by Oren the Otter
Lunacorpora, Montana was a pleasantly quiet place, Craig Wilder decided. It was out of the way, peaceful, and comfortable-looking. Craig thought that he might just get a chance to relax before this assignment was over. Relaxing is something you don't get to do often when you're a busy federal agent. Craig looked over at his partner, Luke Watson, as the two of them pulled into town in their nondescript white sedan. He could tell from the tension in Luke's face that the youngster was not looking forward to any kind of easy time. Rather, he was already taking in clues. His mind was wrapping around miniature mysteries even as he drove.
"All right, Luke." said Craig. "Spit it out."
"Huh?"
"I know you. You're noticing things and they're bugging you."
Luke smiled, showing a mouthful of teeth which still bore white patches where braces had been recently removed. "You know me too well for what little time we've been together." he said.
"I notice things." replied Craig. "That's my job."
"All right. There are some things about this town I just can't figure out."
Craig nodded.
"Like the fact that there are so many businesses here. Two grocery stores, a gas station, a clothing store, a craft store, a store that sells nothing but doll clothes, a pet store... and yet, have you noticed...?"
"Less than an acre of housing. Yes... this town is much too small to support businesses like these. But did you see the sign as we came in?"
Luke didn't answer.
"Population 4,197." said Craig. "According to that sign, the town IS big enough. My only question is 'Where is it?'"
"What's more," added Luke. "The place has no hotel or motel. You'd think there would be one with the camp."
"Good point."
"Speaking of which, where IS the camp?"
Craig looked around. "I haven't seen any signs. Let's find someone to ask."
"Or we could just look at the map."
Craig smiled knowingly as his wrinkled brow wrinkled even further. "My dear Luke, the map isn't going to tell us anything but where the camp is. There is so much more to be learned."
Luke nodded and blushed at himself as he steered the car into the parking lot of the local grocery store.
Both of the federal agents were most pleased to find that the store they had walked into was not only a grocery store, but also a fully functional delicatessen. Craig helped himself to a delicious- looking tray of fried chicken and an oversized cola and took it to the cashier, where his partner was already purchasing a pizza.
"Two fifty please." said the man at the register, a stout man with thin fingers about Craig's age, as slightly graying hair attested.
"It's nice to be able to get a meal this early in the day." Craig commented as he handed the shopkeep a fiver. "Most places don't serve lunch at nine-thirty."
The clerk flashed a smile which Luke recognized as one belonging to someone who knew something, having seen it on his partner so many times. "You'll find that Lunacorpora has a different pulse from most other places. Around here, things start with the sunrise and close up when the sun goes down. Here's your change. Two fifty."
"No night-life?" asked Luke.
"Oh, there's night-life, if you know where to look for it. What brings you gents around these parts, anyway?"
Craig's pepper-colored brows dropped just a smidgeon at the abrupt subject change. "We're on our way to camp Zoascota. Do you know the way there, perchance?"
The man at the register chuckled. "Oh, the sign must have blown over again. You just get on this road going north. Round about five miles out, you'll see a huge hollowed-out oak tree on the left side of the road. It'll be the only one. Take a right turn there and head on out for another couple of miles. You'll see lake Zoascota on the left and the camp on the right."
"Much obliged."
"Are you two cops?"
"What makes you say that?"
The cashier motioned to Craig's clothing- black slacks, white shirt and a tie. "You're not exactly dressed like a camp councilor and I don't see any kids with you. Unless you're a Jehovah's Witness to be dressed like that, I'm guessing you're on your way up there to look into why those kids disappeared."
"That's right. We're federal agents. I'm Wilder, and this young fellow is agent Watson."
"Roy Canaber. Pleased to meet you. I wish you both the best of luck, gentlemen, but I have my doubts that you'll find them."
"And why is that, Mr. Canaber?" asked Luke.
Roy seemed to hesitate for a moment before responding by saying "These parts ain't for the timid, Mr. Watson. Wander off at night into the woods, bump into the wrong sort of animal, and it's not likely you'll be seen again."
"So you think it was animal attack?"
"I do."
Craig gave a nod. "Thank you, Mr. Canaber. We'll probably be dropping by later if you're still around."
"We're open till sunset."
The two feds went out the door and were on their way.
* * *
Camp Zoascota was right where Roy Canaber said it would be. Craig instantly began observing the layout. From the road he could see the administration building and the mess hall. They were set up in a fairly straight line, as a sort of boundary between the girls' camp on the left side and the boys' camp on the right. He thought it more than a little unusual that the two parts of the camp should be so close together, but there they were. The area around the camp was forest so dense that one could scarcely see through it, with the exception of the lake at the end of the road.
Quickly, Luke and Craig made their way to the administration building.
Inside the rough-hewn cabin was an environment which looked very much out of place. There was a waiting room on one side and on the other, a horse-faced secretary who regarded the men over the top of her glasses only after Luke had cleared his throat at her.
"May I help you?" asked the woman.
"We're here to see Mr. Wolftongues."
"And you are...?"
"Agents Wilder and Watson. He's expecting us."
"Have a seat. Mr. Wolftongues will be with you in a moment."
Craig did as he was instructed. Turning to Luke, he whispered "What sort of camp administrator needs a personal secretary?"
"One who's a little full of himself?" Luke shot back with a grin.
There was only a moment's wait before a well-dressed man with long pony tails entered the room. His visage was severe, like the face of a large cat or a bird of prey. His skin was deep red, almost to the point of looking unnatural. He spied the two visitors and broke into a smile which on a face like his, looked fairly frightening.
"Henry Wolftongues, I presume." said Craig rising to his feet.
"I am. And you are..."
"Agent Craig Wilder. This is my partner, Luke Watson."
"Pleased to finally meet you. Would you step into my office, please?"
The agents followed Wolftongues into his lair, which was even more out-of-place than anything they had seen so far. Upon entering, the smell of air freshener was nearly overpowering. The log walls of the building had been hidden behind drywall, which in turn was hidden beneath a coat of blindingly white paint. A grey security monitor failed to adorn a corner. The room was stark and utilitarian, looking as severe as Mr. Wolftongues himself. The only thing which seemed to add any feeling to the room at all was a small decorative box on a shelf next to the desk. Craig decided it might be worth his while to learn a few things about their unusual host.
"Wolftongues. That's an interesting name. Is it Yondak?"
The administrator seemed slightly amused. "Hardly. My ancestors are from the Shima tribe. My great-great grandfather was known as "Speaks-with-the-tongues-of-wolves."
"Shima? Really? My studies show that the camp you run is on Yondak land."
"A coincidence, purely."
Luke made no attempt to hide his confusion. "I'm feeling a little lost here. What's the significance of being Yondak or Shima?"
"Ah. I take it you've never heard of the old legends." said Wolftongues.
"Enlighten me." said Luke.
Henry leaned forward in his chair and caught Luke's eyes with a spellbinding storyteller's gaze. "The Shima were not your average American Indians." he began. "They were perhaps the only tribe in North America who were truly cannibalistic, in the way most people think of the term. They were savages. They would come upon a village in the dead of night and attack!" He lurched forward, causing Luke to draw back, startled. "They would kill everyone and everything, and they would devour every ounce of flesh, whether it be human or animal. Then, when their food ran out, they would move on to the next village. No one could stand against the Shima. They cut a swath right down through Canada, destroying everyone and everything in their path."
"Until they came to the Yondaks." said Craig.
"That's right." said Henry. "The Yondaks knew that the Shima were coming, so they sent out emissaries all over North America to bring in warriors, fighters and hunters to make a united stand against the Shima. It worked, too. They hurt the Shima so badly that nearly all of their warriors were wiped out. However... and this is where the story goes north... They say that the Shima brought out their dark magicians and cast a spell on the Yondaks. Every single person in the Yondak village, whether native or outsider, suddenly turned into little forest animals. Once the spell took hold, the few Shima fighters who were left would come in and hunt them down."
Luke was completely entranced by the story, and Henry was enjoying it. "The Yondaks were smart, though. They knew that the Shima were people of the night, and that their magic only worked at night, so they hid deep down in the nearby caverns. They stayed out of sight there until sunrise. Then they came out, and as soon as the sunlight touched their fur, they turned back into people and slaughtered the remaining Shima."
"Thus lifting the hex?" asked Luke.
"No. The Yondaks kept transforming into animals every night at sunset."
"So when was the curse lifted?"
"It wasn't."
"It wasn't?"
Wolftongues stared at the federal agent. "Mister Watson, you don't believe any of this, do you?"
"No... but I don't expect people are still turning into animals around here."
The administrator folded his hands. "I'm going to speak frankly. This is Lunacorpora. The people around here are, quite honestly, backwards and stupid. They're a superstitious and gullible lot who believe that when a person disappears, it's because they were eaten by a werewolf."
"Which brings us to our reason for being here." said Craig.
"Exactly. Five of our kids are gone without a trace. As I said, the local yokels believe it was werewolves. They're actually saying that. That's why I haven't been able to get any help on the local level in finding out what happened to them."
"It was my understanding that Lunacorpora does not have a local police force."
"They don't. The Sheriff's office? They're scared to come near this place. They think it's still hexed. State police? They explain the situation away as bear attacks or something so that they don't have to bother with us."
"I see."
Henry Wolftongues reached into a drawer and produced a file. Inside were photos and paperwork for five preteen children. "These are the ones who vanished. Bud Brandon, Kelly Kramer, Vince Brown, Amy Chu, and Billy Fastrabbit.
"Quite a variety, there." Craig mused.
"Very much so." Henry agreed. "In fact, the only thing any of these kids have in common is that they were all campers here at Zoascota, and that they all disappeared in the middle of the night."
"Anyone see them before they disappeared?"
"Only in one case. Billy announced that he was sneaking out to try to snitch something from the mess hall kitchen. The others were simply there one day and gone the next, though there are conflicting reports from their cabin-mates on where they might have gone."
"Are you absolutely certain that there are no other commonalities?" inquired Craig in a very serious tone.
"Not that anyone here has been able to uncover."
"What cabins were these campers staying in?"
Henry handed Craig the file folder. "That information is all in here, as well as everything else I've been able to come up with in my own investigation."
Craig opened the folder and leafed past the campers' files to several pages of copious notes. "Very thorough." he commented. "If you don't mind, I think we'll take a few moments took look these over and come back when we have more questions."
"As you wish. Keep the file as long as you need it. If I'm not in, simply have Mary page me."
"Mary?" Luke echoed.
"Mary Lynn, my secretary."
"Thank you, Mr. Wolftongues." said Craig. "It was a pleasure meeting you."
On their way out, Luke turned to Craig and asked "How did you know about the legend of the Yondak and the Shima?"
"From agent Kelly."
"Kelly?"
"He retired just as you were coming in. He handled a case near here some years back- a case of mismanagement at a nuclear facility that made it look like they were missing a canister of plutonium. Anyway, Kelly fell in love with the area and just couldn't shut up about it. He eventually retired to this very town. I might even pay him a visit if time permits."
As the two men departed the administration building, they held a quick planning conference. Luke would retire to the mess hall and run through Wolftongues' notes. Craig, meanwhile, would do a quick scouting run of Camp Zoascota and the surrounding area.
The entire camp seemed to be much to active for one that had so recently suffered five tragedies in quick succession. The kids, mostly new arrivals Craig surmised from their appearance, were cheerful and busy, as if nothing had happened to bring him and his partner here.
Little happened to grab Craig's attention until he passed one of the girls' cabins and heard someone say "Wasn't it great to actually BE a werewolf last night?"
Craig froze in his tracks and backed up. He stared at the two girls talking on the porch on their cabin. "I know! It was so awesome!" one of them said before looking up at the eavesdropper.
"Pardon me," said Craig. "But did I just here you say something about werewolves?"
"Um..." responded one.
"You interested in werewolves?" said the other.
"I am. Very much so."
"Diane's the person to see if you're interested in werewolves. She's in cabin 21."
"Thank you, but if you'll pardon an old man's curiosity, you were talking about being werewolves?"
"It's a game." said the first girl.
"Yeah... a game." added the second.
"A game. I see. Well, have fun then."
* * *
"I'm beginning to see why the local authorities are spooked by this place." said Luke as he sifted through his notes and sipped some coffee. "Wolftongues said that people are blaming the disappearances on werewolves... well there's a huge werewolf cult in Lunacorpora. In fact, the name of the town translates into "Body from the moon".
"I think I just met a couple of members." said Craig. They directed me to a gal named Diane in cabin 21."
"That's the cabin Amy Chu was in." Luke pointed out.
"I think we ought to pay Ms. Diane a visit."
* * *
"Diane Thompson?"
"Yes?"
"I'm federal agent Craig Wilder, this is agent Luke Watson. We'd like to ask you a couple of questions."
The freckle-faced teen's skin went pale from fright. "You guys are cops?"
"Of a sort."
"I swear... I SWEAR I didn't smoke any of the stuff. They tried to get me to, but I didn't..."
Luke and Craig exchanged glances. "Where is the stuff?" asked Luke as if he knew what she were talking about.
"Under Sammie's mattress, over there."
Luke dug out a bag of dried leaves. He opened the top and sniffed, as did Craig.
"Peppermint?" asked the older agent.
"Catnip!" replied Luke.
"You're smoking this stuff?"
"No!" Diane insisted. "I told you I didn't smoke it!"
Craig smiled. "How old are you?" he asked.
"Eighteen."
"Smoking catnip isn't illegal, you know."
"It's not?"
"Not at all. Just very weird."
"Oh. Well, like I said, I didn't touch it. But if it's not illegal, why are you guys here?"
Craig sat down on the edge of a bed and tried his best not to look intimidating. "Are you familiar with Amy Chu?" he asked.
"The girl that got killed? Not very. Why?"
"It hasn't been confirmed that she was killed." said Luke. "What makes you think that she was?"
"That's what everyone is saying." replied the girl. "I only just got here. Amy vanished the day after I arrived, so I didn't get to know her very well."
"I see. Do you have any idea what she was doing at the time of the disappearance?"
"No, but..."
"Yes?"
"Well, she had mentioned earlier that day that she wanted to collect some phoenix tears."
Craig knitted his brow in ignorance. "Phoenix tears?"
"A type of stone." Luke explained to his partner. "A smooth teardrop-shaped rock formed during a volcanic eruption."
"There's a volcano around here?" said Craig, unbelieving.
"Well, yeah. Mount Christopher. It's been dead for centuries, but you can still find some interesting lava rocks."
"I see. There's one other matter about which I need to speak with you."
"Yes?"
"I heard from some of the other campers that you know a thing or two about werewolves?"
Diane blushed. "A little, I guess. I'm president of the Werewolf Club."
"And what is the Werewolf Club?"
"I guess you would call it a game, more or less. Its..."
Diane's explanation was cut off by shouts from outside. Immediately, both agents ran outside to survey the situation. Several large teenage boys were shoving a younger, chubby boy around near the parking lot. The victim was shouting for help, and Henry Wolftongues, having already arrived on the scene, was shouting threats and warnings at the older boys.
"Shall we intervene?" asked Luke.
"Not yet." replied Craig. "I want to see just what's going on."
"You want to pick on someone?" Wolftongues bellowed. "Why don't you try picking on me? Come on!"
"You think we won't, man?" one of the teens responded.
"Come on then! Show me what you're made of!"
The boy who had spoken began laughing wildly as he advanced.
"Bose!" called another boy.
The first one turned around.
"You really wanna do that and explain it later?"
The fist boy looked downcast and backed away.
"What's the matter?" Wolftongues egged. "Scared of little old me?"
The one called Bose shoved the fat kid toward his rescuer. "Forget it, geeknoid." he griped. "You're not worth our time."
The teenagers eventually departed, more out of boredom than fear. Nonetheless, Wolftongues was clearly counting it as a personal victory.
"Who were those kids?" asked Craig as he strolled up.
"They call themselves the Fang and Claw Gang."
"Are they tied into the local werewolf cult?"
The administrator harrumphed. "I wouldn't be at all surprised. Those kids have been a thorn in my side since the day I moved in here."
Craig cast a glance at Luke, who nodded and made several mental notes. He then turned back to Wolftongues and asked "Can you tell me how to reach Mount Christopher?"
Henry seemed unfazed by the sudden switch in topics. "Look out over the woods." he said. "See that nice, big plateau?"
"Yes."
"That's mount Christopher. If you go down to the gatehouse and take a left, there's a footpath that goes down about four miles to the foot of the mountain. I assume you're tracing the footsteps of Miss Chu.
"Yes. Thank you."
With a bow of the head, Craig set off, with Luke in tow.
* * *
"Egad, there's a lot of ash around here." said Luke as he descended the steep slopes into the crater. "You wouldn't think there would be this much in an extinct volcano."
"It is unusual, yes." Craig concurred. "However, in this case, it may work to our advantage."
"How so?"
"Look very carefully. Right down here..."
Luke stared at the ash on the ground. "It's been swept over." he said.
"Exactly. Someone was here who didn't want their tracks to be identified. They tried to cover them, but didn't do a very good job."
"Let's follow the sweep-marks and see where they lead."
Carefully, the two men followed the odd sweeping pattern along until it stopped and became...
"A wolf print!"
"Not a wolf." said Craig. "Look at the curvature of the finger pads, as well as the narrowness of the palm pad. This is a feline pawprint. The claws are extended, which leads me to believe that the animal that made this is a cheetah, the only large cat with non-retractable claws."
"A cheetah? In Montana?"
"Either that or one very ticked mountain lion."
* * *
Hours of searching turned up nothing more. Finally, the two agents made the decision to return to town for some dinner. Tomorrow, they would continue their investigation by searching the caves where one of the campers was said to have been exploring the night he disappeared. After a quick meal of sub sandwiches, the two men searched the town for a hotel. None was to be found however. It was Craig who made the decision to drop in on Kelly and ask him where accommodations might be found. If all else failed, Kelly himself might have room for a weary comrade or two. As dusk was approaching, they found the former agent locking up his house.
"Kelly!" Craig greeted.
"Wilder? Wilder, what are you doing here?"
"My partner and I are on a case in the area, concerning the recent disappearances."
"And you need my smarts, is that it?" said Kelly facetiously.
"No, old friend. I'm content to let you stay retired. I was just wondering if you could tell me where we might be able to find a bed for tonight."
"A bed?"
"Yes, a bed." Craig echoed.
"Oh, you don't know then!"
"Don't know what?"
"Oh, you fellers are in for a surprise! Come on! We need to get to the woods!"
"The woods? What for?"
Kelly looked westward toward the distant mountains, and the sun setting behind the peaks. "Better hurry! The sun's almost set!" He bounded off toward the trees with a speed and sprightliness belying his age.
"Why, Kelly? What's going to... Oh my word!" Craig held his hand up to his face, only it was ceasing to resemble a hand. The fingers were shrinking, becoming stubby and stiff as his whole hand disappeared into his coat sleeve. "Watson?" he called. Looking up, he noticed that he had stopped running while his partner had not. Craig was alone.
"What's going on?" Agent Wilder asked the air. His clothes here becoming very loose. Baggy, in fact. It was as if... Yes, he WAS shrinking! Craig tore open his shirt to look at himself, and was amazed and horrified to find his chest covered in gold and brown hair so thick that it could easily have been fur. He touched the fur with his hand, only to discover that his hand was no longer a hand, but a paw. Immediately, his paws shot to his face, discovering what he feared the most. His fingers felt the flesh of his face stretching forward, turning his wrinkled human face into that of a beast. "HELP ME!" he screamed. "Someone help me!"
Struggling free of his clothes, Craig suppressed screams of terror at the changes taking place in his now small, elongated body. The screams came out at last when he witnessed a huge furry serpent emerging from his back to form his tail.
Agent Craig Wilder blacked out.
* * *
"I think he's coming to."
"Stand back. Give him some air."
Craig opened his eyes to see a horrifying face looming over him. He screamed and cringed.
"Easy, Wilder! It's me, Adam Kelly."
"Kelly?"
"Yep!"
"You look awful."
"I'm a possum."
Craig looked his friend up and down, taking in every feature; the course, grey fur, the rat- like tail, the squinty little eyes... Kelly was indeed a possum. He looked around the room, noticing that the walls and ceiling seemed to have an uninterrupted wood grain. In the corner stood an otter with a white coat and a black bag in one paw.
"That's Doctor Phillips." said the possum. "I called him when I found you passed out on top of your clothes."
"You're a possum." said Craig, just beginning to take it all in. "He's an otter. I'm... what am I?"
"You're a weasel, Wilder, and a rather handsome one at that."
Craig looked down to see his long, furry body stretched out on what would have been a pillow for someone of human proportions. There were a few other pieces of furniture in the room, including a desk lamp, which on this scale had become a floor lamp, as well as a bedside table fashioned from a shoebox and covered with a table napkin. In one corner of the room, looking like a folded tent, sat two neatly folded sets of clothes- his and Luke's. The room itself seemed to be carved from a single chunk of wood. Craig realized that he was probably in a tree.
"How do you feel?" asked the otter.
"I feel... I feel great, strangely enough, like I just woke up from eight hours of restful sleep. How long was I out?"
"Only about half an hour." replied Dr. Phillips. "It's the transformation that's made you feel rested. It has a rejuvenating effect. It effectively replaces sleep."
"That explains so much." said Craig. "That's why there were no hotels, and so few houses. You folks don't sleep!"
"Oh, we sleep." Kelly corrected. "We still need a few hours a week to dream. The reason you didn't see any houses was because you weren't looking in the right place."
"Huh?"
Kelly beckoned Craig to the door- a round portal in the side of the wooden wall. Looking out, Craig could see a whole city of lights in the trees, as well as in burrows below them. Hundreds of animals filled the forest pathways below. Craig marveled at the sight. There was everything from zebras to chipmunks down there, most of them wearing some article of clothing or other. Voices, human voices, drifted up through the night.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" asked Kelly. Craig could only nod his weasel head in response. "Then the legend is true?" he said at last.
"One hundred percent. Every last person in the greater Lunacorpora area, including you, turns into an animal when the sun goes down. Look over there. See the poodle in the leather jacket? That's Rhonda from the service station. That raccoon is Roy Canaber from the grocery store. The fox and the ferret are Mr. and Mrs. Snelling. They run the clothing store."
"The one with the doll clothes?"
"Yep. They sell undersized clothing for undersized critters. Most of us folks like to wear a shirt or a bandana or maybe just a hat, for the sake of feeling a little more human.
"This is impossible." said Craig.
"That's what I thought at first, but it actually happens. Impossible is trying to get a date with Widow Beasley when your face turns into this every twenty-four hours.
"The weirdest part of all? I'm a weasel... I'm standing here talking to a possum... and yet for some reason... I'm okay with all of this."
"Uh huh. Admit it. You kind of like it, don't you?"
"Well I..."
"Eh...?"
"Well... yeah, okay." said Craig, feeling embarrassed. "I like feeling fluffy." He laughed at himself.
"Most people enjoy the transformation. That's why I retired and moved back here as soon as I could. Ugly though I am, I enjoy being a possum."
"You're not ugly."
"You're not honest, but thank you. Anyway, that's one of the things that makes camp Zoascota so popular. Kids come and they get a taste of the wild life. They want to come back year after year and do it again."
Craig put his paw to his head in sudden realization. "The name 'Zoascota' means 'Animals in the dark'!"
"You catch on quick."
Through the door came a grey rat wearing a blue necktie. "Wilder! You're awake!"
"Watson?"
"Yeah. It's me. I have something to show you that you will not believe."
"I'm already having a hard time believing any of this."
"It's going to get a lot harder. And Kelly, I have news for you too. That case you worked on so long ago at the nuclear plant?"
"Yes?"
"I've reason to believe that it wasn't a case of mismanagement. There actually was a missing canister of plutonium."
"That can't be. That case was solved and closed. It was an error in record keeping."
"I don't believe that's true, because I think I found the canister."
"What?"
"Come with me!"
* * * Click here to continue