Author's note: This story was written for HumboldtLycanthrope's October Werewolf Contest, winning third place.
PROLOGUE[]
On July 20, 1969, at 20:17:40 UTC, the Eagle touched down on the moon’s surface at coordinates 00°41′15″N, 23°26′00″E.
The location of the landing site was specifically selected for its high visibility and relative flatness, as well as its location near the ellipse of the equator. It took its name from familiarity of the terrain, and the overall plainness it possessed in comparison to other lunar areas: Mare Tranquillitatis.
The Sea of Tranquility.
Back on the primary celestial body, 530 million people were tuned into their television sets, awaiting with bated breaths the moment of truth, the moment when man would set foot on a world that was not his own.
When it came, 530 million households broke into celebration.
Three men, two on the surface and one floating above, had managed to capture the undivided attention of the world for two whole hours.
What occurred marked the culmination of nearly a decade’s year of work-- a definitive victory for the USA in the Cold War, as well as a substantial catalyst in technological advancements in everyday life.
It remains one of the most revered moments in the history of man.
THE NAME[]
As scalding motor oil spilled onto the asphalt of Route 1, Cecil silently wished he hadn’t bought the 1968 ‘Cuda.
The viscous black liquid sizzled on the ground, dampened by the mountain air. As the thick clouds overhead parted, the light of the full moon was able to shine through, illuminating the vibrant color spectrum hidden within the dark pool.
Cleaning off his hands, he stood up and slammed the open hood. The distinct whoomph of the heavy steel panel echoed through the valley, disturbing a flock of birds perched on the trees. There was no service station for miles, and little to no chance of a tow truck driving by at this time of night.
Swearing, Cecil reached into the glovebox and retrieved his emergency flashlight. At least he’d had the good sense to come prepared. His silver cross necklace clinked against the window as he straightened his posture.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” sighed Ida, peering ahead from the back seat.
“Yeah; engine’s completely starved of oil,” he grunted. “We’re gonna have to get out and walk to the nearest service station.” He was worried for Ida. He’d known her since childhood, and was one of the only people she’d trusted to tell about her panic attacks, along with Donnie and Frieda.
Frieda. He winced at the thought of the name, as if it were an utterance of a forbidden curse.
“You know what to do, son.”
He shook his head and cleared the memories out of his head.
A branch snapped somewhere nearby. Ida jumped up from her seat.
“That sounds like a really bad idea, man,” whispered Donnie, who had his arm around his gal. “Who knows what crazy hitchhikers and shit are gonna be out here?”
Cecil stared at his best friend and shook his head. Donnie had always been a little fragile; someday, he would need to teach him to toughen up-- although he agreed that, in a way, it made him perfect for Ida.
“Relax, guys,” he whispered. “We’ll follow the road all the way to the next town. Nobody’s gonna get the jump on us, not while I’m here.” He picked up the wrench from under the hood and slammed it into his fist for emphasis.
“For fuck’s sake, dude, don’t you know this is exactly like what happened to--” Donnie’s sentence was cut off as his girlfriend punched him in the side.
“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare say that name, Donnie,” she hissed.
“Right. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just get going. Please. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
“I’m scared,” Ida stuttered.
“It’s okay, hon,” Donnie whispered, with his own sense of trepidation. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He put his arm around her and she smiled.
As Cecil turned his flashlight towards the winding road, the trio headed off into the night.
Commander Neil Armstrong carefully positioned himself to descend the steps of the landing craft, preparing a line that would mark one of the most pivotal points in human history.
“I’m going to step off the LEM now,” he grunted, contemplating what he could possibly say that would not downplay the significance of the moment.
He hovered above the last step, peering into an endless abyss that lay mere inches from his feet.
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
His boots touched the ground.
Armstrong silently cursed himself for stammering, and knew it had ruined his chance to stun the world. But it was too late now; he was now touching an entirely different celestial body than the one he had been born on. Work needed to be done.
REFLECTION[]
The clomping of Cecil’s hiking boots echoed throughout the misty forest, masked only by the occasional worried gasp from Ida at a movement in the brush. They’d been walking for what seemed like hours by this point.
“Jesus, Cecil, can we just wait till morning for someone to come by?” Donnie begged. “We’re cold and creeped out. Let’s set up camp or something.”
Cecil exhaled through his nostrils. He knew that staying in one spot was the worst possible thing to do in this circumstance, but he knew exhaustion would get the better of them if they didn’t stop.
“Fine, I’ll get some wood. Donnie, watch Ida while I’m gone; get a good, flat place to make shelter.”
He placed his wrench in Donnie’s hands, grasped it for a second, and then reluctantly let go. Turning his back, he loosened his arm muscles and started in the direction of the woods.
Before his figure disappeared into the fog, he turned to look back.
“Don’t be afraid to hit anything that comes at you, Donnie,” he said. “Be safe; keep Ida safe. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” Both Donnie and Ida knew whom he was referring to.
“Don’t you want a weapon?” Donnie asked.
“Nah, I’ll be fine.” he replied, instinctively reaching his hand to his side.
Cecil slunk off into the shadows, trying desperately not to think about what had happened on that night in 1958.
“C’mon, Cecil! Come down to the cliff!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory.
“Look at the moon, Cecil.”
Involuntarily, Cecil squinted up at the full moon, then snapped his view back to the ground. A small puddle had formed from the water droplets falling from the tree above. The light of the moon shone into the water, illuminating his face as it towered above him.
“You know what to do, son.”
He touched the water with his hands, watching as the hypnotizing ripple distorted the image. Suddenly, he reached out and punched the mud beneath him, snapping him out of the trance.
He bent down and began gathering what few dry sticks remained on the soggy ground.
...
Donnie shuddered in the cold night air, his breathing slow and deliberate. He couldn’t help it; he knew why even Cecil was unsettled by the surroundings.
He vaguely remembered meeting Frieda at the sixth grade dance. She was a pretty girl, with tufted blonde hair and a pale complexion that complemented her slight frame and weak voice. She seemed like a perfect foil to Cecil, who was strong, robust, and imposing.
The only other time he’d seen her was when they found the body…
He looked at Ida, peering into her glossy blue eyes and clutched the wrench tightly, suddenly aware of the enormity of the forest around them.
Cecil was right. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
…
Ida avoided Donnie’s stare and gazed intently into the darkness that lay before her. If only she could tell him how scared she was. But she knew telling him would only lead to false reassurance. She knew that Donnie was just as afraid as she was.
They’d both watched as the police carried the corpse out of the ocean. To him, it must have seemed like a rifle being fired in the distance, hitting near but not close enough to directly affect.
But for her, it was as if the shot had gone straight through her heart.
Frieda had always been the sweetest girl in school. She was a being of pure innocence, a light piercing through the darkness of the bleak community. Since first grade, the two had been inseparable friends. They would always venture out into the woods to the cliff, which hung over the Atlantic and provided the perfect view of the night sky.
In some ways, she was envious of how Cecil had stolen Frieda away from her. But, seeing the two together, she realized that the match was made in heaven. Of course, she’d tried to move on.
But as soon as she saw what the ocean’s current had done to her face… it was all she could think about.
Ida’s palms began to sweat. Her face turned a sickly green, and she grabbed the back of her head.
Donnie gripped her wrists and pulled her arms to her sides. He then wrapped his own arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
As tears streamed down Ida’s face, she smiled, and realized that she could put off moving on for now.
The first howl rang out as the moon was fully overhead.
Shortly afterwards, at 03:15:16 the following day, Lunar Module Pilot Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin stepped onto the lunar soil.
“Beautiful view,” he remarked.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” gushed Armstrong, who had begun collecting samples for NASA to observe back on their own terra firma.
Aldrin looked around, pivoting his helmet to better see the scale of the empty plain. Behind him, the Earth floated ominously, obscured by the shadows caused by the curvature of the landscape, as if it was going through its own waxing phase.
He looked back at his fellow astronaut, who had removed the flag of the United States from its container.
“Magnificent desolation,” he stated.
THE HOWL[]
Donnie and Ida were shaken awake by the pitch. It was long and shrill, almost unnatural.
“Fucksake, nobody told me there were wolves in this area,” Donnie hissed. "Where’s Cecil?"
The two waited in silence for one of them to call out for him. Neither did.
“I’m scared,” whimpered Ida, who had begun to sweat profusely.
“Calm down, hon,” said Donnie. He reached his hand out to stroke her hair.
The second howl rang out. This time, the noise was clearly closer.
“I hope to God Cecil remembers we’re here,” Donnie whispered. He looked down at his shaking hands, which could barely hold the wrench.
Then the third howl rose up from the brush, only this time, it was from behind.
The couple shot up and clutched each other’s hands.
“Should we run?” whispered Ida.
“We’ll get lost, and Cecil won’t be able to find us,” Donnie responded.
The pitter-patter of footsteps came into earshot, and Ida screamed.
Out of the brush jumped a huge, dark figure. It crawled on its four legs to the center of the clearing, mouth gnashed with rows and rows of impossibly sharp teeth. It reared on its legs and let loose a low, rumbling growl, like the sound of a car engine starved of oil; it was a sound of solid parts clashing and grinding against each other. Its body was like that of a bodybuilder, tall and muscular, but its skin was covered entirely in a thick layer of shaggy fur. It swiveled its head towards the couple, shooting a piercing glance from its blood-red eyes, split through the middle by a jagged black pupil.
Donnie barely had time to raise his wrench.
The beast lunged forward and tackled him, tearing at his flesh with its razor-sharp teeth and claws. He was only able to scream for a second before his throat was torn apart.
The last thing he felt was his skull being forcefully ripped from his jaw.
As blood and chunks of offal scattered around the clearing, Ida could only stare, frozen in terror. She wanted to scream so badly, to let her fear out, but all she could manage was a whimper.
“I know you two were close. I know you you feel empty without her. But she’s in a better place now, and God has made sure of that.
“I can’t say I’ll ever miss her the same way you do, but know that I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Donnie had been there for her when Frieda had died. He’d been there for her every step of her life since then.
And now she had no one.
Suddenly, the wrench was thrown from the remains, cleared away by the creature as it continued its feast. It fell and clattered at her feet.
Not even stopping to pick it up, Ida turned and ran.
On the opposite pole of the site, Command Module Pilot Michael Collins looked down on the darkened, pale gray surface of the celestial body from the window of Columbia. It was the first of forty-eight minutes of radio silence he would experience during his day-long series of orbits. There was no sound, except for the slight beeping of the console.
It was a feeling of total, unparalleled isolation.
Collins turned away and reached for his tape recorder, covering the faint light that shone through the window with a spare cloth. Sighing, he rewound the tape and lifted his headphones over his ears.
“And God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. And God set them in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good.”
Collins smiled, and closed his eyes for a moment, as he embraced the solace from the great responsibility that lay on him.
But only for a moment.
Back home, Mission Control remarked, “Not since Adam has any human known such solitude as Mike Collins.”
FLIGHT[]
Ida closed her eyes and ran.
She ran, ignoring the searing pain flowing through her entire body.
She ran, pushing aside the thoughts of her lover’s death from just minutes ago.
She ran, never once looking back.
She looked to her side. She was there. Of course she was.
She reached out her arm, and Ida grabbed it.
They ran between the trees, dodging the occasional wayward dangling branch.
They sang happily as they sprinted in circles, resisting the dizziness.
They ran until they reached the cliff. They stopped and watched as the waves crashed against the rocks below.
They turned and looked at each other. Ida saw a void of purity in her eyes, accentuated by the light of the moon.
The wind blew silently through the forest behind them, gently rustling the grass.
Ida tripped.
The wind stopped, and the moonlight faded. Her face turned green and bloated, and her once-beautiful eyes turned pale and white, like glass. Her skin began peeling off to reveal a long tear mark, and continued to peel until there was nothing but bones and exposed flesh.
Ida turned around as she saw the wolfman lunging toward her, and closed her eyes once more, trying in vain to return to that state of euphoria.
Two shots rang out from the darkness, and the beast fell dead.
She opened her eyes to see Cecil with a blazing revolver, panting and clutching his cross as he burst into tears.
Aldrin surveyed the vastness of the plain, watching as Armstrong moved away towards a crater. He knelt down onto the fine, powdery soil that covered the landscape, taking out a small box from a supply case.
“I'd like to take this opportunity to ask every person listening in, whoever and wherever they may be, to pause for a moment and contemplate the events of the past few hours, and to give thanks in his or her own way.”
He then opened the box and removed its contents: a small flask and a thin, shrink-wrapped wafer.
Reciting the words of his hometown pastor as best as he could remember, he gestured his hands to his forehead, then his chest, then his right shoulder.
Looking up, he saw Armstrong waving at him from the crater. He smiled.
He moved his hand to his left shoulder, poured the contents of the flask into a container, and dipped the wafer into the liquid.
As Aldrin placed the bread between his lips, he silently thanked God for the bounty that He had bestowed upon humanity of his graciousness and unconditional love.
Swallowing, he got up and slowly made his way towards the crater.
The small service was kept private from viewers and listeners due to an ongoing controversy with an Atheist lawsuit against NASA.
Historians only discovered decades later that the first liquid poured on the moon was communion wine.
SNAP[]
Cecil made sure to keep Ida close by as they hurried back towards Route 1. He wiped his tears off his cheeks and made his best effort to look confident.
“So… what was that thing that... killed Donnie?” Ida could barely get through Donnie’s name without choking.
Cecil sighed and pointed at the moon.
“Meteors hit the moon every so often. It’s in the perfect position to shield Earth from large showers. But sometimes one of the chunks of moon rock manages to make its way down here mostly intact. We don’t know what it is yet, but something in those chunks causes… mutation. Total change in molecular structure. Transmitted by bite. Only manifests when linked by full light to the moon. There’s something up there, hidden inside that thing, that we can’t possibly understand.”
“‘We’?”
“My family has been hunting these things for centuries. Ever since the Dark Ages, people have claimed lycanthropy- shape-shifting.
“People who turned into werewolves.
“My father taught me from a young age that these things were real, and he taught me how to fight them. The people who usually found the things were silver miners, so the bullets are made of silver out of tradition. Any bullet can kill one, though.
“In any case, he wanted me to take over the family business when he died. And I told him I would.”
“C’mon, Cecil! Come down to the cliff!”
“And then I met Frieda.”
Several howls came from all directions.
“Look at the moon, Cecil.”
“We need to go,” Cecil stated.
There was no response.
“Frieda, what’s on your leg?”
He looked behind him to find Ida crouched in a fetal position, whimpering.
“Come on, Ida. They’re coming.” He nudged her shoulder, but she refused to move. “Ida, please, get up!”
“It’s just a little dog bite. One bit me while I was out here the other day.”
Footsteps echoed from what could only be a few hundred meters away.
“IDA, PLEASE. WE NEED TO GO. NOW.”
“You… you killed her, didn’t you,” Ida whispered.
“What?”
“Frieda, you’re infected. I have to… I have to kill you.”
“We all thought an animal got to her, but it was you, wasn’t it?”
“Ida…”
“Cecil…”
“Donnie trusted you too much, but I knew it was you… that look on your face when they pulled her out… you knew what happened.”
“I didn’t have a choice, Ida…”
“I don’t have a choice, Frieda… I’m sorry.”
“She was so young, Cecil!” Ida screamed, ignoring the ferocious growling coming from all sides. “I… We were perfect…”
“She was bitten! She could have hurt you!” Cecil grasped his cross so hard he thought his knuckles would snap in two.
“I would never hurt you, Cecil…”
“I don’t care! I don’t care if that’s what you thought because you didn’t know her… I knew her… I knew her more than you ever co--”
Two shots rang out in the darkness. Ida’s body fell limp, spreading against the wet leaves that layered the ground.
Cecil lowered his revolver and placed it back in his holster. He stood above the corpse and stared into the dead eyes.
“I did it, Dad.”
“I did it, Dad.”
The wolfmen burst through the bushes, and Cecil ran harder than he’d ever run before.
Armstrong heaved the case of lunar material off the ground and carried it to the stationed lander. Placing it in the storage compartment, he turned and looked out at the expanse.
The gray dust in front of him had been permanently disturbed by the weight of the astronauts’ boots, which resulted in striped, symmetrical, oblong indentations that dotted the area. On the horizon, the Earth was now in full view, bright and almost iridescent in the light of the sun.
This place will never be the same again, he thought to himself. We, as humans, have made our mark on this domain, and have made it our domain. And that mark will never fade.
He wondered if he should announce this as a speech to the world, perhaps as an amendment to his earlier mistake.
He was still wondering as he walked through the door of the lander for the last time.
EPILOGUE[]
As the moon sank below the treeline of the mountains, the first sounds of the new day fell upon the empty stretch of Route 1.
A group of bats chirped as it retreated to its roost. Towards the edge of the forest, a mourning bird began its daily mating call. A small biplane flew overhead, creating a stream of smoke that temporarily blotted out the sky.
The shrubbery at the edge of the woods rustled, and a figure emerged. The fading moonlight partially illuminated the figure of a naked man, coated in mud and sweat, which glistened slightly as if it were made of glass.
As he stepped out onto the road, he winced as his leg buckled beneath him. Collapsing onto the pavement, he cupped his hands over his face and silently wept.
The shadows of the trees began to recede, exposing the man’s blackened wound on his leg.
Moaning, the man began dragging himself along the ground, towards a broken car pulled at the side of the road. He pulled himself into the passenger’s seat and leaned his legs out the open door.
As sunlight flooded the valley, the weak howl that escaped his throat was drowned out by the steady rumble of cars passing by.
On July 20 at 23:54:04 UTC, Aldrin stepped off the lunar surface for the last time.
On July 21 at 1:09:23 UTC, Armstrong stepped off the lunar surface for the last time.
At 17:35:06 UTC, Collins was reunited with his fellow astronauts in orbit.
At 19:42:56 UTC, the Eagle detached from Columbia as it set off on its home journey.
Perhaps the most overlooked broadcast of Apollo 11 was made by Buzz Aldrin during the final eighteen minutes of footage from the craft’s return trip to Earth.
“I've been reflecting the events of the past several days and a verse from the Psalms comes to mind to me. 'When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man that thou art mindful of him?'”
NASA attempted to remove this quote from the mission transcript in fear that it would cause further controversy. However, the majority of the 53 million households were content with the broadcast.
They agreed that the statement was merely one of observation.
Written by Noctevoire
Content is available under CC BY-SA