A lunatic moon

Chapter 6 - The Fight & Arrested!

Danny stopped at the edge of the field. The ugly little house sat squat in the gloom. A single low-wattage bulb lit its warped porch. He could detect no movement and hoped that its single occupant was fast asleep at this hour. Does evil ever truly sleep? He wondered to himself.

Setting off in a low run, he angled towards the far corner of the lot. The long grass swished around his legs as he went. He recalled from memory whereabouts the object he was looking for should have landed and stopped short. He got down on his hands and knees and started crawling, parting the weeds ahead of him as he went. His senses were heightened and he picked up on a new odour that was out of place with the spicy smell of meadow flowers and wild herbs. It was a low, sickly stink he associated with decay. It came to him intermittently in the night air, getting stronger as he grew closer. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew deep down that it wasn't going to be pretty. He began to brace himself, realizing that this low to the ground he'd be just inches from it. Just then he got the strongest whiff yet and carefully pushed the grass aside. He was face to face with the white knob of an arm bone. It protruded from muscle old and shriveled, clad in a scrap of a baby blue shirt sleeve. It appeared an animal had been chewing on it. He didn't have to see the rest of the arm and the painted fingernails to know it belonged to Julie Gifford. Just like he knew that if he flipped it over, that's where the maggots would be hiding from the cool night air. He was stunned and sat up from a crawl to his knees. He covered his nose and mouth with one hand against the smell. So this is what the old man Jean had thrown from his porch? He looked towards the house amazed again at the distance. What a throw. This guy had some superhuman strength or something. His heart beat madly in his chest. Sure finding the arm had come as a horrible shock, but it was the fact that he'd been right all along about everything, was what had him really panicked. He was in this fucker's yard! At night! For all I know he could be stalking me at this very second.

Jean stood in the lee of his house where it was darkest. Just behind the pile of junk, only his head stood higher than the trash, he watched. He watched with glee as the boy crept from out of the woods to the edge of the field. He looked in his direction but didn't see him. He then made a dash through the weeds towards the far corner of the property and dropping down disappeared from view. Jean could still see him in his mind though and also knew where he was going.

"He's looking for that blasted arm!" Jean whispered to himself and began to follow.

He was silent in his approach and swift. He'd had many years of experience stalking his prey and a scared little boy lost in the night was no match for his skills. Whereas Danny's pants had made a soft, swish! swish! swish! sound through the weeds in the field, Jean's approach was a low hiss. Like a snake getting ready to strike, seemingly floating just above the ground.

Danny inched backwards, away from the arm and its smell of putrescence. He quickly glanced around and saw no one, but couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. He told himself to relax and focused instead on the calm of the night. He closed his eyes and drew deep breaths, exhaling through his nose. It's what his mother did sometimes when she was frustrated with his twin brothers or something he'd done. He felt his racing heart begin to slow and a feeling of calm spread through his body. He opened his eyes and looked at the tops of the weeds swaying in the gentle night breeze. He drew power from them. Sitting on his haunches, he placed his palms flat to the ground, feeling its coolness, its solidity. The ground nourishing the weeds he was drawing power from. All the different kinds of wildflowers and herbs with their coloured blossoms, their precious grains of pollen and their medicinal properties. The ground under his palms that was sustaining them, feeding them, feeding him with its gentle yet undeniable power. He could feel the connection, the symbiosis, the life force. He could hear the earthworms coming to the surface to join him. Pushing through the dirt and bursting to the surface. He felt them oozing between his fingers now. Beetles and spiders ran across the backs of his hands. 'This is what the boar meant!' he thought to himself. 'I can draw power from my surroundings, with love! I'm going to need this power...' and the thought was viciously interrupted as he was wrenched from the ground by a cruel and incredibly strong hand clamping on the back of his neck and hurling him through the air. He somersaulted once and landed flat on his back, the force slamming the air from his lungs. He grabbed at his chest, writhing in the grass, trying to draw a breath, but couldn't. He was being attacked by something. What the fuck was this? He squirmed, lights flashed in front of his eyes and he forced himself to relax. To breathe. To relax. To see. To relax, Danny and breathe dammit! He gulped at the air and slowly but surely the paralysis faded allowing him to pull air into his lungs again. Just in time to see Jean, Mr. Ugly and Old himself standing over him, reaching for him.

"What the f..." Danny started and then Jean had him by the throat and with one hand lifted him off the ground and held him high in the air. Danny's feet swung uselessly, brushing the tippy tops of the weeds. Danny clutched at the wrist that was choking him. Trying to pry the old man's fingers loose from his throat was like trying to bend cast iron with your bare hands. Strangely though he was still able to breathe. It came in harsh whistles through his constricted windpipe, but that was all the old man could manage. Any other person's airways would have been crushed like a plastic straw, but Danny was different. For a second a vision of the boar bloomed within his mind, 'You're different.' It said. He clamped his hands on the old man's wrists as he shook him now. Shook him like a rag doll. Roughly in violent, frustrated fury, back and forth, up and down he shook Danny like a wet rag, trying to snap his neck. To Danny it just felt like rapid uncontrolled movements, there was no pain and he could still breathe okay. Those were the important things. He held on to Jean's wrist for stability, because there was no way he could loose himself from that grip and all that shaking made it impossible for him to focus. Then Jean made a critical mistake. In his anger, he did the one thing he always reverted to in frustration. He threw Danny. This time Danny was ready for it and when he hit the ground he rolled, stopped himself and sprang to his feet in a crouch. He did a quick survey of himself and felt okay. He was breathing hard and his heart was pounding, but he was aware now. He knew what, who was attacking him and had survived this far without injury. His mind raced frantically. Fight, or flight? He asked himself. Fight, THEN flight! He decided and felt his own anger building. He gathered it together like a tangible force, directing it at his foe. 'For Mike!' He thought. 'For Julie Gifford! Poor Julie!' He thought. 'For lying to the police and playing your little old man game.' He thought. 'And for my own preservation!' He thought and waited. Circling Jean, looking for the right moment. He wasn't a fighter, he knew very little about it, but he thought, maybe, just maybe he'd get lucky.

Jean stood crouched, slowly turning as Danny circled him. He was uneasy and surprised. Very, very surprised. 'How can this little boy be unhurt? I should have been able to break him with one hand!' Jean screamed in his head. 'His neck should be broken. His throat should be crushed. From the first throw, he should still be lying on the ground in a broken jumble of bones and internal injuries. Yet he's upright and breathing and what's more he's challenging me to fight? Fine.' Jean thought. 'That's just fine. Let him make the first move.'

In a field, on a dark overcast night, a boy and an old man face each other in battle. The man is older than the boy by centuries and trained as a warrior and a hunter. The boy, although young in age with no fighting skills, has an advantage. His weapon is an ability, far older than the both of them and although he does not know how to use it, the possession of it alone may just save his life tonight. Maybe, just maybe. If he is lucky.

Jean stood perfectly still, only his eyes moved. Tracking the boy. He pivoted slowly waiting. Let him make the first move.

Danny circled waiting. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard he thought to himself, he just might have a heart attack right here, right now and drop dead in this field. He wanted the old man to make the first move, but it didn't appear he was going to. At that moment Danny's fear and fury combined as one and he rushed the old man. It was a bad move and he realized it right away. He'd meant to tackle Jean and beat him into submission, but the old guy was fast and dodging Danny with his left hand hit him in the back of the neck so hard he saw stars. The blow drove him into the ground and the next thing he knew he was face down in the weeds. Jean wasted no time and pounced on his back. Straddling Danny he grabbed him by the hair and started pounding his face into the ground. With each blow Danny saw stars and tasted grass. Bam! Bam! Bam! Over and over again he drove Danny's face into the ground, parting the grass and making a face-shaped divot in the dirt. Now Danny could taste blood too flowing from his nose. Jean took him by the ears now and stuffed his face into the dirt, suffocating him. Dirt filled his nose and mouth and he was at a total loss as to how to get out of this. He was pinned and although Jean was small in stature, he seemed to weigh hundreds of pounds. Jean sat on his back and laughed as he ground the boy's face into the dirt, his little hands flailing and fluttering like a couple of trapped sparrows. Jean watched in growing satisfaction as Danny's hands slowed, waving and slapping fruitlessly. Then clutching weakly at the grass, the little boy's hands stopped moving and started to make spastic little jerking movements. Jean smiled a deathly rictus grin, his teeth had become fangs and he couldn't stop himself from snapping his mouth open and closed, biting at the air. Eventually, Danny stopped moving and lay still even then Jean rode his back, with his hands clamped on Danny's ears pushing his head down and twisting it from side to side.

Danny stopped struggling, conserving his energy by playing dead. His thoughts drifted away and he let them. Images appeared and faded like a slide projector. he saw himself with his brothers at the pond. He saw tall dark trees old and powerful. He saw fields full of flowers and bees, Bobolinks flew in and out of the tall grass calling and chasing each other. He saw himself walking, he felt like he was hovering over his head watching while he walked down a narrow deer trail and into the clearing, the view changed and the skeletal boars head rose into view, like a bony moon complete with tusks. It spoke to him in Mike's voice.

You can draw the power...with love...draw from the very earth...you are different now...

And Danny thought disjointedly, "Yessss...I should be dead shouldn't I? Am I dead? I don't want to die yet Mike. Can you help me?" He felt no pain. He felt Jean's hands on either side of his head, felt his immense weight on his back, but he also felt strangely still. Like how you might feel just before death. That's when he noticed, not without concern, that he wasn't breathing anymore. After all, how could he with his nose and mouth packed with dirt? If he wasn't breathing then he must be dead right? Maybe not though. He still felt strength coiled deep within, unused energy like a transformer packed with thousands of volts of potential energy. Maybe I can still get out of this he thought. And the boar's skull looked as if it were smiling.

...draw it from the air around you...from life itself...life wins over death...you have to be faster...stronger...he wants to kill you...

That's exactly what Jean thought he'd done. He hadn't much time to process what the boy was all about. He'd had some kind of power to him, however vague, but now he's dead. Just another dead kid, Jean thought cheerfully. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to see here, move along folks and he chuckled to himself.

And Danny heard it.

...like clotted bloody bone in a blender...

Danny said goodbye to the Mike-boar and the Mike-boar wished him well.

Danny laying perfectly still focused on the ground below him. His senses returned in a sudden flood of smell, taste and sound. He couldn't see a damn thing with his face in the dirt, but that didn't matter. He could taste the dirt, and it tasted good! He could smell the soil and decaying plant matter, and it smelled good! He could hear the fresh night air behind Jean's raspy breathing, and THAT sounded good! It was the sound of life, he could sense it, he welcomed it, he called on it. He called on the life force to feed him, to power him, to juice his transformer to the bursting point. He wanted it to swell with power, crackling and surging with potential energy. He called on his worm friends, the critters in the dirt beneath his face. And they came, in the hundreds. He could hear the earth parting making way. It made a grinding sound as they came, ripping through the roots and coming to the surface. He felt them again crawling on his hands tickling his bare skin on the sides of his neck. If he'd been able to see and if Jean had looked towards the woods, they would have seen animals gathering in the dark. Dark eyes flashing, warm breath clouding. Deer and coyotes standing beside one another, skunks and raccoons waddling to the edge of the battleground. Owls of the night swooping and gathering in the trees watching...waiting...but Jean just sat, straddling Danny's back, chuckling madly. He didn't see, didn't know. Until Danny's hands came to life once more and reaching up and behind his head, he grabbed onto Jean's wrists and squeezed with all his might. Shocked, Jean tried desperately to remove his hands, but the boy's strength was immense. Jean was not just shocked, he was horrified and an odd feeling was stealing over him. Something he hadn't felt in years, not this strongly. It was pure, unadulterated fear and he didn't like it. Not one bit. It was as foreign to him as the feeling of joy. He began to think he might be in trouble. Danny squeezed and Jean heard his bones creaking with the force of Danny's grip. Danny pulled Jean's hands from his head and twisted the old man's wrists. Danny could feel the power of the earth flowing through him and hundreds of worms and insects swarmed over the both of them. They weren't biting or stinging, just swarming. Jean watched in amazement as worms wriggled up his arms, falling off then rejoining the masses climbing up and onto his shoulders. Danny gave Jean's wrists a final twist and they snapped like old dead branches. He bucked the old guy up off his back and flung him headfirst into the night. He flew a good thirty feet and landed badly on his neck, wrenching it. He felt pain for the first time in hundreds of years. It was bad. It was sickening and blinding at the same time. He lay for a moment gasping in the grass and then Danny was on him punching. Hard. Each blow brought a bright flash of light. He could hear the boy laughing, no it wasn't laughter, he was growling. Jean struggled under him and looked up at Danny, whose eyes were lit with a strange golden light. Jean was powerless, when he brought his hands up to ward off the blows raining down on him, his hands flopped uselessly at the wrists. They were broken and he heard the bones grinding, sending shockwaves of pain into his skull. Intermittent flashes of light between waves of pain and every punch landed brought more flashes. He fought to see, squirming under the boy who now seemed much heavier than he should be. As he once felt to Danny. How is this? Jean thought wildly. How can he have so much power? How can he be so strong? He is cursed, I can see that but this is different and as he watched, Danny's face began to change. His teeth grew into points, white and flashing and razor sharp. If he bites me, I'm in trouble. Panicky, he squirmed trying to get out from under this manic assault, but Danny just growled. Then grabbing his head he started pounding it into the ground.

"How do you like that!" Danny yelled. "Feels good huh?"

Danny sat atop Jean Duhamel and drove his head into the earth, again and again. He was in a rage and everything was tinged with red. He felt the power surging through his arms. It felt good. It felt good to be king. He felt as if he could shred this guy twisting under him. Shred him with little effort, into a million pieces and maybe he would, but for now, he was going to take a pounding. Danny threw back his head to laugh, but instead of laughing though and without thinking he howled instead. It was loud and ripped through the night, sounding of pain and anger, but something else too. Triumph, the howl sounded of triumph and Jean feared for his life at that very instant, but the boy was content instead to just keep pounding his head into the dirt.

Officers Chris and Lucy, partners for three and a half years now drove through the quiet country night. They were both a little confused as to why they were making this call, but whatever, it's what Sergeant Bell wanted. He'd asked them to drive out to this remote address and do a little drive by. He didn't want them doing a 'knock and talk', just wanted them to go up the driveway, turn around, maybe idle for a few minutes, make their presence known and then leave.

"That's it?" Lucy asked Chris as she sipped her coffee, hot and fresh from Robin's donuts. "Just a drive-by? What the hell for? Who is this guy again?" She placed her coffee in the holder and pulled her notepad from her breast pocket and started flipping through the pages.

"Put that thing away and I'll tell ya." Chris said. He lifted his foot from the gas and carefully negotiated a tight turn in the road. The cruiser's headlights lit up a grassy embankment and he swerved to the right where the road turned once more like a chicane in a racecourse.

"Hold on." He said. He gunned the cruiser out of the turn and Lucy's coffee slopped in her cup spilling out of the hole in the lid.

"Holy shit." she remarked. "Where'd you learn to drive?"

"Whoops. Didn't see it coming. It's dark out here!" He protested. "Maybe if there were street lights... Anyway, Bell wants us to go out to this house. Apparently, there's an old man... It's very near where that Gifford girl was murdered. He says he had a funny feeling about the old man, he didn't say what, but something 'not quite right', is what he said. So we drive out, let him see us in the driveway and maybe put the fear of god in him. I mean if there's nothing else going on that is."

"And that's supposed to accomplish..?" Lucy asked, lifting her dripping cup out of the holder. "Argh now my hands are gonna be all sticky."

"It's s'posed to accomplish just what I said Luce. Put the fear of god in him, maybe. Cliff wants to go out again tomorrow on his shift and ask the guy a few more questions, maybe bring him in for a proper interview."

"Wow." Lucy said. "So Cliff's gotta real hard-on for this guy huh? Why is that?"

"Bell said that when he and Sam went out to question the guy, he was kinda flaky around the edges. Got real nervous as soon as Bell brought up the Gifford girl. He said the old guy was talking about having his grandkids out there on Christmas, but Sam laughed and said no fuckin' way that guy's got visitors. He said the house smelled so bad they could smell it when they pulled up in their fuckin' car. Said there's a huge junkpile out back full of old washers and broken glass. Said the guy probably doesn't get any visitors with the house like that. And the smell right?"

"Dead body smell?" Lucy asked. Alarmed, but interested now.

"Naw, I don't know. He said the smell was bad, like b.o. and shit. Rotting garbage maybe, but not enough to get a warrant or anything. I dunno, people wanna live like that, what are you gonna do right? Me I like my hot showers and Old Spice."

Officer Chris hit a pothole at full speed and the big cruiser leaped over the crest of a hill, spilling fresh coffee in Lucy's lap.

"Jesus buddy, watch out!"

"Whoopsie." He said grinning.

Lucy mopped at her lap with some crumpled napkins. "How much further?"

"I think we're almost there. Check for house numbers on these mailboxes." Chris slowed and drifted close to the shoulder on the wrong side of the road, where a cluster of three mailboxes sprouted from a grassy patch at the end of a driveway. Lucy looked.

"Nope.' She said. "A little further. It's hard to say how far with the houses so far apart out here."

"What's the number?" Chris asked.

"2040, 2042 and 2044." Lucy replied.

"Okay." Chris said and gunned the cruiser. He had to brake hard as a coyote crossed the road just in front of them. More coffee slopped out of Lucy's cup.

"Goddammit Chris! What the fuck?" She cried.

"It's a fucking coyote Lucy! Sorr-eeee! Get rid of that coffee, it's more trouble than it's worth."

She pitched it out the window. Good thing too, because Officer Chris had to hit the brakes again, for a deer this time.

"Jesus." He said, "What is this some kind of stampede?"

Lucy laughed. "I hardly think two animals qualify as a stampede." She gasped then, as they saw a second coyote race across the road in the headlights. "Wonder where they're going."

"Hopefully not to the same place we are." Chris responded.

They drove through the dark checking mailboxes every now and then, finally they got to a long rise in the road with a group of trees at the top. Here they found the driveway they were looking for and turned in. They bumped along slowly, following the deeply rutted driveway as it twisted for close to a quarter mile in the dark.

"Wow." Lucy said, "This guy is out there! I'm kinda glad we aren't doing a 'knock and talk'. This place gives me the creeps!"

Chris said nothing, but he was thinking the same thing.

As they rode over the last crest in the driveway an ugly squat house appeared in the gloom. What looked to be a forty-watt bulb lit the porch. A dusty old Datsun sat near the house. There seemed to be no sign of life. The old guy was probably sleeping. Lucy thought.

"Lifestyles of the decrepit and dubious.' Chris quipped as he cranked the wheel to turn the car around. The headlights swept the field next to the house and the two cops saw movement.

"What's that?" Lucy asked."Another deer? A coyote? A fucking antelope?"

They could both see something struggling in the grass and it first thought it was maybe the deer they'd seen taken down by the coyotes. Officer Chris put the cruiser in park and they watched.

"That's a person." Chris said.

"No. Is it?" Lucy asked. She looked at Chris then looked at the struggle going on out in the field. She narrowed her eyes and then saw what he'd seen. Fists going up and then raining down on something trapped on the ground.

"Holy shit you're right!" she exclaimed and opened the door to get out. "Let's go!" Excited. Although she'd been on the force for a whole five years, she'd seen very little action. She'd seen her share of aftermaths, but she'd never had the chance to really use her training learned at the academy.

"Careful." Chris cautioned, getting out. He was carrying a very large flashlight and he turned it on. Pointed at the ground for now. "Go slow and announce yourself. Be ready for anything."

He was nervous. His hands trembled slightly so he gripped the big flashlight with both hands. Lucy undid the latch on her gun, keeping her right hand on the butt and they started towards the figure in the field. Whoever it was, they were furious and raining holy hell down on their victim. As they approached through the weeds they could hear him growling and the repeated thuds as they struck their victim.

"Hey! Hold it! Police!" Chris yelled. But it had no effect, the person kept on striking whoever was on under him. They could see now, the guy was actually pounding their head into the ground.

"Whoa hold it right there!" Chris yelled again. "Police!" Lucy screamed and they were running now. It looked as if he was trying to kill his victim if he wasn't dead already. Chris had the flashlight pointed at them and he could see the guy straddling someone trapped under him. For a second the guy on top looked up and his eyes shone like an animal in headlights. Lucy pulled her baton instead, getting ready to dish out some beatings of her own.

Danny was lost in a haze of rage. He had him. He had him now and he was going to finish him. For Mike. For Julie. For everything. Suddenly the world lit up and he thought he could hear voices calling to him. He couldn't stop though. Not now. He was almost done. The world got brighter and brighter, he looked up and saw white light racing towards him but he didn't understand where it was coming from. Hitting. Pounding. Killing. That's all that mattered right now. Then there was a bright flash of pain in his head and someone was tugging at him.

Lucy wound up with her baton like she was going to knock it out of the park. She didn't even think for a second that she might kill this guy with a blow to the head with her baton. She just wanted to stop him from beating his victim to death. She was already swinging when she realized with horror that it was a kid. A fucking kid going apeshit on some old man. The baton connected with the back of his head with a loud 'Thwack!" Bending the baton into a curve. But the kid just kept pounding. She grabbed him by the shoulders instead and tried to pull him off. He swung backward with his arm and sent her flying. She landed on her ass knocking the wind out of her, and making a sound like "Woof!" Then she saw Chris swinging with the flashlight. It hit the kid once, twice and the third time the light went out with a tinkle of broken glass. The kid stopped pounding and just sat there, blood streamed from his forehead, but he was still conscious.

Chris was yelling. "Get down. Get down on the ground! Face down! Right fucking now!"

He was pointing his service revolver at him.

Slowly the kid crawled off the old man and lay down in the grass. Chris grabbed his wrists and had him cuffed in seconds, he was breathing hard. The kid was silent. Creepy as fuck.

"Oh my god." Lucy said getting to her feet, she rushed to the old man. "Are you alright sir?" She was amazed that he was still alive, let alone able to talk after a beating like that.

"He broke my wrists!" The old man cried. "Look!" And to Lucy's horror, he held his arms up to show her. His hands flopped at the wrist and she could hear the bones grinding. Dozens of worms squirmed in the weeds around his head. It was surreal. This whole scene was just too much. It was a horror movie. She turned and managed to stagger a few steps before throwing up in the weeds. She felt faint and sweaty, she wiped vomit from her chin. "Chris?" She asked. "Are you there?" She hoped like mad he was, because she felt like she might fall down, or lose her mind. One or the other. He came to her side in an instant. "Luce! You okay? Stay with me now. Are you alright?" He held her by the shoulders trying to comfort her. She couldn't resist, she turned into him and buried her face in his shoulder sobbing. He was momentarily confused, then he wrapped his arms around her, holding her and saying, "It's alright. It's over. You're ok now." After a minute she composed herself and wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand went to the old man again. She knelt down in the grass. "We're going to get you help sir. Just hang on. Just lay there. I'm going to get you a blanket now." She stood and started for the cruiser, there was a blanket in the trunk and a first aid kit too.

"Call it in okay?" Chris said. "And ask for an ambulance too." He added.

Lucy just nodded, wiping at her mouth, she spat in the grass and coughed."Okay." She said and went to the car. Chris heard her calling it in and he went to check on the boy. He lay with his hands cuffed behind his back, his face bloodied by the blows from the flashlight. Chris felt a momentary surge of pity for the boy. He looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old.

"What the hell were you doing kid? What's your name?" So many questions to ask and so much to do. The kid just lay there staring in some kind of trance. Chris wondered if he might have knocked him senseless with the flashlight.

"Listen kid. Are you alright?" He knelt down and turned him over. As soon as the kid rolled onto his back he came to life. His eyes rolled in their sockets and his mouth started working. He sputtered, took a deep breath and then started yelling.

"He's a monster!" Danny cried. "He's a monster! You gotta be careful he's going to try and kill you too!" He looked at Chris eyes wide with fear. Spittle flew from his mouth. "You hafta cuff him too! He's horrible! He's not human!"

Jean Duhamel lay in the grass sobbing. Just a poor old man with broken wrists and a battered face. Chris sighed with disgust and stood to help Lucy tend to the old man and his injuries. Within a few minutes they could hear the wail of an ambulance echoing in the night as it bombed down country roads coming to the aid of Mr. Duhamel.

When Danny was securely stowed in the back of the cruiser, Lucy tried talking to him. She played 'good cop' and removed the cuffs from behind him, cuffing his hands in front so he could sit comfortably in the back of the squad car. The ambulance took Mr. Duhamel to the hospital with a mournful wail of it's siren and then all was quiet and calm except for the crickets. The animals that had gathered while Danny was pulling the power, had melted back into the woods. Chris got into the cruiser and sat turned, looking at Danny while Lucy managed to get his name age and phone number out of him. Officer Chris was regarding what looked to be a scared and rather timid teenager. He showed no signs of violence or the rage they'd witnessed when first arriving at the scene. He was soft-spoken but unapologetic. When they asked why he'd been beating on a frail old man, they listened, (with a very healthy dose of skepticism), as he'd gotten all excited again, talking about monsters and special powers. He was insistent that Mr. Duhamel was the one responsible for the murder of the Gifford girl. He also seemed to think he'd killed the boy who'd been struck by a train. When they told him they were taking him to the station to meet with his parents, who'd been notified of his arrest, he started crying and Chris felt another surge of pity for him. Lucy calmed him down and Chris started the car, turned it around and drove down the long driveway to Powerline road for the twenty-minute ride to headquarters. Danny was quiet the whole way. He was thinking...In fact, he wasn't even sure what he'd been thinking.

At the police station, Danny sat in a small interview room, at a metal table bolted to the floor. He was handcuffed by his left hand to a rail welded on the top of the table. He had a bandage high on his forehead that covered a small gash and a bit of a knot. A can of Pepsi and a half-eaten slice of pizza in front of him. He sat there by himself for close to an hour, while the police spoke with his parents. Although it wasn't very much time, Danny used it as best he could to sort his priorities. One thing he was certainly thankful for, was that in his rush to sneak out of the house tonight, he'd forgotten Mike's knife at home. It was safe and sound in his World Famous bag with his Walkman, tapes and other stuff. If the cops had found that, they would have been very interested in it indeed, especially since he still hadn't washed the blood off of it yet.

He wondered what he should say when they came back in. He decided that it would be a bad idea to pursue the 'monster defence'. He was having a hard time believing it himself and was sure both the police and his parents would think him crazy. He would have to come up with a good reason for believing that the old man was a murderer. Well maybe not a great reason, just a better reason than he was a werewolf is all. He figured he'd go with a half-truth. He'd admit to asking Duhamel if he'd maybe seen Mike on the night of his death and that the old man had acted suspiciously. So he'd gone back to spy on him, the day Sergeant Bell and Sam had paid their visit, the day when he'd seen him throw an object far out into the field after they'd left. Tonight he'd gone back to see what said object was and then he'd tell them about finding Julie Gifford's arm. Yeah, yeah, that'll cook his goose for sure! Then he can say that's when the old guy had attacked him first and he was just trying to defend himself from a serial killer! It was self-defense! That wasn't far from the truth after all. If he dropped the secret power werewolf stuff he was trying to explain at first, then maybe they'd let him go and they would probably see him as a hero even! He might even get a commendation.

I'll just say I was in shock when I was calling him a werewolf. I mean he is a monster pretty much in their eyes and that one cop, Chris or whoever clocked me pretty good with his flashlight, so of course I'm gonna be spoutin' some gibberish...they might just let mom and dad take me home after this. Oh god, please I just wanna go home, my head hurts and I'm sooo tired.

The metal door to the tiny interview room opened and Officer Lucy came and sat down in front of Danny. She had a sheaf of papers in her hands that she shuffled and sorted accordingly. Danny waited in silence. Eventually, she looked up at Danny, with a hard, appraising gaze. Then she sighed and gave him the bad news.

" Mr. Duhamel is currently in the hospital being treated. He'll be getting casts on both his wrists. you know, the ones that you broke? I can't imagine how difficult that will be for him to feed and bathe himself now. This is a seventy-six-year-old man we're talking about Danny. I cannot imagine what compelled you to attack him."

So Danny told her. He told her about how He'd been suspicious after talking to him the first time. About how he'd gone to talk to him again, but instead, watched him being questioned by Sergeant Bell and how he had lied and put on a big show of innocence. About Finding Julie's arm in the weeds. About how 'Mr. Duhamel' was a murderer and probably a serial killer. He explained that 'Ugly and Old' (although he didn't call him that in front of Officer Lucy), had attacked him first and he had just been defending himself. He finished by saying he figured he'd done them all a big favor, by solving a murder and subduing the killer and he should be allowed to go home with his parents. Right now. He struggled to keep his composure, although his eyes were stinging and his voice kept hitching. He did his damned best to be brave and not burst into tears. He didn't mention anything about the supernatural forces at play.

"Well see, that's going to be a problem Danny. Even though Mr. Duhamel has said he doesn't want to press charges, he understands that you are probably distraught after losing your friend 'Mike', you see Danny, what you did tonight was very serious. It was a crime and even though Mr. Duhamel doesn't want to press charges, we have no choice but to. Officer Chris and I saw what you were doing to him, what you've DONE to him, not to mention you assaulted me, an officer of the law. You are being charged with two counts of assault, one count of aggravated assault causing bodily harm and one count of assault on a peace officer, as well as a charge of resisting arrest. You're sixteen years old, so you are still a minor, you won't have to spend any time in a jail, with adults. You may spend some time in juvenile detention, but after speaking with your parents, we all think it's best if you receive some psychiatric help right now and work through some of your problems. So tonight we'll have you go check in at the psychiatric hospital, until you feel better and then we'll decide what to do about those charges." Officer Lucy straightened the edges of her papers against the metal table and stood up. Danny was stunned into silence. He sat frozen, staring at the handcuff on his wrist.

"I'm going to allow your parents to come in and talk to you for a few minutes, while we finish up some paperwork okay?" As she left the room she patted him on the shoulder. The door closed and he heard the lock engage. A few minutes later his parents came in. his mother was in tears, but his father Art was stoic and gentle.

"It's going to be okay Danny. We love you very much, but we think this is in your best interest if you spend a little time sorting through these problems in a safe environment. They have excellent doctors where you're going and I think you are going to feel a whole lot better in the long run. Your mother and I are just relieved that you didn't do something tonight that you would have regretted for the rest of your life. You could have killed that old man."

"I should have." Danny muttered softly.

"Pardon me?" Art asked. "I didn't catch that."

"Nothing." Danny mumbled and then cried, "I can't believe you're sending me to the loony bin! I'm not crazy! Oh my fucking god! I can't believe this!" And then the tears came. He felt betrayed by his own parents. Abandoned. This was all a mistake! They got it all wrong, they got it backward!

"You have to tell the cops to look for that girl's arm. It's out there in the field! When they find that, then they'll realize. He's a killer! He killed Julie Gifford and he killed Mike! He tore them apart, he's a fucking monster!" He glared at his father, then looked toward his mother, imploringly. She winced not only at his profanity, but his despair. She dropped her gaze and then rushed to hug him crying.

"Oh Danny! No... oh Danny!"

Danny tried to pull away from his mother, but he couldn't because he was handcuffed in place. She wrapped her arms around him sobbing.

"It's only for a little while Danny. Just until you feel better!"

"You have to tell them Dad." He begged. "They have to look in his field and find that arm. It's out there, he tried to hide it, but it's out there in the grass. Promise me you'll tell them!"

"I'll tell them," he said, dry and plain-faced as a board. "But I don't see what good it's going to do for you."

Oh my god, they didn't understand and now they were sending him to a loony bin. With all the other psychos! He couldn't believe it. This was a nightmare. He prayed it was a nightmare. He prayed hard, that any second now, he'd wake up, safe and warm in his bed at home. Instead, a cop opened the door and called his parents out. They both gave him a brief hug and then he was alone again in his nightmare.