Chapter II: Death Comes Slowly

By Richard Davidson

Chad was uneasy about being alone in the woods behind the Wooden Ranch. Where did this mystery girl disappear to? He was going to turn back, and then he heard her call out to him.

"Hey, where'd you go?" she teased.

"Where'd I go? Where'd YOU go?" he sounded mildly annoyed.

"I'm right here."

And sure enough, he could make out her shape in the dark, just a few yards away. He walked towards her slowly, trying to be as quiet as he could, but his feet felt heavy, and as if reading his thoughts again, she said, "Making enough noise, Clumsy?"

"It's these damn boots."

And then she was leaned against him, whispering into his ear.

"There's something over there."

He heard a sick, low moaning, and his stomach flipped over a couple of times. Whatever it was, it was trying to avoid them, because as soon as they started walking towards it, they heard a panicked crashing of underbrush, moving off into the distance.

"What the hell is it?" Chad breathed nervously back at her.

"I don't know," she said calmly, and Chad thought he could see a smile on her face.

"Let's find out," she added, loving this.

They came to a spot by the stream, and through the trees a little moonlight could get through, enough that Chad could see some weeds that had been broken, and there was a dark spot on one of them.

"Wait a sec," he whispered, and knelt for a closer look. He touched the dark spot on the leaves, and felt a sticky, wet liquid. He was sure it was blood.

The woman knelt beside him, ran her finger across the sticky leaf, and put it in her mouth.

"It's blood alright," she murmured in a faraway voice.

The two knelt there together for just a moment, and all the sound in the world had stopped. Chad couldn't imagine what they were hoping to accomplish out here in the woods, and the fact that she had tasted blood bothered him, but he was strangely drawn to her.

"I don't even know your name," he said quietly.

"Puck," she answered with no hesitation.

"Puck?" Chad was amazed.

"Like that fairy, in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream?'" he asked dazedly.

"Yes, I guess so, now that you mention it," she almost laughed, "like 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.'"

"Is that your real name?"

"It's the name I go by."

"That's not an answer."

"Sure it is."

Chad was somehow disappointed. He had hoped her name was Catherine, or Margaret for some reason, and he had a feeling that maybe it was. Who was this strange woman, who would go off into the dark woods with a total stranger, and put blood to her lips without question? His head was swimming, either from the combination of cold beer and warm tequila, or the bizarre events of this warm summer night. He wondered what it was that they were stalking, and then he realized just how quiet it was all around them.

"It stopped," he said uneasily.

"What stopped?" she asked, as if she didn't know.

"That crashing."

"Oh," she answered, and hesitated a few seconds before adding, "it's still out there."

"I think we should head back, it's getting late," Chad surprised himself by saying.

"No you don't," she had a point.

"You want to know just as badly as I do what was making that moaning sound, and getting blood all over these woods, or have I misjudged you?" her head tilted to one side as she asked him.

"I think it's right over this way," she indicated the direction by starting to walk that way.

No sooner had she started to walk, than the crashing started again, just a few yards ahead of them. They continued in this manner for some time, and every time they would stop, so would the crashing, and every now and again they heard that same low moan.

Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be able to move very fast, and Chad was stifling his urge to run towards it, and jump, and grab whatever it was, to engage it in mortal combat. Somehow he knew that wasn't such a good idea though, and he decided he would just walk along with Puck, for God knows what reason.

"It's Mary," she whispered suddenly.

"What?" Chad was surprised.

"My name. I was christened Mary, but since I've been a very little girl I've been known as Puck."

He knew it was some Catholic name, but he didn't know how.

"Not for the reason you might think, though," she answered the unasked question.

"I used to play goalie for the school hockey team, and I was very quick. They never got any pucks past me, not for the entire school year. I think that was third grade."

"I had several teeth knocked out, but they were baby teeth, and I stopped being such a tomboy by Junior High. I guess I discovered boys."

"Yeah, I'll bet," he thought to himself, remembering how she had stood out in The Wooden Ranch, shimmering in the hazy bar light, attracting men without even so much as moving, like moths to a flame. He tried to picture this beauty playing hockey as a little girl, blonde pigtails bouncing behind a battered goalie mask, and for some reason, it made him smile.

"I'm sure it's some kind of animal, maybe even an old dog," she breathed into his ear.

"Here's some more blood, and judging by the amount it's losing, it doesn't have long to go. An injured dog will often go off by itself to die, somewhere it can't be seen by people. Someplace where death comes slowly."

Chad heard the moaning again, and this time it was only a few feet in front of them, but it was so dark that he could see nothing. He thought they had come to the base of a cliff, or a bluff, and then he realized wherever they were, they had probably cornered it. Chad knew cornering a wounded animal, if that's even what they had been stalking, wasn't a good idea, and could be quite dangerous. He tried to stop, but he tripped on a branch and fell forward, and as he fell, he heard a cry that curdled his blood, and then a growl, and then he felt teeth sinking into his flesh.

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