Читать книгу Small Town Monsters - Craig Nybo - Страница 81

Craig Nybo

12

“But a werewolf?” Kurt arched his eyebrows.

“Some believe he was a werewolf. Many of the bite-marks on the remains came from wolves or dogs. To make it worse, Danny had, how should I say, werewolf characteristics, much like his father.”

“You mean the hair?”

“So you’ve seen pictures?”

“I told you, I read the file.”

“Then you know what a monster he was.”

“Monster, yes, I’ll accept your definition; but a werewolf?”

“Come now, you and I are rational human beings. Danny and his father owned a lot of dogs; they used them to help on the ranch. The explanation is simple; he fed his dogs human flesh; then, as a sick fantasy, he took all the blame on himself.”

“That’s what the file said. Why can’t people like Harmon accept a rational explanation?”

“Scars, Kurt, scars.” Hugh pointed to the ugly patch of skin on his bicep.

“That’s all well and good, but I can’t have everyone jumping to weird conclusions about what happened on Buren’s ranch. I don’t need a drunken posse out in the woods with guns on a werewolf hunt.”

“I agree. I’ve seen what’s happening around town. It’s disconcerting. You worry about mass hysteria, and you should. I once read about a little town in southwestern Colorado called Perkin’s Bend. In the last decade of the 19th century the whole community collapsed. It just fell in on itself. At first there were meaningless neighborly spats, but things got out of hand. Soon it seemed it was every man for himself. They picked up their guns and started shooting. Those that survived the affair pinned it on a drifter, a scapegoat named Eamer Caine. They say he was the devil’s hand. But if you look into the town’s history, even before Mr. Caine came along, you’ll find scars. If coffins start piling up, a whole town can feel the wounds. That’s what you’re seeing. This Buren ranch affair is poking at the scar tissue on the arm of DePalma Beach, causing the people here to relive the pain that Danny Slade caused.”