The Story Teller

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The engine made a sound as if it had were coughing up a hairball and died. It was just another thing heaped upon a whole day of negative, frustrating, and hateful events.

The one continuously hateful event, the one he married, had to have her say as well.

"If you had the car checked over…" His wife turned on the overhead light and checked her lipstick."… as I suggested, this would not have happened."

"Thank you Darling. You are of course, right, as usual. I should have had it looked at."

The subservient agreement and the 'I'm sorry I'm alive' response normally shut her up, but not this time.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me!" She turned off the light and situated herself on the edge of her seat to optimize the appearance of her disapproval. "We are on the top of a mountain, in the middle of an uninhabited national forest, in the middle of the night. You are an ass, Sam! Before my father gave me this car it was in perfect condition. My father took excellent care of this car. It was almost new, you have neglected it, and it has turned into a heap. You know what my daddy thinks of you and I agree with him. I should have listened to him. Why did I ever marry you?"

Sam quietly opened the door, climbed out and closed it lightly as not to start another tirade. He walked to the front of the car and opened the hood, there was nothing to see in the dark hole of the engine compartment, other than the steam rising and the ominous hiss, sounding as if the engine had turned itself into a large snake. He turned his face to the full moon and gathered himself. He had to get the flashlight, with the other hissing creature in the car. Reaching across Doris was, indeed, like sticking your hand in snake pit. The flashlight was in the glove compartment and such a dangerous task would take his full concentration. He pulled out his wallet checking for his driver's licenses, one for Sam James and one for Cliff Bennings. He liked the name Cliff. It was Cliff, in a manner of speaking, who thought through every part of Sam's plan. Sam went over it in his mind. The exercise calmed him down dramatically.

Doris had lit a cigarette; a habit she had given up a hundred times in the sixteen years, nine months, twenty-three days, twelve hours, and nine minutes of marriage that Sam had endured. He opened the door and Doris hissed her asp-like contempt with an exhaling of used smoke. Sam, well prepared, pretended not to notice. Her smoking would have her lose weight, again, something about which he could care less. The only familiarity they now shared was the game they played, a badly written play, practiced and edited each and everyday. The male character was the idiot-buffoon; the female character was the delightful creature, seated in the passenger seat, who always knew what was right.

Doris speaks:

'…and I'll tell you something else. If that rinky-ding joke of a construction company, you own, even made a semblance of a proper living I would not be as bitchy as I am. That's your fault, I have the right to be happy. I deserve it. I wasn't like this before I met you. I should have married Teddy he started a computer business and is worth a bundle. We, Teddy and me would have a brand new Caddy like the one my brother and his horrid wife just bought. He works in construction too, but he finished college and went to work for a prestigious and trusted company. You couldn't get a job schlepping lumber even with my brother's recommendation. He makes more than you ever will with your company and you own the damn company, for god's sake. What a loser you are. My brother's wife is a slut and doesn't deserve or appreciate what my brother gives her. I'll never say a word, though, because I'm not a judgmental person."

Doris said all her lines with practiced precision, including the puffing on her cigarette between the lines, with a dramatic flair ala Betty Davis.

Sam smiled, grit his teeth, and reached across Doris, opening the glove compartment. The flashlight was one of those high-tech types. When he switched it on, it brightly blasted the night around him.

"I'm freezing!" Doris announced.

"I brought a blanket for you… its in the back seat."

The light pierced; the steam continued to erupt from the engine area. On closer examination Sam discovered that a freeze plug had rusted out. He leaned back with his hands on his hips and grunted. It looked as if the Smith's summerhouse, somewhere up in these mountainous elevations, was not going to be their destination tonight. He turned and breathed in the rich aroma of pine. The full moon cast a silvery glow over the night and allowed a fantastic view of the canyon below. For the first time he heard the rush of the river as it cascaded down the mountain, swollen from snowmelt. An ancient glacial decline left a steep gorge filled with huge boulders and sheer drops that formed violent rapids and cascading waterfalls. Sam thought of how beautiful this scene must be in the full light of day.

That’s when the perfect thought came to him, a clear, delicious, and wonderful thought. His pleasure was cut short when he heard a deep threatening growl off to his left. He stood absolutely still and waited for it to repeat. It didn't.

"What now Sam…" Doris yelled from the car window."…you don’t know a thing about cars, so why pretend?"

Sam wondered how it was that she didn't hear that gruesome roar. If she had she would be whining in terror.

"We overheated."

Sam knew that would work. He had disengaged the temperature gauge and Doris knew it. He had told her he didn't have the money to fix it at the shop. She thought he had tried to fix it himself, but failed; exactly what Sam had wanted.

Doris pulled out her cell phone and punched in some numbers without a pause in her persistent monologue.

"My father says that you are the most unhandy man he has ever met. Christ, I even have to call my Dad to fix the garbage disposal. A stopped- up toilet sends you running for the hills. You can't even hang a picture straight. How in the hell do you build houses and who in the world would buy them? Damn…I can't get a signal out." She threw her cell phone down in disgust." Now what, hot shot?"

Sam knew that the cell wouldn't work up here. He just leaned against the car, he begin to believe that he must have imagined the growl. Just the same, to be on the safe side, he needed to get the pistol he had stashed in the trunk.

"Life is a miraculous thing." He said quietly to himself.

Smoke poured out of the window. Sam turned to look in the car as Doris wrestled the blanket around herself without dislodging the cigarette.

He had planed it for so long, being a clever man, it wasn't hard to play at being inept and weak. It didn't take Sam long to figure out the true nature of his wife. She was obliging and fun while they dated because she thought him wealthy. The wedding was the embarkation point for his trip into hell. Two months later the plan started taking shape. He began to play the fool, allowing himself to be whipped and berated by Doris and her pompous and ridiculous family. He was a small, conservative, well-respected Builder and had kept most of his business secret. With the cunning of an international Banker he was able to stash more than a million dollars offshore. He had sat up late, long after Doris had gone to bed, working out every detail of his plan. He would claim he was worrying ways to pay his men on the coming Fridays. Doris would always make a knowing clucking noise and go up to bed.

Now, it would seem, the universe agreed with his intention. What else would explain the synchronicity? He started to laugh.

"What's so funny? You idiot! How are you gonna get us out of here?" Doris screeched.

"My phone doesn't work up here."

"Just a joke…one of my clients…about a couple lost in the woods."

"I don't care about any firkin joke. I'm scared and all I have to protect me is you. Imagine how I feel?"

"Sorry Dear. I think if we let the car cool down it will start up. I have water in the trunk."

"Imagine that, you thinking ahead."

Sam walked back to the trunk smiling. His plan was to pretend that he had to work late, he would call Doris, she would get angry and slam the phone down on him. He would call back and leave a message. That would establish time and the thread of an alibi. He had always had entry and video security in his office and warehouse. The system was connected to a police alert company. Sam always had it on for security reasons and as part of his plan. He was robbed the year before and to Sam's gleeful, but hidden satisfaction, the police were all over the building. It was Sam who had paid a small time crook to fake the phony robbery. The masked and unidentifiable man was, of course, never caught.

Part one was completed.

Sam would then doctor a tape and make a seamless video of him working long into the night. He would go rent a car from a drug dealer he helped capitalize and befriended, that same car he would drive and park a block away from his house. He would disguise himself as a burglar and break in the back downstairs slider. He then would steal something from himself making just enough noise to waken Doris. The police would not respond quickly. The slightly higher fees for the security system helped fund the local police retirement fund, house calls were free. Doris, in a panic, would call him on his cell phone. He would drop the car at a prearranged spot where his car would be waiting. He would go home and comfort his dear wife.

Part two would be completed.

"Doris I think I saw an Emergency Phone down about two miles back. I'm going back to see if I can find it. I won't be long."

Sam slammed down the trunk after he put the pistol, secreted under the tire, in his coat. He walked around to the front of the car and set down the three one-gallon jugs he had taken from the trunk.

Doris screamed her outrage and poured out of the car with her hands on her hips, wraped in a blanket, with a glowing cigarette hanging from her lip.

"You are going to leave me here alone and defenseless? We are out here in bum- fricken- Egypt, Sam! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Doris Dear, please get back in the car. I'm sure you are completely safe. I'll be back in no time. If I'm wrong about the car …I know you don't want to sleep out here all night.'

That did it. Doris clucked that all to familiar sound that echoed across the mountains. She almost looked young and vulnerable in the moonlight. The idea of killing her was, however, still satisfying. It was too bad it would waste the twenty-grand in plastic surgery he had spent on her, an amount that offered him no amorous benefit. Sam suspected Paul Smith, the very same Dentist whose house they were heading for the weekend, was playing with the new Doris Plastic Doll - and had been for years. Paul is, however, a sleaze and would never leave his wife; she was, charming, just a hair short of pretty and filthy rich.

Doris knew her father wouldn't approve of the affair, so she stayed married to poor old Sam, all the while revealing here new heart shaped fanny and slish-sloshing her brand new breasts all over the Dentist.

Doris got back in the car. Sam saw her lock all the doors and wrap herself tighter in the blanket. She then lay down carefully so she wouldn't be seen by any possible terror in the wild night. She would not sleep. Doris was vain and would not ever appear in public without looking her best, even to a rescuing Ranger. Looking good to Doris was the only thing that really mattered. There must not be any sleeping in the car- no dried drool on her cheek- no bad breath. She would keep herself awake by thinking of more degrading comments for Sam.

There was no phone down the road. Sam would walk down the hill a bit and let Doris stew a little; she would swim in panic in an hour. He walked downhill for about a half-hour, in the silvery moonlight, humming a happy lilt. When he came to the first switchback he hid in the trees. The sat down in a clearing that had about it an evil whimsy of the same kind his own percolating mind now brewed. Sitting, he mused that people often said that life wasn't fair. They only remarked on it when something had gone wrong and they wanted to complain. Sam never expected anything from life, that way he was never disappointed. His view was that life was a series of expectations and most expectations were never met. Sam knew that it was a mathematical probability that some of a person's dreams or aspirations will come to fruition. One must be open to the concept that any event has its own life. If you let it, the universe will have it come about. Sam chuckled to himself, all the planning and here the universe delivered Doris's well-earned death to him in a very unique way. His patience had paid off. While Doris railed at him, he entertained himself by changing his personality and waiting. The best predator was one that lay in wait and ambushed prey of opportunity. He took a stick and drew happy faces in the dirt and smiled.

A rustle behind him made him start. He stood up quickly and froze. Two sets of evil looking, bright red eyes stared at him, unblinkingly. Sam's blood ran cold. The eyes appeared to be of large animals, from Sam's perspective, at least eight feet in height. In a great crash of brush and growl the eyes were gone. Sam passed gas and collapsed to his knees. Whatever it was it scared him deeply and he wasn't a man to scare easily. He gathered himself and moved out of the dark and on to the road surface. He pulled out his pistol and checked to see if it was loaded.

He waited…nothing happened.

"Sometimes mother bears came across humans and postured. Maybe a young one had climbed a tree and mamma stood up…letting me know she didn't like running into me in the dark. Yeah…that's it." Sam soothed himself.

It was more a prayer than talking to himself. He backed up further to the other side of the road. He didn't like the feeling of being frightened. Logic - not imagination had been the bearing of his compass. It didn't take long for him to shake his head and get on with what must be done. Doris was his priority. It was the nature of opportunity to throw in a reason to be afraid. He included it. He used his flashlight to find the perfect tool; a thick short piece of branch lay at his feet. He switched off the flashlight and put it in his jacket pocket. Picking up the branch and liking its heft he started walking back to the car. The bludgeon was for his darling wife; the gun was for anything that would at this point interfere.

A low throaty growl and rustle came out of the night to his left. He stumbled and fell in a tangle into the underbrush; a quiet squeak came from his terrified throat. He had seen what seemed to be a fanged maw of what was certainly not a bear. His mind could not recreate it and that frightened him even more. Lying on the ground was not a way to face the unknown; running was the way to face the unknown and he got up and did just that. Sam knew it was the worst thing to do when a predator was stalking you but it was the only thing he could do. No part of the plan included being food for any unidentified wild animal. Food couldn't be picky about who ate it. He ran up across the road and dove down into the brush off the right shoulder. Something hit hard and heavy on Sam's back and knocked him face down. Sliding on the gravely slope, tiny bits of rip-rap tore into his hands and face. A retching stink assailed him and unwittingly caused him to wet himself. He lay there in the moonlight sneezing and petrified; his mind a whirl. He had fixed his eyes on the shiny black wetness that flowed from the palms of his hands. This was wrong. Sam had always understood the philosophy of karmic balance and the killing of his wife would require some form of payment. He had only intended to kill her, admittedly he 'really' intended to kill her. Was there a karmic debt due for intention? One to pay this horribly forced him to review his rather dull life. It was all about the destruction of Doris- no more -no less.. No greater sin than wishing her body turned into ashes and discarded in as haphazardly a way as possible.

He sneezed again trying to get himself under control and listened for breathing or lip smacking. A sure sign that his life was to be shorter than expected. The sneezing went on unabated. Sam's only thought was that the universe did have a sense of humor; he was allergic to the thing that wanted to eat him.

Nothing more happened for several terrible minutes. Sam rolled over on his back slowly expecting the worse. The flashlight had fallen from his jacket and now shown bright just down hill out of reach. There was nothing to do now but try to survive. He allowed himself to slide, somewhat noisily, toward the flashlight and waited.

Nothing. What ever hit him was now apparently gone or waiting. Now was the time to give in to the idea that the privilege of killing his wife would have to be earned by surviving this little problem. He quickly assessed his situation. Pissing his pants was not good and marked him as sure prey. He cursed his weakness. Whatever had knocked him down was playing and was probably watching. He needed to find a defensible position.

He saw a large boulder and turned the beam toward what looked like a recess where he might find some safety. It would require a bold move and a growl above him gave him the motivation to jump toward the shadowed hollow. Something leapt over him and great claws tore into his neck. Night black blood splashed all around him. It was arterial- he was dead for sure. He scampered into the cavity and scurried, badly wounded, under the rock. The beast or whatever it was could be heard to still be sliding heavily down the slope. It was a better hole than he had hoped more of a small cave littered with leaves and other dried vegetation, obviously dug out by a luckily absent animal. His hand went to the injury to his neck and he shuddered. It was bad, he could feel the ragged edges of the terrible wound. It bled freely but he was relieved that the artery wasn’t cut after all. There was still so much blood. He was covered in it. There was so little pain, the shock was holding back the scream of torn and tortured nerves. Sam knew he was on the menu of whatever was out there, dished out all to easily if he didn't staunch the blood flow from his hands and neck. He pulled off his jacket with great difficulty and the use of the minimal energy ebbing out of his torn body by the second. His gun fell from his coat pocket. He picked it up with surprise and glee. The odds of his survival may have improved. He was still thinking clearly in spite of the blood loss..

" Well, you stinking hairy bastard." Sam hollered out his challenge. "Let's have you come for me now."

Sam knew that the beast need not come for him . It knew that Sam was badly injured and only had to wait. That was not something that Sam could do. Doris still required his attention and this was a bloody annoyance. Sam giggled at the pun. It was one thing to have to change a well thought out and perfect plan, he now he had to add in this addendum. He may as well find some humor in his predicament.

"What was so wrong with a little murder done neatly and concisely in the comfort of a mans own home?" Sam said to himself, smiling.

"There's no real fun in it." A low whisper answered somewhere over Sam's head.

It was a voice but what monstrous throat produced it? Sam inched back further into the lair and pointed both the pistol and flashlight at the opening.

"Come on out and play… why don't you, Sam?" The voiced growled again, clearly just outside the den opening.

"Come on in we can play in here." Sam answered; hoping to get a bead on the thing as it climbed in after him. It did- and Sam emptied his pistol into the flash and blur of teeth, fang, and fur. Darkness and searing pain overcame him and he slipped into the darkness; praying it was all a bad dream.

He did awake to a still dark night. It was cold and Sam sneezed several times at the odors that assailed his now runny nose. The beast's smell was still in the air but it wasn't ugly anymore; it was now as if the smell were a name wafting through the night air. Each new scent had a taste that made his mouth water. He pushed himself up and sat. There was pain and the memory of something horrible sat just on the edge of his fuzzy and confused mind. He spun around in all directions and covered his mouth to avoid his urge to scream, panic had him. It was all quite impossible; he was sitting in the middle of the road, not ten feet from the switchback in the road. What had dragged him here? He tried to stand and screamed - a child-like shriek that echoed off hidden mountains, reverberating and diminishing in a mocking way. The pain in his throat and calf was hot, tearing and demanding. Falling he grasped his lower leg. He lay on his back and lifted one hand to the moonlight and saw the black and silvery drippings that revealed the presence of a copious amount of blood. He started to cry. What kind of beast plays with its prey like this? It was his own mind that answered.

"Just kill me you son of a bitch." He yelled into the night. "I don't know how much she paid you for this mess but I hope you tell the bitch you earned it." Sam screamed. "A little gruesome and messy for a professional but she never had any taste." Sam did his best to sit up gritting his teeth and snarling. "You have me…finish it."

Sam slapped his clothes looking for his gun. It was gone.

There was no answer coming from the cold moonlit night.

"Well buddy …you may have left me to die. I won't." Sam tried to rise and with as much agony as anyone could endure he began to walk uphill toward his wife. "I am going to kill her. That was my plan and your interference will not change that intention. So kill me now or leave me be."

Inch by inch Sam moved as a shadow that lurched and twisted through the night like Bela's mummy. Clouds covered the moon, a frigid wind roared up the mountain and it began to snow. What seemed to be hours passed as Sam trod through the thickening snow that blanketed the road. Sam found it hard to recognize landmarks and when he arrived at where he believed his car was parked - nothing was there. He fell to the ground shivering with cold, exhaustion and pain. Dragging himself to the side of the ravine he looked down and saw the glow of a fire. His brain, devoid of blood did not serve him now; nothing made any sense. Who would have done this thing? Who had torn him to shreds and left him to die? The universe was mad. He allowed himself to fade into the warmth of unconsciousness.

***

Six months had past. He was found the next morning, on all fours, crawling down the mountain. The Rangers got him to a hospital by calling in a chopper. He should be dead but he did not die. The crash was noted but there would be no forensics and there was nothing left of Doris save what the animals would scavenge before spring. The report stated that Sam was thrown from the car during the tragic mishap. Sam healed inordinately fast and was released. He collected his money and vanished. Cliff Bennings moved to Alaska and bought a remote, large, two-story log cabin with every luxury.

All was at last well.

Except for the monthly transformation to the same thing that had tore him up on that mountain. Sam now knew it wasn't a hit man but a beast that had hurt him and had thrown his wife down the mountain. He had no tangible reason to think on the motivations of such an animal. But it changed him and rid him of Doris. The change was a fair trade.

Then at one o'clock, in the middle of a twenty-four hour night as Sam watched his satellite television and ate an Elk steak, a knock came from the front door. At first he thought he had heard things. Then the knock came again.

"Maybe an Alien coming to visit or a grizz." He laughed as he gathered up a rifle just in case.

Sam peered through the eyepiece and saw nothing. He switched on the exterior lights and looked at the video monitor recessed in the wall next to the door…nothing. He heard a crash toward the side of the house. He switched a monitor and saw nothing. The minutes past quietly. Then the doorbell rang. Sam stared at the door and was amazed. There was really no one who would come to visit him. The few people he knew would have tried the door and hollered his name.

"Sam, open this door!" Came the high pitched howl from the other side of the door.

Sam, a.k.a. Cliff stepped back from the door. 'What throat could have made that call?' he thought to himself.

"Sam Darling open the door. It's cold out here."

Sam fell to his knees. The voice outside the door was too terribly familiar.

"Sam…open the door. You have no idea how hard it was to find you." The voice said.

A single pathetic tear fell from his eye. The universe had a sardonic wit.

"Are you crying? I smell tears. Let me in Darling there is no more need for sadness. It's going to be so much different now." Again the demon voice.

"How will it be different?" His own voice sounded alien to him. It was the voice of a defeated man.

"Don't be silly of course it will be different. You know perfectly well what I mean. Now open this door."

Sam got up slowly and did as he was told. And there in all her glory was Doris smiling as if she just finished a day of shopping. She grasped his shoulders with both hands and kissed him absently, sweeping by, looking around at the house and throwing off her coat. She had no luggage.

"Shut the door Dear. We have so much to talk about."

Sam did as he was told and stared at the apparition that stood before him.

"Why aren't you dead? Are you a Ghost?

"This is a wonderful house and it's beautifully furnished. I am so pleased. Did you do it?"

Sam could do nothing but nod.

"I am so proud of you. Have you healed up, Sweety?"

Sam could do nothing but nod.

"Daddy always said you had potential. He loves you, you know. I wasn't sure, there for a while, you took so long with your plan to kill me. It really was good. I especially like when you killed the drug dealer. A real killer, my sweet Sammy. No tracks and who would care…right? Lord, did I ever push you. What a bitch I was. My own brother, you know, turned down the opportunity. What a pussy! Shock to the family… but …oh… look how my Sam turned out. Come here and give me a real kiss."

Sam could not take in what he had just heard.

"Sam…please…you are hurting my feelings. I didn't hurt you all that much, stop being a baby. Is it that Dentist? I have the twenty grand… Dear you know we can change the shape of our human form…Just a thing to piss you off. Oh dear, you don't know that? Damn, you should have tried to kill me then. I'll show you how later. Let's get back to the Dentist. What a piece of work he was. Darling I never screwed him - I just killed him and that wife of his. I did so well there. He had a load of cash in the house and some great art pieces. I disposed of their bodies, him and that little tramp. I did them both a favor -they had no life. I'll tell you. We will do just fine. Your million and a million and a half of theirs…we will never have to worry about a thing."

" How did you get rid of their bodies?"

"Darling, What a silly question? I ate most of them. What are you eating? I'm starved. I could smell it outside. Oh…Elk!"

Sam went in the living room, with Doris talking, behind him, the whole time. He sat down on his recliner and put the feet up.

Doris stopped talking. Sam lifted his head and stared at the reddish blond fur and terrible visage of a werewolf not as big and powerful as is own ebony coated countenance… when the change was upon him.

"Isn't this wonderful. It's like a honeymoon. Come on Dear it's the first night of the moon and I timed my arrival - perfectly. Change, so we can go hunting. Alaska, can you believe it. I'm so proud of you I'm about to burst. Come on, I've the taste for fresh Elk." The high

pitched gravel voiced beast spoke.

"Caribou and moose!"

" Wow-what fun!"

Sam stood up and Changed. He looked on his wife with new eyes. She really was beautiful- in fact she was a stunner. He breathed in her delicious scent and howled with delight.

Doris giggled from her throat. It sounded horrible but to Sam it was unbelievably sexy.

"Hunting can wait a few." Sam said with a low rumble that had the desired effect on Doris.

"Oh Sam this is like a Honeymoon. "She fell to the ground in all fours and purred in anticipation.

Sam's thought at the moment of rapture:

" Well live and let live, die and let die. The universe knows best and who am I to question it? After all-for good and ill-wolves mate for life."

End

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