Paradise Lots 12 Cometh the Coyotes
Full Moon Howl
At the top of the ridge, the moon shone high overhead through the trees. Lurleen could hear the howls of the coyotes. They were still far off, though it must be past midnight by now. She sat just inside the blind. She could see out, but no one could see her.
The Man of the Woods crouched against the outer cave wall, sniffing the air and listening. He relaxed, unconcerned about a gang of were-coyotes or hopped-up humans looking for a fight.
Lurleen tried to stay grounded, to release her tense muscles and breathe deeply.
Dean was vicious, having no compunction about ripping a victim to shreds. Then the gang would feed on the body, dismembering it, leaving little for anyone to find, much less identify. The gang never picked on big guys, though, preferring homeless junkies with little fight left in them.
She hoped things would work out, but she knew in her heart that Dean would have to die. She would never be free any other way.
Who would she be without Dean? How could she protect herself without him and the gang? They let no one else near her, preferring to abuse her themselves.
She tried to imagine living on her own, like Bridget. No mother or sisters to put her down. No turning tricks or rolling drunks. She could not see herself anywhere that she thought she could go. No men in her life.
As she tried to picture her life in her own space, she heard the rustling of leaves under coyote paws, and the howls of the gang coming close.
The men in her life were back, growling to recapture her and drag her back to their den.
She grit her teeth. She was not going.
“Stop!” The Man of the Woods held up a hand. “Come no closer. Shift, and we will talk.”
The coyotes hung back for a moment. Then the largest one barked. They attacked.
The Man of the Woods took on his elk shape, taller at the shoulder than he had been as a man, with huge antlers and broad hoofs. He stomped one coyote and slung another one into a tree trunk.
One coyote got close enough to snap at the elk’s haunch, but a hoof knocked him out. The gang circled the elk, looking for access to his underbelly or neck. Each time the elk tossed or stomped a coyote, the others came in closer while the injured one healed.
Lurleen watched, holding her breath. The battle seemed to go on for hours.
The elk must be getting tired, but even with magical strength, he could not last forever. Maybe not even until dawn.
The coyotes were healing slower too, but they kept coming back. Now they worked two at a time, snapping and scratching, jumping and trying to bite.
The elk could not kill the coyotes. He could hurt them, stab them, trample them, and toss them, but he could not decapitate them. At most, he might hold them off only until the sun forced them to sleep.
Lurleen made her way back to the deep cave. The light was still there, leading her. She expected every moment to hear the howls of the gang pursuing her by scent down the passageway. If they found her, they’d rip her apart.
She needed a weapon, but the Man of the Woods did not use them. He did have a knife, a big butcher knife in his tiny kitchen. Every kitchen had a knife.
The heat in her belly increased as she panted from running, pushing the thoughts of what she planned to do from her mind.
The way back up seemed twice as far, three times as steep. Lurleen ran, gasping for air, stopping for a moment here and there to rest, then running on.
When she reached the opening of the cave, one coyote was hanging from the elk’s foreleg. The elk shook it off, then gored it with his antlers and tossed it against a tree.
The coyote lay limp, not breathing. Lurleen sneaked around the melee to the injured one. She grabbed the coyote’s muzzle to keep it shut, and sliced its throat. She sawed through its spine like killing a hog. As the beast died, it shifted back to a human form, much bruised and cut. It was Will, the youngest.
She looked back to see the biggest coyote heading for her. Dean.
The elk saw him too. Not trying to stop the others, the elk leaped for Dean, landing his huge hooves on Dean’s chest.
The injured coyote snarled at Lurleen while the other two coyotes attacked the elk.
With a surge of adrenaline, Lurleen stabbed Dean through his ear and his brain. He stopped moving. She cut off his head, and sobbing, turned back to the elk.
One coyote leaped for the elk’s belly as it turned to gore the other one. Sharp canines ripped fur and skin, exposing entrails. With a bellow of rage and pain, the elk reared up and crushed the other coyote. He swung his antlers and gored the last one, ripping its throat open.
Still surging with rage, fear, Lurleen decapitated the other two coyotes.
Then she collapsed. All her energy drained. She wanted to lie down and die.
She’d helped with hog killing and field dressing of deer and other animals. But these animals had once been, at some level, human.
She wailed.
“Lurleen,” The Man of the Woods whispered. “Help me.”
She stared at the now-naked man, his belly ripped open. She shook her head, unable to speak.
“You... can... do...this...” He gasped.
She crawled over to him, struggling to breathe. She pushed his guts back into place and held her hands against them.
That was how Bridget and Marie-Ann found them in the morning.
Marie-Ann and Bridget dragged The Man of the Woods back into the cave on a homemade travois. There was no way to get him back down to the road.
Mac carried Lurleen, covered with blood, barely conscious. She pointed the way back to the living area, but when they arrived, she passed out.
Shorty started collecting body parts, stuffing them into an industrial waste bag.
Bridget set about seeing what she could brew from her own stash and what The Man of the Woods had. She washed his wounds, which were already healing despite the lack of bandages or stitches. He did not stir. His breathing and vitals were steady, and he was in a deep trance with no sign of fever or infection despite some bites and scratches.
After making a poultice for his wounds and binding them, she made tea. Everyone was exhausted from the night before and the steep climb to the cave.
“Do you think he’ll turn?” Marie-Ann asked.
“No,” Bridget said. “If he does, it won’t be until the next full moon.”
“What about Lurleen?”
Marie-Ann’s eldest seemed to be in a coma, breathing with a steady if light heartbeat, but unresponsive.
Bridget shook her head. “I didn’t find any wounds on her, despite all the blood.”
Marie-Ann nodded. She’d seen the remains outside. “Can we move her?” She cleaned the knife that she’d found beside Lurleen.
“I wouldn’t.” She nodded toward the far side of the cave, where the stream made a small waterfall. “We need to see where that goes. Maybe there’s a way down on that side.”
Marie-Ann made her way up that side of the cave. The opening was small, much too small for a human.
Bridget poured some tea into a mug. “You go on back to Paradise Lots. I’ll stay here, look after things.”
“Will you be all right up here by yourself... with them?” Marie-Ann put the knife back in the kitchen area. She didn’t see enough food to feed five people. “What about the bodies? Reckon that's all of the gang? Is it over?”
“I don’t think anyone is looking for them.” Bridget set her mug down. “Shorty and Mac will handle them and the truck. It’s best not to ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
'It’s best not to ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to' is the best advice ever!