Required Scenario (s):
-You didn't choose to cut off Dylan's hand as Ryan as a result Dylan is still infected
-Abi was killed by Nick Result: Abi and Dylan don't assume they were both bit by Kaylee thus Dylan goes with Laura instead of Ryan to the Hackett's. Ryan goes with Kaitlyn to the scrapyard instead of Dylan.
"Maybe that spooky house behind those woods." Kaitlyn points out the window.
"Dude!" Ryan exclaimed.
Kaitlyn shrugged. "If it means a cure for Dylan and Nick and another step closer out of here.."
"I should go with her." Dylan cuts her off.
"What?" Both Ryan and Kaitlyn say at the same time.
"So I can't hurt anybody. You all will be safe. Here. It'll be safer if I go."
"He's right. Werewolves don't attack each other when they're transformed. Or depending how far along the infection is. He'll be safer with me."
"Yeah. What she said. Get it? What she said?"
Kaitlyn stares at him. "Dylan, did you really have to?"
"She walked right into that."
"Don't...blame it on me." Laura shifts her good eye toward him.
"While you two go all Scooby-Doo gang on that creepy house over there..." Kaitlyn looks at the silhouette of the run-down looking mansion. "Ryan and I will go back to the lodge to check the van, see what needs to be fixed so we can get the hell out of here."
"Wait...I think...is that.." Laura made her way over to Abi's body. The piece of jewelry on her wrist glittered from the moon light. It had caught her eye before but she wasn't sure.
"Stop. What are you doing?" Ryan pointed the gun at her. "Don't touch her."
"I'm trying to help." She took off Abi's bracelet and put it in an empty shotgun casing. "Here. It's silver." She handed it to Kaitlyn. "Worst case scenario, this should give you a fighting chance."
"And it will kill them?" Kaitlyn asked.
"Yep."
"What if it's Nick or someone?"
"Like I said, worst case scenario."
"Ryan would you put the gun down before you hurt someone." Kaitlyn directed.
"C'mon, we don't have much time."
"Everything will be fine." Dylan tries to reassure Ryan. "If she ends up being right, you won't be able to do it."
"Dylan, you don't have to do this."
"It's not like my life matters or anything."
Ryan opens his mouth and closes it. "What makes you think it doesn't matter? It does matter. Your life matters, Dylan. It matters to me."
Really? Because all those years of going to camp together when we were campers, you barley said any words to me, until tonight, now that I'm going to risk my life, possibly to kill our camp leader, that you see as a father figure. I have none because my own father hates me for who I am and I don't need another one. That's why I hide who I am because I fear that he's right. You'll end up blaming me and hating me for it anyway. I know they'll probably blame me for it. But hey, what can you do? Going on a suicide mission after all.
He's under no illusion that he's not entirely invisible. So many things could still go wrong. Angry cop that locked Laura and Max up for two months, or the hunters could kill them with silver before they even got close to Chris. He's OK with either. Rather than live with this curse forever. No one would miss him. His mother was dead. No. There was one other person. His sister Izzy would. She was young. Only eight years old. He had tried to make happy memories for her at camp this summer, like he had, growing up, before heading off to college.
He had to try. For her. There was a promise he made to himself. That he'd go to school, get his degree and teach quantum psychics at the college, get a place and settle so he could get custody of his little sister. So he could get her away from their toxic homophobic father. And maybe if he got out on the other side of this he would get Ryan's number.
"I know it's...I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. "
"You still don't have to go." Ryan gently took his hand. The not bitten one.
"No. It has to be me." Dylan took Ryan's hand away, to take hold of both of his hands for what seemed a moment too long, before letting them go. He didn't want it to feel like a goodbye. "If I stay here and end up like Nick, I don't want to risk hurting you or Kaitlyn."
"You better bring him back in one piece. And no shooting anyone else till you're absolutely sure. Promise, you will." He's asking a lot, putting faith into this stranger. If Dylan trusted her, he guessed he could too.
"I promise. I will."
Hackett's Quarry- Caves- Laura
Water breaks my fall. I drop right into it, catching me by surprise. Unable to close my mouth, water chokes me as I keep flailing, somersaulting into the depths. I see a beam of light. The flashlight of the riffle. I grab for it, the strap slipping through my fingers. I didn't come this far...I'm finally able to grab it.
I push myself up toward the surface, pain shooting through my body as if I'd been stung by a thousand jelly fish.
I hear my name being called. At first I think that it's Max. But of course, it can't be. He's still on the Island, and still a werewolf. Which I was about to be any minute.
"Are you ok?"
I cough a few times, swimming toward the edge, and pull myself out. I spit up the poison that is burning my throat. Then I breath in long, slow, breaths of dank stale air.
"It stalks your breath but shuns clear water." I look around me. We're in a cavern. The flashlight beam streaks over clear blue water, a strip of dry-ish land surrounding the pool in a crescent shape. The water takes up half the cave, no bigger than a backyard swimming pool. When I aim the flashlight upward I see a dome of rock, surrounding us on all sides. The spot from which we fell it looks to be about ten feet. We've fallen into the belly of the beast.
"I think we found the Quarry."
"Ya think."
I look over to my new companion, ignoring the sarcastic quip. The water isn't affecting him yet. He might have more time. If I turn before I can kill Chris, can I trust him to do it?
We're standing a few inches from each other now. He's looking down at my arm. What? I want to say but he's reaching toward my eye-patch.
"Yo!"
I reach out my hand to stop him.
"Just trust me." I did. This complete and utter stranger. When he removed the eye patch, I could see out of both eyes.
"No way!" I waved my hand in front of my face to see if what I was seeing was actually real. My smile fades as I realize something. "What color are my eyes? Are they yellow?"
"Uh...Yes?"
I go over to the pool. I see yellow reflecting back at me.
"Shit. I'm getting closer. We have to keep moving."
The tunnels seemed to go on forever as they made their way up. The only way he knew how to pass the time was talk. Break the ice a little.
"Since your eye grew back, do you think if Ryan had cut my hand off, and I got bitten again, you think it would've grown back?"
"Do you know how extremely unlucky you'd have to be?
"Lenivy my name's not lucky."
"What?"
"That's m...my name. Don't wear it out."
She whirled around on him. "Would you stop with the jokes already?"
"Am I boring you?"
"More like annoying me actually. Why are you like this?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Stand-offish, pretending to be a bad-ass."
"Like how you pretend to be a smart-ass? You hide behind your humor because you don't want people to see who you are. Max does it because he doesn't want people to see that he's in pain."
"So you think Max is better than me?"
"You know that's not what I meant."
She was interrupted by a whisper. "Do...do you hear that?"
"The Hag of Hackett's Quarry."
"It's like she's guiding us."
"Or warning us. I..heard her earlier I think during the summer. At first I thought it was just Ryan's ghost stories getting the better of my imagination. Or I was dreaming, or sleep walking. And I never do that. Anyway, it lead me to Mr H's office and all I remember thinking is, how much I really wanted the gun" Even when he and Ryan where in his office before the party and before this whole night went all to hell, with blood, monsters and teeth, and when they were about to call 911. He didn't even remember grabbing it off the wall. "and I don't even like guns. She wanted me to take it I guess but I was interrupted by Chris but before that, I heard the word danger. I don't know if it was actually her...I wonder if there's more ghosts." He thought of Ryan's other story, about part of the quarry being flooded into the lake, after the miners had died in a mining accident, including children before child labor laws, and people who have supposedly drowned there over the last a hundred years. And their voices luring you into the lake to drown you or lure you into the woods.
"Who knows? After the two months I've had, I'd say it's possible? But it seems like she was warning you about Chris. Even then."
They continue on until they're stopped by an obsticale. A boarded up tunnel.
"I can go ahead." She sensed his hesitation. "Or do you want to wait here alone in the dark?"
"I got this." It took him a few seconds but he was able to pry the board off with one hand.
"Someone's been eating their spinach." Laura remarked. Got to say I'm impressed. Stop it. Laura. You have a boyfriend. And I'm pretty sure he's gay. He's interested in Ryan. But for the life of her she couldn't figure out why.
"Ew, I hate spinach. Ladies first."
The tunnel finally ended, leading into what resembled a room, broken down wooden crates in one corner, next to a door. On top of one of the crates sits a dusty liquor jug. Dylan picks it up.
"Ooh, party time."
"That's gotta be at least a hundred years old!" She exclaims.
"Prohibition then…Cool. Vintage. You want some?" He hands it out to Laura, who puts her arms up.
"No thanks. We'll celebrate later."
"I'll hold you to that."
"That means these must be old rum running tunnels. Guess the Hacketts were bootleggers."
"Running the Quarry wasn't making enough. Makes sense they'd branch out. This families already shady af."
"Ok, this must be it." She opens the door, leading into another room.
They see a red light up ahead and head toward it. They're met with three rows of cages. Inside one of them is Jacob.
"Dylan. Oh my God, thank Fuck, am I glad to see you!"
"Really?"
"Who the hell is she?"
"She's ok. She's in charge."
"Yeah? But what the hell is she doing?"
Dylan turns to see Laura pointing a gun toward the werewolf.
"Laura, what are you doing?"
"It's him."
"Why would they keep him down here locked in a cage? We have to be sure."
"Look, they said they've got two of us already accounted for." Jacob said. "Whatever that means."
"It must be Nick."
"Your friend?" Laura asked.
"Can you get me the fuck out of here?" Jacob begged.
"How?"
"Okay…" He motions towards Dylan with his palms together, "so all I know is you have to open my door and that door…" he points his hands towards the middle door then towards the last door with possibly Nick "and definitely not that door."
"Right, right. Easy."
"Okay, there's a console on the wall over there." Jacob points to it with his index finger. "Like a box, or whatever. You should be able to use those switches to isolate each cage."
Dylan nods, looking over towards the wall. "Ok, just uh stay here."
"Dude, where the fuck am I gonna go?" Jacob motions to the cage around him.
"Sass me again Jacob and I will leave your ass down here. On the other hand... you're probably safer down here anyway. soo..." He turns to leave.
" No. Fuck., wait...uh, never mind, ok?."
"Just messing with you Jacob."
He winks cheekily, walking towards the wall opposite of Jacob's cage and opens the breaker revealing 4 switches, labeled 1, 2, 3, and 4.
"What…" Dylan glances back at the other side of the room and notices each cage has a number. The werewolf's is labeled 7, the middle is labeled 5, and Jacob's is labeled 3.
He takes a breath, looking over the switches and labels again. How the fuck is he supposed to open number 5 ? And how the fuck was number 7 even able to be opened?
"Oh. Right. Basic math."
1+2
He reaches forward, pulling down the first switch followed by the second switch. Jacob's door leading towards the middle cage opens.
"Focus, dude, focus." Jacob prompts.
"Hold on…" Dylan hesitates to continue. then 2+3 "Got it." Jacob's door opens. "Mind gun. Get it?"
"What?' Laura asks.
"Mind. Gun." He taps the side of his head with two fingers, imitating a double barrel of a gun.
"Oh, Jesus crimany." Laura curses. He has some pretty dark humor or it's slipped his mind that he was a werewolf and at any moment Sheriff Hackett could put a silver bullet in their brains. And it wouldn't matter to him if one of them was human.
Jacob walks over to them, patting Dylan on the shoulder. "I'd never thought I'd say this but thank God you're such a nerd."
"Listen uh, Jacob, the others should be back at the lodge. But Emma, she wasn't with them. " Jacob's trying not to look worried. And he can't tell him about Abi now. He'll find out eventually. And so will Nick. "We came in through the tunnels. I don't know if there's a way back out so be careful, alright?"
Jacob gives a nod. "Thanks, man." He puts his hand on Dylan's shoulder, squeezing it. "If we both get out of this alive, I promise I'll never give you shit again."
He feels the knife in his side. During the commotion, (being discovered under the floorboards of the house and dragged up, Laura shooting the old ladies face off in the struggle for the gun, darting down the hallway as the old man shot at her ) the big hunter dude had stabbed him. Being stabbed really hurt. It was nice of her to leave him but in all fairness, she probably didn't see what happened.
He had to find a way to escape now. The only way was down. The dumbwaiter behind him. He hated confined spaces but he didn't really had a choice. Big hunter dude that looked like John Cena, lunged for the rope but missed.
The make-shift elevator reached as far as it would go. He was in what appeared to be a bedroom. It'd take time for them to get down here. It might buy him some time to look around. See what he could find.
He shouldn't really be exploring. He should be searching for Chris.
But If I'm going to kill Chris, I need some evidence or they'll for sure send me to prison or if I tell them Chris was a werewolf and I had to kill him, I will end up in a mental ward. Both are not an option. Just enough to prove self defense.
It was, sort of, wasn't it?
He'd been stabbed. He didn't have any medical knowledge to know that if he was a normal human he'd have bled out by now, surely. Even with the knife being where it was at, which could have perforated his lung.
He went over to the side of the bed. There was a jewelry box with little pink flowers painted on top. He opened it. Inside it was a locket with a picture of Kaylee and a letter. He unfolded it, trying his best to not get his bloody fingerprints on it but it was impossible. Bang up job, Dylan.
At least he didn't fudge up the writing.
Gammy,
How long we gonna drag this shit out? I know family is the most important thing, but I wanna know what's outside the forest, outside this damn house and camp, and I sure as hell know that ain't about to happen 'cos of who we are.
Maybe we can explain what's goin' on. Fuckin' show people. Then they'll know we got no control over it.
I know you just tryin' to protect us, but one day you won't be here no more and right now it feels like we're stuck in a dark hole.
I can't sleep Gammy. Or if I do I dream about those sharp teeth, the fire, all those screams. We didn't mean to start it. We were just dumb-ass kids back then. I wish it never happened.
Damn. Kaylee. He thought.
He could only hope Caleb was ok.
He shouldn't think about that now. His heart felt like a lump in his stomach. Or was that the hunger? Or the knife sticking into his side, the blood pooling into his internal organs. Even for a werewolf, he knows that's not good. He's pretty sure the knife is silver.
He should keep Kaylee's letter as evidence. He folds it and put it in his pocket. The one that's not drenched in blood.
He heard footsteps thudding slowly down the hall. He had time to hide. The damn knife in his side made it difficult to move.
He was pretty sure it had missed his heart. If most werewolf lore was right and silver only killed a werewolf by silver to the heart or the head it would heal if he pulled it out right?
The footsteps were closer now.
He was still faster. He could pull it out but that would only slow him down or if he was wrong he could bleed out.
He tries to open the door adjacent from him but it's locked. He twists the knob hard in his hand and pulls, the wood warps and splinters and he's able to slip through. Miraculously not jostling the knife in his side. That would have been fun. He opens another door to his left.
He's between the walls of the house, the inner skeleton, revealing plumbing and scaffolding, long abandoned. If he dies here, they will never find him. Can't think like that Dylan. Got to keep moving.
He hears the hunters footsteps again. Not far away. Thanks to werewolf hearing. That was still working. They say hearing was the last thing to go. Maybe he'll find me.
"You can't hide from me in my own house fucker."
Dylan resists the urge to give a comeback. He needs to stay quiet. He holds his breath. Until he can no longer hear the footsteps or the hunter's breathing.
He slips out between the hole in the wall. And out yet another door, that leads to a small flight of metal stairs. Once he descents them, he feels the exhaustion. He needs to stop to rest.
Letting it overcome him, he lies down on the brick floor. Why is the floor brick? The walls and ceiling are all glass. It's a room made of glass. This must be a conservatory. He see's the moon above him so bright and full.
"I can't believe Dylan went off with Laura like that." Ryan and Kaitlyn were on their way to the scrapyard. He was surprised that she knew where it was. He might have come off as jealous but he was deeply worried about Dylan.
"He did it to keep us safe."
"I know. I still think it was stupid of him to do and risky. He was talking as if he wasn't going to come back." Dylan had sounded depressed. Had he been before? Before all this? He had just found out tonight that he had a history of panic attacks. Often times they were accompanied with anxiety and depression. He didn't want to think that Dylan intentionally went into a suicide mission with no way out. Dylan was doing this for him more than for himself. That's what kind of person Dylan Dylan was.
Dylan thought he could never pull the trigger. To kill Chris. But could I? Ryan asked himself. If I was there instead of Dylan?
Could he have when the time came? He guessed he'd never know. A part of him blamed Laura for taking him to that damn house.
No Dylan wanted to go. They have to come back. He has to come back.
It still hurt that he had chosen Laura over him. They could have locked him in the lodge, put him in wherever that trapdoor led to in Mr H's office. It was too late now. He heard a howl, far away in the distance. Wondering if it was Nick or Dylan.
"Hey. He will."
"Do you think something was...going on there? With him and Laura."
"Pffttt. No. Dylan's totally into you."
"Really? I don't really see it." Kaitlyn just stares at him, giving him an, are you kidding me look.
"He's been flirting with you all summer and you haven't noticed? It was painfully obvious and painful to watch."
"Social cues Kaitlyn, I'm not very good at them. It felt like he was flirting with Laura or showing off or something."
"Social cues huh? There was definitely something there." She sees Ryan's disappointed expression. "But...it was more like angry sparks than sexy sparks. A little bit of both maybe? Must be what happens when two werewolves are in the room with each other."
"So you're saying because they got werewolf cooties they got the hots for each other?"
"I think, once he's cured, he'll snap out of it and come crawling back to you."
"I don't know. I'm starting to think he's not worth the effort."
"I call bull. You've got feelings man."
"oh, here we are!"
They arrived at the gates of the scrapyard. Ryan escapes to live the rest of that conversation another day. That is if they made it out of here alive.
He can't believe how beautiful the full moon is, how peaceful it makes him feel. Despite all the trouble it's caused tonight. Perhaps that was the wolf in him, that was being drawn to the moon light.
It's blocked out by a shadow figure. It slowly comes into focus. The hunter. He tries to crawl away.
"No, please. No."
"You don't want this, do you? I can put you out of your misery. I can make this real easy for you."
"N...nooo." I want to live. I want to live. "You don't have to do this."
"I don't? I have to do what my family says and family comes first." A radio clipped to his pants goes off,
"Bobby, where are you?"
"Travis, I got one of 'em. He's bleeding bad. Got 'em with my silver knife. But I only weakened him. Do you want me to finish him?"
"Leave him, Bobby. I'll handle it. Go find the girl."
He comes to. Or maybe he never passed out. He can hear Laura's voice next to him. "Hey why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
"Don't mind if I do." He stops a moment. "oh no. You've been bit."
Dylan takes use of the distraction and pulls out the knife, stabbing Bobby in the bicep. It's not deep but it will do.
"Ow. You stabbed me. Ain't never been stabbed before. DAAAAD!"
"Yeah. Hurts doesn't it?" Dylan shouts after him as Bobby retreats back into the house.
"What happened to you?"
"Hello, I was stabbed."
"You lost a lot of blood."
"But it will heal though, right?"
She examines him. Vet mode time. She cringed at that. Not the sight of the wound. She was going to have to get used to it. Vet mode? Don't be rude, Laura. He's not an animal. Well, technically, I guess we...both are?
"It looks like it stopped bleeding. That's a good sign. Yeah. I think it should. Only silver to the head or the heart seems to do the trick."
"How do you know that?"
She moves her hair out of the away ( part of it had fallen out of her ponytail) to reveal a bullet wound above her chest.
"Oh shit. Laura."
"I'm ok. He missed. On purpose. The old man..."
"You didn't..."
"No. Still alive. Unfortunately for us. But I kicked the crap out of him. Should buy us some time. Come on. We have to find Chris."
They reached the highest floor in the house. The attic. It wouldn't be long before they were found. He was leaving behind a trail of blood, even if it had healed mostly. It did seem like the bleeding had slowed.
"It will take a while for them to get to us up here. Just take a second to get your bearings. It should heal in no time."
"Yeah. Cool." He gave a shaky thumbs up.
"Do you...do you smell that?"
He lifted his head. "Yeah. What...what is that..." It smelled like wet dog and also...something else.
"I think...we found Chris Hackett."
He could see it clearly now. The figure hunched over in the center of the room.
"I can't believe you kept this from us. Ryan trusted you. We all did."
"Dylan. Be careful..." She grabbed his arm as he walked forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. But it was too late. The floorboards gave way and they were crashing through the floor again.
When Laura came to, she followed the trail of blood to the dinning room.
"No. Not now. C'mon, c'mon." But she could no longer fight it.
"Bobby the gun. " But Bobby was too slow.
Gargled sounds came from his throat as his own werewolf brother mauled him, the old woman and the old man next. Dylan raised the gun and fired right at Chris Hackett's head.
Werewolf Laura's mouth still gripped onto the cop's hand for a few seconds before she exploded back into human form. She let go of his hand, spitting the taste out of her mouth. She backed up from him. They stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment.
"Thanks for uh...not killing me."
"Likewise."
"So. It's over? Everyone's back to normal?"
"oh, you think this is over? It's not over."
She followed his gaze to Dylan, who was passing back and forth. Like he was in some sort of moral dalema after shooting their camp counselor. He had turned back to human form, blood still pooling from underneath his head.
Dylan still felt hot like he was running a fever. Something...something wasn't right. He tried walking off the pain but it was growing increasingly worse. He couldn't stay standing.
His mind is numb. His fingers ache. His skin burns with the distant heat of flames he can't see. He doesn't know where the gun is or when he dropped it.
He's hungry. So hungry. And yet it feels like his whole body is on fire.
"Dylan! Hey. Dylan, what's wrong?"
He put out a hand to stop her from coming any closer.
"Stay...stay back. "
"He's turning."
"what...that's not possible."
"Chris wasn't the one who bit him."
"Then who?"
"The white wolf." Dylan remembered the brief glimpse of it under the florescent lights. It's white leathery skin, streaked red with blood.
"Where?" The cop grabbed hold of him. "where'd you see it. "
"Travis! Hey, get off of him."
"The radio hut. A few hours ago."
"Ok." Travis let go of him and took a step back. "Ok."
"You have to...get out of here."
"No." Laura bent down beside him. "I'm not leaving you."
Was she crazy? She'd rather get herself killed over a complete stranger? She had to get out of her. Get to Max. At least one of them should have their happy ending.
"Go. Go NOW. You have to run..."
"We won't have enough time." The realization hit Dylan. He was right. There was no way he was going to be responsible for their deaths. He had already killed Chris.
"You have to do it." He looked at shotgun in Laura's hand. "Shoot me. You have to shoot me. " She looked at it too as if it was some venomous snake. She was more appalled than repulsed at his suggestion.
"What? No. I'm not going to kill you..."
Travis: We won't make it out in time.
"Do it. Just do it." He wanted the pain to end. "I will kill fucking you unless you shoot me. Please, just do it." A tremor goes through his entire body and he lurches again. His blackened veins are pressing against his skin, which is too tight. Too restrictive.
He wants out.
"I don't want to turn... I'll be okay, just shoot me, please."
"Dylan. . .I. . . I can't." She lowers the gun. His stomach drops with it.
Travis raises his own gun.
"Any last words?"
"Tell Ryan..I'm sorry.."
After struggling with Travis, he finally got her into his car. Who knew where he was taking her? They said not to let your abductor to take you to a second location. She was a witness to murder now. Two murders.
"It all makes sense now..."
"What does? You just murdered him in cold blood." What was she going to tell Ryan? She barley knew him, but she doubted that he was going to understand and believe her totally blameless. She had promised to keep Dylan safe.
"It was either him or us. He begged me to."
"So, what? That makes you better?"
"Would you have done it? Yeah, I didn't think so. My brother was a good man. He never meant to hurt anybody. But he wasn't the first. Kaylee, the girl you killed, her brother."
"Who bit Caleb?"
"Silas. He was a gypsy, transient...there were sightings up and down the coast. A feral albino child. We believed he fled the area until now. He was the one that ran you off the road two months ago."
"That's where you're taking me now? How did he get bit? Silas, your brother, Caleb? Damn it, Travis. After all this time you're still hiding stuff?"
"The past doesn't matter anymore."
"Yeah. It kind of does."
He tells her the story. The traveling side-show called Harum Scarum. There was this woman Eliza, kept her son in a cage. Silas, the dog boy, Kaylee wanted to free him. She convinced Caleb to create a distraction. Ever seen hay-bales catch fire? The whole thing was up in flames within seconds. Eliza, her whole crew, dead. Killed about a hundred people. Silas got free, biting Caleb in the process. Caleb had bitten Kaylee and Chris while Chris had tried to protect Caleb from her.
"You can shoot me if you want to. Go ahead." She pointed the shotgun at him for a moment but then lowered it. If he had wanted her dead, he wouldn't have put her in charge of it.
"We need to put an end to this."
"So, let's do it."
"Usually I have werewolves blood on me but I'm all out. We could be killed."
"Then, we better not fuck it up." They arrived at the place she and Max had driven off the road. "Whoa... I didn't see any of this. This is where I say the woman. The old woman."
"What woman?"
"I thought Max hit her. She was...something else. She whispered something in my ear...which now I know she was saying Silas!"
She saw a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. A woman screaming. Trying to lure them away?
"Did you see that?"
"Kind of wished I hadn't. " A moment of realization fell on Travis's face. "That's why we couldn't find this place. Why you didn't see it."
"She was hiding it." Concealing it somehow. Protecting Silas.
He was lying in the old remnants of his cage. Sleeping.
No. NOOOO!
He's just a boy. The whisper felt like it was close to her ear.
"Do it. What are you waiting for? Do it now you stupid girl!"
"He's just a boy."
"Do it!"
She had to fight it. It's just like with Chris. If she doesn't a lot more people will get hurt. A lot more people will die. It had already caused too much death. Dylan's would not be in vein.
She raised the gun and fired.
It jerked awake swinging it's claws. But they were too far out of reach. It slumped over. It's insides exposed. She wanted to get out of here before it returned to human form. But it was already too late.
Travis pulls up to the lodge. As they entered, Ryan rushes over to them. He realizes who's missing. "Where's Dylan?"
"Travis...Travis shot him. I couldn't stop him."
"What...what did you do?" Ryan lunged at Travis. It had to take Jacob and Nick to pull him off him.
"I didn't kill him. He's alive."
"What?" She saw him shoot him, point blank.
"It wasn't silver. " He turns to Laura. "You took my all my silver bullets."
"What...the hell man?" Now Laura was extremely pissed off. He had made her believe that he had killed Dylan. What kind of sick fuck does that?
"It was the only way to get you to come with me. I wasn't going to let you get killed. Where's Caleb."
Ryan: He's ok. He's safe."
Kaitlyn: Ryan. Where are you going?"
"To find Dylan."
"He could be anywhere." Kaitlyn said, fighting the urge to go look herself.
"Yeah. And I'm not going to wait around."
Travis: I can get a search party out here. In the meantime we're going to have to get our stories straight.
Requirement: This could also be used after the scrapyard and if Kaitlyn isn't alive.
6:30 AM | AUGUST 23-Dylan
Dylan wakes up sore, disoriented, and covered in blood.
Well, he doesn't so much "wake up" as he gets abruptly thrown into consciousness, hard ground pressing against his back, and pretty much naked. His shirt is mostly strips of fabric and his lower half has been reduced to nothing but boxers.
Um. What happened?
He shuts his eyes in an attempt to both lessen the pounding in his head and think about what was going on. He remembers having a bonfire with everyone. He was paranoid about something. . . A bear? No. It was. . .
A werewolf. Fuck! He turned into one of them, didn't he? Oh, shit, come on, Dylan, try to remember.
He left the group with Laura, to the creepy house...with the family from the Hills have Eyes.
Then. . . Shit. That's where things get fuzzy. He feels like he's hungover. And concussed. As if he's been run over. He lifts his head. Gold and orange colors glint off the horizon.
Sunrise.
His clarity is slowly coming back. He's anxious for sunrise. Why? What's he expecting to happen? Or maybe it's the fact that he doesn't know. But that's dumb. Why wouldn't he know what happens at sunrise? Fuck, his head is not catching up. His thoughts feel as foggy. He tries to stand but his legs feel like jello. He's able to take just a few steps.
"Oh, fuck," he catches himself from falling with a hand against a tree. He sees drag marks on the ground leading towards the bushes. He doesn't want to see what's behind them.
He's caked in so much blood he doubts he'd even be able to tell where his would stop and someone else's would begin. He can smell and taste the copper in back of his throat, almost chocking him. He's going to be sick. He can't. He won't. There's no way.
He hears rustling in the underbrush. He half expects it to be one of those things. They don't come out when the suns up. And he's back to normal so..either it's because of the sun or someone had killed the bastard that bit him.
He brings himself to look. A bear and a cub. The cub is half it's mother's size.
There ARE bears around here.
The cub freezes, staring at him. His body goes ridged as the other bear notices him too. He knows he's not supposed to run. He leans his back against the tree. He peeks his head around the width of the trunk. They're still staring at him, their hunches up. As if they're afraid to approach him. Till finally the mother bear nudges the cub along.
He lurches forward and his shoulder bounces painfully off a tree. He doesn't feel it. He can't breathe. He pushes forward and chants a desperate prayer in his head. He needs to know but he's so, so scared of what he'll find. If he finds nothing, is that good news? Will it make him feel better?
He won't find out.
He keeps walking. Has to keep walking. Maybe till he finds the main road?
He must have passed out. He feels cold despite the sun beating down on him. It blinds him. It must be noon by now or close to it. His head is still throbbing. Something wet trickles down his fingers as he shields his eyes. He realizes he's bleeding. He doesn't remember hitting his head.
A gently breeze picked up. He could hear the wind. His senses were in overdrive. He could hear the crunch of gravel. There must be a trail near by. The rustling of grass.
A mass of yellow fur comes barreling out of the shrubbery, inches from his face, barking and snarling. The dog is suddenly pulled back with a yelp.
"Down girl. Down. My goodness. I'm so sorry." The woman behind the dog, finally getting control over it, notices the state that he's in. "Oh my god! No don't get up. Here. " She retrieves a water bottle from her bag. "Drink it slowly. You're very dehydrated. Just take it easy. You might have a concussion. What's your name?"
He has a hard time remembering for a second. "Dylan. I'm one of the counselors from Hackett's Quarry summer camp."
"I'm Claire. Sunshine's never acted like this before. She's normally very friendly. I don't know what's gotten into her. But you're lucky you ran into me. I used to be a nurse. "
Someone calls the woman's name.
"Over here, Tom. He says he's one of the counselors from Hackett's Quarry."
The man appeared out of the tall grass. He looked about to be close to his sixties like the woman. They seemed to be a couple. She handed the dog over to him.
"Hackett's Quarry?" The man itched his mustache. "That's over more than a mile. What are you doing way out here? Were you hiking?"
"I was...have you seen the others?"
"Others? You were with friends? Nah. Didn't see no one's else. You got a nasty cut on your head there. " The old man seemed to becoming suspicious of him. "A lot of blood too.."
"He's dehydrated Tom. Head wounds bleed a lot...must've hit it off a tree branch or he could've fell." She takes out a cloth from her bag and has him hold it to his forehead.
Fell. He used that one before. That wouldn't explain the state of his clothes, which are pretty much shredded. "There was a bear..."
"They're more scared of people than you are of them. Bears up here usually leave people alone. "
"Can you stay with him while I call for help?" As she went to get up he grabbed her arm.
"Not him." He whispered to her. He didn't trust the man.
Old man appeared to have read the situation. "We got a satellite phone. I'll see if I can radio the rangers station." He walked back the way he came.
"Hurts."
"Where does it hurt. Your head?"
That was an understatement. It felt like his head had been cleaved in two and his body still felt like it had been run over. Every muscle ached and burned. Proof he had been walking for hours. But he had no memory of it.
He flinches when Sunshine pushes her wet nose against the palm of his hand.
Flashes of broken wood and teeth, and blood. Lots and lots of blood.
He rolled over on his side and vomited. Gravel pressed into the palm of his hand. He raised his hand to look at it, picking out the small pebbles, leaving indentations in his palm, littered with scraps and small cuts. The bite was now a long jagged scar, pale and puckered against his skin. Like it had been a week instead of several hours.
He didn't know how much time had passed when Tom returned with two rangers. Both of them young-ish guys. Maybe thirties.
"Young male. Possible head injury. Need to evacuate."
"What does that mean?"
Claire puts her hand on his shoulder. "Dylan. It's ok. You can't walk in your condition."
"What are they doing to do with me? " He sounds like he's guilty. Because he is. He killed someone.
"They're going to have to carry you out on a stretcher."
The men come back with a stretcher. One straps him in while the other lays a foil blanket over him. The rocking motion instead of making him feel nautious, pulls him toward sleep.
"Dylan. You need to stay awake and answer some questions."
Did they think he was guilty of something? Or was it just to keep him talking because of the head injury. They asked for his name, date of birth and his home address.
"Hackensack. That's New Jersey, right? You're far away from home."
So far away, from everything.
In the ambulance a female EMT took his blood pressure and his pulse.
"Have you found my friends?"
"We didn''t find anyone else. You hiked quite a bit from camp. I'll have someone call the rangers station to send someone out. We'll find your friends."
When they arrive at the hospital, an orderly takes over and wheels him into the emergency room. Bright lights and a paneled ceiling tiles roll by underneath him. A few beds lined the hallway. A few of the bodies in them groaned but he couldn't tell if they were his friends or not. One was an old woman with messy hair, restrained to the rails of the bed, muttering to herself. Probably a homeless woman. That could be him if he doesn't get out of here soon or doesn't hear from the others. What happened to them? How come no one has seen them? Or heard from them?
The orderly guides the bed behind a certain. A nurse hands him some hospital scrubs to change into and a bag for his clothes. Well the remains of his clothes. She gives him enough time to change. He slips it on over his boxers. He's not going to be bear-ass naked under this thing.
Once again he's asked his name and date of birth. The nurse prints off an ID bracelet and snaps it on his wrist.
Is that all that's going to be put around his wrist. Were handcuffs in his future? He's waiting for the cops to come and arrest him. After all who would believe his story? Isn't that usually how these things go? He supposed he could use the whole head injury thing but for how long?
But the longer he waits, they don't seem to be coming. The nurse rolls over a tray. "Let's get that stitched up and then we'll get your IV started." So he was going to be here for awhile.
She sprayed some numbing spray on his forehead.
As she stitches the cut on his forehead, he starts to feel an ache in his bladder.
Man, he really needs to pee.
"Um...where's the bathroom?"
"Paramedics said you have a head injury. You can't be going to the bathroom alone. I'll have an aide bring by a bed pan. In the meantime..." She hands him a cup. He knows what it's for.
"I have to go here?"
"We need a urine sample."
They wanted to test him for drugs. Sure they wouldn't find the THC in his system or the beer he had earlier. But talk about humiliating.
"Those boxers have to go too. I'll give you an extra gown. It ties in the back." As she whisks away, he peeks behind the certain. He spots his nurse is busy at a computer. Standing is a bit of a gamble, but Dylan makes it to his feet without collapsing, which is all he can really ask for.
He finds the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, taking the cup with him. Screw it. It would show that he was clean for once.
The door to the little room with a single toilet and sink closes behind him. All to himself.
Finally. Some privacy. He sighs with relief.
I hobble over to the sink. I put my hands under the water. I scrub them and my face with soap and water. The pink water swirls down the drain along with the dirt and grime and sweat I had caked on my for probably near twenty-four hours. It felt like an eternity. A life time ago.
I finally look up at my reflection. I don't recognize the person staring back.
skin deathly pale and eyes are sunken to the point where I may be a walking corpse.
Flashes of Abi's headless corpse Nick, (exploding into a werewolf) fill my head. I would never get that image out of my head.
My first thought wasn't to ask myself f if Nick was even still alive or how I would break the news to Nick. I wondered if my other friends had made it through the night. That had to account of something right? Nick. How could I face him knowing he...
I'm a killer myself. I killed someone. Could have killed someone and I have no memory of it. Like that was going to fly in the court of law these days. Even if I claimed not to remember due the convenient head injury, or plead temporary insanity, I'd still be found guilty in a court of law. I saw no way out of this.
I'm thinking about myself again.
I realize I hate myself. I really fucking hate myself. I should be fucking dead. If they're dead...
Oh God...
I let the hot tears gathering in my eyes spill over.
"Come on, Dylan. Get a hold of yourself. Stop crying. You fucking loser." I hear my father's voice in my head. The last thing that I want is him here. I finally able to get myself under control. I wipe my eyes and head back my bed.
The nurse stares at me, not happy.
"I really had to go. " Her expression didn't change. "I have a present for you." A peace offering. She hands it off to the lab tech. She releases the break off the bed and starts moving it away from the curtained off area.
"Where are we going?"
"If you hadn't noticed we're pretty swamped today. I don't have time to babysit you."
I'm taken to a room I get all to myself. The other bed is empty. She gets my IV started and draws my blood, not making eye contact. She's probably still pretty salty about my trip to the bathroom.
Before I can ask when I can see a doctor a man appears in the doorway. He says something to the nurse, who looks at me and then leaves the room. I think he's a doctor.
A social worker of course. I have no phone or wallet and I'm missing three hours of memory. Of course it was because I was a werewolf. If I tell them that they're going to think I'm nuts. But I'm also missing a chuck of time before I got to where I was when they found me and I ran into those two hikers. Hikers. The body Jacob had found in the lake was one of the missing hikers.
"Any history with alcohol or substance abuse?"
Yes.
I take too long to answer for his liking. He's looking at me with a puzzling expression.
"what...why are you asking me that?"
"It's just procedure with patients with memory loss."
"I wasn't drunk.." What would happen if I'd said yes.
"Self harm?"
Yes. But the moment I say it, they will treat me like some mental case.
"I just need to talk to my friends. I need to know if they're ok. Has anyone heard from them yet?"
"Um no. I could have someone call them for you if you'd like."
"I don't know their numbers." I wished I had gotten Ryan's number. I would have never imagined it would be for an entire different reason.
"Do you want to call your parents? You're over eighteen. You don't have to if you don't want..."
"No. Not...not yet."
A man in scrubs came in. "I'll be taking you to your CT scan."
It was a less than pleasant experience. He felt claustrophobic and felt like he was going to have a panic attack. Maybe he was having a reaction to the dye. They said it was normal reaction and just to relax. Like that ever helped anyone. He could hardly press the matter. The CT results would take a few hours. It was clear that he wasn't going home. He still needed to be monitored overnight.
When he woke it was nearly 7pm. Nearly seven or eight hours since they had found him. Three hours since 3AM and the three hours he had spent moonlighting, pun not intended, as a werewolf. Nearly twelve hours since...He still has no idea if he has killed one of his friends. If Ryan and Kaitlyn are ok. If any of them are ok.
The nurses speak in hushed whispers when they pass his room. There's cop in front of his door.
"There's someone here to see you." His nurse came in.
Dylan perked up and pulled himself up in a sitting position. His head twinging as he did so. He was met with disappointment when he saw who it was.
He was sitting in the chair on the right side of the room. Still dressed in his pressed suit. He had probably rushed out the door before on his way to work. He was the last person Dylan wanted to see but at least he wasn't alone.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired." He had so many questions but his throat was so dry, instead he asked, "Can I...can I get some water?"
The nurse poured him a glass but Duncan took it from her. "Here. I'll take that."
Dylan took a sip and cleared his throat. "Where...where are the others?"
"They'll be fine. They're only allowing family."
That makes sense I guess. They're probably questioning them right now.
"Where's Izzy?"
"She's with Mel at the studio." The yoga studio. "We didn't tell her anything yet."
"The doctor will be in to see you shortly. "
His stomach rumbled. Maybe loud enough for his nurse to hear. She peered at him through her half rimmed spectacles. "I'm sort of hungry. Can I get something to eat?" When was the last time he ate? The bonfire. Watermelon. Which he had vomited up at the sight of Abi's decapitated body. His stomach turned. Maybe eating wasn't a good idea.
"No nuts. He as a peanut allergy. " His father added.
"Kitchens closed. " She sounded like she was annoyed for a moment. "But for you...I can see what I can find."
"You're...not mad?"
"You got some spark in ya and I respect that. You remind me of one of my grandkids. Pullin a stunt on me like that." His father raised his eyebrows at her to him and looked back and forth.
"His little escape to the restroom when I told him to stay put. He thought he could pull one over on me and give me the slip. But if you pull something that again I will strap you to this bed myself."
"Fair enough."
"You still have a head injury. We don't want you falling. The alarm will go off if you try to get up. We don't want five or six residence rushing in here. Just use the page button if you need anything"
"Noted." So he couldn't sneak out of here even if he wanted to. That would make him look even more guilty wouldn't it? And certainly not with the cop outside his door. He couldn't tell if it was Sheriff Hackett.
She came back with a knock off Sprite, a sub sandwich, and cheese crackers. "Usually this is only for the nurses."
His appetite was suddenly back. Well, if this was his last meal before they carted him off to jail, he supposed it wasn't too bad. He was still a little weary. Why wasn't he being arrested or bombarded with questions yet? He wasn't handcuffed or strapped to the bed like that homeless lady he had seen.
He didn't mind his manners and 'wolfed' down the food. Opening the packaging with his teeth while holding it with one hand.
As the nurse left the room his dad let out a deep breath. "Jesus. What happened the hell happened Dylan?"
"There was a bear...I don't...remember."
He probably wouldn't believe him. No one would. They were interrupted by a knock and an Indian woman in a lab coat entered. His CT scan came back clear. There wasn't any bleeding or bruising on the brain.
"Ok, Dylan. " She rolls over to him on a stool. "Can you look up for me?" He does as she shines a penlight in his eyes. "Follow. Ok." She clicks it off and puts it back into her top pocket. "Any dizzy
"I feel a little dizzy."
"That's perfectly normal. Do you know what happened to you?"
"I don't remember hitting my head."
"That's ok."
"But I remember...We were...we were attacked by something. I don't know what it was..."
"A moment ago he said it was a bear. He says he doesn't remember."
He does. He does remember! Everything. Being chased all night by creatures that should only belong in nightmares. He WAS one of those things. Was he? Still? Had they tracked down and killed the white wolf before he...He could have killed someone...
Nick exploding into a bloody mess, tearing Abi's head off, it hitting the floor with a sicking thump, coating him in warm sticky blood. A gun shot. Kaylee Hackett dead, floating in the pool. That's not the order in which things happened but he remembers it.
The doctor's voice sounds far away.
"He still might be confused." He wasn't. He knows exactly what happened. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. But they'd think he was insane. He takes a pillow and holds to his chest, rolling over, drawing his knees up.
"That's normal for head injuries. Post traumatic amnesia."
"What's wrong with him?"
"It could be the result of the head injury or from witnessing a traumatic event. Or both. A part of his brain might be blocking out what happened to him, whatever he saw. Or something else could be going on."
"Something else?"
"I can consult with psychology to see if there might be some other underlining issue."
"No. No, that won't be necessary. He has a therapist. Can I take him home?"
"We want to keep him overnight to make sure there isn't reoccurring issues resulting from his head injury. Visiting hours are over at eight thirty. There's a motel down the road or I can have a bed made up if you decide to stay here."
"I'll stay here. The chair will be fine."
"I'll have a nurse bring you a blanket."
When they thought he was sleeping he heard hushed whispers. His father talking to his doctor.
"It's just a formality. He's not under arrest. They're going to want to ask some questions. Before that I will have to clear him first. And I don't think he's ready for that. He needs to progress everything he's been through. And he won't be able to do that until he's thinking clearly."
"They don't think it was a bear. They think someone did this to him? Why else would they be here? I wasn't born yesterday. The other counselors?"
"No word on them yet. They could've been brought to the station for questioning. When he was found, he wasn't with anyone else."