Shay Sheridan - Dark Side of the Moon

Where to look?
Virginia paused by the 79th Street entrance of the park. The sound had come again, from this direction, but how could she possibly hope to find Wolf even if he WERE here, even by the considerable light of the full moon? And how crazy would she have to be to go into the park by herself at night to look for him?

She paced the sidewalk that ran alongside the park, leaving the lighted plaza of the Met behind her, not daring to venture into the park proper. Oh, this was hopeless! She didn’t even really know that Wolf WAS in the park! Maybe she should have tied him up after all — at least she’d know where he was.

Or maybe she should just let him do his wolf thing and come home when it was over.

No way. He’d get killed, she knew it.
Or HE’D kill --
No, no, nothing good could come of thinking like that.

She walked slowly in a downtown direction, paralleling the park, pausing every so often to look over the wall. Occasionally she’d enter, walk in about twenty feet or so, and call his name, but she heard nothing in reply and the darkness spooked her. She cursed herself for not even bringing a flashlight, though she doubted she would have had the nerve to go deep into the woods to use it. When had she become such a coward? She was a New Yorker, dammit, fearless and tough and --

Bull. She’d been foolish to ride her bike through the park on the way to work, she knew that now. Hell, last time she did so she’d been knocked over by an enchanted dog, and look what THAT had led to --
trolls and curses and poison and pain and...

Well, Wolf.

All those other times, those years, riding her bike through the park, she hadn’t ever imagined that anything could happen to her, really. Why should she, when her life wasn’t real? What had there been to lose? Now — she felt her throat close with emotion — now there was everything to lose. And now she was too afraid.

No. She couldn’t be afraid. There was no time for fear. She set her jaw.

Looking around, Virginia realized with surprise that she’d already crossed 65th Street. Still there’d been no sign of him. He could be anywhere in the city by now, though she felt strongly that in his present condition he’d gravitate to the woods. She HAD to go in, had to look for him properly.

There was a large building on her right, where the park offices were housed, and the area around it was brightly lit by ornate lampposts. Maybe she’d go into the park here, where it was relatively public, then venture further in. Yes, that seemed like a plan. Virginia descended the staircase to the level of the path, and resolutely turned into the park. Surprised, she recognized where she was, near the entrance to the zoo. Her father had taken her there many times as a child, and she still remembered staring at the famous, crazy polar bear who swam in his pond in endless circles. They’d had to give the bear some kind of therapy, she recalled reading, to cure its obsessive-compulsive behavior.

Which, or course, made her think of Wolf.

A strong gust of autumn air pulled at her, and she gathered her trench coat more closely around her. It was getting cold out, and under the coat she was only wearing the ridiculous pinafore apron over her jeans. Suddenly she wondered if, wherever he was, Wolf had a coat. He’d been feverish when she’d last seen — touched — him. Great. Something else to worry about.

The front gate of the zoo should have been closed, but it stood open, and a uniformed guard waited by the turnstiles. In the background she could hear music. Virginia paused. She didn’t really want to go into the zoo — she needed to search the more remote areas. And if Wolf had come this way, she knew the guard wouldn’t be sitting there calmly drinking coffee. She turned to her left, going deeper into the park.

And then a horrible sound stopped her — a sound of terrified animals shrieking, bleating, screaming, and it froze her in her tracks. She turned in time to see the guard drop his coffee, curse, and grab a radio from his belt. A moment later he took off down the pavement, away from the gate.

She waited a moment, indecisive over what to do. But that sound — ! She hated to think it might have something to do with Wolf, but...

She pushed through the turnstile, unchallenged, and walked briskly towards the sound.

Wolf sat on the ground, leaning against a tree. His mind was filled with vivid images of violence: tearing flesh, blood, the moon, terrified eyes, bones crushing, more blood. He no longer felt the devastating hunger that had driven him, but other feelings had begun to stir. He held up his hands in front of his eyes, and saw that they were covered with blood. His shirt, too was soaked in it. He knew it wasn’t his own. He groaned. It had happened again.

It was an old, familiar scenario. Over and over again since he’d reached puberty--his time in prison excepted-- he’d awakened during the full moon to evidence of his own violent actions. The pull of the moon blanked him out nearly completely, sometimes for close to 24 hours. But during those hours there would be occasional periods, brief though they were, when he’d come back to himself, when the feelings of self-hatred would begin. It always happened this way. He couldn’t even enjoy being a wolf, when he felt such guilt for behaving like one. Such disgust for what he’d done.

Or what he feared he’d done. Frankly, he rarely had any idea, except from the evidence left behind. In Little Lamb Village he hadn’t really, TRULY, one hundred per-cent, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die, known if he’d killed Sally Peep or not, until it had been proven he hadn’t.

At least this time he knew it had been a four-legged animal; he could tell from the smell of the blood. Wolf looked at the moon, hating it. There were still hours before it would set. There was only a short time, he knew, before it might overtake him again. He needed to clean himself up, act tike a human being, try to get home and convince Virginia to tie him up --

Virginia!

Oh, he was bad, bad, bad! All this time, and Virginia was lying there, maybe DYING! His mate! And he’d forgotten her!
This was worse than he’d imagined. He’d let her down. Maybe even let her die.
SHE COULD BE DEAD. THE CUB COULD BE DEAD.
He howled — he couldn’t help himself.

It was a terrible, plaintive sound, and it raised the hackles on all who heard it.

“Jesus, Mary and — what the hell happened here?”

The guard looked shaken, and the small group gathered around the pen made noises of distaste, disgust, fear.

Virginia crept in among them, careful to stay tucked in the shadows. As the people shifted their positions, she caught glimpses of what was in the paddock — two very nervous, bleating goats at the far wall and some kind of animal — or what was left of it, lying in the middle. And blood. Everywhere. Her stomach turned.

A zoo park ranger was climbing into the pen. “Nothin’ much left, the head — looks like the carcass got dragged away. That way.” He pointed and Virginia slunk back further.

A man in a tuxedo wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “What do you think it was?”
And then, with a nervous giggle, “Anything running around loose here, Ronnie?”

The ranger shook his head. “Only these and the llama. Don’t worry. I suppose it could be a coyote. They’ve seen them as far south as Van Cortlandt Park --”

“A coyote? Are you kidding?”

The ranger shrugged. “I’m just guessing. I can’t imagine one making it into Manhattan, but I suppose it’s possible. I wouldn’t rule out some sicko --”

Then they heard it, a low, mournful howl from deep inside the zoo.

The guard looked around nervously. “Should we, should we go after it?”

“I wouldn’t, not in the dark. Besides, if it ate, it’s not gonna be hungry again tonight.” He climbed out of the pen and crossed to the man in the tux. “I’ll get the guys to make sure everything else is locked up. And I’d wind up your party ASAP, just to be safe.”

“For heaven’s sake, Ronnie, I’ve got the Mayor here --”

“Yes sir, well, I didn’t vote for him. It won’t bother me if somethin’ eats him.”

“I just wish I knew what it was.”

Virginia shivered. She knew.

GET UP, WOLF!
He stopped his howl, whimpered once and shook his head. He had to get up, keep moving. He rose slowly, fighting the lethargy that always followed the adrenaline rush. His legs were uncertain under him, and though his stomach was almost painfully full, his head felt light.

There was a small man-made pond up ahead, and Wolf sank down next to it, unbearably thirsty. He drank, then washed off the bloody reminders of his hunt as best he could. The water was cold, and now that his shirt, neck and hair were wet he began to shiver in the chilly air.

He looked at his reflection in the water. By the light of the enormous moon he saw his dirty, disheveled image and was filled with disgust. But the moon stared back over his shoulder, not reproaching him, instead singing a soothing, soundless, tuneless song, and by and by he didn’t feel quite so guilty, didn’t think about what he’d done, and began to feel quite numb.

NO! WAKE UP! PAY ATTENTION!
He gritted his teeth, trying to stay focused..
But it’s SO BEAUTIFUL!
No it’s not, it’s BAD!
It’s not bad, YOU’RE bad --
NO! It’s the moon!
He had to stay in control, or he’d forget who he was again.
Forget about Virginia.

Wolf ran, only to discover there was no escape. Everywhere he went he found his way impeded by a wall topped with a fence that was itself crested with evil, painful-looking wire.
TRAPPED!
He could feel himself begin to hyperventilate, and though the sky was open above him the feeling of the walls closing in was powerful. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see the walls, and tried to take stock.
BE CALM, BE CALM, YOU’RE OK, YOU’RE --
LOST!
YOU’RE LOST!
NO WAY OUT!
He had no idea where he was. He had no idea where Virginia was. He couldn’t get to her, couldn’t save her, his mate, the only person who cared if he lived or died.

He slid down against the bark of one of the artificial trees. He was cold, so cold. There was an opening in the tree, and instinctively he backed into it, seeking shelter. He curled up on the floor, wet and shivering and unhappy and wept for his miserable state.

Virginia was alone. The park ranger and his team had swept through the buildings near the paddock, shutting away animals, checking locks, bolts, bars. The tuxedo-clad man and his cronies had disappeared towards the sound of an orchestra which had since stopped playing, and now she could hear voices moving toward the entrance of the zoo. The guard, with a last scared look over his shoulder, vanished towards the gate. Clearly everyone was taking the attack seriously. And here she was, alone.

But not really alone. Animals stirred, whinnied, bleated softly, lowed and cooed in their separate shelters. They seemed restless, which enhanced Virginia’s nervousness. What if she was wrong? What if there was a, a coyote or something?: Or a crazy, twisted human being with a machete?

Or, and this was even more unsettling, what if it really was Wolf? If he was capable of doing this, how could she really know what he’d do to her?

This was not what she wanted to be thinking.

By this point Virginia had passed right through nervous, spooked, frightened and terrified, and was beginning to feel numb. Numb is good, she thought. Numb lets you do stupid things. Like stalking your half-animal boyfriend through a deserted zoo after midnight, when he may or may not be capable of, or prone to, ripping your throat out. Well, gee, that didn’t sound SO bad, when she put it that way...Cripes!

She kept to the path that wound its way through the Petting Zoo, peering intently into the shadows. The moon was very bright, and her eyes got used to the darkness. She could see fairly well, except for the very darkest areas. Not as well as an animal could see, of course; their eyes were suited to hunting in the dark --

She banished that thought, and instead picked up her pace. She passed the aviary, but no birds were stirring. They, too, had been locked up tightly, away from whatever had killed the goat. There were small hut-like buildings on both sides, one of them designed to look like Noah’s Ark, but there were heavy bolts on all the doors. And then she reached the end of the path, which dead-ended in an empty pen against the zoo’s outer wall. No Wolf.

Virginia looked around, now desperately troubled. If that had been his howl, which she assumed it was, then where WAS he? She looked up suddenly, scanning the trees. No, wolves don’t climb trees, she reasoned. They’re not cats. Oh, God, maybe it had been a bobcat — No, no, that had definitely been a howl.

There was something odd about several of the trees — a couple of them, placed across the path from each other, had such large diameters that they reminded her of the Huntsman’s lair back in Wendell’s kingdom. They were as big as California redwoods, though they appeared dead, their upper limbs cut off. And since when did redwoods grow in New York? She tapped one trunk and squinted at it. Even in the shadowed light she could see it wasn’t made of wood at all, but some kind of heavy plastic, or fiberglass. Huh — a fake.

This wasn’t helping. She had no idea what to do. It was possible, she thought, that he had scaled the wall and escaped, though, looking at it, it seemed terribly high and terribly lethal with that ribbon of wire at the top. Virginia sighed bleakly. “Oh, Wolf. Where are you?” Her voice sounded loud in the stillness.
She turned, shoulders slumping, and started back the way she’d come.

It wasn’t really a sound she heard, just a whisper of one. There was a lull in the traffic beyond the wall, and in that moment Virginia thought she heard something -- something like heavy breathing, or sighing. Or a whimper. But where...? She tilted her head, trying to follow the sound, unaware of how animal-like her posture had become. There — there it was again, from somewhere low....around one of the massive plastic redwoods.

She didn’t see the opening at first, because it lay on the shadowed side, and she walked completely around the tree and had to backtrack to pick up the sound again. On the dark side of the tree one shadow seemed deeper than the rest, and when she put out a hand at waist level she found there was a child-high opening in the trunk. Something — someONE — was in there, breathing stertorously but rhythmically, whimpering a little as he did so.

Virginia’s pulse raced, but she made herself crouch down by the opening. “Wolf?” Nothing. An icy finger of fear traced down her spine. If it is a sicko with a machete, that’s all folks -- she thought crazily. She spoke again, a little louder. “Wolf? Are you in there?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from within the tree. She knew that sound — Wolf made it every time he was taken by surprise. There was a moment when she heard nothing. And then her heart lurched as two amber eyes opened and glowed at her from within the pitch black of the tree’s hollow.

“Wolf — God! You frightened me...Wolf?”

“Virginia?” The voice was raspy, but unmistakably his. “Virginia...” His voice faded away, replaced by snuffling noises.

“Oh, Wolf, don’t cry, come out, I’m here — “ Her words were cut off as two cold hands lunged out of the opening, grabbed her arms and pulled her into the tree.