throat to the killer teeth.
Chapter Nineteen
Roy lay with his eyes closed, waiting for the final burst of agony that would come when the teeth of the wolf ripped away his throat. Incredibly, nothing happened. He forced his eyes open and saw the beast, bloody-mouthed, watching him. The cruel mouth stretched again in a triumphant snarl. Then the beast backed off, turned to the forest, and slipped away into the night.
Minutes went by and there was only the darkness and the sounds of the small forest creatures. Roy tried to rise, but the pain in his shoulder was like a hot iron. His mind would not work. Thoughts crumbled into fragments of visions, making no sense, forming no pattern. With his body operating on instinct alone, he began to crawl through the brush. He crawled until finally he was back on the path. With a wrenching effort he raised himself to his feet. With his right arm dangling he stumbled along the path toward his house. Again and again he fell heavily to the ground, but each time he rose again to stagger on.
Something jolted Karyn Beatty out of her sleep. She looked around, disoriented for a moment. She was in the living room of the little house. In the rocking chair by the window. She must have dozed off. What was she doing out here? Waiting for Roy, that was it. She remembered then, sitting here through the afternoon, waiting while he did not return. She had opened a can of soup for her dinner, then sat down again. Then she must have fallen asleep.
The gray luminescence of the window through the curtain told her it was dawn. She had slept here through the night, and Roy was still not home.
What had awakened her? A noise outside the house. Something out there. She hurried to the closet where the shotgun was kept and brought it back into the living room. Cautiously she unlocked the front door and opened it just enough to look out. The sky was lightening, but the forest was still dark and secret beyond the clearing. There seemed to be nothing… then she looked down. There at her feet, his body twisted into an awkward position, lay her husband.
Quickly Karyn put the gun down inside the house and knelt beside Roy. His clothes and his hair were covered with pine needles, twigs, and dirt. He was alive, but flushed and feverish. His breathing was shallow, his face damp with perspiration.
'Roy, my God, what's happened to you?'
There was no reply.
Karyn cradled Roy's head in her lap. His eyes fluttered open. For an instant they had a look of unspeakable terror and she felt his entire body go rigid. Then his expression clouded and he relaxed. His eyes were still open, but he seemed to see nothing.
'Roy, what is it? What happened to you? Oh, please answer me!'
His eyes closed again, then opened with the same blank expression. With her hands under his arms Karyn managed to heave him to his feet and steer him into the house. She got him into the bedroom and eased him into a sitting position on the bed. When she pushed him gently back he lay down without resistance. She took off his shoes and loosened his belt. His shirt was badly torn at the shoulder and stained with what looked like blood, but there was no wound underneath.
Karyn covered him with a blanket, pulling it high around his shoulders.
'Roy… Roy, I'm going for the doctor. Can you hear me?'
He groaned deep in his chest — a sound that might or might not have been an answer.
'You stay here and keep warm. I'll be back as soon as I can.'
Karyn ran out of the house. The sun was visible now through a gap in the mountains, slanting down through the trees, warming the shadowed places.
For one of the few times in her life Karyn truly regretted that she had never learned to drive. There in the clearing sat the Ford — so accessible, so ready, so useless to her. She considered for a moment taking it anyway and trying somehow to drive it as far as Drago. She had sat next to Roy often enough to know the procedures. But no, it would be foolish now to risk smashing up the car on top of the other urgent problems. She began to run down the narrow lane toward the village.
She ran until she was out of breath, then walked, then ran again. Soon she reached the blacktopped road and turned toward Drago. No one was out in the early morning. She had the town to herself.
The street where Dr. Volkmann lived was still in shadow. The window blinds in the house were drawn. The doctor's dusty old Buick stood in the driveway. Karyn ran up the wooden steps to the porch and rang the bell. She waited a minute, then rang again. This time she heard someone moving inside.
Dr. Volkmann opened the door and blinked down at her. He wore a faded blue bathrobe and slippers with no backs. His thin gray hair was in disarray.
'Why, Karyn, what is it?'
'Something's happened to Roy, Doctor. Can you come and see him?'
'Happened? What's happened?'
'I don't know. He went into town yesterday afternoon. I fell asleep in a chair waiting for him. A little while ago a noise woke me up and I went to the door. Roy was just outside lying on the ground.'
As she finished speaking Karyn began to sob, the pent-up emotion breaking through.
'I'll be right with you,' said the doctor. He reached into his worn bag on the hall table and took out a bottle. He shook two pills into his hand and gave them to Karyn. 'In the meantime you'd better take these. They'll calm your nerves. You can take them with a glass of water from the kitchen while I'm getting dressed.'
Karyn walked down the musty hallway to a large, old-fashioned kitchen. She found a drinking glass in one of the cupboards and ran it full of water. She looked down at the pills and hesitated. No more of these, she reminded herself. She dropped the pills down the sink drain and poured the water after them. She walked back into the front hall in time to meet the doctor coming down the stairs. He wore a sweater and pants and shoes hastily pulled on over his bare feet.
'Let's go,' he said.
Volkmann snatched up the medical bag and he and Karyn hurried out to the old Buick. It started at once, and Volkmann gunned the engine up the street to the road that turned off toward the Beattys' house.
'What were Roy's symptoms when you found him?' the doctor asked.
'He was only semi-conscious. His face was all red and he felt as though he had a fever. He opened his eyes, but they didn't seem to focus on anything.'
'And when you left?'
'I put him in the bed. He seemed to be sleeping, but his breathing was uneven and his body seemed tense.'
'Any marks or injuries?'
'That's a curious thing. His shirt looked as though it was stained with blood, but there was no wound that could have bled like that. Only scratches on his hands and face that could have come from the brush. There might be something else. I didn't undress him.'
Volkmann pulled the Buick in behind Roy's Ford, and he and Karyn went into the house. Roy was still in the bed where Karyn had left him. His eyes were closed. His head rolled fitfully on the pillow.
'Help me get his clothes off,' said Volkmann, 'and we'll give him a going-over for injuries.'
Roy made feeble sounds of protest as Karyn and Dr. Volkmann pulled off his clothes, but he did not wake up. The doctor examined him thoroughly from head to foot, then rolled him onto his stomach and checked his back. He probed delicately through the blond hair on Roy's head, and finally looked up at Karyn.
'No apparent injuries anywhere. His symptoms are similar to those of a concussion, and that might be the case even though there is no sign of a blow on the head.'
Together they rolled Roy over on his back again, and Karyn covered him with the blanket. As she did so, he opened his eyes and looked at her.
'Karyn,' he said thickly. 'What time is it?' Then his expression became more alert. He raised his head. 'Dr.
