C. Fern Cook
Wild Justice Excerpt
Wild Justice by C. Fern Cook
Create Space Publishing, 2010
ISBN: 978-1-4515074-9-2
The night before the wedding, Elizabeth heads to bed early; the long flight has taken its toll on her elderly system. Dan sits nursing a beer, with Angela cuddled up next to him on the couch. He flips the TV off. They sit a little longer together; then Dan pulls her closer and gives a kiss on top of her head. “Maybe we ought to head off to bed too. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
“Just a couple of more minutes. We won’t have any time alone tomorrow until we leave for the honeymoon. I just want to enjoy a little quiet time together, okay?”
Dan kisses the top of her head again as she cuddles up a little closer to him. Angela may be enjoying her cuddle time, but Dan can’t put aside the spiteful words his future mother-in-law spewed out earlier that day. The words keep replaying in his thoughts.
Angela uncoils from the couch and stands in front of him with her arms stretched out to him. “Maybe we should turn in too. You’re right; it’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” Angela takes his hand, and he follows her up the stairs, but his mind is still recycling Ella Connor’s words.
Dan tosses and turns while Angela falls directly to sleep. He props up on his elbow watching her sleep. They named her right, she is an angel. I don’t think I am the man she deserves. He gives her an ever so light kiss on the cheek and whispers, “I’ll do my best.” He lies down again to try to get some sleep.
Sleep comes, but it is not restful for Dan. In his dreams, his subconscious releases its anxieties.
Everyone is seated; Dan and Angela are at the altar. The preacher is giving his wedding spiel. Suddenly his tongue seems too big for his mouth; his teeth protrude over his lips; his tongue dangles over his bottom lip and droplets of saliva drips down his chin. The preacher stops and stares with mouth hanging open in awe as Dan slobbers down the front of his tuxedo.
Dan’s face twitches, then blooms it into tingles with an irrepressible urge to scratch. When he digs at the stubbles popping out on his chin, the stubbles turn to fur.
Angela steps back in awe of his transformation. She drops her bouquet but doesn’t take her eyes off his bizarre changes. Dan sits back on his haunches and looks over the crowd in the church. Many have stood up and a few are backing up, ready to make a fast exit.
Ella stands and points her finger at him and yells out for all to hear, “I told you. I told you he has something to hide.” Angela joins the rest of the guests and backs away from Dan, who is standing on all fours at the altar. A few muffled screams can be heard in the crowd. Dan lifts his head back and gives out an ear-splitting howl. He looks over the crowd one more time, then bolts down the aisle in his altered state of being. All of the guest move out of his way as he runs out the church doors.
Dan eyes pop open, a cold sweat beads up on his forehead. He licks his lips; his mouth is cotton dry. He turns over and sees Angela still sleeping soundly. He slips off the side of the bed and tiptoes downstairs.
With the TV on and the sound down low, Dan stretches out on the recliner, mindlessly watching the infomercial on the tube in an attempt hide from his dream.