Cree stared after him, astonished that he could be this way. Dead man walking. A guy with a tumor deep in his head that sometime soon would bring him down and kill him. She had demanded the details from him, and he had spent a few minutes telling her the particulars, the type of tumor, the positioning and infiltration that precluded surgery, the first tumor board's unanimous opinion, the second and third boards' concurrence. His ability to keep running at this stage was highly atypical, his doctor said. The glioblastoma mainly created intracranial pressure and pain, but it also changed brain function, made for weird sensory disturbances, unpredictable mood changes, strange thoughts. Sometimes the effects were troubling, but they could be fascinating, too. He'd been terrified when he'd first learned, but he'd more or less mastered that. He'd studied death and tried to make it beautiful. Took him to some strange places, but it felt like it was sorted out now. She had pressed him for more, but Ray said he wearied easily of the topic and was done for tonight. So then they'd talked about other things. Cree watched him closely throughout, aware that for all the times and ways she'd dealt with death, she had very little real experience of it from this side of the divide.
Now the clunk of the cabinet doors came from the kitchen and the sound amazed her. That's how you do it, she thought. Hey, gotta feed the dogs. Another day comes with its demands and problems and pleasures and you muster through it because for now you're alive, and what would you do different anyway? She wanted to tell him his courage was marvelous, but she doubted he wanted to hear it. He'd say something like, It's not courage. It's just the absence of a choice.
After a minute, she got up. She picked up the empty wine bottle and the glasses and brought them into the kitchen, where Ray was opening dog food cans. He put down the bowls and watched with obvious satisfaction as the animals choffed away.
"So," he said, "today we do the church records?" Drowsily normal. Instructing her on how to do it.
"If you have the time."
"Wouldn't miss it. I've got some sick leave coming at work."
Ray turned to the sink and began filling a teapot with water; Cree opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves for breakfast foods. Like they were an old married couple. Just your ordinary heart-wrenched empathic parapsychologist trying to uncover the hundred-year-old secret of a wolfman; just your regular dying mystic doing his balancing act, resigned, doing his best to succumb completely to both life and death.
Cree took out eggs, butter, and orange juice and put them on the counter. It didn't really feel artificial. Mainly it felt like a ritual—a tea ceremony, maybe, something to be done with greatest delicacy and precision. She wanted to touch him, even just briefly on the arm, but was afraid to break the spell.
54
REV. MICHAELSON WAS a cheerful, athletic-looking man in his midforties, dressed in khakis and a blue shirt. He welcomed them at the rectory door and led them past a pair of offices and a sitting room, then down a stairway into the basement. The two records rooms were each the size of a racquetball court, their walls lined by file cabinets and other storage containers. A long library table stood beneath the bright ceiling lights at the center of each room, flanked by an eclectic array of chairs.
"I only came on here two years ago," he told them. "The downside for you is that I haven't handled many requests like yours and so I'm not that familiar with our early records—hey, it's been all I can do just to get to know our living congregation! The card catalogue will help you locate materials by type and by date, but it's not very content specific. This room is basically our vital statistics—births, baptisms, marriages, deaths. Community projects, mission work, charities, administrative, financial, legal, that's in the other room. It's all chronological. As you can see, it's a ton of stuff. For a while we thought we'd have to find more space, but the Lord intervened and brought us the era of digital media. All our new archives are on disk."
He grinned, invited them to use the photocopy machine, and left them.
They quickly found Hans and Lydia's marriage, recorded in the ledger for 1887. Lydia's death was recorded, but unlike other entries hers did not include burial information—no funeral service on record, no cemetery specified. Conclusion: she was one of the hundreds lost in the cataclysm, buried deep or burned to ashes.
Cree was disappointed. She had successfully damped hopes for direct reference to the wolfman, but she had held out for some trail of crumbs that would lead to relatives who might retain personal effects that would mention him. The wolfman had somehow entered the Schweitzers' lives, or at least their basement, and surely their diaries or letters or other papers would have mentioned such an extraordinary creature. But there'd been no kids, there was no indication of where Hans had gone when he moved, and nowhere did they find the names of any relatives who might have inherited family records.
That left them to look for mention of Jacksons or Schweitzers in the other room, the mountainous paper trail of the church's activities for a hundred and thirty years. Lydia's Barbary Coast mission work was clearly the most promising starting point, and again they opted to begin with 1886. That left only twenty years' worth of papers to go through. Ray took '86, Cree took '87, planning to leapfrog each other through the years.
The papers gave Cree a good sense of Good Shepherd Mission. It was apparently something of a personal crusade for the church's charismatic founding minister, Rev. Wallace, who dominated church affairs for thirty years. There were texts of his fiery exhortations about sin and mercy, ledgers detailing the number fed and clothed and the smaller number claiming conversion, petitions for money, broadsides against the vice-tolerant City Hall, and occasional statements issued by Wallace or other members of the mission's steering committee on their plans, problems, and doctrinal concerns. The lists of the mission's lay volunteers and financial supporters always included Lydia Jackson Schweitzer.
The mission operated out of a storefront near the old shipyards, providing shelter, food, medicine, and moral instruction to the most miserable of the human wreckage churned out by the Barbary Coast. Its comforts attracted seamen too aged to sail, alcoholics, syphilitics, old and diseased whores, cripples, orphans, the dissolute and disaffected and marginalized of every kind.
Could it also have drawn the wolfman?
Quite possibly, Cree decided. The mission could easily have been the means by which the wolfman had come to the attention of Hans and Lydia. Maybe this wasn't such a wild-goose chase after all.
The occasional photos were compelling: sepia-tinted, fading faces from a different century, sober-faced men with beards and bowler hats, pale women with hair drawn back hard and lace at their throats. One showed a dozen men and women posing on the porch of a wooden building that she assumed was the mission. The women wore broad skirts and aprons and bonnets, the men black suits with high collars. Cree picked out Lydia immediately: a dark-haired woman of medium height, with eyes rounded, brows slightly elevated, lips just parted. The open, earnest, slightly astonished expression of a person always somewhat undone by life.
Cree felt herself pushing against the cloaking barrier of the years. The past survived only in snippets and snapshots, leaving huge gaps, tantalizing and frustrating. Seeing the photos of Lydia made it more urgent because it made her more real. Cree opened folders and envelopes and spread out ledgers, looking for their names, their faces, something to do with their affairs, fust one little lead, one little clue, she thought. One thread to the wolfman or the present day.
She was halfway through the 1889 section when she opened a folded sheaf of papers and got a shock. She straightened up, unbelieving.
"Ray," she croaked. "Ray. We got him. We got him!"
She spread the pages flat on the table, five sheets of parchment, typeset and easily legible, probably printed on the same church press that had churned out their tracts and handbills. Ray came to stand behind her so they could read them together.
Report on deliberations by the Mission Council regarding the "Wolf Man" displayed at T
he Red Man resort. Authored for the Council by Rev. Geoffrey D.Wallace July 19,1889
Of late our congregation has endured much troubling discussion regarding the plight of the claimed "wolf man" featured as entertainment at a certain infamous saloon. This has led our community to difficult considerations about the very nature of man and animal, and whether the soul might reside in the beast, and how we ought to conceive the Mission's undertakings in light of such concerns. In service to Christ's work and in the interest of preserving the unity of our congregation, the Council offers this report to record our observations and deliberations, and to render our decisions in the matter.
As our brothers and sisters will recall, it was first brought to our attention by Sister Lydia that The Red Man claims to have in captivity a "wolf man," who is to be seen at their establishment on Rowland Street. The Red Man has previously come to our attention as a pit of unspeakable depravity which presented for entertainment despicable acts occurring between women and animals. Lydia reported that a creature resembling both man and wolf (or dog) is encaged and is nightly put on display, and that for a fee patrons may watch him in combat with dogs or with men who fight in exchange for a share of the wagers made upon the outcome of the contest. Lydia attested that he is forced to live naked and in his own filth, is fed only upon leavings and rotten meat, and suffers from innumerable festering wounds received during his combat with man and dog.
Acting on our esteemed sister's heartfelt plea, a Mission Council committee consisting of myself, Mr. Osbourne, Mr. O'Shaugnessy, Mr. Grossbach, and Rev. Smith was formed and dispatched to The Red Man to observe the "wolf man." We were accompanied also by Mr. Franklin Wilson, a Pinkerton guard we thought it advisable to hire because The Red Man is widely known for the drunken and violent nature of its patrons and employees, which are of the lowest and most depraved class.
We did observe the supposed "wolf man" and concur that he cannot be described as either a human being or a beast, but in appearance seems to be some admixture. We confirmed that he exists in a most pitiful and disagreeable condition, and that he is nightly forced to enjoin physical combat with dogs and men. When fighting dogs he uses his limbs and his wolf-like teeth; when fighting men (we are informed; we did not see him fight a man as there were no volunteers that evening), he is made to wear a leather harness or muzzle over his mouth so that he cannot inflict fatal harm. This combat appears to cause him much fear and distress, and during our observation of him he seemed to join in it most unwillingly; however, once aroused, he acts with extreme savagery and was able to kill all three dogs which were set upon him.
We remained at The Red Man long enough to verify to our satisfaction that such a creature did exist, and that his nature and appearance are not products of an actor's hoax or illusion intended to deceive the gullible out of their pennies. We inquired of Mr. Silas Singer, proprietor of the resort, as to where he procured the "wolf man," but he could not or would not tell us and responded in a surly and bellicose manner when informed we were acting on behalf of the Mission. When we threatened to call for a Police inquiry, Mr. Singer showed great amusement and quite gaily urged us to do so, naming several prominent police officials whom he claimed were among his most loyal patrons. An argument ensued with Mr. Singer and half a dozen ruffians in his employ over the disposition and treatment of the "wolf man," at which point Mr. Wilson advised us that he could no longer assure our safety and insisted that we depart immediately. We thought it prudent to abide by his recommendation.
We of this Council are keenly aware that it is the objective of Good Shepherd Mission to extend care and kindness to even the most depraved and sinful of men. It is to this very end that we have established our Mission in the most abject district in our city, thus to bring the Light of Christ Our Lord to those most direly in need of His Mercy. During the last fortnight, however, our congregation has been riven by dissent about said "wolf man," not out of argument concerning his unfortunate condition and many physical discomforts, but out of disagreement as to whether he is human, possessing a soul to be redeemed; or animal, and thus naturally subject to the whims, cruelties, and rightful usages the world imposes upon beasts; or a perversion, possibly of Satanic origin, and thus to be despised as unworthy of the Lord's ministrations.
This Council has therefore taken upon itself the task of determining a final position regarding the "wolf man" and to decide what, if any, actions on his behalf are justified. To this end we have invited the opinions of our congregation and have engaged in impassioned discussion, Scriptural consultation, and thoughtful deliberation, summarized below. In the interest of preserving our unity in the face of our greater common objectives, we have determined not to specify the names of those who argued one point or another, but merely to present their views. It is our belief that all who spoke did so with highest moral purpose and faith in God, and, in recognition of the fallibility of any human opinion, with deepest humility As regards the "wolf man," the varied opinions of our congregation can be represented as follows:
1. Several of our brothers and sisters have persuasively argued that if he possess any human attribute whatsoever, one drop of human blood or one atom of human soul, he is entitled to receive our compassion and to be considered worthy of redemption.
2. Two of us who attended The Red Man, however, having witnessed the "wolf man" in his unspeakable savagery, were inclined to believe he is a form of animal like the apes or monkeys, perhaps an African Baboon partially shaved and in some other wise doctored to enhance its similarity to a human being.
3. Two of our committee, who also witnessed the "wolf man" firsthand, argued that such a creature could not be a Godly creation, but rather an unholy and wicked wretch, perhaps a werewolf or a form of witch or demon, that has been brought into existence through malefic powers. If this be the case, they believe, the creature has only found its just worldly fate in the hands of a brutish man like Silas Singer and must face its judgment by the Almighty without our intercession.
4. Several of our number believe him to be the offspring of the sinful intercourse of woman and dog, a spectacle for which The Red Man is regrettably well known. Those voicing this view were in turn divided in their opinion; one side suggesting that he is thus a creature of such depraved origin as to be unworthy of the ministrations of Christ, the other contending that, as his evil origins are not of his own choice or doing, he himself cannot be called evil and is therefore deserving of compassion.
5. Others offered the question, if the mere existence of a creature, half-man and half-beast, might suggest the veracity of the views lately espoused by Mr. Charles Darwin and his apologists, that Mankind has emerged from a progression of beastly states. In this view, the "wolf man" is a member of some less advanced tribe or people extant somewhere on our planet, or a freakish throwback or link to a more primitive stage of mankind's development. It is the unanimous opinion of this Council that the latter conjecture is at odds with Scripture and has no bearing upon our thoughts or actions.
We are aware that all who have offered their opinions on the matter of the "wolf man" have done so in the best interests of our common goals, and it is in the interests of these same goals that we render our decision.
Our Mission was founded to serve the many, with the greatest good in mind: to wit, to bring all Mankind to the Light of Christ. Our divergence over the question of the "wolf man's" humanity threatens to divide us and thus weaken us in our service to the many. If our opinions about him are in conflict, we must recall ourselves to those purposes for which we are certainly united. If in overlooking his plight we err by failing to win or provide comfort to one soul, we must remind ourselves that there are untold thousands of souls requiring our ministrations here, that our Mission must turn its purpose to administering the greatest good to the greatest number. This is especially true in the current instance, when we cannot claim a firm conviction that the "wolf man" is in fact a man, has a soul worthy of being saved, or indeed possesses any soul.
It is therefore the determination of the Council that Good Shepherd Mission will take no action regarding the "wolf man"; that we will in humility relinquish any further preoccupation with him and surrender him to God's mercies or punishments; and that this Society will return with one mind to its original duties among those we know for certain to be human, and in need, and capable of the higher moral sentiments that make them accessible to the persuasions of Christian kindness.
VI
THE GREAT RAID
55
SATURDAY, JULY 20, 1889
I AM GREATLY DISTRESSED, but I am not angry at them. To his credit, Rev. Wallace submitted the question to our whole congregation, and there was a great deal of discussion. It has been an uneasy two weeks for me, in that I had hoped for an immediate decision, and I fear that the wolf-man will not survive his captivity. Even so, I must credit Rev. Wallace for wisdom and fairness in seeking broader discussion and consensus.
Nor can I be angry at our fellow church members, for in their thoughts they were only expressing their natures, just as the wolf-man expresses or embodies his, and they are so entitled. Their comments seem to me a fair expression of the diverse sentiments I see daily, all around, in other arenas of life.
Being one of the Council, it was Deacon Skinner who broke the news to me at the mission last night. I have rarely seen him angry, and it is not a pleasant thing to witness. His lips turn white in his narrow face and his eyes become chips of flint rimed with frost. He would not say a word against Rev. Wallace or others who opposed our viewpoint, but his unhappiness with them was clear.
He left the mission and returned a short while later with Dr. Mahoney, and the three of us parleyed in the back room. We resolved to act independently, not as representatives of the church but as citizens only. Deacon Skinner proposed that we offer to buy the wolf-man from Silas Singer, but Dr. Mahoney said he had already returned to The Red Man with that intent, in the interim. He offered two hundred dollars, at which Silas Singer laughed outright, saying he had paid that much to buy him in the first place and was earning more than that from him every night. Dr. Mahoney also said he saw the wolf-man briefly as they threw slops into his cage (his dinner), and that he appears very ill; the doctor believes he is close to dying from injuries, infections, malnourishment, and, no doubt, heart-sickness.