WritingMadeHard

Phil could see the reflection of the full moon and the lights from the boat rippling on the water below like a mirror in a funhouse.
Damn that witch! It was all her fault. If it weren’t for Zena, he would have injected Strange’s formula on time. If it weren’t for her, he’d never have gone to Niagara Falls in the first place. Hell, he wouldn’t even be on the bloody boat!
Boat? He was still on the boat? He had to get off! Frantically he searched for a lifeboat, a vest, anything. He would jump and swim if necessary.
The boat’s whistle blew. Phil put his hands over his ears and dropped to his knees. It was an awful sound, shrill and loud—painfully loud. He’d never heard anything so loud in his life. When it was over, he was disoriented, dazed. Standing, he staggered aimlessly about the deck for a moment trying to regain his bearings. His ears were still ringing from the noise. He was supposed to be doing something, something important. What was it?
He shook his head, trying to clear out the fog. The moon continued its slow rise above the river as he turned back to the railing. Holding onto the rail he leaned over the side looking down at the muddy water. What was he supposed to be doing?
It seemed he couldn’t do much of anything any more. He was so easily distracted, unable to focus and his memory … his skin stung from the moonlight and itched something terrible; his feet hurt, and his jaws ached. Phil tried to fight the effects of the moon on his body, but it was so hard to think.
Get away. That’s it. Yes, he had to get away before he did something…something to Zena…That bitch! She and her whore friend were probably screwing those two cops. Yes, they were! He had seen it in her eyes earlier when he was in her cabin.
“Whore!” he growled, quietly. Holy Christ, even his teeth hurt! And damn these tight shoes! He couldn’t do anything about his teeth, but by God he could do something about his shoes! Kicking off the offending foot ware he trotted away toward his wife’s cabin. His feet slipped on the wooden deck and he almost fell. Stopping, he pulled off his stockings. That was better. In seconds, he reached the cabin, lunging at the door.
His body impacted the cabin door at full speed, knocking it from its hinges and he burst into the room in a full-blown rage. Pouncing on the bed he tore at the sheets, but no one was there. The bathroom was empty too. Darting into the adjoining room, he could tell without even looking that no one was there. The whole suite smelled empty.
Phil left the room and scrambled up the stairs, following the scent of the two women. His pain and discomfort were forgotten as his mind gave in to the rage. Then he saw them.
The two women were about to enter the dining room.
What little reason he had held onto vanished. They’re going in and those cops were there—waiting for them!
Barreling headlong down the deck, he uttered an ear-piercing howl as he charged into the two women, knocking them sprawling across the deck.
“Oh my God, Zena! Run!” Natalie crawled toward the dining room door.
Phil ignored her, focusing only on Zena, chasing after her.
Zena scrambled clumsily for the stairs.
In a moment, he was on her, grasping at her legs with clawed fingers. Her flesh tore and rivulets of blood poured down her limbs as his nails dug into her ankles. She kicked savagely, attempting to dislodge him, but he held on.
“Bitch!” he growled.
“Phil? Phil, darling, is that you?” Zena cried, fighting to get away. “Phil, darling, it’s me, Zena. Oh, God, Phil—stop. Please stop. Think of the baby!”
Phil relaxed his grip and looked deeply into her eyes, saliva dripping from his chin. He saw the tiny scar that ran through her right eyebrow where she’d cut herself, falling on a bucket as a child. It always flared red when she was excited. It was very red now.
Standing motionless for the briefest period of time he thought how he loved this woman more than life itself. She was bleeding. She was carrying his child and she was bleeding. He should help her—do something before…
Zena took advantage of his hesitation, pulling free and scrambling to the top of the stairs, her feet and legs dripping blood. She attempted to move quickly, frantic to put some distance between them, heading for the door.
Phil chased up the stairs after her and in another moment he was on top of his frantically thrashing wife.
“Phil,” she shouted. “Think what you’re doing! Please.” Using her hands, she tried to protect her baby but it was useless. She tried to calm Phil by talking to him. But the time for reason was passed.
Phil ripped at the one he loved most, shredding her chest, her face, whatever he could reach. Pieces of her summer dress came away in his claws. Kicking, scratching, cursing, growling, they tumbled back down to the deck, her blood and tissues spattering the staircase.
“Nat! Someone!” Zena sobbed as she fought to get away on her hands and knees. “Help me. Oh, please help me! Oh please God, help my baby.”
Phil roared like a beast, pouncing onto her back, raking her body with sharp claws, and gnawing off pieces of her flesh with his teeth.
Covered in blood, she almost managed to slither from his grasp as claws ripped at her legs from hip to ankle, but she wasn’t strong enough. Her strength ebbed away with the blood that flowed from her body. One last effort resulted in her slipping out of his grasp. She tried to kick him in the face with a bloody foot as she dragged herself across the deck, but Phil was too fast for her. Pouncing like the beast he’d become, Phil landed on her shoulders driving her body to the slippery deck up against the side rail of the sternwheeler.
Zena screamed as he bit into her shoulder, tearing away a huge piece of flesh. His powerful claws flipped her over onto her back like a rag doll.
Natalie made it up to the next deck, holding a deckchair over her head. Swinging the chair at Phil with all her strength she hit him hard on his back. “You leave her alone!”
The impact drove Phil to the deck. Natalie threw the chair on top of him. “Somebody help us!” She screamed as she took Zena by her bloody hand and tried to help her to her feet, but Zena could not stand. She was too weak, lying in a huge pool of her own blood that sloshed back and forth across the deck as the boat rocked.
“You bastard!” Natalie kicked at Phil, as he lay on the deck beneath the chair momentarily stunned. Letting go of Zena, she picked up the chair and struck Phil with it again and again, but her actions had little impact. Soon, Phil reoriented himself. He grabbed the chair, jerked it from Natalie’s grasp and threw it over the side of the boat.
Natalie scurried across to Zena, cradling her close to her chest. “It’s all right darling. It’s going to be all right. Help! Please someone help this woman," she screamed.
Still a little shaky, Phil climbed to his feet and stood holding onto the railing to steady himself. The moon was fully risen now and he took a moment to bask in its light. The light gave him strength, and he gloried in it. His skin no longer itched, his jaws and feet no longer ached. Phil felt alive. He almost felt that he was life. Standing facing the moon, he found it wonderful. His countenance glowed with the light and a smile crossed his face. Facing the moon’s fullness, in a moment of near ecstasy, a strange sound escaped his lips. It was very much like the howl of a dog.
People had gathered at the entrance to the dining room to see what the racket was on the deck. Some had moved toward the stairs. Phil saw them and growled fiercely, shaking his shaggy head and waving his arms in the air. The passengers shuffled backwards, eyes and mouths wide open.
A chunky woman in a bright flowered dress stood near the door of the dining area, poised to rush back inside. She held a little preschooler by the hand.
“Look, Mommy,” the boy said, pointing at Phil and jumping up and down. “It’s the statue from the Zoo! It’s the statue come alive.”
“Someone get the Captain!” his mother yelled.
People stood clumped together in the doorway, not really able to see well with the light at their backs, but fearful of all the commotion. They wanted to see what was going on without getting involved.
Those few who were closer to the action watched in horror. They made no attempt to assist.
“We’ve got to get away from here,” Natalie told her friend.
Phil heard her and turned from the crowd to renew his attack on the one he loved most. Shoving Natalie off to one side he ripped at Zena's body with his claws, chewing on any part of her he could get into his slobbering mouth.
Natalie dropped Zena’s hand and ran along the deck. “Help! Somebody please help. He’s killing her!”
“No, oh, no,” Zena cried as the monster lunged for her throat. “Think of our baby!” Fading fast, she attempted to protect the baby by holding her hand and arm between Phil and her belly. Her wrist went into the monster’s dripping maw. “I love you so much. Oh, darling, I beg you. Don’t do this.”