The Werewolf, part 1

Dustan was a fine specimen of an Irish American male. He stood six foot tall and weighed a handsome 170 pounds. He was not overly muscular but sported a well define six-pack beneath his broad athletic shoulders. His well-groomed flaming red hair caused his emerald, green eyes to sparkle and shine. His eyes were accented by his ever- present, mischievous smile that turned up on either side of his face, in deep seated distinguished looking dimples.

While Dustan was growing up, his friends always laughed at him and told him that the only Irish he had in him was his looks. The luck of the Irish must have skipped a generation and left Dustin with no luck at all. This odd notion seemed to follow Dustin, from childhood, through adolescence and into his adult life. This week end was a prime example.

Dustin had driven from his business office in San Diego to a conference in down town Las Vegas. All he needed to do was secure the signatures of several clients on a group venture that would make the company Dustin work for millions.

First Dustin’s car broke down and made him late for the meeting. Then once he arrived, the document’s he needed weren’t among the paperwork he brought along. He had to have the company fax over additional copies and asked his clients if they could meet him bright and early the next morning. That evening Dustin managed to gamble away the bonus he was getting for the contract along with a large portion of his savings. Thinking his luck had changed for the better, Dustin met a beautiful blond lady at the bar, and brought her back to his room. She slipped him a mickey and when he had passed-out she took the rest of his money leaving him only one credit card she had missed when rummaging thru his wallet.

While Dustin was gambling away his bonus and flirting with the ladies at the bar, a competitor was able to talk to Dustin’s clients and change their minds. When Dustin met with them in the morning, they stated that they had decided to move in a different direction and were leaving Dustin’s company.

Now Dustin was driving home a broken man. His superiors had let him know that they would clean out his desk for him to make it easier on him when he returned to begin looking for another position. The empty highway seemed to stretch on forever in the darkness which was only illuminated by the glow of the full moon drifting lazily in and out of sight as the ever-increasing clouds passed in front of it, being tossed about by the desert breeze, the beginning of a desert storm.

With no money, no job, no family and nothing to look forward to, Dustin decided he just might be better off dead. As the thought crossed his mind, a series of lightning bolts brightened the night sky, revealing an old dirt road leading up into the desert mountains in the distance. Dustin thought that the road would be the perfect place for him to do himself in and end the cruelty he had to call his life.

Following the old road up into the mountain, Dustan saw off in the distance a small grouping of dim lights. There was something about the lights which grabbed his very soul and began pulling him toward it. What was he feeling, this longing and aching to see what shown in the distance. Dustan shook his head to clear his mind. It was probably a winter ski lodge open for summer business, or perhaps just a family residence of a family just wishing to be left along.

Dustan felt the pangs of remorse. What if the lights belonged to the home of a loving family with many happy children. He couldn’t just do himself in and let them find his body. It would traumatize them for life. Now he was obligated to follow the road and see what or who was at the end. Dustan drove slowly up the winding road, while the clouds became thicker and blocked out the moon light completely. Now driving by his head lamps alone, Dustan continued to creep along the road which by now had ventured onto a series of switchbacks and sheer cliff drop offs. He slowly rounded one such corner driving right into the view of the building which had been giving of the eerie beacon of light.

It was a medieval castle, or at least a building created to look like one. There was a wide closed Draw bridge set just beyond a formidable moat circling the structure. In the darkness, Dustan had no way of telling if the moat was indeed filled with water, but he had no reason to believe otherwise.

Large stone blocks created the walls of this fortress misplaced out of time. On each corner was hosted a tower looming up into the darkness capped with an ominous looking parapet. Small block openings scattered throughout the face of the front wall gave off flickering, dim amber light which could only have been created by torches or lighting to create the same effect.

Dustan was memorized by the castle straight out of a King Arthur tale, and began day dreaming he was a knight of the round table, when a hand slammed into the driver’s window. Dustan about jumped out of his skin. Standing outside of his car was a man dressed in rags. His pant legs were torn and his shirt was shredded to the point of almost falling off. He was bare foot and filthy from head to toe. The man was gasping for breath and trying to speak.

“Help me please!” the man pleaded through the window glass. “We have to get away from this place! They are trying to kill me and they will kill you as well! Please!!!” The man balled up his fists while banging on the driver’s window as he continued to beg for a means to escape!

From within the castle there came the sound of heavy chains moving. Dustan looked toward the castle as the draw bridge began to lower. Dustan could hear the undistinguishable sounds of men shouting orders and dogs barking. There was no time to think. Dustan knew he had to leave now! But should he help the stranger or leave him to the unknown menace beginning to charge from behind the castle defenses.

Instinctively Dustan hit the gas and lurched forward! He turned the car around to head back down the road. In front of him the man stood there, his shoulders slumped over in defeat. He looked, like how Dustan felt, at the end of his rope and ready to accept is own death. Dustin pulled up next to the man and flung the passenger door open. “Get in now!”

Dustan heard the sound of a gunshot coming from the drawbridge which was now almost completely down. Dustan no longer cared about the fate of the stranger and he knew in that instant no matter how bad life was he DID NOT want to die.