Act 5
We are looking at Ravenwolf's front yard. The cabin is a smoking ruin, and we see the flashes of lights from police cars and fire trucks. Various people in uniform, including RCMP's, local constables, and firefighters, are milling about. One of the Mounties, a tall Canadian Aboriginal woman with her long dark hair in a ponytail, walks away from the crowd. As she does so, another Mountie says to her:
"Sorry about your aunt, ma'am."
The woman nods.
"Thank you," she says. "I didn't know her very well."
The woman walks into the woods, takes off her hat, and starts to weep. The weeping is brief, however, over almost as soon as it starts. She takes a cell phone out of her coat pocket and punches in a number.
We are now at a gas station. Ginger is pumping gas while Brigitte and the Hunter walk out of the station with two sacks of fast food groceries. The Hunter's cell phone rings to the tone of Cherokee Nation. He hands his sack to Brigitte and answers the phone.
"Hello?" he says. "Yeah, it's me. Uh huh. Uh huh. How many others? Just the one? Female? No, I'm not disappointed in her for Chrissakes! Yeah, keep me posted. Yeah, I'm sorry too. You be careful with this. Did she warn you about the people involved in this? What kind of influence they have? Good. Watch your back. Goodbye."
During the conversation. Ginger finishes pumping gas and comes up and joins them.
"I…I didn't hear that, B," Ginger says. "Those damn overhead fluorescent lights."
"She's gone," Brigitte says. "Apparently she took Danielle with her."
Ginger's head goes down for a second. The expression on Ginger's face when it comes up again is one of sheer rage.
"We should have gone back for her, B," she says.
"I know, Ginger," Brigitte says. "But we're doing what she wanted us to do."
"Rowlands will be on his way," the Hunter says. "We need to get going."
"Fine," Ginger says. "Let's fucking go then."
As the Hunter takes his sack back from Brigitte, Ginger slaps it out of his hands onto the parking lot.
"That was uncalled for," the Hunter says.
"I'm not fucking hungry," Ginger says.
"I'm really sorry about your grandmother," Brigitte says to the Hunter, gently touching his upper arm with her hand. "And I'm sorry my sister's treating you like that. She doesn't understand. To be honest, I don't either. But I know you were doing what she wanted you to do, what you told her you'd do. You and she understood, and that's what's important."
The Hunter shakes his head as he finishes picking up the scattered items and putting them into the sack.
"No," he says. "I just pretended I understood."
He starts towards the Escape.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," he says.
We are now in the interior of a small motel room. Ginger is sitting on the bed, staring into space, wearing a t-shirt and panties. We hear a toilet flush and Brigitte, also wearing a t-shirt and panties, emerges from the bathroom. She takes a hairbrush out of a convenience store sack and starts to brush her hair.
"I don't fucking get this, B," Ginger says.
"You having second thoughts, Ginger?" Brigitte asks.
"About us running off to the woods and turning into wolves together?" Ginger asks back. "No. I'm completely on board with that. It's Ravenwolf. Why did she stay back? She wanted to stay back. She wanted to sacrifice herself. For us! Why?"
"It wasn't for us, Ginger," Brigitte says. "It was about the curse."
"But what the fuck is the curse, B?" Ginger asks. "I thought I knew, but now I'm not sure anymore."
"It's what you thought it was, Ginger," Brigitte says. "People turning into monsters and killing other people, and infecting other people so that they turn into monsters."
"But she said it wasn't a curse once we accepted it," Ginger says.
"Not to us, maybe, because we've decided we want to be wolves," Brigitte says. "It's our way out of monsterhood. Our way to be free. But most infected people are not OK with turning into wolves. Rowlands isn't. The rest of the pack isn't. They don't accept it, so to them it's a curse. The only way to stop the curse is for us to go into the forest and not bite humans."
"There's a problem with that scenario though, B," Ginger says. "Rowlands and at least two other werewolves are still out there, capable of spreading the infection."
"Yes," Brigitte says. "Fortunately, they're following us. When they catch up to us, we'll give them a choice. They follow us into the woods, become with us, or we kill them."
"Rowlands won't follow us," Ginger says. "James won't either. Claude might, but I doubt it."
"I know," Brigitte says. "That's why we're going to kill them."
Ginger stares at Brigitte, obviously taken aback by her matter of fact tone.
"Damn, B," Ginger says. "That was cold blooded. Kinda optimistic too."
Brigitte puts the hairbrush down on the dresser and gets into bed next to Ginger.
"Just the hard cold facts, Ginger," Brigitte says. "Ravenwolf wanted to spare us from having to face them. She tried to kill them for us. She failed. So it's on us now and we can't fail. Rowlands won't ever give up on trying to capture us and bring us back, or failing that, to kill us. So in order for us to go into the woods and become, we are first going to have to put an end to him. And when we go into the woods, there can't be anyone else left to spread the curse."
"Farewell to the pack, then," Ginger says.
Brigitte takes Ginger's hand.
"We'll form our own pack, Ginger," she says. "You and I will make our own real, honest to God, wolf pack."
We watch Brigitte in bed, tossing and turning. We hear the sounds of other people in their rooms in the motel. We hear beds creaking under people having sex, moans and "oh baby's", people going to the bathroom, TV's playing late night sports talk shows, infomercials, and pornography, and we hear some man asking a woman "how much and did she take checks" and her derisive laugh in response.
Finally, Brigitte takes the pillow and puts it over her head.
"Something wrong?" asks Ginger sleepily.
"Can't you hear it, all around us?" Brigitte says. "Fucking 'no-tell motel' my ass!"
Brigitte gets out of bed and starts to slip on her jeans and sweat shirt.
"What are you doing now?" Ginger asks.
"Going out for a walk," Brigitte says.
"Bad idea, B," Ginger says. "We gotta keep a low profile. Rowlands and the others may be watching us downwind."
"I can't stand it in here," Brigitte says. "I wasn't going to go anywhere off grounds."
"Rowlands will have tranq guns with infrared scopes on them, not that he'd even need the infrared," Ginger says. "All three of them would be capable of making the shot. And if they get one of us, they get both of us."
"Together forever," Brigitte mutters.
"Yeah," Ginger says. "That attitude can kinda be a liability when one of us is a hostage."
Brigitte puts her forehead on the door.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Ginger," Brigitte says. "This place is just driving me fucking nuts."
"That's because you haven't had to sleep out of the compound more than what, two or three times when we were out on missions?" Ginger says. "Rowlands mostly sent you out on day trips. A place like this has a lot more activity than you are used to, particularly with wolf hearing."
Brigitte turns and looks at Ginger.
"That may be part of it, but that's not all of it," Brigitte says.
"Oh, do tell, B," Ginger says, sitting up in her bed and pulling the covers over her drawn up legs.
"I think…I think it's hearing all of this human activity around us and…" Brigitte's voice trails off.
"And you're gonna die a virgin?" Ginger finishes.
"What?" Brigitte says.
"I just mean, you're starting to realize that you are really getting ready to say goodbye to your humanity, and it's starting to hit you that there's a lot of things that you're not going to get to do," Ginger says. "It may not be dying, exactly, but it's close."
"Are you thinking about that too?" Brigitte asks.
"Yeah, some," Ginger says. "But at least I'm not a virgin."
"It's not just sex, Ginger," Brigitte says. "It's other things, even some things that I have done before that I won't get to do again. Like decorating the Christmas tree."
"Decorating the Christmas tree?" Ginger says, almost sputtering. "You would bitch and moan and carry on about what a hollow farce it was every time Pamela tried to get us to decorate the tree."
"So would you," Brigitte says.
"Well, yeah, it's lame…" Ginger's voice trails off. "But you really didn't think it was lame, did you?"
"I thought I was supposed to think it was lame," Brigitte says. "And so I tried to think it was lame."
"Because I did…?" Ginger says. "But you were always so cynical about stuff."
"Well, yeah, "Brigitte says. "I was always an outcast, particularly when they bumped me up a grade. And you made being an outcast look so cool, so I tried to embrace it. I mean, there was some hero worship involved."
"Of me?" Ginger asks.
"Yeah, of you," Brigitte asks. "Who else was there?"
"Wow," Ginger says. "Cool."
Then Ginger's face turns serious.
"Then I get bitten by a werewolf and go through delayed puberty at the same time," Ginger says. "That's a sure fire formula for turning into a Royal Bitch. Worse, I was maybe even becoming popular for a while there in a slutty, homicidal sort of way. No more being outcasts together.
"I really betrayed you, didn't I? I'm so sorry, Brigitte."
"I know, Ginger," Brigitte says.
"You don't know how sorry," Ginger says.
"I don't need to know how sorry, Ginger," Brigitte says. "Change the fucking subject."
"So you're gonna miss the Christmas trees huh?" Ginger says.
"That and the sex," Brigitte says. "What do you think of the Hunter?"
"Oh he definitely looks doable," Ginger says. "But c'mon, B, hot or not he's nothing but human. Claude was every bit as hot as he is and I could have kept Danielle off your back if you wanted me to. Hell, I would have let you take a tumble with James if you asked. Before he decided he hated you anyway."
Brigitte turns and stands with her back to the door and leans against it.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "James was a bully and an asshole, and something about Claude has always given me the creeps."
"Claude?" Ginger says. "Claude liked you well enough, and outside of the missions, he's a sweetheart."
"No," says Brigitte. "No, he's not. There's something really off about him, Ginger. There's a reason why Danielle kept trying with James, even with you around, and even when he showed almost as much contempt for her as he did for me."
Claude is shaving in front of a bathroom mirror, with a towel wrapped around his waist. The wetness of his hair and the misted edges of the mirror testify to his recent shower.
"I really appreciate you spending some time with me," Claude says over his shoulder. "It's tragic when you lose the love of your life. But you, you showed me that there's life after Danielle."
Claude finishes shaving and rinses his face off, then dries it off with a hand towel.
"Sorry to have to run," Claude says, tossing the towel on the counter. "But my boss has me on a schedule. You know how it is."
Claude comes out into a surprisingly elaborate motel room. On the bed is the naked body of a woman, her beautiful face unmarked, her golden hair arranged cloud like around her head. Her throat, however, has been torn out, and her body has been eviscerated. Claude walks over to the dresser and starts to pull out clothes, whistling as he does so.
Our view switches to the parking lot outside the motel room. James and Rowlands are standing outside, their breaths misting in the night air. Rowlands looks entirely human once more.
"You know, you really shouldn't indulge him in this shit," James says.
"I know," Rowlands says as Claude opens the door and comes out, fully clothed, his hair still damp. "But he's suffered a major loss, we all have."
James snorts.
"I didn't," James says.
Rowlands continues as if he didn't hear James.
"I think Claude just needed a little more assistance in moving on," he says. "And I couldn't deny him that. Danielle could meet his needs on a regular basis. It's going to be quite awhile before we find someone else who can, or will."
"Maybe, if she doesn't get her stupid ass killed, 'B' could be trained to do it," James says as he watches Claude put on his watch.
James doesn't see the angry expression that briefly crosses Rowlands' face.
Three black vans identical to the one the pack uses pull into the parking lot, each disgorging several men dressed in black. One of the men, a short man with dark skin and curly black hair, approaches Rowlands and wordlessly waits for instruction.
"Clean up in aisle nine," he says, jerking his head to the motel room door. Our view pans over to the number 9 on the door.
"We shouldn't be doing this," Ginger says, as she looks nervously over her shoulder. They appear to be in the men's restroom in a gas station.
"I know," Brigitte says. "I know this is crazy. He's probably just going to turn me down anyway, walking creepy looking plague girl that I am."
Brigitte is putting coins into a condom machine.
"This one?" she asks Ginger.
"Yeah," Ginger says. "You'll probably be safest with the double thick ribbed ones. I can't believe that after turning up your nose at your packmates, you finally decide that the right guy to take your virginity is a contract killer who worked for a sexual slave trader."
"Yeah," Brigitte says. "That is pretty fucking weird, huh? Although there was one other guy, you know."
Ginger's face turns serious.
"Yeah, I know." Ginger says. "I'm really sorry, B."
"Ginger, I was a flat chested 15 year old dweeb who hadn't even had a period yet," Brigitte says. "Sam was way out of my league. Not that I really wanted to, not then anyway."
There is a loud knocking at the door. A deep voice yells:
"Get a move on, dammit! You've been in there for 15 minutes!"
Our view switches to outside the restroom, which is also outdoors. A short, pudgy man wearing a winter vest over a black checked shirt and a Toronto Blue Jays cap is pounding on the door again while doing a little potty dance.
The restroom door opens, and Ginger briefly stops halfway through the door and leans against the door frame.
"OK," she says in a sultry voice. "We're done."
She then walks out the door. Brigitte follows with her head down, trying to stifle a laugh, and putting the condom in her pocket.
The man turns and watches them go, eyes very wide. Then he turns suddenly and starts to shake his leg.
"Aw, shit!" he says.
Ginger and Brigitte cross the street, both snorting back laughs with little success.
"Ginger," Brigitte says. "You are so bad."
Ginger pulls up short.
"Uh oh," she says. "Busted."
The Hunter is standing in the doorway of his motel room. His expression is not pleased.
"What the hell are you two thinking?" he says. "You two could have been seen. You could have been taken."
"I don't think the guy who saw us is going to be talking about it," Ginger says.
"You didn't…" the Hunter says.
"Didn't what?" Ginger says. "Oh! Hell no! I just don't think he's ever gonna want to talk about it."
"Well that," Brigitte says. "Or he'll never stop talking about it."
The Fitzgerald sisters both snort and start to laugh. Ginger is able to force her face into a mask of seriousness first.
"We're sorry," she says to the Hunter. "We know we were stupid, but we just had to get out there for a little bit. We just went across the street."
The Hunter shakes his head and reaches into the room and picks up a small traveling case.
"We need to get moving again," the Hunter says. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah," Ginger says. "We just got the clothes on our back, and we've been using the motel's shampoo. We're good."
"Then let's go," the Hunter says. Ginger and Brigitte follow him, still trying to stifle further laughs. Ginger nudges Brigitte with her shoulder and jerks her chin in the Hunter's direction. Brigitte's eyes go wide as she shakes her head and mouths NO.
"The next time you two decide to go on a little field trip," the Hunter says. "I would like you to think about my grandmother's sacrifice so that you two could get away. She's going to look pretty stupid if you two get captured by Rowlands because you got the late night munchies."
Ginger's and Brigitte's expressions turn serious until the Hunter utters the word "munchies". Then they both snort in their efforts to stifle laughter again.
The Hunter briefly looks skyward and says:
"Grandmother," he says softly. "You've stuck me with crazy women."
Rowlands is sitting behind the wheel of the black van. James, sitting in the passenger seat, leans forward to look past him.
"So that's the Fitzgerald household," James says. "That's the dysfunctional palace that gave us the weirdness that is the Fitzgerald sisters. It's smaller than I thought it would be."
"So, what now?" Claude says. "Do we go in?"
"Why?" asks James. "It's not like either one of them care enough about their parents to come save them if we hold them hostage. Neither one of them even use the words 'Mom' and 'Dad', they call them Pamela and Henry."
Rowlands sighs.
"So says the man who spent his childhood as a violent young thug bouncing from foster home to foster home," he says. "The bonds of family, Mr. Munroe, run deeper than the likes of you would ever suppose. The strong connection between the sisters betrays the strength of their family bonds. Pamela and Henry Fitzgerald are more important to them than they let on.
"And it's past time for a family reunion, don't you think?"
Rowlands gets out of the van.
"Say here," he says. He closes the van door and walks up the pathway to the Fitzgerald's front porch and rings the doorbell.
On the door of the Fitzgerald home is a black wreath. When the door opens, it is Pamela Fitzgerald in a black sweatshirt, blue jeans, and a huge black bow on her head.
"Yes?" she says. "May I help you?"
"Yes," says Rowlands. "I am Colonel Rowlands of the SIS. Are you Mrs. Pamela Fitzgerald?"
"Yes," says Pamela.
"I see you are in mourning," Rowlands says.
"Yes," Pamela says. "One of my daughters was killed by a bear in our own home, the other was murdered."
Rowlands nods, then turns and motions to the black van. As we hear the doors open and close, we see Henry Fitzgerald come up behind his wife.
"I have very good news for you, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald," he says. "Your daughters are actually both alive. They have been working under me in the SIS."
Rowlands takes out a gun with a silencer and points it at Pamela's stomach. Pamela and Henry both look dumbfounded.
"Unfortunately, I also have some very bad news," Rowlands says. "Your daughters are now both deserters, and I have reason to believe they will at least come by here. When they do, I want them to see that you have guests."
The sky is overcast as the red Escape passes the Welcome to Bailey Downs sign.
Inside the Escape, Brigitte is asleep in the passenger seat. In the back seat, Ginger looks around in confusion.
"Excuse me," she says. "But I thought we were going around Bailey Downs."
"You need to see your family home," the Hunter says.
"What?" Ginger says. "No, we don't need to be doing that. Henry and Pamela think we're dead, and it will be a huge production from Pamela if she sees B and me. She's a little crazy, you know."
"So that's where you get it from," the Hunter says under his breath.
"What?" Ginger says.
"You have wolf ears, you heard me," says the Hunter.
"You think we're crazy," Ginger says.
"I think you're crazy," the Hunter says. "So am I, for that matter. Brigitte, on the other hand, may be the sanest person I've ever met.
Ginger nods.
"That's fair," she says. "I really meant what I said about Pamela, though. She was going to kill Henry, burn the house down, and run away with us when she discovered Trina's body buried in the storage shed. I may not be the biggest fan of Henry or Pamela, but I'm really worried about what she would do if we came back for a visit and then tried to leave again."
"I didn't mean see as in face to face see," the Hunter says. "I meant we drive by for one last look, so that you can say goodbye in your hearts."
"I don't need to do that," Ginger says.
Brigitte stirs awake.
"I do," she says. "We can just go by for a second."
Ginger crosses her arms.
"Well, I won't be responsible for the shit fest if Pamela sees us through the window during our drive by," she says.
"It's the next right," Brigitte says to the Hunter.
"I know," says the Hunter. "I can not only read maps, I can memorize them. It takes me about 5 minutes."
"Really?" says Brigitte, turning to look at the Hunter. "That must be a useful skill in your line of work."
"Not really now, but it came in handy in the army," the Hunter says. "My CO would simply hand me a map, have me memorize it, then burn it."
Brigitte turns and puts her arm up on the back of the chair. She moves in such a way as to indicate that she has put most of her left leg on the seat, so that she is directing her entire attention to the Hunter. Ginger looks between the two, then looks at Brigitte and makes an exaggerated, lecherous, and comical wink. Brigitte either doesn't notice, or intentionally ignores, the antics of her older sibling.
"So did you go on missions with the army?" Brigitte asks.
"No, I missed the first Gulf War, and we were at peace when I was in the service," he replies. "But we ran scenarios all the time."
"I see," Brigitte says. "Did you…"
As Brigitte is speaking, Ginger suddenly sits up, her eyes widening. The Hunter's eyes narrow. Ginger interrupts Brigitte's question.
"OK, B," she says. "Time to stop flirting with the nice contract killer."
The Hunter's narrowed eyes go wide and he starts to turn towards Ginger. Brigitte turns to glare at Ginger as well. Ginger shakes her head at both and points.
"Eyes front, guys," Ginger says.
Both turn to look forward. Brigitte's expression turns to one of horrified surprise.
"Son of a bitch," Brigitte whispers. "I can't believe they came here."
"I assume that's…?" the Hunter says.
"Yeah," Ginger says as our view shifts to looking out the front windshield. We see the Fitzgerald house, and the black van parked on the street in front of it. "That's our house, and that's the pack's van parked in front of it."
The Hunter drives past the house and the van without slowing down. He continues down another four blocks before turning left and pulling over to the side.
"Stay here," the Hunter says. "I'll go and see if I can scout out the situation."
"What are you, crazy?" Ginger says. "No wait, you just said that you were. Are you suicidal crazy? Those are werewolves in there. You won't be able to sneak up on them."
"He snuck up on us, Ginger," Brigitte says.
"Oh yeah," Ginger says. "Well, don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed. I don't want us to be sitting in here like dorks when Rowlands walks up."
"Good point," the Hunter says. "Not that I plan on doing anything stupid."
He hands the keys over to Brigitte.
"If I don't come back in 10 minutes, leave," he says.
"Those are our parents in there," Brigitte says. "We won't leave."
"Yeah," says Ginger. "We left one parent behind already on this trip, we aren't doing it again."
The Hunter's face tightens in anger, but he doesn't do anything else to acknowledge Ginger's comment.
"All right," he says. "If I don't come back in 10 minutes, come in after me and try not to get yourselves captured or killed."
The Hunter opens the car door and slips out, closing the door with no more sound than a soft click.
"Jeez," Ginger says. "How does he do that?"
The Hunter, however, is not there to answer. He is already gone.
"I…I don't understand," Henry says. He is sitting in one of his dining room chairs. He is tied to the chair. Sitting at the dining room table across from him, also tied to her chair, is Pamela.
"Do you remember the team of men and women at your house when you came home on Halloween night?" Rowlands asks.
"You mean the EMS people and police officers?" Henry asks. "Of course I remember. I'll never forget it. They brought up Brigitte on a stretcher, then sat my wife and me down and told us that a bear had broken into the house and killed Ginger and a local boy. Brigitte had apparently managed to stab the bear to death with a butcher's knife."
"It wasn't a bear, Henry," Pamela says.
Rowlands, who had opened his mouth to say something else, closes it, looks at Pamela, and then opens his mouth to speak again.
"What else do you think it was, Pamela?" Rowlands asks.
"It was Ginger," Pamela says. "Ginger killed that boy, and Brigitte killed Ginger, just like she was supposed to."
Henry stares at his wife as if she had grown horns.
"Supposed to?" Rowlands asks as he pulls up another dining room chair and sits next to Pamela, clearly fascinated by what she is saying.
"You know exactly what I mean, Wallace Rowlands," Pamela says.
"I don't believe I told you my first name, Mrs. Fitzgerald," Rowlands says, putting his gun down on the table and resting his chin in his hand.
"But I got it right, didn't I?" Pamela says.
"You did indeed," Rowlands says. "Am I to suppose that you know the story of the Red and the Black?"
Pamela simply stares at Rowlands.
"But if you know the prophecy in that story," Rowlands says. "Then you must have noticed that there have been more 'bear attacks' here since that Halloween night. Hardly consistent with what is supposed to happen when the Black kills the Red now is it?"
Henry finds his voice.
"What are you two talking about?" Henry asks.
"Oh," Rowlands says, looking at Pamela and pointing at Henry. "You haven't told him the story? The story of the first Fitzgerald sisters back in 1815?"
James and Claude, who are standing off to the side, look at one another. James mouths what and Claude shrugs.
"My two friends here don't know the story either, Mrs. Fitzgerald," Rowlands says. "Maybe you ought to tell it while we are waiting for your daughters."
Henry shakes his head.
"Wait," he says. "Rowlands, you were talking about the 'men and women' who were in our house."
"Oh yes," Rowlands said. "I'm sorry, I was distracted by the side conversation with your wife. Most of those people were from my team. They spirited Ginger out, who was seriously hurt but not dead."
"She was wounded by the bear?" Henry says.
Rowlands shakes his head.
"Do try to keep up, Henry," he says. "Your wife was right, there was no bear. Ginger was stabbed by Brigitte. We thought that Brigitte hadn't been infected, but we were fooled. Brigitte had managed to take a dose of her medicine. That was probably what made her pass out."
"Infection?" Henry asks. "Medicine?"
"Brigitte's a wendigo?" Pamela asks.
"Interesting choice of words, Pamela," Rowlands says. "I suppose the correct answer would be yes. Tell me, how did you know about the story of the Red and the Black?"
"Brigitte and Ginger are both alive?" Pamela asks.
Rowlands turns and looks at both James and Claude.
He shakes his head.
"No one is listening to me," he says. "Yes, as I have already been saying since the moment I rang your doorbell, your daughters are both alive. They're…"
Here, Rowlands smiles slightly and makes quotation marks with his hands.
"…'wendigos'," he says. "But otherwise they are alive."
Suddenly, Rowlands eyes narrow. He turns towards James and Claude.
"James," he says. "I believe we have a hunter looking in on us. Go turn him into prey, will you?"
James smiles and nods.
"With pleasure," he says. He walks to the sliding glass back door in the kitchen and slides it open, and walks out.
The Hunter watches from behind a back hedge row as James walks out of the sliding glass door. He starts to move very quietly behind the hedge row, then stops and looks back at the Fitzgeralds' backyard again. James is no longer there.
Then a hand falls on the Hunter's left shoulder, and James' face comes up behind the right side of the Hunter's head. The Hunter reaches down with his right hand.
"Looking for this, Great Red Hunter?" James says, bringing up the Hunter's silenced pistol and pointing it at his right temple. James chuckles briefly. "And Rowlands said that you were supposed to be good, but you just turned out to be another piece of meat. Hell, it was easier sneaking up on you than it was on your grandmother."
"Well hey, James."
James looks up. Ginger and Brigitte are now approaching him from either side. It was Ginger who had spoken.
"Well here you are," James says. "It's about time."
"So what're you doing here, James?" Ginger asks.
"You might tell your fucktard of a sister not to come any closer as long as I got the gun here," James says. "And what else can I say? I came to meet the parents, get your father's blessing. He was very happy when I told him that he wasn't going to have to pay for a white dress, by the way."
"Funny," says Ginger. "But then you always were funny in a 'vodka killed half of my brain cells' kind of way."
The Hunter turns to look at Brigitte and winks. Then he says:
"Jesus Christ, just go ahead and shoot me now. We all know you're going to."
James nods once.
"Good idea," he says. He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He holds up the gun and looks at it in confusion. Our view shifts to the Hunter's right hand. His fingers are curled under his shirt sleeve, and come out with a short, flat bladed hiltless knife. Our view shifts back to James and the Hunter. The Hunter brings up his knife and stabs it into James' throat, underneath his chin. James' eyes go wide. He croaks, then blood pours out of his mouth. Holding his knife pinched in a fist between his middle and ring finger, the Hunter turns and gently takes his gun back with his left hand. James tries to work his mouth, but nothing comes out.
"This gun was custom made for me," the Hunter says. "It has a second, hidden safety."
The Hunter pulls the knife out of James' throat. James falls face down, his body jerks a couple of times, then lies still.
"That's for calling Brigitte…" the Hunter's voice stops for a second. "…what you called her."
Then he drops to a knee and very carefully wipes the blade on the grass.
Ginger looks at Brigitte.
"Damn B," she says. "I think he likes you."
Rowlands walks up to Claude.
"I'm afraid that James is no longer with us," he says. "Sara's grandson has done him in."
"I heard," Claude says. "What is it with this family and killing werewolves?"
"Werewolves?" Henry says.
"Wendigos," Pamela says in a corrective tone of voice.
"Take the Fitzgeralds downstairs," Rowlands says as he picks up his gun again. "We'll make our stand here."
"Our stand?" Claude says. "We're outnumbered now. I say we leave them here, get the fuck out of here, and call in reinforcements."
"Please do as I say, Claude," Rowlands says calmly.
Claude goes over and picks up Pamela's chair and turns it on its side, so that he is carrying both Pamela and the chair like a suitcase. The chair creaks some under the weight. Then he picks up the chair with Henry in it and does the same thing. His chair not only creaks, it makes a cracking sound.
Claude then walks out of the dining room carrying a chair in each hand. Henry and Pamela both grunt as the weight of their bodies causes the ropes to cut into them. Rowlands pulls one of the remaining dining room chairs so that its back is against the nearest wall, then sits and waits. We hear both the front door and the sliding kitchen door open.
"I'm in here," Rowlands says.
"Where are Henry and Pamela?" we hear Ginger's voice ask from the kitchen.
"Downstairs with Claude, as you already know," Rowlands says. "I think Claude is taking a fancy to your mother."
"Claude takes a fancy to anything with two legs and tits," Ginger replies.
"Yes," Rowlands says. "He does indeed. He was really quite distraught over Danielle's death. Danielle was durable enough to withstand his appetites. Human meat is not so durable."
Rowlands cock his head, canine fashion.
"Mr. Hunter," Rowlands says. "I recommend that you don't start down those stairs, or I will have to tell Claude to do with Mrs. Fitzgerald what he will."
Rowlands' head remains cocked for a few seconds longer, then he raises it and nods.
"Good choice, Mr. Hunter," he says.
"Let our parents go, Colonel Rowlands," Brigitte's voice says. "Let them go and we'll go with you."
"No you won't, Brigitte," Rowlands says. "You fully believe in Sara's vision, don't you? I hate to disappoint you, but the vision is superstitious claptrap."
Rowlands gets up and moves silently across the dining room towards the kitchen.
"And what about you, Ginger?" he asks. "Do you believe in Sara's vision?"
There is no response. Rowlands smiles and shakes his head.
"You really think you can hide from me by not answering?" he asks. "I can hear your heart beat."
"And I can hear yours," Ginger says from behind the kitchen doorway. We hear a short whistling sound of something traveling through the air, and a knife is suddenly sticking out of Rowland's upper left shoulder. "And since I grew up here, I know where the knives are kept. Now, B!"
Brigitte comes into the dining room, the sniper rifle at her shoulder. We hear an extremely loud crashing noise, a second loud crashing noise, then footsteps, then a window break.
"Shit," says Ginger. There is a hole in the dining room ceiling. Ginger and Brigitte run around the corner into what looks to be a master bedroom, where there is another hole in the ceiling. The window is shattered, and we hear receding, running footsteps
Brigitte looks at the ceiling.
"Ginger?" she says, her eyes wide. "How the hell did he do that?"
"Claude!" we hear Rowlands say from somewhere in the front yard. We realize that we are experiencing the sort of the amplified hearing that Ginger and Brigitte have. "Kill Mrs. Fitzgerald if you please."
Our view switches to the Fitzgerald's basement. Claude takes a knee and leans forward into Pamela's face. Pamela's eyes go wide. Suddenly, we hear a loud cracking sound. Claude turns and raises his left hand and catches Henry's right hand at the wrist. Henry is standing with his chair half hanging off of his back. In his right hand Henry is holding his chair arm rest, its shattered lower end coming to a jagged point. Henry was obviously swinging it at Claude's head.
"No," says Claude, twisting Henry's wrist and breaking it. Henry cries out in pain and drops the arm rest. It clatters to the cement floor. "No participating. You just get to watch."
Pfft!
A red hole appears in Claude's left temple, and his right temple explodes in a bloody mess of bone and brain. Claude falls sideways and lays still. The Hunter comes down the stairs, gun in his hand.
"Are you both all right?" the Hunter asks.
"No, we are not," Pamela says testily. "That man broke Henry's wrist."
Upstairs in the dining room, Ginger tilts her head.
"Hear that, B?" she says. "The Hunter saved them."
"I told you there was something off about Claude," Brigitte says as she and Ginger look out the shattered bedroom window. There is the sound of an engine starting and a van being driven away.
"He's getting away, Ginger," Brigitte says.
"Yeah, but we'll be seeing him again," Ginger says.
Our view shifts to the interior of the van. Rowland's ears are again pointed and his teeth are large. He pulls the knife out of his shoulder and tosses it into the passenger seat. He then pulls a cell phone out of his jacket pocket.
He punches in a number, wincing slightly in pain as he does so because he's having to steer with his left hand and his injured shoulder.
"Yes," he says. "Director Bligh, please."
"Hello, Ms. Bligh," Rowlands says. "Yes, I'm afraid that things are not going well."
He listens, then says:
"They got all of them," Rowlands says. "Yes, you'll need to send in a team. Yes, I know this means I'll have to start over. Yes, I still think the project is worth doing. Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
Rowlands snaps the cell phone closed, wincing once again slightly as he does so.
"Bitch," he says to the closed phone. He makes a sudden hard right turn. Two or three cars honk.
We see Henry and Pamela coming up the stairs. The Hunter follows. As Henry and then Pamela reach the top of the stairs and step into the hallway, they turn and look and freeze, their jaws dropping. Then our view switches so that we see what they are seeing. Brigitte and Ginger are standing together, both awkwardly looking at each other, down and around, and eventually at their parents.
"Hey," says Ginger, her voice subdued and quiet.
"Hi Mom, Dad," Brigitte says. "We're, uhm, home?"
Pamela sobs and runs up to first Ginger and hugs her tightly, then, still hanging onto Ginger, she moves sideways to envelop Brigitte in a hug too. Ginger looks up at the Hunter, then down at Pamela, who is now sobbing uncontrollably, then back up at the Hunter. She mouths the words:
See? Crazy.
Henry looks at the Hunter, then back at the spectacle of his sobbing wife and two very embarrassed daughters.
"What…the …hell…is …going…on…here?" he asks.
Brigitte is carrying James' corpse, draped over her shoulder, through the kitchen door, as if it weighs nothing.
"So let me see if I have this straight," Henry says, his right arm and wrist now in a sling. "You're infected with this virus that is turning you into wolves."
"It's a package of viruses and bacteria, but yeah, that's basically it," says Brigitte as she carries the corpse through the kitchen, the dining room, and the hallway until she reaches the stairs. Then she starts to walk down the stairs cautiously, but still carrying James' body with shocking ease. At the bottom of the stairs, she lays James' body right next to Claude's.
"And before it turns you into wolves, it turns you into werewolves?" Henry says. "And that's what happened to Ginger?"
"It happened to both of us, but it happened to Ginger first," Brigitte says.
"And you stabbed her," Henry says.
"Yeah, right over there," Brigitte says, pointing in the direction of her and Ginger's old room. "I think it was an accident."
"I think I need to sit down," Henry says.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Brigitte says, running up to her father, taking him by the upper arms, and moving him over. "I think you need be standing over a chair when you do that."
"Oh yeah," Henry says. "Thank you."
Our view switches to the upstairs. We are in the master bedroom. Pamela is looking from the hole in the ceiling to the broken window, and back again.
"I'm never going to get this mess cleaned," she says.
Ginger is standing at the doorway, watching her mother.
"So is Rowlands possessed by a wendigo too?" Pamela asks. "Like you?"
Ginger's forehead wrinkles in confusion.
"A wendigo?" she says. "What the f-, I mean, what's a wendigo?"
The Hunter appears behind Ginger.
"It's a legend from a number of native cultures, including my people," he says. "The wendigo is supposed to be a spirit that possesses people who eat human flesh and transforms them into giant, man eating monsters. My grandmother thought that the legend came from around here, when the lycanthropy outbreak started. Most of my people in fact do refer to werewolves as wendigos."
"Makes sense," says Ginger. "People get bitten, turn homicidal as the pathogen starts to take effect, then turn into huge monsters."
The Hunter turns around and walks away, leaving Ginger alone with her mother. Ginger looks at him briefly and opens her mouth as if she is going to beg him to stay with her, but she doesn't say anything. She turns back towards her mother.
"I tried to tell myself it wasn't going to happen," says Pamela. "I thought it would be a funny joke when I named you Ginger, with our last name being Fitzgerald and all. Then your red hair came in and I was terrified I was tempting fate. Then your sister was born with her light, fine blond hair and I thought it was safe to indulge in the joke again. But, as she got older Brigitte's hair turned dark. Then the beast came, and I knew how deeply stupid I had been. I knew that I had brought the Red and the Black back into the world."
"W..wait a minute!" Ginger says, surprised. "You knew the story of the Red and the Black? How the fuck did you know about that?"
"Language, Ginger," Pamela says as she starts to pick up pieces of broken glass from the windowsill.
"Never mind about that Mo-Pamela," Ginger says. "Answer my question."
"Well, I grew up here, of course," Pamela says. "I knew the local legends."
"Excuse me, Mom," Ginger says, then shakes her head at her own forgetfulness. "Pamela. Remember Mrs. Varner, our third grade teacher? She knew all the local legends and had us all do projects on them. She never once talked about the Red and the Black."
"Well, that story would have hardly been appropriate to tell to third graders, now would it?" Pamela says.
Ginger shrugs.
"You got a point there," Ginger says.
"But still, you're right," Pamela says, picking up another piece of glass and giving a small cry as it cuts her finger. She brings her finger up to her mouth. Ginger, unnoticed behind her, licks her lips. "I doubt Mrs. Varner knew about the story of the Red and the Black either. But my grandmother on my mother's side, your great grandmother, was half Indian you know. She claimed to be a direct descendent of the seer who had the first vision of the Red and the Black."
"Wow," Ginger says. "There really is such a thing as destiny."
"Well of course there is, dear," Pamela says, flapping the hand with the injured finger in the air. "I've always thought so."
As Pamela speaks, Ginger's expression indicates that she has just had another, more upsetting, thought.
"Holy shit," Ginger mutters to herself. "I just realized. Brigitte wants to fuck our cousin."
"What was that?" Pamela asks.
"Nothing," Ginger says loudly. Then she starts to mutter quietly to herself again. "But it's OK. They'll be distant cousins by now. Besides, Brigitte will make sure he wears protection so nothing should happen and then we'll be wolves and he'll be out of the picture anyway."
"What are you prattling on about, dear?" Pamela says. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turns and sighs. "I'm going to have to call somebody about this window. Not to mention the ceilings…"
Pamela starts to prattle on herself, but we don't hear it. We hear through Ginger's ears as she filters out her mother's talking. Then we hear Brigitte's voice come up from the basement.
"Mind your own business, Ginger."
Henry is packing a large suitcase. It contains some clothes, and now he is packing some framed photographs and some books, including a photo album. Brigitte is helping him pack.
"I'm really sorry about this, Dad," Brigitte says.
Henry nods, then smiles.
"Brigitte," he says. "I'm not. I'm glad to lose a house in exchange for getting my two daughters back. Besides, this place has been a tomb since you two were gone."
"Dad, it couldn't have been too lively when we were here," Brigitte says. "It's not like we talked to you much or anything."
"You and Ginger were close," he says. "I understood you were different."
"We were into death, Dad," Brigitte says. "Ginger and I even had a suicide pact."
Henry stops his packing and looks at his daughter, his expression horrified and fearful.
"You were going to kill yourselves?" Henry asks.
Brigitte shakes her head.
"I really don't think we were," Brigitte says. "I think we just liked to talk about it. At least I'm pretty sure I wasn't, and I was privately hoping that Ginger was all talk as well. But then Ginger got bitten and things got all messed up."
"It sounds like things were already messed up," Henry says as he resumes packing. "I should have known about this. As you know, I tended to let your mother deal more directly with you."
"Yeah, and we appreciated that," Brigitte says in a mildly sarcastic tone.
Henry turns and looks at Brigitte, who is smiling slightly at him. Then he starts to shake his head and laugh a little.
The scene switches to Pamela carrying a large suitcase with two hands. It is heavy and she is struggling. Ginger comes up to her and takes it, holding the suitcase easily by one hand and moving it up and down speculatively, as if trying to guess the weight.
"Craft stuff?" Ginger asks.
"Craft stuff," Pamela confirms.
"So you were told the story of the Red and the Black," Ginger says.
"Yes, by my mother," Pamela says. "I suppose it's lucky that she didn't live to see me name her granddaughters after the original Fitzgerald sisters. She would have been horrified at my tempting of fate. She was worried enough when I married someone with the last name of Fitzgerald. I guess I just have a warped sense of humor. Always have."
"Really?" Ginger says.
"Oh, you have no idea how many trips I made to the principal's or counselor's office for the pranks my brothers and I pulled," Pamela says. "I was the terror of Bailey Downs High School."
"So was I," Ginger says. "Only in my case, you know, literally. I killed my counselor."
"I know, Ginger," Pamela says.
"You knew all along, didn't you?" Ginger says.
"I knew what Brigitte had actually killed in that basement," Pamela says. "Or so I thought."
"Oh she killed me, alright," Ginger says. "But only for a little while, until Rowlands and his team were able to revive me."
"Oh, Ginger, when I watched how close you two were getting, and how morbid you two were getting," Pamela says. "When I saw Brigitte's hair turn dark and stay dark, I just had this sense of impending doom. I so wanted to protect you, but knew that I couldn't. And then that counselor told me that you two were known at school as the 'weird sisters'…
"…and I looked for anything, anything that would prove to me that you were just two normal girls."
Ginger suddenly looks at her mother as if a light is going on in her head.
"Like periods," Ginger says.
"Yes," Pamela says. "You two still hadn't had your first period when you were 15 and 16. I was seriously freaked out by that."
"That explains a lot," Ginger mutters to herself.
"So is everybody packed?" the Hunter asks. Everyone is standing in the living room.
Brigitte, wearing black slacks and a black turtleneck, nods.
"I think so," she says. "Thanks for keeping some of our old clothes, Mom. I was getting tired of the jeans and sweatshirt."
"You're welcome, dear," Pamela says.
"Yeah, thanks, Pamela," Ginger says. Ginger is wearing a purple crop top shirt and dark blue jeans.
"It wouldn't hurt for you to call her 'Mom' too, would it, Ginger?" Henry says with an edge of anger in his voice. Pamela lightly touches Henry's arm.
"It's alright, Henry," she says.
"It's disrespectful, Pam," Henry says.
"It's Ginger being Ginger, Henry," Pamela says.
"Can we please get the fuck out of here, now?" Ginger asks the Hunter.
The Hunter nods.
"Mrs. Fitzgerald," the Hunter says. "You take Ginger, Brigitte, and Henry in your SUV. You drive down to your favorite restaurant, say goodbye to your girls, go in, and call that number I gave you. Then you wait there for my cousin. Ginger and Brigitte will wait in the SUV until I come to pick them up."
"And what are you going to do?" Henry asks.
"I'm going down to the basement and look for a way to start a fire," the Hunter says. "Hopefully, James and Claude will be identified as two guys who got caught in a botched arson."
"Uhm, Mr. Hunter," Pamela says.
"Yes, Mrs. Fitzgerald," the Hunter says.
"There's some Turpentine and an electric space heater I keep in the basement," she says. "The heater's on a timer."
Henry looks at his wife, his eyes wide. Ginger and Brigitte share a knowing look.
"Thank you, Mrs. Fitzgerald, that should do fine," the Hunter says.
Rowlands steps out of his black van. He looks completely human again, and he moves his left arm in a circle experimentally, making a slight face as he does so. He is parked next to a sign that says Bailey Downs, A Caring and Safe Community. In the background, we hear fire sirens and as our view moves around Rowlands, we see black smoke in the distance.
Then we hear the beat of the rotors of a helicopter, followed by the sounds of another helicopter. Our view pans up until we see two massive black helicopters in the distance approaching Rowlands. One of them stays in the air while the other one descends onto the field. The long grass bends away from the landing helicopter, and Rowlands, his head down, runs to it. The same dark skinned and curly haired man we saw before meets him at the helicopter door, this time in black military fatigues.
"Colonel Rowlands," the man says. "Director Bligh wanted me to be very clear with you on this. This is exclusively a search, destroy and cleanup mission. No attempt is to be made to retrieve either of the Fitzgerald sisters alive."
"Of course," Rowlands says. He gets onto the helicopter. As the helicopter ascends, he looks out the window at the rising plume of smoke.
End Act 5
The next act will be it, folks. End of the road.