Page 18 of Strange Lights

“Calvin,” I call, and he turns, blinking away the blood dripping from the deep scratches raking down his face. I can see the arches of teeth marks across his forearm, already closing, healing. The scratches gouging his face are knitting together before my eyes, a line of angry pink already fading to silver at the far edges of the wounds.

Fuck. Too late, I’m too late.

Calvin takes a step toward me, pauses, and his head jerks like he’s trying to get rid of a bad thought. Then he starts to shake. He flexes his hands, brings them up to stare at them in astonishment and horror as his fingers elongate, razor-sharp claws unsheathing with an almost audible pop.

There’s no antidote, no cure. He will be hunted forever.

“Calvin.” This time I can barely whisper it.

His head snaps toward me in the same way I’ve watched Eldi move countless times whenever she sights something she particularly wants to eat. I still see Calvin in there, but his eyes have a reflective sheen like Eldi’s now. When he registers my pointed gun, his lips curl, and his whole body angles into a crouch. Eldi answers him with a warning snarl.

I react instinctively and pull the trigger. When the dart finds its mark in Calvin’s biceps, the predator I saw disappears. Maybe it worked; maybe the vaccine helped in time. His hands are normal human hands, the sharp canines and sharp claws gone, his eyes a warm, deep brown again, no hint of reflected light. Eyes that are horrified and confused. He gives me a look filled with hurt and betrayal as he reaches up a hand to the back of his shoulder and yanks out a dart.

Shit. I can’t remember how many shots I fired.

I notice the dart in his thigh only as he plucks it out next. Already his movements are becoming slow and clumsy. He starts to lean and sinks to his knees as he pulls the dart from his biceps. The only intentional one.

“You shot me. Reggie. What the fuck?” Calvin slurs out before his eyes roll back and he topples over.

Oops.

I borrow some of Eldi’s favorite curses as I run to check on him. He’s still breathing; he’s got a pulse. Wiping away the blood on his face the best I can with my sleeves, I find fully healed wounds and scars. That’s what I was afraid of. Eldi eagerly runs toward us and picks up Calvin’s arm to inspect the bites. A smattering of silvery scars mars the skin, the only evidence he’s been bitten.

“Oopsie,” Eldi confirms quietly.

I groan. “Yeah, no fucking kidding.”

“Dumbass,” Eldi says.

“Hey now, he was trying to protect you.”

Eldi sniffs and raises her eyebrows, and I realize she isn’t talking about Calvin.

I nudge Calvin with my foot, hoping he’ll wake up. Of course he doesn’t; I gave him enough tranquilizers to down a rhinoceros. There’s nothing for it; he’s out cold. We’ll have to carry him back. Eldi retrieves my pack from the tree, and I perform some frankly impressive DIY maneuvers with some bandages and spare paracord to secure the gun (safety on this time) to the back of my pack.

“Good thing you weren’t expecting a ride. Help me?” I plead with Eldi.

Eldi sighs and picks up Calvin’s feet while I slide my arms under his shoulders to make the trek home to the Winnebago. Just another night covered in blood and sweat in the forest, nothing to see here. He’s going to be pissed when he wakes up.

9

A Cage in the Basement

Down in Winnie’s basement, I lock Calvin in the same cell where I tried to keep the vacuums. It’s made of clear, bulletproof material with ventilation, a little hatch, and a lock that only Eldi and I hold the combination to. And until I know how the lycanthropy virus will manifest in him, it’s the safest option for everyone.

Plus, I can’t say I’m eager to face him. I did deliberately shoot him and accidentally overdose him on tranquilizers, after all. My only defense is that I didn’t mean to shoot him the first two times. And I kind of forgot about the tranquilizing effect, if I’m being honest. I panicked and could only think about trying to get the vaccine into him, hoping it would counteract the bite. It was a string of stupid and careless mistakes on my part.

He must have followed us into the forest, and I wait for my anger to arrive. He shouldn’t have pried into my business. But I can’t muster anger at anyone but myself. I drag in an old armchair and curl up in it to wait, hoping it’s the ordinary type and not haunted or cursed. Eldi waits with me, nestled in my arms. I don’t rest; I’m too on edge.

A man in a cage. Me, justifying his captivity. What kind of monster does this make me? I’ve been trying to believe I’m a good person, but it’s increasingly hard to rationalize. If I try and still fail, does it redeem me at all? Or am I innately doomed to do bad things? Is my nature to end up the villain? I’m disgusted with myself, pretending I have no choice even as I lock his cell. The feeling of my past racing to catch me and converge with my present is overwhelming. Everything is falling apart, and I don’t know what to do.

It’s hours later when Calvin finally stirs. Plenty of time for me to have come up with a game plan, yet I still don’t know where to begin. Guess I’m winging this thing. I belatedly consider what a bad look this is for me as he stirs groggily and eyes his surroundings, taking in his prison and my presence as jailer curled in my cushy chair. Calvin stumbles to his feet, snarling as his gaze lands on me.

“What the fuck, Reggie?” he yelps, frantically pushing at the walls, looking for a way out.

“That’s a rather complicated question,” I hedge, shifting in my chair, waking Eldi, who’s instantly alert.

“You shot me!” he says accusingly.