed at Jeffrey but he flicked the silver pieces and they embedded themselves in the wolves, flooding their cortexes with nauseating fever and pain. They howled in agony and fell back, writhing in the floor as they tore the jagged shards out. But not before Jeff had flung the grenade, which exploded near the former mantle, momentarily releasing Henna’s confoundment and presenting an escape route. The wolves - including both Eddie and the Alpha Female - were caught in drifts of smoke as Jeff tossed a few lit smoke bombs that rolled their way through the crowd. Henna reached the door and, staring back at Jeff’s aftermath, simply asked “where did you get these things?!”

“Let’s just say, God bless Mr. Cam and his hidden traps.” Jeff took part of a second to think of his journey to this hollowed, burned husk of a manor and thought of the screams that had echoed in the woods, following him beneath the full, bloodred harvest moon. These had sounded more like banshees than wolves and Jeff had thought his goose was cooked until he heard the release of a spring loaded contraption that went off, shooting clouds of mysterious dust but also revealing the unexploded grenade and smoke bombs. The trap had been, for the most part, a miserable failure but that failure had resulted in a weoponizing of Jeff. His fear had thus diminished as he approached the manor.

Jeff took the other fraction of the second to take off after Henna, knowing exactly where they were headed. Luckily, their old friend waited almost ridiculously close to the mansion. By the time the wolves had emerged from the house and begun their frenzied, howl-filled romp to the tree, the two were already halfway up its tangled branches. When we get back, Henna thought. I’m going to burn you down. However, she would later decide against that as (aside from the fact that it turned out he, for some mysterious reason, wouldn’t burn) it would set her whole neighborhood aflame. That arsonistic desire never even struck Jeffrey, though, as he was very loathe to burn down or kill a living tree.

They climbed higher and higher, trying desperately to outdistance the wolves who were now encircling the tree. They were not climbing, however. They must be as afraid of our world as we are of theirs, Jeff thought in relief. They reached a point higher than they had ever climbed before and stopped, balanced precariously on a branch that could easily break at any moment. Henna looked down. The wolves were still there. “Why are the wolves still there?” Henna roared. “Why aren’t we home?!”

“I know,” Jeff said. He took a deep breath and looked into Henna’s eyes. “I can’t go with you, Henna,” he said.

“Wh-…what?” she could only respond. “What are you talking about?”

“I was bitten.” Jeff pulled back the left sleeve of his shirt, revealing a bloody bitemark that stained both red and purple. Already, red lines were spreading from it, indicating infection…but this kind of infection only killed the man. It allowed the wolf to live. “Back when we found the village. When you two were in the hut. That wolf that was chasing me, it caught me. I…I…” He reached over and wiped away Henna’s tears. Then, in a moment Henna would never forget, Jeff took her in his bruised and tired arms and kissed her, not a kiss of simple passion or of summer fling but a kiss that spoke of the blending of spirits, a kiss that signaled the blending of souls into one flesh. She cried as he eventually pulled away from her and looked back into her eyes. He would not be there to wipe her tears away anymore. With her mind reeling and unalert, disjointed and out of time and framework with the universe, Jeff laid one hand on her shoulder and pushed her off the branch. She stumbled for a moment, almost caught her balance and then fell, careening downward, down toward the roaring, howling song of the wolves waiting below…

A week went by before Henna finally awoke, the dripping water of that chamber in the mansion was now replaced with the steady beep-beep-beep of the monitor beside her bed. Her head was bandaged and she fell back into the world of dreams as nurses, doctors and orderlies performed their daily rounds…

A month had gone by before she finally returned home. The doctors said she had suffered a serious concussion and fallen into a shallow coma due to a fall from a tree. Luckily, the owner of a passing carnival had been passing through the woods and found her. He had rushed her to the hospital and then disappeared as circus folk tended to do in their ever-enigmatic ways. She had since spent most of her time inside, avoiding those shallow woods, it seemed, at all costs.

Her friends, Jeffrey and Eddie, had gone missing. That totaled up to three missing persons in two months. Some men in dark blue jackets with the words Federal stamped on them had rambled through, asked their questions and left. The missing three were never found, at least to the town’s knowledge.

Henna stayed in her room a lot, thinking about things and wondering what was real and what wasn’t. Had she possibly heard the story of the missing three while in a coma and incorporated it into some imaginative story. Had she ever really been that close to Jeffrey or Eddie at all? Her memories were a jumble. The doctors assigned it to the results of her condition and ascribed her to a therapist. But he would be of no help.

For hours into the night, Henna would lie awake in her bed with her window open, listening to the sounds of the woods behind her house. And she would swear that sometimes, in the gleaming hours of the morn, she would hear a howl, a mournful song that called to her. She dared not mention it to her parents nor to her therapist but she liked to think that, somewhere out there, Jeffrey was calling to her, singing her to sleep and warning her not to return. She would oblige his wishes. Yes, she would courteously oblige.