Chapter 2: Right on the Nose
Joe was nearly breathless as he jogged through the automatic doors of Bayport Memorial's Emergency Department. As soon as Biff had turned into the hospital's parking area, Joe had launched himself from the truck and ran the distance down the sidewalk to the main entrance. Chet intercepted him at the front desk and ushered him to the back. Frank, Phil and Biff took up an all too familiar vigil in the waiting room while they waited for Vanessa's mother to arrive.
Half an hour later a woman with dark brown hair and graying at her temples burst into the room and locked eyes with Frank.
"Andrea!" Out of habit, Frank began to stand as the woman approached their small group, but Andrea Bender motioned with her hands for him to keep his seat and joined them in the far corner of the room.
" 'Ave you 'eard anything yet?" she asked, her accented voice cracking with worry over her only child.
"No Ma'am." said Frank.
"They had already taken Joe back there with her by the time we parked and got in here." Biff supplied. Andrea rested a shaky hand over her brow and rubbed her forehead.
"I told her to go home before it got too dark. She insisted on finishing those Thank You notes tonight." The middle-aged woman sniffed and searched in her shoulder bag for a tissue.
"And you wondered why she and Joe were such a good fit." Phil added, trying to distract Ms. Bender. The woman gave a small laughed as she wiped her nose.
"Amen to that." she said. Andrea and Frank's phones pinged just then and they both reached for them. A text from Joe read that Vanessa just got out of the CT scan and everything looked good so far, a broken nose and a cracked rib were the worst of her injuries.
"Dieu merci!" Andrea rested her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. She'd no sooner gotten the words out of her mouth when Chet walked into the waiting room, his usually jovial freckled face was stern, yet weary.
"How is she?"
"What happened?"
"Did she total the car?"
"Hang on, hang on!" Chet held up his hands to halt the rapid-fire questions from everyone. "She's got some pretty nasty bruising and a laceration across the bridge of her nose. So she's going to look like a raccoon for a week or two. The doctor wants to keep her for twenty-four hours of observation because she was unconscious when the paramedics arrived."
"May I go see her?" Andrea insisted, and Chet nodded.
"Sure, she's in exam room four. You'll see Joe sitting in a chair just outside the room. Hang out with him until Kelly's done cleaning her up. Alright, Ms. Bender?" With a quick kiss to the red headed nurse's ruddy cheek, Andrea set off to check on her baby girl. Chet could see the lingering questions on his friends' faces.
"It was a single car accident. The EMT's said it looked like she hit a deer, a big one too. There were tufts of hair caught up in what was left of the grill. "
"Oh man! At least she's okay." Biff sat back and stretched out his long legs.
"Ugh, and as bright as the moon is tonight, the deer are probably on the move too." Frank reasoned.
"Is Joe going to stay with Vanessa overnight?" asked Phil.
"Yeah, he said he'd call or text in the morning for a ride home to freshen up. Then he wants to go the collision center and check out her car." Chet suddenly yawned and shook his head.
"What time are you punching out tonight?" Biff asked his roommate.
"I'm supposed to get off at midnight, but I'll hang out with Joe until Van's settled in a room."
"Just be careful of the deer." Frank advised.
"Ah, don't worry about me. I'll hit a Red Bull before I take off." Chet laughed but Biff sighed. He'd never understand why people in the medical field had worse health habits than the people they took care of.
…..
A man in his mid-forties sat in a Western-themed bar in New York City, slowly sipping on a beer, oblivious to the frivolity and loud music that surrounded him. Dear G-d, what a long night. He'd had absolutely no luck in his search tonight, and worse, he'd gotten hungry. The irresistible smell of a meal so fresh distracted him, and his most basic of instincts had taken over. That's when things went down hill, literally. He'd had his quarry in sight and was going to strike from the hill above when the nine-pointer buck suddenly pushed off to the right, and onto the rural road below.
The deer stopped in the middle of the unmarked asphalt, dark eyes opened wide and ears perked up. He made his move, lunging for the animal below. But instead of his teeth sinking into his prize, his world became an explosion of squealing tires, crunching metal and pain flaring through his left side. The impact threw him off toward the gully on the other side of the road. And as darkness encroached on his vision, he could hear the thump of hoofed feet making their flight deeper in to the woods.
He had woken minutes later to the claxon of a car's emergency horn alerting all within earshot that the vehicle and driver inside were in a state of distress. He could see blonde tendrils fanned out over the steering wheel and deflating airbag. Something in him wanted to check on the victim, make sure she was okay. But he looked down at his unclothed form and realized that was probably not a good idea.
He stood and saw the bruising up and down his side, something may have been broken at some point, but nothing felt like it was severely out of place. He'd had worse. The wail of a siren in the distance shook him from his self appraisal. He ran across the road back in the direction he came from, to the cover of the trees.
There he took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes and reached within, to the animal within. He crouched and curled in on himself, feeling the transformation beginning to take place. His hair, his arms, legs, fingers, back, all elongating, stretching. In his mouth he felt his teeth extend and widen in alignment with his jaw and nose. Smells became sharper, his hearing keener. Finally he dropped onto all fours and raced off for his starting point, miles away, where his vehicle and clothes were waiting for him.
Now in the bar with the citified cowboys and scantily clad women dancing on the bar top, he was drowning his troubles. How was he going to tell that pale-faced weirdo that for the fifth night in a row he'd yet to pick up the scent? He'd never had this hard of a time tracking someone or something before.
"Nothing? Not even a whiff?" The man sat up straight and turned to the sound of the voice. Damn that fleet footed devil, the son of a bitch needed a bell around his neck.
"How'd you…?" The other man began to say.
"Your posture, Mr. Hodnett. You have the look of defeat about you." A tall and very pale ginger-haired man sat beside Earl Hodnett at the bar. He waved to the well endowed bartender and ordered a sparkling water.
"Interesting choice of meeting place, by the way." The ginger haired man commented as a busty blonde handed him a bottle of Perrier.
"I seen a movie about this place on pay-per-view years back. Always said if I ever come to New York I'd want to see this place for myself. Course, the wife won't never 'ave let me come here if she were with me."
"I imagine you're anxious to get back home to her and your family."
"Not til I find your man, Mr. Langhorne."
"Eric, please." The tall man insisted.
"Well, Eric, ya paid me up front. I tend to hold up my end of our agreement."
"If you haven't been able to find him, Mr. Hodnett, I don't think he's to be found." Eric sighed and took sip of the bubbly water.
"But what about the job ya asked me to do? I can't just take your money."
"Consider it compensation for your troubles and sending you away from your family and your business venture back home in the middle of your season."
"Well, thank ya kindly." Earl took another sip of his beer and thought for a moment. "Ya know, I hear tell of a fella who might be able to help ya, better'n I ever could."
"Who?"
"They call him Le Nez. Sounds funny I know, but I think it means "The Nose" in French. He's sort of a fancy pants, but he's got a good 'nuff reputation." Earl shrugged.
"How can I reach him?" Eric asked. Earl grabbed a napkin and wrote Le Nez's whereabouts on it.
"That's awfully far away." The ginger complained.
"Welp, they say he's the best. And you get what you pay for."
"Indeed. Well Earl Hodnett, it has been a pleasure doing business with you."
"Thank you. I'm just sorry I couldn't find your missing person for ya. Have ya tried a private eye or goin' to the police?"
"I've considered those avenues." Eric lied. "But I'm trying to keep this as low key as possible, it's complicated."
After a final goodbye Eric left Earl alone at the bar to finish his drink. Once he was several blocks away he went to a payphone and dialed a number he had saved on a piece of paper.
A few rings and finally a drawling female voice answered the call.
"Good Evening. VirginiaState Police…"
"Yes, I'd like anonymously report the whereabouts of an illegal still in FranklinCounty. I have the coordinates to it…."
…..
"Holy Shit Joe! Did Van hit a deer or an elephant?" Biff was overwhelmed by the amount of damage to the front of the black Mazda. Joe shook his head. They were lucky, damn lucky.
He'd spent the entire night wide awake in the chair by Vanessa's bed, feeling like a complete jerk for the way things had worked out. If he'd just helped her whenever Vanessa had asked him with those damn thank you notes, at least to stuff and seal the envelopes, or put the stamps on them, then she wouldn't have been so behind getting them done. And she wouldn't have needed to go to her mother's house to do them and she wouldn't be lying in the hospital with a gash across her nose and her face and chest black and blue.
Instead he was busy with work, or helping Biff hunt, or hanging out with the guys. What kind of husband found more to do after the wedding and have less time to spend with their wife than before they got married? When Joe Hardy fucked up, he fucked up royally.
"Joe?" Biff's voice brought Joe out of his miserable train of thought.
"Yeah?"
"Van did say she saw a deer last night, right? Was that all she saw?"
"That's all she said she could remember before she blacked out. Why?" Joe walked over and squatted down next to Biff who was in the same position, closely examining the badly dented grill and busted headlights. Biff plucked a tuft of fur from the grill and held it to his nose, inhaling. He stood and looked at the tuft closely. Joe straightened and watched his friend.
"Joe, I don't think Van hit a deer."
"You can tell by the hair?"
"Pretty much. This isn't deer hair. This looks and smells more dog-like." He took another whiff. "Wild. But I detect human too."
"Do what?"
"I smell… wolf… and man. Oh, Jesus Christ!" Biff's eyes widened when he finally realized what he was holding.
"It's a Were, Joe. Your wife hit a fucking werewolf last night!"