High Moor (30 page)

John raised his head and looked into Billy’s eyes. “I’m going to kill you all.”

Billy turned to Simon. “I’ve heard enough from this prick. Tape his mouth up.”

John thrashed his head when Simon pulled a strip of tape from the roll. Lawrence grabbed a fistful of his hair and held him steady while Simon applied the tape.

Billy put down the hammer and removed a Stanley knife from the holdall. “Peace at last. Any more clever comments, John? No? Didn’t think so. Lawrence, you go and check the house. See if there’s anything here worth nicking. Simon, get your phone out and record this. Mal will want to watch it later.”

The beast hurled itself at the walls in John’s mind. It flooded his consciousness with a stream of emotions and images.

Let me out. Kill them. Eat their faces. Feast on their hearts. LET ME OUT.

Billy brought the blade up to John’s face. “I’m going to take one of your eyes now, John. Just the one. I want you to be able to see what we’ve done to the rest of you.” The blade sank into the skin of John’s left cheek, and Billy sliced through the flesh in a slow, deliberate journey to John’s eyeball. He felt the warm blood trickle down his face.

The beast redoubled its efforts; pain and fury combined in a furious assault. John felt his defences crumbling. The moon was moments away from rising, but it wouldn't happen fast enough to save his eye. John had no idea whether he'd heal from an injury like that, and he didn't feel like finding out.

LET ME OUT
.

Left with no alternative, he tore down the barriers in his mind and set the beast free.

The change began at once, hitting John like a jolt of electricity. His muscles went into violent spasms, and he fell back onto the floor.

Simon’s hand wavered as he held the mobile phone in front of him. “Billy? What’s happening to him? Is he having a fit or something?”

Billy shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve hardly touched him yet. Get the tape off his mouth. He might be having trouble breathing.”

Simon inched forward to where John thrashed on the floor and tore the strip of tape from his mouth. “There you go, mate. No harm done, eh?” Then he saw John’s eyes and backed away. “Oh Jesus…he’s…it’s…”

John turned his head to look at Billy. The cut on his cheek was gone, and his eyes had turned from blue to yellow. John’s jaw dislocated with a loud snap, and the front of his skull warped as the bones shattered and reformed. Hair burst from John’s pores, covering his pale skin in a thick brown carpet. His arms swelled with new muscle tissue, and tendons like steel cables stood out on his neck and forearms. The vinyl ties around his wrists burst open as the transformation completed, and the creature that had once been John Simpson got to its feet.

Simon and Billy bolted for the front door. The werewolf snarled and was about to pursue them when Lawrence walked back into the room.

“What the bloody hell is going on in…”

The creature turned to face him and peeled back its black lips to show twin rows of razor-sharp fangs. Blood-flecked saliva ran in rivulets from the werewolf’s mouth. It bunched its muscles, ready to pounce.

***

Lawrence turned and ran through the nearest door, into the basement. He leaped down the stairs and twisted his ankle when he hit the concrete floor. The werewolf filled the doorframe. He hobbled into the open cell, pulled the door closed behind him, and locked it.

The werewolf was at the door a second later. It's terrible face filled the small hatch, and it slammed against the metal door.

Lawrence was sick with fear, but the relief he felt at his narrow escape elated him, and some of his bravado returned. “Ha, you can’t get me in here, can you? What you gonna do now, you ugly bastard?”

The werewolf cocked its head, as if studying its prey. Then it reached down and the deadbolt began to move, and then slide back. The click as it unlocked the door had a terrible finality to it. Lawrence whimpered and watched the door swing open. “John, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

The werewolf filled the open doorway and sniffed the air, then walked into the cell. Lawrence’s whimpering became a high-pitched, thin squeal of horror as the creature brought its face to within inches of his and sniffed him. He felt his bladder loosen, and hot urine streamed down his leg. “Don’t…please…I’m sorry…I’m…”

The werewolf darted forward and bit down. Fangs tore through muscle and ligaments and shredded flesh. Blood ran from the creature’s mouth and mingled with steaming pool of urine at its feet. The werewolf pulled its head back and ripped Lawrence’s face off, leaving a screaming bloody skull with staring eyes. It swallowed its meal and howled in triumph, then shoved its claws into Lawrence’s chest and cracked his rib cage open like a lobster. Lawrence was still screaming when the monster pushed its snout into his open chest and sank its fangs into his heart.

***

Marie shoved her hands deep into her pockets and made her way along the dark trail to John’s house. The stars were visible, but shed little light, just enough to cast faint shadows against the darkness that gave it the appearance of a living, moving thing. A silver halo appeared on the eastern horizon, and Marie was thankful for the extra visibility. She saw the lights of John’s house through the trees and hurried onward, keen to get out of the cold.

The moon was completely above the horizon when she came to the end of the long track. She was about to cross the yard when the front door burst open, and two men dressed in black combat gear and balaclavas ran from the house. She stepped back into the shadows and took cover behind an overgrown laurel bush. The two men looked as if they would run straight at her, but then they changed direction, sprinted into the disused barn by the side of the house, and pulled the heavy wooden door closed behind them.

A long, savage howl sliced through the silence. After a second, a desperate scream followed, increased in pitch, then cut off.

Marie felt her heart race. She looked up at the full moon, now clear of the treetops, then back to the house. A dark shape emerged from the front door and sniffed the air.

“Oh no.”

***

Billy and Simon crouched in the barn between a pile of mouldering hay bales and the wooden walls of the building. Simon pulled his balaclava off and looked at Billy with wide eyes.

“What the fuck was that, Billy? What just happened?”

Billy shook his head and struggled to catch his breath. “Christ only knows. Either someone slipped us a shitload of acid, or our old mate John just turned into a bloody werewolf.”

Simon’s voice stammered as he spoke. “Do you think it got Lawrence?”

“What the hell do you think? You heard the screams same as me.”

Simon grabbed Billy’s arm. “It’s going to come after us, isn’t it? What’re we gonna do?”

Billy shook his arm free and hissed at his friend. “If you don’t keep your fucking voice down, then yes, it’s going to come right at us. Now shut the hell up and let me think.”

A howl reverberated around the courtyard. Simon turned white and backed against the wooden wall. “Billy?” he whispered.

Billy’s eyes were wide open in abject terror. He crouched behind a pile of hay bales and tried to control his breathing. He hissed at Simon through his teeth. “Quiet. See if you can see anything through that window.”

Simon edged his way along the wall to the single windowpane and peered through. The moon highlighted the trees in silver and cast soft, wavering shadows across the open ground between the forest and the barn. An owl hooted nearby. Then all was quiet. Simon withdrew from the window and stood with his back to the wall once more.

“I can’t see anything. Do you think it’s gone?”

Billy’s eyes widened even more. He tried to speak, but his voice had deserted him. He raised his trembling arm and pointed to the window.

Simon's heart lurched in his chest. He looked across to the window, but saw nothing except a large patch of condensation on the outside of the glass. “What? What did you see?”

Two clawed hands burst through the rotting wood to either side of Simon’s head. Talons sliced through his face and dug into his skull.

“Oh God, Billy. Help me. Do something. Do…”

The arms yanked Simon back through the splintered wood. A two-foot-long shard tore into his back and burst out from his stomach, bringing a section of his intestine with it. The werewolf pulled again, and the massive splinter sliced through the man’s torso with a ripping sound that made Billy want to throw up.

Billy shook off his terror and grabbed his friend’s feet in a vain attempt to pull him back inside. Simon’s scream turned into a gurgling wail, and his legs thrashed about in Billy’s hands.

The splinter creaked and then snapped, separating itself from the main barn wall. Billy braced himself against the base of the wall and pulled with every ounce of strength. He felt Simon slip towards him and, heartened by this, he redoubled his efforts, despite the fact that his friend had stopped kicking.

A wet, tearing sound filled the air, and the lower part of Simon’s body separated from the top half. Billy fell back onto the floor, still holding Simon’s legs. The upper half vanished through the hole and into the night. The blue-black loop of his intestines caught on another jagged piece of wood and then unravelled after the werewolf and its victim like a wet, meaty streamer until it pulled taut and snapped.

Billy stood shivering for a moment and looked at the gaping, blood-smeared hole in the barn wall. “Oh fuck this,” he said, and sprinted out of the barn, onto the long dark lane that led to Lawrence’s transit van.

***

The beast rammed its snout into the man’s chest, relishing the crunch of bones under its teeth and the sweet taste of the marrow on its tongue. It raised its head and howled in elation. After years of confinement, it knew the taste of freedom once again. The moon shone down on the creature and made its blood sing, and it let out small yaps of pleasure as it consumed its prey.

The beast could smell the fear on the other human and listened to the sound of its heart as it threatened to burst in the man’s chest. The prey was running. Millennia-old instincts awoke within it. The chase, the anticipation, and the kill. It turned away from the eviscerated corpse and bounded off in pursuit of its next victim.

***

Billy ran faster than he'd ever done before. Terror gave strength to his trembling legs, and the cold night air burned his throat as he fled for his life. He tried not to think about his heart pounding in his chest, or the pain in his lungs. His only thought was to get away, to put as much distance as he could between himself and the monster that had killed two of his friends.

He emerged from the shadows of the tree-lined driveway, and into the open countryside. He saw the van at the end of the track, its white paint turned orange by the street lights that flanked the main road.

I’m going to make it. I’m almost there.

He fished the keys out of his pocket without breaking stride, gripped them in his fist, and urged his tired legs to greater speed. Then he glanced over his shoulder.

Two green eyes bobbed in the shadow of the woods, getting closer at an alarming rate. The werewolf dropped down onto all fours and emerged from the darkness at a full gallop. Its ears flattened against its head, and its tongue trailed from the side of its open mouth as it ran. Muscles moved beneath fur with a sinuous grace that would have been mesmerising if it had not been so terrible.

Billy squealed in horror and tried to go faster. Then his foot caught in a pothole. The bones in his ankle broke with a wet snap, and he collapsed onto the track. White-hot pain coursed through his leg, and he cried out in misery and desperation. He looked behind him and whimpered.

The werewolf stopped running and stood on two legs once more. It advanced in slow, measured paces with clawed hands outstretched and its face contorted into a snarl. Billy picked up an egg-sized rock and threw it at the beast with what little strength he had left. It bounced off the werewolf’s chest. The creature did not even flinch. It stood over the man and howled in triumph. Then Billy punched it in the testicles.

The howl went up an octave, and for a moment, the creature stood frozen, stunned by the unexpected pain. Billy crawled away from it and tried to get to his feet. The bones in his ankle ground together in a flash of blinding agony, causing him to collapse to the ground again.

He tried to crawl away, but he had no more strength. The adrenaline that fuelled his flight had long since been expended. He felt cold, despite his layers of clothing. Then four-inch-long talons embedded themselves in his calf and ripped away muscle and sinew in a single swipe.

The bomb-burst of pain was almost too much for him; he wavered on the edge of consciousness. Only the agony that coursed through his body kept him from slipping into the mercy of oblivion as the werewolf started to eat him.

***

The beast tore into the carcass with its claws, eviscerating the body. The liver and heart were diseased, and the creature discarded them along with the intestines and stomach. It gulped down the kidneys, and when the torso had been emptied, it pushed its talons into the corpse’s eye sockets and cracked open the skull to feast on the succulent brains within.

When it had finished, little more than a pile of partially eaten organs and gnawed bones remained.

It sniffed the air and sorted through the myriad of scents that filled the night. The family of deer trembling amid the bracken to the north. The pungent aroma of a fox carrying a dead chicken back to her cubs deep in the woods. The scent of a human female, back along the trail near the house.

It left the shredded corpse behind it and ran back along the track, eager for the hunt to begin once more.

***

14th November 2008. Mill Woods, High Moor. 03.02
.

Steven shuffled in his seat and picked up the infrared goggles from the floor. The woods were silent except for the occasional displeased bleat from the goat in the clearing and sporadic calls from a barn owl as it searched the woods for its next meal. He scanned the trees for what seemed like the hundredth time and saw nothing in the grey haze to indicate any sort of life. Frustrated, he put the goggles back into their box.