"I hate hospitals." Lucky Rival said softly as he stalked the corridor alone, trying to be careful but on nights like these caution could be thrown at the wind easily with a cache of ammunition pointed in one direction and one direction only.
These quiet nights presented nothing except confusion. A catalog of who is who under the full moon—that thing, the one that a cow jumped over, he reminded himself, grinning unsatisfactorily at the tale.
"I hate full moons too." Lucky thought. "The fact is the damn thing pays the bills. All of the bills, so I guess I fall back on something to change what I just said into, wow, I love the damn thing. It's what comes out at night after a month of daily phases around Earth and it's live stock is never full even if it is."
Lucky Rival, never imagined himself as a hunter. His father did it. His siblings, two sisters and a brother. Did it.
Their father wanted them to know that the coast of North Carolina wasn't just salt water fish and shrimp surrounded by weekends of beans and okra on a beautiful day in July, satisfied by a condensated glass of iced lemonade. He wanted them to know that there are other animals to seek for food and sport. Lucky Rival didn't care. He hated rifles, bullets, shells, and shell casings because he had to bend to clean them up whenever they got together to go over the years hunting schedule. For his family, there was nothing like a few days of shoot outs in the yard after going over the measures of having a good hunting season. It was a trip Lucky Rival could live without. There were no dogs, no insect repellent, no attractant, there was nothing to symbolize game heading their way or tracking it. His family adored it as he always drank up the sun with a cold dip in the river. His dad would just look at him and smile while shivering in the Autumn breeze. His siblings would laugh hysterically from stepping into the cold water, barefooted, and then hurrying out of it because they knew winter wasn't far away. They never understood how he could stand the cold.
He hunted with his family although he couldn't wait to get home. A stroll around the neighborhood was way better than cleaning up the same trampled hunting ground every year.
The hospital corridor lights flickered.
"Damn," Lucky Rival mumbled. "These things can make a mess."
No one was alive as he crept the hallway. The ventilation hummed.
"The quiet is killing me." He said, trying to keep his focus off of the smeared animal tracks that littered the floor.
The body count rose as he passed room after room of bodies. Some with roommates. Others with help, ripped apart at bedsides, window panes, and torn across thresholds.
Any other day, walking the hospital corridors would have taken eternity to reach the end, but getting past rooms of dismembered bodies was simple this time, Lucky Rival thought, noticing how fast he cleared the place.
He gripped his weapon as he looked both ways before crossing over to complete the corridor. Both ways, empty. Quiet too. It was straight ahead that was dressed in death. The outfit of continuation of what was behind him made advancing forward easier. It was the quiet calm of the place, where most of the dead end up, that rattled his young bones.
The corridor glistened in blood. The straight flat walls were the same as those behind him, marred with streaks of red that made determining the marks difficult to read. Lucky Rival could read them. He had covered some of them up before. More than one time in his neighborhood, at his house and a friends.
They weren't human and even though he gave up precious moments learning the secrets of a prosperous hunt, he knew that bears climbed trees, not houses. His father didn't talk much about what made those marks instead he declared that hunting game for any reason was no longer a traditional event in the family. Whatever made those marks scared his dad. "The woods are closed." His dad said.
And the children didn't listen.
Creek Dams Forest was quieter that day. It was a bit unusual for the Rival clan, being without their dad, no one paid attention to the surroundings of the forest. All was silent. An occasional owl somewhere in the forest echoed it's question without asking, before the sun set. Any other animals were either too far away to be heard or scampered away as the youthful voices got too close.
The full moon was high before they knew it. Skipping rocks and playing in the river—doing more fishing with a makeshift rod and the hope that the meat used to make their sandwiches would bring them a great catch, made the sun set faster. Other than a nibble, no one got a shot at anything.
The ground of the forest was always covered. The path in and out of the woods was walked down enough that grasses were slow to grow on it.
"What is it?" Lucky Rival asked his brother, whose face had darkened in the flashlight as he watched the river bank.
"I saw something move." He whispered. Scared.
Their sisters heard him.
"Let's go, Lucky." The oldest girl demanded. "I don't care what time it is. It's dark. The moon is up and it's creepy out here without dad." She said. Looking around. "Where is Babe?" She asked.
Lucky cocked the rifle. "Babe!" He shouted. And then listened for his baby sister to respond.
The forest, river, his own breathing answered. Babe was gone.
"There she is! In the water!" Their brother exclaimed, pointing the flashlight at the body floating face up, in Creek Dams River.
"Take this! I'll get her!" Lucky said, handing the rifle to his sister, who immediately guarded her family with it.
Lucky Rival sank waist deep in the slow moving current and waded out, almost swimming to grab their baby sister.
"Babe!" He exclaimed over and over until she was in his arms.
"Lucky!" His older sister screamed from the river bank. Perilous shock for his baby sister turned into dreadful fear at the sound of his older sister screaming his name. He looked at the flashlight as it fell to the ground. There was no one to scream now as he fought his way, with Babe, back to the river bank.
Shining the flashlight into the forest revealed no one as he called for them. His own cries of fear and bewilderment was what he heard. Dropping to the ground, he shone the flashlight on Babe. Her body is shredded.
"Help!" Lucky Rival yelled into the full moonlit sky.
Along the bank of the river, something growls.
It could be a bear he thought and reached for the rifle while keeping the flashlight steady at the stems of tall river grass, grown in thick patches along the river bank, that anything or anyone, could use for cover.
"Who's there?" He shouted, fumbling with the rifle in one hand and keeping the flashlight calmly in the other. He knew he wasn't a perfect shot and that handling the flashlight suited him better as memories of how to handle hunting gear came to his mind. But now, he was alone with his dead baby sister nearby and his other siblings lost in the forest—the animal growled as it moved, exposing a large black shape, coming towards him. He figured that if he dropped the flashlight he couldn't see and would be shooting in the dark. If he dropped the rifle, he still wouldn't be able to shoot. His chest tightened as the odds for a pleasant outcome seemed less possible as the seconds counted away.
Breaking free of the river grass, the creature continued towards him. It's gaze seemed to see the boy behind the flashlight. It stared at him, panting anxiously.
Lucky Rival was used to Darteret wildlife. The deer. The rabbit. The red and black lady bugs.
"That is no bear." He whispered, frozen in the flashlight sight of the beast.
It howled, shaking him beyond anything he had ever known. He knew now what happened to his family and that he was next. He let go of the flashlight. Picked up the rifle without thinking and squeezed the trigger.
"I'm stuck." A voice admitted, making straining grunts of attempted escape.
Lucky opened his eyes and picked up the flashlight then returned to the animal. Fresh blood shining brightly in the light, dotted the ground. The beast was no where to be seen.
"Help me Lucky." A girl said, trying to pull herself free of the muddy patch of river grass she was stashed in. "I think it's gone."
"Candace?!" Lucky said, peering into the smashed path of the animal to see his sister wrestling with her legs embedded in the softness of the river bank. Whatever it was didn't mind playing in mud, Lucky said to himself after seeing the muddy area that she was in compared to other parts of the river bank.
"Max is with me. He's breathing." She said, still trying to release herself from the grip of the mud puddle.
"Breathing." he said, shining the flashlight in every direction he could before going to help his family. The thing had disappeared into the forest.
He ran to his sister and dragged her out of the mud. They both carried their brother, to their sister and laid him down next to her, gradually waking him up.
Huddled over their baby sibling, they cried mournfully as something howled deep inside the forest—this corridor isn't as quiet. Lucky Rival thought, bringing himself out of childhood and back into reality.
The patient monitors made it through the hellish ravish of bodies that lay in wait for consumption by something that Lucky Rival was very familiar with. He realized that what monitors stayed active would mean more hell to pay but at least it wouldn't be tonight. Any other beeps were probably the push button beds offline because of too much pressure weighting them down, these things love to climb and beds filled with sick people were easier to climb into than beds without them. Food for the masses. Lucky was happy that hospital intrusions didn't happen often.
He looked at the corridor lights as they flickered and then went out. Everything stopped working including the hum from the ventilation ceased. He stopped in the dim hallway and waited for the emergency lights to activate. Nothing happened.
He exhaled quietly, careful not to make any sudden noises. He moved slower in the dark. Slipping in a blood trail would create a major problem. Those things are fast and on the loose, they all are, he smirked, thinking about a trip to the west coast, maybe Hawaii. He kept himself planted after each step. The thought of this lucrative opportunity warmed him. It was a job. Beast hunting or apprehending dangerous beasts that are not for human consumption and nobody wanted the job, however, his childhood groomed him for it—capturing the monsters that eat people. Tigers, lions, bears, sharks, etc. didn't have a chance of ever making that list of things that eat people.
That night at the river, losing his baby sister to a dog the size of a fully grown bear, dug out his core being of nonchalant activity and replaced it with the desire to find these monsters not to destroy them but to understand them.
The glass end of the corridor filled up with black. Lucky stopped as it stayed there blocking as much light as something that size could. He knew where it's eyes were he just couldn't see them. He noticed the pointy ears moving, absorbing as much sound from the area as they could. He heard the scrape of it's claws on the floor as it dashed towards him without warning.
"This time," Lucky Rival said, raising his weapon to face the galloping beast in the hospital corridor. He didn't hear anything else except for his own breathing and his own voice. "I don't understand." And released a single shot in the direction of the animal, dropping it, instantaneously.
The lights flickered. He went to it and looked at the black and bloody body that lay dead, he hoped.
"I never told anyone this," Lucky Rival said, continuing to eye his prize. "But I hate werewolves too."