Ben had made a cup out of some sort of large, fernlike leaf, and it was from this that he dribbled water into Frank’s mouth. Why Ben was trying to help him, instead of tearing him apart like all the other men he’d encountered in the forest recently, Frank didn’t know, but he was grateful anyway. He was in no shape to fight right now. Anyway, he wanted to get through to Ben, not kill him. He had promised Nancy.
“Thank…you,” Frank croaked. “Thank you…for your help.”
Ben leaned closer and said, “Nan…cy?”
“She’s…at home.” Frank was careful not to mention Rutherford Chamberlain or the timber baron’s redwood mansion. Just the word home might be enough to set Ben off again in another rage.
It didn’t, though. Ben said, “Hoooome.”
Frank glanced around. He saw that Ben had started a fire somehow, only a small blaze, but it filled the cave with welcome light and heat. He didn’t see Dog, though. The big cur had been lying near the wall, evidently unconscious, the last glimpse Frank had gotten of him. Maybe Dog had woken up while Frank and Ben were both unconscious and had left the cave…
Ben reached over, out of Frank’s line of sight, and brought back a blood-dripping haunch of raw meat that looked like it had been torn directly off a carcass. “Eeeeeat,” he urged.
Frank saw the coarse gray hair clinging to the flesh, and his stomach revolted. “Dog!” he yelled as he fought his way into a sitting position. Filled with rage of his own, not caring how Ben reacted, he slapped the giant’s hand aside. “You son of a—”
A whine from the cave mouth brought him up short. Frank’s head jerked toward the opening. He saw Dog standing there, a quizzical look on his face.
“Dog,” Frank breathed in relief. He still didn’t want any of the bloody meat Ben had offered him, but at least it hadn’t come from his old friend.
Dog came tentatively into the cave, all the way to Frank’s side. He started licking Frank’s face. Ben leaned back against the rocky wall and watched the reunion. Frank couldn’t be sure because of the thick beard, but he thought Ben was smiling.
Frank put his arms around Dog’s neck and hugged the big cur for a long moment. Dog must have been watching from outside, and had seen that Ben wasn’t hurting Frank. He still cast wary looks toward the massive, shaggy man, but he seemed willing to tolerate being around Ben, at least for the moment.
Frank was still chilled, but the warmth from the fire helped. So did having Dog pressed against him. The trembling inside him eased. As it did, he became aware of how thirsty he still was. He pointed to the leaf in Ben’s hand and said, “Water?”
Ben seemed to understand. He got to his feet and shuffled to the cave mouth. Stretching out his arm, he held the cupped leaf in the drizzle until it was mostly full of water. Then he carried it back carefully to Frank and offered it to him. Frank took it, being equally careful not to spill the liquid, and drank deeply from it.
It was hard to believe that Ben Chamberlain, who was being so gentle and considerate in caring for him, was the same wild, frenzied creature that had brutally killed almost two dozen men. Yet Frank had no doubt of it. He had seen the Terror with his own eyes earlier that day, carrying off the man whose corpse Frank had found later in that redwood. He had heard descriptions from other eyewitnesses who had survived encounters with the monster.
Because that’s what the Terror was, Frank mused…man and monster in one body.
What would happen if he was able to take Ben Chamberlain back to Eureka? Would he be put on trial for his crimes? Frank believed that justice should be blind and impartial, especially where murder was concerned. A killer was a killer, and ought to be punished accordingly. But he couldn’t see hanging Ben. The spectacle that such an event would become bothered him.
It would never come to a trial, Frank realized. A mob would take care of matters before things ever went that far. Given the level of fear and hysteria in these parts, as many as several hundred men might descend on any place where Ben was being held, take him out, and rip him apart just as he had ripped apart so many others. In a way, that would be a fitting end for him, Frank supposed, but the idea still sickened him.
No, the most merciful thing to do, all the way around, might be to wait until Ben went to sleep, put a Colt to his head, and blow his brains out. That would mean breaking Frank’s promise to Nancy, he reminded himself, but he wasn’t sure she had thought out exactly what she was asking him to do. Bringing her brother back to civilization was just going to wind up tormenting him that much more.
Whatever Frank decided, he told himself, he didn’t have to make up his mind tonight. Soon enough, yes, but not tonight. He would rest instead, and try to get his strength back.
He had to have something to eat, too. Ben had laid that haunch on the cave floor. Frank didn’t know what sort of animal it was from, and wasn’t about to ask. He picked it up, brushed the dirt off it, and drew his knife. He used the blade to carve off a hunk of meat with no hide attached, then speared it on the knife and leaned forward to hold it over the flames. Ben watched him, apparently fascinated. The smell of roasting meat soon filled the cave.
When it was cooked enough, Frank took it out of the fire and blew on it, waiting for it to cool. After a few minutes, he tore off a piece and held it out toward Ben. The giant hesitated, then reached out and started to take it. He pulled his fingers back when he felt that the meat was still warm. Clearly, he wasn’t used to that anymore. Frank said, “It’s all right. Go ahead and take it.”
To demonstrate, he bit a piece off the meat still stuck on the knife and started to chew. It was pretty gamy, but the juices gave him a jolt of strength anyway. He ate the whole piece while Ben worked up the courage to take the morsel Frank was offering him and sample it. When he finally did, though, he seemed to like it.
Frank roasted more of the meat, which he thought might be wolf. This time, Ben was eager to share. As they were gnawing on the meat, Frank tried something.
“You remember Jules Verne, Ben?” he asked.
Ben glanced up. “Juuuules…Verne?” He looked confused—at least Frank thought so, although it was difficult to be sure with all that hair obscuring his face—but after a moment, he said, “Neeeeemo.”
“That’s right, Captain Nemo from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. I saw that book. It belonged to you, didn’t it?”
Ben took a deep breath. “My…boooook.”
“I like to read, too. I’ve read that one, and Five Weeks in a—”
Before Frank could finish saying the title of the novel he had found in the primitive cabin, Ben jerked back, cowering against the wall. He put his huge hands over his face and said, “No, no, no, no…”
“Take it easy, Ben,” Frank said quickly. “We won’t talk about it anymore. Just settle down—”
Ben didn’t settle down. He lunged to his feet and ran out into the night before Frank could stop him. Frank climbed painfully to his feet, limped over to the cave mouth, and looked out into the thick, wet darkness. He would never find Ben out there. He’d had the Terror, but now the creature was gone.
And he’d never really had him at all, Frank reflected. He and Ben had just been in the same place for a short period of time.
At least now he had food, water, and a fire. All he could do was rest and wait for morning. Then maybe Dog could track Ben again.
And he was certain now that the Terror was really Ben Chamberlain, he reminded himself. That was more than he had known earlier. It didn’t make his chore any easier, but it cleared up a mystery.
There were still mysteries to be solved, though, such as what had happened to make Ben like he was now. Sure, according to Nancy he had always been a little eccentric, preferring to live in a world of his own rather than take part in what was actually going on around him. He had gone off to live by himself in the woods, too, and that sort of isolation sometimes wasn’t good for a man. It did things to his mind after a while.