I verified that all of the wolves I’d shot were changing back into human form and then went to the table. Someone or something had knocked it over during the fight, but I found the first-aid kit fast enough. I set the table upright and dropped the kit on its surface. Dragging a chair over, I laid the shotgun down and proceeded to reload it without setting down the Colt.
Gail made a soft sound and when I jerked toward her, I saw that she had stopped struggling. She was calm again, maybe even asleep. What did that mean? Had I killed the werewolf that bit her or was it just something to do with the scent or sound of the werewolves that had intensified her condition? Hell, I didn’t know. I was making this up as I went.
I made it back to the table and sat heavily in the chair. I shone the light around until it reflected off the green stainless steel Thermos. Retrieving it, I brought it back to the table. Then I noticed coffee dripping from a hole halfway up the side.
“Shit.”
I removed the top and poured the coffee into the lid. There was a splash as a shiny ball fell into the cup. I raised the lid to my lips and filtered the coffee between my teeth until the only thing left in the makeshift cup was a single deformed piece of silver buckshot. I set both aside and reached for the first-aid kit.
Chapter 9 – Moonset
I lifted the first-aid kit onto the table and undid the latches. Opening the clamshell case, I shone one of the tactical lights across the interior. I wished the cabin’s lights were on. Things would be simpler with the lights, but I couldn’t even figure out why they were out. Had one of the werewolves bitten through the power line? No, that didn’t sound right. The main circuit panel was on the side of the cabin where the overhead power lines came in, but surely one of the werewolves hadn’t been able to trip the switch. Or had it?
I set the light on its base next to the open kit. Its clean white light barely reflected off the elevated ceiling, but it was enough to cast a pale glow over the cabin’s interior. I pulled my gloves off and dropped them; they fell to the floor beside the table with a wet splat and blood sprayed onto my pants. I worked out of my leather jacket, causing bursts of pain in both my forearms and chest. Using another of the tactical lights, I examined my wounds. One slice in the back of my left wrist was deep. Blood flowed freely from two slices on my left arm and one on my right. None of the wounds pulsed as a damaged artery would, but the volume was scary. I tore off the remains of my shirt and then pulled off my belt. Wrapping the belt around my left bicep, I threaded the end through the buckle and then pulled it tight and still tighter until the flow of blood slacked. I looped the belt around my arm again and tucked the edge under itself to maintain the tension. As soon as I had the belt snug, I opened a bottle of antiseptic and poured it liberally over my forearms. The heavy blood flow should have cleaned out the wounds, but considering how contagious the werewolves’ saliva was, I was taking no chances.
Next, I found the boxes of disposable staplers. According to the printing on the box, each contained twenty-five staples. I broke the sterile seal and jockeyed the stapler around in my hand until I had a good grip. Getting the edges of the flesh close enough together to staple was tricky with only one hand, especially a hand that was slippery with blood. I worked as fast as I could, not caring about neatness, just wanting the damn wounds closed. I only did the two major ones before loosening the belt and starting on the right arm. That arm was even more difficult as I have never been very good at fine work with my off hand. I promised myself to practice using my left hand as soon as I could get beyond this current mess and back to my studies.
As soon as I’d closed the worst wound in my right arm, I put a few staples in the smaller wounds. That went faster and I was able to push the skin back together easier. At least twenty minutes had passed before I finished cleaning and stapling
Putting my belt back on was a more difficult task than I ever remembered it being before. Every few seconds my eyes darted to each of the ragged skylights. There was never any sign of movement, but that didn’t keep my imagination from continually seeing motion. Motion always out of the corner of my eye, never completely visible, but my subconscious knew it was there, even if it vanished each time I looked directly toward it. I stopped a few times to listen but heard nothing but Gail’s breathing and my own pulse in my ears.
I shone one of the lights around the room until I spotted my tablet where it had slid against the wall. I wasn’t sure how much blood I lost, but I felt woozy when I stood up. I staggered over to the tablet and when I bent to recover it, I nearly fell on my face. I had to brace one arm against the cabin’s wall while I picked up the tablet and stood erect. Setting the tablet on top of the open first-aid kit, I fired it up and checked the time. I was shocked to find that there were more than five hours until moonset. Was it
