The Beast and the Rose

Bertram woke up with a horrible taste in his mouth, a throbbing head, and a cold metal collar wrapped around his neck.

The last thing he remembered was sitting in the Greenway Pub with a cute guy buying him drink after drink.

Bert wasn’t much of a drinker, b

ut the guy—had his name been Rick, or maybe Rich—was so hot and attentive that he didn’t want to disappoint him by turning down any offered drinks. 

Bert wasn’t the best at meeting people and the fact that a veritable Greek God was coming on to him overrode his normal hesitancy about getting drunk in public.

He didn’t remember going home. He sat up and looked around the barely visible room. Definitely not his room. He sat on a military-style canvas cot with a small table beside it. There was a glass with some sort of liquid on the table. There didn’t seem to be any other furniture; the only illumination was a dim yellow light coming through a small, six-inch wide window on one wall.

Where the hell was he?

He attempted to stand but a wave of dizziness dropped him back to the cot with a clatter of metal. He touched his throat. A metal band encircled his neck and he discovered a chain extending from the band downward toward the floor.

“Hello?” His voice was rough.

There was a buzzing sound and a fluorescent light flickered into life. It died and then lit again. It continued this spastic action for half a dozen tries before finally settling for staying lit.

“Good morning, Bert.” A distorted voice came from a small speaker in the corner of the room.

“I’ll be down shortly. You’re probably thirsty. I left you some water.”

Sure enough, the glass was full of clear water, at least he assumed it was water. His throat hurt so bad that he didn’t care. He clutched the glass with a shaking hand and drank most of the water while spilling almost a third of the volume down his chest.

The metallic sound of a large bolt being thrown startled him and he turned to see a thick door open. The small window of yellow light was replaced with a well-lit doorway in which Rich—or was it Rob—stood holding a pitcher of water.

“I’m sorry about the disorientation. The drug I gave you can have side effects like nausea—”

“You drugged me? Where am I? What do you want?”

“I understand, Bert, please calm down and I’ll explain everything.”

“Are…are you going to kill me?”

Rich—he was sure it was Rich—recoiled as if slapped.

“Of course not. I would never harm another person.”

Bert shook the chain and sobbed, “Then let me go.”

“I’m sorry, Bert, but that chain is for both your safety and mine. Here, let me give you some more water and I promise I’ll explain everything.”

As Rich approached, Bert fantasized about springing from the cot and overpowering him but he still felt like three miles of bad road and knew that if he tried he would land on his face. He was not an action hero, he was just a retail clerk.

He meekly held out his glass for more water and chugged down two more glassfuls before signaling that he was satisfied. The fuzziness was fading and his throat no longer felt like he had tried to swallow a red-hot poker.

“I am truly sorry for how the drugs made you feel.”

“Why? Why are you doing this? I thought you liked me.”

Rich blushed. “I do like you, that much was real but that doesn’t change what I have to do.”

A single tear welled in Bert’s eye and wormed its way down his cheek.

Rich had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Please, don’t make this harder than it already is. I brought you here because something is going to happen to you tonight. If you’re not stopped you will cause untold suffering to many people.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Suffering? I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. You’re crazy.”

“I wish I was. Look, this is going to be hard to accept but you’re not entirely human. I know, I know, that sounds crazy too but hear me out. Long ago there were different species of humanity coexisting; most died out.”

“Like Neanderthals?”

“Exactly. But other branches of the human family tree were less human and more beastial. These became the stuff of legend, werewolves, ogres, trolls, that sort of thing. They died out hundreds of thousands of years ago, but their genes had already mixed with humanity’s. Every few generations, under the right circumstances, these genes express themselves. The unfortunate cursed soul turns into a murderous creature without reason who only lives to kill.”

Bert’s mouth went dry. “You are crazy.”

“Unfortunately not. Ever heard of Jack the Ripper?”

Bert nodded.

“He was one of those unfortunate descendants. Then there was the Werewolf of Bedburg, a cannibal who was executed in Germany. Even in the epic of Gilgamesh, there are tales of bestial creatures. Throughout history, these creatures have inspired the tales of vampires, werewolves, and the like. Unfortunately, you are a part of that lineage.”

He knew he sounded like a broken record but he had to say it again, “You’re crazy.”

“Bert, the change always comes upon the victim on their thirtieth birthday. You turned thirty today, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but how did you…”

“I’ve been researching you. Well not just me, my order. We are the Crimson Rose, an ancient order that has stood against these creatures for most of human history. Historically we brought down the creature after it has wrought significant havoc. With the advent of modern technology, we can trace bloodlines and calculate probabilities. You, unfortunately, were born at an intersection of several bloodlines. The statistical probability that you are a beast is near one hundred percent. Tonight you will change and then kill, if you are not stopped.”

“So, what? Are you going to shoot me like a mad dog? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Like I said, I could never harm another person. I expect you to take the noble way out; take your own life before you lose your humanity.”

Bert stared speechless for a full minute and then burst into laughter. Tears poured from his eyes and he laughed until he was overcome with coughing. It was preposterous. No sane person could believe such a fairy tale.

His mania subsided and he looked up at his captor and spoke breathlessly.

“Fuck you, I’m not going to kill myself. You’ll just have to let me go if you’re not going to hurt me.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option either. If you won’t do the right thing, I’m just going to leave you here until the change takes you. Then I’ll have no compunction about killing you once you’ve become a beast.”

Bert felt gut-punched. There was no way this crazy man would let him live. He believed that Bert was a monster because it fit his delusion. He would just kill him once night fell to protect his delusion.

“I’m sorry you don’t believe me, Bert. You have sixteen hours to think about it before you change. Trust me, you don’t want to become a monster and harm the people you love.”

Rich turned away and closed the door behind him leaving Bert alone in the cell again. Bert felt a slight feeling of relief when the light didn’t go out. At least he wouldn’t be left contemplating his fate in the dark.

After an hour of sulking, Bert stood up and traced the confining chain to a loop bolted to the concrete floor. The ring was as thick as his index finger and four large bolts anchored it to the concrete. He tugged experimentally and then threw his entire weight against it to no avail. He may as well have been trying to move a mountain. The cot was canvas stretched over a hollow aluminum frame. It offered no chance of breaking his bonds but it might make a good weapon when Rich returned.  The bedside table was a flimsy plastic affair, and his water glass was unbreakable plastic. There was an orange plastic bucket placed below the cot but it was too light to serve as a weapon.

He didn’t know how long he sat in the small room. There were no clocks, windows, or other ways to gauge the passage of time. His bladder indicated that hours had passed. He panicked when the first urge hit him, frantic to find somewhere to relieve himself. He didn’t relish spending his last hours covered in urine. He didn’t know if it was the intended use but the orange bucket became his toilet.

He pulled the cot apart and removed one of the tension bars. He walked to the extent his chain allowed, counting steps and learning his maximum reach. A plan formed as he moved, but he had to be certain he didn’t strike too soon. If Rich evaded his grasp he was doomed.

When Rich returned the room was dark. The door opened flooding the space with the yellow light of the hallway. Rich paused and then leaned to the side. Bert heard the distinctive clicking of a switch being repeatedly flipped.

“Damn light,” he muttered before stepping into the room, leaving the door ajar.

“I’m sorry the light died, Bert. It was not my intention to leave you in the dark, I’m not trying to be cruel.”

“It died about an hour ago…I think. It’s hard to tell time here.”

“It’s just a few minutes until midnight and your deadline. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think over what you said. I don’t want to harm anyone. I’d rather take the high ground and stop myself before I become a beast. But I want to know, how do I end my life, and will it hurt?”

Rich lifted a small wooden box and opened the lid. In the faint light, Bert could make out a large needle filled with fluid.

“This is fast and utterly painless. You’ll fall asleep in seconds and then be gone. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“I’m ready then.”

“I wish we could have met long ago. I really was attracted to you, Bert, that wasn’t a lie. Come toward me, until you reach the end of the chain and then extend your arm. I promise to make this as easy as possible.”

Bert stood. He shook uncontrollably. It wasn’t every day a man was ordered to walk willingly to his death.

The chain pulled tight, stopping him and he held out his left arm and waited.

Rich had the common decency to appear sorrowful as he started forward, reaching into the box to grab the needle.

The crunch of broken glass underfoot was loud in the cell. Rich looked around, confused. The shattered flourescent bulb formed a line on the floor.

Bert reached behind himself and yanked a small metal bar. The broken tension rod, wrapped by several feet of chain came free, releasing the slack. He surged forward and drove the metal rod into Rich’s abdomen, knocking the air out of him. Bert was not a large man but fear for his life, gave him strength he didn’t know he had. 

Rich doubled over and Bert leaped atop him, driving him to the ground. He smashed his captor’s head into the concrete. He snatched up the box and its deadly cargo.

He didn’t think about the morality of his choice, it was kill or be killed. Rich started to struggle as Bert drove the needle home between his ribs and pushed the plunger home.

Rich hadn’t lied. In less than five seconds he went limp, and in another few seconds, he became still. 

Bert rolled the man over revealing glazed staring eyes, he was dead. Bert almost wept in relief and began searching the corpse’s pockets. He hadn’t considered that Rich might not have the keys to his shackles. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that.

Tears flowed freely down his face upon discovering a small key in Rich’s pocket. Trembling fingers fit the key to the small lock on the neck collar. With a low click, Bert was free.

Bert staggered from the room into the lit hallway. A flight of stairs led up from a short corridor. He’d call the cops once he was well away from this chamber of horrors. No jury would convict him, it was self-defense against a lunatic. 

Somewhere above a clock began to chime. A wave of nausea tore through Bert, doubling him over.  His head throbbed and he felt uncomfortably warm.

Three more steps brought him to a door. 

Agony consumed him. Every joint, every inch of skin, from his toes to the top of his head screamed out. Bert screamed in pain. He reached for the door knob and, to his horror, his hand pulsed like a balloon, inflating and changing shape. Dark, wiry hair erupted from the back of his hand. His neatly manicured nails darkened and elongated, forming claws.

He felt every part of his body lengthening and bulging with new muscle. His jaws widened as long fangs took the place of his normal teeth.

Bestial Bert stood upright as pain fled. He stood a full two feet taller than he had before. Enlarged muscles ripped through his clothing leaving it in shreds. Dark wiry hair covered his torso like some sort of beast. He bellowed laughter and let loose a feral howl. He could sense a world full of prey beyond the door. 

He slammed one massive fist against the door, shattering it. Bert loped out into the darkness, howling his eagerness to start the hunt.

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